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justagalwhowrites · 8 months ago

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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.

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x oc #lavender #smut fic #For You

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ruershrimo · 9 months ago

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take me back (take me with you) | f. megumi x fem! reader | chapter 1: nostalgia

ao3 link for additional author's notes | playlist | next | m.list

chapter synopsis:

'“You’re my best friends forever,” you whisper to them. It’s the truth and it’s a promise. The train halts with that chuffing sound all trains produce, and your mother holds the luggage as well as your other hand as you wave to them goodbye.'--- ' It’s very late and I still have so much I want to talk about with you, but I’m really sleepy now. My eyes are barely open and my face is about to fall on the paper, I think. Just know that I'm thinking of the two of you all the time. XX

Love, [Name]

(P.S.: I still have your hair tie. Do you know if I’ll ever be able to give it back?)'

word count: ~5k; tws: none for now

2-4-2015

Dear Fushiguro Tsumiki,

How are you today? I’m so sorry that we haven’t talked in so long.

Forgive me for asking so many questions in this letter— I know too little about writing them; my mother is the one who asked me to write this saying that it would help me keep in touch with my friends or write better (either of the two, I can’t quite remember).

Between an urban area or a rural area, which would you prefer? I’ve had to go all around the place because of my mother and I’m still all the way in Tanegashima now. If you were to go from Tokyo to where I am, you’d have to either go for a drive lasting more than 20 hours or book a three hour flight.

I’ve only stayed in the city once— that was when we were still in the same school, and we could all fit in my aunt’s apartment since my father was outstationed for the whole year. But I digress. Personally I prefer the city. It all feels so modern, and so much less empty than how it’s like here on this little island. I mean, we have the space centre, so I can always visit that, but after the third or fourth time you’d probably get a little bored of it too.

I wish I could go to Tokyo again one day, though. I’d definitely take the time to visit you, too. I read on a pamphlet once of how pretty everything gets in Tokyo during winter time, especially during Christmas. We don’t really celebrate Christmas here but the pamphlet reminded me of that one December when we spent it at my aunt’s, we ate lots of KFC and had a little party while my aunt sang songs and drank enough alcohol to prove she had a liver of steel a million times over.

It’s nice to reminisce on these things, and it’s nice to reminisce on when we were still there too. I know I never told you this enough, but I was so happy when you walked up to me on the playground that day and asked if you wanted to be friends. I really, really liked your hair and wanted to ask you the same. I was just too shy to do it, and thought that if I would I’d end up messing things up and mortifying myself. I miss that and you and I miss 2010 and I miss Tokyo, and walking back from school with you and Megumi (you were like my cool older sister), and I really, really miss doing each other’s hair. It was the most joyful I’d ever been in my then 8 years of life and every day was a new fragment of happiness to keep in my heart like a picture in a locket.

Now I really want to go there again, and maybe go to the Shinjuku-Gyoen, or see the lights at night. I wish I could stay for a whole year and see how the trees can change from being highlighted cherry blossom pinks, to lush greens with summer dew on them, to golden ginkgo leaves. I’d keep them with me, too. I hope you can take me there one day and we can see everything together again. My apologies if I’m asking too much of you.

Also, how is Megumi? I miss him too. Is he the way he was, still? Is everything okay between you and him, still? Unlike elementary school, the boys in junior high are all taller than the girls, so since we’re the same age do you think he’d be taller than me too? Is he taller than you, or are you still one of the tallest girls in junior high like how you were in elementary school?

It’s very late and I still have so much I want to talk about with you, but I’m really sleepy now. My eyes are barely open and my face is about to fall on the paper, I think. Just know that I’m thinking of the two of you all the time. XX

Love, [Name]

(P.S.: I still have your hair tie. Do you know if I’ll ever be able to give it back?)

28-2-2011

The train to the airport is arriving in a minute, and you’re sure your mother won’t let you just wait for the next one, so you’re stuck clutching your little luggage bag as you look at Tsumiki and Megumi, that inseparable pair, and their snowy-haired “benefactor” (whatever that means. You think he’s more like their father sometimes, though).

Even if you knew it was inevitable and that this day would eventually come, especially with your leaving Tokyo being pulled even earlier than you thought it would, a part of you pretended that you’d still get to stay with them for a little while longer. In Tokyo you’d solidified your place and built your roots— you had friends, were doing alright in school and had even begun to be less anxious about everything. Now you’d be uprooted again, you thought as your fists trembled, Now you’d be back to square one.

2011 had started as a busy year— your father had begun preparations to move somewhere else where you and your mother could follow him and the three of you would be together again. It was busy for Tsumiki, too, who had more school matters to tend to due to her being one of the best, most well-rounded students in her year (you didn’t know much of the details).

…it had also begun with you seeing a dog when you were alone with Megumi once. It had these unique markings on its head, with alabaster fur and jaundice-hued eyes. And Megumi then had a panicked look in his eye, asked how and why you could see them as well as whether you’d seen them before, which you suppose caused him to be busier after that, too. Tsumiki and Megumi’s benefactor visited you and your mother the night after, asking to speak with your mother and your mother alone. He paused before you, almost shocked, you supposed, but you couldn’t see through his pitch black sunglasses (he was one weird guy, seriously— pitch black sunglasses? Really?). To which she frowned, as the man uttered that you could be a “window”, but that you could still be able to use “cursed energy”, or something. You’d heard of neither of those, and weren’t able to eavesdrop or discern anything else they’d said.

Then nobody else mentioned the dog anymore.

If you questioned any of them, you’d only be told that the dog was a stray, and that those markings must have been a particularly special birthmark. Yet you knew it was all a lie, but after multiple tries you gave up on wondering.

When you’d first learned you’d be moving yet again, you cried and screamed for your mother to let you stay, and for what felt like hours. After relaying this to Tsumiki, she just put her hand on yours before hugging you— always wise, always kind, always smiling, you can’t say this enough about her. Megumi patted your back before she pulled him in as well, and for once he didn’t shove her hand away. You couldn’t even bother to be confused at that— you just continued to weep as Tsumiki comforted you, whispering, “I can’t promise I’ll always be able to talk to you, but I’ll try my best to keep in touch when I can. And even if we don’t, we’ll always be friends, okay? So we’ll meet again someday, don’t forget that, okay, [Name]?”

A day after that Megumi told you to stay safe. Nearly ordered you to swear you’d stay safe and protected, always. He said that the world was dangerous since it was full of dangerous creatures and people who could kill you at any moment, but as long as you were on an island like the one you were moving to, you’d be fine. You furrowed your brow at that as he held your hand and felt him squeeze it— subconsciously, most likely.

“Well,” Tsumiki starts, a tinge of sadness in her tone, her eyes slightly swollen. Megumi’s expression is unreadable but his fists are balling the fabric of his shirt and his leg is shaking. It makes you want to sob and cling to both of them and you know if you did they wouldn’t ever let go, “I guess this is goodbye, [Name]…”

Before you realise it, tears start pooling in your eyes and soon they’re trickling down your face uncontrollably, just like the day when you’d first met her. “We’ll still be friends, right?” You won’t leave me, right?

“Mhm!” Tsumiki smiles— she was always smiling, always, even when she was about to cry along with you. Her lip was trembling and for a second you swore you could detect that in the ever-stoic Megumi, too. “It’s okay, you don’t have to worry. We’ll be friends forever, so we’ll surely see each other soon enough,” Tsumiki assures you, close to sniffling, “We made a promise to always be friends, right? So you’ll see the two of us again in just a few years’ time no matter what.”

“Okay,” you sniff, “I’ll see the two of you when we’re all grown up, and… and I’ll be taller, too! I promise I’ll visit Tokyo next time!”

“...that’s good,” Megumi says, his leg still shaking discreetly, joining you and Tsumiki’s conversations in a way he’d rarely done.

Tsumiki nods, “Yeah. That sounds really, really good, [Name]. Wait—! Let me give you something. You can call it a gift!”

She takes it off, and her hair unfurls like flowers from bouquets after they’re untied, placing the red-ribbon hair tie securely in your palm.

