#I’ve been here since 2015 did I miss something????

[philsmeatylegss]

Dan posting on his story sbout missbenny, which seems normal, but I just remember the intense drama in like 2019 where people were somehow convinced???? That he was either broken up with, or cheating on phil with missbenny. Like that was a thing??? And to this day I dont know why

I’m sorry???? When did that fucking happen???

[justagalwhowrites]

Stitches: Part of For You - A Collection of Requests Benefitting Palestine

Joel comes into the clinic after getting hurt on the job. A non-canon one shot set in the Lavender universe.

^Gif not representative of reader's appearance, just here for the vibes.

Event Terms: Commissioners could choose to donate between $15 and $50 via Ko-Fi for one fic of 1-2k words to be written by April 1, 2024. Payment due after completion of the fic. Donation with a match by the author to be paid to PCRF on April 2, 2024 in honor of Pedro Pascal's birthday ❤️ Commissioners had the option to choose to keep a fic private and all fics may not be shared here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader from Lavender, QZ era

Warnings: Brief description of injury. Angst. Smut (P in V sex). No use of Y/N, Minors DNI 18+ only.

Length: 4k

A/N: Sooooo this one got a little away from me (shocking, I know.) I can't promise all of this collection will be this long but apparently I really missed Joel and Doc. Written for @suzmagine after she requested QZ era Joel and Doc with angst and smut :)

For You Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Sunday, September 20, 2015 

“I’ve got one more for you,” Marta hovered outside the patient room, a file folder in her hands. 

You groaned. 

“Another one?” You asked. “Shouldn’t we be done for the day by now? Shouldn’t we have been done for the day an hour ago?” 

“I’m not any happier about this than you are,” she replied. “I’m the one who’s been pulling double duty all day because Andrew’s out…” 

“And I’m the one who’s had twice the patient load because the entire QZ has the flu,” you sighed before you pinched the bridge of your nose. This wasn’t helping either of you. “Alright, just… Please tell me this is the last one.” 

“Last one,” she said. “Doors are locked.” 

“Speakeasy after this?” You asked, opening the folder. 

“I would but Brian and I are going to a friend’s place tonight,” she smiled, almost sheepishly. “Sorry.” 

“It’s alright,” you sighed. “I just need to get a life….” You glanced down at the intake notes. Just stitches and antibiotics, on order from FEDRA. “This looks basic, why don’t you head on out. I can finish up here.” 

“Really?” She asked. You just nodded and she squealed a little. “Thank you so much!” 

You tried to not be jealous of the fact that she had a life to go home to. In all reality, you shouldn’t be upset about staying late at work. It’s not like you had anything else going on. Once Tommy left the QZ and Andrew and Jess started spending more time just the two of them while she was down for the count because of her pregnancy, you pretty much spent your time not at work at home, doing a lot of nothing. 

“I need a hobby,” you muttered to yourself before making your way down to the exam room where your last patient was waiting for you. 

You knocked once on the door and gave the patient a moment to answer before you opened it, reviewing the intake notes as you did.  

“Hi there,” you said, looking up from the file. “I’m….” 

Your voice trailed off. Joel was sitting there, perched on the end of the exam table, his eyes ranging over you. 

“Don’t think you need to introduce yourself, Kid,” he said, giving you a wry half smile. 

You looked back at the file. In the name field was just J.M. - FEDRA. You frowned and looked back at him. 

“FEDRA sent you in?” You set the file down on the counter before going to wash your hands. “Why, did you pick a fight with a guard?” 

“No,” he quirked his jaw. “Just some equipment on sewer duty.” 

“Lucky you,” you said, pulling your chair up beside the table. You sat down, closer to him than you’d been since you’d been almost blown up before Tommy left the QZ. “Well, I’m sure you’d rather see anybody else but I’m afraid there’s something going around and I’m the only doctor who’s here right now. Since you’re here on FEDRA orders, I can’t really let you leave and come back another time…” 

“S’fine,” he cut you off. “It’s not… I don’t mind. That it’s you, I mean.” 

“Oh,” you said, a little taken aback. You tried to hide it as you pulled on your gloves. “Well that’s… good. Why don’t take off your shirt, looks like the injury is on your stomach?” 

“Yeah,” he said, unbuttoning his top. “They put a bandage on me there but said I’d need stitches and shit to keep it from gettin’ infected.” 

“Yeah, I feel like dying from an infection that doesn’t turn people into monsters in this day and age is a bit of a raw deal.” 

Joel snorted and shrugged out of the shirt. You saw a bandage, stained with blood, near his belly button. You winced a little, even though you’d seen so much of Joel’s blood at this point you thought you should be used to it. But it never got any easier, knowing he was putting himself at risk, knowing he was in pain. 

Blood was a good distraction, though, when you thought about it. Joel without his shirt had always been a weak spot for you. Blood was one way to keep you from focusing on things you shouldn’t. Like the fact that his chest was broad and firm and you knew just what it would be to rest your head against him there and listen to the steady thrum of his heart as you fell asleep. 

“I’m going to remove the bandage, OK?” You said, looking up at him through your eyelashes. You watched the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed. He just gave you a single nod and you pulled down the bundle of gauze and tape to expose a jagged cut that dipped into the muscle of his abdomen. You hissed a little in sympathetic pain. “What’d you do, Joel?” 

“Had to jump to dodge an out of control truck,” he said. “Ended up landin’ on something sharp. Hurt like a bitch but… had worse.” 

“Had worse is a damn low bar for you,” you said, gingerly examining the wound. “Good news is, this is even cleaner than I expected. Actually, you’re cleaner than I expected, you don’t smell like you were on sewer duty.” 

“Yeah, well, figured patchin’ me up wouldn’t do much if I was covered in shit,” he said, voice beaten down by the misery that was QZ life. It was a tone you knew well. “Showered before I came.” 

You nodded slowly. 

“I’ll numb you up and get this all closed,” you said, sitting back from him. “Go ahead and lie back for me while I get set up.” 

You gathered what you needed and came back to find Joel flat on the table, his hands folded over the base of his chest. The cracked face of the watch glinted in the florescent light and you tried not to think about how his arms looked bare. You hadn’t seen his arms bare in so long. 

You cleared your throat and pulled the chair back up alongside him and changed gloves. 

“Small poke,” you said as you injected the local anesthetic. He grunted but stayed still. You gave it a few minutes to kick in before you gently prodded the wound. “Feel that?” 

“No,” he said. 

You nodded and set to work, flushing out the wound and aligning his damaged skin to stitch it closed. 

“So,” you said after the silence was heavy in the room. “How’ve you been since Tommy left?” 

His body tensed a little. 

“Fine,” he said gruffly. “Just a bit quiet around the apartment.” 

You nodded slowly, focusing on your stitching. 

“I hope you’re not just sitting in there all alone,” you said, half teasing half serious. “Even you need social contact now and then.” 

“M’fine.” 

There was something in his tone that made you feel like he was not, in fact, fine. As much as you tried to forget, you carried so much of the intimacies of Joel Miller within you. How he looked when his face was relaxed in sleep, how he felt when he held you like you were the only thing he had left in the world, how he sounded when he was in pain. He sounded that way now. 

“Are you?” You asked, lifting your eyes from his stomach to look up his body to his face. His head was raised just enough to look back at you. 

“Not your damn business what I am or what I’m not,” he snapped, lowering his head back to the exam table. “Leave it.”

“I’m just…” you paused as you finished the last stitch. “I worry about you sometimes is all. I know you don’t have a lot of people, Joel, and…” 

“I’m not your fuckin’ problem,” he bit out, sitting up so fast that you shocked back from him. “I don’t need you pokin’ around my life and fuckin’ it up anymore than you already have so just leave it, alright!” 

“Alright,” you said quietly, tears pinching at the back of your throat. 

“You done sewin’ me shut?” He snapped. You nodded, still trying to resist the urge to cry. “Good.” 

He snatched his shirt up and stalked out of the room, not even stopping to put it on. 

You took a deep, shaky breath, staring at the place where Joel had just been. You tried not to think about how, for just a few minutes, there had been a quiet intimacy there like there had been with him before. How he felt comfortable and safe beside you, where you could run your fingers over his skin and see where his hair was starting to gray. 

You gave yourself a few minutes to calm down before you started cleaning up, trying to focus on getting home so you could curl up in a ball in your bed where you were warm and safe, even if you were alone. You were starting to clear the tray of tools when you realized the syringe of penicillin was still there, shiny and full. 

You’d never given him the antibiotics. 

“Shit,” you muttered, voice wet. 

You set it aside and finished cleaning up before grabbing a bottle of pain killers and an oral course of antibiotics and setting out to Joel’s place. 

He answered quickly, all but ripping the door open and looking surprised to find you there when he did. 

“What do you want,” he snapped. 

“You still need antibiotics,” you said quietly, fighting to not flinch back from him. You held up the small bag with the syringe, bandages and pills inside. “You left before I could give them to you.” 

He quirked his jaw but stepped aside, opening the door wide enough for you to come in. You set the bag down on the table and started taking off your coat. 

“Didn’t say you could fuckin’ stay,” Joel said, voice still sharp. 

“I figured you’d want me having full range of motion with my arms when I’m sticking you with a needle,” you said harshly before closing your eyes for a moment, forcing yourself to calm down. “I need to get at the wound again so… shirt off.” 

He ground his teeth but obeyed, pulling the shirt off. You sat down at the table and got the syringe ready and he stood beside you there and you had the strangest urge to kiss his stomach. You pressed your lips together instead. 

“If you didn’t run off this would probably hurt less,” you said. “But the anesthetic might be wearing off already so… small pinch.” 

You pressed the syringe into his skin and pushed down on the plunger. He flinched once and that was it. 

“Just going to bandage you up,” you said, not waiting for a response. 

“Why’d you come here,” Joel asked as you taped the bandage over his damaged skin. You looked up at him, frowning. His eyes were on yours, deep and warm and chocolate brown. 

“You needed…” 

“Don’t give me that,” he cut you off. “You could have fuckin’ left it, told you enough times that I don’t want shit to do with you now so why are you really here? Not like FEDRA was gonna come and check and make sure I was on their ordered drugs so what is it?” 

“Do you really think I’d just let something happen to you?” You asked quietly. “You might not care if I live or die anymore but I care about you. I’m always going to care about you.” 

You didn’t wait for.a response. You looked back to his stomach and finished taping the bandage in place before taking the pills out and setting them on table before getting up and pulling your jacket back on.

“Instructions are on the bottles,” you said. “Take all the antibiotics, every last one, I don’t care if you’re feeling well and your cut is magically healed, still take them. Change out the bandages every 24 hours for the first few days, come by the clinic if there’s a lot of blood or discomfort. Pain medication as needed. I’m sure you’ll just sell whatever’s left…” 

You grabbed the now empty bag off the table and turned to go to the door but Joel’s hand closed around your wrist, pulling you back around. You frowned, looking at where he was touching you before looking back to him. 

“Joel…” 

“You really think I don’t care about you?” He asked, voice heated. “You really think I don’t give a shit? Hm?” 

You shrank back from him as much as you could while he held you in place, his grip on you tight. 

“Joel…” you said again but he cut you off. 

“You think I don’t care if you live or die?” It took you a moment to realize that he didn’t sound angry. He sounded… hurt? Offended? Both? “Jesus…” 

“You’re hurting me, Joel.” 

He scowled but dropped your wrist. 

“After everything I’ve done,” he snapped. “After everything we’ve been through, you think I don’t fuckin’ care?” 

“Why would I think you care?” You tried to sound mad but you just sounded hurt, your voice quivering. “All you’ve done for years now is tell me how I hurt you, how you wish you’d never met me, how you don’t want to see me again! Even when you’ve done something that you say is for me or because of me you act like your obligated to me in some way but you’re not and I wish you’d just leave me alone! I can’t keep doing this with you, I’m so tired of being your burden, Joel!” 

You tried to turn to go but his hands were on you again but on your shoulders this time, his fingers digging into your flesh there. His eyes searched yours for half a moment before he pulled you sharply to him, his hands flying from your shoulders to your face to tilt your head to just the right angle, gripping you tight and desperate, before his lips crashed into your own. 

It took you a second to fully understand what was happening but your body responded before your mind. It might have been years since you last kissed Joel but your lips knew his. They conformed to his like the familiar ground they were, giving to the hot press of him as he licked into your mouth. 

You moaned and wrapped your arms around his waist, forgetting, for a moment, that he was injured. He hissed in pain and you tried to pull back but his grip on you grew tighter, fingertips pressing into your skull. Your body curved against his and you were suddenly acutely aware that he was shirtless, that you could feel his skin on yours if you could just take your own shirt off, too. 

His hold on you eventually loosened and he pulled back from you, the brown of his iris almost entirely swallowed by his pupil now as he panted for breath. His thumbs traced the arch of your cheekbones. 

“I care,” he said, voice hungry and low. “I care more about you than about any other person left on this godforsaken planet…” 

“Joel…” you were breathless, heat and tension pooling at your core. 

“And I’m tired of tryin’ to stay away from you.” 

He pulled you back against him, gently that time. His lips were soft on yours, his tongue tracing the seam of you until you opened for him. You could properly taste him now, the mint of his toothpaste and the bitter tang of liquor and the familiar flavor of his skin. You drank it up, needing it like water. His hands left your face, sliding down your body to your waist. He pulled at your shirt, separating from you just enough to pull it up and over your head, taking a moment to look down at your body, an expression of almost reverence on his face as he panted for breath. 

Joel tugged you toward him again, his mouth quickly finding yours, as he unhooked your bra. He slid that off your body, too, and cradled you to him. 

You moaned into his mouth, you couldn’t help it, as your arms went around his neck. His skin was everywhere, so soft and so warm and just like you remembered. He felt so good against you, like home, and the ache of missing him flared to life inside your chest, sharp and cruel. 

Part of you knew you should put a stop to this now, before it went any further. He was only going to push you away again, just like he had after Boston. It was only going to hollow you out and leave you feeling more desperately alone than ever. 

But you couldn’t resist him. You’d missed him too much over the years, he was too much a part of you to ever dream of pushing him away. You needed this. You needed him. 

You let him guide you toward the couch, his fingers prying at the button of your jeans before pushing those and your underwear down your body, too. You stepped out of them and your shoes together before Joel gently lowered you, completely bared to him, to the rough, aging fabric of the couch. You watched as he stood over you, your eyes wide, as he opened his own pants, freeing his cock and swiping his thumb over his leaking tip before stroking himself in long, slow strokes. 

“Tell me you want this,” his voice trembled. “We can stop right now…” 

“I need you,” you cut him off with a needy whisper. “Please.” 

He didn’t need any more prompting. He shoved his pants and underwear down before he nudged your legs apart and settled between them. He gripped the root of his thick, heavy cock and trailed his tip over your leaking slit, moaning as he did. 

“Missed this wet little pussy,” he notched his head at your entrance before thrusting halfway inside you with a short, sharp stroke. You gasped at the stretch of him, your back arching and fingers scrambling at the tattered upholstery. “Fuck, still so fuckin’ tight. Gotta be fuckin’ dripping for me or I’d never get inside you…” 

He pulled back just a little, his thumb finding your clit and pressing into you there, working you in a slow circle. He thrust back into you, a little further this time. 

“You get this soft and hot and wet for anyone else?” He asked, a possessive edge to his voice as his eyes ranged over your naked body. “Or you save that just for me?” 

“Just for you,” you didn’t care that you sounded desperate and pathetic. You just needed him inside of you, filling you totally. “It’s all for you, I’ve always been all for you.” 

“You all mine, Baby?” He asked, pulling back and thrusting deeper. “This little pussy all mine?” 

“Yes,” you rocked your hips up against him but he pressed down on you, holding you in place and making you whimper. “Fuck, please…” 

“How about the rest of you?” He asked, his hand leaving your clit as he lowered himself onto you. His skin was on yours, the plush swell of his stomach against you, his chest tight to your own. His hand came up to brush your hair back and cradle the crown of your head, his thumb tracing over you there. His eyes searched yours and, for the first time in years, you saw the Joel you’d fallen in love with so long ago. The quiet strength of him, the gentle care, the fierce love, the raw and aching whole of him there with nothing holding him back. “Want all of you, want that so much more than your perfect fuckin’ pussy…” 

“Joel…” 

“Say you’re mine,” he thrust deeper and you keened at the feel of him inside you, so close to having all of him within you where you’d known he belonged from the first time you’d taken him into yourself. “Tell me I’m not gonna lose you.” 

“You’re not going to lose me,” you breathed. “I promise, you can’t lose me.” 

He pulled back a little and you whimpered at the loss. 

“Say you’ll let me protect you,” he thrust in, almost to the root this time, and held himself there. Your channel tightened around him. 

“Joel,” you were having a hard time remembering how to say anything but his name, that single word the most vital one you’d ever known. “Please…” 

“Tell me,” he ground himself against you, his skin on your clit, his cock pressing into your most sensitive places. “Let me take care of you, protect you. Say it.” 

