#source: ten little roosters

[roosterforme]

The Younger Kind Part 23 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: As the trial date creeps closer, Bradley is having a harder time keeping himself from panicking. After you learn some interesting things about Bradley from an unlikely source, you do a little bit of digging. 

Warnings: Angst, swearing, smut, fluff, and age gap (18+)

Length: 3800 words

Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader

Check out my masterlist for more! The Younger Kind masterlist.

You slept in until ten. You were sore. The good kind. The kind where you couldn't stop smiling. As you sat up in Bradley's bed and stretched, your eyes caught on your purple crown. There was a piece of paper hanging from it now. You reached for it and read the note he had left for you.

Princess,

I left my computer and the charger in the kitchen. I also plugged your phone in before I left. There are Skittles in the kitchen cabinet. Please text me when you get up. Noah asked if you're staying for dinner. Please stay for dinner. 

I love you.

My computer password is password1234

You snorted and rolled your eyes. "Of course it is," you muttered, climbing out of bed and searching for something to wear. You made yourself some coffee with the vanilla creamer, and you spent the day filling out four job applications, eating Skittles, and attending a zoom lecture. You had done basically nothing strenuous, but by the time Bradley and Noah got back, you were yawning as you ran to see them. 

"Hello, boys," you said, kneeling to hug Noah. 

"Let's color dinosaurs," he told you, and you laughed as he led you to the table. 

"Don't I get a kiss or anything?" Bradley asked, unbuttoning his uniform shirt.

You looked at him and said, "You keep that on and I'll kiss you somewhere special later."

His hand paused on the buttons before doing them back up again. "Does that mean... you'd like me to have the uniform on later? Like after bedtime?"

You licked your lips and looked up at him, going for the most innocent look you could manage. "Please?"

Bradley grunted and kissed you a little rough. You tasted his tongue before pulling away from him. "I have dinosaurs to color," you informed him, dropping down onto the seat next to Noah. "And dinner is in the oven. I hope you like lasagna."

"You already know I'll eat anything you make," Bradley said, kissing you on the top of your head.

Noah tried to pronounce lasagna until you were barely holding in your laughter. "What's that?" he asked, handing you a pink crayon.

"It's kind of like spaghetti," you promised, coloring in a tyrannosaurus rex. "I already know you like spaghetti, so I'm just trying to expand your palate."

"Okay," he said with a shrug. "Can I have ants on logs?"

You knew he was going to ask, so you had already made them. When you took the container out of the refrigerator, Noah and Bradley had them polished off in a matter of minutes. "Your weekly grocery bill is probably more than mine is for the month."

"I don't doubt it, Princess," Bradley said, biting into the last carrot stick, still in that sinfully hot uniform. "Let's eat dinner, and then I'll clean up while you and Noah play."

"And then you'll take me home?" you asked cautiously looking up at him where he stood.

"Do you want me to?"

You didn't answer him. You just turned back toward the coloring book while he pulled dinner out of the oven. Did you want to leave? And go back to your tiny, lonely rental? No. You were still wearing Bradley's clothes, and you kind of wanted some more of your own stuff, but you didn't want to leave. Not really. You said nothing, and he didn't ask again. 

He did everything else to get dinner on the table. He plated the food, got drinks, and set the table. Then after everyone including Noah enjoyed the meal, he cleaned up. "You don't want help?" you asked, scooping Noah up in your arms. "Then we're going to watch some Mickey Mouse while we play with blocks."

"Sounds good," he said, putting some foil on the leftover. "Love you," he added casually as you took Noah into the other room. No, you did not want to leave.

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

Bradley was still wearing his uniform. He'd tried to change out of the shirt twice now, but both times you had stopped him. Noah was looking a little sleepy, and Bradley didn't know what you wanted to do. He wanted you to stay over again. He wanted you to stay over until he got through the court appearance on Wednesday and hopefully returned home with Noah, free and clear of Meredith. But honestly, he wanted you with him longer than that.

"Princess?" he asked softly, and you stood up from the pile of blocks that Noah was working on.

"Yes, Daddy?" you asked, standing right in front of him and smirking. If he was alone with you right now, that smirk would be gone in an instant. 

"I need an answer, Baby. You want me to drive you home before I put Noah in bed for the night?"

Your hands found his waist as you gazed up at him. "I want to stay here, but I don't want to distract you leading up to Wednesday."

"Stay," he sighed. "Stay. We can swing by your place and pick up some of your things and then come right back here, okay? Stay."

So that's exactly what the three of you did. Bradley stayed in the Bronco with Noah while you ran inside your place for a couple minutes, and you came out with your usual tote bag plus a backpack. 

"You don't mind if I keep using your computer, right?" you asked before you climbed back in the front seat.

"You can use anything at my place."

The smile you gave him in response had him thinking about asking you things he had no business asking you yet. He closed his eyes briefly before putting the Bronco in reverse and heading back to his house. When you reached for his hand in the dying light, he held yours. And when you asked to turn on the playlist you made for Noah, he fell even more in love with you. 

Noah was half asleep by the time Bradley carried him inside, and when he reemerged from his son's room, you had changed into your own clothes. Bradley kind of missed his oversized shirts on you.

"I have a fun idea, Daddy," you said, and he was practically salivating in response. "I'm going to teach you how to cook."

His brow furrowed and he gave you a look. "That doesn't sound fun at all."

Your laughter in response had him agreeing with you anyway, and you were immediately coaxing him into the kitchen. "We can use up all of your food, and tomorrow I can go grocery shopping for you if you want. I could drop you and Noah off in the morning and then use your car."

"Baby, it's not a car.... it's a Bronco. And you can use it if you promise to be very, very careful with her. You can't park next to the cart return. Actually, you can't really park by anything. No trees, no shrubs, no other cars. Nothing."

You were trying not to laugh, he could tell. "Sure, Daddy. No problem. Now let's start cooking."

He kissed you softly. "You gonna let me change out of my uniform yet?"

"Don't ask me stupid questions. Of course not. You look hot. Now go ahead and grab all of the ingredients for this recipe," you told him, handing him your phone. He sighed and skimmed a recipe for chicken stir fry.

"Princess, there's no way I'm going to be able to make this," he murmured.

"That's an order, Lieutenant Bradshaw!" you snapped, and Bradley was instantly looking at you. "Or I'll make you do fifty push ups!" 

"That's nothing, Baby. I'll do a hundred for you," he said with a smirk, but what he got in response was a slap on his ass. 

"Get to work," you told him, hopping up on the counter with a bag of Skittles and a no-nonsense look on your face.

"Oh, shit," he mumbled, reading through the recipe again.

"And that dinner better be edible, or I'm not going to suck your cock, Lieutenant."

"Yes, ma'am." He read the recipe a third time before he got the chicken out of the refrigerator. Bradley was starting to get a little nervous about Meredith, but you were certainly helping him keep his mind off of that. He got a cutting board and a knife ready along with some vegetables. 

"Don't forget the salt," you whispered, holding out a green Skittle and popping it in his mouth. 

"Thank you," he whispered back. And you kept offering him little hints here and there. You told him he was cutting the vegetables too small, and then you fed him a purple Skittle. You told him the oil needed to be hotter, and then you fed him a yellow one. You reminded him to keep moving the food around in the pan, and then you let him take a red Skittle from between your lips with his mouth.

"You're better at cooking than you think," you told him. "Noah won't have to keep eating boxed foods."

"That's really your goal here, isn't it?" he asked you, pushing his sweaty hair back from his forehead with his forearm.

"Of course. I'm not worried about you. I'm worried about him," you replied with a playful eye roll. "What's he supposed to eat when I'm not around?"

"Why would you not be around?" he asked cautiously. Then his mind started swarming with thoughts of Noah living with Meredith. 

He watched you chew on a Skittle before you softly said, "I'll be around." Your eyes dipped down his chest to his pins and buttons. You looked so young and sweet, and you reached for the knob to turn the burner off. "Don't want it to burn."

Bradley nodded and got a plate down. He carefully scooped some of the hot food onto the plate and handed it to you for inspection. "Give me a fork, Lieutenant," you commanded, and Bradley grabbed one from the drawer while you blew on the food. "I just ordered you a rice cooker and an apron from Amazon. The rice cooker will make your life easier, and you'll look cute in an apron that says Hot Daddy."

Bradley laughed as you raised the fork to your lips. "Thank you, but baby, I don't want you spending your money on me. You haven't even graduated yet."

"Just pretend like you never paid me to watch Noah, okay? I don't like that you ever did."

"Okay," he whispered, placing one hand on either side of you where you sat on the kitchen counter. He watched you take a bite of the chicken, and you moaned softly. Then you tried some of the vegetables before you fed him a bite.

"It's so good. And I barely helped you at all."

Bradley was actually impressed that he'd made something that tasted that nice. "So I have no excuse now but to make Noah a homemade dinner? Is that what you're saying?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying," you said, smiling at him as he set the plate aside. "You know how to cook, Lieutenant. I'm so proud of you."

He leaned in and rubbed his nose against yours before kissing you. "Do you still want me to do push ups for you?"

"Kind of," you replied, kissing his mustache. "Just because it would be sexy." 

Bradley did fifty push ups while you stood in front of him and counted them off, and he looked up at your legs and your denim shorts the whole time. 

"Damn, Daddy," you groaned as he hopped up when he was done like it was nothing. "My boyfriend is so strong!" He didn't even have time to respond before you were unzipping his pants and slipping your hand inside. 

When you knelt in front of him, he said, "You weren't kidding about sucking my cock, huh?"

"Not at all," you whispered looking up at him. Your lips were glossy again. Whatever you grabbed from your house, it must have included your lip stuff. God, he loved the way you looked. He loved the way you felt. He loved your tongue, licking the bead of his precum away as you stroked him with your hands.

"You're really fucking good at this," he moaned as you wrapped your lips around him and sucked gently. He stroked your cheek as you took him a little deeper, swirling your tongue as he throbbed. "Goddamn it." The slow, deliberate drag of your lips along his length was enough to make him buck gently.

You moaned around him before pulling him free, and then Bradley was treated to you sucking on his balls until he was panting. "Baby," he whined, his cock resting on your face. You weren't going to let him go any faster. He couldn't decide if fast or slow was what he wanted, so he left you in charge. 

And he was not disappointed when you licked him from balls to tip and said, "I want you to cum on my face."

He ran his knuckles along your cheek and chin. "You're so gorgeous, Princess. I'd love to paint you up and make you even prettier."

"Daddy," you whined before taking him so deep he saw stars. You bobbed along his length, gagging as you tried to take all of him. Your hand was cupping his balls and your saliva was dripping onto the floor as you gagged again. You looked up at him with watery eyes, and this time when he stroked your cheek, he could feel himself.

"So good," Bradley growled. "God, you're the best."

You sucked and bobbed until he was sure he was going to lose his mind, and then he withdrew with a snap of his hips. He stroked himself twice, whispered, "I'm about to cum," and then he watched you flinch and giggle as ribbons of white landed on your cheeks and lips. His cum hit your nose, and then you opened your mouth for him.

"Fuck," he grunted, pumping every last bit onto your beautiful features, and then he was between your lips again as you licked him clean.

"Baby, don't move," he begged, scrambling to find his phone. "Will you let me take a picture?"

"Yes," you said with a laugh, licking him from your lips. "You can add it to your dirty photo album. Remember the passcode?"

"I sure do," he grunted, snapping a few pictures of you kneeling on his kitchen floor with his cum on your face. And then he was kneeling too and kissing you and telling you he loved you. 

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

You slept better in Bradley's arms than you ever did at home. He told you once you were curled up in his bed with him that he was getting nervous about the custody hearing. You tried to be encouraging. "There's no way anyone would let someone take Noah away from you. You're his only parent as far as he's concerned. He only knows love from you, Bradley."

"And you," he said softly. Warmth filled your heart as he added, "Noah knows that you love him. He lights up around you, and he's just as comfortable with you as he is with me. You're the best thing that ever happened to us."

You were supposed to be the one comforting him. But you ended up dozing off in his arms filled with hope instead. The next morning, he let you drive his Bronco "as a test" on the way to Noah's daycare. You had offered to keep Noah with you for the day instead, but Bradley insisted you spend your time finishing your school projects. 

"Okay," Bradley said as you parked in the daycare lot. "I'm fine with you driving the Bronco around. Do you remember the rules about parking lots?"

"Oh my god," you mumbled. "You're really not going to get Noah out and move along with your day until I answer correctly, are you?"

"No." His face looked serious as you laughed and promised you wouldn't park next to the cart return, another car or any sort of living plant.

"That's my Princess," he crooned, running Noah inside once you'd said goodbye to him. Then you dropped Bradley off at work, but this time, you crawled across the seat to straddle his lap for a moment.

"I love you," he whispered as you combed your fingers through his hair and kissed him. 

"I love you too, Daddy. I'll pick you up here at five," you promised, pressing your forehead to his. "And then I'll cuddle you all night, and you won't be worried about tomorrow at all. I can see on your face that you're thinking about Meredith. But think about Noah instead."

He wrapped his arms around you and sighed. "I'm always thinking about Noah. And you. And us." He kissed you one last time, and you let him climb out. "I love you, Princess."

You waved to him on the sidewalk, and then Jake joined him, and you waved to both of them. Then you stuck your head out the window and called out, "Can't wait to have you again later, Bradley! Oh, hi, Jake."

Then you started the engine again as your boyfriend laughed while Jake walked away. If you could at least make him laugh today, maybe that would make dealing with tomorrow a little easier. But it was hard not to think about what he and Noah might be up against. You couldn't let yourself dwell on it. Instead you drove to the grocery store with Bradley's credit card tucked inside your wallet.

You got all the staples, including your coffee creamer and everything you would need to make a big batch of ants on logs. Then you picked out some things you could teach Bradley how to make along with everything Noah liked. And you spent over two hundred dollars. Bradley had assured you that you could get whatever you thought they all needed and put it on his credit card. 

You were skimming the receipt as you pushed your cart to the Bronco. "Yikes," you muttered, loading bag after bag into the back, extra careful not to bump his precious vehicle with the cart. Then you closed it up and took the cart to the return. 

Just as you were digging his key out of your pocket, you looked up. You made eye contact with Meredith. She was standing there, right next to the Bronco.

"What do you want?" you asked. Your voice sounded strong, and you realized you were not even slightly intimidated by this woman when Noah wasn't with you. What could she really do to you in the middle of a parking lot at nearly ten in the morning?

She looked angry, eyeing you up and down and glancing at the Bronco. "I can't believe he lets you drive that. It's worth a fortune," she said, tossing her blonde hair over her shoulder and scowling. 

The car key was digging into your clenched fist, but you didn't close the distance to her. "Let me rephrase my question: What the fuck do you want, Meredith?"

"Such a filthy mouth on you. And you're spending time with my child," she said casually. "Lovely."

"Are you following me?"

She rolled her eyes, and you hated her so much. You supposed you could see how she was physically attractive, but you only felt the desire to kick her. 

"I'm not following you. I'm about to go grocery shopping. This is the store I always come to. But I wouldn't mind chatting a bit. I'd be more than happy to use your potty mouth and the fact that you're sleeping with Bradley against him in court."

You laughed out loud. "Well, you'd have to actually show up first. Are you going to be there tomorrow? Or run and hide at the last minute again?"

Her scowl was back. "You have a lot of questions, huh? Well, so do I. Is all that life insurance money still in an account for Noah? Or did you spread your legs open wide enough to get Bradley to pay for your little nursing degree?"

You gasped out loud. You would never do that. You loved Noah and Bradley. And now you were afraid you'd just walked into a trap. Meredith was looking at you from ten feet away like it was a showdown. One that she intended to win, because she brought the correct ammunition when you clearly had not. 

"I guess the money is still there then," she said, starting to look more satisfied. "You know he'll never commit to you, right? He was always afraid of commitment."

"Yet you're the one who abandoned her child," you said softly, but not without conviction. 

She took a step closer to you, venom in her voice. "I didn't want to be held down, but things change."

"Do you even want him? Or are you just trying to get back at Bradley?" you asked, unable to stop yourself. "Because Noah deserves a family who loves him. You left them. But Bradley loves him. Bradley would do anything for him."

Her voice was like steel. "And I deserve a lot more than what I'm getting." She spun on her heel and started to charge away.

"What does that mean?!" you called after her. But she didn't stop or turn back. "Meredith!" You got nothing but the back of her blonde hair, and then she was in her BMW and driving away.

"What the hell?" you muttered to yourself, hands shaking as you put the key in the ignition and started the Bronco. You had to sit for a minute until you were calm enough to drive. Thank goodness you hadn't kept Noah with you today. Thank goodness you'd been alone. And at least Bradley didn't have to deal with this either. 

Oh, he was going to be so upset when you told him later. He'd be mad you didn't interrupt him at work this instant, but you weren't going to do that. You needed to get back to his house right away and get on his computer. Carefully, you put the Bronco in drive. Apparently this thing was worth a fortune. Bradley had a nice house, and he probably paid a pretty penny for Noah's fancy daycare. He told you to spend his money on whatever you wanted at the grocery store. But there was some sort of life insurance money, too? What was going on here?

Your brain was swimming, or maybe drowning as you parked in Bradley's driveway and forced yourself to carry in the groceries and put all of the food away before you locked the front door behind you and turned his computer on. You entered his ridiculous password which you were definitely going to have to make him change, and you started your search. 

Hours went by, and you subsided on only coffee. Then you checked the time on your phone. It was almost five o'clock. You were going to be late to pick them up, and now you had more questions than answers as you ran back out to the Bronco.