“Your hair tie?” you ask, “No, it’s okay—!”

“Please, just… just keep it, okay? It’s a gift from Megumi and I to you, [Name]!”

Then you’re in her embrace again as you clutch the hair tie, while after a little hesitation Megumi joins in and you swear you can see their benefactor smiling— not just the smile he had when you first saw him, this one in particular seemed proud, fatherly, the same way your father did when you told him about how you were able to read through a whole book with beginners’ kanji in it.

“You’re my best friends forever,” you whisper to them. It’s the truth and it’s a promise.

The train halts with that chuffing sound all trains produce, and your mother holds the luggage as well as your other hand as you wave to them goodbye.

15-3-2011

The phone continues to vibrate in your hands as you anxiously tap your foot on the ground. You’re sure it’s going to end up sore. Frantically, you press it almost forcefully to your ear when it stops ringing. “Tsumiki, Megumi!”

“[Name]!”

“Are you alright? I saw the footage of the earthquake on the news, are you safe? Were you and Megumi evacuated, are you all safe? Please tell me whether you’re safe—!”

“Megumi, it’s [Name]!— Don’t worry, we’re safe now.”

Relieved, you sigh, “That’s good, that’s good,” you say, “It must’ve been really scary…”

“Mhm— everything started shaking as if we were on some boat in the middle of the sea and the waves started getting wilder, and it was like the ground was rumbling.”

You shiver. “That sounds so scary…— I’m glad you’re safe, though. I don’t know why stuff like that has to happen so quickly sometimes, and so suddenly, too. And it takes so many people along with it. I thought I could’ve lost the two of you.”

“Well, we made a promise,” she tells you, “So don’t worry. —Oh! Megumi wants to talk to you. Here, Megumi.”

“Are you alright?” he inquires, “Have you seen anything scary in the countryside?”

“Huh? Oh, no, I haven’t seen anything. Why?”

“Nothing. Just wanted to know.” Now that sounds like a bold-faced lie.

“Uh-huh, okay.”

-20-5-2011-

“Hello? Is this Tsumiki? I need to ask if she’s alright—”

“Oh, little [Name]?” a man says over the phone— the benefactor, you remember, “So sorry, she’s pretty busy right now… call next time, okay?”

-21-5-2011-

“Hello? This is the Fushiguro house contact, right?”

“Sorry, Tsumiki’s busy at the moment. Me too, actually.”

“Megumi!” you smile, bringing the phone closer to your cheek in excitement, “How is everything?”

“Good, to say the least,” he replies, “We’re just a bit busy. Sorry, but I’ve to hang up soon.”

“Oh, oh-okay! Bye bye, Megumi!”

“Bye.”

-13-7-2011-

“Hi, [Name] speaking. I called twice last month and a few days ago. Are you still busy?”

“A little— well, Tsumiki is,” the voice on the other side says. You know it’s not Tsumiki, not yet at least. “She’s really sorry, [Name].”

“No, no, it’s okay! I don’t want to bother any of you either, so thank you for telling me!”

“Well, if you want I can try to get Tsumiki right now,” the voice offers.

“Really? Thank you so much!”

The pause that ensues after is followed by the fifteen happiest minutes of your life since February this year.

“[Name]? Is that you?”

“Yeah! Hi, Tsumiki!”

She gasps slightly in the way that children do when in awe or when someone finds out they’ll be eating their favourites for lunch. “Hello!”

“How are you?” you ask.

“I’m good! Really busy, though, so I’m really sorry if I can’t call you as often… but everything’s been alright. You?”

“Mm,” you hum, nodding your head even if she can’t see it, “I’m good, too!”

-18-8-2011-

You don’t know when you started heading to the phone and keying in the number, doing everything but ringing it. You’re busy, too— you’ve less time now to ring them up, and the last time you did, Tsumiki still apologised but sounded a little distant, just that one bit too busy to be able to tend to you. One step farther away from you. And Megumi was seldom ever the one by the phone. Still, you could understand why. You supposed they always had something going on that you never understood or never asked about. That would explain the incident with the unusually marked dog. No, they weren’t sketchy, but there was definitely something they must have known about the world that you didn’t.

Now you don’t know if you can even muster the courage to talk to you or write to you. The distance between you has widened exponentially and you hesitate just a bit more every time you hold the phone and press its buttons.

Then the phone rings, and after you hesitate once more, you put it down.

9-2-2016

If there’s one thing you remember from about half of your life ago, it’s that your first crush was probably Fushiguro Megumi.

You’re honestly surprised it wasn’t actually his sister. That over Tsumiki and her abundant compassion and beautiful soul, you’d feel your heart leaping and overflowing with warmth because of him instead. Constantly angry, never for once not irascible, always serious and aloof. You’re sure that if you’d met him now instead of back then you’d find him some asshole who you just wouldn’t be able to understand— why’d he always have to seem so angry?

Yet it was a struggle, trying to understand him. It really was. Maybe you didn’t really have to understand anyone, much less Megumi. He never ceased being so serious and easily angered but you could tell from his eyes that he must have not intended to hurt anyone; half of the time you understood him: like when you could see that glint in your eyes that replaced what would have been a ghost of a smile on his lips, the other half of the time you didn’t: like whenever he shoved Tsumiki’s hand off his shoulder, and Tsumiki just continued to smile. Now, that really confused you. You’d thought about that for days before coming to the conclusion that you’d probably never find an answer.

Conversely, Tsumiki was kind and patient. If you’d met her now you’d have fallen in love with her immediately and she probably wouldn’t even notice in that terribly goodhearted, unknowingly innocent way of hers.

In retrospect it should have been more obvious: he scowled at you and if it were anyone else who did so to you back then you would have merely cried and closed in on yourself, yet you never did when it came to him. You just continued to stick to him like those kind of glue residuals left behind after you take a sticker off a table or a price tag from the back cover of a book. You were probably annoying like that. And to some degree you suppose he’d given you his own form of special treatment by letting you do so anyway.

If you’d known what you were feeling back then you probably wouldn’t have admitted anything, anyway. Probably you would’ve kept it all within you, quiet and unnoticed, trying to drown yourself into life’s backdrop like an insect engulfed in resin.

But you’re older now, more mature and slightly more outspoken; you’re going to try to be confident and meet someone, this one person alone who you can only meet now without his sister there just because you used to have a crush on him and—

You don’t think you’d be able to admit anything either. Yet to yourself he’s the first. He always will be, and you’re not sure whether that sounds pathetic, miserable or disgustingly, hopelessly delusional, considering you don’t even want to pursue anything yourself.

It’s going to be Valentine's Day soon and you’re quite sure that most of your school friends are making Valentine’s chocolates for their boyfriends or their crushes. In all truthfulness, you might as well not feel blue about it— you’re 14, that’s still pretty young, you don’t have to rush things like relationships or confessions through and you’ve been told to focus on your studies instead— but the thought that you’re going to be alone is still kind of depressing.

10-4-2015

Dear [Name],

Don’t apologise— it’s partially my fault. I ended up being really busy that year due to something we had to deal with.

But anyway, it’s been so long! I miss you every day as well!

Megumi and I’ve been great, and I hope you’ve been too. It’s been a long four years since we last talked (it’s already 2015, how time flies!), but you still sound the same. It’s like you’ve got better handwriting now, though!

Aside from the fact that I’ve been swarmed with stuff to do (I joined the student council, yay!), junior high has been okay, to say the least— and hey, I’m still pretty tall, you know? Plus, a lot of the teachers say I’m surprisingly tall for my age, heheh. Things are going the same as always. I’ve got accustomed to the loads of homework we have now too. But it’s like Megumi’s been having a problem lately— he’s getting into fights, beating people up, things like that. I wouldn’t call him a delinquent, though: moreso someone who beats the delinquents up instead. I know what he wants to do and why he does it, but I don’t want him to fight other people and get himself or others hurt.

I’ve tried to tell him this before, to be honest. I’ve tried it many times but each time I must sound more annoying to him than the last— I don’t want to force him to do anything, though, and I understand that part of why he does this is because of his own ideals. I just want him to not raise his hand against others. So I have to resort to this.

