#like I’ve been terrified of natural disasters

[amelia-mariee]

“do i actually want to do a total 180 and switch career paths to the job these people have in this movie/show i just watched, or do i just want a friend group like that” is a constant thought in my mind

[tgmsunmontue]

Online & Anonymous 14/16

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

>>Bradley chatting (bold and italics)

>>Jake chatting (italics)

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

2019 – Bradley

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

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

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

…            …            …

>>I’m in Germany.

>>Huh. I’m in Japan.

>>Oh. I like Japan.

>>We’ll have to go together sometime.

>>Wait.

>>What are you doing in Germany?

>>What do you mean?

>>I’m deployed here?

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

>>You let it slip years ago.

>>Oh. Shit. Did I?

>>I didn’t realize.

>>Yeah.

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

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

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

>>Of course you did.

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

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

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

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

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

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

>>Weirdly, I have. Why?

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

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

…            …            …

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

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

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

                “Today sir?”

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

                “Thank you sir.”

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

…            …            …

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

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

                “Hangman. You look… good.”

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

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

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

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

                He snorts.

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

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

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

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

                “I love this song!”

                Right.

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

…            …            …

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

                “Hey! Seresin! Wait up!”

                “What do you want Rooster?”

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

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

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

                “Anything else you want to apologize for Bradshaw?”

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

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

                “Anything else?”

                Bradley blinks.

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

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

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

                “I like this shirt.”

                “Of course you do. Hmm.”

                “Are you going to apologize to me?”

                “For what?”

                “For calling me slow?”

                “Nothing wrong with slow Rooster…”

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

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

…            …            …

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

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

                “I didn’t punch him.”

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

                “I actually went and apologized to him.”

                Both her and Bob blink.

                “Seriously?”

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

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

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

                “Yeah. Okay. Good luck with that.”

                “What she said,” Bob says.

…            …            …

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

…            …            …

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

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

                “Would it matter if I did?”

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

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

                “Been here the whole time.”

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

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

…            …            …

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

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

>>Everything okay?

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

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

>>Um. Actually yeah.

>>Once. Years ago.

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

>>Was he hot?

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

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

>>You and your moral compass.

>>I’m rolling my eyes at you.

>>I’m not a saint.

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

>>Got to try being a decent human right?

>>I guess.

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

>>Yeah. I guess you do.

…            …            …

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

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

                “Exactly!”

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

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

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

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

                “Lieutenant.”

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

                “What’s that supposed to mean?”

                “Rooster.”

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

                “That’s enough.”

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

                “Lieutenant, that’s enough!”

                “That’s enough.“

                “You son of a bitch!”

                “Hey, come on!”

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

                “That’s enough.”

…            …            …

>>I have had an awful fucking day.

>>Tell me something to cheer me up?

                He doesn’t get an answer.

…            …            …

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

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

…            …            …

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

                Maverick.

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

                Well shit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…            …            …

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

>>The one with cancer?

>>Yeah?

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

>>Would you give me your mobile number?

>>Why?

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

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

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

>>I feel very alone.

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

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

                “Hangman?”

                “Rooster.”

                “Uh. What are doing here?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

                Bradley blinks.

                “Um. Okay.”

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

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

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

                “Yeah yeah, give me a minute.”

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

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

…            …            …

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

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

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

                “Hey, morning.”

                “Morning. How are you feeling?”

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

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

                “What are you doing?”

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

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

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

                Weird.

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

                It’s perfect.

…            …            …

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

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

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

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

…            …            …

Dear Bradley,

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

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

She asked Maverick to pull your papers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Never forget how loved you are Bradley.

By all of your parents.

Ice

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

…            …            …

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

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

>>I’m in the Dagger Squad.

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

                JAS.

                Born in 1986.

                Texan.

                God he’s an idiot.

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

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

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

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

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

>>Answer the door Jas.

>>Give me one good reason.

>>I love you.

>>Now please answer the door.

                “Hi.”

                “Hi.”

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

                “Thank you.”

                “Uh. You’re welcome?”

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

                “Sure.”

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

                “Um. Yeah.”

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

                “Can I hug you?”

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

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

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

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

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

                “Always a little slow Bradshaw…”

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

                “Nope. Probably not.”

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

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

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

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

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

                “Worth a try…”

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

                “So… what was your first clue?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

                “Okay… then what?”

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

                “Nick.”

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

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

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

                “What? Never...”

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

                “Not about this,” Bradley stresses.

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

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

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

                “I swear I had no idea.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

                “Well, it has been about four hours.”

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

                Jake makes a choking sound.

                “You’re actually… family?”

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

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

                “Are you sure?”

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

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

                “Jesus Bradley…”

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

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

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

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

                “Or we can just… go to bed.”

                “Are you sure?”

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

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

                “What’s your middle name?”

                “What?”

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

                “Jacob Andrew Seresin.”

                “Bradley Peter Bradshaw. Nice to meet you.”

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

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

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

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

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

                “Yeah. Lead the way…”

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

                “Okay?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                “I love you.”

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

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

                “Off off, get them off…”

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

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

                “Demanding.”

                “Damn right.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                “Oh god… Jake. Fuck.”

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

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

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

                “I love you so much.”

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

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

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

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

                “Damn right I do.”

                “Love you Jake…”

                “God you’re a sap…”

                “Only with you.”

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

…            …            …

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

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

                “Well, I’m going anyway.”

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

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

                “Two-fifteen? That’s impossible.”

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

                “Final attack point. Maverick’s inbound.”

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

                “Popping in three, two, one.”

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

                “Bombs away.”

                Seconds tick by.

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

                “Damn.”

                Damn indeed.

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

…            …            …

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

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

…            …            …

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

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

                “Choose your two foxtrot teams.”

                “Payback and Fanboy. Phoenix and Bob.”

                “And your wing man?”

                “Rooster.”

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

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

…            …            …

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

                God.

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

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

                He hopes Jake will be okay with him being unemployed.

…            …            …

                “You all right?”

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

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

                “What the hell?”

                “What are you doing here?”

                “What am I doing here?

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

                “I saved your life!”

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

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

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

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

                “So what’s the plan?”

                Maverick is insane.

                That’s the plan.

                No sane person would think this was somehow feasible.

                “You’re not serious.”

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

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

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

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

                “Let’s find out.”

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

                “There’s guys up there, Mav.”

                “Yeah.”

                “There’s more over there.”

                “Okay. Let’s start running.”

                “Yeah, run. Run.”

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

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

                “Yeah.”

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

                “Holy shit!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                “Mav, can we outrun these guys?”

                “Not their missiles and guns.”

                “Then it’s a dogfight.”

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

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

                “But you are here,” Mav counters.

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

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

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

                “I’m sorry, Goose.”

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

                BOOM.

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

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

                “Hey, Hangman, you look good.”

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

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

                He’s alive.

                Nothing else matters.

…            …            …

                Having working engines to land matter.

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

                Fuck this shit.

…            …            …

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

                “You good?”

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

                “Chalked yourself another kill.”

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

                “Mav has five. Makes him an ace.”

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

                “Thank you for saving my life.

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

                “You need to go to the fucking sickbay.”

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

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

                “Come on, take me to sickbay.”

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

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

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

                “I thought you were taking me to sickbay?”

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

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

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

                “Your idiot though. I hope?”

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

                “Thought you were going to kiss me?”

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

…            …            …

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

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

                “Couple of days.”

                “Over a decade.”

                They look at each other and both pull a face.

                “It's complicated.”

                Maverick looks between them and simply nods his head.

…            …            …

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

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

                “What?”

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

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

                “What?”

                “Yeah.”

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

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

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

                “Natasha!”

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

                “Fuck.”

 …           …            …

>>I need to tell you something.

>>Through Grindr?

>>Yeah well, it’s relevant I guess.

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

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

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

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

                “Yeah, really.”

                “Oh.”

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

                “Good. Just the way I like it.”

                “Me too.”

2019 - Jake's POV

[copperbadge]

[ID: Three photographs of the famous Pompeii “body casts”, plaster casts of those who died in the eruption and were preserved in the ash. Top, a man lies on his back, the bump of a belt visible around his waist; the top of his head has not been cast, and through his mouth and the top of his head you can see his teeth and skull. Lower left, a small dog, similar to a whippet, lies on its side, feet stretched above it, head tucked in near its haunches. Lower right, a cast of a child lying on their side, with an unusually expressive and visible face, deep-set eyes, a wide nose, and a slightly-open mouth.] 

The second half of the Pompeii exhibit at the MSI is not exclusively given over to “body casts” but that’s clearly the heart of it; one of the larger rooms is a series of platforms lined in red with plaster casts of those who died in the eruption. 

The first body you see is the one in the top image -- “Mold of a man with teeth”. One of the most moving and strange aspects of the Pompeii body casts, I’ve always thought, is that because of the way the casts were made -- into voids where a human body once lay before decomposing -- many of the original casts have the skeleton inside of them. With this body, you can see the skull, teeth, toe bones, and finger bones emerging from the plaster. It comes across as rather nightmarish in person, but it’s also an intense reminder that these are casts of the bodies of once-living beings.

To my mind, the most touching and awful cast is of the dog; they theorize that his family left him behind to guard their home as they fled. The two rings you see below his ear are the studs of his collar. I know that the death of a dog shouldn’t be more tragic than the death of a human, but at least most humans understand what’s happening to them, and dogs don’t know. Poor beastie. You were a good dog. 

I was also struck by the cast of a child, one I’d never seen before and one with the most expressive face I’ve seen among the Pompeii casts. Most either don’t show faces or show very incomplete ones, but you can almost see the hair on that kid’s head.  

The tagline of the exhibit is something like “What it destroyed, it preserved,” because you have to reckon with Pompeii as a site of immense historical significance and a learning experience while at the same time being the record of a terrifying natural disaster and the thousands of deaths it caused. I think it’s for the best that the “learning about history” portion came first; it both made the deaths more poignant and also allowed you to enjoy that part without the shadow of destructions hanging quite so low. 

[olympeline]

(Third part of what I’ve decided to call my Catch the Queen omegaverse/cardverse USUK AU. Enjoy!)

Okay! Arthur is very knocked out so we are switching to Alfred’s POV for a bit. Our mysterious sunshine knight won his challenge with little effort thanks to his super strength and Arthur’s magic refusing to harm Alfred once he revealed himself to him. And - while Alfred was hugely disappointed that Arthur didn’t seem to remember him - that strange, magical reaction gave him hope. You see while Arthur had seemingly forgotten him, it’s not a mutual thing: Arthur is the one person Alfred could never forget.

Alfred was born into House Jones: a minor noble family of the Kingdom of Spades. His father died in battle, his mother in childbirth, and growing up Alfred only had his servants, tutors, and twin brother Matthew for company. While Mattie wanted to be a mage, Alfred always knew he was going to be a knight like his dad. Strong, athletic, and a natural leader: Alfred showed much early promise and his tutors were preparing him to become a squire when he was old enough. Life was good for Alfred despite not having parents. He had his twin, he had plenty of friends at school, and he was going to be the best Knight of Spades in the whole kingdom! A knight was a hero who defended the weak and saved them from bad things. Once Alfred learnt this, he never wanted to be anything else. At age seven he was a sunny, cheerful boy full of promise. Then disaster struck: Alfred became ill. A wasting, breathing sickness that soon left the formally strong, hearty boy white, wheezing and confined to bed. Whether it was always in him or he caught something, no one knew. Nobody could cure it - the healers and doctors left baffled - and Alfred’s life was officially ruined. Left bedbound to waste away while Matthew was sent away to mage school. His twin cried and begged to be allowed to stay, but the arrangements had already been made before Alfred got sick. Plus they wanted the Spare quickly sent away to safety now the Heir had a potentially infectious illness. Alfred was left alone too weak to do even the boring grammar and history lessons he used to hate.