“You can protect me,” your hands found their way to his shoulders, nails digging into his skin there. “You can take care of me, I promise…” 

“Let me love you,” he pulled back again but it was his words and not how he was moving inside you that made you gasp. “Say it. Tell me I can love you, that it’s safe to love you.” 

You reached up and gently traced his hairline before threading your fingers through his curls, your eyes on his. 

“I haven’t been the one stopping you from loving me,” you whispered. 

“I never stopped,” he rocked himself part way into you again before pulling back. “Always loved you, always. But I need it to be safe, I can’t love you without it destroyin’ me if it’s not. Please, baby. Tell me. Tell me I can love you.” 

“You can love me, Joel,” you said softly. “It’s safe. I’m safe.” 

He kissed you, his mouth claiming yours and he pressed all the way inside you then, making your back arch and legs go tight around his hips. You moaned against his lips as he held himself deep within you for a moment before pulling back again. 

It might have been years but your body knew Joel’s. You knew just how to take him and he knew just how to make you come, his hips grinding down into you when he was fully seated inside of your tight channel, making his cock tease your most tender places while his hips worked your clit. He fucked you deep and hard and greedy, like he couldn’t get enough of you, like he wanted to lay claim to all of you. 

The tight band of pleasure inside of you wound tighter and tighter until it snapped when he was pressed deep, your walls fluttering over him. He moaned against your lips and fucked you through it, never slowing, never letting up, making it so your orgasm never really subsided. It just rolled into building the next one until he pulled his desperate and needy mouth from yours. 

“Not gonna last, Baby,” he ground himself deeper, as if to make his point. “Where -” 

“Inside me,” you panted. “I need to feel you, please don’t leave, please, inside me, please…” 

He kissed you again, fucking you a little harder and faster, driving the band of pleasure tighter and higher until you felt him press deep and pulse inside you, triggering your next orgasm. 

You came with him, your pussy rippling over him as he throbbed, emptying himself into you. 

His body went slack for a moment before he propped himself up on his elbows, his eyes returning to their normal color. They looked over your face for a moment before locking onto your own and you had a moment of fear that the walls would go up again. That the cold, disconnected Joel who had taken over since he’d come to the QZ would be back. But his eyes stayed soft and open and warm, his large palm still cradling the top of your head. 

“Tell me you meant all that,” you whispered even though you were afraid of what the answer was. 

“Oh, Baby.” He leaned forward and pressed his lips to your forehead before trailing his nose over your own. “I meant every word. I promise.” 

You smiled, looking into Joel’s eyes and realizing that, even though you were still stuck inside the QZ, you were right where you belonged. 

[tgmsunmontue]

Online & Anonymous 14/16

Hangster. Explicit. Years before they meet in person Bradley and Jake strike up a friends-with-benefits relationship online. And then something more like an actual relationship.

>>Bradley chatting (bold and italics)

>>Jake chatting (italics)

2005/2006 2007 2008 2009 2010 2011 2012 2013 2014 2015 2016 2017 2018

2019 – Bradley

                Reconnecting with Jas after nearly a year and a half of no contact feels like a fragile glass butterfly in his hands, one he’s scared to hold too firmly in his hands, terrified it will shatter if he moves wrong. He continues sending pictures of his morning cup of coffee, although it’s just with a heart emoji now; no daily apology. Simply an acknowledgement that he thinks of him pretty much as soon as he wakes up. He doesn’t always get one back immediately, but their time zones are very different right now. Jas has admitted that sometimes he takes the photo and saves it to send, so he can pretend they’re sharing, existing at the same time. Bradley admits to wanting to be able to make him coffee every morning. Knows exactly how he takes it.

                His leave has been approved for December, and he’s put in a cushion of an additional week either side to allow for missed flights and natural disasters and he’ll fucking go AWOL if he has to. He hasn’t shared his little contingency plan with Jas, but he will if worst comes to worst. He doesn’t let himself think about it too much, or look forward to it. Doesn’t want to build it all up for it to crumble down around him again. And he’s working very hard to ensure he doesn’t sabotage himself. Not this time. His therapist has given him a lot to think about and sometimes he really hates how right they are.

                Right now though he’s in Ramstein working with the Airforce, some cooperative training gig and he’s trying to use it as a cultural thing, but he feels like he could just be on a base somewhere, anywhere, back home. For some reason it makes him feel homesick for what he thinks must be the first time in his life. Last Christmas he’d spent it with Ice and his family for the first time since he was a teenager. Their relationship healed enough now for him to realize and regret how many years he’s lost. He guesses the maturity and therapy have probably helped, although he sometimes feels like a little kid again, seeking out attention and approval. One of Ice’s kids has kids themselves, and that is wild to him. Ice can’t talk very well, but considering how expressive his face can be when he chooses it to be he’d had entire silent conversation with Bradley while he’d been staying.

…            …            …

>>I’m in Germany.

>>Huh. I’m in Japan.

>>Oh. I like Japan.

>>We’ll have to go together sometime.

>>Wait.

>>What are you doing in Germany?

>>What do you mean?

>>I’m deployed here?

>>Uh. I know you’re Navy. I mean. Yeah.

>>You let it slip years ago.

>>Oh. Shit. Did I?

>>I didn’t realize.

>>Yeah.

>>So. Only seems fair to tell you I’m Navy too.

>>Shit. Really? God. What are the chances?

>>Well, I crunched the numbers few years ago, and they’re not that farfetched.

>>Of course you did.

>>And I’m in Germany helping out with a cooperative training exercise. Just a short four month stint and then back home in June.

>>You sure you don’t want more details?

>>Positive. I like the idea of us having some topics of conversation we haven’t covered.

                He desperately just wants to blurt it out, has in fact tapped out his name and exactly what he does, only to delete it all. He’ll respect Jas’s wishes, even if he doesn’t like them. Even now, knowing they’re both in the Navy and Bradley could, if he wasn’t respecting Jas’s personal boundaries, call Ice and ask him to pull every active-duty man with the initials JAS and born in 1986. Surely there aren’t that many.

>>Talking has never been something we’ve struggled with.

>>Have you seen the new How to Train your Dragon movie?

>>Weirdly, I have. Why?

>>Well, I’ve only been able to watch it in German. I think I understand what is happening, but can you run me through what exactly they were looking for? I didn’t get why it was so important.

                He wants to ask why Jas has seen a movie for kids, but he doesn’t, instead waits for Jas to fill in all the bits of plot Bradley missed due to watching the film in the nearby town with a German dub rather than watching it on base.

…            …            …

                “Bradshaw. The CO would like to see you.”

                He nods his head to acknowledge the words and heads off immediately. He doesn’t know why he’s being summoned but he’s not going to start disobeying orders or summons. He knocks on the door and waits to be called in.

                “Lieutenant. You’ve been called in for a special detachment. You leave for North Island at seventeen-hundred.”

                “Today sir?”

                “Yes. A matter of urgency it seems. A shame, you’re a damned good instructor and flier. I’ll be sure to have you back.”

                “Thank you sir.”

                He’s handed the papers, a mere formality now, he’ll have electronic ones sitting in his HR account. He’s got a few hours to pack, say some goodbyes. North Island. Of all places. Okay. He’s heading back stateside.

…            …            …

                He manages to get some sleep on the flight, then rest and report in. North Island is home and it also isn’t. He always feels mixed up emotionally when he’s here, too close to his parents and all his memories with Maverick growing up. He goes and collects the Bronco from storage, unsurprised to find a note telling him it’s been serviced and run, and he swings by to visit Ice, who doesn’t seem surprised to see him at all. He looks tired though, wearing a thick jacket and scarf despite the warm spring day. Bradley knows better to mention anything, Sarah having warned him. He stays for lunch, plays with the grandkids and then, because Ice is an angel amongst men, heads to the Hard Deck where he’s just been told his best friend probably is. The fact that she’s also been called to whatever this mission is fills him with pride, she’s a damned fine aviator, definitely better than him in some respects; and definitely able to make the most of having a back seater.

                Of course she’s pissed off with him for not telling him that he was going to be here, and he can’t exactly tell her he only knows because the COMPACFLT dropped him a message. He does mutter about being in a different country less than twenty-four hours ago but she just pulls a face at him and he knows she doesn’t accept it as a reason or an excuse. It hurts a little to see Seresin again. To think about the potential they had. He looks good though. Happy and confident, the little smirk always there just on the corner of his lips. He always wants to kiss it off, but it's not his place. Has never been his place. He plays it off, tries to anyway, and his mouth still takes off without him, brain distracted by looking and he really has to practice better self-control.

                “Hangman. You look… good.”

                There’s a flash of annoyance and Bradley winces. He’s glad he went with something as mundane as good, except him saying that has always been a lead into hooking up. He’d told himself he wasn’t going to do this. Not with anyone, but especially not with Seresin. They aren’t anything to each other, never were, never will be. He’ll apologize as soon as he can for the slip up.

                “I am good Rooster. I’m very good. In fact, I am too good to be true.”

                He rolls his eyes, but he deserves the sharp look, the slight meaness, although he also can’t ignore it, because Seresin is still an arrogant shit, for all his beautiful flying. Natasha is muttering under her breath, talking about not caring about dick sizes, and he has to stop himself from laughing as she blatantly and obviously changes the subject, the others grabbing the lifeline like drowning men. He focuses back in on the conversation just in time to hear Seresin again.

                “And which one of y’all has what it takes to follow me?”

                He snorts.

                “Hangman, the only place you’ll lead anyone is an early grave.”

                Fuck. He hadn’t meant that. Not like that. God. Another thing to apologize for. He’s opening a fucking tab.

                “Well, anyone who follows you is just gonna run out of fuel. But that’s just you, ain’t it, Rooster? You’re snug on that perch, waiting for just the right moment… That never comes.”

                He knows it’s a jibe about his fucking inability to commit to his relationship, and he’d like to prove him wrong by telling him that he’s very firmly back with his guy, but it feels empty when he flirted with him not even five minutes ago. What the hell is it with Seresin that always brings out the worst in him. He’s going to have to apologize but he’s going to hate every fucking second of it.

                “I love this song!”

                Right.

                He’ll apologize as soon as he no longer wants to punch him.

…            …            …

                Fortunately Natasha’s presence, the piano playing and singing force him to unwind and it shifts his mood considerably, exactly what his therapist has told him to do. Not that a piano is frequently available, but he’s working on it. He sees Seresin head out and he follows him quickly, ignores Natasha’s hissed warning to not get into a fight.

                “Hey! Seresin! Wait up!”

                “What do you want Rooster?”

                He sucks in a big breath. He can do this.

                “I just wanted to apologize. For flirting. I shouldn’t have done that. For several reasons, but it was shitty of me and I’ll work on it not happening again.”

                Seresin looks at him, expression tense and he’s worrying a toothpick which Bradley does his best to ignore.

                “Anything else you want to apologize for Bradshaw?”

                Bradley pauses, thinks back to what he said and pulls a face.

                “Fuck. Yeah. You won’t lead anyone into an early grave either. I didn’t mean that. It was a shitty thing to say. I’m sorry.”

                “Anything else?”

                Bradley blinks.

                “Uh. No… not that I can think of? Why?”

                The look Seresin is giving him is calculating, like he’s trying to figure something out; then Seresin is reaching out and tugging on his shirt.

                “Thought you might like to apologize for crimes against fashion. This is one godawful shirt you’re wearing…”

                “I like this shirt.”

                “Of course you do. Hmm.”

                “Are you going to apologize to me?”

                “For what?”

                “For calling me slow?”

                “Nothing wrong with slow Rooster…”

                The look on his face, the way he juts out his hip and licks his lips around the fucking toothpick… Bradley feels the flush hit his cheeks, can tell his neck and chest are also going warm and he steps back. He can’t and won’t engage with this. With him.

                “Was good seeing you Seresin. Have a good night.”

…            …            …

                He gets back inside the Hard Deck and he spies Natasha talking with Bob, knows she’s starting the process of getting to know her new back seater, which is usually to beat them soundly in whatever macho game they think they’re better at, and then to show them that she can and will fly, and fly well. Then she usually forces them into a self-care night of face masks and nails, for which Bradley is usually invited along to if he’s around, although he knows Coyote has been seconded into the roll a couple of times.

                “You look… whole,” Natasha says, and she reaches for his hand, inspects his knuckles and Bradley huffs in annoyance, pulling his hand back when he realizes what she’s doing.

                “I didn’t punch him.”

                “No. You just stalked out of here looking like you wanted to.”

                “I actually went and apologized to him.”

                Both her and Bob blink.

                “Seriously?”

                “What can I say, I’m the bigger man, admitting when I’m wrong and apologizing.”

                “I still feel like I should go outside and check for a body…”

                “It’s fine. I’m going to try and be nice.”

                “Yeah. Okay. Good luck with that.”

                “What she said,” Bob says.

…            …            …

                The thing is he does try, but he’s also completely thrown by the fact that Maverick is there and is apparently the one teaching them. His anger is bubbling fresh, like he never took it off the boil and he’s angry again with Ice for not fucking warning him. Maverick doesn’t look at all surprised to see him and that makes him feel even angrier. He desperately needs to either run, punch some pillows or angrily play out his feelings on a piano until he calms down. None of which he can do while he watches his godfather stand at the front of a makeshift classroom and tell them all that the mission success will come down to the pilot in the box.

…            …            …

                “So, Rooster, mind if I ask you a personal question?”

                Jesus Christ, one apology and the man is going to ask about his whole life history. Now is not the fucking time, not to mention the line is open and everyone can hear them. He scans the skies and screens for any sign of Maverick.

                “Would it matter if I did?”

                “What’s the story with you and Maverick?” Speak of the fucking devil… “It seems like he’s got you rattled.”

                “That’s none of your business. Now where the hell is he?”

                “Been here the whole time.”

                “Holy shit,” Seresin breathes and Bradley pulls a face, because that tone is also far too similar to what he sounds like in bed and he can not be thinking about that right now.

                He get’s shot down for a second time, knows he’s toeing the line of being an idiot, doesn’t need Natasha railing at him, or the four-hundred push-ups he insists on doing which leave his arms feeling like jelly and Hondo looking at him like he pities him. He goes back to his accommodation on base and stares at the key to his family home, wonders if he should do anything about it, ignores Natasha’s messages and falls into a fitful sleep without even changing out of his clothes.

…            …            …

                He wakes later, and his first instinct is to make coffee, except it’s late and he needs to get used to the time difference. So he makes himself a hot cocoa from the supplies, although the fat he has to chip away at the solid mass tells him it likely won’t be worth the effort. Still, it gives him something to do. He snaps a picture and sends it, just adds a jet lag is real over it and sends it. Jas has been unnaturally quiet the last couple of days and Bradley desperately wants to just pick up his phone and call him. Except he doesn’t have his number and he won’t ask for it.

                Calling was never an option in the beginning, not with the lack of service out on carriers, and the fact that exchanging numbers also meant exchanging names. Bradley has never not answered the phone with his whole name, so he’d never offered. He’s got so many regrets on so many fronts he feels like a twenty-sided dice.

>>Everything okay?

>>You’ve been kind of quiet these last couple of days.

>>You ever bump into someone and think that it was maybe me you were talking to?

>>Um. Actually yeah.

>>Once. Years ago.

>>But there just ended up being all these little facts that didn’t line up so I figured it wasn’t you.

>>Was he hot?

>>He was alright. Easy enough on the eyes.

>>Nothing happened. I was his instructor at the time.

>>You and your moral compass.

>>I’m rolling my eyes at you.

>>I’m not a saint.

>>Never accused you of that. Not sleeping with someone because you’re in a position of power. That’s pretty decent of you.

>>Got to try being a decent human right?

>>I guess.

>>Sometimes I fuck up but got to keep on trying.

>>Yeah. I guess you do.

…            …            …

                Internally he’s a mess. The fact that the mission seems impossible, has been called a suicide mission, he’s having to see Maverick everyday, and Seresin keeps looking at him like he’s trying to puzzle something out. Like how big the body bag needs to be maybe. Now he’s being told he isn’t flying fast enough, he’s going to get shot down and he’s going to be responsible for the death of his friends. Like any of them won’t suffer the exact same fate.

                “It’s not the plane, sir, it’s the pilot.”

                “Exactly!”

                “There’s more than one way to fly this mission.”

                “You really don’t get it. On this mission, a man flies like Maverick here, or a man does not come back. No offense intended.”

                “Yet somehow you always manage,” Bob murmurs and normally Bradley would smile at the comeback, but he can’t right now. His frustration and anger are carefully balanced and he doesn’t want either of them to tip over.

                “Look, I don’t mean to criticize. You’re conservative, that’s all.”

                “Lieutenant.”

                “We’re going into combat, son, on a level no living pilot’s ever seen. Not even him. That’s no time to be thinking about the past.”

                “What’s that supposed to mean?”

                “Rooster.”

                “I can’t be the only one that knows that Maverick flew with his old man.”

                “That’s enough.”

                “Or that Maverick was flying when his old man…”

                “Lieutenant, that’s enough!”

                “That’s enough.“

                “You son of a bitch!”

                “Hey, come on!”

                “I’m cool, I’m cool. Hey, hey.”

                “That’s enough.”

…            …            …

>>I have had an awful fucking day.