Sorry for spilling it all on paper like this… I just wanted someone to talk about this to, and I thought you would listen to me, I suppose. Sometimes it’s hard— sometimes I really do feel like his parent instead of his sister and it makes me feel so lonely, really.

Oh dear, what do I do to make him hear me, seriously…

Anyway, I totally get what you mean— I’ve stayed in Tokyo all my life, but I’m sure that if I was uprooted and had to live somewhere else I’d have lots of trouble. Tokyo to me is my home, and my whole life is here. Moving somewhere else would probably shatter it completely, I think.

And please visit when you can! Maybe if your mother allows it, we can come to us instead, one day! And it’s not like we can’t visit you either. Our door’s always open. Once this school year ends, perhaps we could stay with you for a night or two! (If you would have us, of course).

Besides that, I don’t really have much to say. I did have a good day today, though. I went out with some of my friends from school after our classes ended and we ate some donuts. They were so tasty!!! Honestly, whenever you have the time, I really recommend going there with some of your friends after school!!

Regardless, I think this is all I have to say in this letter. I promise I’ll try my utmost best to always set aside time to write to you!!! Get some good rest whenever you can, okay? Miss you always!

Sincerely,

Tsumiki

(P.S.: Do you have an email or a phone number of your own yet? If so, please shoot me an email or give me a call! I can reply more there since I have those now and can use those instead of always relying on our house contact. You can keep the hair tie, too, by the way! It can be like a memoir (*^▽^*). And it’s for you, after all!)

13-3-2015

You remember seeing a little dog one time back in your hometown when you were around six or seven years old.

It was a tiny little thing, with the fluffiest black fur you’d ever stroked, and though every second it was barking louder than your mother could ever handle, it was adorable and seldom threatened to bite anyone. And it liked you— it never barked at you and let you shower it with pets despite how much it had frightened you initially.

He was irritable but calm, someone who frowned and scolded but never raised his hand against anyone— not even that “benefactor” of his who you’d never heard him talk about without mentioning how much he’d like to punch him someday. You genuinely don’t think he’s ever done so, either. He doesn’t seem like the type: from what you remember, if he were to think he’d hurt someone he knew or evidently cared about— as much as he’d like to deny this, however— he would blame everything on himself, you think. He’d feel the guilt rake through his body and lacerate his skin, piercing through his ribs. Yet he’d keep living, and he wouldn’t tell anyone about it; he’d be so quietly miserable.

That’s what he was like: quietly miserable. There’s a certain sorrow in the way he does things; you could tell this from the start despite how young and inept at articulating yourself you were at that age. But you’d always known and sensed that there was a sadness running through him, coursing through his veins, one that you could feel like heat from the warm blood beneath one’s skin.

Today you wonder if he’s the same, if he still seems like the saddest person you’ve ever met, if he still seems like he would have been the saddest and most doleful had he not always tried to act as if otherwise, living defiantly against it. If he hadn’t always been able to keep living while suffering quietly like a child with nothing but muffled sobs in the desolate corner of an empty classroom.

But at eight you thought maybe you could liken Megumi to a puppy. Or something like that. He certainly reminded you of that all-bark-no-bite puppy from the past. You wondered how it was now, whether it was still being fed and taken care of.

Tsumiki was vastly different, though— the kindest girl you ever knew, with neat, soft hair and the type of handwriting all the girls in her class wanted to have. She was always smiling, always kind— you thought she was immensely wise for a girl around your age; you always wanted to be as amazing of a person as she was: always hardworking, always clever, always kind and forgiving, no matter what.

…you don’t even know why you’re thinking about some kids you met once who you’ll probably never see again. Just two kids who you never kept in touch with. Or at least never tried to. You had their contact— you tried talking to Tsumiki a few times, but for some reason she could only ever reply once or twice (she apologised profusely for not being available any time she picked up as well), and as time passed the way the distance between the two of you grew, by the summer of 2011 you’d begun holding a telephone close to your ear without keying any number in it, as if clinging onto it would provide you with any sort of closure.

You miss them, though: smiley Tsumiki and frowny Megumi.

Leaning back into the mattress, you trace your fingers over the hair tie on your wrist, fingers rubbing against each thread of fabric in its red ribbon.

Could you even talk to them or face them anymore after ceasing contact with them for years, though? Heck, you don’t even know whether they’re alive or not. Would they be angry at you? Disappointed? Feeling as if they’d been wronged or left behind?

Still, you miss them. You really do.

Your mother’s calls bring you downstairs, and you eat until your stomach is full before washing your plate. The only other step in your routine now is to head up and retreat to your room again.

“Come down, [Name], could you?” your mother says, interrupting your trip back up, “I just want to talk to you for a second.”

Now, that… that was a bit strange. Your mother rarely ever asked you to talk to her. You spent enough time with each other as is, doing almost everything else besides being in school or at work in the same house, even if it never meant asking about each others’ day. It just was never part of the conversations you had with each other. You’d ask where she wanted you to throw things or how you could cook something, but she’d never go out of her own way to learn about your own day since you were about nine or ten, and it wasn’t like you ever did either. Perhaps she was trying to make the effort to?

“What is it?”

“You like writing, honey?”

“I mean, I guess so?” you reply hesitantly, “As long as it’s not for school or my grades don’t rely that heavily on a task, writing can be pretty fun.”

“Good, good,” she remarks, nodding her head, “Actually, I recently found something you may be interested in online. You still have your friend and her brother’s house contact, right?” she questioned. Instantly you know which friend she’s referring to and say yes— how could you not, after all? “Ever heard of pen pals, darling?”

Which brings you to where you are now: your mother leaning by the door frame of your room as you’re hunched over the table writing the letter. Surprisingly, she really seemed to care about this, even preparing the prettiest paper you’d ever seen, with pastel pink patterns printed on the paper’s edges, and though you struggled with what to say it first the words have begun spilling out of you despite how late it’s started to get.

You wonder whether she’ll reply. She probably will, though, but a fragile part of yourself surmises that she may not, and although you’d like to talk to her again you fear that because of the time that’s passed things may just not be the same anymore. You wonder if the years have made the three of you infinitely different than your eight and nine year old selves.

But that was growth, right? So you had to grow and learn how to talk to her, learn how to face her without thinking that she’d be angered or frustrated, or anything like that. And even if she did, even if it would hurt you, you’d be able to live. The world would keep spinning and all that would be lost were two friends who you lived without for about four years, ceteris paribus. Who could claim that the seventy or so years after those four would be any different?

That’s why you took the pen and paper and started to write, telling yourself you’d face it and finish the letter no matter what. Even if it was short. Even if it wouldn’t be enough to express four years’ worth of unspoken words, from funny things that had happened in school, or what you thought of whatever was on the news, or how your parents had gotten you a new phone.

As your eyelids gradually grow heavier, you watch how you fill two whole pages in the handwriting you have— you wish it could have been at least a tad bit more similar to Tsumiki’s, who never needed any boxes or lines to write completely straight and uniform for each character as if copying excerpts from finely printed books to the letter.

Soon, you’re reaching the end of the letter, determined to keep the handwriting legible even if you feel like plopping your head on the table and falling asleep— to some degree you still need it to look presentable, after all.

“(P.S.: I still have your hair tie. Do you know if I’ll ever be able to give it back?)”

taglist:

@bakananya, @sindulgent666, @shartnart1, @lolmais, @mechalily, @pweewee, @notsaelty, @nattisbored

(please send an ask/state in the notes if you’d like to join! if I can't tag your username properly, I've written it in italics. so sorry for any trouble!)

#it's finally up :)#yayy #take me back (take me with you)#jjk megumi #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #fushiguro megumi x reader #megumi fluff #megumi angst #jjk x fem!reader #fem!reader #fushiguro tsumiki #fushiguro megumi #megumi #ruer writes

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tgmsunmontue · 4 months ago

Text

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.”