Alfred spent months this way with no improvement and grew to despair. Putting on a brave face during the day but crying himself to sleep at night until his useless lungs choked. There seemed to be no hope left for Alfred of House Jones. Then, one day, a second bolt from the blue. Only this one was much more welcome than a mystery sickness: a thief broke into Alfred’s house. Specifically into Alfred’s bedroom. It was the middle of the day and Alfred was dozing after failing to eat his lunch. His newest pills made him feel too sick to eat, so the maid left a tray by his bedside in case he wanted it later. Alfred awoke to a sound and was stupified to see a stranger - frozen like a deer in headlights at being caught red handed - in the middle of stuffing bread, cheese, and meat into the ragged cloak he wore. The stranger was a boy about Alfred’s age or a little older. Blonde, green-eyed, filthy and thin, and smelling like he hadn’t bathed in a week. Alfred had no idea at the time but the runaway Spade Queen-in-Waiting had just tried to steal his lunch. Arthur was nine and had fled the palace after finding out what the future had in store for him as Queen. Yeah, the Royal Talk didn’t go well, lol. Arthur was terrified and determined not to let it happen. So he stole a set of servants’ clothes and ran away. Leaving the palace in chaos in his wake as the court officials tried to simultaneously mount a search whilst keeping Arthur’s flight a secret and avert a kingdom-wide panic. But life on the road was hard, particularly for a pampered royal, and it wasn’t long before Arthur was desperate enough for food to scramble up some vines to a second storey window, chasing the scent of fresh cooked meat.

Alfred would have yelled, pounced on the thief, and tried to wrestle him to the ground in the past. As he was post-illness, it was all he could do to try and yell at him to put his lunch down. Even that left him doubled over and wheezing till tears ran down his face. The sound summoned the maids and Alfred’s live in nurse and by the time Alfred could see again, the thief had vanished. The nurse got him settled and the maids shut and locked the window, promising to call the constable. Alfred was left alone to ponder all that happened. He found himself strangely disappointed after the adrenaline faded. Excitement was hard to come by and he wished the encounter hadn’t ended so fast. Even if he couldn’t duel a wicked thief and catch him like a good, heroic knight. Just something that wasn’t his endless, normal routine was enough. Then Alfred’s nose caught that unwashed scent again and his heart skipped a beat. He called out as best he could for the thief to come out and show himself, or else! And the bed juddered as someone jumped and banged their head underneath, swore a word Alfred had once been switched for using, and then scrambled out gracelessly. The lunch thief stood before him and he and Alfred stared at each other for a long moment. Then the thief’s gaze drifted to the fresh plate of food the maid brought and Alfred heard his stomach rumble. The thief blushed scarlet under the dirt and glowered at Alfred as if daring him to comment. Alfred said he could have the food if he wanted. The thief stared at him and Alfred promised he wouldn’t tell. The boy looked hungry. The way he fell on the food told Alfred he was wrong: the thief wasn’t hungry, he was starving.

Afterwards, Alfred told the boy his name and then asked him his. When the boy answered it was in a funny accent that Alfred could tell he was trying to conceal without success. He said his name was “Oliver” but stumbled over the three syllables in such a weird way that Alfred was immediately sure he was lying. He told the boy so and the boy snapped back that Alfred was wrong. Alfred called him a liar-liar-pants-on-fire. The boy called him stupid and a little kid. They devolved into arguing until the maid came back to scold Alfred for getting worked up, and the boy had to dive under the bed again. Once she left, the boy emerged and asked Alfred why he hadn’t told. Alfred shrugged and said he didn’t care about the food so it would be unfair if the boy was hanged for taking it. He asked the boy where he was from but the boy wouldn’t answer. He changed the subject by asking Alfred what was wrong with him. Alfred shrugged and muttered something noncommittal. He didn’t like talking about his sickness and a real life thief (even just a lunch one) was much more interesting. He said so and the boy blushed again and retorted haughtily that he wasn’t a thief. Alfred pointed out he was just caught stealing and the boy went even redder. It was cute so Alfred showed mercy and agreed when the boy (gazing at the floor) mumbled something about paying Alfred back one day when he could. Then the boy thanked him awkwardly for the food and said he had to go. Alfred told him - a little desperately - that he could have more food later if he came back again. Being sick was boring as hell on top of everything else with no Mattie to play with and his school friends’ parents too afraid Alfred was contagious to let them visit. The boy said sorry but he was on an important journey and had to go right away. Then he left through the window. Alfred tried to write Mattie a secret letter telling him all about the exciting thing that happened. But he was too weak to sit up and hold the pen for more than a couple of sentences. Alfred cried again that night. Buried deep under the covers where even his sharp eared maid couldn’t hear him. He wished the strange boy hadn’t left even if he was a smelly thief who called Alfred stupid in his weird accent. All those things were still better than being alone.

But it wasn’t to be when the boy thankfully proved himself a liar a second time and returned the very next day.

Alfred thought about all of this as he sat in the anteroom to the Queen’s chambers. Staring into space as awestruck servants scuttled around and bowed low to their soon-to-be King. Alfred, out of his armour and wearing his first ever set of royal clothes, didn’t notice them. Too busy remembering Arthur as he was as a child, and wondering what in the all-loving name of Spades he was going to say to him once Arthur woke up.

(End of part 3! Maaaan, this just keeps getting longer, huh? I can’t help it. I like this AU too much. I just want to flesh it out 😆)

[kalirarecs]

The Crack at the Heart of Everything - Fiona Fenn (novel)

(I got this ebook as a free ARC; it releases on November 12th 2024.)

This one will be as spoiler free as I can manage because this book was amazing and I don’t want to, well, spoil it.

(I treaded some of the same ground in a slightly more *gestures* form in a review you can read on Storygraph or LibraryThing.)

This is a dark-tinged fantasy, with an edge of (minor spoiler) post-apocalypse, with a queer romance which takes up space beautifully alongside a dramatic plot, and a very close focus - the entire book very much focuses on Orpheus, not because he’s a hero or a major player or a key figure (though he is) but because he’s him and we’re seeing the world through his eyes.

Y’all. Y’all, I don’t think I have read a better book handling trauma? Like. A lot of kinds of trauma, especially floating into the main line with other characters, but especially that dealing with deep childhood scars, also toxic friendships.

The story hurts, in many places, like weight on an old injury - something healed over but never forgotten. But also learning to take that ache and let it go.

(But it isn’t all that hard, achy examination - there’s lighthearted moments, laughter, teasing and breathless steps towards friendship, or romance, and the confusion they bring. There’s softer sorrows and wrenching grief, there’s, always, hope and moving forwards because what else are you going to do? What can you?)

It shows us a lot of hope even in dark, terrifying, seemingly-doomed spaces, and y’all that is so my jam.

Oh, and those other characters? Pretty much all the side characters felt like the main character of another story, who just happened to be intersecting Orpheus’ here. That is such a challenge to pull off, and it was great! (I’d really like to see Red’s background - and her friendship with Fenrir, and how it grew and their adventures together - and her future.)

So was the worldbuilding, which the author gave as the pieces showed on-page, giving us more that built on what we knew as more things happened and Orpheus learned more - as well as showing us things he already knows as they became relevant - allowing the reader to slowly weave together more of the history as well as the present of the world. It never felt out of place with amounts of detail or reveal or confusingly lacking.

The magic and the technology hit a nice balance of ‘yes that’s how that works, I see’ without tipping into ‘okay we did not need a treatise on it, I’ve lost what was going on before’. Orpheus’ Netherflame is fascinating, a little terrifying (even aside from the Hellbeasts!), and a very naturally-handled part of him in his actions, reactions, and senses.

We begin after a number of Major Happenings have, ah, happened, and past, because we aren’t following the drama of the world - we’re following when Orpheus’ world takes a sudden turn.

Orpheus who has in some ways been through a hell of a lot (no pun intended >.>) and in some ways has been very sheltered . . . and is now kicked away from that ‘shelter’ (for good or ill) and facing a lot more hell, and- Also a sunshiney tagalong of a hero trying to look after him, probably just to taunt him and kick him while he’s down, he’s sure, obnoxious handsome-

(Yes, it’s a grumpy x sunshine romance. Yes, Orpheus has no idea how feelings work.)

Orpheus’ view of the world gets a lot broader, very fast, and it hurts - it hurts him, shock and guilt and responsibility, and it hurts us, because there’s some very grim shit out there. (But it never feels grimdark or cruel for the sake of it, or ‘gritty’; there’s a lot of hope, and welcome from character who have their own struggles and triumphs going on, widening Orpheus’ experiences and his feelings.)

We begin very closely with Orpheus’ personal disaster, and as his understanding grows, it widens to the disaster facing the entire world - both that which has already happened, and the ways in which it could get so much worse - while keeping close in on Orpheus himself.

Every few chapters there’s one that’s an interlude to Orpheus’ past, (in chronological order) mainly his childhood with (now-Empress) Lore . . . and places where the reader can see the source of wounds Orpheus carries now, and even some he hasn’t . . . quite realised himself, yet, in the now.

There’s some twists and surprises, some of which are neatly foreshadowed and some of which really did take me by surprise - and those always came with an oh, ohhhh that fits realisation of settling into place when they did. Not once did something feel like an addition for shock value or similar.

Orpheus has to face a lot of rough realisations and decisions, and he struggles with them! He isn’t a hero, never thought of himself as such; but even when he struggles, even when he’s not sure what he’ll do, the reader can see the path he’ll choose and it hurts how hard he’s trying and what it costs him.

Fenrir, our sunshine, carries his own share of trauma (I think everyone does here, even our biggest villain; which is shown, as is how it led to said villainy . . . but not as an excuse or softening of the atrocities caused), but is that hero Orpheus knew he’d never be and maybe resents a little. There’s a hell of a lot more to him, we find along with Orpheus, and . . . more yet that there isn’t time or space or perspective for (locked in Orpheus’, of course) in the novel.

The romance builds slowly due largely to Orpheus having no idea how feelings work, his own or anyone else’s, really, and some very understandable hitches between that and the major dramatic plot elements. (My few agh points, shall we say, were very much people are agh, and didn’t stretch on too long.)

Also, the title? Super well chosen, weaves very well into the happenings, more and more so as we learn more.

I will not spoil it, but I was on the verge of tears for almost the last quarter of the book, anticipating the climax along with Orpheus, and the author surprised me pleasantly! (I did cry once during the book; it was not at the end, and it was a very well done moment of grief and loss as much as it hurt, and Orpheus’ raging reaction to it was . . . cathartic and painful and soothing at once.) I was surprised at how the main villain was handled, but it was not a disappointment (and at least/especially for Orpheus, may have been the best way it could have gone).

While the book stands alone well, it does say it’s book one of a series; I’m quite curious to see how Fiona Fenn continues to explore the world, and, hopefully, at least some of the characters I got so attached to or fascinated by here.

