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mbat · 2 months ago

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i literally read the book of bill days ago but its only now kinda hitting me how fucked ford and bills whole thing was though cause ford literally talks about being so unable to sleep (to try to keep bill away), and when sleep inevitably caught up to him, he would wake up to his body abused and things messed with and he just couldnt seem to find an escape (and he literally didnt get to truly escape until 30 years later)

(also keeping people awake for unhealthily long periods of time is another tactic used to mess with and control people because of how it impairs brain function)

listing off the things we see in those few pages in the book of bill:

i mean, punching and scratching at a steel door for hours would be so damaging to your hands and probably hurt like hell for at least 2 days after. then bill says he was hitting fords head against a wall, though its said in a post-it as if its a joke, but he also isnt exactly above doing that, and honestly he says most things like its a joke.

i also dont need to say 'bill really doesnt know how to take no for an answer' because he makes that very clear in literally any interaction we see with him.

bill literally puts a venomous snake near ford while fords asleep, which could have killed him if he wasnt lucky+skilled enough to deal with it.

he nearly gives ford hypothermia, and in the same action actively threatens ford with the idea of making him jump off of a high spot, and like ford says, doesnt do it just so he can send a message to ford about how hes the one in control.

he gets ford in trouble with not only the law, but also with other people that are probably not very happy with him after. he mutilates fords body in several ways, and i dont think i need to go into detail on them because theyre... so ew. and he even exposes part of fords body to the world. like, its just taking his shirt off, but thats still showing off his body in a way that he didnt agree to or want

and then he attempts to (or purposefully fails to) call stan, using fords voice to threaten suicide and tell stan that ford never loved him.

and he punctuates it with a final power move, in a hallucination that he creates, hes messing with stans memories and making him feel like his body was basically about to implode

and like. okay, we all joke about toxic old man yaoi, and its a good joke and toxic old man yaoi is great and its an interesting ship, but holy fuck.

like. to say the absolute least, that had to be so, so deeply violating. its no wonder that when we see ford in the past, when he finally contacts stan, he looks like hes on the verge of shattering into a million pieces. he just went through, and still wasnt yet out of, some deeply abusive shit.

like... everything coming out lately both in this book and what ive heard is on the website, mixed with what we already knew from the show itself... the stans are both so, so fucking tragic dude. their whole lives were thrown away over things that really didnt even need to be the way they were, and then they both get into situations that are pretty damn screwed, and those situations follow them for the rest of their lives. its basically a miracle that things worked out in the end for them.

i dont really have a point, i just had to talk about all that. i read almost all of the book of bill in one sitting, and while i was really enjoying it, i was also getting kind of tired of sitting in one spot only doing this one thing for several hours straight. i still felt a lot of the emotional bits of it of course, but man this part specifically just really didnt hit me until now.

i mean, to say the absolute least, i know what its like to feel violated in a similar way, though not anywhere near to the extent of what he went through at all. someone get that man some therapy got damn

#my post #gravity falls #billford #// abuse ment #abuse tw #<- i dont really know the tags to use so if anyone sees this and feels that i didnt do enough. i can add more #long post #BY THE WAY THIS IS NOT A BILL HATE POST IF THAT EVEN MAKES SENSE #like fuck that dude for being so fucked up but also hes still such a fascinating and honestly fun character.#hes not a real person so its not like im being like 'oh but hes so charming so idc that he did all that'#like i very much care that he did all that but hes also. still just a fictional character #and yet again i repeat the sentiment: holy fuck i cant believe disney approved this book #they really said. 'this is one of our most beloved non-movie franchises #the creator wants to write another book in the series but this time its for mature audiences #and hes going to write out how the beloved villain of the show and one of the most important and beloved characters are in a deeply abusive #relationship. this is now an approved part of the disney brand!'#again i dont disapprove. i think this is a great addition.#but im so shocked that this was approved by 'the owl house doesnt fit our brand' disney.#i still refuse to stop believing that disney was just being homophobic about the owl house btw idc what anyone says #also no i wont go into detail on how i relate. but the connections are there and its.. wow.

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tickle-bugs · 11 months ago

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Pre-Flight Checks

@allytheally: hi :) here's a prompt: you reblogged this thing a while ago about the seatbelts on aircraft (one on the shoulder, waist, and individual ones for the thighs) (https://www.tumblr.com/tickle-bugs/715247149506609152/hey-there-i-work-with-fighter-jets-super-hornets?source=share) and I think it'd be great if you wrote something incorporating this idea... like maybe lee!hangman and ler!rooster or lee!mav and ler!iceman and/or ler!slider? honestly any pairing would be cool

“Gooooood mornin’, Rooster.” The heavy impacts of boots on the stepladder send Bradley’s eye twitching. Hangman’s presence has a volume the way bright light slowly wears on the eyes.