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

Okay, Meredith. Okay. Daddy will see you in the courtroom. Hope you enjoy your fic, @beyondthesefourwalls And thank you @mak-32 !

PART 24

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[xihe1874]

Hello darling! 😘

Another prompt for you, if inspiration strikes.

One idiot overhears the other idiot talks to his bestfriend about the crush he has on this wonderful person [he monologues for a few minutes]. The first idiot is heartbroken because he thinks he doesn't stand a chance now! The other idiot is taken! :(

BUT.

BIG. REVEAL.

*bombadaboum*

The other idiot's crush is actually the first idiot!

[Could work with either Bradley or Jake :P]

[Dare me to find a sillier prompt then that! XD]

Wait, what do you mean by "silly"??? This is one of the most amazing prompts I have ever seen!!! I mean, mutual pining and idiots in love??? Oh I love that!! Thank you so much for sending this to me ❤️

(Hiii my dear long long long time no see! I am sorry for getting back to you so late 🥲 Hope you will enjoy this stupid story 😘)

“Let's play ten fingers.”

Halo's suggestion earned a round of applause.

“And the one who is the first to run out of fingers needs to answer questions from all of the others. Like a Truth or Truth.”

Hangman squinted at the Squad and flipped the toothpick with his tongue.

“Can I skip it?”

“What, you are afraid that your dark little secrets may be revealed, Bagman?” Phoenix rolls her eyes.

Well.

Actually.

He kept his eyes strictly forward and clenched his fists under the table to avoid looking at a certain brunette.

“Just think it would be boring is all.” He shrugged nonchalantly.

“Let's do it.”

Hangman snapped his head to the source of this voice that's too familiar.

Although he's probably addressing the whole table, Rooster was staring at him pointedly, his brown honey eyes totally unreadable.

He gave another bored shrug, but his heart was beating frantically in his chest.

Come on, Jake, put yourself together. It's just a normal stupid game.

It's nothing but a normal stupid game.

The questions, if he hadn't known better, sounded like they were meticulously plotted.

(“Never have I ever grown a moustache.”I mean, could you be more obvious, people?)

(“Never have I ever played 'Great Balls of Fire' on the piano in Hard Deck.” Oh, they actually could.)

Rooster, amiable as ever, just shook his head with an amused grin and put down one finger, and Hangman just loved him a bit more.

His turn. He cleared his throat.

“Never have I ever worn glasses in my life.”

Bob let out a small groan and put down one finger.

Hangman flashed his teeth at the poor guy. Sorry, man, Seresins always got perfect eyesight.

Another three questions, and Rooster only got one finger left.

Hangman was not anxious. Not at all. He just got sweaty palms and speeded heart rate and… 

OK, he was anxious. 

A chance to ask Rooster questions which he could only answer the truth.

What did he want to ask?

What do you think of me?

Do you think of me at all?

Sometimes I think you were looking at me, but when I turned, you always looked away. Were you really looking at me?

Why did you look at me?

Will you punch me if I kiss you?

Do you like me?

He was too caught up in his own thoughts that he almost missed Yale's statement.

“Never have I ever had a crush.”

“No way!”

“That's not true!!”

Despite the protest, the Daggers still reluctantly put down their fingers. 

OK.

So Rooster had had a crush before. Or more than one.

No big deal. Totally, totally no big deal.

Hangman was so jealous that he could explode on the spot.

Fritz whistled.

“Rooster!!”

And then they chanted (like the bunch of idiots they were).

“Rooster, Rooster, Rooster—”

“All right, all right.” There was a faint blush high on his cheekbone. “Shoot your questions.”

“So, regarding your crush, or crushes.” Phoenix wiggles her left eyebrow. “Do you still have one right now?”

The blush reddened. Rooster gave a curt nod.

Uh-oh.

“Have you told them?” 

Rooster sighed. “No. Don't think they are interested.”

He sounded defeated and wishful. So Rooster really liked this lucky bastard.

Engine failure. Repeat, Engine Failure.

“Can you describe them?” 

“They are… ” There were some faraway looks in Rooster's eyes, like a daydream. “... Not the traditional version of warm or kind at the first sight. Aggressive, competitive, arrogant. An asshole, to sum it up.” He chuckled, and Hangman’s heart contracted a bit. “But as time goes up, they kind of… grow on you. Deep, deep down, they are actually loyal and sweet. Brilliant as hell, too.”

Silence. 

Hangman's heart didn't exist any more.

“So…” Beside him, Fanboy made an attempt to ease the tense in the air. “I take it that they are beautiful?”

Hangman focused on the glass on his hand.

“The most beautiful person I have ever seen.”

OK.

That's it. He couldn't stand it any longer.

He stood up so abruptly that his chair was knocked over. Rooster's eyes snapped to him.

“Need some air. Sorry.”

He gestured vaguely and escaped like the heartbroken coward he was.

“Hangman, you OK?”

Damn Rooster and his big kind shiny heart.

He didn't turn around. The sky was quite grey today.

“Finally finished waxing poetic about your stupidly perfect lover?” He spat despite himself. “Never took you for a romantic, Rooster.”

When there was no reply behind him for one minute, Hangman shut his eyes and sighed. Driving away the only person he had ever loved with this bitter jealousy? He would definitely die alone, thank you.

“You haven't asked your question.”

Hangman startled. 

“Well, if you still can't catch it by now, I don't have the faintest interest in your unrequited love, Bradshaw—” He turned around and was taken back by the hurt in Rooster's eyes.

God. Why was he always like that?

He rushed to apologize, but Rooster just shook his head and repeated.

“You haven't asked your question.”

They were standing quite close, Hangman realized dimly.

And Rooster was gazing at him with his gorgeous eyes.

“Were you talking about me just now?”

Wait, what?

WHAT?

Oh shit. He said that aloud.

Shitshitshitshitshit.

Oh god.

He squeezed his eyes shut and was unwilling to see the disgust on Rooster's face.

“Yes.”

God, he's going to hate me for…

Wait.

WHAT???

He opened his eyes.

There was only an inch between them and there was something akin to hope in Rooster’s eyes.

“What?” He whispered.

“You can only ask one question.” Rooster whispered back, his breach caressing Hangman's lips.

“Then can I switch to dare?”

“It depends.”

“I dare you to kiss me.”

And then Rooster's lips were on his. And then everything was perfect and perfect.

“So, I grew on you, huh?”

 “Don't get so smug.”

“I am the most beautiful you've ever seen?”

“Oh for god's sake, shut up, Seresin.”

“Make me, Bradshaw.”

Everything was perfect.

[missmarveledsblog]

Puppy love (Bradley Bradshaw x Reader)

Summary : when a love sick man remembers every little detail and will do anything to make his girl smile ... even surprise her with a dog

Warnings : Rooster being a simp and lovesick fool , its short and sweet little drabble

part of the It's fate series but can be read alone

It was a process then it was a need and he could only blame the  animal shelter for bringing it all up and making the idea stick in his head but it was fate and hell he wasn’t turning it down  . First he was only there as good deed anyways some shit heap of a person drop a box of kittens off at the base so. he offered to take them since well he wanted to and secondly he wanted to . he would of brought them home only well, there was ten of them and needed someone to be home 24/7 at the moment neither could do that maybe four days he could but no more as he wanted to say his leave for the summer so two could go on their road trip  a  road trip staying in Texas for week then heading to Virginia for another week but they planned to stay in places along the way so box of six kittens wouldn’t be fair to take even for the kittens not to get the care they would need . The lady at shelter couldn’t thank him enough for bringing them because it would of been fatal if he just ignored them , While he was waiting to hear if they were ok he decided to have a look , nothing wrong with looking right . It’s what he told himself at each wagging tail and puppy looks that where sent his way .  Then he was thinking of their first date how excited she was at the prospect of him having a dog . 

The thought of it ,well stuck in his mind days later , almost plaguing his mind then one day he was going to get  something for dinner knowing she stuck at parent teacher conferences .  so being the best fiance  he was going to get her favorite food and snacks , bottle of her favorite beers and some flowers . what he didn’t expect was to walk past an alley on his way back to his bronco only to hear a small cry . first he thought he was hearing things , but then he heard it again so incase it was lost kid or  baby he decided to investigate. The cardboard box was the source  as he approached it was clear that was where the noise came from. Now he was nervous his hand shook not knowing what he would find only when he pulled the flap  back to reveal a pair of piercing blue eyes and cutest little face looking back at him .Falling in love instantly as he shifted the bags and lifted the scared shaken little bundle of brown and white fur into his arms 

“ what hell is going on with people dumping babies lately” he cooed down to the little face .  “ lets get you check out buddy” he walked off back to his bronco instantly knowing he wasn’t going to the shelter this time . 

 He stood wondering how he was going to break this to her , both back other than a little thin the little guy was fine and after a bath and feeding the little guy was tuckered out in the new bed surrounded by a plethora of  toys ( he may of went over board) . He went got it all toys , training pads , food and whatever else a puppy needed .  He was more nervous now , knowing she was going to be home any minute he had her food heated and glass of wine ready , along with her favorite chocolates and flowers place . He didn’t know why he was nervous she love dogs and puppy but maybe it was the fact he done it all in the space of hours but hey he knows not to turn down fate and that what it was . He heard the key turning , the door opening and when it closed the little feet speeding off before he could even grasp what was happening . followed by what he thinks are barks or a squeaky toy going off either was plausible now. 

“ bradley radley brooster what in the world did you do” her voice called out as he wince closing his eyes hearing her steps coming . 

“ ok so hear me out … he was left in a box in an alley, like who leaves a baby in an alley in a box and moment i look in those eyes he was all like hey handsome love the mustache will you take me home crazy right “ he chuckled nervously finally looking at her . “ well then i was like tiny dude i need to ask the hottest woman alive and he was all like she’ll love me come on don’t be lame and  honestly pretty girl he’s right i would be lame so meet this little guys bad influence but he’s cute” . 

“ have my kindergarteners been teaching you to lie ?” she snorted . “ could of lied better and said you got him for me” she shrugged sitting on the sofa easily looking up as  the pup snuggled in her arms . 

“ fine don’t believe me but when he starts talking to you don’t be freaked out “ he sat down wrapping his arm around her pulling her close to his side. 

“ about time ya got one , you been wanting a dog a lot lately” she sigh happily laying her head on his shoulder .

“ how you know that and pass buddy  here get your dinner “

“ you named him buddy  … oh and  you talk in your sleep brooster “ she winked as she headed off into the kitchen .  “  first a puppy and now all this ,oh you are so  getting laid tonight “ she called back .

“ knew getting you was fate” he grinned brightly. 

The moment the two stepped foot on the beach the weekly game was completely forgotten as the dagger squad charged towards the couple.  Sort of deja vu of being in her classroom washed over as they began asking questions on top of each other eagerly trying to pet the puppy . 

“ ok kids settle down and one at time your gonna scare our little buddy here “ she held her hand up as they all halted . 

“ seriously gotta teach me how you do that “ Mav shook his head patting the pups head. 

“ i found him in an alley and took him to vet  then home”  bradley smiled proudly. 

“ bought out the puppy section too left that part out “ she rolled her eyes  but she knew if it was reversed well she would of done the same . 

“ we have the dog , the house … we need to get a new house “ bradley looked at her shocked . 

“ what’s wrong with our house “ she laughed . 

“ its fine for now but when we start having kids gonna need a bigger one “ he winked. 

“ stick with dogs for now broody brooster “ she pat his back taking buddy from his arms  as she and nat headed for their usually spot . 

“ Dog , marriage and then baby is it ?” he asked. 

“  we’ll see how it goes brooster now go play “ she laughed nudging her head out to the beach . 

" marriage then babies " jake stood arms crossed.

" jake seresin you are not my daddy and even if you were he sure as hell wont be telling me how to live my life , hell if wanna have a baby brooster i will, i don't need a ring " she glared .

" dude are you trying to get me a kid because if so thanks that should work" .

" we ain't having kids yet we got a baby already " she kissed the puppy .

[takadasaiko]

Thirty-Five Years (a Top Gun fic)

Summary: When Rooster is forced to eject from his fighter, things don't go as planned.

FFN II AO3

While their deployments had collectively gotten shorter once the United States Navy had decided to keep the Dagger Squadron together, the stakes for each mission that they went on had become significantly higher. Why else would they send the best of their best in if any man would do?

And it was a good thing they did, too, because not just anyone could maneuver their way through the situation that they found themselves in. It was supposed to be a covert mission. Four F-18s. Four Daggers. Rooster led in as Dagger One, Phoenix and Bob following up as Dagger Two, Hangman was Three, and Coyote Four. The plan was to get in and out before anyone ever saw them coming. Or leaving, so they'd hoped. Not that things ever went quite as planned.

Shouts sounded off over the radio system coordinating between the four aircrafts to avoid missiles and bullets and enemy aircraft that just about clipped Phoenix's nose clear off her Hornet. Voices overlapped, yet all five pilots knew exactly how to communicate with one another. This wasn't their first rodeo. Hell, they'd all thought they were good before they'd bombed the facility in Iran. If you asked any one of them, they'd only gotten better since. They'd certainly learned to become a better team.

"Smoke in the air!" Coyote yelled out. "Dagger Three, break right!"

Rooster risked the quickest glance he could manage over to where a missile was aimed directly at Hangman. It never made it to him, though. He broke right, just as Coyote had shouted, but then he pulled back and throttled upward, nose pointed at the sun high in the sky to disorient the fighter gaining on his tail. He loosed a round of flares that struck the missile and it exploded in the air where he'd been moments before.

The shouts continued and Rooster broke hard to the left, shaking what might have turned into a tail as the other craft sped right by him. They might be the best the Navy had to offer in a dogfight, but they were across enemy lines and that same enemy would wisen up and launch more fighters if they didn't end this now. He was team leader. It was his call. They needed to finish this and get home. "I got a path!" he shouted. "Goin' in!"

"I've got your wing," Hangman answered and Rooster bit back a snarky retort. Time and place, Bradshaw. Time and place.

The two fighters swung around to where the weapons depot was tucked away at the edge of the cliffs, snug and hard to get to from the low altitude that they'd been forced into. Missles launched, cutting off the intended path and driving both Hornets out a little further to the left and the right than originally intended. Rooster ground out a low curse. "I've lost my angle."

"I've got it," Hangman answered and shifted into position. And just like that, Rooster was the wingman. Funny, it wasn't long ago that neither of them would have found themselves quite so flexible when it came to the kill shot.

Hangman was barreling ahead even as Rooster's alert systems started to scream. He took a quick look around through the canopy, searching for the source. There. A hanger built into the side of the mountain and a next gen fighter on its way towards them. This could be a problem. "Dagger Three, tally one, ten o'clock high!"

He received a grunt of acknowledgement as Hangman stayed on target. Rooster swallowed his argument. They had a mission to complete, and if Hangman had the shot, he'd make sure he didn't get his ass blown to hell while taking it.

The fighter sped out and Rooster broke far enough off to engage, but never quite leaving Hangman's wing. The other pilot was fast, but inexperienced. Whatever training the locals had been promised to accompany their shiny new toys clearly hadn't been completed. This guy was all power, but little skill. Rooster feigned left, broke right, and got a lock. Missiles away he veered even further back, just in time to see Hangman's own missile drop hit home, the weapons depot that had gone against every treaty signed in the last fifty years exploding into the air.

And kept exploding.

The fire built on itself, whatever was stored down there a ton more powerful than their intel had indicated to them. The celebratory cheers were quickly cut off as the flames leapt up towards both Rooster and Hangman's Hornets, the two aviators cutting off towards the ocean to escape the bursts of fire and shrapnel. Rooster jolted forward, his fighter's warning systems screaming at him and he stared at it for half a second longer than he should have. Shit. nothing like literally having your tail on fire.

But things could always get worse.

A second fighter swooped out of the plumes of smoke and into his line of sight. Bullets scattered across Hangman's Hornet and the other man loosed a curse out over the radio, dodging and releasing a burst of flares that only bought him a few seconds. "I'm out!" he shouted.

Every warning system was screaming at Rooster. He was losing his fighter, the damage spreading and no matter what he did he couldn't extinguish the flames. It was a goner, but the problem was that no one else was close enough to get the enemy fighter off of Hangman. He might make it. He was a talented pilot, but he was outgunned, if not out manned. It was a risk a team leader shouldn't take. It was a risk Rooster wasn't willing to take.

It all happened in what felt like a fraction of a second. He punched it, using speed that only fueled the flames on his own fighter to shift into alignment, loosing his last missile at the enemy fighter and seeing it strike before it could take Hangman out of the air. Alarms blared and he grabbed the ejection handle between his legs and pulled hard. The canopy shattered, he was jettisoned upward, and his fighter exploded beneath him.

Everything went black.

---

As with all dogfights, it had all happened so fast. He couldn't even say that he had gotten an air-to-air kill in, no matter how hard he'd tried to flip the script on the next gen fighter that had been on his tail. He was fast. Too fast. And Hangman had been running low on every type of ammo.

But his wingman had come through. And then Rooster's fighter had just… exploded. Phoenix screamed his name over the open radio and Hangman immediately swung his fighter around. "I've got chute!" he shouted, catching sight of it between the falling debris and flames. He just couldn't see what shape the other aviator was in, even as he descended through the heavy smoke and towards the ocean below.

The base was destroyed, what was left of the personnel and pilots that had been held up there had bugged out, and the only relief found in the orders to return to the carrier was that they were sending search and rescue for Rooster. Not that the daggers could do anything for him in their F-18s. All they could do was return and wait.