[redbullcateringfiction]

Chapter 8 -

Cantata

Arabella is the executive assistant for Mercedes Team Principal Toto Wolff. 10 years into her career, it looks like the tide is changing, and she's beginning to question her relationship with him. Is it something more, or nothing but an idea lingering in her head?

F/M, Fluff, Boss/Employee Relationship, Romance, Pining, Love, Slow Burn

Eight chapter below the cut or click here for AO3

Click here for the previous chapter on Tumblr, and click here for a list of all chapters

(Total: 34872 words thus far)

Where I wander: An opinion by the ‘bitch’

Thursday, March 12th, 2021 6:20 GMT

Author: Arabella Lazaar

Edited by: Jeffrey Martens and Shane Coughlan 

Editor’s note, March 12th, 2021: Arabella Lazaar is the former partner of Irish rock band Four Odd Bottles singer Cathal Lynch. Their 3 year relationship was not public knowledge until October 13th, 2019. 

If I were to recall every moment during our relationship, I would not question where I went wrong. 

Formula 1 is filled with huge personalities and names. There’s no doubt many fans could tell you how they imagine their favorite drivers’ to be, and I can assure you they would be 90% correct. Being in Formula 1 requires being surrounded by glass walls at all times. Your most intimate self is constantly on display. This was something I never enjoyed. Afterall, I suffer from agoraphobia. Seeing into the distance, and seeing the crowds of people is terrifying. I have forced myself to be in these situations. In God’s name, why?

I’ve always loved formula racing, but I never thought I could be an integral part of it. I never had the skills nor talent to be a driver or engineer. I, however, think I have quite the head on my shoulders. Micromanaging people and information became second nature to me. It’s a natural skill that one develops when their anxiety tells them to avoid everyone and everything. So, I saw an opportunity in Formula 1, and put my effort into joining a team. I set aside every fear I have to put my brilliance on the table instead. 

During that process, I learned that if I am constantly moving (as it is a job requirement), and hiding behind those big personalities, those glass walls become a comfort. I could be entirely isolated while surrounded by people, because no one cared about me, really. I could also be socializing with some of my favorite people. Above all else, I serve as an important cog in the well-oiled machine that is Mercedes-AMG. It was the dream I sought out. 

In 2016, I came upon Cathal Lynch, and our romance began to bud. Nothing new. Just another person to hide behind so I could continue to value my loneliness. This is the moment where I went wrong. Cathal had been correct from the beginning: There was no way to keep our relationship secret forever. We had two incredibly different opinions on this. I believed it could be managed for a long time. Until a wedding, at least. Cathal waited just days before asking if he could reveal me to the public. This became a constant item of discussion. In the meantime, every song Cathal released was a reflection of our relationship. The trips to Morocco to visit my extended family, our house in Brackley covered with his white cat’s hair, and of course, my career. Every time a song was written, and released, I would panic. It was all pieces of information that would lead people to me. The glass walls started to show their cracks. 

Then, in 2019, they finally crumbled. I was now a microcelebrity. Yes, I had spoken to a few Formula 1 magazines, but my Instagram had never been on television. This was an entirely new world for me. Cathal did not help me navigate this new world. The strain on our relationship was too large, and Cathal moved out of my home in Brackley just a week before the COVID-19 pandemic hit. This was 2 years ago now. With the collapse of the life I knew, I tried to embrace the disaster. Maybe I’m being dramatic, but when I looked around, all I saw was the shambles. 

Wherever I turned though, Cathal was there. 

And so I wonder, where can I wander? Cathal follows me everywhere. My job is micromanagement, and Cathal’s seems to be micromanaging me. Every song seems to center around some sort of belief I was using him. I will not apologize for something I did not do though. 1 break up album is understandable. 2 break up albums is uncomfortable. 2 albums and 5 singles is a deliberate assault on a person’s life. I don’t know how he walked away from this so hurt, and I would like to apologize. I would also like to never see him again. 

Perhaps, that is what makes me a bitch to him. I am a bitch (as it is a job requirement). I will accept that. I have developed a hardened exterior in no small part due to the previously described situations. I will not accept the assertion that I was nothing more than a woman seeking out fame. I easily could’ve found it in my own job. I chose not to. 

I cannot continue to maintain my isolation though, that much is clear. Cathal hasn’t left me alone for 2 years. An essay won’t stop gossip and an army of fans to spread it. This latest incident is proof by itself. Even had the song not been clearly targeted at me, enough speculation would have led people to believe it was. So, I believe I should address at least one other item:

I choose to own the label of bitch, but no woman should have to make that decision because a man decided to label her as one. In the interest of fairness however, I believe Cathal Lynch should accept the label of ‘misogynist.’ 

As written through correspondence with Arabella Lazaar and Jeffrey Martens. Arabella Lazaar is currently the personal assistant to Mercedes-AMG team principal Torger “Toto” Wolff. Jeffrey Martens is her legal counsel and acquaintance. 

Comments on this piece are unavailable.

~

“Black screens are going up,” I heard over the headset, and immediately took it off. Nothing was going to be happening for a moment.

“Fucking hell,” Toto sighed. “Gearbox issue, we’re not even on the road.” He looked over at me, and I saw a smile creep over his face.

“Let me show you what Bono sent me,” He smirked, raising his eyebrows. He handed over his phone and I saw a tweet.

PopCrave 

Cathal Lynch temporarily banned from Formula 1 races after releasing “Bitch,” and showing up to his ex-girlfriend’s job. Video below.

I looked at the video thumbnail. There he was in his stupid Red Bull shirt, but his hair looked different. He had clearly cut it, and his eyes looked tired. He no longer had the shaggy, boyish look he had when we broke up. Instead, he looked like a real celebrity. I clicked on the video and listened closely.

Cathal was leaving the paddock, and a bunch of media had already surrounded him. “Cathal, Cathal. Why are you leaving the paddock today?” One called out. He stopped and spoke into the camera, as I knew he couldn’t resist. 

“I was apparently ‘banned’ due to some violation. I don’t know what. My team is on it. It’s absurd. I bought my ticket. The song was planned to be released months ago. I apologize though to all the fans who might’ve expected to see me here,” He groaned out an obviously prepared reply. He knew why he had been banned. No way he couldn’t. 

“Cathal, did you see Ariana Lazaar’s response?” Another reporter called out.

“Huh?” He asked walking towards them.

“Did you see Ariana Lazaar’s response?” 

“Arabella? You mean Arabella? And no, what response? She hasn’t said anything,” Cathal answered.

“10 minutes ago on the Guardian,” The reporter explained.

“What? What’d she say?” Cathal asked.

“She called you a misogynist,” He responded. I could see the gears in Cathal’s head turn. “Mr. Lynch, do you have a response? Cathal, do you have a response?”

“That bitch.”

I could hear a collective ‘whoa’ come from the crowd of reporters as Cathal flipped his sunglasses down. The reporters chased him down as he climbed into his car and drove off. I looked up at Toto, and immediately laughed when I saw his huge smirk on his face. 

“Nice response, by the way. PR is absolutely in love,” Toto explained. 

“I…I appreciate that,” I smiled.

“I’m so very serious. I think he just ruined his own career, and you get to keep that pretty smile on your face,” Toto said, before suddenly looking around. “Where’s Netflix?”

“Not here,” I shrugged. 

“They’re not going to put this in, right? No point, right?” He asked. “It’d be weird.”

“If they do, they’re not interviewing me,” I nodded. 

“Where’s Susie? Do you know?” 

“Uh…not sure actually.”

“Let me text her. Keep your ears open on the headset, will you?” Toto asked, stepping away from the computers.

“Will do,” I nodded, putting the headset back on. It was a series of chaotic conversations between engineers as everyone desperately tried to understand the electrical failure occurring in one of the cars. Less time on the road is less time to practice, and suddenly everyone was moving, calling, chatting, arguing, and complaining. If I took the headset off though, I would find it to be entirely silent. Maybe a door would creak open every now and then followed by pounding footsteps, but otherwise, it could be eerie during a time like this. The only time you’d find this room silent otherwise would be the delayed breaths as we all sat waiting to hear a driver was okay after a crash. 

This was not silent out of fear though, it was silent because a good chunk of the engineers had run off to settle things on the car directly. The others were too busy staring at analytics on their computers. I recall one time when an assistant from Red Bull learned that I sit in the paddock and listen to things on the headset. I told him quite simply that when Toto isn’t here, I’m his boots on the ground for all things administrative. When Toto is here, I’m still his boots on the ground as he literally flies around taking care of everything else. He should have to worry the least about resource management and being sure he’s kept up on everything. I can handle the rest.

Suddenly, I felt a tiny tap on my leg, and looked over to my left and saw Jack.

“Oh, hey, Jack!” I smiled. I saw Susie was standing right behind me, as Toto ran off to handle something. “And Susie.”

“He saw you from across the room and went straight to practically begging to see you,” Susie grinned.

“Yeah? You missed me?” I asked, picking him up and putting him on my lap. “Here, let’s get you a headset. You might be able to hear your dad.”

I grabbed a pair that was too big and nearly falling off his ears. I held it with my hand as he grabbed on to either ear so he could hear.

“Y’know, Toto’s pissed about the car. I think he needed to see Jack to remind himself he can’t break any necks,” Susie nearly whispered. 

“An electrical failure this soon is not exactly a ringing endorsement for the season,” I complained. 

“Yeah and Red Bull is on our ass.”

“Gotta focus on our car first,” I shrugged.

“Hey, I was thinking. It’s been so long since we caught up. Did you want to grab a tea or something when you get a break from the action?” Susie offered. 

“Uh…yeah, yeah. Of course,” I smiled. In a bit of a sad way, one of my only female friends is my boss’s ex-wife. At least they’re best friends, and at least she is just lovely. To be clear, I would choose to have more female friends. It just happens that I work in a female dominated field in a boys’ club. All of my colleagues who I find myself trying to impress and work against, are women. All of my colleagues who I have to work with and build a strong relationship with happen to be men. Except, really, Susie. Maybe a few others here and there, but our relationships just don’t mesh. 

“Too busy?” She asked.

“No, no. I’ll make time. I’ll text you,” I explained. Jack gently pulled the headset off his ears. 

“Bored,” He shrugged.

“That was quick,” I smiled at him. “Well what do you want to do?” 

He shrugged again. 

“Do you wanna watch me mess with…my calendar?” I asked. He nodded, much to my surprise.

“Oh! Alright then,” I responded, and went to my calendar on the computer in front of me. Susie chuckled and sat in the chair next to us. I kept one ear on the headset, the other on Jack and Susie, my eyes on the calendar, one arm around Jack’s back with my cellphone in my hand as I shot off text messages, and the other hand on the computer mouse. This type of multitasking is something they try to train into you during your training. I had been lucky enough to become particularly well versed in it at a young age, helping my parents manage the hotel. Little things here and there. Grabbing the phone while they showed someone around, or playing concierge for the guests. Then, when I came back while getting my training, I actually got the title. The idea of a tiny hotel in Ameland having a concierge was cute enough to bring guests. I mean, the island doesn’t have much, so all I really did was help them manage a little bit of travel to and fro, and tell them where to catch the best views. People still appreciated it…I think.

~

“Isn’t it nice to have the family back together?” My father asked. 

“Yeah, pay no mind to the fact that Chadi has ran off to the nearest bar,” Nour laughed.