“What do you want?”

“Me? I just came over to help with your pre-flight checks.” Hangman grins, cocksure. A sliver of sunshine lights up his eyes over the edge of his aviators.

“I’m clear, but thanks.” Bradley gives a little ‘shoo’ motion with his hands.

“Lemme give it a second opinion.” Hangman hoists himself up to get a better view of the cockpit. He makes a big show of scanning over the switches and buttons and humming in thought.

“Knock yourself out.” Bradley snorts and turns away. Hangman’s indecipherable muttering falls easily away under the buzz of his brain. He double and triple checks everything, noting the feel of each switch and knob under his practiced hands. Finding the rhythm of his plane is half the ritual.

Wiggling fingers fit suddenly into the curve of Bradley’s waist and he barks out a laugh, knees jerking against the straps holding him.

He blinks at Hangman. Hangman grins at him.

“Don’t--” Bradley dives to grab his hands, but the seatbelts, ever-dutiful, wrench him back into place.

“Oh, now that sounds like you’ve got somethin’ loose. No pilot should be making that noise.” Hangman tuts, but he doesn’t stop, just lets his stupid hands do their stupid crawl across his stupidly sensitive stomach. Bradley lets out a giggly shriek and tries to fold in half.

“Oh, Mav wasn’t kidding. This is my lucky day.”

“Youuuu--” Whatever half-baked insult Bradley was aiming for is smothered by his own laughter.

“Meeeee. Say, are you ticklish anywhere else? Gotta catalogue this for future use. Scream once for yes or twice for no.” Hangman tazes his sides and Bradley’s voice cracks around his laughter.

He’s going to die in this plane. He better die in this plane, otherwise he’s going to gut Hangman like a fish.

…No, he won’t.

Bradley manages to plant his hand square on Hangman’s face and start pushing, and the ultimatum between continuing the torment or falling onto concrete makes Hangman finally, blessedly let go.

“Seems like everything’s in order. Pleasant skies, Rooster.” Hangman pats his shoulder and hops down out of sight.

In his mind’s eye, he’s shaking Hangman by the shoulders until his brain falls out of his ears. In practice, he’s turning his burning face and shy half-smile back towards the controls with hopes of killing both.

…

“Mornin’, Bradshaw.” Hangman pops up like a gopher. Bradley jumps and nearly flips his lounge chair.

“Seresin.” He exhales tightly through his nose. He stays very still—maybe he can still salvage the last throes of the sun-warmed nap he was finding his way towards.

“You seem tense.” Hangman cocks his head in something that passes for concern. The rushing ocean suddenly sounds more like an omen.

“There’s no one else around for you to bother right now?” Bradley leans up on his elbows to search for the other Daggers. He can hear Fanboy laughing somewhere, he thinks, but Hangman’s giant head blotting out the sun is the only thing he can see.

“Nope!” Hangman makes a big show of cracking his knuckles and stretching his fingers. Bradley’s eyes widen.

“Don’t you dare.”

“You’ll have to be more specific. Don’t what?” The expression that Hangman generates overshoots innocence by a country mile.

“Tickle me, you asshole.” Bradley winds an arm around his torso and scrambles up in his lounge chair. The fluttery kick of anticipation slaps a smile straight across his face.

“I can’t believe you fell for that.”

“Fell for--”

Bradley pauses as it dawns on him. Watching it dawn on Hangman is worse--his entire face brightens with mischief.

Bradley starts stammering through a protest and giggling through another, but Hangman’s kneeling over him before any of it becomes coherent. He flails hard enough to send them both tumbling into the sand. Never in his life has he been more grateful to be alone, if only to keep the pitch of his laughter between him and the menace causing it.

He makes a note to keep his shirt on at the beach.

…

Maybe a week or so of this puts Bradley in a…strange headspace. Distracted.

Touch is nice, but there’s more of it lately, enough to make him notice and crave its absence in a way he hadn’t before. When Phoenix leans into his side or Fanboy claps his shoulder, he misses the warmth of their touch after. Even Hangman’s utter nonsense sets a gentle buzz into his chest. It’s dizzying.

He’s so lost in the ache of it that Mav catches on, and it kicks solidly into that tangle of ‘complicated shit’ between them that he keeps putting away for increasingly rainer days. He’d gotten so used to Mav tiptoeing around him as if he were fragile that the first gentle touch on the shoulder almost shatters him.