Debrief came and went, the four remaining pilots stiff and silent when they weren't giving their report to the admiral that had overseen the mission. None of them had known him prior to shipping out and he didn't appear to be the sharing type. Hangman recounted the details as he'd seen them, and somehow his missing squad mate made the truth a little easier to ground out than it might have been if they were all celebrating on the deck together: Rooster had saved his life.

The helicopter was landing as they made their way back to the deck after being dismissed. Jake risked a glance to his right to see Phoenix looking like she was coiled and ready to spring forward. Anyone less disciplined might have as they waited for the doors to slide open to see if Rooster strutted out on his own with all the luck he clearly had picked up from his godfather or….

"He's gonna be okay," Bob shouted over the sound of the rotors powering down.

The door slid open and a Navy medic was the first out, taking the end of an occupied stretcher. Already hooked up to some sort of IV bag was the prone form of their squad mate and Hangman squinted against the sun that was starting its downward dip for the day. Blood caked Rooster's face that hadn't been washed off by the waves. His flightsuit was a mess, simultaneously soaked through and burned in places. The medics had peeled it away from his shoulders and removed his undershirt, likely to get a better look at his injuries. It looked like there was a temporary bandage lining his ribcage, blood seeping through. Hangman couldn't hear it with the sounds of the carrier all around them, but he saw the injured aviator grimace as the second medic eased out, jolting the stretcher. Behind the two medics came another man with a familiar red helmet in his hand.

"Shit," Phoenix managed.

"He's alive. And conscious," Coyote pointed out.

"Not sure the last one is a plus right this second," Hangman muttered and tilted his head towards the far end of the deck that would lead them around the long way to the medical bay. If they moved fast enough, they might be able to catch someone with some answers without getting in their way.

—

Bob's surprised shout at seeing Rooster's fighter's tail on fire had been what had drawn Phoenix's attention away from her pursuit of the fleeing enemy craft, but the explosion had kept it. The sparks from the raging fire trying to drag the Hornet out of the sky had mixed with the controlled explosion that kept Rooster from ejecting directly into his canopy, but even though he'd clearly punched out, he didn't get enough space between him and the fighter before the explosion had thrown him. She'd watched it happen. She'd seen the pressure slam into him, ripping his chute outward towards the ocean - a saving grace. The cliff side probably would have killed him - and had known that shrapnel and burning debris was following, even as he'd dipped down beneath the plumes of smoke that had made it impossible to see exactly where he hit the water below.

But it hadn't killed him. That much they knew on deck and saw a bit closer up, even if the medics had shoved all four of them out into the corridor. She'd locked eyes with him - bruises already starting to form around them, showing signs of a broken nose - and he'd offered her a struggling smile that barely tilted his lips and a weak thumbs up to prove he was with them. As they were ushered out, Phoenix had sunk down against the wall.

While the medics weren't keen on updates, at least no one forced them to leave their doorway vigil. Bob went and got coffee and water for them all, and at one point Coyote had to step away for a brief moment, but mostly they just waited in silence. The five spares that had been waiting on deck in case they needed to join the first wave of Dagger Squadron dropped by to check in, but the narrow corridor had become too crowded far too fast and the four that had been out there with him had been given preferential standing space as long as they swore to let the others know when they got an update.

So they waited, the three men leaning against the wall with Phoenix on the floor, a half finished and very cold cup of coffee held loosely in her hands. "Did you know it'll be thirty-five years in a few days?"

She could practically feel three sets of eyes turn on her at the first words spoken between them in at least an hour. "Since what?" Coyote asked, shifting against the wall.

Phoenix looked up, dark eyes flickering between her squad mates. She knew him the best out of all of them. Moments like this reminded her of that. "Since his dad died."

Hangman actually winced at that. "Bad ejection, wasn't it?"

"Yeah."

"But he's okay," Bob said quickly and Phoenix shrugged.

"He's alive," she corrected.

The words had barely left her mouth when the door they'd practically been guarding for hours now opened, revealing a very tired looking doctor. To her credit, she didn't look startled even though all four aviators were immediately on her, firing off questions that overlapped. She held up her hand. "He's stable. And awake, but he needs to rest. I'm recommending we send him home ahead of the carrier, but that won't be until tomorrow."

"Can we see him?" Phoenix asked, trying to get a look past the taller woman and into the room. All she saw was medical equipment.

"Keep it brief. Not all at once."

She moved past them, likely to give her report to the admiral. Bob - closest to the door - took an intentional step back and nodded at Phoenix. Coyote echoed the movement.

"I'll be in in a sec," Hangman offered, the unspoken understanding that she should be the first in shared among them. Well, she did know him best, even if she, Rooster, and Hangman had all met at Pensacola.

Phoenix slipped into the room and stepped around a medic that was cleaning up. She spotted Rooster on the far side of the room, a curtain only partially pulled for the privacy that none of them really expected when they were out to sea. His eyes were closed and a nasal cannula rested on his mustache, pushing a little extra oxygen into him. They'd cleaned the blood off his face and she could see a collection of cuts and the beginning of some bruises along his hairline and around his eyes. Dressing was wrapped up and around his left shoulder and down his chest. How far down, she couldn't tell with the sheets pulled up. Another bandage was wrapped around his left forearm, two fingers on the opposite hand taped together. She glanced up at the monitor next to the bed, assessing his vitals there.

"Hey," he croaked, startling her attention back to him. The smile he offered her this time was a little more real than it had been when they'd first brought him below deck, albeit even more tired now.

"I'd ask how you're feeling, but it looks like they're giving you all the good drugs," she teased.

"Oh yeah," he managed with a weak chuckle and struggled to clear his throat. "I don't know what day it is."

"It'll be a hell of a story once you're back on your feet."

He hummed a soft agreement, but something caused his lulling eyelids to pop back open, only fractionally clearer than a moment before. "Please tell me no one's told Mav."

"Not that I know of. Bob, Hangman, Coyote, and I've all been waiting on you since they brought you in. I don't know if Admiral Hale knows the connection." She quirked an eyebrow at him. "Doc said they're sending you home ahead of the carrier. Pretty sure he'll notice something's up."

"That bad, huh?"

"You kind of look like you got blown up."

Rooster snorted at that, but seemed to relax a little. "Just don't want him to worry."

"Bad time of year for this, huh?"

"Is there a good time with him?" Rooster countered, and sighed. "But yeah. Bad time of year. I just wanna make sure he sees I'm okay, you know?"

"Are you?"

"What?"

"Okay?"

To his credit, he seemed to think about that for a moment. "I will be."

There was a long moment, those soft brown eyes of his catching her own darker ones and Phoenix tried for a lighter smile. "Better be, Bradshaw."

The door opened and it was enough to break the moment. Rooster loosed a breath, shifting his gaze away and Phoenix looked over to see Hangman standing in the doorway. If he had something to say, he kept it to himself. Apparently saving his life bought a little bit of good will. Or at least neutral. "So do you and the old timer share the nine lives, or so you each get a set of your own?"

Rooster snorted a laugh and then coughed, grimacing as he settled a little further back onto the cot. "It was close."

"No shit. How're you feeling?"

"Tired."

And that was their cue. Phoenix reached over and gave his hand a gentle squeeze, careful to avoid his broken fingers. "Get some rest."

He was already fading, even as he mumbled an affirmative and Phoenix started ushering Hangman back towards the door. "Any more news in about sending him home?"

"Yeah. They're flying him out tomorrow morning. I volunteered to go with him."

Phoenix's eyes narrowed at that. "Why?"

Hangman feigned insult, but sobered up just as quickly as he glanced past her at their sleeping squad mate. "I was out of ammo and in a tight spot. Bradshaw saved my life. Least I can do."

She nodded slowly. "Just… try to be a little less of an asshole to him?"

That shit-eating grin returned. "Where's the fun in that?"

She rolled her eyes as they moved back to the corridor. She didn't want to go. If there weren't a report to file and work to be done, she might have settled herself down in the chair next to his bed for a little while. In fact, she might just bring the reports back down to do just that.

—

Everything from punching out on had been something of a blur. He had snippets of memories. Fire and what had to have been pieces of his exploding fighter slamming into him and, the next thing he knew, Rooster had been underwater. He'd pulled in a breath and found only saltwater before his training had kicked in and, despite the spiking pain, had kicked hard to help the flotation device in his flightsuit to get him to the surface.

He was in and out and on the helicopter before he'd come fully around again. Lights in his eyes, questions barked at him, and the rattling of his dog tags around his neck. At least it was his people that had found him, even if he hadn't known any of them.

They were supposed to leave out first thing that next morning, but it was nearly thirty-six hours after the crash before he and Hangman boarded a helicopter that would take them to shore where they'd be loaded onto a larger Navy plane for transport. Somewhere along the way Hangman popped off about getting them there in a fraction of the time if he'd been flying. The medic didn't find that funny. Rooster might have if everything didn't hurt so damn much.

He had a laundry list of injuries. Broken nose, concussion, and something torn in his shoulder that made a cringe-worthy popping noise every time he moved wrong, even with his arm firmly fit into the sling they'd provided. He'd cracked two ribs and had taken some shrapnel. And then there were the burns that were starting to pull, reminding him of the fireball his Hornet had been when he'd ejected. He'd nearly argued when they'd brought the wheelchair, but had had to swallow his pride at the thought of crashing immediately to the floor if he tried to walk. Well, at least the painkillers took the edge off the irritation too.

Surprisingly enough, Hangman didn't give him as much hell as he would have expected. Rooster had anticipated the same rounds of jabbing snark that they usually tossed at each other, but if this was his brand of gratitude or he just wasn't going to be as entertained if Rooster couldn't give as good as he got, only Hangman knew. His wingman didn't leave his side as they made their way to shore, at the hospital as they looked him over a little more thoroughly, or as they boarded the transport.

Rooster surfaced from one of the many rounds of light, drug-induced dozes his body kept slipping into on the flight stateside. He shifted, stiff and uncomfortable and more than a little frustrated with his lack of mobility and general awareness. He tried to focus through the fog that had saturated his brain since he'd woken up in the medical bay on the carrier. It took a moment, but he finally picked apart Hangman's voice from the low rumble of the engines. He strained, trying to decide if he was talking to a medic or one of the pilots that had come back here for a few minutes of shut eye. His voice grew louder, though, and the words more distinct as he circled around into Rooster's line of vision and he spotted a sat phone in his hand. "Yeah, just woke up. You wanna talk to him?"

There was a beat and then another before Hangman handed the phone over. Rooster took it, careful of the fingers taped together, and struggling to remember if he should know who was on the other side of the call. It'd be just his luck to croak out a hello? only to have it be Admiral Simpson berating him on destroying the second multimillion dollar jet in as many years. No, he opted for a safer option. "Bradshaw."

"Bradley," Maverick's relieved voice sounded from the other end. "You okay?"

Well, that answered the question on if Mav knew or not. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine." He pointedly ignored the skeptical look Hangman shot him. "They call you?"

"Apparently you still have me as next of kin," Mav answered.

"Never took you off." He'd thought about it. Hell, he'd started to fill out the paperwork more times than he could count, but every time the thought of something happening to him and Maverick hearing about it some handful of years later had stopped him. Not that he'd ever been willing to admit it at the time. It was just a hassle and who was he going to put on there anyway?

Mav made a small, startled sound. "You either," he acknowledged softly.

"Probably should have snagged a computer on the carrier. Just…. Didn't want to worry you." He let his head thump back softly, squeezing his eyes shut. Especially not now. Not this time of year.

There was a long stretch of static and for a moment Rooster thought he'd lost the connection. Finally, Mav sighed, and he thought maybe the Old Man was just trying to feel out where the boundaries were so he didn't catapult across them. "Just get home safe, Rooster. I'll see you on the tarmac."

A small smile tilted his lips. "See you when we get home, Mav." He ended the call and handed the phone back to Hangman. As the other aviator turned, Rooster cleared his throat. "Hey. What's the date? Got kinda lost in the fog."

"Depends where we are," Hangman answered with a shrug. "We're due in on base at 0800 on the twenty-ninth."

Well shit.

Hangman shifted uncomfortably. "Phoenix mentioned…."

"Yeah."

"Thirty-five years, huh?"

"Yeah."

"Probably good you talked to him."

Rooster nodded, feeling it through his shoulder. "Yeah," he said softly and let his eyes drift closed again. He needed sleep. Real sleep, not just catnaps between struggling to stay awake. He wasn't going to be better by the time they made it there, but he could at least make sure he was conscious when they got to base.

—

In the years following Goose's death, Carole had always made sure Maverick found his way to their house on the anniversary. Sure, some years he was deployed, but if he was stateside, he knew where he'd be: with the only people who mourned Goose as much as he did.

Then Carole had gotten sick and she'd died. Mav and Bradley - because the kid hadn't gotten his own callsign yet - and had spent that July 29th together just the two of them. The next year Bradley had been away at college, but by the next he'd found out that Mav had pulled his papers from the Naval Academy and had cut him entirely out of his life. Year after year, Maverick had secluded himself on that day. He mourned alone. He suffered alone. Until last year. The Dagger Squadron had received a permanent base on North Island to be sent out on missions as the Navy saw fit, and Maverick and Rooster had spent the day together. They'd gone to the graves and then they'd gone flying. That night the two of them had had one or three too many at the Hard Deck, but it'd been more smiles than tears as they'd goofed off and sung Goose's favourite song, his son on the piano and holding a hell of a better tune than Maverick.

Mav had hoped they'd wrap the mission and be home by the twenty-ninth this year. He just hadn't expected it to be this way.

The call had come in the middle of the night. Those were never good. During the mission, Lt Bradley Bradshaw had been forced to eject. There'd been an issue and search and rescue was underway. Captain Mitchell would be updated as soon as they knew more. Penny had had to pry the phone from his numb fingers, even as the dial tone could be heard from the other end. He couldn't breathe. He hadn't been able to think about anything other than the fact that just a few days shy of the thirty-fifth anniversary of Goose's death, Rooster was…. He hadn't known. Bad ejection, over water, search and rescue…. He hadn't slept the rest of the night.

Then the next call came with the sun. They'd found him. He was alive. He was with the medics to assess his injuries and Captain Mitchell would be updated as soon as they knew more. He'd tried to sleep that night, but found himself in the Pacific Ocean holding onto a lifeless body, but even as Goose's name slipped from his lips, he turned him over to see Rooster's face. So much for sleep.

The next update of any detail came from Hangman once Maverick had exhausted every favour owed and finally got connected to the sat phone on the transport bringing them home. He got the full story and felt the panic that had gripped his nightmares flare back up with a vengeance. It wasn't until Hangman offered to put Rooster on the phone that Maverick had slowed back down, keeping his voice as measured as he could. He'd sounded tired, but he was alive. He was alive and he was coming home.

So at 0800 on July 29, 2021 - thirty five years after one of the worst days of his life - Pete "Maverick" Mitchell stood on the tarmac, watching the transport that Goose's son was on taxi in. The transport came to rest, the engines were shut off, and the ramp was lowered out the back. Inside, as if both ready and willing to make their exit as quickly as possible, were Hangman and Rooster. Rooster sat in a wheelchair, glaring up at his wingman's cocky grin, and he rolled his eyes at whatever the other man had said. He was beaten and bruised - likely more than Mav could even see - but he was alive. And he was home.

He met the boys at the base of the ramp and Rooster started to try to push himself to his feet. Maverick waved him back down. "Take it easy."

"I'm fine," Rooster huffed as he sunk back down into the chair and Mav snorted. The younger man bobbed his head back and forth a little, a noncommittal sound escaping him as he considered his next words, before he looked up to meet Maverick's eyes. "I'm gonna be fine."

"I know," Mav breathed. It was going to be alright. He was going to be alright.

—

He'd argued. And argued and argued and he'd lost the argument. Mostly because he couldn't drive himself at the moment and Mav made the decision for him. It definitely wasn't because he had a three flight walk up to his apartment that he never would have made in his current state. Nope. Not that at all. And it could have been worse. Medical could have sent him straight to the hospital once they were done checking him over, but instead they ordered him home and to bed rest. Mav had just taken it on himself to choose his home rather than Rooster's.

Penny had the guest room set up by the time they arrived. It was small, usually used for storage, but the bed was a whole lot more comfortable than the med bay back on the carrier, the hospital bed during their brief layover, and definitely better than the cot on the transport plane. By the time Rooster took a seat on the edge, the last round of pain meds had already kicked in and Mav eased him back into the pillows, careful to avoid his injured shoulder.

He must have slept most of the day, waking up here and there, mostly when Mav roused him to eat a little something or get some water down his throat. When he finally woke up on his own, the sun looked like it was on its way down and he risked a glance over at the digital clock. 18:15. It was quiet - Penny likely out at the bar - but a soft snore drew his attention around to where Mav was slumped down in a chair, feet propped up on a side table, and an afghan tucked around him. Rooster studied his sleeping face for a long moment. It was funny, a couple years before he'd tossed the fact that Mav didn't have a wife or kids to mourn him if he burned in, and while he had been pointing to the fact his father had had both, he could have just as easily been talking about himself in those days. Maybe he should have called. Let him know he didn't have one more Bradshaw to mourn. He was still getting used to this too.

Mav jerked a little in his sleep and Rooster shifted, trying to get a better line of sight. He wasn't awake, but looked like he was dreaming. Or having a nightmare. Then his dad's callsign left Mav's lips in a strangled whisper. Yep. Definitely a nightmare. "Hey, Mav," he called out softly.