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

#online and anonymous #Hangster #Sereshaw #hangman x rooster #Top Gun Maverick fanfic

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thealexchen · 21 days ago

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hi! i recently got back into lis2 again and that made me really curious - do you still agree with a majority of the critiques you made on lis2 in 2020? i know it's been 4 years since that post was made, but i actually do remember when you dropped this critique on a separate account and i'd thought it was an interesting one to keep in mind back then :)

i appreciated a lot of what you have to say, even if i respectfully disagree with almost all of it 😭 - i didn't want to drop a whole "why" i disagree discussion on here because it seems kind of rude to drop such a huge thing about it haha, but i would like to say that this critique actually did stick with me for a bit and i appreciate that you made it when you did! your account was a big lis2 acc that i remember back in the day, and i always loved seeing your posts!

Hi there and thanks for your ask! I think I may know who you are, but you did get me thinking about that critique again (has it been four years already?? Jesus). After rereading it again, I have to say my overall opinions haven’t changed… I’m just not as invested in them as I used to be.

Since DE came out, I’ve seen a drastic shift from favoring D9 to DN, but I really think the reception comes down to their creative choices (or lack thereof). When I gave my initial thoughts on DE in May, I said that D9’s games rely heavily on fanservice to be marketable, while LiS2 was divisive from the jump because it was so obviously rooted in DN’s prioritization of making a game out of passion and not what would sell well (a continuation of Max and Chloe’s story). People have mostly been complaining that DE feels written without much thought or care for the original game, with lazy offscreen narrative decisions. Unfortunately, I believe this output is really due to D9 being puppeteered by Square to “corporatize” this series to death, which I find really depressing.

When LiS1 first debuted in 2015, the gaming industry was still recovering from Gamergate (which proved how misogynistic it still was) and LGBT+ issues were finally achieving mainstream attention, both positive and negative. The media storm surrounding LiS1 all focused on how different it was. It was truly radical at the time to turn what would be a typical Sundance indie film plot into an interactive AA game and make it mainstream. I think both the positive attention from gamers starved for a story like this and the negative attention calling it “Life is Tumblr” contributed to its massive popularity and attention that hasn’t been matched since.

I have always, always believed (like since 2018) in LiS being an anthology series and letting Max and Chloe’s story end. “Farewell” was supposed to be that, and I was really excited to see what DN was making next and hopeful I could fall in love with LiS2 like I did the first game. Even if I found LiS2’s narrative choices really frustrating, I still respect DN for sticking to their vision. Honestly, Michel Koch deserves his flowers so much for staying active on Twitter through years of fan hate and complaining and posting consistently respectful replies, even as his own characters have likely become unrecognizable to him.

But while DN stuck to their vision about LiS2, I think the main contextual issue with the game (and where my critiques came from) is there was too much pressure to follow up an accidental hit. DN wanted to follow up LiS1 with an even bigger, more serious, more ambitious, maybe more “artistic” and “daring” game that was boldly political… but I just don’t think they achieved that. The game still looks beautiful, with a strong soundtrack, art direction, moments of calm, and great environmental storytelling like the first game. But while LiS1 lured you into a false sense of security with its cozy vibes and high school setting, only to blindside gamers with heartbreaking and shocking plot twists late in the game, LiS2 is just a misery fest from start to end in an attempt to be as serious and memorable as the first game. There isn’t enough joy and nostalgia (DN is SO good at nostalgia) to contrast the sorrow, and the game wasn’t as memorable or fun to play for me.

My main critique in 2020 was the game relies too much on a violent trauma narrative without proper research and content warnings. Looking back on it now, I think DN internalized the praise too strongly that LiS1 was daring and different. They tried to be even more topical and bold without regard to how actual players of color might react to the racial violence onscreen. In addition, I critiqued LiS2 for not showcasing the positive aspects of Sean and Daniel’s Mexican heritage to contrast all the racism, and I thought True Colors did a better job at including meaningful and positive cultural details for Alex and Gabe’s family. They likely didn’t think to research more carefully how to depict POC (and how the standards for sensitive representation might be different in the U.S. compared to France). American politics are also wayyyy more complex than what’s on the news, and have a massive historical, social, and economic background, and nowadays, I’ll cut DN some slack and say I think that’s too much to tackle for any game. Yes, DN could’ve done better, but I wouldn’t critique them as harshly today, and I know they had good intentions.

If the pressure to follow up LiS1 wasn’t there, maybe LiS2 could’ve been different. Maybe DN wouldn’t have bit off more they could chew, or maybe this game could’ve been made independently of the LiS series and judged on its own merit. A game like Tell Me Why shows how DN is at their best when they tell smaller, nostalgic stories and are able to do the right research and collaborate with the right consultants and actors. I hope Lost Records can be the same, since DN is pitching it from the jump as an anthology and likely their do-over of LiS as their own independent studio.

Thank you again for asking! It was nice to revisit my critique. If you’d still like to talk about it, I am down for a friendly debate!

#lis #lis2 #life is strange #life is strange 2 #life is strange double exposure #answered asks #anon #Sean Diaz #Daniel Diaz #max caulfield #chloe price #Alex Chen #pricefield #lis2 critique #my post

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3416 · 2 years ago

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1634 primer (2015-2023)

since my brain refuses to let me think about anything BUT the toronto maple leafs these days, i've decided to compile info/links/photos/videos of the dynamic on the team i personally find most compelling, charming, heartwarming, hilarious: mitch marner and auston matthews (aka 1634 aka the heart and soul of this current leafs team in my humble opinion). this will cover the beginning of their nhl careers to the end of the 22-23 season. for anything from 2023 summer onwards, here’s part 2.

i will be citing my sources, but if any info needs corrected or there are things i've missed, don't be afraid to hmu. i've only been around for a couple months so 🫡 😘 ✌️ this is going to be long-winded (almost 4k kinds of long-winded...) let's DO IT:

2015-2017 (rookie era)

in june 2015, mitch marner is drafted to his hometown team, going 1st round 4th overall in more beginnings of an effort to rebuild the leafs franchise. here are photos from that day. here's an athletic article about why they picked him that makes me cry.

in april 2016, auston matthews is drafted 1st overall and is basically deemed the savior of the toronto maple leafs from the jump. here are pics from that. (please look at the one below of auston putting on a 16 leaf jersey on draft day and tell me that wasn't fate of SOME sort... i know it's the year but. THE VIBES. the what's-to-come of it all) (here’s a sportsnet documentary on auston/his journey to the nhl).

they played against each other at the 2016 world juniors (dec 2015-jan 2016). here they are on the cover of world hockey news before they had even met... as boys to watch in the hockey world

according to mitch, the first time they actually met was when he said hi to auston in an elevator at world juniors. then mitch says the night auston was drafted, he was at a concert and everyone started an auston matthews chant that he was 100000% in on and excited about. and it was pretty early on in development days that they became instant friends. here's the vid @ ~4:21 and here's a gifset

during their very first day of training camp, auston broke a pane of glass off of a pass from mitch when they were just messing around (again.... fate). here's the vid and here's an article about it

here's them fighting each other for the puck at camp... there's something about it that makes me emotional... their tenacity as rookies...

one of the first ever hangouts recorded on social media... they went to a fair or smth august 2016 (gifs)

at first, they didn't play together very much. in fact, through a lot of the coach mike babcock era (2015-2019), they weren't linemates at all, as auston usually had willy on his right wing. (here's an article justifying that decision from babcock)

that didn't stop them from developing a lot of habits and routines together though. this whole half of a morning skate interview with mitch... "hopefully we're together for a long time and can build up some great chemistry" "that's a big part of what me and matts try to do when we drive together, just keeping it light and have fun with each other" (gifs... it kills me)

"Not only are Matthews and Mitch Marner clicking on their respective forward lines, they are having a good time in the car driving to and from practice and games."

they used to come into the the arena in the same ways on game days (watch any leafs blueprint ep from this time... they’re always getting off the bus together or walking into scotiabank together attached at the hip), went out of their way to greet the doormen and staff, sometimes showed up in matching outfits as evidenced here, here, here, and honestly.. so many more times. it’s about the coordination... the texting each other their fits.