>>Tell me something to cheer me up?

                He doesn’t get an answer.

…            …            …

                He still doesn’t have an answer the next morning and he sends off his usual morning picture of his coffee, feels his entre body unclench when he gets a picture in response. There still isn’t any messages but it’s not complete radio silence. There is a message from his Captain, telling him to report to the Hard Deck in civvies appropriate for the beach and he lets out a long sigh. Sends a screen shot to Ice with a what the fuck is he thinking now? To which he gets back a line of laughing-crying emojis and your guess is as good as mine.

                Well. He has no idea where the hell Maverick dreamed up dog-fight football, but at least they’re not all getting drunk together. That would have been a recipe for several disasters. It’s not that warm, but once they’re all running around it heats them up enough and it feels good to simply run around and play, forget, even for a little while, that one or more of them might be dead in a couple of weeks.

…            …            …

                As if they needed reminders about just how dangerous their jobs are without the added aspects of the mission in front of them they have the day from hell and Bradley feels responsible. Thinking his verbal sparring with Hangman somehow made it a bad day he somehow jinxed them all. Having Coyote come so close to burning in because of g-Loc, and then Natasha… his best friend. Listening to Maverick yell eject at them over and over is going to be added nightmare fodder he’s sure will enter rotation, something he can look forward to. He sits in the quiet of the room, turning when he hears footsteps.

                Maverick.

                And no-one else around to act as a buffer.

                Well shit.

                He’s tired and already emotionally raw, doesn’t want to talk to him right now.

                “They’ll keep Phoenix and Bob in the hospital overnight for observation. They’re gonna be okay.”

                “That’s good. I’ve never lost a wing man.”

                “You’re lucky. Fly long enough, it’ll happen. There will be others.”

                “Easy for you to say,” Bradley bites out. “No wife. No kids. Nobody to mourn you when you burn in.”

                He feels detached from what he’s saying, but the anger is all still there, and he feels justified in that at least, although he’s also lying. As much as he might be angry, he’d still grieve Maverick if he died. Of course Maverick tries to be calm and rational and instead of calming him down it has the opposite effect, and he’s snapping out words again, and Maverick is snapping back and god, it’s a wonder Ice didn’t bang their heads together earlier.

                “Maverick,” Warlock says, stopping them from screaming more hurtful things in each other’s faces.

                Then he learns that Ice has died and of course bad things come in threes.

                He leaves Maverick with Warlock and heads off into the dark for his base housing.

…            …            …

>>You know how I told you about my uncle?

>>The one with cancer?

>>Yeah?

>>He died. His funeral will be in a couple of days and I’m going to have to somehow not cry in front of everyone.

>>Would you give me your mobile number?

>>Why?

>>Because I’d really like to hear your voice. Talk to you properly.

>>I wouldn’t call until you gave me the go ahead.

>>I just… I don’t want to be alone right now.

>>I feel very alone.

>>I thought the other day was bad, but today has been so much worse.

                He wanders around aimlessly, wonders if maybe he should bite the bullet and either go to the rec room and play the piano there, or see if the piano at his closed-up parent’s house is even playable. He’s half-dressed for bed, mind so far away he doesn’t register the knocking until it’s louder and more insistent and he heads to the door, opening it and half-expecting to find Maverick there.

                “Hangman?”

                “Rooster.”

                “Uh. What are doing here?”

                The look on Seresin’s face tells him he’s not exactly sure either, and the fact that he’s not certain is something he’s even more annoyed about.

                “I just… I know your dad flew with Admiral Kazansky. I... I thought that maybe you might know him more than just as the COMPACFLT and be... I thought you might want company.”

                “I...” Bradley starts, because he really does want the company right now, Natasha is in hospital, Coyote is with her because sometimes things like near-misses force you to reevaluate. Not that she can come, but he wouldn’t call her anyway, doesn’t want to rain on her happiness. Not when there is no guarantee of any future right now, the bird strike and g-Loc incidents both really driving home how dangerous their jobs are.

                “Not anything else, by the way… just company.”

                “No. I... Yeah. Company would be good. Thanks.”

                “Also I figured I should take a leaf out of your book and apologize. I’m sorry. About bringing up your dad. That was a dick move.”

                Bradley blinks.

                “Um. Okay.”

                “Right. Sleeping right? You want me to cuddle you?”

                “Actually yeah, since you offered,” Bradley replies, giving Seresin a disparaging look but then takes in the fact that he’s dressed in sweats and a worn t-shirt, like he maybe come over after he’d already gotten ready for bed.

                “Come on then, finish getting ready. Always waiting for you to catch up Bradshaw…”

                “Yeah yeah, give me a minute.”

                He shuffles around, puts on a t-shirt in deference to the fact that Seresin seems seriously intent on hopping into bed with him, and not for sex. He brushes his teeth and washes his face, unable to bring himself to do any more. His mind is thinking about Sarah and the kids and grandkids. Funerals, oh which he feels like he’s been to too many. He folds himself into the bed, his head and body already feel heavy and weighed down and he cannot believe he’s watching Seresin of all people turn off the lights and then slide into bed beside him, his arm settling over his waist like a drag sail.

                “Go to sleep Bradshaw, I’m not planning on going anywhere.”

…            …            …

                Despite everything he has one of the best nights’ sleep he’s had in a long time, and he can’t put it down to the sheer emotional exhaustion of the last couple of days. He woke up several times during the night, not used to having someone else in the bed, but each time Seresin had been there, arm settled around Bradley like he was holding him together. He’s not there now though, but Bradley can hear someone in the kitchen and it can’t be anyone else but Seresin. He stands and stretches, feels his back and neck click and reaches for his phone, feels a little swoop of happiness when he sees he has a message.

>>I don’t want you to be alone right now either.

                He grins and quickly types out a response as he heads to the kitchen.

                “Hey, morning.”

                “Morning. How are you feeling?”

                “Uh. Better. Thanks,” Bradley offers, because he’s a little unsettled by this softer and more accommodating version of Seresin.

                “Here,” Seresin says, and he slides a mug of coffee across to him. It’s not his usual mug, but that’s okay. The mug isn’t the important part, and he snaps a quick picture.

                “What are you doing?”

                “Um. Just taking a photo of my coffee,” Bradley states, looking up as Seresin makes a slight choking sound. “Thanks by the way, for the coffee and for staying last night. I really needed the company.”

                “Yeah. Uh. Anytime. I’ve got to go. Glad you’re feeling better Bradshaw.”

                “Uh, yeah. Thanks… see you later…” Bradley says, voice trailing off as Hangman flees like he’s on fire.

                Weird.

                He takes a sip of his coffee and blinks in surprise.

                It’s perfect.

…            …            …

                He drags himself through his morning routine and heads to Ice’s house, needs to see Sarah and the others, the only family he has. Or at least that he’s currently talking to in civil tones. He lets himself get hugged as he hugs them all in return, they’re all talking in soft mumbles with empty platitudes he knows don’t ease the grief. But being with others who are also grieving helps. He’s allowed to feel sad and miss him when he’s surrounded by people who feel exactly the same way.

                Sarah is poised and calm, her red eyes the only thing belying the fact that she’s been crying plenty. He’s sitting down talking to Samantha, Ice’s eldest daughter, when Sarah finds him and presses an envelope into his hands.

                “He wanted me to give this to you as quickly as possible after his passing. I think he was adding it to it just yesterday…”

                His throat goes tight and he runs his fingers along the crisp edge of the envelope, swallows and then gives up, lets the tears fall and hugs her back tightly as she presses a kiss to the top of his head, feels Samantha hug him from the side. He guesses he has some reading to do.

…            …            …

Dear Bradley,

If you are reading this it’s because I’m dead. Now, as outcomes go, this isn’t what either of us wanted, I’m sure. I’m glad I only had one rule with you as a teenager, and that you listened to me. This is the natural progression of things, children having to bury their parents. I am sorry that you have had to do this so often though, your life has not often been fair to you. There is one silver lining of being a dead man, and that’s getting a dying wish. Your mother had a dying wish you see, and I didn’t agree with what she wanted, but I had to respect it. It was her dying wish after all. And now this is mine, so if I meet her in the afterlife, then I know she’s not going to be able to hold it over me.

I want you to know that she never wanted you to fly.

She asked Maverick to pull your papers.

I tried to convince both of them that it was a terrible idea. But your mother became very difficult to argue with, being dead and all, and well, Maverick is one of the most stubborn and pig-headed men I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing. I’m glad I’ve been able to count him as being a friend, because having him as an enemy would be ten times worse (and it was already pretty trying some days, as you can imagine). Anyway, I could already envision what would happen, you get your own stubborn and pig-headedness honestly at least, and it was then polished by being raised by Maverick after your mom passed.

Now, I am not asking you to forgive Maverick. However I am asking you to try. He loves you and cares for you, but what he is most terrified about is failing both of your parents. He thinks they’d be perfect parents, so holds himself up to that ideal. He thinks he needs to be perfect. Being a parent myself I know that’s impossible, I’ve just tried my best to make decisions based from a place of love and support. Maverick has always tried to make his decisions based on what he thinks your parents would want for you. Your mom didn’t want you to fly and yet here you are. And Maverick has to see that and know he failed her. And he failed you. And he will always believe he failed your father.

I never had to second guess my parenting decisions, even if I would later make a different decision with hindsight. I knew I made the best decision I could at the time with the information I had, making it from a place of love, then I couldn’t really regret it. Maverick second guesses everything when it comes to you. For all his don’t think, just do bullshit, he overthinks everything when it comes to you.

One of your parents gave you anything and everything you wanted, because he only saw you for a few months of your entire life. In between all the training and deployments, it just wasn’t enough. He loved you, do not ever doubt that, and he’d be so proud of the man you are today. I believe he would have supported you going to USNA with his whole heart. He’d be proud of you being a naval aviator. He would love that you were a pilot.

Your mother had to become both parents and then manage your early teen years and at the same time she wanted to protect you from everything bad in the world. She couldn’t protect you from losing your father, or then losing her, and I am sure she thought she was protecting you by asking Maverick to pull your USNA papers. However neither of your parents knew you as well as Maverick knew you, and yet he tasked himself with an impossible task.

So you have had a parent who only knew you really as a baby, another as a child, then another as a young man and now you’re an adult with a life and career of his own. You might have a better chance of getting Maverick into therapy than I ever did, simply by asking him. I am proud that you go. That you listened and took my advice. It’s always nice to be right. It’s been a pleasure watching you grow into the man you are today, and I know you will continue to grow.

Having you back in my life has been one of my joys. Getting to know you again, share stories with you. I’ve written a lot more down for you, and there’s a box with your name on it. Lots of photos because I’m old and we had film cameras. Make all the old jokes you want, I’m dead and I don’t care. Growing old is a luxury for some, and I am glad I got as far as I did. Anyway, I think Samantha might be digitizing the photos. Ask her. Please stay in touch with them all. You are a part of our family, even if it didn’t feel that way for you for some years. You are always welcome, never forget that. I want you to be in each other’s lives again. Maverick’s as well. You need him even if you think you don’t. And he needs you too. You’re both going to get invitations to Kazansky family gatherings, and it’s going to be awkward if you’re not talking to each other. At least give it a try. That’s all I’m asking.

Never forget how loved you are Bradley.

By all of your parents.

Ice

Saw you flying today. Made me so proud. Also made me wish I could have flown with you. Watching you fly is like watching the best of myself and Maverick. He is very unhappy with me about the mission. Doesn’t want to have to make the choice. He views it as lose-lose all round, which might be true. I hope it isn’t, for both your sakes. If I have any say in it you’ll all return safely home. I’m tired, so I’m going to go to bed now. Love you kid.

…            …            …

                They’ve been given the day off, which seems a little ridiculous considering how close the mission is. He’s immeasurably glad though, he feels shaky and emotionally raw, and he still has to get through the funeral and somehow process the whole shifting worldview that his mom made Maverick promise. That Maverick wouldn’t just tell him that confuses him, what would he do? Hate his mom for wanting to keep him safe? He just doesn’t get it. He opens his phone, not really having had a chance to look at it since the morning after he’d sent his coffee picture. Jas hadn’t replied by the time he left to go to Ice’s house, but when he opens his phone now he can see he has a couple of new notifications. The coffee cup in reply looks familiar and he realizes it’s his coffee cup. The one he usually uses except this morning… What the hell?

                He opens up Grindr and clicks on the new message, is pretty sure he knows what to expect when it displays and there it is.

>>I’m in the Dagger Squad.

                Just like that his world tilts on its axis again and he stares at the five words. Closes it and then reopens the app. Reads the words again. Actually turns off his phone and forces it to re-start. The words stay the same.

                JAS.

                Born in 1986.

                Texan.

                God he’s an idiot.

                Not just in the navy, he’s a Naval aviator.

                A photo of his own coffee cup sent back to him from this morning.

                He’s laughing at his own stupidity and he’s already cried so much today but he feels like he might just burst into tears again, his emotions all too exposed and he needs to find out where Jas-Jake-Seresin, (what the hell does he call him now?), lives. He rings Natasha, knows she’s still with Coyote. Coyote will know where Jake, (Jake feels right? Maybe?), lives. Because it’s not on base. Of course Coyote won’t give him the address and Bradley feels like screaming. Tells him to ask Jake, then to text it through to him when he gives it to him. He’s that certain Jake will give it to him. He could just ask himself, but he also doesn’t want to give Jake an opportunity to ignore him. Not that he thinks he will.

                Last night suddenly makes a lot more sense, now that he thinks about it. No one else would have known about Ice passing, and yet Jake turned up, because he’d figured it out. God. When did he figure it out? He’s trying to reconcile Jas and Jake Seresin in his head. The brash confident and arrogant naval aviator he knows and has had plenty of sex with, and Jas, the open, vulnerable and sweetly-sassy man that he’s… also had plenty of sex with. Well. At least he knows they can handle the long-distance aspect of any relationship. God he really wants to see him now.

                The address comes through and he taps it into his phone, following the directions as he drives, wishes it was closer. He doesn’t bother telling Jake he’s on his way, he already knows because Coyote has given Bradley his address. With permission. He pulls up and it’s a newly built block of condos, and he has to look for a carpark for too long before he finds one. He lets himself feel annoyed at the poor planning, grateful that it pushes the grief and shocked-joy just to the side for a moment, no matter how brief. It allows him to gather his bearings as he walks up the pavement and knocks on the door. While he waits for an answer, he wonders if he should send a message. Why the hell not.

>>Answer the door Jas.

>>Give me one good reason.

>>I love you.

>>Now please answer the door.

                “Hi.”

                “Hi.”

                He stands there and just… looks. Jake’s wearing exactly the same clothes as when he left Bradley’s place earlier today, and he looks soft. A little scared and Bradley realizes that he’s maybe worried that Bradley might be disappointed somehow. He reaches out, slow enough that Jake can stop him, or step away; cups his cheek in his hand, runs a thumb over the apple of his cheek. Wants to enfold him in a hug and be hugged in return.

                “Thank you.”

                “Uh. You’re welcome?”

                “You want to know what I’m thanking you for?”

                “Sure.”

                “My second chance. Always planned on thanking you in person.”

                “Um. Yeah.”

                Bradley bites his lip, won’t mention aloud the groveling and body worship that Jas had mentioned, is sure that Jake might not yet be in a place to hear him say words out loud. Written word is something completely different. He wants to kiss him, definitely wants to carry out the body worship, but he feels like they’re all the way at the beginning, needing to feel each other out a little bit, emotionally that is.

                “Can I hug you?”

                “Yeah, of course. Come in and close the door.”

                Of all the hugs he’s had today this one feels the best, firm, grounding and warm. Both of Jake’s arms around him, head resting against Bradley’s shoulder while his nose and mouth press against the side of his head. He presses a kiss to the top of his head.

                “When did you figure it out?” Bradley asks.

                “When did I suspect, or when did I know? Because there’s kind of different stages I went through…”

                “Yeah? Want to share? Because I… needed you to point it out apparently.”

                “Always a little slow Bradshaw…”

                “Oh my god I’m never going to live this down am I?”

                “Nope. Probably not.”

                “Okay. I’m okay with that. Come on. Blow me away with your superior intellect…”

                “You want to have this conversation while we hug in my entryway?”

                “I don’t want to let you go.”

                “Oh. I have a sofa? Or a, uh, bed?”

                “How about we start on the sofa. Can we both fit?”

                “Worth a try…”

                He makes himself comfortable in the corner and then holds out his arms, silently inviting Jake to curl up in them, to settle himself in the v of his legs. He desperately wants to be holding him again and hopes he equally wants to be held. Fortunately Jake seems to, relaxes against him and Bradley feels a sense of contentedness well up inside him. They’re both facing the same direction and part of him is glad; feels like it might be a little too overwhelming to have this coming conversation face-to-face. It’s like a compromise between being online versus facing each other.

                “So… what was your first clue?”

                “Uh, your shirt at the Hard Deck. Payback made a comment about how it wouldn’t be possible to miss seeing you arrive and it pinged something in my mind, about when we were meant to met up. You said I wouldn’t miss you…”

                “Ugh. You mean the time I stood you up to sleep with… you. I’m still very sorry about that by the way.”