The older aviator jolted upright. "Rooster!" he shouted, eyes wide and he seemed to be lost in the nightmare for a couple of seconds into consciousness. Finally he blinked, shook his head a little, and Rooster suddenly found those sharp blue eyes on him. "Rooster," his name left his godfather again, this time with more relief than panic.

"Hey." He shifted, grimaced, and then carefully rolled into a seated position, long legs dropping over the edge of the bed so that his bare feet rested against the floor. "You're gonna get a crick in your neck if you keep sleeping like that."

There was another beat of silence before Maverick scurried up to his feet, blanket falling away and he looked like he was going to push Rooster back down to the admittedly very comfy pillows. He held up a bandaged hand before Mav could get ahold of him and shook his head. "I'm gonna get stoved up too. How 'bout a change of rooms and a movie?"

"Sure," Mav managed and straightened where he stood. Now that he knew they were just switching locations, he offered Rooster a hand up and a shoulder to lean on as they made their way very carefully out into the living room.

It was quiet, with the evening light casting long shadows. Rooster let Mav help ease him down onto the couch, arm resting on the sofa's armrest in lieu of the sling for his shoulder. He watched Maverick fumble about with the controls, trying to find the right one to pull up one of the streaming services. Rooster snorted and motioned for him to pass it over, getting them where they needed to go in a few clicks. "You're getting old, Mav. The tech is outpacing you."

His godfather took a heavy seat next to him and damned he looked tired. Guilt weighed on the younger man and he reached, tapping the back of his hand against Maverick's arm. "I'm sorry."

A chuckle escaped him. "For what? You're not wrong."

"You know that's not what I mean. For not calling as soon as I was conscious."

"Hard to do from the middle of the ocean."

"For scaring you. For scaring you this time of year. I know…" He closed his eyes, feeling the emotions he hadn't expected to come bubbling up.

"Bradley. Bradley, stop. This is not your fault. You saved your wingman's life. You did your job. I'm not gonna blame you for that."

"I know, but I'm just saying… I know you miss him. Still. Always. I just want you to know I'm not going anywhere. Thirty-five years from now, we're both still gonna be here, you hear me?"

"You know I'm turning sixty next year?"

Rooster snorted, shoving him lightly. "No excuses, Old Man. Right here. You and me."

"You've got yourself a deal, Rooster," Maverick answered softly and finally seemed to relax a little. "What are we watching?"

"Airplane."

"What?"

Rooster grinned. "C'mon. Dad loved that one."

"And I hated it. How do you even remember that?" Mav sighed dramatically before shaking his head, a smile stretching into place. "Fine. For Goose."

Rooster's own grin broadened and they settled in, both men laughing and grimacing and finally falling asleep leaned up against each other. And in that place right before he dozed off, Rooster could have sworn he saw his dad smiling down at them both.

---

End.

Notes: I was rewatching Top Gun Maverick the other day for some inspiration for another story and sort of.... fell down the rabbit hole. I really love all of the relationships in this movie, especially Mav and Rooster. Hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it!

While their deployments had collectively gotten shorter once the United States Navy had decided to keep the Dagger Squadron together, the stakes for each mission that they went on had become significantly higher. Why else would they send the best of their best in if any man would do?

And it was a good thing they did, too, because not just anyone could maneuver their way through the situation that they found themselves in. It was supposed to be a covert mission. Four F-18s. Four Daggers. Rooster led in as Dagger One, Phoenix and Bob following up as Dagger Two, Hangman was Three, and Coyote Four. The plan was to get in and out before anyone ever saw them coming. Or leaving, so they'd hoped. Not that things ever went quite as planned.

Shouts sounded off over the radio system coordinating between the four aircrafts to avoid missiles and bullets and enemy aircraft that just about clipped Phoenix's nose clear off her Hornet. Voices overlapped, yet all five pilots knew exactly how to communicate with one another. This wasn't their first rodeo. Hell, they'd all thought they were good before they'd bombed the facility in Iran. If you asked any one of them, they'd only gotten better since. They'd certainly learned to become a better team.

"Smoke in the air!" Coyote yelled out. "Dagger Three, break right!"

Rooster risked the quickest glance he could manage over to where a missile was aimed directly at Hangman. It never made it to him, though. He broke right, just as Coyote had shouted, but then he pulled back and throttled upward, nose pointed at the sun high in the sky to disorient the fighter gaining on his tail. He loosed a round of flares that struck the missile and it exploded in the air where he'd been moments before.

The shouts continued and Rooster broke hard to the left, shaking what might have turned into a tail as the other craft sped right by him. They might be the best the Navy had to offer in a dogfight, but they were across enemy lines and that same enemy would wisen up and launch more fighters if they didn't end this now. He was team leader. It was his call. They needed to finish this and get home. "I got a path!" he shouted. "Goin' in!"

"I've got your wing," Hangman answered and Rooster bit back a snarky retort. Time and place, Bradshaw. Time and place.

The two fighters swung around to where the weapons depot was tucked away at the edge of the cliffs, snug and hard to get to from the low altitude that they'd been forced into. Missles launched, cutting off the intended path and driving both Hornets out a little further to the left and the right than originally intended. Rooster ground out a low curse. "I've lost my angle."

"I've got it," Hangman answered and shifted into position. And just like that, Rooster was the wingman. Funny, it wasn't long ago that neither of them would have found themselves quite so flexible when it came to the kill shot.

Hangman was barreling ahead even as Rooster's alert systems started to scream. He took a quick look around through the canopy, searching for the source. There. A hanger built into the side of the mountain and a next gen fighter on its way towards them. This could be a problem. "Dagger Three, tally one, ten o'clock high!"

He received a grunt of acknowledgement as Hangman stayed on target. Rooster swallowed his argument. They had a mission to complete, and if Hangman had the shot, he'd make sure he didn't get his ass blown to hell while taking it.

The fighter sped out and Rooster broke far enough off to engage, but never quite leaving Hangman's wing. The other pilot was fast, but inexperienced. Whatever training the locals had been promised to accompany their shiny new toys clearly hadn't been completed. This guy was all power, but little skill. Rooster feigned left, broke right, and got a lock. Missiles away he veered even further back, just in time to see Hangman's own missile drop hit home, the weapons depot that had gone against every treaty signed in the last fifty years exploding into the air.

And kept exploding.

The fire built on itself, whatever was stored down there a ton more powerful than their intel had indicated to them. The celebratory cheers were quickly cut off as the flames leapt up towards both Rooster and Hangman's Hornets, the two aviators cutting off towards the ocean to escape the bursts of fire and shrapnel. Rooster jolted forward, his fighter's warning systems screaming at him and he stared at it for half a second longer than he should have. Shit. nothing like literally having your tail on fire.

But things could always get worse.

A second fighter swooped out of the plumes of smoke and into his line of sight. Bullets scattered across Hangman's Hornet and the other man loosed a curse out over the radio, dodging and releasing a burst of flares that only bought him a few seconds. "I'm out!" he shouted.

Every warning system was screaming at Rooster. He was losing his fighter, the damage spreading and no matter what he did he couldn't extinguish the flames. It was a goner, but the problem was that no one else was close enough to get the enemy fighter off of Hangman. He might make it. He was a talented pilot, but he was outgunned, if not out manned. It was a risk a team leader shouldn't take. It was a risk Rooster wasn't willing to take.

It all happened in what felt like a fraction of a second. He punched it, using speed that only fueled the flames on his own fighter to shift into alignment, loosing his last missile at the enemy fighter and seeing it strike before it could take Hangman out of the air. Alarms blared and he grabbed the ejection handle between his legs and pulled hard. The canopy shattered, he was jettisoned upward, and his fighter exploded beneath him.

Everything went black.

---

As with all dogfights, it had all happened so fast. He couldn't even say that he had gotten an air-to-air kill in, no matter how hard he'd tried to flip the script on the next gen fighter that had been on his tail. He was fast. Too fast. And Hangman had been running low on every type of ammo.

But his wingman had come through. And then Rooster's fighter had just… exploded. Phoenix screamed his name over the open radio and Hangman immediately swung his fighter around. "I've got chute!" he shouted, catching sight of it between the falling debris and flames. He just couldn't see what shape the other aviator was in, even as he descended through the heavy smoke and towards the ocean below.

The base was destroyed, what was left of the personnel and pilots that had been held up there had bugged out, and the only relief found in the orders to return to the carrier was that they were sending search and rescue for Rooster. Not that the daggers could do anything for him in their F-18s. All they could do was return and wait.

Debrief came and went, the four remaining pilots stiff and silent when they weren't giving their report to the admiral that had overseen the mission. None of them had known him prior to shipping out and he didn't appear to be the sharing type. Hangman recounted the details as he'd seen them, and somehow his missing squad mate made the truth a little easier to ground out than it might have been if they were all celebrating on the deck together: Rooster had saved his life.

The helicopter was landing as they made their way back to the deck after being dismissed. Jake risked a glance to his right to see Phoenix looking like she was coiled and ready to spring forward. Anyone less disciplined might have as they waited for the doors to slide open to see if Rooster strutted out on his own with all the luck he clearly had picked up from his godfather or….

"He's gonna be okay," Bob shouted over the sound of the rotors powering down.

The door slid open and a Navy medic was the first out, taking the end of an occupied stretcher. Already hooked up to some sort of IV bag was the prone form of their squad mate and Hangman squinted against the sun that was starting its downward dip for the day. Blood caked Rooster's face that hadn't been washed off by the waves. His flightsuit was a mess, simultaneously soaked through and burned in places. The medics had peeled it away from his shoulders and removed his undershirt, likely to get a better look at his injuries. It looked like there was a temporary bandage lining his ribcage, blood seeping through. Hangman couldn't hear it with the sounds of the carrier all around them, but he saw the injured aviator grimace as the second medic eased out, jolting the stretcher. Behind the two medics came another man with a familiar red helmet in his hand.

"Shit," Phoenix managed.

"He's alive. And conscious," Coyote pointed out.

"Not sure the last one is a plus right this second," Hangman muttered and tilted his head towards the far end of the deck that would lead them around the long way to the medical bay. If they moved fast enough, they might be able to catch someone with some answers without getting in their way.

—

Bob's surprised shout at seeing Rooster's fighter's tail on fire had been what had drawn Phoenix's attention away from her pursuit of the fleeing enemy craft, but the explosion had kept it. The sparks from the raging fire trying to drag the Hornet out of the sky had mixed with the controlled explosion that kept Rooster from ejecting directly into his canopy, but even though he'd clearly punched out, he didn't get enough space between him and the fighter before the explosion had thrown him. She'd watched it happen. She'd seen the pressure slam into him, ripping his chute outward towards the ocean - a saving grace. The cliff side probably would have killed him - and had known that shrapnel and burning debris was following, even as he'd dipped down beneath the plumes of smoke that had made it impossible to see exactly where he hit the water below.

But it hadn't killed him. That much they knew on deck and saw a bit closer up, even if the medics had shoved all four of them out into the corridor. She'd locked eyes with him - bruises already starting to form around them, showing signs of a broken nose - and he'd offered her a struggling smile that barely tilted his lips and a weak thumbs up to prove he was with them. As they were ushered out, Phoenix had sunk down against the wall.

While the medics weren't keen on updates, at least no one forced them to leave their doorway vigil. Bob went and got coffee and water for them all, and at one point Coyote had to step away for a brief moment, but mostly they just waited in silence. The five spares that had been waiting on deck in case they needed to join the first wave of Dagger Squadron dropped by to check in, but the narrow corridor had become too crowded far too fast and the four that had been out there with him had been given preferential standing space as long as they swore to let the others know when they got an update.

So they waited, the three men leaning against the wall with Phoenix on the floor, a half finished and very cold cup of coffee held loosely in her hands. "Did you know it'll be thirty-five years in a few days?"

She could practically feel three sets of eyes turn on her at the first words spoken between them in at least an hour. "Since what?" Coyote asked, shifting against the wall.

Phoenix looked up, dark eyes flickering between her squad mates. She knew him the best out of all of them. Moments like this reminded her of that. "Since his dad died."

Hangman actually winced at that. "Bad ejection, wasn't it?"

"Yeah."

"But he's okay," Bob said quickly and Phoenix shrugged.

"He's alive," she corrected.

The words had barely left her mouth when the door they'd practically been guarding for hours now opened, revealing a very tired looking doctor. To her credit, she didn't look startled even though all four aviators were immediately on her, firing off questions that overlapped. She held up her hand. "He's stable. And awake, but he needs to rest. I'm recommending we send him home ahead of the carrier, but that won't be until tomorrow."

"Can we see him?" Phoenix asked, trying to get a look past the taller woman and into the room. All she saw was medical equipment.

"Keep it brief. Not all at once."

She moved past them, likely to give her report to the admiral. Bob - closest to the door - took an intentional step back and nodded at Phoenix. Coyote echoed the movement.

"I'll be in in a sec," Hangman offered, the unspoken understanding that she should be the first in shared among them. Well, she did know him best, even if she, Rooster, and Hangman had all met at Pensacola.

Phoenix slipped into the room and stepped around a medic that was cleaning up. She spotted Rooster on the far side of the room, a curtain only partially pulled for the privacy that none of them really expected when they were out to sea. His eyes were closed and a nasal cannula rested on his mustache, pushing a little extra oxygen into him. They'd cleaned the blood off his face and she could see a collection of cuts and the beginning of some bruises along his hairline and around his eyes. Dressing was wrapped up and around his left shoulder and down his chest. How far down, she couldn't tell with the sheets pulled up. Another bandage was wrapped around his left forearm, two fingers on the opposite hand taped together. She glanced up at the monitor next to the bed, assessing his vitals there.

"Hey," he croaked, startling her attention back to him. The smile he offered her this time was a little more real than it had been when they'd first brought him below deck, albeit even more tired now.

"I'd ask how you're feeling, but it looks like they're giving you all the good drugs," she teased.

"Oh yeah," he managed with a weak chuckle and struggled to clear his throat. "I don't know what day it is."

"It'll be a hell of a story once you're back on your feet."

He hummed a soft agreement, but something caused his lulling eyelids to pop back open, only fractionally clearer than a moment before. "Please tell me no one's told Mav."

"Not that I know of. Bob, Hangman, Coyote, and I've all been waiting on you since they brought you in. I don't know if Admiral Hale knows the connection." She quirked an eyebrow at him. "Doc said they're sending you home ahead of the carrier. Pretty sure he'll notice something's up."

"That bad, huh?"

"You kind of look like you got blown up."

Rooster snorted at that, but seemed to relax a little. "Just don't want him to worry."

"Bad time of year for this, huh?"

"Is there a good time with him?" Rooster countered, and sighed. "But yeah. Bad time of year. I just wanna make sure he sees I'm okay, you know?"

"Are you?"

"What?"

"Okay?"

To his credit, he seemed to think about that for a moment. "I will be."

There was a long moment, those soft brown eyes of his catching her own darker ones and Phoenix tried for a lighter smile. "Better be, Bradshaw."

The door opened and it was enough to break the moment. Rooster loosed a breath, shifting his gaze away and Phoenix looked over to see Hangman standing in the doorway. If he had something to say, he kept it to himself. Apparently saving his life bought a little bit of good will. Or at least neutral. "So do you and the old timer share the nine lives, or so you each get a set of your own?"

Rooster snorted a laugh and then coughed, grimacing as he settled a little further back onto the cot. "It was close."

"No shit. How're you feeling?"

"Tired."

And that was their cue. Phoenix reached over and gave his hand a gentle squeeze, careful to avoid his broken fingers. "Get some rest."

He was already fading, even as he mumbled an affirmative and Phoenix started ushering Hangman back towards the door. "Any more news in about sending him home?"

"Yeah. They're flying him out tomorrow morning. I volunteered to go with him."

Phoenix's eyes narrowed at that. "Why?"

Hangman feigned insult, but sobered up just as quickly as he glanced past her at their sleeping squad mate. "I was out of ammo and in a tight spot. Bradshaw saved my life. Least I can do."

She nodded slowly. "Just… try to be a little less of an asshole to him?"

That shit-eating grin returned. "Where's the fun in that?"

She rolled her eyes as they moved back to the corridor. She didn't want to go. If there weren't a report to file and work to be done, she might have settled herself down in the chair next to his bed for a little while. In fact, she might just bring the reports back down to do just that.

—

Everything from punching out on had been something of a blur. He had snippets of memories. Fire and what had to have been pieces of his exploding fighter slamming into him and, the next thing he knew, Rooster had been underwater. He'd pulled in a breath and found only saltwater before his training had kicked in and, despite the spiking pain, had kicked hard to help the flotation device in his flightsuit to get him to the surface.

He was in and out and on the helicopter before he'd come fully around again. Lights in his eyes, questions barked at him, and the rattling of his dog tags around his neck. At least it was his people that had found him, even if he hadn't known any of them.

They were supposed to leave out first thing that next morning, but it was nearly thirty-six hours after the crash before he and Hangman boarded a helicopter that would take them to shore where they'd be loaded onto a larger Navy plane for transport. Somewhere along the way Hangman popped off about getting them there in a fraction of the time if he'd been flying. The medic didn't find that funny. Rooster might have if everything didn't hurt so damn much.

He had a laundry list of injuries. Broken nose, concussion, and something torn in his shoulder that made a cringe-worthy popping noise every time he moved wrong, even with his arm firmly fit into the sling they'd provided. He'd cracked two ribs and had taken some shrapnel. And then there were the burns that were starting to pull, reminding him of the fireball his Hornet had been when he'd ejected. He'd nearly argued when they'd brought the wheelchair, but had had to swallow his pride at the thought of crashing immediately to the floor if he tried to walk. Well, at least the painkillers took the edge off the irritation too.