“Why is Chadi even here?” Farah asked. “He never shows up. Of course, Arabella offers a ticket to Formula 1 and he decides to show up.”

“I mean, at least he’s here,” I groaned.

“Thank you, Arabella,” My mother nodded.

“Besides, I give you guys tickets all the time. It’s not like this was the only time and Chadi used me or something.”

“Yeah, because Chadi would never do that,” Farah laughed.

“What are you talking about, Farah? Do you suddenly know him better than the rest of us?” Nour asked, leaning in. 

“No, but I know our parents better than the rest of you.”

“Oh, listen to the favorite babble on,” Chadi slurred, suddenly appearing at the table. He pulled out the chair directly next to Farah, and smirked.

“Sorry, I tried to tell him to go back to his hotel since he’s drunk but he wouldn’t have it,” Mehdi spoke from the doorway. As the newest addition to the family, why did anyone allow him to play bouncer? 

“Why are you still here?” Chadi asked. 

“Well, I am married to Nour. I know you missed the wedding, but what? Are you such a drunk you can’t remember that?”

“Shut the fuck up, with all due respect, Mehdi,” Nour groaned. “It’s not your job to keep anyone in or out of the family despite what Farah may have told you.”

“Everyone, shut up!” My father shouted. “Chadi, we love you. but you can’t show up drunk and argue with your sister.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Did everyone miss what she said about me?”

“No we heard it,” I complained, rubbing my temple. 

“Then you should say to your favorite daughter to keep her mouth shut sometimes!” Chadi shouted at our parents.

“Favorites? We don’t play favorites,” Our mom spoke, softly. 

“Raise your hand if you went to boarding school,” Chadi smirked. Nour and I raised our hands with Chadi.

“The favorite child gets the stellar education of Burgemeester Waldaschool? Meanwhile, the only one of us who is rich went to Saint-Denis and played squash because she was anxious.”

“Only one of us? I’m sorry, are you in my pocketbook, Farah?” Nour asked. “Your husband is a brain surgeon, fuckhead.”

“Watch your mouth,” My father warned.

“Stop fucking critiquing us and get on this one,” Nour answered, pointing at Farah.

“Farah, be nice,” My mother sighed.

“Be nice? That’s it?” Nour asked. “C’mon, you’ve got something better than that in there/”

“Leave mom alone, Nour,” Farah argued. “She hasn’t done anything.”

“Actually, our parents have done everything,” Chadi slurred. “When you think about it.”

“What the fuck are you even talking about, you fucking drunk?” Farah interrogated.

“I think what Chadi is saying-” Nour began.

“I can speak for myself, fuckhead,” Chadi interrupted. “They chose you to be the favorite, me to be the prodigal son that has yet to return, and Nour to be the envious older brother. And Arabella to be the anxious one who sits there twisting her fucking hair and not saying shit.”

I slowly took my hands out of my hair. I mean, yeah, he was right.

“Why are you mad at Arabella? She is literally just sitting there,” Nour asked.

“Because she’s literally just sitting there. She’s not saying anything of value and just watching this thing go down,” Farah groaned. Farah turned to me, eyebrow raised, and hair falling out of her bun. Chadi turned to me, with his body clearly wanting to slump over. Then Nour, the most cleancut one at the table, turned to me with a slightly crazed look in his eyes, like he smelled blood and was ready to go after it. Then my parents. My mother and father both turned to me, instead of speaking up and trying to solve this problem. 

“Listen, everyone needs to shut up. I brought you all here. You didn’t have to come, any of you. You chose to. Farah, just accept the fact that you’re the favorite. Our parents can barely admit it because it’s true. I’m sure you went through shit too though, I guess. Chadi, you’re drunk. Go back to the hotel, and just fucking sleep it off. And Nour, stop just fueling drama because you want to see the family blow up. And mom, and dad. At least realize that Farah is your favorite. Maybe if you admitted it, all of us would calm down or something. And I will keep playing negotiator since that’s all you guys want from me. But everyone, otherwise, shut the fuck up. Actually, y’know what. I don’t care. I’m leaving,” I complained. I stood up and left the table. No one came after me. Why would they? They were probably too self-absorbed to have even heard what I said.

~

“We’ve had Bottas on the road for 5 or so laps right now. We don’t have a lot of time left in the morning session,” Someone called from the radio. 

“How many laps can we get in?” Toto asked.

“Maybe 10? 15 total?” A response rang out.

“We’ll take it. It’s day one, he needs to be on the road,” Toto groaned. Toto turned to me and rolled his eyes. “Well, at least he’ll have those. He’s going to absolutely have my ass later.”

“He’ll learn to live with it,” I shrugged. 

“It would be better for him to learn to live with Max and Charles.”

“Speaking of Charles,” I gestured towards the screens. “Car’s down.”

“Well…and there it goes. Red flag. Alright…6 laps from Bottas?” Toto shrugged. “Pfft. This is just uber good, yeah?”

“I’m going for lunch in a few,” I sighed, taking off the headset.

“You’re going to be in the garage for the afternoon session then?” Toto asked, tapping my shoulder so I could turn around to face him. 

“Nope, my weekend is in the motorhome.”

Toto raised an eyebrow. 

“Yeah, I’ll be back, but I’m talking shit with Bono when I get back,” I sighed. Bono looked up from his place to the left of Toto and raised an eyebrow.

“Who are we talking shit about?” He asked, putting down his papers. 

“Toto,” I whispered.

“Alright, you two,” Toto chuckled. “But before you go, Arabella. Give me something to distract myself for a moment. What do you want for your anniversary?”

“A pen would actually be nice,” I sighed, taking out my phone and scrolling. 

“Still on about a pen. Anything else?” Toto groaned.

“There are good pens, Toto,” Bono nodded. I suddenly realized I had way too many notifications for me to continue comfortably looking at my phone. Even if just to make myself look busy.

“A fountain pen?” Toto asked.

“Oh, I would never use a fountain pen,” I sighed.

Toto threw his hands up. “Then what good of a gift is it?”

“I mean, she writes a lot,” Bono shrugged.

“She writes a lot. No worries, Arabella. I’ll make sure you get a pen. It will be the best gift you’ve ever gotten," he winked. For a moment, for that moment, everything was about what he had just said. Of course, our relationship is professional. At best, friendly. However, it would be irresponsible for me not to admit though that a part of my cold exterior could be melted away by the simple gesture of someone wanting to do something nice for me. Was that just part of my seemingly growing crush on him? I don’t think it matters. What it really says though is how desperate I am for someone to care about me. 

“You see how her eyes just lit up? I think she really does want a pen,” Bono laughed. 

“Maybe,” I cringed at myself. I could just imagine my doe eyed look for a few seconds. Toto just smirked though, implying that at the least, he didn’t notice the ‘desperate’ part of my expression. 

~

“Yeah, uh…do you have a recommendation?” The security guard sighed, looking me up and down. 

“Yeah, uh…Lewis Hamilton?” I mocked.

“The attitude is not cute on you,” He responded, looking through the list. “Well, just because you’re on the list, doesn’t mean you get to come in.”

“Then what’s the point of your list?” I groaned. 

“Do you think you’re Grace Kelly?”

“Do you think you’re the secret service?”

“I am,” He sighed, quickly flashing his ID. Oh…

“Alright, Schatzi,” I heard from behind me, as an arm wrapped around my shoulders. “I thought you’d already be on this boat, huh?”

“Yeah, I did too, Toto,” I sighed, looking at him. First kiss, second kiss. Just a brief touch on each cheek. The security guard looked at me in the eyes, and then back at Toto, before stepping aside to let us in. Toto let go of me, slipping into the crowd, as I began to follow him. Right before I did though, the security guard grabbed my arm.

“Now I have to know…who are you?” He asked.

“His assistant,” I shrugged. The security guard watched as I slipped into the crowd, but not quite disappearing before I blew a raspberry at him. I’m childish…but who cares at this particular moment. I’m on a billionaire’s super yacht, at the request of the best F1 driver in the world and another billionaire, and within my sight right now is Prince Albert. I took my fingers through my hair. I straightened it for the first time in a very long time. I stepped further into the party. It's hard to feel comfortable when surrounded by people like this, but nevertheless, I couldn’t help but savor the moment a little bit.

My anxiety was creeping up though. I could feel it. I quickly moved towards one of the servers and grabbed a glass of champagne, and chugged it. I grabbed another before they even moved away. I refuse to not enjoy myself, no matter how much alcohol it takes. The good thing about being unrecognizable is that no one is really desperate to talk to me. So, I can float through the party like a ghost…wait…why did I come then?

“Hey, Arabella!” I heard from deep in the crowd in front of me. The British accent and ability to remain soft spoken while yelling was impossible not to recognize. I pushed through the crowd, following the hand waving to me.

“Oh, hey!” I smiled. Lewis gave me a nod, and smiled. 

“I swore to God, I saw your boyfriend floating around here,” Lewis said, looking around.

“Are you sure it wasn’t Lewis Capaldi?” I asked.

“Oh, you know…it might’ve been. They do look alike, don’t they?” He sighed. “Is Cathal here?”

“In Monaco? Yeah. Here at the party? Likely not. We try to split up our engagements. Avoiding speculation and all that.”

“Ah, yeah. Not fun dating celebrities, is it?”.

“I mean…it’s great,” I smiled.

“You don’t have to lie,” Lewis laughed. “But, I’m glad you could come. Sometimes these parties feel a little…weird. It’s like 20 year olds and 50 year olds. Nothing in between. Except us, I guess.”

“Yeah, it's definitely interesting. But this isn’t my first party in Monaco…maybe the most elite one I’ve been to though,” I cringed, looking around.

“Oh, one thing I did want to mention. I am having a less elitist party tomorrow. Less princes, more fun. Bring your swimsuit, bring Cathal, it’ll be great. Less intense at least. I’ll text you the details.”

“Cathal? I don’t know…I…”

“Don’t worry. We know discretion. Despite what it may seem like, there are ways to keep things quiet. Promise,” Lewis winked.

“Thanks,” I smiled. I took a deep breath and looked around the party from my position. “I’m…going to go mingle. I’ll catch up with you when I see you.”

“Got it. See you tomorrow,” Lewis smiled.

I stepped in the direction of the exit. I appreciated Lewis’s offer, and maybe I would go tomorrow. Today though, I just am not sure if this is the environment for me. I can’t say I find this to be particularly comfortable. I’m not famous, and I don’t want to be. I barely got let in the door. I shouldn’t be here. I just shouldn’t-

“Are you leaving already, Arabella?” I heard Toto behind me. 

“Oh…yeah,” I answered, turning around.

“Well, before you go, at least let me introduce you to some people. I was just telling everyone about my amazing assistant, and they were just saying how they have to put a face to the name.”

I walked directly to the right of Toto, and waved to the group of men he was talking to. 2 hours later, I was still on the boat. Sure, I didn’t belong with the celebrities, but maybe that’s not my niche in places like this. But I can definitely play assistant in places like this. And I kind of love it. Sharing stories of messy conversations and quadruple bookings, all while showcasing how damn good I am at managing it? It gets no better.