                “Well, I’ve sort of made my peace with it. I mean, I can stop being jealous about the other guy at least…”

                Bradley huffs in amusement, tightens his arms around him a little.

                “Oh… When you asked whether I was going to apologize about fashion crimes. That was you sounding me out.”

                “Trying at least. You blanked me so I figured it was just a coincidence.”

                “Okay… then what?”

                “Um. I saw a photo of your dad. Nicholas Bradshaw.”

                “Nick.”

                “And Bradley Bradshaw. NickNick. Stupid double-barreled names. Then I remembered your first username, and you hating the name Pete… And how you really don’t like Maverick. Lots of coincidences that just suddenly were too many to just ignore and they made sense.”

                “Yeah…” Bradley breathes, smiling against Jake’s hair. He likes that Jake has been paying such close attention, would never have thought it of Seresin or Hangman, but it’s definitely Jake through and through.

                “So… Uh. I suspected and then seeing that photo kind of confirmed it. Your moustache and how you said you look like him. Your dad I mean. You do look a lot like him. Anyway, I thought you knew who I was, and you were making fun of me.”

                “What? Never...”

                Jake twists to give him a look, eyebrow raised in disbelief and Bradley shakes his head.

                “Not about this,” Bradley stresses.

                “So, I suspected, and then I thought you knew and hadn't told me and I got so angry...”

                “You picked a fight,” Bradley says with dawning realization, because he’s fucking been there and done the same thing, like picking at a wound.

                “I wanted to hurt you. I'm sorry.”

                “I swear I had no idea.”

                “Oh yeah, I know that now. Last night when I turned up... I almost asked you. Last night was when I started to realize that you really had no idea.”

                “Gorgeous and smart…” Bradley says, and he’s never seen Jake blush before, but he’s doing it now, his face going pink from the corner of Bradley’s eye. “And then my coffee cup picture from this morning... Shit. That’s when you really realized I was truly fucking clueless.”

                “Yeah. And I needed to figure out a way of telling you but I had no idea how…”

                “Well, you did a good job telling me. You made my coffee perfectly and I still didn’t put it all together.”

                “Still took you long enough to get here though.”

                “Oh, I didn’t check the messages until about an hour ago. I messaged Coyote pretty much immediately. Did you think it took me that long to figure it out after you told me you were in the Dagger Squad?”

                “Well, it has been about four hours.”

                “No! I’ve been at Ice’s all morning. Spending time with the family.”

                Jake makes a choking sound.

                “You’re actually… family?”

                “Yeah,” Bradley says with a quiet sigh. “After my mom died and when Mav was deployed I lived with Ice and his family. When I left Mav I pretty much left Ice too. I made up with him a few years ago. Here. Read this…”

                He shifts awkwardly and pulls the letter out of his pocket, pulling Jake back into his arms and handing it to him.

                “Are you sure?”

                “Yeah. I have literally no secrets from you.”

                He reads it again over Jake’s shoulder, let’s himself cry again and tries to not feel self-conscious about the fact that he’s holding Jake and crying. He’s allowed to feel emotions. He’s not an automaton.

                “Jesus Bradley…”

                It’s the first time Jake has said his name and he lets out another little hiccupping cry, but it has happiness behind it this time, not that Jake can tell and he lets out a little laugh of just how ridiculous the whole situation is.

                “Yeah. Ever had emotional whiplash? I think that’s what I’m experiencing today. It’s pretty fucking rough.”

                “Stay here tonight. Hell. Did you sleep okay last night? You said you didn’t want to be alone…”

                “Last night was great. Exactly what I needed thank you. And yeah, I’ll stay here. Might need to borrow some clothes.”

                “Or we can just… go to bed.”

                “Are you sure?”

                “Ni-, Ro, Bradley… I do not want to waste any more time, especially considering how much time we might not have.”

                Fuck. Now there’s a depressing thought. Although it also seems like Jake is having the same internal battle about what to call him as he’s been having.

                “What’s your middle name?”

                “What?”

                “I’ve been calling you Jas in my head for so long, when I get angry with you I’m going to need to full name you…”

                “Jacob Andrew Seresin.”

                “Bradley Peter Bradshaw. Nice to meet you.”

                “You’re an idiot,” Jake says, but he’s turning, shifting to face him and Bradley smiles, knows he probably looks messy with fresh tear tracks, but he’s smiling at him and Jake is smiling back.

                “We were so close so many times weren’t we…”

                “Yep. Think it had some silver linings though.”

                “Yeah? Like what?” Bradley asks, because he’s curious.

                “Don’t want to think about some of them right now. Want to take you to bed.”

                “Yeah. Lead the way…”

…            …            …                 Every touch is reverent, and he hasn’t slept with anyone in a long while, not since he last slept with Jake in fact, which has him realizing that he hasn’t done anything sexual with anyone but Jake for… nearly three years. Huh. He’ll share that little tidbit of information later, when he’s not sliding his hands under Jake’s t-shirt and working it up off his body. Jake’s working Bradley’s clothes off, and he doesn’t usually feel the need to check in, not when it’s the middle of the day, both completely sober, but he still needs to, the emotions of everything making it a necessity.

                “Okay?”

                “Yeah, yeah. It's okay. This isn’t our first fucking time…”

                Bradley grins, lets himself press his body against Jake’s, letting them both lower their bodies into Jake’s bed. He’ll pay more attention to Jake’s room and bed when he no longer wants to give absolutely every bit of his attention to the man under his hands and mouth.

                “Sorry if I want to cater to my body worshipping kink…”

                “Selfish,” Jake says, his voice breathy and Bradley bites at his collarbone lightly.

                “Yeah. Very selfish. You should totally kick me to the curb.”

                “Mmm. See if you can convince me otherwise…”

                He feels a happy and excited swoop of pleasure that Jake seems playful, happy in himself to have Bradley in his bed, to stay in his bed for more than just sex.

                “I love you,” Bradley murmurs, and he kisses a trail down Jake's neck, then back up. Lets his fingers touch everywhere he can reach, captures Jake’s mouth in a kiss as he grinds his hips down, feels Jake’s mouth gasp open and he licks into it. They’ve had sex with each other a lot, but it’s never quite felt this heavy. Like every touch, every shift of their bodies against each other, carries with it a little bit extra weight, extra meaning.

                “I love you.”

                There are definite benefits to already being familiar with Jake’s body, knowing how he responds, what he likes. It’s been long enough since they last slept together than it’s all novel and new, while also having the deep-rooted feeling of familiarity and sense of homecoming. He wants to worship every inch of him, Jake seems more than willing to let him. The fact he can pepper his actions with I love you is exhilarating, being able to both show Jake and tell him in equal measure.

                He knows he can make Jake come twice, wants to take him apart and hold him together, give him absolutely everything. God, all the things he’s fantasized about are now potential things they can explore together and he grins into the jut of Jake’s hips, sucks little kisses as he teases along the band of his underwear.

                “Off off, get them off…”

                “It’s been months, or years, depending on how you count. What’s a few more minutes? You know I like the anticipation and building up.”

                “Fuck off, you can edge me another time. I know you want to. Right now I want you to make me come.”

                “Demanding.”

                “Damn right.”

                He pulls Jake’s underwear down and sucks the head of his cock into his mouth as he continues to work the underwear down his thighs. It’s a little uncoordinated, Jake trying to help by thrusting his hips up, his cock hitting the back of Bradley’s throat so suddenly he gags, unprepared, digs his fingers into his hip to stop him from doing it again as he pulls the underwear off and throws it elsewhere. He feels Jake’s fingers running through his hair, deliberately ignores the subtle direction to go faster, slows down and grins when he hears Jake groan and mumble asshole under his breath. Jake groans again, his whole body tensing then relaxing under him and Bradley lets himself finally speed up.

                He shifts, kneels between Jake’s spread legs so he can get an unobstructed view up his torso, can watch his face as Bradley gets his hands and mouth all over him. His fingers encircle Jake’s cock and he works fast, mouth and tongue licking over his balls before sucking the head back into his mouth. Jake is watching him, mouth open, chest shuddering with broken breaths and Bradley feels a swell of sudden and immense gratitude that he gets to have this. That Jake is allowing him to have it.

                “I love you,” he says, his eyes not leaving Jake’s as he opens his mouth and sucks Jake down again, lets Jake’s hips thrust up, ready for it this time and shivers at how gorgeous Jake sounds saying his name. He works his hand faster, presses a knuckle against his perinium, licks and sucks his balls and it’s a tight fit but Jake just stretches his legs wider to give him more space to work. He sees the muscles in Jake’s stomach clench, loves that he knows that that’s one of Jake’s tells, that he’s close to coming. Then he is, shooting up over Bradley’s fist, hitting his chest and stomach.

                “I love you,” Bradley says again, it becomes like a prayer as he runs his hands over his calves and thighs, presses kisses up his inner thigh and his balls again. His eyes haven’t left Jake’s. He licks up Jake’s stomach, cleaning up Jake’s come as he goes, smirks at the little broken sound Jake makes. Wonders if he should have said something about the lack of condom this time, but hopes that Jake simply trusts him. Three fucking years.

                “God I love you…” Bradley whisper, wants, needs, Jake to know the truth of him. Jake kisses him, tongue seeking out every groove between his teeth, moaning against him and he realizes he’s maybe getting off on the taste of himself in Bradley’s mouth. God they’re going to be able to explore and try so much more now that they have the trust that exists between them. Something he knew he wanted, and to have it, he feels so damn lucky.

                Both of Jake’s hands are in his hair, he’s being kissed so thoroughly, Jake’s grinding his hips up against him where he’s partially holding himself above him. Then one of Jake’s hands is on his ass, gripping and pulling and oh. He grinds down, presses his erection against Jake and grins into his mouth.

                “Why are you still wearing underwear?” Jake complains.

                “Mmm… was too busy getting reacquainted with your body.”

                He loves the torn expression on Jake’s face, clearly wants to argue some point, but also can’t think of anything that he can argue about. Instead he digs his fingers into Bradley’s ass cheek and rolls his hips and Bradley moans, much closer than he thought he was. He wants to drag this out, continue re-learning every inch of Jake’s body with all his years of knowledge he’s acquired.

                “Come on, want to get my mouth on you… take you fucking underwear off.”

                Oh. This isn’t quite going the way he had planned in his head, but he stands and quickly strips off the garment which Jake has been scowling at. He’s more than okay doing what Jake wants as well. He follows Jake’s annoyed muttering directions until he’s straddling his chest, head of his cock a mere inch above Jake’s mouth. It’s a fucking gorgeous sight and his mouth is dry as he watches Jake, eyes dark, and then the tight warm heat of Jake’s mouth takes him in and he groans, his hips twitching reflexively. Then Jake’s hands are on his hips, encouraging him and his eyes fall shut as he lets himself start rolling his hips, the suction around his cock tight and warm. He opens his eyes to look at Jake, to give himself a visual to what he’s feeling and experiencing and –

                “Oh god… Jake. Fuck.”

                He pulls out sharply, not able to give any warning before he’s coming. Not that coming all over Jake’s face and neck is any better than coming in his mouth, but he’s not going to assume. His breath is coming in panting gasps, his body shaking and he puts a hand down to hold himself up, stares and Jake’s eyes carefully open and Bradley shifts down, needs to be kissing him again. He cleans up his own come this time, peppers his licks with kisses and murmured I love yous against the shell of Jake’s ear. It’s not what he had planned maybe, but it’s no less perfect. They’re going to need a shower, and he can’t wait to introduce that new level of intimacy into their relationship. He settles beside him, pulls up the sheet and reaches out to place a hand on his waist, fingers brushing softly.

                “So… It’s nice to finally meet you. Properly I mean…” Bradley says, eyes searching Jake’s face and he’s smiling and feeling fond and content. Soft, he realizes, thinking about Natasha’s word she uses to describe him sometimes, especially the last couple of years when he’s been working at getting better at being more in touch with his emotions.

                “I love you,” Jake says, and like hearing his name for the first time Bradley feels like he’s going to burst. At the same time it’s like Jake Hangman Seresin melts away and Jas is there, eyes wet with unshed tears and he kisses him again, feels the wetness slide over the pad of his thumb.

                “I love you so much.”

                “Can’t believe it took us this long.”

                “You know we could have avoided all this if we'd just told each other our names...” Bradley says, because he’s definitely going to dig a little. He’s still him.

                “Names? We could have sent each other photos of our faces…”

                “Neither of which you wanted by the way. So I’m making you take the blame for just how long it took. But you also get the credit for figuring it out…”

                “Damn right I do.”

                “Love you Jake…”

                “God you’re a sap…”

                “Only with you.”

                Jake blushes and Bradley smirks, because genuine sincerity is apparently the way to make him a complete mess.

…            …            …

                Their day back at training after Ice’s funeral he feels more settled and is immediately thrown off balance again by the fact that Maverick isn’t there. He sits there in disbelief as he hears Admiral Simpson outline new parameters and agrees with every muttered and under-the-breath comment. A little distracted by the noise coming in over the radio.

                “Uh, Maverick, range control, uh, green range is confirmed. I don’t see an event scheduled for you, sir.”

                “Well, I’m going anyway.”

                “Nice,” Natasha murmurs and Bradley rolls his eyes. Of fucking course everyone is already impressed with him. He hasn’t even fucking done anything yet.

                “Setting time to target: Two minutes fifteen seconds.”

                “Two-fifteen? That’s impossible.”

                Bradley agrees in principle, however he also knows that Maverick knows himself. He wouldn’t set a time like that if he didn’t truly believe he could fly it. Jake turns around and smirks at him, as if to say this is your fucked up family and Bradley subtly gives him the finger, although inwardly he feels thrilled that he has someone with him, that knows him so well and his whole bullshit relationship with Mav. It’s such a relief, especially now that Ice is gone.

                “Final attack point. Maverick’s inbound.”

                He looks around the room, and he understands why everyone is so invested. If Maverick can do this then it proves it’s actually possible. He already knows it is, Maverick wouldn’t be trying to teach them if he didn’t think it wasn’t possible. But the others need to know it. Know it like he does.

                “Popping in three, two, one.”

                He leans forward, can feel the tension in the room mounting.

                “Bombs away.”

                Seconds tick by.

                “Bull’s-eye!” “Holy shit!” “Yes.”

                “Damn.”

                Damn indeed.

                He knows then, looking at Cyclone and Warlock’s faces that they’re probably going to send Maverick. Make him team lead. Which means either he's going, or Jake is going. There aren’t any guarantees and he can't believe their actual time together may only be counted in days.

…            …            …

                By mutual agreement they don’t talk about it. They also don’t mention anything to anyone else, instead sequestering themselves away at his family home that no-one knows about except Mav, who definitely won’t be looking. They have to air it out, and deal with the dust and cobwebs, but’s it’s not as bad as it could be and he wonders if he has something else to retroactively thank Ice for, even if he can’t anymore. They buy new sheets and pillows and the entire house soon smells of them and sex and takeout food, neither of them wanting to waste time cooking when they can just be holding each other.

                He keeps up his morning cup of coffee picture, tells Jake he doesn’t ever want him to doubt how he feels about him, even when he’s lying in bed and the cup of coffee in question is brought to him by a nearly naked Jake. Tells him the view that comes with his morning cup of coffee is much improved. The time they have together might be short but he’s going to make the most of every moment they have together.

…            …            …

                “It has been an honor flying with you. Each one of you represents the best of the best. This is a very specific mission. My choice is a reflection of that and nothing more.”

                He feels sick. He doesn’t care about flying and proving Mav wrong. Not anymore. He just doesn’t want Jake to go and then not come back. He has no idea who Mav will choose, and he knows Jake feels the same about him going. They’re both good. But there are so many things that can go wrong. There’s a reason why Mav has been listing off fucking miracles.

                “Choose your two foxtrot teams.”

                “Payback and Fanboy. Phoenix and Bob.”

                “And your wing man?”

                “Rooster.”

                The relief he feels is immediate, knowing that Jake is going to be safe. Is going to live. It’s immense. The look of on Jake’s makes him feel sick though, because he knows it’s exactly what he’d be feeling if Jake had just been named Maverick’s wingman instead. They find a quiet spot and Jake kisses him like he’s trying to climb inside his body, Bradley presses them together like he’d let him climb inside if he could. Then they’re having to head up on deck.

                “Give em hell,” Jake says, and he doesn’t need to say any more, he can see the unspoken words in his eyes and tense line of his jaw. You come back to me, you have to come back to me. He nods in understanding, an unspoken promise.

…            …            …

                He can’t lose his last parent, not now.

                God.

                If he survives this Jake is definitely going to kill him.

                And he’s probably going to get kicked out of the Navy.

                He hopes Jake will be okay with him being unemployed.

…            …            …

                “You all right?”

                “Yeah, I’m good. You all right?”

                Then he’s being pushed to the ground and he winces at the pain in his ribs, his head swimming a bit. Fuck. He thinks he has a concussion.

                “What the hell?”

                “What are you doing here?”

                “What am I doing here?

                “You think I took that missile so you could be down here with me? You should be back on the carrier by now!”