The Daggers meet for a barbecue at Mav’s and Bradley shows up early with a bottle of Ice’s favorite Pinot. Things may be complicated, but the mushy smiles on Ice and Mav’s faces are not. It’s nice, putting ‘complicated’ in motion towards being something else. Something lighter.

Later into the night, Bradley’s got his feet kicked up on the couch in the hangar and the radio crooning slowly in his ear.

He watches Mav and Ice dance--more of a sway, really, as they banter. Mav’s got a playful tilt to his smile, one that suggests he’s being as much a menace as he’s visibly in love. Bradley smiles and hums along, halfheartedly wondering what Mav might be pestering Ice with.

“This seat taken?” Not waiting for an answer, Hangman picks up his ankles and takes their spot. Bradley brings his heels down hard on his thigh. He gets a swat on the ankle for his trouble. Still, the weight of Hangman’s arm on his legs is comforting. Solid.

A room full of people to bother, yet Hangman finds him. Hm.

“Why’re you so obsessed with me lately?” Bradley nudges him with his ankle. Hangman’s eyebrows raise.

Well. He’d meant to say that with a bit more tact but it’s out there now, between them.

Hangman snorts softly and passes Bradley a beer. He pops the caps on both and pockets them. Probably donations for Coyote’s collection.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Bradshaw.” Hangman gives him an utterly complex and unreadable look before taking a swig of his beer. ‘Complex’ and ‘unreadable’ are not words that belong anywhere near him.

“You didn’t answer the question.” Bradley frowns.

“It’s a stupid question.”

“Seresin.” Bradley leans forward to smack his shoulder.

“Alright, fine.” Hangman exhales tightly. “You’ve been moping around like a dark fuckin’ cloud these past few weeks and we couldn’t figure out how to get you out of it. We ran out of ideas and eventually Mav realized he couldn’t hide from us anymore, so he coughed up a solution. Something he said we could try, and I quote, ‘at risk of your lives’. Never thought he’d suggest tickling, but--”

“You went to Mav?”

“Yeah, and Mav—“ Hangman imitates the way Bradley’s voice cracks— “told Phoenix to try it if all else failed, she told Bob, Bob told me, and now we’re here. And it worked.”

Bradley’s brain stalls out. He sits up, bracing his elbows on his knees. He drops his face into his hands.

“Oh my god. So everyone knows?” He peeks through his fingers. Hangman shrugs.

“Well, I don’t think Fanboy was paying much attention.” He scratches idly at his jaw.

“Mav said if all else failed. I didn’t—you guys didn’t try anything else.” Bradley fiddles with the label on the bottle.

Hangman raises his eyebrow in the precise shape of ‘oh really?’.

“Remember when Bob tried to buy you soup? Or when Payback made a fool of himself trying to sing Great Balls of Fire? Or when Fanboy tried to introduce you to Star Trek? Or—“

Oh.

For maybe the only time in his life, Hangman snaps his jaw shut. Bradley furrows his brow.

“Look…point is, you keep making that exact face you’ve got right now, and concerned parties asked me to investigate.” Hangman swirls his finger around Bradley’s face. He swats it away on habit, but fondness bubbles in the base of his throat.

“Concerned parties?” A smile sneaks under his mustache.

“Yeah, Phoenix and the rest of them were worried. Not me though.” Hangman takes a long, incriminating swig from his bottle.

“Not you?” Bradley tilts his head teasingly.

“Nope. I’m a neutral party. Like Sweden.”

“It’s Switzerland, dumbass.” Bradley knocks shoulders with him. Something about Hangman’s smile tells him he already knew that.

“Sure. Whatever.” Hangman throws his arm across the back of the couch. His fingers brush Bradley’s arm. The fondness settles into a resonant hum deep in Bradley’s chest.

“You’ve got your shit with Mav and your past. I get it. But some of us would like to see you smile more than twice a week.” Hangman gestures with his bottle. His movements are loose in the practiced Seresin way, but the care on his face is stunningly plain.

“Some of us?” Bradley grins. Hangman narrows his eyes.

“Concerned parties.” His cheeks grow rosy even as he scowls.

“You are obsessed with me and I’m telling Phoenix.” Bradley pats his shoulder and makes a break for it. A fist grabs a handful of his collar.

“Like hell you are!”

The (thankfully empty) bottles clatter to the floor as Hangman wrestles an already-laughing Bradley back down to the couch. He tries not to think too hard about hearing Mav cheer in the background.

…

Bradley does not start fights. He does not. He finishes them.