Surprisingly enough, Hangman didn't give him as much hell as he would have expected. Rooster had anticipated the same rounds of jabbing snark that they usually tossed at each other, but if this was his brand of gratitude or he just wasn't going to be as entertained if Rooster couldn't give as good as he got, only Hangman knew. His wingman didn't leave his side as they made their way to shore, at the hospital as they looked him over a little more thoroughly, or as they boarded the transport.

Rooster surfaced from one of the many rounds of light, drug-induced dozes his body kept slipping into on the flight stateside. He shifted, stiff and uncomfortable and more than a little frustrated with his lack of mobility and general awareness. He tried to focus through the fog that had saturated his brain since he'd woken up in the medical bay on the carrier. It took a moment, but he finally picked apart Hangman's voice from the low rumble of the engines. He strained, trying to decide if he was talking to a medic or one of the pilots that had come back here for a few minutes of shut eye. His voice grew louder, though, and the words more distinct as he circled around into Rooster's line of vision and he spotted a sat phone in his hand. "Yeah, just woke up. You wanna talk to him?"

There was a beat and then another before Hangman handed the phone over. Rooster took it, careful of the fingers taped together, and struggling to remember if he should know who was on the other side of the call. It'd be just his luck to croak out a hello? only to have it be Admiral Simpson berating him on destroying the second multimillion dollar jet in as many years. No, he opted for a safer option. "Bradshaw."

"Bradley," Maverick's relieved voice sounded from the other end. "You okay?"

Well, that answered the question on if Mav knew or not. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine." He pointedly ignored the skeptical look Hangman shot him. "They call you?"

"Apparently you still have me as next of kin," Mav answered.

"Never took you off." He'd thought about it. Hell, he'd started to fill out the paperwork more times than he could count, but every time the thought of something happening to him and Maverick hearing about it some handful of years later had stopped him. Not that he'd ever been willing to admit it at the time. It was just a hassle and who was he going to put on there anyway?

Mav made a small, startled sound. "You either," he acknowledged softly.

"Probably should have snagged a computer on the carrier. Just…. Didn't want to worry you." He let his head thump back softly, squeezing his eyes shut. Especially not now. Not this time of year.

There was a long stretch of static and for a moment Rooster thought he'd lost the connection. Finally, Mav sighed, and he thought maybe the Old Man was just trying to feel out where the boundaries were so he didn't catapult across them. "Just get home safe, Rooster. I'll see you on the tarmac."

A small smile tilted his lips. "See you when we get home, Mav." He ended the call and handed the phone back to Hangman. As the other aviator turned, Rooster cleared his throat. "Hey. What's the date? Got kinda lost in the fog."

"Depends where we are," Hangman answered with a shrug. "We're due in on base at 0800 on the twenty-ninth."

Well shit.

Hangman shifted uncomfortably. "Phoenix mentioned…."

"Yeah."

"Thirty-five years, huh?"

"Yeah."

"Probably good you talked to him."

Rooster nodded, feeling it through his shoulder. "Yeah," he said softly and let his eyes drift closed again. He needed sleep. Real sleep, not just catnaps between struggling to stay awake. He wasn't going to be better by the time they made it there, but he could at least make sure he was conscious when they got to base.

—

In the years following Goose's death, Carole had always made sure Maverick found his way to their house on the anniversary. Sure, some years he was deployed, but if he was stateside, he knew where he'd be: with the only people who mourned Goose as much as he did.

Then Carole had gotten sick and she'd died. Mav and Bradley - because the kid hadn't gotten his own callsign yet - and had spent that July 29th together just the two of them. The next year Bradley had been away at college, but by the next he'd found out that Mav had pulled his papers from the Naval Academy and had cut him entirely out of his life. Year after year, Maverick had secluded himself on that day. He mourned alone. He suffered alone. Until last year. The Dagger Squadron had received a permanent base on North Island to be sent out on missions as the Navy saw fit, and Maverick and Rooster had spent the day together. They'd gone to the graves and then they'd gone flying. That night the two of them had had one or three too many at the Hard Deck, but it'd been more smiles than tears as they'd goofed off and sung Goose's favourite song, his son on the piano and holding a hell of a better tune than Maverick.

Mav had hoped they'd wrap the mission and be home by the twenty-ninth this year. He just hadn't expected it to be this way.

The call had come in the middle of the night. Those were never good. During the mission, Lt Bradley Bradshaw had been forced to eject. There'd been an issue and search and rescue was underway. Captain Mitchell would be updated as soon as they knew more. Penny had had to pry the phone from his numb fingers, even as the dial tone could be heard from the other end. He couldn't breathe. He hadn't been able to think about anything other than the fact that just a few days shy of the thirty-fifth anniversary of Goose's death, Rooster was…. He hadn't known. Bad ejection, over water, search and rescue…. He hadn't slept the rest of the night.

Then the next call came with the sun. They'd found him. He was alive. He was with the medics to assess his injuries and Captain Mitchell would be updated as soon as they knew more. He'd tried to sleep that night, but found himself in the Pacific Ocean holding onto a lifeless body, but even as Goose's name slipped from his lips, he turned him over to see Rooster's face. So much for sleep.

The next update of any detail came from Hangman once Maverick had exhausted every favour owed and finally got connected to the sat phone on the transport bringing them home. He got the full story and felt the panic that had gripped his nightmares flare back up with a vengeance. It wasn't until Hangman offered to put Rooster on the phone that Maverick had slowed back down, keeping his voice as measured as he could. He'd sounded tired, but he was alive. He was alive and he was coming home.

So at 0800 on July 29, 2021 - thirty five years after one of the worst days of his life - Pete "Maverick" Mitchell stood on the tarmac, watching the transport that Goose's son was on taxi in. The transport came to rest, the engines were shut off, and the ramp was lowered out the back. Inside, as if both ready and willing to make their exit as quickly as possible, were Hangman and Rooster. Rooster sat in a wheelchair, glaring up at his wingman's cocky grin, and he rolled his eyes at whatever the other man had said. He was beaten and bruised - likely more than Mav could even see - but he was alive. And he was home.

He met the boys at the base of the ramp and Rooster started to try to push himself to his feet. Maverick waved him back down. "Take it easy."

"I'm fine," Rooster huffed as he sunk back down into the chair and Mav snorted. The younger man bobbed his head back and forth a little, a noncommittal sound escaping him as he considered his next words, before he looked up to meet Maverick's eyes. "I'm gonna be fine."

"I know," Mav breathed. It was going to be alright. He was going to be alright.

—

He'd argued. And argued and argued and he'd lost the argument. Mostly because he couldn't drive himself at the moment and Mav made the decision for him. It definitely wasn't because he had a three flight walk up to his apartment that he never would have made in his current state. Nope. Not that at all. And it could have been worse. Medical could have sent him straight to the hospital once they were done checking him over, but instead they ordered him home and to bed rest. Mav had just taken it on himself to choose his home rather than Rooster's.

Penny had the guest room set up by the time they arrived. It was small, usually used for storage, but the bed was a whole lot more comfortable than the med bay back on the carrier, the hospital bed during their brief layover, and definitely better than the cot on the transport plane. By the time Rooster took a seat on the edge, the last round of pain meds had already kicked in and Mav eased him back into the pillows, careful to avoid his injured shoulder.

He must have slept most of the day, waking up here and there, mostly when Mav roused him to eat a little something or get some water down his throat. When he finally woke up on his own, the sun looked like it was on its way down and he risked a glance over at the digital clock. 18:15. It was quiet - Penny likely out at the bar - but a soft snore drew his attention around to where Mav was slumped down in a chair, feet propped up on a side table, and an afghan tucked around him. Rooster studied his sleeping face for a long moment. It was funny, a couple years before he'd tossed the fact that Mav didn't have a wife or kids to mourn him if he burned in, and while he had been pointing to the fact his father had had both, he could have just as easily been talking about himself in those days. Maybe he should have called. Let him know he didn't have one more Bradshaw to mourn. He was still getting used to this too.

Mav jerked a little in his sleep and Rooster shifted, trying to get a better line of sight. He wasn't awake, but looked like he was dreaming. Or having a nightmare. Then his dad's callsign left Mav's lips in a strangled whisper. Yep. Definitely a nightmare. "Hey, Mav," he called out softly.

The older aviator jolted upright. "Rooster!" he shouted, eyes wide and he seemed to be lost in the nightmare for a couple of seconds into consciousness. Finally he blinked, shook his head a little, and Rooster suddenly found those sharp blue eyes on him. "Rooster," his name left his godfather again, this time with more relief than panic.

"Hey." He shifted, grimaced, and then carefully rolled into a seated position, long legs dropping over the edge of the bed so that his bare feet rested against the floor. "You're gonna get a crick in your neck if you keep sleeping like that."

There was another beat of silence before Maverick scurried up to his feet, blanket falling away and he looked like he was going to push Rooster back down to the admittedly very comfy pillows. He held up a bandaged hand before Mav could get ahold of him and shook his head. "I'm gonna get stoved up too. How 'bout a change of rooms and a movie?"

"Sure," Mav managed and straightened where he stood. Now that he knew they were just switching locations, he offered Rooster a hand up and a shoulder to lean on as they made their way very carefully out into the living room.

It was quiet, with the evening light casting long shadows. Rooster let Mav help ease him down onto the couch, arm resting on the sofa's armrest in lieu of the sling for his shoulder. He watched Maverick fumble about with the controls, trying to find the right one to pull up one of the streaming services. Rooster snorted and motioned for him to pass it over, getting them where they needed to go in a few clicks. "You're getting old, Mav. The tech is outpacing you."

His godfather took a heavy seat next to him and damned he looked tired. Guilt weighed on the younger man and he reached, tapping the back of his hand against Maverick's arm. "I'm sorry."

A chuckle escaped him. "For what? You're not wrong."

"You know that's not what I mean. For not calling as soon as I was conscious."

"Hard to do from the middle of the ocean."

"For scaring you. For scaring you this time of year. I know…" He closed his eyes, feeling the emotions he hadn't expected to come bubbling up.

"Bradley. Bradley, stop. This is not your fault. You saved your wingman's life. You did your job. I'm not gonna blame you for that."

"I know, but I'm just saying… I know you miss him. Still. Always. I just want you to know I'm not going anywhere. Thirty-five years from now, we're both still gonna be here, you hear me?"

"You know I'm turning sixty next year?"

Rooster snorted, shoving him lightly. "No excuses, Old Man. Right here. You and me."

"You've got yourself a deal, Rooster," Maverick answered softly and finally seemed to relax a little. "What are we watching?"

"Airplane."

"What?"

Rooster grinned. "C'mon. Dad loved that one."

"And I hated it. How do you even remember that?" Mav sighed dramatically before shaking his head, a smile stretching into place. "Fine. For Goose."

Rooster's own grin broadened and they settled in, both men laughing and grimacing and finally falling asleep leaned up against each other. And in that place right before he dozed off, Rooster could have sworn he saw his dad smiling down at them both.

---

End.

Notes: I was rewatching Top Gun Maverick the other day for some inspiration for another story and sort of.... fell down the rabbit hole. I really love all of the relationships in this movie, especially Mav and Rooster. Hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it!

[incorrecticonoclastsquotes]

Elro: Mina! MINA! You're not gonna break the glass with a goddamn cat piano!

Mina: Well, maybe if you'd believed in me from the beginning, I could've done it.

Elro: NO, YOU FUCKING CAN'T, it's SCIENCE!

Mina: No one likes a pessimist, Elro!

[incorrect-tgt-quotes]

Messier: .....Nah, didn't work.

Amicus: What did you just try to do to me?

Messier: It's not important… Maybe I tried to murder you just a little.

Amicus: Wait, what?

Messier: It didn't work, relax.

Amicus: Fuck you!

[incorrectcampcampbellquotes]

Max: We've got a killer on the loose, and you're busy running around playing your Dungeons and Rings games?

Nerris: No, Lord of the Rings came way before Dungeons and Dragons, let me tell you that.

Max: Oh god. No, don't tell me this stuff.

[incorrectdetectiveconan2]

Yumi Hey, why don’t you go suck a dick? Shiratori:: Why don’t you suck TWO dicks? Yumi: No, you! But FIVE dicks! Shiratori: You’re sucking eight dicks from every direction just like an omni-directional dick suck fest! Megure: O-kay, we get it! Can you guys stop trying to one-up each other on the dick sucking quotas!? Why don’t we just all agree as adults that we all suck a lot of dicks? And we love it. Chiba: (nods) Satou: I like the taste. Takagi: I’ll suck them. Shiratori: Yeah, okay… I like it, obviously.

[incorrect-overwatch-quotes]

Genji: The point is, I’m going to get filthy fucking rich from turning you assholes in. So, fuck you.

Mercy: *Flips the bird*

Genji: And fuck you!

Hanzo: *Flips the bird*

Genji: And fuck you!

McCree: *Flips the bird with passion*

Genji: And fuck all of you!

D.Va: Hey, why don’t you go suck a dick?

Genji: Why don’t you suck TWO dicks?

D.Va: No you, but FIVE DICKS!

Genji: You’re sucking eight dicks from every direction, JUST LIKE AN OMNI-DIRECTIONAL DICK SUCK FEST!

Soldier 76: Okay, we get it! Can we stop trying to one up each other on the dick sucking quotas? Why don’t we all just agree as adults that we all suck a lot of dick… and we love it!

*Murmurs of agreement*

Mercy: I like the taste…

Lucio: I’ll suck them…

Genji: Yeah, okay… I like it… obviously.

submitted by mekastardva

[whataperfectwasteoftime]

Born to Run / Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Pairing: Marcus Pike x Marathon Runner f!reader (no y/n)

Rating: E for eventual smut

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: TW: Attempted assault (EVERYONE’S OKAY), creepy person being creepy, one punch, some light injuries sustained by reader, the beginnings of pining!Marcus.

Summary: A long training run on your favorite bike trail is interrupted. Marcus discovers the source of the scream and develops a lil crush.

A/N: And we're off! Thank you so much to everyone who said they wanted to be tagged in this! I've never written this much at one time in my LIFE. I'm sure updates will slow down as I am forced to stop writing and get caught up on my actual job that I'm supposed to be doing right now. Let me know what you think. I have no idea if the pacing is too fast, too slow, or just right, if the characters are believable, or basically anything, really. Turns out it's hard to make a silly fantasy in your head make sense as a fleshed out story! Who knew? Not me!

Prologue | Chapter 2

Marathon Training, Week 10

Long run: 13 miles

You

Harder. Faster.

Almost… there…

You tried to control your shaky breathing as you neared the end. You'd been at it for nearly two hours now and you were starting to really feel it. Your legs burned with effort. You were so close...

In-2-3-4, out-2-3-4.

Just one mile to go.

Signing up for a marathon (and signing your entire summer away for training) always seemed like a good idea in the beginning. During the first long runs of the beastly 18 week training plan, you were still fresh with motivation, with excitement, keeping your mile splits fast and your strides light and long. Now, at week ten, almost exactly halfway through the training program, the runs became harder, and longer, while your energy and motivation took a dive. The repetitive nature of the sport easily lent itself to tedium, causing many runners to ‘hit a wall’ as the weekly mileage increased to peak at twenty miles--only 4 weeks away for you. You willed yourself to keep putting one foot in front of the other. One more mile. Should be easy after seventeen of them, right? No problem. In about nine minutes, you can be drinking water and sitting down. Nine minutes. You can stick it out for that long.

You always joked to people who were shocked at your hobby of choice that your running skills were fueled by stubbornness and spite. You never felt like much of a natural athlete, so you considered your abilities to be hard won through years of resilience rather than through any innate talent.

Maybe you were politely asked at fourteen not to try out for the volleyball team for the second time, but you'd be damned if you couldn't wake up in your thirties and run more than a half marathon on a Saturday just for the hell of it.

You started today's run just before the sun's first light was starting to make its way across the sky and the last few drops of rain fell from the clouds above. An early spring thunderstorm had passed through just prior to starting your run, and as the sun began to rise, it bathed the departing clouds in pink and orange hues, giving the well-worn running trail an otherworldly glow as your GPS kept a running tally of the rising mile count in your ear. The threat of more rain must have discouraged other early morning runners, because for once, the popular trail was yours, and yours alone.

With the tempo-driven music thumping in your ears to the beat of your steps, you missed the pleasant sounds of a forest coming to life after a storm. The birds had begun their song, and far in the distance, a rooster crowed to signal the sunrise. With every gentle caress of wind, droplets fell onto the trail with a plop-plop-plop. The little frogs around a nearby pond beside the rather ornate cabin you sometimes admired (when it was visible, which was only when the leaves were absent in winter) were chirping again, but you didn’t hear it over the fast-paced music you’d curated with the sole purpose of driving your steps forward.

Now, the sun had officially risen, decorating the well-shaded trail in speckles of sunlight. Small rays filtered through the still-new leaves of May and flickered in your eyes occasionally, blinding you in small doses as you ran.

It was during one of these moments of split-second blindness that you made out the vague shape of another person ahead on the trail.

Marcus

Without giving much thought to the consequences, Marcus jumped out of the porch chair upon hearing the scream. His empty coffee cup toppled off his leg and rolled in a wide semicircle along the ground as he jogged down the stairs, coming to a stop only when the handle met the wood. He hurried as fast as he could in the flimsy slippers he was wearing towards the dirt path leading into the woods. Leading to the advertised bike trail? Marcus wasn’t sure, but it made sense. Was it someone on the trail who had screamed? He raced along the path, trying and failing to avoid the wettest areas, and caking his slippers in mud in the process. After a few too-tense moments of running on the slippery ground, Marcus finally burst through the trees onto a flat, paved trail and discovered the source of the scream.