                “I saved your life!”

                “I saved your life! That’s the whole point! What the hell were you even thinking?”

                “You told me not to think!” Bradley snaps, because he’s got tone on him now, the fucking self-righteous asshole. They both pant, catching their breath and just stare at each other for a few moments, and he still doesn’t really know how he’s going to relearn how to not be constantly angry or upset with Maverick.

                “Well, it’s good to see you.”

                “It’s good to see you too,” Bradley states, because he’s meant to be building bridges, not yelling, no matter how much of an idiot he thinks Maverick is.

                “So what’s the plan?”

                Maverick is insane.

                That’s the plan.

                No sane person would think this was somehow feasible.

                “You’re not serious.”

                He’s thinking about Ice’s letter, talking about how he was always glad to have Maverick on his side, because it beat having Maverick as an enemy and god he hopes that still remains true. That Maverick has some infinite well of good luck. Or a guardian angel. Hopefully both.

                “You’ve got to be shitting me. An F-14?”

                “I shot down three migs in one of those.”

                “We don’t even know if that bag of ass can fly.”

                “Let’s find out.”

                “Mav!” Bradley calls out, but he’s already hustling away. “Oh for fucks’ sake…” Bradley mutters under his breath as he heaves his aching body up and convinces himself that he has to follow Mav. Does he not have pain receptors? Surely he’s aching at least half as badly as Bradley is.

                “There’s guys up there, Mav.”

                “Yeah.”

                “There’s more over there.”

                “Okay. Let’s start running.”

                “Yeah, run. Run.”

                He feels like he’s stepped back in time, the hangar holding the enemy F14 rusty. His body coursing with adrenaline and Maverick is looking crazy-eyed. Bradley knows the feeling.

                “Once… once I give you the signal for air, you’re gonna flip this switch until the needle gets to 120. When the engine starts, you got to pull out the pins and disconnect everything. You understand?”

                “Yeah.”

                Then Maverick is running around and Bradley’s glad that he apparently knows what he’s doing. He thinks of Ice and how he’d always said how crazy Maverick was. He’d always sort of thought he was exaggerating for the sake of telling a good story but is starting to think he downplayed some of the more dangerous shit that Mav has taken part of. It’s a little terrifying to think about. He hops into the back of the F-14 and stares at all the dials and little screens, only vaguely familiar. Maybe from a visit to a fucking museum. He’s starting to really believe that Mav lives the not thinking aspect of his motto, because when he questions the wings coming out, raises entirely valid concerns about it being a taxiway he is just plain ignored. No. He gets told to hang on, like he has another option or any say in the matter.

                “Holy shit!”

                Holy shit seems to be his inner and outer mantra for the next few moments, Maverick intent on having a one-sided conversation that he doesn’t need to contribute to, which is just as well because he has nothing of value to add. The way Maverick asks him to get in touch with the boat is infuriating, like it’s a simple press of a button like a kid’s walkie-talkie. Nothing is fucking working, and he doesn’t know enough to get it working. He has to ask, feels like Mav is teaching him how to drive all over again, and that was an unmitigated disaster until Ice and Sarah took over.

                “Throw the, uh… The uhf-2 circuit breaker. Try that.”

                “There’s 300 breakers back here. Anything more specific?”

                “I don’t know. That was your dad’s department.”

                “I’ll figure it out,” Bradley mutters, and he continues looking, only to see something out of the corner of his eye and he freezes for a micro-second. “Mav, tally two, five o’clock low. What do we do?”

                No one is ever going to believe him that Mav’s plan here is wave and smile. He follows the instructions though, can hardly believe that it somehow buys enough time for Mav’s brain to speed through however many options he thinks he has. Bradley doesn’t know how many he’s got, he can’t get past the idea that he’s going to die. Again. The idea of dying. Not actual dying. Maybe it’s just a day where he’s going to constantly think he’s going to die, but never actually does. Fuck he really really hopes so. He will live with the nightmares if he doesn’t actually have to die.

                “All right, listen up. When I tell you, you grab those rings above your head. That’s the ejection handle.”

                “Mav, can we outrun these guys?”

                “Not their missiles and guns.”

                “Then it’s a dogfight.”

                “An F-14 against fifth-gen fighters?”

                “It’s not the plane, it’s the pilot. You’d go after them if I wasn’t here,” Bradley states, absolutely certain of the fact. The taxiway was apparently easy and not risky at all. Holy shit his mind supplies.

                “But you are here,” Mav counters.

                “Come on, Mav. Don’t think. Just do.”

                God he hopes he doesn’t die. Then Mav has shot one of them down and he can’t believe it, warns him about the next one, feels helpless without the option to fire his own missiles. Watching the fifth-gen fighter in action is unreal and god he wants to fly one. Then they’re getting low and heading back into the canyon area, heading out toward the sea, so at least in the general direction of the boat at least. He’s grateful that the terrain does seem to confuse the targeting system, that they still haven’t been shot down and he knows if he lives through this he will need to thank Mav every day. Fuck. If Ice is somehow watching he’ll make sure it happens just to ensure they make up. It would be a power move from him for sure.

                When the second fifth-gen plane goes down, the pilot ejecting just before it smashes into the side of the canyon walls Bradley feels his heart start beating again, like his entire body has been in stasis for however long that all took. It probably wasn’t longer than a couple of minutes, but it feels like a lifetime and the briefest moment in time all at once. Through some miracle he gets the radio working, and if anyone asks him what he did he won’t be able to tell them. He attempts to get in touch with the boat, but he’s not sure if it’s working two-way, too distracted by the sudden beeping indicating the location of a bogey and he looks for it, knows he needs to be another set of eyes. Why can they not catch a fucking break? The fifth generation fighter appearing on their nose is a blow, as is them running out ammo, then flares. Nothing left to offer even the smallest splinter of hope. The plane is taking hits and he’s glad they built them to withstand hits because they would be dead by now. Then Mav is talking about gaining altitude and ejecting and he listens this time, pulls the handles desperately, his stomach sinking when nothing happens, the ejection function clearly broken.

                “I’m sorry, Goose.”

                Oh shit. He can almost feel the waves of Mav’s guilt, that his death is going to be as his back seater just like his dad. He feels like throwing up, not advisable and he’s not going to be alive to have to do anything about it –

                BOOM.

                The explosion, cloud of black smoke, vibrations and then the new jet appearing all happen simultaneously. Then the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard.

                “Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. This is your savior speaking. Please fasten your seat belts, return your tray tables to their locked and upright positions… And prepare for landing.”

                “Hey, Hangman, you look good.”

                “I am good, Rooster. I’m very good. I’ll see you back on deck.”

                He’s pretty sure there’s a threat in there but he could cry he’s so relieved and happy. Soon the adrenaline coursing through his body is going to stop and he’s going to hit a wall but Jake will be there. Mav will be there.

                He’s alive.

                Nothing else matters.

…            …            …

                Having working engines to land matter.

                He’s once again very glad that Mav is the one flying.

                Fuck this shit.

…            …            …

                He’s never crash landed on a deck before and he never wants to do it again. He wonders if people have bucket lists of things they don’t want to have happen, but which have happened anyway. Sounds like it might make for depressing lists.

                “You good?”

                “Yeah. I’m good,” Bradley says, but he’s already thinking about saying similar words to Jake. Searches for him as he steps down from the F-14, his legs wobbly, body aching and head starting to pitch like he’s in a storm. He spies Jake, can’t help but smile at him goofily. He looks so good and he wants to kiss him. It’s probably not a good idea.

                “Chalked yourself another kill.”

                “That makes two,” Jake says, and Bradley will save the fact that he now technically has three for a day when he needs to bring Jake down a peg. Or when he needs to remind him that he had no choice, because taking life is not a thrill either of them particularly want.

                “Mav has five. Makes him an ace.”

                Bradley shakes his head, because he’s pretty sure Mav doesn’t like the idea that he’s killed people either, although again he expects similar sage advice to don’t think if he ever asks him about it. Maybe he might surprise him though. He calls out to him, glad they’re at least going to have a chance of mending their relationship and he smiles, starting to feel the world tilt again.

                “Thank you for saving my life.

                “It’s what my dad would’ve done,” Bradley says, and he knows it’s the truth. The hug he gets has him wincing and Jake hasn’t stepped further away than a couple of feet, has clearly been watching him carefully, is pushing his way towards him, his hands running over Bradley's face and torso in concern and he presses his face into his hand, suddenly feeling like sleep would be a really good thing to do right now.

                “You need to go to the fucking sickbay.”

                “Uh… Something you want to share with the class Hangman?” Natasha asks.

                “Yeah. I just saved his life, don't want him to fall off the fucking carrier and waste all my hard work.”

                “Come on, take me to sickbay.”

                “Okay, that’s weird... Maybe he's concussed,” Natasha says.

                “Oh, he’s definitely concussed,” Maverick says, and Bradley wants to argue, but Jake’s arm is around his waist and supporting him, leading him away from the noise.

                Then they’re going down some steps, Jake turns at the bottom and reaches for him, kisses him and Bradley smiles and hums appreciatively, even with his brain feeling like it’s swimming in soup he’ll never turn down being kissed by Jake.

                “I thought you were taking me to sickbay?”

                “I am, but first I’m going to kiss you because I am so happy to see you alive. And I won’t yell at you, because I’m pretty sure you’ve got a concussion –”

                “And broken ribs,” Bradley adds, because he’s pretty that where the pain is coming from.

                “Jesus Rooster. I am so angry with you. How dare you risk yourself like that. You’re an idiot!”

                “Your idiot though. I hope?”

                “Yes you’re mine. Damn it. Come on, sickbay.”

                “Thought you were going to kiss me?”

                “I did, but then you mentioned broken ribs. And I’m thinking we’re going to have to get creative for a little bit while you mend… come on.”

…            …            …

                Of course Mav ends up in the sick bay too, being forced to be looked over by an exasperated Cyclone and amused looking Warlock. Both clearly relieved that everyone is back alive, even if not well.

                “So, how long have you two been together then?” Mav asks, and Bradley follows his gaze to his and Jake’s linked fingers. The fact that Jake hasn’t left his side. Yeah. That’s not subtle at all. He guesses they’re done with keeping it from everyone then. He’s more than okay with that.

                “Couple of days.”

                “Over a decade.”

                They look at each other and both pull a face.

                “It's complicated.”

                Maverick looks between them and simply nods his head.

…            …            …

                Jake doesn’t leave him alone, only when Natasha arrives and tells Jake to go and eat and have a shower does he actually go, kissing him quickly and throwing Natasha a wink as he leaves. She looks a bit worried and confused and he’d laugh if it didn’t hurt so much.

                “So… you finally giving up on your penpal huh? Settling with Hangman?”

                “What?”

                “Your online boyfriend. You giving the thing with Hangman a go instead now? I thought you were… going with the guy online.”

                “Uh. Not exactly. Jake is my online boyfriend.”

                “What?”

                “Yeah.”

                “The guy you’ve been… holy shit. You’ve been together for years and you’ve only just figured it out?”

                Oh fuck, he realizes his mistake then, realizes he’s never going to hear the end of it. From both her and Jake both. And probably fucking Coyote too.

                “Haven’t the two of you been fucking each other for like, the last three years?”

                “Natasha!”

                “Oh no, I have heard too many drunken ramblings about his ass to let this go. You owe me so many foot massages if you want me to keep this quiet.”

                “Fuck.”

 …           …            …

>>I need to tell you something.

>>Through Grindr?

>>Yeah well, it’s relevant I guess.

>>Wanted to tell you before I delete it off my phone.

>>I haven’t hooked up with anyone but you since 2016.

>>I mean, it’s either been you in person, or you on here. So no one but you.

                “Really?” Jake asks, voice loud in the quiet of the room.

                “Yeah, really.”

                “Oh.”

                “Mmm. You’re my first choice online and you’re my first choice in person so pretty much makes you my only choice…”

                “Good. Just the way I like it.”

                “Me too.”

2019 - Jake's POV

[wehangout]

Another @shamelessdvdcommentary requested by the wonderful @suzy-queued with questions made by the amazing @callivich! This one is for Slick back My Hair (You know the Devil's in There)! These are a lot of fun, so hit me up if you want to see this for a different fic 😘

Give us some stats - (when you wrote it, word count, how long it took to finish, is it a one-shot/multi-chapter, etc)

Wrote it in 2015! It’s a long one-shot, and I think my second ever shameless big bang.

What was the initial inspiration for your story?

Okay. Took me a minute. I knew this was inspired by a one-shot I wrote for GW2015 that has since been taken down, but I also knew the one-shot was inspired by something and it took forever to go back and figure it out. Anyway, the initial one-shot was inspired by the Day 7 theme of “Imagine Your OTP – go to the website http://otpprompts.tumblr.com/ and choose a prompt!”. I don’t recall what the exact prompt was (I think digging a grave together), BUT apparently I still have the one-shot posted here on tumblr if you wanna read it! So, yeah, the Big Bang fic was inspired by this one-shot which was inspired by GW2015. Phew. That was a novel on its own

If the story is written from a character’s POV, why did you choose this character?

Mickey. Because I am me.

What was your favourite scene to write?

I’m not sure, but reading back, I really like the scenes with side characters as assasins. Sheila, Jimmy, and Angela. Fun stuff.

How did you come up with the title?

Ugh. This was back when iTunes was a thing lmao. I basically went through all my music, picking out songs I thought might fit the fic’s plot, then went through the lyrics.

Are there any little moments or references you hope readers will notice?

Two! I had fake IDs with the names John Foley and Axel McClane which is a reference to John McClane and Axel Foley – Die Hard and Beverly Hills Cop respectively. And I also had this line “Two inches to the right and it would’ve hit your fucking heart, Ian.” "Two inches to the left and it would have missed me completely” which was reference to The Mighty Ducks. Only one reader picked up on these lol.

Was there anything you struggled to write? If so, how did you overcome this?

The Terry fight scene. And, honestly, I just pushed through it.

Favourite line in the story?

Okay, the “My hero” continuation, but also, back in 2015, I wrote, word for word, “Knew you’d come.” I mean, it’s Ian saying it, but obvi why it’s a fave lmao

What are you most proud about in the story? (plot, characterisation, dialogue, twist/cliffhanger, etc)

I wouldn’t call them twists, but the little surprises that turn up along the way – Sheila being a badass, the texter being Mandy.

Are there any ‘behind the scenes’ info you’d like to share - e.g. what’s going on in a characters head in a certain scene or how you came to write a certain line?

At the end, where Mickey goes to save Ian. Ian’s “goodbye” is legit. Dude was sure they (at least he) was going to die.

Reading back the story now, is there anything you’d change or add?

It’s very quick. I’d probably add more depth to it. (also the title shh)

Would you ever write a sequel to this story?

I’ve considered it, but one half of the dynamic duo gets taken in this one. What other plot could there be?

Are there any ‘easter eggs’ in your story - e.g. references to other stories you’ve written, a trope you often use etc?

I think I did the big Oh moment in this, along with a few others. I think that’s about it.

If you’ve chosen your most popular story, are you surprised by the popularity?

This is definitely not my most popular, lol, but I appreciate the love it’s received!

Were you nervous or excited to post this story?

Oh, always excited

Did you have a beta or a friend who helped you as you wrote?

I did! Again, this was back in 2015 when my pal Ella @hubrisandwax was still around. We had similar time zones, so we’d Skype and write at night (poetry, bitch), and have our own little sprints. She was my cheerleader and beta!

Anything else you’d like the readers to know about the story?

I know this is an Ian and Mickey romance, but I actually preferred the scenes after Ian was taken. Getting into Mickey’s head when he’ll do literally anything to get Ian back? Including torture and murder his own brother? That shit was fun.

[0utpost-alpha]

Personal Thoughts On Red vs Blue: Restoration

Alright so, it’s been a few weeks since Red vs Blue Restoration hit the internet. I’ve had time to sit, think, cry and process RvB and Rooster Teeth as a whole ending. As I stated on a previous post, I got into RVB around 2015? I think Season 13 had ended then. So I haven’t really spent as much time with the Sims Troopers as many others have. But those 9 years were wonderful and I’m grateful for finding such an entertaining show and fandom. Any show that can make me laugh my ass off and also make me full on sob my eyes out is 10/10 in my book.

Anyway, moving on. I said I’d put out my own personal thoughts and feelings for Restoration in the form of a Pro’s and Con’s post; so here it is:

THE PROS

The AI Fragments: I LOVE them going back and focusing on the AI fragments again. I remember hearing that Miles was talking about how he was going to do something similar with them after the Chorus Trilogy but things happened and Jason ended up taking over after Season 14. I personally always adored the idea of the Reds and Blues each getting one of the AI fragments that suited their personal needs and would lead to more character development for them later on down the line.

Tucker and the AI’s: On the subject of AI’s, After Season 13, I remember reading a lot of fan theories and fanfics that often brought up what possible side effects Tucker could go through with Epsilon not only shattering but having all those fragments at once helping him power the Meta suit. And it looks like a lot of them weren’t far off! While we will never know what actually happened once those doors were opened, at some point either immediately or not long afterwards, the AI took control and ran off with poor Tucker.