Tag list: @daddyslittlevillain, @littleheaven

[horrormoviemonstermakeout]

MONSTER RATING: Godzilla (Shin Godzilla)

Shin Godzilla is a new spin on Godzilla from Japanese directors Hideaki Anno and Shinji Higuchi, and it fucking rules. Look, I love most of the Godzilla movies, even though it went from a metaphor to the horrors of war and the nuclear bomb to basically just kaiju WWE, Godzilla was meant to be a terrifying monster. Shin Godzilla seeks to rectify it with this new incarnation - a mutilated, radiation-scarred amalgamation of tumorous, charred flesh.

Shin Godzilla follows the members of the Japanese government as they attempt to weave their way through the bureaucratic and social nightmare of a 400 foot tall irradiated monster seeking to destroy one of the most densely populated cities in the world. It’s a fairly interesting concept - it’s less a typical kaiju story and more of someone going “Okay, seriously, what if Godzilla actually existed in real life, what would happen?” I’ve been known to enjoy ridiculous hypotheticals and I, for one, am glad that Shin Godzilla follows through with it and still manages to make it interesting. The wonderful performances really sell that these people are responsible for the lives of several million citizens and that they are utterly aware of how limited their powers are. These are people trying to do the best they can to not let this be the worst humanitarian disaster on the face of the planet.

The movie’s cast is huge, I could swear they have enough actors to replicate the Japanese government one-to-one, which makes it a little difficult to pick out who our main protagonists are. The one we focus on the most is Rando Yaguchi (Hiroki Hasegawa), Deputy Chief Cabinet Secretary, our main protagonist with his friend Hideki Akasaka (Yutaka Takenouchi), the Prime Minister's aide, and Kayoco Anne Patterson (Satomi Ishihara), the US President’s envoy. As Godzilla grows more and more dangerous - with mutations that threaten to obliterate Tokyo, if not all of Japan - they must organize as many people as they can muster in order to devise a plan to stop Godzilla in its tracks. All the while attempting to placate the US, who is more than eager to destroy Godzilla, along with all of Tokyo, with nuclear force.

I know political commentary is not usually what people come to Godzilla for, but the “what if”-esque nature of this movie lends itself to it surprisingly well. Godzilla is treated both as a force of nature, much like an earthquake or hurricane, that appears randomly to cause arbitrary death and destruction, and a hostile entity that has to be combatted. It’s shockingly realistic for a disaster movie, we see how the government is stretched thin trying to handle evacuation, military deployment, trying to seek reason in a country with an itchy trigger finger resting on the nuke button - it gets tense watching them despair and panic, doing everything they can to minimize the loss of human life.

No punches are pulled at the expense of America, of course. Our response is immediate military deployment, with little to no regard for collateral damage or civilian casualties. Props to the movie for accuracy, even if attempts to fight Godzilla with raw military power are futile. Gunfire, cannonfire, missiles, everything seems to bounce off its burnt exterior without so much as a scratch. The only thing that manages to pierce its skin are the missiles dropped from American B-52 bombers. In response, Godzilla discharges dozens of laser beams from his back, destroying the bombers and reducing the metropolitan area to a burning, irradiated wasteland. Even if the missiles did succeed, the movie is quick to point out that the carpet bombing would’ve annihilated Tokyo anyways. When conventional weaponry doesn’t work, the US immediately plans to destroy both Godzilla and Tokyo through use of a nuclear bomb. Every character is justifiably horrified at this.

Godzilla in this movie is a being of ultimate violence, absolutely nothing can trump it. When there’s a weapon it can’t shrug off, it evolves to surpass it. More importantly though, he’s basically a wild animal trapped in a corner. Of course it’s going to lash out, you’re provoking the god of violence and he’s scared shitless. He is the ultimate hubris punisher, a being that exists to humble humanity and say “Your violence will only be met with destruction.” The calls for violence against it are noticeable once you pick it up, even in the beginning when it’s a large, unknown, whale-like creature in the Tokyo bay, the government officials are already calling for its extermination. The only way he is defeated is through scientific research and understanding, a blood coagulant that is developed only through study of its molecular structure and behavior. The movie’s big message is “Violence will only ever beget greater violence, it’s only through cooperation and understanding that humanity can survive,” and it’s using the American proclivity towards violence as the cudgel for this metaphor, which is great.

We talked a lot about what he represents, but let's get literal for a moment. Let's talk about the big man himself.

- MONSTER RATING - GODZILLA -

CREEPINESS: 7/10 - Classically, Godzilla is just one big dinosaur, and like, conceptually it’s pretty terrifying. He’s a giant monster that’s almost impossible to fight and can kill thousands of people pretty easily, though a lot of the older movies have added a bit of narm to him. For a lot of people, Godzilla is more a goofy rubber monster than something horrifying.

Shin Godzilla is horrifying. His design makes it look like he’s one-half dead, useless flesh and the other half painful, tumorous overgrowth, with the exterior of thick, folded over, burnt skin and dull red light faintly glowing from where it’s thinnest. Raw, exposed flesh that’s visible from the parts that aren’t covered in charred skin. The shriveled, contorted arms that seemed to have lost functionality. The several overlapping teeth that seem to just grow randomly from in and around its mouth. This beast is a product of radiation and every single part of it seems to yearn for a swift release. Existence for Shin Godzilla seems to be one of endless pain, as its tumor-ridden body continues to survive despite it threatening to fall apart.

Though what makes him even scarier than his design is that the movie portrays him like the personification of natural disaster. It cannot be reasoned with, it cannot be stopped, and the more you try to stop him, the more death and destruction he will cause. Even then, nothing humanity can do can actually stop it, it’s more powerful than any weapon on Earth, and its existence only signifies inevitable annihilation. Humans are no longer on top, and they’re no longer safe either. 

The ONLY thing that stops Godzilla from being truly terrifying is - and I’m sorry to say this - the eyes. Big, googly-eyed peepers that don’t suggest any form of brain activity in that skull. A lot of people seem to think it’s first appearance in the film, when it’s younger and less developed, is actually pretty cute in an ugly pug sort of way. The googly eyes carry on even to hid final form, which makes him look unfortunately goofy with his beady little eyes. I understand the movie is trying to go with the glassy, dead-eyed fish appearance to make it look even more like a walking corpse, but it doesn’t really stick. Otherwise, the design is phenomenal.

WETNESS: 6/10 - Surprisingly not as wet as you'D think for a giant fish. His final form makes him look like he survived an hour in the incinerator. The dry, black, cracked skin with a faint red glowing underneath conveying the unbridled nuclear heat stored inside. Though he loses his wetness as he evolves, his first appearance is wet as HELL.

Godzilla is a fish that’s become irradiated, and you can certainly tell that when he first appears. His skin is still green and not yet covered in burnt flesh, though with some parts that are just exposed musculature, as if its rapid growth is literally ripping him apart. As he crawls through the streets of Tokyo, blood spills out of his gills with every breath. This is the midpoint between what it once was and what it will become and it looks utterly painful. If his final form is nuclear incineration, his first form is nuclear disintegration. His cells are just barely holding together as he’s forcefully evolved into a being of destruction.

DATEABILITY: 8/10 - Let me give you a quote from the director of the 1954 Godzilla film, Ishir⁠ō Honda:

“Monsters are tragic beings. They are born too tall, too strong, too heavy. They are not evil by choice. That is their tragedy. They do not attack people because they want to, but because of their size and strength, mankind has no other choice but to defend himself.”

You’re a fish in the ocean, and by happenstance you accidentally find yourself in a nuclear waste dumping ground. The radiation mutates you. Slowly, painfully, you grow larger. Your fins are replaced with distortions of limbs, blood spills out of your gills, and you have no idea what is causing the pain you feel. Soon enough, you start surpassing buildings in size, and in a blind, pained stupor you find yourself in a city. Your body is too huge and unwieldy, as you move the infrastructure around you turns to rubble, and hundreds die in your wake. In response, humans have no choice but to try and kill you. You never chose this, you never even realized what was happening, but now you’ve become a god of death, the only thing you will ever cause is misery and disaster. You are utterly alone, because you’ve become built for violence, and violence will be the only thing you’ll know for the rest of your life.

Godzilla is all alone in this world, and no one can possibly understand them. He might be a terrifying destructive god on the outside but on the inside they’re angry and terrified. Can you imagine suddenly mutating into a gigantic monster, whose existence can only destroy? How alienating it must be that you cannot coexist with the life around you, that the only thing that can follow you is unmitigated death. No one will try to understand you, let alone sympathize with you, because you will only ever be a threat and nothing more. It’s fascinating that the song that plays when Godzilla unleashes his nuclear beams, “Who Will Know,” is one that’s sympathetic to him.

“If I die in this world / Who will know something of me? / I am lost, no one knows / There’s no trace of my yearning.”

Godzilla in this movie, despite his city-destroying size and power, is still the scared little guppy he once was. He doesn’t know any better, he doesn’t even know why this is happening to him in the first place. What he needs most of all is someone next to him, to see him for what he is, and to love and care for him despite his irradiated and monstrous appearance. Someone to quell the fiery radioactive fear in his heart, and show him the love he needs in a world that only seeks his death.

FINAL RATING: A GIANT TUMOR WORTH LOVING / 10

[akuaya-eng]

(Main story) Chapter 2 - Episode 8

- TO THE TOWER -

Dia

... The tower is up ahead.

Espada

It’s been a long time since I’ve been here... It’s changed quite a bit. This place has always been prone to gathering cursed energy, but now...

Fiori

The air isn't just heavy; it's like mud... It’s hard just to stand here... As expected from the place that caused the "Scarlet Wall" to go berserk.

Dia

..........

Espada

Lord Dia...

Dia

Espada, Fiori. You’ve memorized the plan and the map, right?

Espada

Of course.

Fiori

Naturally.

Dia

Good. Let’s move. Stay on your guard.

(time passes)

Espada

--Haa! (purifies)

Fiori

There! (purifies)

Dia

Haa! (purifies)

Espada

Hurry while you can!

Fiori

No, stop. They've gathered again.

Dia

It can’t be helped. We’ll focus on purification here for now. Don’t break formation, you two.

Espada

Understood, Lord Dia.

Fiori

Okay! (purifies)

Servant's Ghost

.......

Fiori

(thinking) Voices again, coming from beyond the cursed energy...

Servant's Ghost

What happened to my eyes... I... can’t see anything... I hear a voice telling me to run. But, where... What’s happening? I’m scared... terrified... Please, don’t leave me behind...

Dia

........... (purifies)

Servant's Ghost

A magical disaster? Are you kidding? This is just a small fire, right? Isn’t it? As long as we get out of the castle, we’ll be safe, right? The town is safe, right...? Tell me it’s a lie. Come on. I just had a baby...

Dia

..........

Espada

...Lord Dia... (purifies)

Child's Ghost

Did you see my mommy and big brother?

Fiori

...I’m sorry. I haven’t seen them.

Child's Ghost

The whole town is in trouble. There’s a fire. My mommy and big brother are working in the castle, so I came to find them!

Fiori

You came all by yourself... That’s brave.

Child's Ghost

The castle is burning too... Where’s mommy? Where’s my brother...? It’s hot... I’m scared... Can you hug me...?

Fiori

... (purifies) --Maybe you can meet them now. I hope... you do.

Dia

...The way is clear. Let’s move on.

----------

Espada

This is the garden you mentioned, Lord Dia. It’s my first time stepping in here.

Dia

Yes. After the magical disaster, it was left untouched.

Espada

It’s more of a forest than a garden now. It’s disorienting.