You

As your vision focused on the person in front of you, the first thing you noticed was that they were not moving, and you registered that as being odd. They weren’t walking, running, or biking, as one would expect, but standing stock-still, on the same side of the trail as your approaching form. That was the first red flag. The next thing you noticed is that it was a man, staring directly at you. The unbroken stare from this unmoving obstacle caused a heavy stone of dread to sink down into your stomach and stay there. Remain calm. Remain calm. You purposefully pursed your mouth into your best ‘don’t fuck with me’ expression and avoided eye contact. He was still there, still there, still not moving, still staring as you purposefully passed onto the other side of the trail to give this creepy man a wide berth. Don’t acknowledge, don’t react. He was still not moving, still star--

His hand suddenly shot out and grabbed your arm as you passed. “Why are you in such a hurry, sweetheart?” he drawled, and you made the mistake of looking into his eyes, despite all your efforts to avoid it. His eyes were strangely vacant, his pupils dilated. There was still no one on the trail that you could see, but you hoped that another soul was just around a curve, or that someone in one of the wooded lots was awake and could hear what you were about to do. You took a big breath, and let out the loudest scream you could muster, hoping that someone would hear it.

“QUIET,” the man growled, tightening his grip.

“Get OFF me!” you shouted through clenched teeth. You had no idea how to throw a punch. Why would you? You’d never been in a fight in your life. Your knowledge of how to hit someone came only from watching movies, but if there was ever a time to reach inside yourself and pull out Captain-fucking-America, this was it. You awkwardly reached back with your free arm, and swung your fist with all your strength at the man’s face, sending him staggering back holding his now-bloody nose.

Your hand exploded with pain. They never mention that in the movies. They just punch and punch and punch until the fight is over and someone is down. But in real life, it fucking hurt. In real life, you didn’t have any super-soldier serum (or any knowledge of fighting), you were just a runner who put all of her strength behind an admittedly unpracticed swing, and it showed. Ouch, ouch, fucking-OUCH.

But, awkward and unsteady as it was, it worked. You wrenched your arm out of the man’s grip and took a few desperate steps forward, but the adrenaline coursing through your veins after nearly three hours of running made you shaky and unbalanced. You stumbled, of-FUCKING-course, and tripped over the toe of one of your shoes. Your elbows took the brunt of the fall and you felt the skin scrape over the rough asphalt of the trail as you lurched to your feet again, this time successfully putting one foot in front of the other without falling. You launched yourself away from the man and started to sprint at full speed down the trail. You barely made it a few wild steps before another man, this one wearing only pajamas and mud-caked slippers, rushed onto the trail from a small footpath.

Marcus

Marcus held out his arms in a way that he hoped was reassuring, signalling you to stop. His gaze was leveled on the man (still bleeding from his nose) who had attacked you. He barely had time to take in the scene before the man, rendered powerless now that he had an audience, frantically took off in the other direction.

“HEY!” Marcus shouted, starting to pursue the assailant as he fled. The other man hopped a small wooden fence and began crashing through the thick undergrowth. Marcus ran up to the fence and hesitated, turning to look at you, your chest still heaving with exertion, clenched teeth and fists, and equal amounts of fear and fury in your eyes. He looked down at his muddy footwear and decided to make sure you were all right, rather than give chase. It wasn’t that he doubted his ability to catch up to the man while running through brambles to God-knows where in only his pajamas. Nope, definitely not. He balled his fist and let out a frustrated “Shit!” before turning and hurrying back to you, standing alone on the trail.

He held out his arms toward you again--but purposefully not crowding you--in a universal sign of openness, and asked in a soft voice, “Are you alright? Are you hurt? Did he-”

“I’m okay. I’m- I’m okay. He grabbed my arm and I… I punched him.” Still not quite catching your breath, you glanced down at your hand, which was beginning to swell angrily, and hissed through your teeth. The sudden attention to your injuries, combined with the retreating adrenaline in your system, made your hand throb in earnest. Funny how wounds never seem to hurt until you notice them.

“Perfect. That’s perfect.” Marcus nodded reassuringly. “I heard your scream. You did exactly what you were supposed to do. You did great.”

You managed a shaky smile at his words, and looked down at your hand again. “No one ever tells you how much punching hurts,” you said with a small huff of laughter. He smiled in kind, and the still-bruised knuckles on his right hand from his stupidity earlier that week gave a little throb of sympathy.

Suddenly feeling weaker than you cared to admit from the waning adrenaline, not to mention the grueling run, the events of the attack caught up with you and you put your head in your shaking hands. “Oh, my God. Ohhhh fuck. Jesus, I can’t believe-- that fucking--”

“Hey, hey-- I know. You’re okay. You’re safe. I’ve got you.” Marcus moved in slightly closer, still being mindful of his body language and his distance from you. At the words, I’ve got you, you looked squarely into his eyes for the first time, and Marcus felt a slight frisson of electricity as your wide eyes searched his. “I’ve got you,” he repeated, a little gentler still. You gave him a tiny nod and the corner of your mouth twitched upward a fraction. “Listen,” he continued, “I’m going to call the police. I’ll give them the address of the cabin I’m staying at so they can find us on the trail. It’s just back there--” he gestured vaguely in the direction he came from, “and I can tell them to head back towards us.”

You nodded again. “Okay. Thank you, really. I don’t know what I--” you huffed out a breath instead of finishing your thought. Marcus took in your sweaty, disheveled form. You were red in the face, still breathing heavily, with bits of hair sticking up in a way that would have looked comical in other circumstances, and your hand looked to be in bad shape. Yet, you had an obvious strength in the way that you held yourself, giving the unmistakable impression of power and poise. An athlete. As he watched, a bead of sweat from your forehead gained enough momentum to make its way down the bridge of your nose, and Marcus suddenly had the intrusive urge to touch it with his finger, transferring the small drop to his own hand. He mentally chased away the thought as you brought your own hand up to scrub at your face, dispelling the bead on your nose (and a good portion of those still on your forehead) in the process.

He shook himself. Not the time or the place. “We should get some ice on that hand, and I can get you some water, too. I- I want you to feel safe--I can bring you ice and water, maybe some bandages from the house. You can stay here, or you can come with, if you’re comfortable? Get cooled down, have a seat on the porch... Either way, I’m going to stay with you until the police come, okay? I want you to feel safe,” Marcus said again, gently. “Okay?”

You seemed to mentally shake yourself, dispelling some of the fear, discomfort, and leftover adrenaline still coursing through your veins. Your shoulders straightened imperceptibly, and your chin canted upward slightly, giving off a renewed aura of tenacity and toughness that Marcus found troublingly endearing.

“I, uh-- Heh. You uh, you had me at ‘water,’” you said with a small huff of laughter and a lopsided, wry smile. “Lead the way?”

Marcus couldn’t stop the smile that graced his face at your words and at the way you were clearly trying to dispel the events of the morning with humor. He stuck out his hand. “Marcus, by the way.” You swallowed and reached for his hand with your uninjured one, and shook it. Marcus tried and failed not to notice the softness of your palm on his, the firmness of your grip, and the fact that your hand, like the rest of you, was absolutely covered in sweat. Hands still connected, you gave him your name in turn. Marcus repeated it softly, then added, “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Thank you… Marcus.” You said his name while looking directly into his eyes again. Was it just him, or did the direct eye contact last just a fraction of a beat too long this time? When you finally dropped your eyes, was there a little bit of shyness lurking there beneath your lashes? Was he imagining things?

He was in trouble.

-

Tagging:

@deepstarsco , @thirddeadlysin , and @honestly-shite

[deus-and-the-machina]

OSMP headcanons. Many thoughts. Head empty.

So the nocturnal gang, yeah? We have Wilbur, a mob type that only comes out and night and burns in the day, Scott Smajor, because he needs to see the stars, Fundy, because foxes are mostly nocturnal, and Ranboo, because while there’s no evidence Enderman are nocturnal they seem like they could be.

The nocturnal gang has the vibes of working the night shift, except less tiring. Sometimes they actively get together and chat, but mostly they’re off doing and their own projects and just happen to fall into conversation. Like Ranboo working on a lengthy build getting into a nice conversation about astronomy with Scott, or Wilbur wishing Fundy luck on stealing from whoever his next victim is that night and leaving a gift of flowers or seeds for him when he gets back.

Other potential editions to the nocturnal club include:

- Phil but he’s based on an owl. Owl’s have this fringe on the ends of their feathers that lets them fly silently, making him show up to trouble making even more of an “oh shit” moment than it already was. Certain owl’s hearing is even good enough to hear animal’s heartbeats. He and Fundy have a bit of a war going on where Fundy tries to steal from him and he’s not having it, made ten times harder given Phil’s nocturnal senses. It gets wild.

- Niki based on either a jellyfish or anglerfish. These fish aren’t “nocturnal”, per say, but they are bioluminescent, aka glow in the dark. She’s always encouraging the other day people to try and stay up with them sometimes, promising she’ll be a source of light for them. She got Sneeg to stay up once, but after being chased around by Wilbur all night he said he would pass. She alternates between being awake during the night and the day so she can split her time between all her friends. 

Other random headcanons include:

- Wilbur sleeps like a bat, wrapping his tail around a ceiling beam and covering himself completely with his wings.

- Niki has this nice mossy cavern where she sleeps. When fish sleep they just kinda float at the bottom of the water. Like fish, her eyes are open when she sleeps.

- Tommy, chicken boy extraordinaire has these long swooping rooster-esc tailfeathers. 

- Also it’s kinda weird that the avian origin is vegetarian. No bird is completely vegetarian. The stereotypical diet for an average bird is worms and bugs and stuff. Most birds if they aren’t birds of prey are omnivores. I guess they did it for game balance but it still bugs me. Therefore I propose Tommy is a vegetarian by choice. We all saw the fishing vlog, every iteration of Tommy is too soft to hurt an animal (well except for Pussboy. But shhhh). 

- Another fun fact, foxes have scent glands similar to skunks but instead of releasing them they are mostly used for identifying themselves and marking their territory. Therefore osmp Fundy canonically, if we abide by the rules of biology here, smells stinky. It’s his ultimate revenge against Phil. Even if he gets his items back, they’ll forever reek.

- Tubbo’s arms and legs are fuzzy like a bee’s would be. He has accidentally gotten stuck to Ranboo many times, to the point where Ranboo thinks he’s doing it on purpose to mess with him (he is).

- Fundy builds a network of tunnels that he, Sneeg, and Slimecicle use to safely travel through the SMP. Little people have to stick together, after all.

[yacoka]

MARRY ME

──⊱ [repost] three times kuroo said marry me, and the one time he (really) meant it

character(s) — kuroo tetsurou, kozume kenma, yaku morisuke, kai nobuyuki

pairing — kuroo tetsurou x reader

genre — fluff

warning(s) — none

word count — 2400+

beta(s) — none

the first time

Your phone buzzes for the millionth time, and you don’t even need to check it to know it’s Kuroo complaining about how he had left his lunch at home. Even though you knew he was just complaining for the sake of it, you planned to rush home and make him lunch anyways. For him, you would do anything.

If it meant rushing off straight after class ended and running back home under the scalding afternoon sun, so be it. After all, love makes fools out of everyone.

You ignored the yelps of surprise and annoyance as you dash past people on the streets, checking your watch occasionally. You had to be back in school in an hour to make sure Kuroo had at least half an hour to eat, and you weren’t going to waste a single second.

The second you reached home, you threw down your bag and began yanking out the necessary ingredients to make his favourite dish - grilled salted mackerel pike. You knew that that was meant to be saved for your brother’s lunch tomorrow, but he could always buy another one in the evening.

Strands of hair stuck to your sweat-slicked neck, and you resisted the urge to brush them away, your hands handling the pungent fish. You had never understood Kuroo’s love for fish, but if he liked it, you would cook it.

Once the vegetables and fish were done, you carefully plated it into the bento box, laying them as nicely as you could over the rice. You didn’t have any time to make it look presentable, and you figured Kuroo would be too busy scarfing it down to admire the aesthetics of it anyways.

A quick glance at the clock told you there was only ten minutes left for you to get back to school, and you let out a sharp curse. There wasn’t enough time for you to do the dishes. Casting a guilty glance at the mountain of dirty utensils and pots in the sink, you sent a silent apology to your parents, swearing to do them when you got home later.

You dashed out of the house, bento box clutched tightly in one hand and your phone in the other. As much as your chest tightened in protest of the lack of oxygen from how hard you were pushing yourself, you kept going.

Kuroo needed his lunch, oxygen could wait.

Skidding to a halt just before the gym doors, you checked yourself in the phone camera. You grimaced at your tousled hair and flushed face, there wasn’t much that you could do to fix those right now.

Right, time to give the damn rooster head his lunch. A few deep breaths to even out your breathing, and you stepped into the gym, where Kuroo was slumped onto the floor next to Kenma’s sitting figure, complaining loudly that he would die from hunger if Kenma didn’t share his lunch with him.

“Kids these days have no respect for their elders, leaving them to starve to death.” Kuroo pulls a face at the two-toned blonde.

“Kuroo!” You called out, cutting off whatever retort Kenma had planned.

“Oya? Y/n? are you here to bring me food?” He teased, getting to his feet.

“As a matter of fact, I am,” you thrust out the lunch box.

Kuroo’s mouth popped open. “That- that’s for me?” He pointed at himself.

You rolled your eyes. “No it’s for Kenma, because he clearly needs a second lunch.”

The mentioned boy snickers, earning a glare from Kuroo before he turns back to you.

“Y/n,” he says, face filled with seriousness. “Marry me.”

You flush, heat spreading all the way to the tips of your ears. “Shut up and take the food or I’ll leave with it!”

He grins and takes the container from you, fingers brushing lightly against yours. Once you were sure he had a firm grip on it, you yanked your hand back and clutched it to your chest, fingers burning where he had touched.

“Enjoy it or whatever, just return it to me tomorrow.” You turned on your heel abruptly and darted out of the gym, catching only the thanks Kuroo threw after your retreating back.

“Thank you Y/n!”

the second time

If you had a dollar for every time Kuroo disappeared from your side because he got distracted by his friends, you’d be a millionaire by now. Somehow you had managed to walk for god knows how long, just rambling to yourself without even realizing he had vanished. You let out a sigh of annoyance and began backtracking. Hopefully, you would bump into him somewhere along the way.

As you maneuvered your way through the various groups of students lingering in the hallway, you heard a familiar voice chuckle nervously. Your head whipped towards the source and found Kuroo backed up against the wall by a few girls who had sickeningly sweet smiles plastered across their faces.

You purse your lips in an attempt to keep your laughter back, amused by the desperate look on Kuroo’s face.

“Kuroo, are you free after school today? I know a great cafe that just opened down the road!” One of the girls batted her lashes at him, leaning in as she spoke.

Kuroo pressed himself further into the wall. “Ah, I have volleyball practice later. But thank you for the offer.”

He tried to inch his way out, but the group tightened around him, forcing him to stay put.

“Aww, can’t you skip just once? You’re always having practice,” another girl pouts, resting her hand on his bicep.

You stopped laughing.

Okay, that was enough fun at his expense, that girl was crossing a line by touching him. You cleared your throat loudly as you strolled forward, a look of pure boredom plastered across your face.

“Kuroo, how many times are you gonna get lost?” You chided him, intentionally ignoring the girls.

A look of pure relief had appeared upon his face the second he spotted you, and his eyes screamed ‘save me’ even as he replied to you smoothly, “As long as you come find me, I'll be fine.”

You frowned at him. “What if I decided not to find you one day?”

Kuroo let out a gasp of fake offense. “You wouldn’t!”

“Ahem, we were having a conversation here.” The first girl shot you a nasty look.

Raising an eyebrow at her, you replied coolly, “It seems to me that the conversation is over, so maybe don’t interrupt the one we have now?”

She scoffed, flipping her hair over her shoulder, narrowly missing Kuroo’s face. “Who said it was over? You’re the one who barged in.”

You stifled a laugh at the indignant look on Kuroo's face at almost eating hair. “I said it was over, I need kuroo for other things that are more important than you trying to come on to him. C’mon kitty, let’s go.”

Ignoring the soft protest from Kuroo at the nickname, you pushed past the girls and grabbed his arm, tugging him out of the circle they had formed around him.

“Bye girls.” You waved over your shoulder and walked off with Kuroo in tow.

Once you were a safe distance away from them, Kuroo draped himself over you. “Please, marry me. Maybe then they’d leave me alone.”

Trying your best to calm your racing heart and pretend you weren’t affected by him, you shrugged him off.

“Oh shut up, if you weren’t so friendly all the time maybe they wouldn’t try to make so many moves.”

Kuroo sighs loudly. “It's called being civilized, you should try it sometime.”

You raise a brow at him. “Did that save you from them?”

“....No.”

“Right so shut up.”

“Marry me tho?”

“I said shut up!”

the third time

You sat under a tree, leaning against it as you flipped through your textbook. You were waiting for Kuroo to end volleyball practice so that you could go for dinner. His treat, he had promised you the other day, for finding kenma and dragging him to practice.

The time for the end of practice came, and you sat there patiently, waiting for him to walk past you. Members of the volleyball team had already greeted you on their way out, but still no Kuroo. Finally, as Yaku and Kai appeared, you stood up and walked up to them.

“Hey Yaku, Kai.” They greeted you back. “Where’s Kuroo?”

Yaku grimaced slightly as he replied. “The idiot got a leg cramp right as practice ended, so he’s sitting in the middle of the court trying to wait it out right now.”