Caboose’s Voice: While it was a little jarring at the beginning, being so used to Joel’s, Michael Malconian did a phenomenal job as Caboose’s voice. I feel like he got that child-like, not all there, but still ready to help out however he can personality down perfect. NGL, I think I actually prefer this voice to the old one. I’m just sad that we won’t get to hear more of this Caboose.

Speaking of Caboose: I love how they had Caboose have a big brain moment. Instead of bringing back Church, something he wanted more than anything, he knew Tex was their best chance against Meta!Tucker. Also, destroying the Memory Unit. Talk about huge character development for Cabooses character. (It’s also possible that this was what Church asked Caboose to do when he was whispering to him in the ship? I need to go back and rewatch it)

Simmons: I know there was already an image or video around showing Simmons with the robotic arm, but I kind of fell off the RvB bus after Zero came out so I missed a bit of content that was floating around on the internet. So me and @yourscientistfriend were tickled pink when we noticed his arm for the first time. It’s small, but nice to know that RT remembered that specific detail about Simmons.

Sarge’s Sacrifice: alright, this one is probably on a lot of peoples Con’s lists but I personally feel like, if any of them were gonna be killed off Sarge was the best because; he died doing what he loved. Fighting. He protected his boys and went down on his own terms. His farewell to Grif definitely hit the hardest. I think deep down we all knew Sarge cared about Grif, but actually hearing him say it was so satisfying.

Memory is the key: the boys sitting around the campfire reminiscing about everything they had been through together in the last 23 years was such a bitter sweet nostalgia blast. The fact that they also got BNL to do a song over it was kind of a nice surprise too.

THE CONS

A lot of characters didn’t really get a chance to shine. It mainly focused on Simmons, Grif, Tucker and Caboose for a majority of the movie. Donut was only there in a thought bubble for a gag, Carolina didn’t even show up till the very end, and Wash didn’t even get to fight, he honestly didn’t really even serve a purpose except to fall off a fucking cliff to get Carolina’s attention and I feel like that wasn’t even necessary. Hell, I think they even forgot about Lopez after that one scene at the beginning. I honestly feel for the Donut and Doc fans. They seriously got screwed over.

“Come With Me”: So. Grimmons didn’t become canon. I am, severely disappointed as I’m sure a majority of the fandom is. I wasn’t expecting a kiss or a make-out section or anything that extreme. But I feel after all these years of teasing us they could have given us SOMETHING.

Tucker Trauma: As I said in the Pro’s, I loved the set up they did with Tucker and the fragments. However, what I didn’t like was how they didn’t address the trauma Tucker went through with them controlling him. They forced him to kill innocent people, attack his friends and mentally tortured him in order to get him to cooperate or wear him down enough to take control. But after they remove the fragments, he’s just ok now? Back to his regular bow chika bow wow self? Don’t get me wrong, like with many of my other cons I realize that a lot of things had to be scrapped or cut because of time and that because Season 19 had to be turned into a movie instead of a full blown season they couldn’t properly address a lot that they probably wanted to. But I wish we could have at least got something along the lines of Wash taking Tucker back with him to get physically and mentally checked out.

Also, wtf is up with Grif just up and leaving. I know Season 15-17 was retconned (update: they weren’t retconned) but damn man, Grif really doesn’t care about any of them? Even after the whole reminiscing scene? It just feels out of character for him. I feel like after everything was said and done he would have taken those papers and shot them or something. Said something about how someone’s gotta give the new leader of the reds a hard time, said something about not leaving till he figure out why they were there!?  Anything than whatever the hell that was.

Thing’s I’m sad will never happen now that Red vs Blue is officially over:

More time with Locus’s character as well as character development and redemption (as well as possibly becoming one of the Reds and Blues)

Grimmons

Simmons’s getting an arc that better fleshes out his character and would give us more background into his history (I mean come on. From the bits and pieces we got over the seasons, it’s very clear Simmons’s had a shitty past. Yes, I’m still mad that his labyrinth was turned into a alien probing joke)

Never seeing an actual conclusion to the fight at the end of Season 13. (I get they wanted to let the fans play around with ideas on what happened but it still bugs me).

Wash and Simmons bonding during a knife training session

Wash and Tucker bonding over AI Trauma

Tucker and Junior bonding

Overall, it was an ending. And probably the most decent one we could have gotten considering everything that was going on. A lot of other shows didn’t even get that. So I honestly can’t complain too much. They also deliberately left the ending pretty open so the fandom could easily write their own ending if they wanted to which is awesome of them.  

[forgottendolly]

Since we finally have a (mostly) clear audio recording of a full Play To Win (replacement What The World Needs) from 2015, here are the lyrics! Corrections and help with the missing gaps welcome!

Daddy says:

“Oh daughter dear, you fill filled my heart with pride. Your words so pure, you’re (rather?) strong, The truth was by your side.”

Oh daddy dear,

They’ve cleaned my clock,

A zillion points, to none.

May I use the phone?

“Oh, pumpkin, you need to speak to one of your friends?”

No, im calling mom!

So I called mom and I told her the whole story!

“You did what?”

I spoke from my heart about the facts,

“incentive, if you do well at this debate, You can come live with me (me, me, me…)”

(Plot point!)

“Get the pen!”

And she told me something that goes a little something like,

It goes a little something like… this!

The art to win an argument,

Ain’t change much over time.

You read and rule your conflict first,

And then you change their mind.

If the judge looks like a hippie?

Your foe’s a right-wing nut!

If the judge seems like a holy hostile penecostal?

Then your foes a godless hedonistic slut!

???

Demonize your opponents,

with personal attacks.

Quote some fake authorities,

and unrelated facts!

Create a false dilema like ‘you’re with us or you ain’t!’

Ask the class a loaded question!

‘How can you say that Adolf Hitler was a saint?’

Oh, the tale of human history is ??? (Warranted ???)

(It works on a mob every time!)

This candy coated recipe,

A black and white morality.

(That’s how we like our slime! Mhh Mhh!)

The next day, at the school debate,

My moms advice applied.

We were like marine corps Stealing cookies from girl guides

The judge gave us a standing o’

“One kid broke down and cried.”

“And the winner of Uranium city debate, Miss”Rosenburg!

And that other girl!”

Yeah we won by a freakin landslide!

Look, I even got a trophy

“We got a trophy?”

Yeah, don’t touch it, you’ll break it.

“Sorry.”

In this world there’s just one sin,

Don’t play the game unless you play to win!

(You play to win!)

Why does my opposition feel the need to defend pedophiles?

(You play to win!)

And the winner is only, Miss Rosenberg!

(You play to win!)

I’m very upset, my brother just died!

“You don’t have a brother-“

Shut up!

(You play to win!)

(And we heard it here first folks ???)

Don’t tell me there’s a better use of your ambition,

Then to wipe the floor with all your competition!

Mommy dearest said there’s only one real mission!

Play to win!

Play to win!

Play to win!

Dad was there and so was mom,

for the national debate.

But where were my opponents?

They were half an hour late!

And then this kid rolls in with a wheelchair,

And begs us to forgive!

“He needed an emergency blood transfusion,

Turns out he only had three weeks left to live!”

“Debate topic:

‘Are human beings ultimately good?’”

(You play to win!)

Are you kidding me? He’s in a wheelchair.

(You play to win!)

“How are you gonna beat this guy, Ocean?”

Shut up, Constance.

“Okay.”

(You play to win!)

What would Glenn Beck do?

(You play to win!)

Aw, and he’s blind too?

“And the opposition calls, miss Rosenberg!”

My heart began to flutter,

Tears welled in my eyes,

When I looked onto my father,

As he hung his head, and sighed.

And then I saw an Angel,

In blinding lights and sparks

With a hammer and a sickle.

It was a winged Karl Marx.

And he said:

‘Child, heaven is awesome!

And everything is free,

I’ve been palling round with Jesus.

Turns out, he’s a communist.

Just like me.’

And we got something to tell you!

(Tell us Comrade!)

And we got something to say to you!

(Say it Comrade!)

Do you wanna hear it?

(Yes!)

Let me feel that Spirit!

(Yeah!)

Can I hear it two times?

(Yeah! Yeah!)

Heh.

Let’s do this!

When you wrestle with poop

(Win or lose!)

Oh, listen to me child!

(Singing blues!)

It’s gonna get on your shoe

It’s gonna be defiled!

(Gon’ be defiled!)

When the game is over!

You’re knocking on heaven’s door!

It’s only your soul, and your soul alone, that’s keeping score

You wanna kick out the crutches from a 😕?

Push an old lady down the stairs!

Steal a piece of candy from a crying little baby?

As long as you’re winning, who cares?

Take out a kid in a wheelchair,

That’s the road to perdition.

Soon you’re gonna wind up a backstabbing,

ass grabbing,

Rubberneck politician.

When you wrestle with poop

(Win or lose!)

Oh listen to me, child!

(Singing blues!)

It’s gonna get on your shoe

(Win or lose)

It’s gonna be defiled!

(Gon’ be defiled!)

And when the game is over,

You’re knocking on Heavens door,

It’s only your soul, and your soul alone, that’s keeping score.

I said it’s only your soul alone,

That’s keeping score!

Oh yeah!

(Win or lose!)

Oh listen to me, Child!

(Singing blues!)

It’s gonna get on your shoe

(Win or lose)

It’s gonna be defiled!

(Gon’ be defiled!)

And when the game is over,

You’re knocking on Heavens door,

It’s your soul, your soul alone, that’s keeping score.

When you wrestle with poop

(Win or lose!)

Oh listen to me, child!

(Singing blues!)

It’s gonna get on your shoe

(Win or lose!)

It’s gonna be defiled!

(Gon’ be defiled!)

And when the game is over,

You’re knocking on Heavens door,

It’s your soul, your soul alone, that’s keeping score.

Who’s keeping score?

(Who’s keeping score?)

Who’s keeping score?

(Who’s keeping score?)

Who’s keeping score?

(Who’s keeping score?)

Who’s keeping score?

(Who’s keeping score?)

Who’s keeping score?

(Who’s keeping score?)

It’s only your soul, your soul alone, that’s keeping score!

[morg-among-the-stars]

For as much as I pride myself in being a writer and a theatre kid, a huge part of me is being into gaming. I have used games such as Minecraft, Undertale, The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, Detroit: Become Human and so many more to help me get through the loneliness and hardest times of my life, long before I had media such as theatre to do that.

I discovered the Theorists channels in late 2015/early 2016, in that transitional time between elementary and middle school. The first Game Theory I ever watched was “Game Theory: FNAF 2, Gaming's Scariest Story SOLVED!”, which not only introduced me to the Five Night’s at Freddy’s franchise, it introduced me to tangential learning: the concept of learning through media that a person already enjoys, as well as picking up on small details or background information to answer questions.

This is what I do with the fandoms I’m “known for” on here and any other internet space!

Picking up on small details and drawing conclusions are things I’ve done to create all the fics I’ve made for Dear Evan Hansen and The Politician within the last few years, how I’ve been able to understand character motivations and drives through tiny details that some people might miss.

With that, I also love to learn. Any one who knows me, knows that I “learn to love better”, so to speak. I research problems to try and fix them, and research vastly different things such as mental health issues to better understand them and educate myself for the loved ones in my life who have various struggles.

MatPat and the entire Theorist crew created channels and a space that encourages learning through means of fun things such as video games and shows, even branching out to food and style with recent channels.

It also, more importantly, created a space where weirdness could be encouraged, where nerds and geeks were welcomed with open arms, and where a community was fostered of unique and immensely intelligent and creative people.

And that, a space to belong as a person generally on the outside of every group at that young age of being ten or eleven, is something I needed. Something that I was able to grow with. I was a proud theorist through middle and high school, and even now to this day. I haven’t been a loyal theorist since the beginning, but I’ve been one for a long enough time to say it changed my life in so many ways.

It inspired me to create my own theories and express them to people and, even if they don’t always make sense/come across as self-indulgent or weird, to never stop learning and expanding my mind.

People often need a place to belong and to feel accepted in all their quirks and oddities, and MatPat and everyone at Team Theorist managed to do that beautifully for thirteen years.

These people and their theories helped me through the hardest times and gave me comfort when not much else did.

And for that, I, as well as many others, I’m sure, give a big thank you and a huge, community-wide group huge.

I’ll forever be a loyal theorist.

But hey, that’s just a theory. A game theory!

💚❤️💛💙

[gladiatorcunt]

Didn’t know you were a kpop fan babe 😧 Kinda not surprised, but still… Your faves?

“kinda not surprised” erm

(i got into it like around 2015 and i typically go for 3rd gen to earlier when it comes to music, also i don’t interact with any fandoms on social media anymore since i’ve gotten older (and i don’t rlly keep up with the idols themselves) beyond what edits i see or what gets so popular i have to see it on my fyp)

red velvet (my girlies)

loona (haseul could’ve been the baekhyun of loona if they used her properly beyond 1 line)

exo (masterclass in discography and actually being a capital i idol but also mess and mismanagement, arguably a big part of some of their issues is the tension between sk and china, etc.)

vixx (still a fair bit underrated imo when you consider how long they’ve been active, their vocal ability, being known for their concepts, like ughhhhh leo is one of the only idols who i will be like ‘that’s my husband and we have 6 kids <3’ about)

monsta x (very solid discography, talented, rappers that genuinely have something which there a lot of rappers in kpop groups just bc they’re trying to get appeal, still mildly irritated over the wonho thing bc the way companies deal with stuff like that when the idol is innocent is just so annoying. queen is one of the best bsides in kpop history.)

ramble under the cut

honorary shinee (jonghyun is my golden standard male vocalist), boa, snsd, sunmi, btob mentions

unfortunately jay park is cute and i do like mommae, dean’s like one album he did (i didn’t listen to the other one if that even was a full second album), i used to fw hyuna but she’s pissed me the fuck off

fave time out jail ig: bts (just really grew out of being into them ig since boy with luv came out, some of their tiktok fanbase proudly bullying people and how i feel about the quality of their music now (missing house of cards type quality) + the western validation debate + being on tumblr when people made jungkook’s whole personality at 19 yrs old being goo goo ga ga over banana milk and having a noona kink)), nct (the t*eil thing, but imo if people like that want to hide then they will so i think at least some of the members didn’t know, i don’t keep up with that so i’m not sure if any other info has since come out. i believe he did it with how things are rn and as a csa survivor i just feel a bit gross with being overly supportive of them)

and then there is the can of worms that is the group named after colors (another case where imo they were better earlier on, playing with fire >>>>)

i don’t really have any 4th gen faves, i love ateez and i like some stray title tracks (as in random not stray kids lmao) & bsides from groups here and there

i have mixed feelings about 4-5th gen (imo music is not the focus so much as international reach and social media presence), riize (wonbin is so fine though like sm employs pretty boy idols and refuses to manage them properly) and new jeans (i really wished i liked their music because literally everyone else does), ive’s title tracks are pretty solid (i don’t know anything about their bsides), le sserafim is ehhhhhhhh (i think i literally only like anti fragile + they do need to improve technically for me), enhyphen (i will say is the closet to being a fave for me because i eat up their obsessive songs that are apparently about their webtoon???????? and that one jyp cover (i assume bc he was there) bangs, also again they’re fine 😖)

for the life of me i can’t fully commit to aespa but their concept is cool (and the lore should stick to them and not be attached to every sm group imo)

talking about the songs i like & listen to regularly/industry opinions is a different discussion (that i dipped into too much here) i fear so i’ll shut up!!! i could probably get back into it if a company debuted a group and was like ‘안녕하세요! we are D.I.L.F!’ and the members are all at least in their mid 40’s and they groan when they try to bow

[la0hu]

skz ate first impressions

Mountains

something extremely 2015 about this beat… something very NEFFEX/imagine dragons adjacent… i think it’s objectively maybe terrible but i also actually have two entire spotify playlists dedicated to this genre of music bc i love it. league of legends AMV music. 6/10

Chk Chk Boom

dude these tones are so different from what they normally do??? changbin, jeongin, seungmin, chan? all in a row?

wait hold on this bumps... actually. guys i think it bumps?

not the la vida loca lmao

the best parts are the verses but they’re excellent. chorus is okay; i’m guessing the choreo will make up for it. i hate how short the song is though. 7.5/10 (btw SO much better than lalalala)

JJAM

oh fuck yeah. this is what i signed up for. same table as ITEM and DOMINO just from the opening beat. prechorus is boring though.