Fiori

It must have been a beautiful place once. Now, it’s unrecognizable. How many people lost their lives here...

Dia

..........

Espada

According to the plan, I will focus on the purification. Lord Dia, please search for the path to the tower.

Dia

Understood.

Fiori

I’ll handle support.

Espada

...Thank you.

Fiori

Here they come, Espada!

Espada

I know. (purifies) ...Ugh!I won’t let them reach Lord Dia!

Fiori

Over here too...! (purifies) ...You don’t have to stay here anymore.

Espada

(purifies) ..........

Fiori

Even a devil makes a face like that. Hearing such realistic voices must hurt your conscience.

Espada

...How I feel doesn’t matter. But Lord Dia... He's suffering. That’s for sure.

Fiori

...Well, he deserves it. He’s responsible for the deaths of countless innocent people. It’s about time he suffered.

Espada

...You’re wrong, Fiori. Lord Dia... He has been suffering all along.

----------

Dia

I think there’s a shortcut this way...

Vassal's Ghost

The Prince... Because of the Prince...

Dia

...Excuse me... Please let me through. (purifies)

----------

Maid's Ghost

Someone said... The "Scarlet Wall" went berserk-- I'm scared, scared... What did I do? If only that day hadn’t come. If only that hadn’t... happened... It’s because he moved the "Scarlet Wall." If he... if Dia weren’t here... I...

----------

Dia

(thinking)That’s right. If only I...

Servant's Ghost

The prince did something so horrible!? The king and queen are dead...? That’s a lie, right...? Killing his own parents... Has the prince turned into a devil!?

Dia

(thinking) If it weren't for me... (purifies)

...There it is. If I recall, this path leads to... this place...! The cursed energy is especially dense here... Where is it coming from? That is--

Gardenkeeper Christop

Did Lord Dia really cause the "Scarlet Wall" to go berserk? ...Christoph...

Dia

...Christoph...

Gardenkeeper Cristoph

Lord Dia wouldn’t do something like that. If we don’t believe in him, who will? Even though he’s a prince, he’s still just a boy. He loved watching birds bathe here. He must be scared. He must feel lonely. Where is he now... Is he safe...

Dia

I am...

Knight Ralph

We must protect Lord Dia. Has anyone seen Lord Dia!?

Dia

Ralph...

Knight Ralph

Damn it, the fire is spreading...! I’ll protect him even if it costs me my life!

Head Maid Alma

The Prince is the cause? What a stupid thing to say.

Dia

That voice... Alma...

Head Maid Alma

Lord Dia remembers each and every servant’s name and smiles at us. He wouldn’t do something so terrible. Oh, Lord Dia. You must be in so much pain right now. Please don’t blame yourself. We are here for you...

Dia

...Everyone... they... they care about me... Ugh...! I’ll release you from this pain now.

[aeoki]

SS Finals - Crown: Chapter 12

Location: SS Finals Live Stage Characters: Eichi & Wataru

Wataru: Are you sure you wanted to let Mr Butler do his own thing?

Eichi: Touri has apparently been kidnapped.

Yuzuru cherishes him – he’s the apple of Yuzuru’s eye. Do you think he’ll listen if we tell him to restrain himself?

He’s not a fool. He may stop if ordered, but the stress will definitely not subside.

It will slowly eat away at him, and take away the stamina and mental strength he needs to fight in the final round.

If that’s the case, then it would be better to let him do what he wants, so that he lets some of that stress out. At the very least, it should serve as a good distraction.

Wataru: Well, I don’t think Mr Butler would be rough in his handling of the investigation. I wonder if he’ll be okay. He’s similar to you, Eichi, in that he can lose all restraint at times.

Eichi: Who are you saying is similar to who? We have no choice but to place our faith in him – Yuzuru really treasures Touri and loves him dearly…

Touri loves “fine” from the bottom of his heart. Yuzuru won’t do anything that would jeopardise our prestige. 

No matter how many times people insist that they’re “doing it for you”, they cannot allow anyone to taint the thing they cherish the most.

That’s what it means to hurt “fine’s” reputation.

Although I’m sure if Touri’s life is in danger, Yuzuru will go to the extremes, even if it means he’ll be despised for his actions.

But that wouldn’t be appropriate right now. Yuzuru must have also realised that.

Even so, Touri is someone important to Yuzuru – someone he would lose all reason and go on a rampage for.

Do you think I’m a heartless person for not being able to do that, Wataru?

Wataru: A bit late to be saying that, don’t you think?

Eichi: Yeah. It is. Touri is the odd one for not getting tired of me despite knowing my true nature.

In fact, I think he would be quite surprised if I were to galiantly rush out to save him.

It seems he loves me – along with all of my concerns.

Wataru: Amazing! I shall praise you for realising that! Good job, Eichi!

Eichi: …………

Wataru: Himegimi wasn’t born a pure and untainted angel nor has he been one this whole time.

He is also human. It’s true he was raised with love and was protected from all sorts of disasters and malice…

But! There is one thing that always appears in the human heart! As long as he is a human with a heart, darkness will always find a way in!

The sun does not exist within the human body! It has always been darkness…!

That’s why everyone reaches their hand out, yearning for something to bring light to their heart. As they do that, they’ll encounter others by fumbling around – each trying to verify each other’s forms.

Himegimi was enchanted by your form after encountering you.

You two were raised in similar environments and bore similar worries, but even so, he loved how bright and radiant you were.

He was full of admiration – wishing to be just like you.

Eichi: …………

Wataru: You are his sun, Eichi. That child grew up admiring this sun but he, in turn, will undeniably also become someone else’s sun someday.

The cosmos is enveloped in a pitch-black darkness, but countless stars there begin to twinkle and shine. That must be the landscape in the heart of all children who aim to be idols.

You created a system that will make it easier for those twinkling stars to be born and for them to shine the longest.

All with a mere human body – I must say I’m rather impressed.

People tend to think of me as some sort of inhuman monstrosity, but I’ve always watched over you thinking how intriguing you were.

As my fellow irreplaceable brethren who I happened to come across in this vast cosmos.

Eichi: Hehe. It terrifies me to think that had I not desperately put in so much effort, I would have never been acknowledged by you.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ← Previous Chapter ᠂ ⚘ ˚⊹˚ ⚘ ᠂  Next Chapter →

[ashenhartkrie]

4 YA Books to Read in 2024

I graduated university in December, and since then I've been determined to read more now that I finally have time.

So, here are 4 books that I'm revisiting, and that you should read (or re-read!) in 2024.

The Magic in the Weaving

With her gift of weaving silk thread and creating light, Sandry is brought to the Winding Circle community. There she meets Briar, a former thief who has a way with plants; Daja, an outcast gifted at metalcraft; and Tris, whose connection with the weather unsettles everyone, including herself. At Winding Circle, the four misfits are taught how to use their magic - and to trust one another. But then disaster strikes their new home. Can Sandry weave together four kinds of magical power and save herself, her friends, and the one place where they've ever been accepted?

If you like found family, Read. This. Book. Reading this series feels like coming home. Tamora Pierce is probably best known for her Tortall universe, but the Emelan books have such a beautiful charm to them. The Magic in the Weaving (sometimes called Sandry’s book) is the first in the Circle of Magic quartet, and there’s about eight other books set in the same universe. There’s some quiet representation of polyamory and LGBTQ+ (particularly in the later books) and the cast is very racially diverse. I wholeheartedly recommend this entire series for fans of found family, and fans of finding magic in the mundane.

Ingo

Sapphire's father mysteriously vanishes into the waves off the Cornwall coast where her family has always lived. She misses him terribly, and she longs to hear his spellbinding tales about the Mer, who live in the underwater kingdom of Ingo. Perhaps that is why she imagines herself being pulled like a magnet toward the sea. But when her brother, Conor, starts disappearing for hours on end, Sapphy starts to believe she might not be the only one who hears the call of the ocean.

Ingo is set in Cornwall, and is such a truly beautiful book. It’s the first in a series, so if you’re a fan of mermaids, selkie mythology, and magic, Ingo and the rest of the books in the series are for you. I’ve re-read this book a number of times, because it really is a wonderful story. It brings the magic and mystery of the ocean to the fore. This one’s also great for younger readers.

The Gathering

When Nathanial and his mother move to the quiet, safe streets of Cheshunt, he immediately senses something wrong. Violent gangs patrol the streets, feral dogs roam at night, and the oppressive stench from the abattoir lingers over the school. Soon, Nathanial learns that his presence is no accident. As he uncovers the dark secrets of Cheshunt's past, and event spiral desperately out of control, he and his new friends must confront phantoms from their past in the battle to stop the Gathering and its terrifying creator.

TW for animal death/death of a pet. Listen, I loved this book. I was also disturbed by this book. The Gathering is YA fiction, but I’d say it’s for older teenagers. I studied this book in one of my units at university, and there are some heavy themes in it, but it’s also something that I would have related to as a teenager. None of the protagonists are listened to, or believed, by the adults in their life who they are meant to be able to trust. It’s allegorical in nature, and adult readers will immediately spot the links to fascism. Definitely worth a read, but it can be brutal at times.

An Unexpected Party.

Co-published by Get YA Words Out and edited by Seth Malacari, An Unexpected Party brings together the stories of emerging authors from the LGBTQIA+ community. From fantastical realms to real-world struggles, this anthology champions queer identity by challenging stereotypes and exploring the many facets of identity. Written with wit, heart and honesty, these stories take queer protagonists outside the box of young adult romance and centre them at the heart of stories that involve magic, paranormal beings and adventure. Featuring trans and gender-diverse voices – asexual, aromantic, bisexual and more – the stories in An Unexpected Party are as diverse as their writers.

Do you want to read more, but don’t want to commit to a novel or series? Read an Unexpected Party. Yes, maybe I’m biased, but there are some absolutely stunning short stories in here from a beautiful spread of very talented emerging Australian authors. I’m particularly fond of the Parade of the Weeds, and Shellshocked. There's a massive variety of different speculative fiction short stories here, so if you'd like to explore a new genre or just love speculative fiction, check it out. You might even spot a familiar name! ;)

If you liked this, please go check out my Vocal.Media page where you can find this article and a bunch more!

[terristarstrike]

Desperate To Belong

"Look, it’s just that, I’ve been having these thoughts lately, and.. I’m starting to believe that I should be somewhere else in this world. It’s like I want to be a part of something I just don’t understand. But… I don’t know. Maybe it’s just me." - Terrina

Terrina was the most widely beloved princess of Eve El Doe, often regarded as the most diplomatic, most beautiful and kindest of all. Unfortunately for her, she also faced a difficult teenhood trying to fit in with the other giants, because she was born a Humazon - a Jotuzon hybrid with mixed human blood. Terrina was unable to feel a sense of belonging amongst Jotuzons, and was more interested in learning about humans. Her fellow giants would bully her over her unusual obsessions, causing her to hide her secret humanity from the rest of Eve El Doe.

Rayna, Terri's twin, was also born as a Humazon, but she was more on the Jotuzon side of the spectrum, with very little regard for the humans. She had no time to think about these beings, and was more focused on being a warrior for her people. While Terrina was the popular twin of the duo, she sheltered herself from the world and preferred to live in her own studies of humanity with her only friend, Meg. Whenever Rayna wasn't there to protect her twin, Meg was the only one who understood Terri and accepted her interests. After turning 17, Terrina develops a teenage existential crisis and contemplates on whether she should give up her royal responsibilities to find her true purpose. She desperately fled to the human world.