He slips past Phoenix and Bob, nodding in passing, and ducks up to Hangman’s Super Hornet. He can feel their eyes on him--especially Bob, he’s got a killer stare for someone so quiet--but he ignores it.

It’s not a fight, not really, but if he thinks about what he’s doing too hard he’s going to lock himself in a supply closet somewhere.

Bradley hops up the steps alongside the cockpit.

“Rooster! To what do I owe the pleasure of seeing your ugly mug?” Hangman grins and bats his eyelashes.

“I heard you were challenging Mav. Wanted to get a good look at you before you spend the rest of the evening with your face to the tarmac.” Rooster holds up his fingers like a picture frame.

“Try not to miss me too much.” Hangman winks, insufferable as always.

“Miss you? Every second you’re not buzzing around down here is a second of peace.” Bradley reaches up and knocks on his helmet.

“Would you kindly get the fuck off my plane?” Hangman swats lazily at him. Bradley bats his hands away.

“Before you go, just thought I’d see how your pre-flight checks are going?”

Hangman goes rigid. Bradley grins evilly at him.

“Bradshaw, don’t you fuckin’—“

Bradley fumbles with Hangman’s hands and flight equipment until he can jam his fingers right into the soft parts of his side. Hangman yelps and nearly jumps out of his skin. The seatbelts ensure there’s nowhere for him to go, and the clacking of the buckles only spurs Bradley on.

“I thought you’d put up more of a fight than this, Hangman.” Bradley tuts and shakes his head, worming his fingers up under straps to get at his ribs. Hangman well and truly shrieks.

“I am g-going to kill you!” Hangman shakes with the force of his laughter, folded awkwardly into his seatbelts. He shoves uselessly at Bradley’s chest.

“And I’m never gonna let this go. Think I could get you to do that again, or are you a one hit wonder?” Bradley squeezes quickly at Hangman’s thigh. His hands slap down hard on top of Bradley’s and he starts cackling his way to incoherency.

Bradley raises his eyebrow and times the squeezes to every escape attempt. It’s incredibly entertaining to listen to Hangman reinvent the squeal. He wonders if the other Daggers know about this yet.

The sound of a throat clearing nearly sends Bradley toppling backwards off the plane. Strong hands heave him upright and he turns--Maverick’s eyes crinkle around the edges of his sunglasses.

“Appreciate you getting a head start on destroying him, Rooster, but I believe that’s my job.” Mav pats him on the shoulder. Bradley goes to duck away, but Hangman makes a swipe for his sides, and he can’t let that stand. He leans back into the cockpit and tickles Hangman’s ribs until he’s screeching between hiccups and an interesting shade of red.

“Aren’t you ssssupposed to help me?” Hangman crumples in around Bradley’s hands, wriggling like a worm on a hook.

“Help you? No. Teach you? Sure. Wheels up in two minutes. Hopefully you’ll learn a thing or two about getting your ass handed to you.” Mav pulls Bradley back by the shoulder. He lets it happen. Hangman thunks his head back against his seat, chest heaving.

“Bold words, Pops. We’ll see who comes out on top.” He clicks his tongue and winks. Insufferable bastard.

“See you in the skies, Hangman.” Mav pokes Hangman’s stomach.

…

The lounge at Top Gun hums with quiet chatter through the evening as the Daggers share drinks. Bradley’s tucked against the wall with Phoenix and Bob under his arms. He’s half watching Fanboy and Payback fumble through a game of pool, half listening to a story Phoenix is telling, and fully content to lose himself in the sound of her voice.

The door slams open, welcoming a sweaty and disgruntled Hangman to the room. Scattered laughter and teasing applause kicks up among the other Daggers. He gives the entire room the finger.

“Yeah, laugh it up. I was off my game.” He pushes his hair out of his eyes. Coyote offers him a pity beer. He takes it.

“I wonder why.” Bradley chuckles. Phoenix swats his chest. Hangman locks eyes with him, absolutely feral. Bradley goes to make a run for it, but Phoenix hooks her arms under his. He could break her grip if he really tried, but…

When Hangman barrels towards him and tackles him over the back of the couch, Bradley can’t say he doesn’t deserve it.

#ok this was supposed to be mostly lee!hangman but i started thinking about bradley and blacked out #hope you still like it tho!! hangman still gets got as he should #idc if you tag this as ship btw #background icemav bc they are married #special thanks to chock who reminded me that writing is fun and i like to do it <3 #my fics #top gun maverick #ticklish!rooster #ticklish!hangman #bradley 'rooster' bradshaw #jake 'hangman' seresin #not tagging the other daggers they're barely here <3 #idk how I feel about this fic still but it was fun to write

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