GOTdamn! lol the chorus is so silly i love it… all the food references are reminding me of Cheese

my synesthesia is really confused right now. i worry this song isn’t super cohesive and it’ll be forgotten in the archives (e.g. get lit, top line). or maybe it’s gonna be a certified hit. it’s walking that line… i like the half-assed EDM breakdown in the bridge! 9/10*

I Like it

snoreeeeee. this song sucks lol. 2/10*

(it reminds me too much of Charlie Puth or contemporary Jungkook. i hate the pop elements. they should’ve leaned into the drill more, or done Hanpop, or whatever they did with Ex or Chill or Mixtape: OH or literally any other type of pop. i thought it was super fun and sexy they wrote a song about flings but they fumbled the production here)

Runners

i am getting the cyberpunk vibes chan was talking about, it’s nice i guess. wait no the chorus is bad. they should’ve made it actually edgy, not this inspirational major key schlock.

rare case of me disliking felix’s verse

it’s giving Blind Spot, which i didn’t like for similar reasons. the song isn’t done yet but i’m already sure it’s a 4/10

twilight

it’s alright i guess? never been a ballad girl. i think i liked Cover Me more. 4/10

Stray Kids

it’s my kryptonite… drum and bass with felix’s higher register… beautiful angel

to be completely honest i cannot rate this song objectively. despite all the cynicism and harsh reviews i give them, i’m still a stay and i feel so sentimental at the chorus i can’t think past that lol. maybe the beat is boring but does it matter? it’s a tribute song. they say “hellevator” and i’m already sold. 8/10

Chk Chk Boom festival ver.

STOP IT! YOU ARE NOT LE SSERAFIM!!!!! NOR NEWJEANS!!

wait hold on. i didn’t hear this choral instrumental. actually this is good lol you could totally play this at a festival! i thought it was just a sped-up version but now i’ve completely changed my mind; this is extremely valid. still don’t love the sped-up verses but i love DJ VXNILLX. 7/10

some final notes: i was trapped on the I-90 after work today and blasted the album the entire time, and upon further reflection, JJAM is cohesive and is thus a certified hit, and although i still think I Like It is still kind of bad, i also think it's catchy and i like the despicability of the lyrics.

unfortunately i do think this album is just another variation on a theme that was established with Rock-star, where it's a mini album with one title track, one JJAM/ITEM/COMFLEX, one I Like It / Blind Spot / Leave, one ballad, one Megaverse/Mountains to start off the tracklist (they're literally the same song actually), and a couple semi sentimental tracks to close out the album (compare Runners to Social Path to Stray Kids the song). it's a formula and it's not completely divorced from what they did with Maxident for example, but their sound isn't really changing much since 5-star dropped. i miss the whiplash i got when they went from Oddinary to Maxident. and as much as i do actually like Chk Chk Boom, it feels like they're definitely trying to make something to market, and the sub-three minute duration makes the song suffer for it

[aei9athy]

Aeternum vale

| navigation | a/n: saw a prompt like this on twitter and I love angst so I created this. First time posting on here so please be kind ❤️ | warnings: angst, slight and I mean a sliver of alcoholism, non canonical character death | cross posted on ao3 | tags 🏷️ : @thethreeeyed-raven |

June 13th 2014

It’s been a year since Ada left him, again. It was something Leon had become somewhat numb too. Her being there with him was never in the cards. He tries and tries and tries and somehow fate somehow separates them. He wished he had taken Helena’s advice and had gone after her, he wished he could have held her or kissed her before she ran away again. He felt like a damn fool. She could be dead for all he knows, rotting in the ground or maybe scattered ashes. No. Fate wasn’t kind enough for that, knowing their luck she would be made into a BOW, ready to be sold to the first greedy bastard who laid eyes on her.

Leon shakes his head. No, she’s too strong to die, to be turned into one of those things. His foot bounces on the ground. Why was he so tense all of a sudden? He knows she’s capable of living alone so why was he so worried? Maybe it’s time for a call, it wouldn’t hurt right?

He takes his phone from his pocket and slowly dials the number but for some reason cannot press the call button. She doesn’t need him anymore, just like always she’ll come when or if she needs something. However those words that Helena said are still gnawing at the back of his mind. “She’s more than just a friend isn’t she?” Those words are on a deafening loop in his mind 24/7. Were they ever really friends? He could never think of a word to describe their relationship but that’s how he liked it. Putting the phone back in his pocket he decided to wait, she’d call when she’s ready.

That call never came. A week went by, nothing. A week turned to a month to somehow a whole year. He tried shaking off the ominous feeling he felt in his chest every time he looked at the makeup compact on his dresser. It was fine though, once it was a six year gap! Leon had said to himself at least a dozen times each day to keep himself sane.

At long last on June 13th 2015 he called her.

“Unfortunately I’m unavailable at the moment please leave a message!”

It was her voice! It took Leon a few seconds to realise it was a pre recorded message. Quickly he spoke, stumbling over his own words. “Hey Ada! It’s been a while huh? Listen I know you’re probably really busy but I’d like to see you again or even just a call. I need to know you’re alive, talk later…Hun.” The last word hurt more to say than he thought. It was a nickname the two had grown accustomed to throughout the years.

Once again he was waiting and waiting until a month later his mobile rang in his back pocket. “Ada! Are you there? I’ve missed you so much, please tell me you’re alright.” His words come out liked alphabet spaghetti but instead of his lovers voice there was a deeper voice, one Leon could not recognise. “You must be mr Leon Kennedy? I’m sorry but Miss Wong has been dead for over a year now. She died on June 13th 2014.” Before Leon could even comprehend what had been said to him the phone went dead and only the beeping of the hung up phone could be heard.

Time stopped, grief swallowed him up more than any BOW had done before. A hot white pain stung in his chest, it was like his heart had been ripped out and stitched back in by a butcher. However tears did not come, he just sat there, looking at that damned makeup compact. He would never be able to give it back to her. He would never see her again. Helena was right he should have gone to her, he should’ve kissed her and told her how much he loved her and…!

His brain stopped processing, overheating from the guilt and regret of never being able to tell her how he really felt.

“I love you.”

A single tear fell down his cheek.

Months go by and guilt is still lingering over him. His nightmares become worse and so does his drinking. Everyday he would call her number, hear her voice on the answer machine and then whisper sweet nothings into the phone.

He was sent the address of the place where she was buried. She wanted to be cremated. Even in death she never got what she wanted. He decided to see her, take the compact and try to find some sort of solace or peace from this overwhelming regret.

There it was, alone just like she was. Beautiful, just like she was. The compact was tight in his hand, he also decided to bring along the teddy keychain she had given him a decade ago.

“Hey Ada.”

He says nothing and places the compact on the headstone. Somehow he felt lighter, no words needed. He sits there reminiscing for hours but still says nothing. Finally he gets up and whispers one thing to the grave and leaves.

“I love you.”

[ourpickwickclub]

I sent in a version of this a few days ago but it might have been to mean. How did you girls all become friends? I want to make some shefani friends, but everyone I’ve tried reaching out to and get to know on Twitter haven’t been the nicest or very welcoming.

I didn’t see the earlier ask. I’m sorry people haven’t been all that welcoming. I think most everyone has experienced that sort of thing at some point and it’s not fun.

Our story is sort of interesting. We were all on Twitter but hadn’t interacted. Periscope existed then… talking late 2015/ early 2016 timeframe… and we were all watching Gwen and Blake on Periscope anytime they had a show.

So, we would kept seeing each other’s names. A and I would always comment the same thing at the same time. Over and over. L and M and J all made me laugh. J made one of the funniest comments ever at MLs expense (I mean, I laughed for days anytime I thought of it and I’m laughing now thinking of it) and I knew she was my people. L and M both made such good observations and were hilarious and both funny in different ways. A was deadpan and the fashion and makeup expert.

I was actually at a concert in person and missed a Blake show on Periscope where something happened, I can’t remember what. But I reached out to M via DM (she always seemed so nice) and she filled me in. We started talking here and there and one day we decided we should see if L wanted to join. M and I had talked about bringing A and J into the group also. We didn’t tell L that but asked if her if there was anyone else she would want to have join our group chat and she said A and J’s usernames. How weird is that? Out of everyone commenting on Periscope, she named the only other two people M and I had talked about adding.

We added them and J, who never has been super active on the blog but is so hilarious, came right in when she got the request and said, oooooooh, what is this???? A didn’t see the request for a day or so, but joined when she did so casually. She just sauntered in one day, and started talking. No questions. A is so dryly matter of fact. It all just worked. We started planning an in person meet up almost right away.

I actually set up the blog because I needed to set one up for work and it was practice. We were all following the other Shefani blogs. J added our pics/theme. No one noticed us for a while. I truly believe the BARFs were the majority of our first followers. They lived to send in mean asks and pose as concerned Blake fans. We almost quit. It was tough because so many of the asks we got were negative. Any bad comment we made about ML triggered a lot of inbox pushback, which was a clue. But that made others send asks setting them straight. The same 5 BARFs sent tons of asks. Then, of course, we had Jigsaw. Has anyone been around long enough to remember Jigsaw? Creepy. We also did a lot of chart tracking back then.

It’s been a while since we talked about this, but we decided to sign with initials we ended up picking initials from Little Women characters. That’s how it became the pickwick blog. We’ve now met up a bunch of times with another meetup on the books soon. So excited!

Hope that clarifies. Still laughing thinking about it all that has transpired and the comments.

- B

[thisaintascenereviews]

Twenty One Pilots - Clancy

After the rise and subsequent fall of emo from the mainstream by the early 2010s, there weren’t many bands that came to replace these bands, or complement them. A few of the “neon” bands were popular, but nothing that stuck around. The closest band that became a poster child for the new wave of emo, at least to kids who grew up after I did in the late 00s and early 2010s was Twenty One Pilots. These guys have been around for the last 15 years, but they didn’t really blow up until 2013’s Vessel. They weren’t household names yet, but they quickly got a cult following in the emo scene. That solidified with 2015’s Blurryface, where the band blew up in the mainstream, and they’ve been a pop band ever since. Their albums have had diminishing returns since 2018, and I’m not sure if people even care about them as much as people once did a decade ago, but their new album, Clancy, is upon us.

Before I talk about it, how do I feel about this band? I’ve got mixed feelings on this band, because their early albums are unique, and interesting for the time, but I don’t think they’ve aged well. I used to find their brand of pop meets alternative meets rap kind of endearing, but now I find it cringing. TOP is the kind of rap white people say they listen to, and/or white people say they don’t listen to rap but they like TOP. I just haven’t cared about these guys in years, but something told me to check out Clancy. I don’t know why, maybe it was because this week was a bit slow for new releases, but I was curious about it. I didn’t know what to expect, but I guess I shouldn’t be surprised they came through with one of the worst albums of the year.

Okay, that’s pushing it, but this album isn’t good. I really did not like this album, whether it was for its sound that does so much and so little at the same time, vocalist Tyler Joseph sounding the worst he ever has, or its pretty bad lyrics that attempt to explain some “lore” for the band, but I don’t get any of that. This album is just a mess all around, but its sound is the biggest culprit. This album has some slightly interesting moments here and there, but for the most part, this record is so bland and uninspired, it hurts. The interesting moments are buried beneath the generic sounds that they emphasize, and Joseph barely raps on this album, which you think I’d like a lot because I always found his rapping cringy, but I actually miss it here. At least his rapped vocals were interesting. His clean singing isn’t very good, and he just has one tone that he uses throughout the album.

Speaking of which, boy, is this album a slog. It’s 47 minutes, and I could not wait for it to end. That’s never a good sign, but they strangely did so little yet so much, and in that result, the album falls short. I wish I liked it more, because I haven’t really listened to these guys since 2015, and that was almost a decade ago, so I’m a lot older now and have a different look on music (as well as a somewhat different taste), but this album just didn’t work for me. I figured this band would have gotten better with time, but if this album is any indication, they’ve only gotten worse and more forgettable. I’m sure they have their fans still, but there’s a reason you don’t hear them in the mainstream anymore. I didn’t want to say that about this record, but man, this album is one of the worst of the year.

[discodeviant]

HARRINGROVE WEEK, DAY 5: Fifty | Teen | <1k

Lesley Gore Passing the Crown: Alpha/Beta/Omega (very mild)

SURPRISE: The Break Room at the Hawkins Police Station

How Many Candles on the Birthday Cake: 50 years old

Flavor Combos: Detective AU & Last Chances

Specific Dialogue: “Spit on me.”

Okay, this one's kind of an oddball lmao. Long story short, the idea ended up far more complex than I intended, and I'd like to turn this into a longer, more thought-out fic eventually, but no promises. So. idk take that as you will xD ANYWAY please enjoy, we will be back with our regularly scheduled lovebird program tomorrow &lt;3

Read on AO3 @harringroveweek

2015.

“That’s a myth.”

Sitting in a room with Billy Hargrove had been miserable since the day they were introduced. He walked like an alpha, talked like an alpha, smelled like a goddamn alpha pissed all over his pressed and fitted suits. It made Steve sick. It made him sweat. It made him wonder why Billy tried so hard when it should have been easy for him anyway. He’d walked in like it was his case, like Steve didn’t have good reason to have had it for so many months by himself.

“You know what your problem is, Harrington?” Even his voice was intimidating when it was low and deeply focused, fingers running along words on a page that Steve had read over and over and over again and reached the same conclusions from. “You think you’re a fucking hotshot.” He looked up then, met Steve’s gaze, didn’t back down for a second because he was the alpha. Not Steve. Never Steve, though it was in his DNA; he’d just never been enough. “You think solving a couple of closed cases means you’re the smartest motherfucker around. But you can’t even sit here and consider that he might still be alive.”

They stood across from each other, each too proud to sit down. Coffees in hand, they were still going over the case as Steve had it—which, according to Billy Hargrove, was all wrong. He couldn’t catch a damn break. “Creel died in oh-three.”

“No, he went missing in oh-three and left unidentifiable human remains behind as an alibi so he wouldn’t be imprisoned for killing another teenage girl.” Billy spoke slowly, like he thought Steve was slow. Too dumb to get it, and maybe he was.

“Then why would he come back?” And Steve spoke just as slowly because Billy didn’t get it either.

“It’s the cycle. I’ve told you that. There’s records of this guy dating back to the seventeen-fucking-sixties, because he never died.”

“And I’ve told you, that’s a myth! What fucking records are there, Hargrove! Huh? You think we’ve just got that shit lying around in case he decides to play his fucking game again?” Steve’s face was red-hot and burning like embers that had yet to be reignited. He’d pushed himself off of the wall and into Billy’s space, radiating the same pride that had been shot down so much already. “The guy’s not three-hundred years old! If anything, it’s Carver playing copycat—“

“Do you have any idea how rare the Creel cases are for some fucking kid to have heard about them in the first place?”

“Rare enough for you to think you’re hot shit for coming in on my case like I haven’t been doing this for thirty goddamn years!”

“Spit on me again, Harrington, I fucking dare you.”

They were up in each other’s faces now, closer than they’d ever been, closer than when they shook hands to show Hopper they were companionable. Steve never wanted the chance to see him this close up, every moustache hair and pore on his nose, freckles in all of their asymmetry and differing shades. He felt the sweat dripping down his neck, next to his ears and into his suit. It was all in his face, the heat from outside and their partners' quarrel. His lips were wet from the coffee and rage he didn’t force himself to reel in this time, and Billy’s taunting him was the last straw.

So he did as he was told, just like Billy wanted him to do. Clearly, otherwise he wouldn’t have said something so foul, so comically unprofessional. He gathered enough saliva on the scoop of his tongue to shoot out like a bullet right at Billy’s nose and the corner of his eye. It bubbled with the same anger Steve had inside him, and he wished it was scalding like his anger too. And maybe Billy didn’t back away, but he closed his eyes, licked his lips, and wiped Steve’s spit away with his index finger.

And then he looked up with cruel, challenging eyes and returned it to its rightful home inside of his own mouth. A long, slow, tedious lick, savoring it for something he may have only gotten once. Steve had been reduced to silence, to the same failure he’d always been. He needed looser pants. He needed to get away from Billy Hargrove, who scoffed right there in his face. “Now it smells like real alpha in here, doesn’t it?” he said. Steve couldn’t look him in the eye anymore. “Stinks like rut.”

Then Steve knew he was bluffing because he’d been on suppressants since he was a kid. Doses raised every few years even when he was out of his parents’ house, away from people who didn’t want him acting like a goddamn hotshot. He didn’t rut. He couldn’t rut. He sucked in a breath and said like a demand, “What the fuck are you talking about.”

Billy smiled. “You know.” Gathered his bag and the few things on the table that were his and said, “Call me sometime. You’ll feel better.”

[deijiyong]

Navigation: Next Part | Story Masterlist | Masterlist

2015 December 21st - Day One 1/2

It’s 4 AM when your phone goes off

You shoot up to shut off the alarm, eyes falling to Changkyun who barely moves on his spot on the floor

You rush to the showers to get clean; hoping to get rid of the smell of beer

Just as quickly you get dressed, grab your things and go to class

You don’t have much time to think of Changkyun when your first class professor has no care for someone who booked their class and refuses to show up on time

Anything you missed, you would have to figure out on your own

Thankfully, you’re in your seat before the professor even gets in the room

You shoot Changkyun a message

I’m in class, I have a 2 hour break after 10 AM - see you then?