When she first came to Earth, she was finally old enough to visit the human world all by herself. She was desperate to find a place where she can finally feel a sense of joy and belonging, and since she was half-human, it didn't matter if she was a giant compared to there, she would feel much safer and happier here. But poor Terri, the humans are also terrified of the unknown, the same way Jotuzons are intolerant towards humans. Luckily, one human, Bailey Wilson, was one human who was deeply curious to learn about Terri. Nearly a year later, Bailey and Terrina became an inseparable couple, and Terrina herself became the beloved superstar of the town of Westshore.

Everyone has their eyes on Terri, she's the pride and joy of the town. But the world where she came from is still a disaster, she's hiding her half-human heritage, hoping that everyone would forget, but after learning that Bailey Wilson was also secretly a Jotuzon who was hiding in human form, and Meg was also a half-human hybrid developing her hybrid powers, Terrina came to the realization that she is not the only Humazon in the universe, and she's beginning to take more pride in her hybrid nature to give voice to the other Humazons on Eve El Doe who are hiding.

[armadillidium-vulgar]

I wish more horror games/haunt experiences would utilize natural disasters as an antagonist. So many people are scared of thunderstorms and tornadoes and like, there’s nothing quite like a good severe weather alert or a siren somewhere.

I remember doing the Twister attraction at universal right before it closed and I LOVED it. It scared the hell out of me but I’ll never forget how the queue line was an upturned house, and how they made their little tornado and the LOUD LOUD WIND. I’ve lived in tornado alley all my life. They still terrify me. If you drove up the mountain ten miles from my home, the woods and neighborhoods were streaked with destruction. My grandpa was in his garage across the street from me when a twister picked up the roof and threw it a quarter mile. It’s awful and real and it could happen to anyone.

I’m thinking specifically of haunt experiences. Get some big industrial fans, some flashing lights, rig up a mister system, crank that creaking and crumbling ambience (and thunder ofc) and go to town with the dilapidated sets. Maybe it’s a supernatural storm generated in a lab that rains some chemical on the town making everyone mutated and murderous, for good measure.

And maybe in the end, your party barely escapes, but with the knowledge that they’ve been exposed, and things can only get worse from here.

Anyway there’s SO MUCH POTENTIAL here. Bad storms are a universal experience, and I’m dying to see more people use it.

[americasnexttopcadaver]

writing about last night without twirling my hair and giggling and humping the mattress challenge….. well I really really REALLY liked it. I told you I hadn’t done anything like that before but what I didn’t tell you is that part of that was because I never expected to like it much. truth be told it scared me. when you hit me there the other night it took me by surprise, not just that you did it but how good it felt. and then last night….. I’ve never felt more vulnerable than that, or more open for you. I didn’t feel like a person anymore, just a needy hurting mewling thing that knew nothing but being yours. I really felt like I was yours to do WHATEVER you wanted with. nothing has ever been more painful to me, not belts or canes or being cut or burnt or bitten or anything I’ve ever experienced. you said you’ve never heard me scream like that, well I don’t think I’ve screamed like that in my life. I felt totally helpless against the pain and I loved it. I wanted you to keep going forever.

I was surprised how hard it was to hold still even when you told me to. it was like flinching but almost even less voluntary, like nothing was left of me but pain and fear and aching need. all I could think about was keeping my legs open so you could keep hitting me and then you would hit me and suddenly the only thing that existed in the world was pain. and then I would come back and notice I was fighting and feel ashamed a bit because I wanted the pain. and more than that I wanted to let you keep hitting me, I wanted to submit to you so completely that I wouldn’t move even when it hurt that much because you told me not to and you wanted to hit me there.

I had a train of thought with that but I lost it because even writing about this is hard because I keep remembering how vulnerable I felt, like I was split open, like the entire world ceased to exist except you and me and the way you were hitting me and the absolute excruciating agony of it and you, the ruler of my universe. I think I’m closer now to knowing what letting you kill me will actually be like, how much it’ll hurt and how hard it will be to let you (because I know it’ll make last night look like nothing). and I know even more than ever how much I want to let you, how much I want you to always overpower me (oh god I’m so glad you could hold me down last night, I really was trying so hard to be good) and how much of myself I want to give you. I want to give you everything. I want to submit everything, absolutely and totally, holding nothing back. I don’t think I’ve ever felt better in my life than I did last night and now it’s like something opened inside me and I just want more of that. I hope you do it again and even worse. I hope you keep doing it until I do learn to lie still and then find something else that makes me flinch and fight again. I love you so much. I feel I belong to you more than ever. I’m never afraid of you when we aren’t having sex but sometimes when we are I’m TERRIFIED of you, the way people are terrified of natural disasters or of the wrath of God. and I love you like nature and like God. I cannot possibly ever get enough of you.

and this is v disjointed and I got myself worked up writing it but I’ll close by saying my clit still hurts

[maddieonthemovee]

May 16 - Mount Takao

Today was dedicated to going to the top of Mount Takao! At 8:30, we took the train to Takao Station. We got round-trip tickets for a chair lift from the bottom to a point of the mountain between the bottom and the top. I was expecting the chair lift to be like a ski lift and have a safety bar, but there was no safety bar. Going up was a little nerve wracking to be honest, but we made it to our midway point (462 m) safely! We walked uphill for a bit and reached a torii. We also came across a tree that used to be rubbed for good luck. Instead, there are round statues, one being an octopus, that people can rub for good luck. We rubbed the statue and then continued onward! Our next “landmark” on our journey upward was a stone ring that you walk through to “open up” your luck or fortune. There was a small line to do so, and I saw that once you pass through the ring, there are metal rings hanging from a pillar. After you donate a coin, you hit the rings with a long wooden stick. I had to learn by watching the people who went before me, so I’m not sure if I did it completely right. Next, we hiked up to the top of the mountain! It was very foggy and misty outside, so we didn’t get much of a view.

There were several trails to take down, either back to the midway point, connecting to another trail, or straight to the bottom. My friends and I took Trail 3, which led us back to our midway point. The trail wasn’t super difficult, but at some points it got pretty muddy (I’m at the laundromat washing my pants as I write this). For the entirety of the trail, we were basically walking along the side of the mountain, and there were no guardrails. The only thing separating us from the trees and the ground kilometers below us were a couple of inches of the ground. It made me super anxious, but I just focused on my friend’s feet in front of me and was able to make it to the midway point safely!! The view was really pretty (when it wasn’t terrifying), and there were a couple of wooden bridges and a small waterfall along the way. At the midway point, I bought a skewer with three rice dumplings with a walnut miso glaze on top. It was a very satisfying reward for our intense hike. We were then able to get a better view from above because the fog had cleared more.

We took the trains back to the hotel, where I had the best shower of this trip so far!! Now, I’m at the laundromat doing my laundry to prepare for our journey to Kyoto in a couple of days. This trip is already going by so fast; I need time to slow down!!! I think I’m getting sushi with my friends later tonight. We only had sushi on the first night, so I’ve been looking forward to getting some before the second leg of our trip.

Academic Reflection:

I feel like Japan has the perfect balance between a big city feel and a lush natural environment. In almost every area of Tokyo that we have been in so far, I have seen trees and nature everywhere! In the reading “The Green Archipelago: Forestry in Preindustrial Japan”, I learned how this balance has been achieved: through decades of strategic, detailed forest planning and a widespread knowledge of the importance of environmental preservation.

I learned how environmental preservation was instilled in farmers. Trees offered economic growth, protection from natural disaster and crime, and health benefits. I also learned how certain areas of the forests were used by specific groups of people. Villagers mainly used areas with broadleaf trees and bamboo while the government sought hillsides with construction timber. I found it interesting how these different groups of people were able to share land and accommodate each other’s needs/wants.

[adara-of-the-flame]

the-name-is-hoggle

Anyone within their right mind would be if not almost terrified by The Summer Queen’s response, they’d at least be somewhat nervous. From the laughter to the obvious contempt, let alone the killer manicure. Jareth, on the other hand, only felt annoyance and a measured rising of temper. Perfectly manicured eyebrows furrowing as his glossed lips went down into a deep pout.

It was apparent that he was out and out being mocked now. Jareth knew full well he’d given Hoggle a "real” title- but that was where the JOKE came in. Being ‘prince’ of a worthless, blasphemously bad smelling, gurgling bog was as much a joke as Hoggle the dwarf himself was. At least, that was the Goblin King’s logic.

“What do you mean the bog isn’t just a bog? I’ve been to the location myself, it’s nothing but the foulest smelling pit within the Labyrinth. Worse than the Oubliette a thousand fold. That’s why I banished that welp Hogsmead there in the first place.”

He huffs, arms crossing over his chest.

———————————————-

“…..I was hoping you’d have some magic song that could get us through the desert instead…?”

Hoggle asks Mars with a slight cringe to his expression, obviously not liking the idea of being catapulted. Let alone trying to make plant life do the deed. He took a look about them, wiping some sweat from his brow.

“…..maybe I can summon a giant tumbleweed and we just…roll there…?”

He mutters in thought, it’d certainly be faster than walking…

————————

Sir Didymus met the kitsune’s bristling with a cheeky grin, his amusement meeting her tensity. It with the same brevity that he places down his own tiles once Hickory has his turn.

“Beau”

He spells out, using the A in Yumika’s Haiku to make the word.

Yes. It was going to be a long afternoon….

adara-of-the-flame

"So, his name's 'Hogsmead' now?" It was beyond tempting for Selva Roja to keep a tight hold on these plays on Hoggle's name to use on the dwarf later. For innocent fun, of course. Though, it probably wouldn't be best to play such things on someone who would eventually be her equal.

At least....not until they got to know each other a little more.

Her disembodied voice let out a long, exhasperated sigh. "You beautiful, perfect disaster, Jareth. I love your innocence, but you really must learn to look farther below the surface. Do you really think everything in the Labyrinth--in the Goblin Realm--was the same as it is now? Even you know it changes. You've been known to will it so.

"I take it you took one sniff of the Bog, but didn't bother to look for the smell under the smell." The Summer Queen's lone hand took on a pensive stance. "It was such a lovely little peice of property when Saisho No Me gave it to your predicesor. So...clean and fragrant."

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

"Phhhft! HAHAHAHHA! Tumbleweed!" Something about the thought of them both just....rolllin', rollin', rollin' along head over feet on a giant plant gave Mars the giggles. "I think we'd fall off before we got anywhere."

Much like the many times before, the half-Urru just picked up her much smaller companion without asking permssion, and began walking in the direction Hoggle pointed.

She sure liked to pick people up, didn't she?

"Summon a tumbleweed if you want, but we still gotta start walking." Naturally, to pass the time, Mars started singing:

"On the first part of the journey

I was looking at all the life

There were plants and birds and rocks and things

There was sand and hills and rings

The first thing I met was a fly with a buzz

And the sky with no clouds

The heat was hot and the ground was dry

But the air was full of sound

I've been through the desert on a horse with no name

It felt good to be out of the rain..."

Currently, she could only think of an old song from the band, America.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the stench of this terrible blog…bleck!”

[tayterbean]

FEBRUWHUMP DAY TWO

miles edgeworth

natural disaster (alt.#9)

You hadn’t expected to go to Japan with Miles Edgeworth to study Japanese law for three months. In all honesty, it just sort of happened.