the famous copycat hat moment (gifs).... their goofy responses and getting chirped on twitter about it by everyone and stamkos) (auston’s smile)

they started making sure they were coming out onto the ice together for warmups, always in line toward the back (still the same to this very day). here (x, x, x, x) are just a couple shots of that... they have a handshake they do on their way out (still to this day also), and i think this is the one of the first times it was recorded.

and on the rare occasion they DID get to play together... they were always the Most™ excited and cute about it. here's them talking about playing on the same line, here and here and here are some first moments of cellying that deserve to be looked at for 10000 years... just pure excitement and joy

here's mitch hopping right on into a ridiculous fight on auston's behalf. and here are their responses about it in the media afterward (cute, loyal, grateful).. and here’s auston pissed about an uncalled shove on mitch ... even though they’re not big fighters, they ARE big defenders of one another

2016 centennial classic where they were so cute (x x x x x)

there are lots of practice photos/vids and media of them around or mentioning each other obviously (like this hug at a scrimmage that kills me personally), but anther one of my favorite standout days was this practice when auston had mitch falling on the ground in laughter. gifs: "I think a lot of people don’t understand how big of a jokester he is at times. He’s always pretty serious, but that’s not his kind of personality at all" (pics)

so many bench shenanigans (literally too many to try to round up)

(what i assume is) a broadcast quote i can't seem to track down but so many ppl have used it for edits and gifs that i believe it: “They love him, clearly Auston Matthews loves him.” ... they're always saying the most ridiculous things about them as a pair

case in point.. they also said this: "Matthews and Marner together - their eyes light up […] They've been dying to play together." (basically confirmation vid here from auston.. his hopeful little smile, help)

one of the most iconic moments has to be the time the camera caught them singing 'livin' on a prayer' together on the bench and it became a whole thing in the media. here's the moment, their responses (gifs, gifs), and bon jovi's response too.

they used to play video games as a unit and basically annoy the shit out of everyone. thanks zach hyman for the confirmation: “They have this whole strategy, whenever we play. Auston sits in the back and snipes, and Mitch runs around and looks for you. They have this whole little strategy they put together. And then they laugh. They start dying laughing. They’re clowns.”

they have so many oddball social media interactions and a lot of them are probably lost to time but: here's a meme of mitch being part of both of their twitter profiles, here's some petulant mitch getting clowned on and compared to mickey mouse, here's more auston making fun of him for looking 12, “can’t be a boys week when your gfs are there...... but u look nice :)”, purp.... the joint ootd.. who was doing it like them?, “getty images”, “walking advertisement”

holding bozak’s baby together at the xmas party (gifs)

golfing, hanging out at the mall, shopping

despite their very complimentary talk of each other in media, they're also not afraid to razz each other. "he gets sensitive sometimes", "just kind of get him grinding", auston chirping mitch and the insurance ads he does, mitch making fun of his hair (pre balding era... wonder if that’s off limits now LOL)

here’s a vid of the 2016 leaf rookies at a christmas market... mitch and auston were very cute... mitch uploaded a story of them on the ferris wheel smiling their asses off too

auston recording him on his ig story here and here while they were filming this batting practice vid

here’s a goalie challenge video mitch and auston did with matt martin and barstool back in the day (”don’t take slapshots” “you took seven”)

here are some misc gifsets from this time period: x x x x x x

i'll end this section with a couple of my favorite and the most iconic game pictures from this era...

if you're curious about more stuff from the rookie days, i highly recommend checking out this initial 1634 primer from @/zoehickel, @/thiccbrock's soft bros tag, and @/mitchski's auston x mitch tag (pro tip: add "/chrono" at the end if you want to see everything chronologically).

2018-2020 (not-so-rookie era)

nothing extremely important or concrete separates this timeline but mitch and auston clearly started to grow into their roles on the team and were no longer just rookies (altho i compiled some very basic stats from wikipedia and both of them have just been crazy talented and at the top of team goals/assists/stats almost every year since they were drafted.. they’ve never really been ‘just rookies’ but )

from what i gather, early 2018 was one of the first sightings of mitch's drawings on his gloves... a habit that auston had also been into since his rookie year... mitch started doing this toward the tail end of the hardass babcock days as a reminder that hockey is supposed to be about having fun (here's a not-official-seeming article about their clashes w babcock) (here are some pics of the doodled gloves of that era)

here’s an article talking about how much mitch and auston loved playing together and tried to take advantage of it and prove to babcock they should be allowed more often (also includes goofy bts content of them sharing a fantasy football team)

babcock got fired bc of nasty coaching tactics (here’s a story on what he did to mitch as a rookie), and in came sheldon keefe, who is more mild-mannered and is willing to experiment with auston and mitch playing together so they got more time as linemates these years.

auston and mitch developed a warmup routine together before games where they stayed on the ice a bit longer than everyone else and passed the puck back and forth (here are some vids from this time period: x x x x x)

the team did a big nhl video game faceoff early 2018, and mitch was auston's #1 hype man about it: gasin him up, helping him warm up, sittin behind him making commentary, and acting like it was his own personal victory when auston won

instagram teasing for mitch’s 22nd bday... “babe !”

they participated in this ‘need for speed’ challenge video with natalie spooner and laura stacey to promote the canadian women’s hockey league... competitive dorks is all i have to say about that.

at the end of 2018, mitch and auston took part in a real production of the nutcracker as cannon dolls... and it is as absurd and amusing as it sounds. famous quotes from the event include: “he couldn’t let go of me”, “that’s what friends are for”, “mitch could just sit around and pout the whole time which he’s so used to doing”... here's the vid (gifs) (pics w ballerina) (more goofy pics) (ig story)

some cute practice pics

in 2019, apple had them film a commercial where auston just followed mitch around titled Mitch Marner Shot on iPhone by Auston Matthews... (gifs) (tumblr vid) (more gifs) just any excuse to talk about it forever... it's arguably one of the greatest things they've ever done... pov of dreams tbh. here's another snippet that didn’t make the cut of them laughing... here’s some gifs of ANOTHER snippet.. and here’s an article about auston with some quotes about how he and mitch are great friends and they were just going to “their” favorite places in toronto that day. (also THEIR favorite restaurant being sotto... the exact place mitch/steph go on very special dates apparently according to this pandemic leaf to leaf... food for thought)

another thing about auston and mitch... they WILL be forming unbreakable bonds with people on the team like it's a group activity, and the most formative for them was probably patrick marleau, who basically became their dad for the 2017-2019 seasons. they would always hang out on the road together, watch movies and go to dinner, etc etc. one time mitch n patty when on vaca without auston... ymca in the car with patty and his sons... “he’s obviously old but he acts even younger than me and mitch”... mitch and auston singing happy birthday to him... here’s a christmas party pic of them that kills me... that here's a video where they talk about their relationship... here's another long interview they did together during lockdown... here is an emotional gifset about the three of them, and below are pictures of the family unit (and one rather... interesting... see: the 3rd pic) (here are pics from 2023 when the marleaus came to a leafs game)

morgan rielly on mitch and auston: “[they] are like best friends. they’re different personalities... when you watch the dynamic with the two of them, whether it’s on the road or on a practice day, it’s pretty funny. it changes every year. it’s a unique dynamic for sure.” and him on mitch/auston/patty also

here’s mitch and auston honoring patty with an appearance from the truly wild jumbo

another case of the trio vibes would be freddie andersen, who was on the team 2016-2021. he was basically besties with auston and they spent lockdown together later, but during the 2020 all star game, all three of them attended and freddie, dedicated his goalie helmet to his best friendship w them. "you look cute?" "yeah, i look cute." ..... also here’s some pre-game high five rituals with the three

more all star content: failed attempted at a heart, the blueprint ep (gifs)

the style/clothes content continues... auston was featured in gq mag and here's mitch's giggly reaction to it. "he's a big style guy and i respect it" (gifs)

auston attended a marner assist foundation event in 2018 to support mitch's charity work (some sm pics from here and here)... also went to the marner assist invitational and got dragged for his tape job (here’s a selfie w them)

here’s some intense cellys from this era: like hello? .. SWEET PEAS... this bench moment....... whatever this was