Your mind races as your professor walks in, so you send one more text

Please stay out of trouble

It’s a few minutes after 10 when you make it back to your dorm

The look Mrs. Kim gave you on the way in lets you know she’s not impressed

You make a note to give her a token of thanks before the week is up

Changkyun is lounging on your bed when you make it into your room

He’s dressed in layers today

Babe, you’re back

We have to go

I planned my break at this time since no one is usually in the dorm right now

I think Mrs. Kim will kick me from the dorm if I don’t get you out soon

He laughs, but he moves to gather his things, pulling on his shoes and jacket before wrapping his coat around his body and zipping it up

Changkyun thanks Mrs. Kim once more as you leave the dorm

You sigh in relief once you’re outside, happy that you hadn’t gotten caught

Kyun wraps his arm over your shoulders as you both make your way off campus

How were your morning classes?

This isn’t your lunchtime, right?

I’ll pay for something 

I’m hungry too

Hotel first

You’re almost off-campus when you see Taeyong

He’s sitting with some friends outside of the cafeteria; sandwich in his hands

His mouth drops open when he sees you and belatedly Changkyun

You just turn away, not wanting to figure out what he’s thinking

Changkyun pulls you closer, your face almost in his chest 

I think he just pissed himself, babe

(you push him off you) No, he didn’t

Did you see his face?

I think he thought he dreamed of seeing me last night

You debate looking back at Taeyong, but ultimately decided against it

Changkyun convinces you to get lunch first

You find a hot pot place; getting lost in catching up with your best friend

So how has school been going?

(looks up at you while moving the vegetables around over his rice) uhm, (looks back down) not so well

Jooheon and I haven’t really been as close as we used to

He’s prioritizing Jiyeon and school over me

I’m having a hard time focusing on my work

I know this is my fault

Why were you having trouble focusing?

(looks up at you again) I missed you

There was so much I had wanted to say at my graduation party 

But then you didn’t show up and I’ve felt regret over not coming to find you that night to tell you anyways

(placing your head on your hand) tell me what?

Huh?

(shoves food in his mouth) nothing

Kyun,,,

No, really, it’s nothing

If you say so

Changkyun dodges every attempt you have at bringing up the conversation during lunch while looking for a hotel that is close to your university

A hotel finally presents itself a short subway ride from the university

It’s run down, dirty, and potentially infested - but, it’s cheap

You stand hesitantly in the doorway watching as Changkyun places his stuff in the room

Are you sure you want to stay here?

Even a pc room is better than this place

It’s fine, I’m sure it will be fine

(you frown) you cannot be serious

(he grins, hands on his waist as he watches you) 

Are you going to protect me?

(you glance at your watch) I have to get back for my next class

Stay out of trouble

YN don’t leave me!

I don’t have time for this, you’re too far from campus

(pouts) Don’t go

I have class

(turns to leave) come find me at 7 PM

[wonwooslibrary]

wonwooslibrary has hit a milestone!

Dear Readers, Fellow Writers, Mutuals, Members of Caratblr, and anyone else who may stumble upon this, 

Wonwooslibrary has hit a milestone I never expected to reach, and I would like to celebrate it with you all, by sharing a probably-too-in-depth story: Why did I create my blog? Well, let’s begin! (I’ve been watching a bit too much of How I Met Your Mother recently lmao)

Back in about 2015, I read the first book I truly fell in love with: Percy Jackson and the Lightning Thief by Rick Riordan. This novel is what developed my love for reading and English, later becoming something that would completely take over my life, and my future career. From becoming a member of the PJO fandom, I began venturing so far into the internet that I became a “fandom stan”...that name still haunts me. Since 2015, I have been reading and writing...and reading more and writing more. Of course, the beginning was horribly written sentences with no commas, like the word version of drawing the sun in the corner of the page. I began writing fanfiction in 2015, too. Naturally, it started with Percy Jackson, then Harry Potter, oh and of course 5 Seconds of Summer and One Direction (I’ve always been more of a music-based fanfic writer!) But 2020...that year really changed it all. 

In 2020, I found something that really changed my life. Caratblr. The Seventeen and Carat side of Tumblr, an app I thought everyone except me stopped using in 2016. At this particular point in time, I honestly was just looking for a very specific gif of Junhui from Seventeen (center Jun from the DWC mv in the rooftop scene lmao). Thanks to this gif, something amazing happened: I found the wonderful creators associated with caratblr here on Tumblr. 

At this time, I was not writing on Tumblr. In fact, the account I was using is hopefully hidden in the depths of the internet, because I really never want to look at it again. Using this Tumblr, I found some of the most inspiring people (and their content). These amazing people inspired me to create what is now one of the most cherished things in my life: 

wonwooslibrary. 

I made this blog at 8:29pm on December 23rd, 2020, EST. My first fic, a horribly written Joshua fanfic that I will NEVER read again, currently has 35 notes. I am not going to lie, I only posted that fanfic because of one thing: caratwritersclub’s open member applications. Freshly 16-year-old me was desperate to do something with the one thing I actually enjoyed doing. So, I wrote that Joshua fic. I posted it ONLY to be able to become a member of caratwritersclub. And on January 8th, 2021, I was officially a member of caratwritersclub. Here, I met these aforementioned amazing people within caratblr, and I would love to say a couple of things to them right now. 

@gallivantingheart ♡ taylor. oh my god. you are literally my best friend. i could not ask for anyone better than you. from everything we have in common: our biases, our favorite colors, our sun, moon and rising signs, our love for miraculous and stationary. i love having a friend that is on the complete other side of the word (rip 14/15 hour time differences) but still loves to talk and yell about every small detail in our lives, whether it is a bit too personal or not. you have been such an inspiration to me, and i love you so damn much. i am proud of you for everything you have done. ps. i miss your cats xx they’re cute. 

@seokmingiggles ♡ lannie!!!!! i don’t even know where to begin. you’ve been here since the VERY beginning and i just. i could sob. we have so many inside jokes and fun memories (like samanter, the popcorn-eating cat emote, the like. 10 hour discord call with ven, or even lawn). the fact that you read Baby, I’ll Be Right There, all the way through, like 4 times??? insane. i am extremely proud of you for everything you have done recently. even though i might not say it a lot, i love you and you’re still one of my best friends, even if we don’t talk nearly as much as we used to. everytime i see seokmin or hobi, i still think of you. even forks make me think of you sometimes (rip fork mf). please, feel free to reach out at any time, and i cannot wait for our next conversation (ps. #lisslansam)

@sansang ♡ liiiiissssaaaaaa <3 I cannot believe how much we have grown!! i know we haven’t talked in literally forever but...you were my first friend not only in cwc, but also on caratblr in general. i owe so much to you. you’ve believed in me and cheered me on so much, i don’t even know where to begin with making you feel as encouraged as you have made me. i love you, and i am so proud of you, especially for making important decisions like deciding to make gifs instead of writing, and i know that you are going to be amazing. the future would not be the same without you in it, and i hope we can talk more :D ps. every time i see jihoon or san, or anything abt swimming, i think of you <3 oh and also wav by ateez :3 it’s still your brand in my heart <333 (also #lisslansam)

There are, of course, a couple others who I am not close to/am not close to anymore who definitely need a huge thank you for everything: ven @heartshxkr ; alexis @woozisnoots ; eun @bermudas ; jo @ahloveisboo ; vic @svtskneecaps ; fel @minghaofilm ; meraki @merakiiverse ...I have no idea what I would do without you all! 

These wonderful people, as well as other readers and creators on this hellsite have made me want to continue my writing journey here. My biggest accomplishment so far, has been the LONG process of writing, rereading, and editing my Jihoon/Woozi fic, Baby, I’ll Be Right There. This fic is almost 11,000 words long. It took me three days to write, and with the help of Lannie (@seokmingiggles), six and a half months to edit. Lannie reread this fic and helped me edit SO MUCH, that this fic is just as much hers and it is mine. (Lannie, if you’re still reading this, I’m a bit too emotional lol I’m tearing up :EUWAH:). It currently has !! 197 !! notes. Writing BIBRT has made me realize that I love writing. No, it’s not what I’m doing as a career (I’m an education student lol), but I want to keep this blog around for as long as possible. 

And with wonwooslibrary, I want to encourage all those writers who are just as young as I was reading fanfics on Wattpad. I repeatedly posted and deleted fics because I thought they weren’t good enough, but here is some advice for you: you write for you. You should write because you enjoy it, not because people make you feel like you have to. Write what you enjoy, what tropes you like. Don't let people tell you what to write, that’s what takes the fun away from it. 

To end this unreasonably long, sappy, over-emotional post, 

Thank you to EVERYONE who has supported me this far. I am excited to take my writing blog to the next steps and continue writing and making friends with the wonderful people in caratblr. 

And for the actual milestone: HAPPY TWO YEARS TO WONWOOSLIBRARY!!! 

Thank you, once again, for everything, lovely readers, fellow writers, mutuals and patrons of caratblr. Thank you. 

Love, 

Your friendly neighborhood huihui, Samantha Jayn (wonwooslibrary)

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

I hit about eight different topics in this post. All related to various comedians. It's been a while since I've done a post in which I just start writing and then let myself go, if one thing I write reminds me of a different thing I'll start writing about that. There's no plan to this post. Adding a cut for people who (justifiably) do not want to go through something even more rambly than usual, for me. I'll say at the outset that there's nothing particularly deep or insightful here.

Just finished listening to the podcast episode to go with the new Taskmaster, and it was quite good. Solid insights from Ivo Graham, as I’d have expected. I missed this podcast, since they stopped putting stuff out every week. I realized I’ve missed hearing Ed Gamble – I do like him enough to enjoy hearing him talk for 45-ish minutes per week, which I learned from the several years he spent doing the Taskmaster podcast with very few weeks off, and I miss it now that it only airs while Taskmaster (UK) is airing.

If only I hadn’t spent years in a sport that forced me to track my weight so meticulously that I am now incapable of seeing food as entertainment, ruling out getting into Off Menu. If only I didn’t have a combination of hypochondria that mainly manifests as fear of developing cancer and/or diabetes, and fear of needles, along with a specific fear that I’ll develop diabetes and then have to have needles for the rest of my life, and the way I manage to go through life instead of being constantly paralyzed with anxiety about this is by avoiding thinking about the existence of those things as much as possible. I can think about if I’m absolutely forced to, but at the very least, I’m unable to derive enjoyment from thinking about them. So Ed Gamble’s stand-up might be great, I don’t know, I haven’t sought it out.

I have a disappointing amount of reasons to avoid listening to his stuff, given how much I enjoy hearing him talk. Maybe I should get into his radio show, I like Matthew Crosby. And every once in a while I think of how the side of Ed Gamble I like least is the way he’s a bit too TV polished sometimes, so clearly the solution to that is to get into the Peacock and Gamble stuff.

Anyway, it was a fun episode. The more I think about it, the more excited I am for Taskmaster season 16. That first episode was so good, one of those things that’s so good I just want to go over and over it, so I enjoyed hearing Ed and Ivo do that.

I remembered today that a few months ago, I was hanging out with my brother, and I told him I’d bought tickets to see Tom Ballard. He didn’t know who Tom Ballard was, I said he’s an Australian comedian, my brother said he didn’t know as much about Australian comedy as he should. Then we both started naming other Australian comedians, to see if we have any knowledge of them in common. He didn’t know any of my names, until I asked him, “Do you know Sam Campbell?” and he said yes. I asked him if he likes Sam’s comedy, and he said that actually he’s never seen Sam’s comedy.

“But you said you know him,” I said. My brother said yeah, from when he lived in Melbourne. I often forget that my brother lived in Melbourne for a year, in about 2015-ish. He also lived in London for a year, around 2011. Did some comedy in both those places. Anyway, he told me that one time when he lived in Melbourne, he was at a party, and one of his comedy friends introduced him to a guy named Sam Campbell. “I haven’t seen him perform, but he was a nice guy,” my brother said. I told him we are working with different definitions of what it means to "know" a comedian.

I think this might be the first time I’ve been two handshakes away from a Taskmaster contestant. I can get three away from plenty of them – I’ve met someone who’s met someone who’s met them. Three away from Mae Martin in plenty of ways, I think, and not even just through my brother, now that I’ve spent some time with other local comedians. A bunch of those local comedians, including my brother, have worked with some of the comedians who were on LOL Canada, a fairly bad… okay less bad than you’d expect given the premise but definitely not great… comedy-based reality show that I watched this summer entirely because it had Mae Martin on it. Mae Martin’s pretty good in that, by the way, for the information of anyone who’d like to know that. By which I mean, if you happen to just really like watching Mae Martin do anything, that is a show on Amazon Prime that features Mae Martin doing some stuff. Mainly trying not to laugh at Tom Green.

 So I can get three away, but I think Sam Campbell is the first Taskmaster contestant my brother, or anyone else I know personally, has actually met. I mean, technically I’ve now met Josie Long and Grace Petrie, and they’ve met lots of Taskmaster contestants. Technically I’ve been one handshake away from a Taskmaster contestant, as Josie Long was an original champion (well, second after Wozniak). But I think in this case, I’m defining “handshake” as working with someone or seeing them socially. It counts if you only worked with or met them once, but it has to be work or social, not just accosting them on the streets of Montreal and asking them to sign a tour poster from over ten years ago.

 Though my meeting with Grace Petrie has turned out to possibly be slightly more significant than I’d thought at the time. I haven’t been able to find my wallet this weekend, and the last time I definitely, 100% had it was when I took it out at the merch table at her concert and gave her money for a CD. I think I remember having it when I got home from the concert, but I can’t be totally sure, and I can’t find it anywhere in the house.

I was an incoherent mess when I met Grace Petrie at her merch table, I remember shaking and stuttering a bit as I spoke to her and trying to remember what I wanted to say, and I definitely don’t remember keeping track of anything. It is absolutely conceivable that my flustered state from meeting Grace Petrie led me to forget to pick up my wallet when I left the table. Again, I don’t think so – I think I would have checked for it before leaving the venue at the end of the night. But the more I search this house and don’t find it, the more likely it looks that the “too excited to meet Grace Petrie to remember to grab it” theory is exactly what happened. So basically, my current working theory is that Grace Petrie stole my wallet.

It'd be good if Sam Campbell won Taskmaster, not just because I called that the moment the cast was officially announced so now I have to back him like he’s a sports team because I like being right. But I’d enjoy being two handshakes away from a Taskmaster champion.

My brother does have a few “meeting now-famous people” stories about his time doing the comedy circuit in London, which I would like credit for not having posted here. Last year he gave me some entertaining gossip about British comedians, and I have refrained from mentioning that on my blog about British comedians, and I just want people to recognize the restraint I showed. In case anyone’s concerned, since “there’s a story about a famous person” so often means bad things, it’s nothing like that. All stories with tawdry parts in them have been entirely consensual. Though I will say that one time last year, my brother and I were in our parents’ living room and he told a story about Daniel Sloss that resulted in us having to explain the concept of dick pics to our mother. That is fine to say because it’s not putting any previously unknown gossip out there, as Daniel Sloss’ most recently released filmed special has a whole routine about how there are lots of his dick pics out there and one is bound to get leaked at some point. And I said “Yes, so I’ve heard.”

My brother told me at the time that he didn’t particularly like Daniel Sloss’ comedy, but I’m pretty sure he hadn’t actually seen it, and this was just one comedian automatically disliking another comedian who had started around the same time as him but become much, much more successful. Though to be fair, I have seen the DVD Daniel Sloss made when he was 22, and it’s fair to say he was not always the deep and complex comedian he is today. There is some bad stuff in his half man/half x-box days. And even recently, I don’t think everything he’s done is great. His latest special was fairly uneven and I do get sick hearing him call himself a dangerous an edgy comic, even though I know that’s just normal marketing. But I think he’s made some legitimately great things.

My brother told me more recently, however, that he had watched Daniel Sloss’ Jigsaw for the first time and loved it, that it’s exactly how he feels about relationships but hasn’t seen someone put it so well into words before. And he sent Jigsaw to his friend who’s in a bad relationship, saying this might encourage her to get out of it. I said I know what he means, that Jigsaw put into words a bunch of stuff that I also think about relationships but couldn’t articulate as clearly as Daniel Sloss did in that show, and I’ve also used it to show other people what I think. For example, I said, when I was early in the process of dating my most recent ex-girlfriend, it was going really really well and we were both talking about how we liked this but had agreed at the outset that neither of us were looking for a serious relationship, I sent her the Jigsaw show as a way to explain why I don’t do serious/traditional/committed relationships, but I really like her so can we keep seeing each other anyway? And of course about three weeks later we decided we had fallen in love and would therefore make an exception and use the word “girlfriend” and call this a relationship properly. I told my brother this, and he said… “No, that’s not the same thing. I sent Jigsaw to a girl I like because I hoped it would make her break up with her boyfriend. That’s what you’re supposed to do with that show, use it to break people up. You’re not supposed to send it to a girl you like who’s already dating you, as a way to start a relationship with her. Do you think it might have been a bad sign that you started a relationship by showing her that strongly anti-romance comedy show and saying this is what you think?” And I said I don’t know, fuck off, and yeah, probably.

It is nighttime and I have to get up for work tomorrow but I can't sleep, so I thought I'd just start writing some stuff and see where it takes me. Obviously it took me here. I started writing about the Taskmaster podcast, and I ended up writing about why my relationship fell apart last year. I'm doing fine. I need to go to sleep. I also need to find my fucking wallet. Just my luck, having Grace Petrie steal my wallet.