You rolled your eyes. “Seriously? Okay, thanks, I’ll go find him and make sure he’s okay.”

“Give us a call if you need help, We’ll come back to school.” Kai told you.

“What? No, we won’t-“ Yaku squawked in outrage as Kai elbowed him. “Fine, we will.”

“Thanks guys, but I doubt I need to. I should be able to handle this oversized cat on my own.” You smiled at them and took your leave, heading towards the gym.

On your way in, you bumped into Kenma who had his eyes glued to his switch.

“Kenma!” You reached out a hand to steady the boy.

“Oh, hey Y/n. he’s in there,” Kenma nods inside. “He has a leg cramp.”

“Yeah, Yaku told me. I’ll take care of him,” you patted Kenma’s arm. “Don’t walk and play, you might trip.”

Kenma frowned slightly, “I haven't tripped yet.”

You laughed and shook your head, waving at him as he left. Crossing the threshold into the gym, you spotted Kuroo lying spread eagle in the middle of the court, eyes closed.

“Oi, what happened to dinner?” You called out to him as you walked over.

He started, body flinging upright as he stared at you wide-eyed.

“Oh shit, that was today?”

You stared at him in disbelief. Really? He forgot?

Examining his face closely, you noted how exhausted he looked, with dark circles under his eyes and the exhaustion that sat heavily upon his shoulders. Sighing heavily, you sat on the floor next to him.

“Alright, which leg is it,” you asked, prodding both legs.

He pointed to his right calf, and you got to work, kneading the tight muscle. Kuroo groaned in pain.

“Could you be, a little gentler?” He gritted out.

Raising your eyebrows at him, you pressed down particularly hard, causing him to yelp and attempt to pull his leg away.

“Stop complaining and let me do my thing,” you demanded, smacking him lightly.

He sulked but stopped trying to move away from you, the occasional grunt coming from him as he watched you massage his leg. When you were sure the cramp had passed, you let go of him, shaking out your now sore hands. Kuroo grabbed onto them, clutching them gently as he looked at you.

“Marry me.” His voice sounded so serious for a second that you were taken aback until he burst into laughter. “Your face! God, you looked so startled!”

Scowling, you smacked him across the head hard. “Shut up, idiot! You’re the one that always fakes proposing to me when we’re not even dating!”

He grins at you, a smile that reaches his eyes as he asks, “Well then, will you date me?”

What.

Kuroo takes your silence the wrong way and begins rambling. “Unless you don’t like me and I’ve been reading the signs all wrong, Then you can totally just take it as a joke because-“

You slap a hand over his mouth. “Yes.”

He says something, but the words are muffled by your hand and he tugs it down to repeat his words again. “Yes as in you’ll date me or yes as in I read the signs wrong?”

“Yes as in you read the signs wrong, because why else would I do all the stupid shit I do for someone who I don’t like.” You deadpan. Kuroo’s face shifts into mild panic and you facepalm.

“Yes, I do like you, you idiot!”

“Oh, jesus, don’t play with my feelings like that! What if I got a heart attack? I'm old, you know!” He yelps as you punch him in the chest.

“You’re 18, not 80.”

“Okay but you’d still date me if I was 80 right?” He smirks, tugging on the collar of your uniform.

“Who said I’d date you now?”

“You just did! And there’s no taking back that confession!” He laughs gleefully.

“What’s stopping me from rejecting you though,” you smile darkly.

He freezes, arms in mid-wave.

“Uhhhh, I’ll buy you food?”

“Deal.”

plus one

It's been a while since you had seen your boyfriend for more than brief moments in the morning and night, and for the first time in weeks, he said he was going to end work early and come home for dinner.

You hummed as you went around the kitchen preparing a variety of dishes for him, the most important one being his favourite grilled mackerel. Even after years of being together, you still hadn’t gotten used to the smell of fish and fought the urge to gag as the smell wafted up to you.

Kuroo knew how much you didn’t like it, so he never requested you to cook it, opting to eat it only when you guys went to his parents' house for dinner.

But seeing as how he had been working hard and pushing himself to the brink of exhaustion, you decided to suck it up and prepare the dish for him. What was one mere dish in comparison to love, huh?

Right as you set the last dish onto the dining table, Kuroo came through the door, tossing his bag onto the sofa carelessly and draped himself over your back.

“Hey kitty, how was work?” You smiled as you felt him burrow his face into your neck.

“It was tiring, as always. how was- is that grilled mackerel?” He lifted his head to stare at the table, where the dish sits smack in the middle smiling at him.

“Yeah, it is,” you said casually, twisting around in his hold to face him. “I figured you’d like to eat your favourite after working so hard for the past few weeks.”

“Marry me.” It comes out as a rush, the words tripping over themself as his tongue twists over the words.

There’s a ringing in your ears as you process what he just said, taking in the nerves that have settled upon his face.

Your answer escapes in a breathy laugh as you grin up at him.

“Yes.”

A smile stretches across his face and he pulls you into a deep kiss, pouring every bit of happiness and love he felt for you into the kiss.

“I love you so much,” he says in between pecks. “I love you so so so much.”

“I love you too, Tetsu.”

“.....I forgot the ring!”

[itsclydebitches]

RWBY Recaps: Volume 8 “Divide”

Hello, everyone, and welcome back! It feels good to be doing some normal RWBY-ing in this strange world of ours. First, some supplementary materials.

Number One: In response to any (valid) questions along the lines of, “Hey Clyde, it’s now been a full year since Volume 7 was airing and you still haven’t answered my ask about it. Or the ones about Volume 6… what’s up with that?” I’ve created what I hope is an informative video detailing the problem:

(I assure you, the Earth, Wind & Fire was a happy accident during the screen recording.)

Needless to say, there’s a lot and I’ve known for some time now that I will LITERALLY never get through all my asks. Which doesn’t mean I don’t want you to send future thoughts in! Just know that as we head into Volume 8 territory I’ll most likely prioritize those, as well as any Volume 7 asks that aren’t woefully out of date. But I do want everyone to know that I read all the asks I receive, appreciate them immensely, and think too much about hypothetical answers, even if I don’t have time to actually write them out 💜

Number Two: There’s a bingo board this year!

Jury’s out on whether I’ll remember to update it, but at the very least this serves as a decent glimpse into my — and others’ — expectations going into this volume.

Number Three: I’ve collected a list of things I’ve heard about Volume 8 from what seem to be reputable sources. I did this because RT is developing a tendency to talk up certain points and then fail to deliver, either because something was taken out of a volume/moved to another, or because RT apparently has radically different ideas about what including something means. So this might be handy to keep on file and ask ourselves two months from now, “Did RT actually deliver on what they promised?”

Emphasis on Ruby’s leadership and how Summer’s death has impacted her

Insight into Ren and Nora’s flaws

May Merigold will supposedly have a larger part

More information about The Long Memory (Ozpin’s cane)

Theme of the volume is that you can respect someone but that doesn’t necessarily mean you agree with them

Very short timeline (supposedly just two days)

Yang in particular is very suspicious and distrustful

I was also going to include a list of all the threads that need to be continued/wrapped up, but honestly that would have taken too large a chunk off my life. Let’s just throw out the highlights:

Are we really going to have Qrow gunning for Ironwood?

Clover is dead regardless. Press ‘F’ to pay respects

Oscar bb you got shot please acknowledge this

Ozpin bb you got done dirty please acknowledge this

Penny is a Maiden now. I feel like the fandom has been sleeping on this (myself included)

Queer baiting, queer baiting… you’re on thin ice at this point, RWBY. Just skate on over to the queer snack bar before you fall straight into the lake.  

Ren spill your deep dark secret already and it had better be something more than just ‘Oh no Nora might someday die :( ’

Salem is here so how the actual fuck is the cast surviving this?

Will Ironwood likewise survive his descent into antagonism? Yes or please yes no?

I think that’s all the biggies. I strive to keep lists like this in mind while analyzing, but honestly RWBY has a hundred moving parts that are abandoned or changed or simply retconned at the drop of a hat. So an attempt will be made.

Number Four (last one I promise!): Normal disclaimers and reminders for Recaps apply:

Please don’t fill up the already full inbox with flames. It’s still 2020. No one has time for that nonsense.

There will absolutely be typos and wonky parts because I try to get these out the same day an episode premieres. I have now been working on this for ten hours, nearly straight, and have no more energy for edits. Apologies in advance and RIP to my Saturdays.

I reserve the right to use stupid GIFs and memes at my discretion.

I strive to keep my focus on recapping/analyzing but salt tends to worm its way in… If you’re a die-hard RWBY fan with little patience for criticism, let alone (at times) snarky criticism, please proceed with caution.

No wait I lied, this is the last thing:

Okay, got that out of my system LET’S DO THIS!

We start not with the episode itself but rather Rooster Teeth’s (RT’s) strange non-promotion of it. If you follow my blog you may have caught the post where I pointed out that there was nothing on RT’s website to suggest that one of their most popular shows—if not the most popular show—was premiering today. Nothing on the main page. Nothing on the RWBY page either, not unless you count the Volume 8 poster background (easily mistaken for the Volume 7 poster) and the trailer buried all the way down past Episodes, past Merch, in the Bonus Features section along with videos like Live From Remnant and the volume intros. RT… the promotion of your feature show is not a bonus. This should be front and center! Honest to god, five minutes before the episode dropped I was checking the website for a Volume 8 section, a countdown, anything that would tell me the episode was imminent without relying on fans on tumblr to keep me in the loop. We got nada, zilch. I’m not sure whether that speaks more to RT’s iffy management of the series or simply the website’s horrible design—RIP losing RWBY on Youtube—but I was surprised when I saw the episode a few minutes after 11:00am. At that point I honestly expected to hear about a dely.

So that’s the mood I entered the premiere in, but truly? We start off strong. Things take a pretty severe nosedive later on, we’ll get to that, but I was impressed with our beginning and that probably has a lot to do with the fact that we start with our villains.

We open on a Cinderella character, Cinder, and thus I’m immediately pleased that we’re getting something about her backstory after all this time. Seven years! She appeared in episode one, folks! To say we’re overdue is an understatement. There isn’t a whole lot to go on, just a younger Cinder sadly scrubbing the floor, poised under a spotlight. What we learn, or potentially learn, is based far more in cultural knowledge than this scene. We know Cinderella’s story, which includes the abusive family, the longing for more, the eventual escape, and thus we’re able to read all of that in this image, despite the image itself not telling us any of this overtly. That means we could be wrong in our interpretation, but if we’re not it’s an easy shorthand in an already packed story.

What I’m really impressed with is the sound bridge between the scrubbing and her nails on the back of Neo’s chair. Fantastic way to confirm that this is Cinder as well as showcasing just how far she’s come. The sound of her labor has been replaced with the sound of her power and given that Cinder’s power is stolen, tied to a grimm arm, the property of a genocidal maniac… that’s messed up. It’s a Cinderella story gone wrong.

So yeah, Cinder tells Neo to head straight into the creepy, grimm infested blood cloud to see Salem and Neo is like, ‘Uh… no thank you?’ lol.

RT does a good job this episode with her expressions, ensuring we know exactly what she’s thinking despite an unwillingness/inability to speak.

Poor Neo might be in too deep, but I quite like the overall atmosphere of this opening. Say what we will about Salem’s awful characterization, at least she has style. This woman knows how to make an entrance and, piggybacking off of the Apathy, RT knows how to infuse horror elements into their fantasy. The red and purple coloring of the clouds, spiked whale teeth peeking through, bright orange in the background looking like explosions… that’s all 👌 Including the intro card.

The only thing I want to gripe about is this:

I’m sorry, why does the whale grimm have landing pads? Or something like it?? The whale otherwise works because it’s poised between the natural and the fantasy synthetic. It looks like a real grimm whale on the outside, but is sporting a throne room, a control panel, and other unnatural elements on the inside. It’s a visual indicator of Salem’s ability to control and change grimm. Now though, the additions are wrong, infringing on the line between organic and tech, the line between what helps the grimm individually (giving monkeys wings) and what just helps Salem. Every other aspect of the whale straddles that line wonderfully, adding to the creep factor, like a grimm version of the Uncanny Valley: it’s not quite a whale anymore… but landing pads? That looks ridiculous. Why does Salem even have that? How many ships are her people feasibly using? Why are there five?

Take it away, please.

Cinder waltzes in like this is a normal home visit, but Neo has an appropriate ‘What the actual fuck?’ face going on.

They approach Salem on her throne where Cinder immediately kneels, greeting her with, “My queen.” I mentioned during my trailer breakdown that I think Cinder is lying her ass off here, and I still think that based on a line we’ll get in a minute, but now at least we have a sense of how she can pull this off. A woman who started out as a (presumed) servant is going to know how to mimic subservience, even if her heart isn’t in it. Salem is very good at playing the girl who will still kneel and scrub the floor for you. She will scrub the floor, she’ll do everything you want, she’ll just be plotting her own rise to power while she does it.

There’s quite a bit of interesting cinematography in this episode, not all of it good, and I think one of the mistakes is here when we get a closeup on Salem’s mouth as she greets Cinder. A closeup like that should be reserved for more significant dialogue—“Rosebud”—and yet we get this shot again when Cinder tells Emerald to be quiet. It’s awkward and coupled with the numerous eye closeups we got in the trailer, I think RT is playing a little fast and loose with the camera. Each shot should add something to the scene, not distract from it. If you don’t have a reason for including a technique like that then leave it be.

Back to the actual dialogue though. We knew that Salem knew Cinder was alive and now it seems that she just expected her to come back? I’m slightly lost. It feels like we’re missing something here. Cinder goes off to secure the lamp, fails, nearly dies, wanders on her own for months, and then randomly shows back up on Salem’s whale doorstep, yet Salem isn’t angry at all? Did she have faith that Cinder would return when she has something to offer? Did she just not care about Cinder, considering her return an unnecessary but otherwise welcome surprise? That would make the least sense given that she holds the key to accessing Beacon’s relic… but that circles right back around to why Salem is seemingly indifferent to Cinder’s comings and goings. Surely she can’t actually believe that Cinder is loyal?

“So I trust you wouldn’t return to me empty handed,” she says. Yeah, trust means nothing in this show, Salem, didn’t you watch Volumes 6 and 7? Again, I simply don’t know. I suppose I’ll just chalk it up to confidence, that if Cinder did bail Salem knew she could track her down again. Deciphering her motivations and beliefs is a lost cause when the show continually gives us so little.

The important thing now is that Cinder does indeed have an offering and you can see that Salem is somewhat surprised at being handed the relic.

Cinder, of course, takes credit for the victory and we’re given another wonderful shot of Neo. ‘YOU took it?’

Oh, Neo. Best get out while you still can.

Tyrian appears having obviously made his way to Salem’s ship sometime between her arrival and now. The exchange is pretty standard for this group. He insults Cinder for failing and needing this victory to make amends, talks about how any win against Ironwood says more about his lack of intelligence than her skill, and Cinder… doesn’t have a whole lot of comebacks, actually. I’d say Tyrian won that verbal spar, enhanced by a better use of the camera when we get his tail looming menacingly towards Cinder and Neo.

He goes on to say that Watts was a “necessary sacrifice” so, uh… I’m just going to toss out the ask I answered yesterday. Based on our intro I’d say Watts is still significant to the volume—hacking Penny is my guess—but by the end? He could be in trouble.

(As a side note: I plan to analyze the intro next week. It’s just easier when it comes first.)

Tyrian also calls Neo “little one” which I just found absolutely hilarious. In an on brand creepy manner, that is. Not that Neo couldn’t kick his ass, but there’s something wonderfully chilling about having the serial killer use an endearment towards a potential victim, one that comments on her size while he’s looming.

In contrast, Cinder refers to Neo as a “valuable asset” and we get our third mood of the episode.

Who’s going to start a Neo reaction image collection?

It’s true enough on the surface—who wouldn’t want an ally who can turn into anyone else?—but we’re still bumping up against question of why Salem needs this. She’s immortal! She has an endless army! Magic! This scene works well with a villain who needs a skillset like Neo’s to succeed, but Salem doesn’t. RT is doing a great job writing a story thus far, just not the story we’ve previously been given. This isn’t the story they set up.

This will come back up when we reach the RWBYJNOR group. Just wait.

Before that though, the gang��s all here as Emerald, Mercury, and Hazel show up, all in new outfits.

I think I like everything except for the weird Xs on Emerald’s jacket—it’s way too distracting and frankly makes an otherwise good look ugly—and the fact that she’s showing her midriff in Atlas. Hazel doesn’t have any sleeves! Oh my god, why doesn’t anyone dress for the weather in this show?

Frankly, I found their reunion to be kind of lackluster. I mean, there was nothing wrong with it. Emerald does sound briefly excited, she does run, and it’s in character for Cinder to cut her off… it just didn’t resonate with me emotionally. I thought after two volumes of thinking she’s dead, then working through the knowledge that she’s alive, that I would feel Emerald’s shock and relief more, but I didn’t. And I’m not entirely sure why. I don’t want to level any accusations at the voice acting because frankly I know next to nothing about that skill (and from what I’ve seen it’s usually praised in the fandom), but I will say that throughout the premiere I was noticing it more than I ever have before. The lack of emotion here and some awkward deliveries later, like when Yang goes, “Ruby, there is no way Ironwood will cooperate with us” and I immediately thought, “Wow, that came out stilted.” These observations stick with me because, as said, voice acting usually isn’t on my radar. It’s not something I’ve studied or had practice analyzing. If you’d never told me that Ren or Qrow’s VA changed then after a year hiatus I literally wouldn’t notice… but there’s something about this episode that didn’t sit right. Anyone else get that sense, or was it just me?