It had been two weeks before he was set to leave when he asked. You had been in his office, helping him set some affairs in order before he left the office for awhile. It had been silent for several minutes before he suddenly blurted, “Would you like to come with me to Japan?”

At first, you’d just looked at him in shock. “I-I know it’s last minute,” he’d stammered, “but I’ve been thinking about it for awhile. I understand if you can’t dedicate the time, but I’d really-”

“I’d love to.”

And so here you are, studying a Japanese law book in a gigantic library in Sendai.

The two of you have been in Japan for nearly a month now, watching courtroom proceedings and studying both the Japanese language and law traditions. You’d been in bigger cities most of the time, but Sendai was in the process of a huge court case, naturally luring the both of you there. It’s certainly been a busy time, but also an extremely fun one. The differences in law across countries has always interested you, so being able to study it from an emic perspective is a great experience for you, especially when you get to do it alongside one of your closest friends.

Currently, both you and Edgeworth have your noses buried in law books, Japanese translation dictionaries at each of your sides. As you look over to confirm the translation of a word, you take a sip from your water glass. You set it back down as you find the word and turn your attention back to the book.

Although, a second later, your gaze goes back to the water glass. More specifically, the way the water is trembling and sloshing against the sides of the glass.

You look across the table to the prosecutor, and he doesn’t seem to have noticed yet. His eyes are still locked on his book, although he doesn’t appear to be reading anything.

The shaking immediately intensifies into something frightening, the entire building beginning to tremble.

You look around in shock for a moment, the fear consuming you, before following the prosecutor’s league and taking cover under the table.

The risk of earthquakes is going to be higher in Japan - both Edgeworth and yourself know that - but it still doesn’t help how scary they are at first. They take your breath away and instantly fill you with fear, and if it does that to you, you can’t imagine how it makes Edgeworth feel.

You both take cover under the table, your knees to your chest and interlaced hands covering the top of your neck. Similarly, the prosecutor is curled in on himself, head buried into his knees. Even though the world around you is shaking, you can still see the trembling the man’s body is putting him through.

As the shaking continues, other people in the library beginning screaming in fright. Things start crashing to the ground, some thudding and others shattering. You screw your eyes shut, trying to focus on your breathing and keeping yourself calm.

You have no sense of time at the moment, as each second feels like a terrifying eternity, but even in spite of that you can realize how long this earthquake is lasting. It must be going on more than a minute now, possibly even more - certainly the longest one you’ve ever experienced. The crashing noises around you continue, each causing you to jump and your breathing to hitch.

After possibly the two-minute mark, you notice that Edgeworth is making noises. Quiet, panicked sounds that seem to be a mix between hyperventilation and hysteria. You unlatch your hands from your head and peek over at him. He’s holding his face in his hands, trembling nearly as much as the world around him.

Without a second thought, you sit up on your knees, taking your arms around his shoulders from the side. You pull him into you, protecting him and laying your head onto his shoulder.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper, trying to keep the tears out of your voice. “I’m so, so sorry… It’ll be over soon, just breathe… just breathe.”

“Soon” didn’t come until four minutes later.

By then, the prosecutor had been sobbing into your collarbone for at least a full minute, completely unconsolable and latching onto you for dear life. All you could do was hold him and continue whispering to him, trying to ground him in any way you could. You’d never seen him this distraught, and never thought you would have to. You were surprised he hadn’t gone unconscious.

When the shaking finally subsides, you breathe one of the biggest breaths of your life. It carries so much weight and brings tears to your eyes, but you fight against them for Edgeworth’s sake. You lean down close to him, holding him tightly to you. “Okay, it’s over now… it’s okay now, it’s okay… it’s over.”

He sobs for a few seconds more before trying to collect himself, taking deep, shuddering breaths as he tries to calm down. You continue to hold him, rubbing his back as both a comforting gesture for him and a grounding mechanism for yourself.

The two of you stay like that for approximately thirty seconds before you hear the siren.

It comes from far away, slowly making its way into your ears and brain. The recognition hits immediately, though, and your heart sinks just as quickly.

“… Oh, shit,” you exhale, a tremble in your voice. You act on pure instinct as you tap the prosecutor furiously, beginning to maneuver out from underneath the table. “Edgeworth, we have to get out of here, now.”

He isn’t in a rational state of mind right now - you know that - but as urgent as the situation is, you can no longer take the time to be gentle. You tug at his arms with all your might, pulling him out from under the table. You’re prepared to do whatever you have to do to get him out of here, no matter how bad you’ll feel about the way you treated him later.

“Y-Y/N, I… I can’t, I-I can’t do, I don’t-“

“Edgeworth, we have to leave now,” you say, bending down to be on his eye level. “We have to get out of this building and get to high ground, otherwise we are going to die. That is not a possibility, it is a certainty. I need you to get up and get out of this building with me and I need you to do it now.”

Something in your tone must cut through his panic and reach his mind. He looks at you shamefully for a moment before forcing himself to stand, still trembling uncontrollably.

The two of you exit the library in a slow jog, bursting out the door to reveal a scene of pure pandemonium.

People are flooding the streets, running in search of higher ground. The street itself is littered with debris from the earthquake - the roads are cracked open, pieces of buildings lay in the street, and some have even crumpled entirely. Cars are trying to evacuate in the midst of it all, which, although it seems smart, is one of the worst things to do. The streets are too crowded to move anywhere, and besides, there won’t be enough time to get far enough.

You frantically look at the nearby buildings in search of the tallest one, trying to ignore the frantic cries of people around you.

“What about that one?” Edgeworth suggests, pointing to a building atop a nearby embankment. It’s certainly the tallest one around, but it isn’t as close as you would like.

You sigh. “We’ll have to run.”

Edgeworth sniffs and sheepishly wipes his eyes before nodding.

You two take off in a run for the building, having to weave through other people trying to do the same thing you two are. You try not to push anyone and feel awful when you slam into a fair few people, but you keep pushing forward.

By the time you reach the embankment, the waves have surpassed the sea walls. You can hear the water, rushing quickly into the streets and already causing cars and people to be swept away. As you and Edgeworth climb the embankment, you don’t dare look back, not even with the people screaming in terror behind you.

When the door to the building is locked, Edgeworth kicks it in with one swift motion. You don’t know what kind of building it is and you don’t care - all you care about is climbing the stairs and reaching the roof.

It isn’t a tall building, but it’ll have to do. The rooftop should be far enough above sea level to avoid the waves, but you have no idea whether the building’s foundation will hold if the water ascends the embankment.

Once the two of you reach the roof, you simply stand there in shock for a few moments, taking in the scene around you.

The black sea water consumes the streets, cars floating along like rubber ducks in a bath. As if they weighed nothing at all. People stand on the roofs of the cars, holding on for dear life and looking scared out of their minds. A few people are stuck in the current of the water, being dragged along like rag dolls, unable to get themselves out. Other people are on tops of small buildings that are being pulled along with the current. Some are in trees, attempting to climb power lines, doing anything to escape the tsunami.

Very few are successful.

You decide soon that you can’t bear to watch anymore of the chaos and tragedy unfold. You turn to the prosecutor and bury your face into his chest, arms wrapped securely around yourself.

“I’m so scared…” you whisper weakly as his hands wrap securely around your upper arms. His hands tremble as he has a tight grip on your arms, and you can hear the fear in each breath he takes. A part of you doubts his tears have stopped falling since the beginning of the earthquake.

You stay like that, buried in Edgeworth’s chest, trying to will yourself out of this situation, for a minute or so. Or, at least until you feel the building beneath you shift.

You yank out of his grip with a startled gasp, tearful eyes looking out at the scene once again. The water has risen drastically.

You take a few steps closer to the ledge of the building and are horrified to see that the foundation is crumpling, bits of it being swept away by the huge, swarming darkness of the waves. Standing beside you, Edgeworth’s expression is full of terrified dread.

And suddenly, before either of you can move back to the center of the roof, the back wall of the building crumples in half beneath you. There is no time to react, no time to save yourselves.

One moment you are standing on the rooftop, and the next you are plummeting into the waves below.

—————

You can feel people’s footsteps shaking the ground around you.

You can hear jumbled voices, yelling frantically in a foreign language.

You can see a dirty, white ceiling above you, mixing with the black spots that dance around your vision.

It takes several minutes for your thoughts to turn back on. You start to remember things in chunks, the memories slamming into you like epiphanies.

The library. The earthquake. The tsunami. The building.

… Edgeworth.

You gasp and your heart constricts. Edgeworth, he was with you when the building collapsed. And if you’re here, then that must mean he is, too. Right?

You wince as you look to your left and right. Laying on the floor next to you are other people, some still unconscious, some awake, some…. neither. None of the people are Edgeworth which, depending on how you look at it, can be either a good thing or a bad thing. For you right now, though, it’s an awful thing.

You push yourself onto your elbows, grimacing as you do so. Your body is sore and stiff, covered in visibly scrapes and bruises. You don’t think you have any injuries that are more serious than that, which seems pretty miraculous to you.

You manage to get to your feet, standing still and surveying the area for a few moments before starting to walk around. The building is certainly not a hospital, but it’s been turned into a temporary one to most likely aide with the onslaught of tsunami victims. People cover the floors, laying on blankets and receiving amateur medical treatment for injuries that would usually require surgery.

You walk through the bustling halls in a daze, maneuvering your way through and around medical personnel and frantic family members. You look for any sign of gray hair, a red suit - anything that even remotely resembles Edgeworth. Your heart sinks with each person you pass that isn’t him.

Eventually, you enter a room packed with recovering people and spot a glimpse of red in the corner. You step forward quickly, trying to get a better view, to confirm your suspicions.

When you see his full form, curled up in the corner with his head bent to his chest, relief instantly floods your entire body. It’s an indescribable emotion, one you have never felt until this moment - until you thought you’d lost him.

“Miles,” you breathe out, feeling as if you and he are the only two people in the room.

He looks up immediately, tear-stained face shocked.

For a long moment, you two simply stare at each other, absorbing the moment, both of you trying to decipher if this is actually real. Once that moment is over, he scrambles up and rushes to toy, and you meet him halfway.

The embrace isn’t as much of a hug as it is a hold. A reassurance that the both of you are actually here, alive, together. It’s a desperate thing, the two of you gripping onto each other’s clothing tightly, unwilling to let go until you’re certain the other won’t fade away with the release.

The prosecutor is nearly frantic with worry and disbelief at first, but after the reassurance hits him, he dissuades from frenzy and instead settles into soft cries. You hold him tighter, your own tears streaming down your face as you try not to collapse from exhaustion. and relief.

“I… I thought I lost you, too,” Edgeworth manages, his voice soft and broken in a way that you’ve never heard it before. The poor man… one natural disaster is enough to live through, not to mention losing a parent on top of it. You can’t imagine how terrified he felt, and still feels, especially when you two became separated.

“I know, I know… It’ll be okay now, though… I promise.”

Edgeworth takes a deep, collecting breath before leaning his cheek against the top of your head, holding you close against him.

You have no idea how you two had both managed to survive, but you cant find the energy to worry about it. Right now, you simply bask in the fact that you two are alive and together - a fate that hardly anyone else got to experience amidst the tragedy. If it hadn’t turned out this way, you really don’t know if Edgeworth would have been able to take it.