“Marner and Matthews entered the NHL together in 2016-17 and remain good friends and road roommates now. Marner sounded genuinely enthused about his buddy’s new contract, and sent him a text once word broke Tuesday joking that they’re going to have to figure out where to be neighbours once they enter a higher tax bracket next season.” fellas.... is it gay to plan your future in the suburbs of toronto together

here they are dancing at naz kadri’s wedding ... hand check

which teammate does auston matthews like to watch the most? the answer won’t surprise you!

mitch was planning to stream and play nhl with this random streamer during lockdown and auston literally asked to join and hang... “matts, i’ll talk to you.. in like an hour probably” aka mitch is a constant texter/talker (ALSO here is a twitter thread recounting to the experience since the streams gone forever... rip 2020-2021 mitch the streamer)

here are some of my favorite pictures from this time period:

2021-present (superstar era)

they're both alternate captains, very clearly leaders of this team, and basically recognized as superstars in the league too with continued individual success. they're the last ones out on the ice at warmup still, the first ones to cheer for their teammates milestones, the last ones to give the goalies big hugs after wins. they still don’t always play together 100% of the time, but they individually enhance the players around them and have played career high years when they’re at each other’s sides.

confirmation of their warmup rituals and the fact that it's something they've been doing together, to feel good about themselves, since the very beginning ........ the same as back then .... here’s very recent vid

still doing their little handshake too, with the added bonus of a behind-the-back one too sometimes (mitch does the handshake line for the whole team by this point)

"it really seems like we're not cellying really by ourselves. we're constantly going in to hug each other. i think that just shows the amount of joy and happiness we have going for each other right now."

mitch basically assisted on a large percentage of auston's goals these past few record breaking years that they've been allowed to play together. here's a video after the 21-22 season where mitch talks about how thankful and generous auston has been.

here is a tumblr compilation about their chemistry after they've gotten to play significant stretches as linemates (literally part of the most offensively dangerous line in the 21-22 regular season).

“have you ever had this kind of chemistry with another teammate before in your life?” “no, not really”

they're so silly... so much goofy inconsequential content is out there but: mitch fighting the post that hurt matthews at practice.

here’s mitch checking on auston after he took a puck in the knee at practice

forgotten 2021 christmas vid i can’t track down but. matching mugs and whipped cream mustaches. also just look at them in THIS...

the fashion saga continues.. where here they anecdotally have the same spikey high top/low top shoes (they also have lots of random matching sneakers but i’m not knowledgeable enough to compile those)

this media day fashion trend video... where do you even start with this. “you better put some earrings in here for auston” like auston is the center of his fashion conscience. “i won’t wear one of those.. i don’t think... maybe.. we’ll see” you know DAMn well if auston recommended--- “matts has got those- he’s got a big frame”

they both wear chains with their numbers on them (recent fit pics of auston here and mitch here), and though they’re not exactly matching but the coordination, the knowing they talk about fashion and accessories... them having these chains dates back to 2018 btw

their mutual social media hype for each other's accomplishments never gets old: mitch breaking game point streak in 2022... random overtime winner in 2022... auston hitting 50 goals in 21-22 season... "@austonmatthews what an achievement. proud to be a part of this journey with you"... "congrats to my brother @austonmatthews on his historic night"... “couldn’t have done it without my boys”.... they were so extra just bc of a pic of them hugging... like sure ! ... “my fucking guy is a beast” YOUR guy?? .... mitch basically campaigning for individual awards for auston every time he scored a goal ... “well deserved my dog” “lets go baby” when he finally won them... “new range got that dawg in it”

“[auston’s] always very thankful. he’s done a couple really big thank yous for me already and given me a couple things that i’m just gonna keep between us two... he’s a great guy and obviously deserves what he got.”

in the same way they grow attached to people as a pair, michael bunting joined the team and auston and mitch's top line in 2021 and a best friendship blossomed between the trio.

they went to auston's home in arizona over the 2022 summer to "build chemistry", play golf, play tennis, and just generally hang out

they also potentially celebrated auston’s birthday there because here’s a photo of them at auston’s house with his fav chef and here’s auston with his bday cake in the same outfit ...... best friends

went to a jays game together right at the beginning of the season, this image..... a video of them chatting :’)

here is bunting talking about what it's like to get to know them

iconic bench moment between the three of them... another cutesy one

the 2022 heritage classic costumes/entry together like usual, plus the new trio, plus practice pic

their 2022-2023 gloves where they are still drawing cute little doodles of hearts and dog initials and smileys to remind themselves to have fun

"i think the sky's the limit for [mitch]. i think he's just unbelievable. i love playing with him. i think after he came back, he was probably the best player in the world for the rest of the year. he's incredible to be out there with and watch."

commentators weighing in on their joint legacy and saying “they’re magic out there together. they are what they are because of each other”

here are some more quotes about their impact on the franchise and the way their names are basically cemented in history... the modern day odd couple, they say

for auston’s birthday in sep 2022, mitch commissioned a drawing of auston and his dog felix as a gift

speaking of their dogs..... this goofy insta story

auston feeding mitch a golf club at a charity event? or are they using it as a mic... who can dissect their weird antics

the blueprint episode about mitch has some cute bg stuff of them (gifs), as well as one of my fave little head bonks here

some cellys/bench moments these years too bc they don’t stop: big squeeze... he just lauched himself... i just love them... arms wide open... mitch is a cartoon character... what in the hell is THIS... iconic moment ... 22-23 season cellys so far.... this riveting convo

“all of this doesn‘t really happen without him.” okay another unverifiable quote but like. look at those images and tell me it’s not something he’d say... you can‘t

auston asked about mitch trade rumors: "Mitch is an unbelievable player, he's an unbelievable teammate. In this room, everybody loves Mitch; everybody loves everybody. We really have a tight bond. All the noise coming from the outside, you guys have fun with that."

i’m getting derailed here bc half of these moments are not that significant but i fucking love these pics of yappy auston... like of course he’s talkin to mitch

plenty of ribbing is still going on.... or at least attempts: “those are loud flip flops”... though we have transitioned into blatant confirmation that auston can and will be bossed around by mitch when he says stuff like “mitch will assault me if i don’t pick him [to bring with me to a desert island], but i’d like to have him there too”

team bonding at a lake house but you only tag mitch? that vs the history of mitch complaining about not being included...

the importance of the content we received on the 2021 media day cannot be overstated. here’s 5 questions with auston and mitch, yearbook superlatives, career day (images: x x x), and then 2022′s who’s more likely? (all must-sees, i promise... even confirm themselves as the best bromance... if i spent too long on any single revelations this post would be 500k words more)

also the 2021 leafs call out video and the 2022 leafs call out video absolutely showcase how annoyingly endearing they are about each other... whether they’re trying to harp on one another or give genuine compliments... amazing that a dynamic can be captured so clearly when they’re not even in the room at the same time

“mitchelly marner, i’m grateful for my guy” (gifs) (the new nickname... the incessant use of my guy... mental breakdown inducing)

in november 2022, mitch tied a franchise point streak record (with a very valiant effort from the whole team to get him an empty net goal in the final 2 minutes, i might add) and auston was the first one to scoop him up in celebration and then (where he’s normally :| in media these days) was very :D and proud about it and him afterwards. “i’m so happy he got it” (mitch went on to set the new record at 23 games)

and as for extremely recent, both auston and mitch hit their 500 career points mark within a week of each other (1/3/23 and 1/7/23). here are screencaps, gifs of mitch getting to hit 500 with auston on the ice.. then auston collected the puck and pretending to throw it over the glass and prompting the broadcasters to say: “they’ve celebrated so many milestones together”

here are some teammates and coaches talking about their chemistry together and the fact that they push each other to be better players and enjoy it (tumblr vid)

there’s them being hype about the fact that they were SUPPOSED to go the 2023 all star game together on instagram (auston didn’t end up going bc of injury)

here’s a 2023 athletic article about how different they are in personality but how clear their leadership and friendship is (the athletic... tumblr)

mike johnson went on a podcast pre 22-23 playoffs and said “they like playing here, they like playing with each other, they care about each other, they want to have sex– success together” .... the freudian slip

toward the end of the 22-23 season, mitch was nearing 100 points (never made it) BUT they kept showing this graphic about how mitch has assisted on 99 of auston’s career 299 goals up to that game (ALL DESPITE THEM NOT PLAYING REGULARLY TOGETHER TIL A COUPLE YRS IN)

mitch being asked if he prefers to drive his own line or play with auston... he says it’s always fun and special to play with auston bc of their chemistry and the way they're not afraid to “give it to each other” about where they need to improve. “that’s the kind of friendship and teammate you want. that’s something we’ve built a bond over” (vid) (gifs)

mitch marner got married on july 29th 2023, and auston came back to canada (after skipping OTHER weddings like his “favorite teammate” alex kerfoot and ex teammate tyson barrie) to be in attendance :’) here’s a video of him watching mitch n steph dance there way into the reception, here’s a picture nazem kadri generously posted, here’s a pic of him with mitch and willy, here’s gifs of mitch and auston singing shirtless at the reception, and most 👀 of them all... here’s a pic of auston watching mitch and steph’s first dance. ..

here are some of my favorite more current pics of them

i also gif or post pretty much every 1634 moment from current leafs content/games, so you can check out my hockeyedit tag for some goofy bench or ice shenanigans that didn't make the cut. or my 1634 tag in general.

TL;DR

mitch marner and auston matthews were basically drafted to the maple leafs to be two of the faces of the franchise, and they share a similar burden in that with the leafs lack of playoff success thus far being leaders on the team. they’ve accomplished so many records at an individual level in tandem because of their talents and their chemistry on the ice, and they play their best and happiest hockey when they’re allowed to play together. despite different backgrounds and personalities, they’ve developed an extremely charming relationship off the ice, one built from years and years of intense mutual support, playful teasing, and a shared vision for the team. they seem to be so much more outwardly excited for each other’s successes; it becomes so easy to root for them...... regardless of what the future holds for the current maple leafs team, the two of them have done enough to have their names in the hockey history books, and we are all so lucky that there’s much more ahead of them and that we get to WATCH.

if a single person made it this far, i love you, lol. i personally will never be getting over them and am always looking for more content or unseen stuff so lmk if i missed something crucial. edit (6/18/23): if you’re looking for more pictures of them, i have removed watermarks of 95% of their images together on getty and organized them by tags on this blog @1634archive if you’d like to peruse!

hopefully some people get some sort of joy out of this like i have in compiling it all!! cheers to much much more 1634 in the future too. ❣️❣️❣️❣️❣️❣️❣️

last updated: 9/12/23

#toronto maple leafs #leafs #1634 #mitch marner #auston matthews #hockeycomp #iidk what to call this KLFJSDKL #1634 PRIMER #AnYWAY.. SInCE THE LEAFS LOST ABYSMALLY ... LETS GO #Eplease SOMEOn EnJOY THIS. i beg.#also im officially using this to summon a 583416 return #hockey

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astrangetorpedo · 29 days ago

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Julien Baker on learning to articulate joy

by t. cole rachel 2/3/17

“I’m always afraid that the public will scorn songs about happiness out of a disbelief that it is genuine.”

Are you working on a record now? What’s happening?

I am, but I’m always working on songs no matter what. You can’t not be working on a project if writing is how you go about compartmentalizing your life. Everything that happens, every feeling that you have, becomes work. Since the end of 2015—and keeping in mind all the life changes that year occasioned—I was writing quite a bit. I saw a latent theme start to develop, and then I was like, “Oh, well let’s pursue this.” I now have a really good idea of what I want the next record to be conceptually. I think I can be more intentional with it in presentation, if not necessarily in construction. It’ll probably be sonically similar, because that’s the style in which I write.

The stillness of songwriting—knowing when to stop and just be still—is often the most difficult part of songwriting for me. Knowing when it’s enough. Sometimes I think, “Wow, wouldn’t it be cool if we had, like, a full string quartet and a horn section here, making this into an opera?” but then that doesn’t serve the song. You know? Lyrically, I think, it’s better to be thoughtful instead of just vomiting it out.

I’m about to do something dorky, so I apologize. One of my favorite quotes about creativity is from Wordsworth who says something like, “Poetry is the spontaneous overflow of emotions reflected upon in tranquility.” I think that really accurately represents the dichotomy of writing songs for me, especially with my particular writing style. It’s like, “All right, I have an emotion.” I’ll then go out to my garage and vomit out a song that’s essentially just me singing my feelings out loud. This time around I’m doing a lot more refining. Sprained Ankle was really, really raw. Which isn’t to say that’s always a bad thing—it suited that record and those songs—but this time around I’m happy to have more time with it.

That record seemed to come out of the blue and catch people by surprise. How does it feel to be making music with the knowledge that there is an audience now that is anticipating it? Does that change things?

I’ve heard myself say something in the past that isn’t totally precise, suggesting that I made Sprained Ankle only for me. Admittedly, it’s a very self-involved record that’s specific to my own experiences that I wrote as a tool, as a coping mechanism primarily, for what was happening in my life at that point. That’s how I’ve always used music. I grew up writing songs in punk bands and we would have the same conversation regularly, “Oh, this is going to be rad when we play it at a show!” You would imagine people singing along and yelling out the chorus. So you have something that you’re not only trying to say for yourself because you need to say it, but also that you’re saying to the world, even if the world in your schema is this small community... even if your audience is just a basement.

Now that I know the audience is a bit broader, I can’t help but think about that sometimes. Still, the best songs are the ones I just let happen. What is that Rilke quote? That he’s not a creator of art, he’s just a midwife to it? That’s how I like to feel. How I approach making songs isn’t totally different. Often it’s just when something difficult happens to me or I’m stressed out, I’ll just sit down and say whatever my fears are. I’ve been perpetually trying to come to terms with doing Sprained Ankle live for a year, because I’ve moved on from those specific experiences. The emotions, maybe, are evergreen in a sense because you’re always going to have fresh heartbreak at some point in your life. You’re going to have self-doubt, but it feels weird to still be singing about them years after the fact. One of the challenges about playing live has been finding new ways to apply old sentiments.

I always talk about the song “Good News.” I started to get really bothered that I was having conversations with people who listen to my music who said, “That song made me feel better!” but then I’m sitting up there screaming, “I ruin everything I do.” That’s not the kind of self-deprecating rhetoric or mentality that I want to promote. However, it’s also false to pretend like no one ever has these feelings, because people have those feelings all the time and that’s a very real thing. There’s a balance of not having an artifice of hope, but still writing songs that are honest about how I feel inside, which isn’t always great. I finally made a sort of concession with myself about it, so now before I play that song I’ll say, “This song is about when I thought I ruined everything, and now I’m trying to learn that that’s not true.”

It is cheesy and nine times out of ten I wince at myself on stage when I do it, but it’s like I have to do it in order to prove that it’s true, that I mean it. So, with these new songs—particularly the ones that were written about a relationship ending a year ago and I wrote over a year ago—I had to think about what it will mean to play them live and how that might feel. They are thematically appropriate for the record, which will be released in 2017, and obviously I’ve moved on and that’s an amicable situation right now, but it’s still a funny thing. I think I’ve been exploring the stigmatization around mental health and being open and honest about feelings, because that’s basically been my job. Everybody in this music scene is a little bit, I don’t want say “messed up” because that implies there’s something wrong with you, but we all feel a little messed up and maybe that’s why we do art.

I recently read this Alain de Botton book and it changed my life. He said that “Art is there for you when love stops being there for you.” I was like, “Oh my gosh, true.” Yeah, so being honest about those really dark things, like saying, “I feel disappointing, I feel like I’m nothing,” is important. I think about that when I start to censor myself. That was why I ended up leaving “Rejoice” on my previous record. Sometimes you need to inhabit an idea or a feeling in order to transcend it. The thing that you’re most afraid is the very thing you have to be bravest about divulging.

It seems like a more more popular human compulsion, particularly among songwriters, to document our own darkness than it is to articulate happiness. As someone who is known for writing beautifully sad songs, what do you make of that?

I remember a comment someone made about Ben Gibbard from Death Cab for Cutie: “Oh, he got happier and stopped writing good songs.” I was like, “What a grotesque thing to say.” How awful is it that our culture is geared in such a way. I think there’s inherent worth in all art and I never criticize the formal quality of art as long as there is genuine emotion there, but we’ll tolerate all kinds of cheesy heartbreak-related art just because of the subject matter. It’s much more difficult to pull off a joyful song. I’m always afraid that the public will scorn songs about happiness out of a disbelief that it is genuine. I’m interested in talking about joy, but it’s difficult and you don’t want to be clumsy with it. I think of it more as, “I have joy.” That’s a really complex thing to unpack. But I think articulating joy is important. I’m thinking of songs by people like the B-52s. There is this Australian artist called Alex Lahey who was a song where the chorus is just, “Let’s go out and have fun tonight.” It’s almost like you can hear the tongue-in-cheek irony of there’s mundanity in the grind of life and then this person is writing a song that’s just parodying a go-out-party song. It’s really cool.

It’s like it’s somehow less embarrassing to have an emotional meltdown in public than it is to be really honest about your happiness in a non-ironic way.

I think what’s so crazy is that for so many people I know—myself included—it’s this thing of when you’re acutely aware of the suffering of everything around you, it seems like happiness is a lack of decorum. Does that make sense?

For me, 2016 was a lot about learning, both good things and bad. I’m learning a lot about joy—joy as something different from happiness. Because happiness is a temporary space, an emotion, but joy, I think, is something different. It’s like a disposition that you choose to adopt. It’s all right to allow yourself that. I read a lot of philosophy, so I’m always thinking things like, “I want to be the platonic ideal of a human and do what is ethically asked of me by my existence.” Maybe that means not only writing sad songs. Maybe that means expressing joy. I’m still learning how to do that.

We went on a tour and I was reading Ethics by Bonhoeffer because I am a huge nerd and I was just like, “I’ll never be a good person.” Then one of my good friends was like, “Do you think God hates joy?” I was like, “No I don’t, I don’t think God hates joy.” She said, “So, if you have everything to be happy about, why won’t you display that as an image of hope instead of a depiction of suffering, because you can’t get on stage and talk about hope if you have no hope. You can’t go on stage and talk about joy as a destination—not just an unachievable goal—if you have no joy, so let yourself have joy.” You know how sometimes people say a simple explanation to you for something and you feel like a total idiot? I was just like, “I guess you’re right.”

I still struggle with anxiety. For the longest time on tour I would have panic attacks before almost every show. Performing is scary, and there’s a lot going on in there—”in there” being my brain. So while we were on tour in Australia it felt like I was always waiting for another shoe to drop, and when it didn’t I felt like I could just cherish the fact that I’m legitimately enjoying what is happening in my life and I’m excited to talk to people.

I can be a positive force. I can interact with people and I don’t look like a brooding crazy person. I’m smiling, I’m happy, and I’m getting to hug them. There was one show in particular where I was starting a song that there was a girl in the front of the stage who yelled out, “This is my song!” I thought it was funny because I’d only ever heard someone say that when they were at a bar and a song came on the jukebox, but I loved that she said that. I had this really cheesy thought like, “You know what? It is.” It’s not mine anymore. I was like, “It is your song, girl. This is for you. I hope you enjoy it.” She was stoked. Instead of feeling guilty that people like my music or feeling like I don’t deserve it or I haven’t earned it, I’m just happy that my job is that I stand on a stage and I look out on a whole bunch of eyeballs and we get to share this thing.

After the whirlwind success of Sprained Ankle, was it weird to finally be home again and working on music? My biggest fear is that anyone thinks that I’m anything other than amazed and grateful that I get to be a musician. Like, every day I wake up astonished by that. I think generally the amount of reward you get in your occupation mirrors the amount of sacrifice it requires. I needed to take some time to not be a ghost in my real life, to see my family and visit my partner, and just be radio silent for a while.

I write a lot on tour, which is weird because I used to think I couldn’t get into the right head space on tour to write songs, but then eventually touring just becomes your norm and I really have to be writing, so you just adapt. I’ll make little voice memos in the car and listen to them and write lyrics while I’m walking around. Once I got back home I rented this studio space and did a whole bunch of demos. We spent almost 12 hours in the studio every day. Hearing the demos outside of my head was really good for me. I’d been worrying myself by thinking, what if the new songs are too different? What if they are too much the same? What if everyone is disappointed? I felt the weight of expectation start to make me afraid that I couldn’t do it. I was, “It’s all going to be crap, everyone’s going to hate it.” Then once I got into the recording process things changed.

I was recording with my friend Calvin Lauber, who is in a band from Memphis called Pillow Talk. He’s in the scene and I’ve known him since I was 13 years old, and he happens to do recording and engineering as well as just play around in bands. It felt just so comfortable that I lost track of the hours and it was kind of like one of those moments, “Oh yeah, I love just the process of making art and I could stay here for another 12 hours just experimenting and, like, shaping this thing.” It brought me back to the reason why I ever did this in the first place. You have to be able to reconnect to the joy of making the thing that you make. It’s easy to get distracted from that.

I was so grateful that I felt comfortable enough to come back and make my music in Memphis. I moved back here at the beginning of the year to be closer to my family. I love my city. I have, like, Drake levels of love for my city. It felt good to be here. Once the demos were done and I was listening back to some of it, I had this weird feeling. I’m hyper-critical of my own work, which most artists probably are, but I had the strange sensation of thinking,“This is how it feels to be proud of something that I made.” I realized that as long as I am proud and I feel like I say what I want to with the narrative of this record, I am able to separate myself from being so concerned with, “What if people hate it?” Even if they hate it, I’ll still know that I’ve done my best. It’s all such a fifth grade classroom poster—Just Do Your Best!—but that’s truly the best and most profound advice.

Given the nature of your music, do people project a kind of “tortured artist” thing onto you? And how do you circumvent that?

When I’m on stage I try to think about things before I just rush in and say something silly... but I’m also quite silly. That being said, I’m not a Lorde or a Taylor Swift. I’m not someone who is playing stadiums and who has all these eyeballs on them. I don’t think I’m expected to be a role model. I’m not at that level. Still, people often take the slices of life represented in the songs and expand that to represent my total personhood. I think another task of mine is unifying Julien of life with Julien of the record, which often entails saying dorky, cheesy, positive things and making bad jokes on stage. Sometimes it goes over well, sometimes it’s like crickets in the audience and people are like, “What’s going on? This is too much of an emotional pendulum!” and they look freaked out. Then I just play my songs instead of making more lame jokes. I think merely by existing and refusing to give in to the persona of brooding tortured artist, you prove the point of you do not have to be sad all the time. You do not have to be defined by your sadness. I think about these things when I write songs and when I play live shows. I am trying to break the spell, in some way, that when you see someone up on stage singing sad songs that there is more to them than that. Sometimes you can’t help but be perceived as a kind of persona, but why not be a persona that’s actually realistic? I’d rather do that, instead of just posing over here in the window sill with my copy of Rilke and looking really bummed out. That isn’t me.

Recommended by Julien Baker:

Things that are inspiring to me right now...

The novel Gilead by Marilynne Robinson (a recommendation from the ever-wise Lucy Dacus)

The poetry of Beyza Ozer, a poet recommended by Morgan Martinez, editor of Hooligan Mag (an inspiring person in her own right)

The art of Kazuo Shiraga

The bands PWR BTTM and Camp Cope; their music, their social commentary, their unapologetic commitment to change through art, honestly just them as people, all of it

The paintings and zines of Ariel Baldwin, great pal/Memphis-native/Chicago-resident, makes some really provocative and powerful art about healing.

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#found this in my drafts from june??#a really phenomenal interview btw #and a lucy mention of course #julien baker #2017 #february 2017 #interviews #the creative independent #archival

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