Regardless, the arrival of our other three villains really doesn’t amount to much, though I’m happy for all the Emerald and Mercury fans who get to see them in new outfits. The focus is still on Cinder as she delivers a line indicative of her true motivations: “That power will be mine.” Yeah, she’s not loyal to Salem, she’s just power hungry. Of course, Salem immediately takes note of this and raises her hand, in another nice use of the foreground, reminding her that she hasn’t given that order.

Cinder is shocked, angry even, but quickly covers it up with her “Without you I am nothing” line. If I caught it right I think she also calls Salem “Ma’am”? Hilarious. Again, skilled at playing the servant.

Also, before I forget, it’s worth noting that almost everything from our trailer appeared in this episode. Yeah, there are a few details like Nora attacking some tech and the group on their bikes, but on the whole we’ve already seen the majority of our promo material and will likely get most of the rest next week. It makes me both interested and nervous for what another twelve episodes are going to hold.

Salem opens her whale, or opens a portal type view in it, something that gives us a long-distance look at Atlas. I don’t know what exactly is going on here, but it’s pretty so I’ll take it.

She also delivers the frankly badass line, “Just because you’re more valuable to me than a pawn does not make you a player.”

She waves them all away with perfect ‘You mean nothing to me’ attitude and we sadly leave our villains.

Sad not because I don’t love my farm boy, but because things are about to get a whole lot messier.

Oscar has made his way to a camp of civilian survivors… all of whom are just hanging out in the supposedly deadly cold. Yeah, there’s a single fire, but at least four of them aren’t anywhere near it. Three of them also aren’t wearing gloves. What was that survival rate again?

A nice if gruff dude gives Oscar soup—water?—while showing off his… badger claws? I don’t know what kind of faunus he’s supposed to be, but he feels like the sort of two second, minor character who could easily become a meme lol.

Oscar thanks him (my polite son!) and hands the bowl back after a single sip. Which is impressive because I would have assumed the guy was giving me the whole bowl and just taken it. Hell, I’ve done that even when I didn’t assume it’s all for me. A Starbucks barista once approached me with a tray and a plate of samples, I knew I was supposed to take just one, yet for some reason my hand went to take the whole goddamn plate. He had to tell me off, then I was trying to explain that I didn’t actually want or think I should have eight shots of cappuccino all to myself, I don’t even like coffee, he clearly didn’t believe me… it was awkward. So good job, Oscar. You’re less awkward than me (though that’s not saying much).

Now a question, Oscar. Darling. Brilliant boy who has been through too much: why the fuck aren’t you talking to Ozpin? This will be A Thing later when he presents a lack of time to talk as justification for keeping more secrets (we’ll get to that too…) yet here is time! You’re just sitting there for who knows how long, with plenty of privacy to hide a supposedly one-sided conversation so the Mantle citizens don’t get weirded out or suspicious. Talk to Ozpin. Our headmaster gets two lines in this episode, utterly inconsequential lines like his airship scene, lines that feel like they exist to say, “See? He’s still included in the story!” even though he absolutely is not. Two volumes of mostly silence, a perfect setup to start the reconciliation process, but we’re going to put it off again?

Instead Ruby randomly and conveniently appears. I want to know how she found him. Oscar isn’t wearing a tracker. He clearly didn’t call them because he’s surprised when Ruby shows up. He fell alllllllll the way back down to Mantle and then wandered to a random part of the slums. You’re telling me they flew over the entire city—after beginning this search thinking he was in Atlas—and somehow managed to spot him from up in the air? C’mon. I would have rather had a beginning where Oscar makes his way back to the group himself, giving him and Ozpin time to hash things out.

“Need a lift?” Ruby says, eliminating that potential. Sigh.

Oscar immediately starts beating himself up when he gets onboard, saying that he “was stupid to think the General would listen.” Nah, you were stupid to buy into Ruby’s nonsensical confidence and for telling Ironwood he’s as bad as Salem. Sorry, Oscar, but everyone is written badly these days. I will, however, say that I am THRILLED at the group’s reaction to his return. Ruby says that she’s “just glad you’re alright.” Nora has a wonderfully tender moment where she hugs him gently rather than her usual glomp.

That? That added a year to my life. Everyone else seems relieved that he’s okay too, so kudos there. After four years of Oscar being an outsider in the group, this is one of the few moments that feel like he’s 100% accepted. Really glad to see it.

Now let’s see if it sticks after they learn Ozpin is back...

They fly to the Happy Huntresses’ base and I again feel like I’ve missed something crucial. When did they team up? I mean, RWBYJNOR was working directly under Ironwood up until the last hour and Robyn ran off to fight Tyrian/Clover in the last couple episodes. When did she have time to explain her (briefly) changed allegiance and why would the Happy Huntresses trust the group without that? Did Robyn share that Blake and Yang went behind Ironwood’s back for her? Do the Huntresses instinctively trust them because they’re now wanted by the military? How did they even run into each other?

Again, I think we would have been better served to have an episode before all this. Let Oscar make his way back and let the group struggle with the magnitude of their situation on the airship, before they find new allies. Transferring directly to, “They have help and a secret base and a plan in the works!” makes me feel like I missed the real premiere last week. You know, the one where Salem unexpectedly arrived and we left the group like this.

This is where we’ve ended up though. The group is cozy in this hideout, getting info from Joanna, and my only other thought is, “Why is she giving all this exposition?”  

Shouldn’t it be May? I mean, we were told that she was going to play more of a role this volume, a promise that’s pretty important imo given her status as a (so far off screen) trans character, so why not put her in the role of mediator between the Happy Huntresses and RWBYJNR? Giving her that setup as a leader among her people as well as lots of lines would be meaningful. A trans character just existing and being a part of this fight! May could obviously still fill that role—I’m well aware that we’re only one episode in—but it just seems like a missed opportunity to me. Out of all the undeveloped Happy Huntresses, our premiere focuses on the one who has the least importance to the fandom.

As said, Joanna talks a fair bit but what it basically boils down to is trying to get everyone to the crater below Atlas. It’s apparently not safe, but it’s warm, which is what matters right now.

So… let me get this straight. You want to gather everyone into a not safe crater, by leading them through an army of grimm, so that they can wait there in case someone moves the Staff, thus dropping an entire city on top of their heads? That’s the plan? Which admittedly isn’t Joanna’s fault. This is another instance of RWBYJNOR having information that a leader does not and they should really consider speaking up about it. But of course they don’t.

Also, how long does everyone have in regards to the cold? Shouldn’t there be dead civilians by now? The time it would take to find the Happy Huntresses, team up with them, get settled in the base, and find Oscar says that things should be pretty grim right now (pardon the pun), yet every non-aura user in this city seems content to just hang out in the snow. Either the cold is deadly enough to justify moving everyone to the crater, or it’s mild enough to let everyone survive this long, not both.

After hugs are given everyone obviously wants to know what happened to Oscar. His response?

“It’s a… long story. I get the feeling there’s been a few of those tonight.”

That’s a check for the bingo card! We’re halfway through the first episode and we’ve already got another secret. Yes, this is a secret. Oscar actively chooses not to tell anyone that Ozpin is back—something Ozpin himself comments on—and then skillfully draws attention away from himself with “I get the feeling there’s been a few of those tonight.” Indeed, all eyes go to Penny. Oscar’s plight is forgotten, which is what he wanted. His justification?

Ozpin: “You’re not going to tell them?”

Oscar: “You and I aren’t done talking yet.”

Along with this look.

Oscar no. There’s so much wrong with this I don’t even know where to begin. Let’s create a list.

As said, you had plenty of time to talk to Ozpin and chose not to. Miss me with this excuse.

You are now doing to your friends exactly what you and your friends did to Ironwood, which in turn is what Ozpin did to you! I can’t believe we’ve got Oscar critically side-eyeing him when they are still—still—repeating the behavior they drove Ozpin away for.

What is there to even talk about now? Oscar didn’t punch himself/Ozpin (lol) but he did steal Jinn’s name from Ozpin in the first place. You got what you wanted, drove him away, and have been lying and keeping secrets ever since. The only thing they should be talking about involves apologizing. Any further criticism—which is what Oscar’s expression and curt reply suggests—is beyond hypocritical.

Seriously, what needs to be discussed? There’s no reason not to tell the group unless Oscar wants to talk about whether they should tell them. There’s no good ending here...

Don’t you think it would be nice to know that Ozpin is back and you’ve got super magic powers while making plans to save the entire world?

This is all especially stupid given Oscar’s “Salem wants to divide us” reminder to Ruby in a moment. Oscar, you are doing the most to divide the group right now. By not forgiving Ozpin. By refusing to work with him. By keeping him secret from everyone else.

This is bad, friends, I worry for what the rest of the volume will bring…

The story is done with Ozpin for now so I guess I will be too. The group continues filling Oscar in and we get some shots of the base, including a rather prominent poster of what I assume are two Happy Huntresses. Did they die in battle perhaps?

It’s a little strange.

Oscar: “Where’s Qrow?”

Me: “Likely still making bad decisions.”

No one knows so they just drop it. Which I kind of get, only so much you can do to find him if he’s not out on the streets like Oscar, but it still reads as kind of iffy that two nieces look down at the ground for a hot second and then move on with their plans, content to leave Qrow to whatever fate befell him. In a minute we’ll see Yang firmly take Ren’s side regarding helping the people they can in Mantle, which frankly comes out of nowhere for her. I think an easy motivation would have been Qrow. Ruby wants to save the world, Yang wants to find and save their uncle, and that just happens to align with Ren’s desire to save the civilians who need immediate grimm and cold help. Don’t get me wrong, I like that there’s finally some division between the sisters, I just wish it hadn’t come about so abruptly. Ren had setup for standing up to Ruby. Yang did not.

But I’m getting a little ahead of myself. Joanna lists the grimm horde and no heat as the major threats to everyone. The group agrees.

Me: What about Salem?

Joanna says that this is all doubly dangerous because there’s “no more military protection.”

Me: Oh, so now you want the military?

This is all so disjointed. Even more-so when Joanna mentions that Ironwood has stopped all evacuations to Atlas, likely due to the “hard light shields” that are the only thing standing between Salem and the city. Thing is, the show never makes this connection, I just did it myself based on this scene and the one that comes later. The show presents Joanna’s line as a pure condemnation. Ironwood won’t let more evacuees in because… he’s just evil, I guess. Yet there is a justification here, namely that continuing the evacuations even while he’s stuck without Penny leaves him wide open to a Salem attack, the death of everyone currently safe, but that argument is never presented to the viewer. I don’t need people to agree with Ironwood’s perspective, I just wish that perspective was offered as an option. The show is very good about acting like RWBYJNOR’s opinion is the only justified opinion, or simply the only opinion at all.

After everything is laid out Weiss goes, “We’re never going to sleep again, I just know it.”

I could make a crack about the lack of continuity and how the group should be collapsing right now… but that was a funny line. It can stay.

What is far more of a problem is the fact that no one is talking about Salem. Okay, that’s a lie. They do talk about her, but in a roundabout way like her presence isn’t impacting every decision they make. That’s the real issue. They’re acting as if Salem isn’t here right now, like she’s off far away, maybe approaching slowly, and they’re arguing over how best to prep the world for her eventual attack. There’s no emotion here—let alone action—to reflect that the series’ Big Bad has arrived and is poised to murder them all. Literally what is this? Ruby is yelling about warning the world and, ignoring the continued question of why that’s a good thing when the world can do nothing to stop Salem and knowledge of her continually drives people to horrible acts, she has yet to acknowledge that… she’s the world? Ruby is the world in this conflict. She, Mantle, and Atlas. Salem is here for you all. Right now. You are, this instant, in the situation you want to warn others about, so why don’t you try to do something about it? Or at least acknowledge it. Ruby wants to warn the neighborhood about a potential fire while her house is actively ablaze, and the fire could have totally killed her by now but decided not to for… reasons.

“Ruby’s right,” Nora says. They have to tell the world so “they can prepare.” How? How are they supposed to prepare for this? The story cannot continue ignoring Salem’s immortality.

“Ruby’s right,” is all Blake says and I’m starting to thinks that’s why her character exists now, to agree with Ruby. It’s great that she’s getting a little distance from Yang, but man.

As Ruby asks whether Pietro can get Amity up and running despite it not being finished (called it) we start an incredibly odd sequence of flashforwards to their individual missions. I’ve seen a lot of praise for this already and though I agree that, in theory, it’s a good way to save time, I found the actual execution to be jarring. Upon thinking back through our timeline, it became clear they were flashforwards, but while watching I thought they might be flashbacks (especially since that’s more common).

Some of the shots, like Nora’s, just look awkward when you’ve got the exact expression and pose transplanted from one scene to another, like she’s a cardboard cutout behind a green screen. To say nothing of how the flashforwards ruin any suspense (I use that word loosely) in the conversation itself. If the question is, “Will they decide to go to the military compound?” then that question is answered when we see Ruby scoping out the compound, not when the group actually decides on the course of action.

It just made an already muddled scene worse for me, so I hope this trend doesn’t continue.

And of course, Amity can be used despite all the info last volume claiming that it wasn’t finished. Pietro suddenly acts like it is finished and the only thing standing in their way is Ironwood providing access. If that were the case, he would have used Amity weeks or days ago like he wanted to! When was it finished? Not after Watts commented on how incomplete it was. When did they get back the resources they needed from Robyn? It’s as ridiculous and retcon-y as I thought it would be.

Yang points out that Ironwood will never listen to them and Ruby counters that “he doesn’t have to.” They’ll just take the access from him. Because why wouldn’t they in a series where they’ve already stolen two airships? Stealing from the super evil military that Joanna wishes were helping them right now is just the group’s go-to plan nowadays.

Pietro isn’t sold on this plan though. He lists at least three obstacles they’d need to get through “and then… oh boy, I might need to think about this some more.” “And just to clarify,” Oscar says, “This is the easy option?” Um...no it’s not? We also know there’s an access point in Ironwood’s office so… why not go there instead? They really think the Academy is less guarded than the military base? There’s a potential justification here along the lines of, “After Neo and Cinder broke into his office Ironwood will have the place on high alert,” but unless I missed it the group doesn’t assume anything like that. They just listen to Pietro point out all the ways they can’t get into the military base and jump straight to that being the best option. It feels like a transparent way to create conflict for the group. We’ll just have them taking the most dangerous route despite an easy route being offered alongside it. Why bother mentioning his office at all? Just have the access in the military base. Boom, done.

It’s that conflict and the fact that Ruby tends to hear “You can’t” and digs in her heels. You can’t go to Atlas. I’ll just steal a ship then. You can’t defeat Salem. Watch me. You can’t break into this base. Guess what I’m doing! She’s dangerous in her fairy tale, meta-driven insistence that everything will turn out her way because she wants it to.

Speaking of, we finally—FINALLY—get someone challenging Ruby. Sort of. Not actually but it’s the closest we’ve ever gotten:

Yang: “Ruby, when we came here we said we’d follow your lead… but things haven’t exactly worked out.”

Now, there are two things to take away from this moment. The first is how utterly shocked Ruby and the others are. I mean, take a look at these expressions.

Ruby straight up can’t believe what she’s hearing. Weiss put her hand to her mouth like this is the most dramatic thing to ever happen to her. Oscar looks down in a ‘Yeah, I agree but please don’t look at me and make me admit that’ way. And Nora looks indifferent in the screenshot but animated she goes sort of stern, likely pissed that Yang would dare say that given her own agreement with Ruby. This not only reiterates that Yang’s challenge came out of nowhere—seriously, how did we move from following Ruby no matter what to this? Last volume she asked a single question along the lines of, ‘You sure?’ and when Ruby said ‘Yes’ Yang was entirely on board—but also demonstrates that no one has EVER said no to her before. Ruby is amazed that someone would challenge her. The act of challenging Ruby is, in and of itself, shocking. This group has gotten so used to following Ruby blindly that the teensiest little pushback is greeted with this.

Because it is teensy. This is the second takeaway: Yang barely challenges her and that challenge leads nowhere. She doesn’t accuse Ruby of anything, she doesn’t question her continued authority, she just broadly implies that things could be better. We followed you, now things are bad, take from that what you will. It’s incredibly mild as far as criticism goes, making the shock all the more, well, shocking, but it also amounts to—wait for it—nothing! Because Yang didn’t truly challenge Ruby’s leadership. She’s still in charge, she’s still calling the shots, and they’re still listening to her. We might have gotten some change if this division had been allowed to play out, but instead Jaune comes in with a, “Let’s go for both!” solution. It let’s both groups get what they want which, in turn, releases them from the need to grapple with whether they’ll listen to Ruby when she’s advocating for something they don’t agree with. We have now lost the chance to see whether, when push comes to shove, Ren and Yang will cave to Ruby’s will or stick by their own beliefs.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s more conflict than we’ve gotten in years, but that doesn’t mean it’s particularly compelling conflict. It’s good by RWBY’s standards, which doesn’t necessarily make it good. The actual issues at hand—Ruby’s dangerous arrogance, the group’s loyalty, her choices up until now—are just swept under the rug. For all the visuals we get insisting that there’s this great divide in the group… there’s really not. Not in any way that matters.

Also, Ruby is an idiot. Okay, that was mean, but she really is in this scene. She’s actually not an idiot overall because she was written as wonderfully intelligent in the early volumes, but now? Lately? She makes me want to bang my head against a wall.

“But that’s how Salem got this far,” she cries. “By dividing us!”

Ruby… oh my god, Ruby. No one should have to explain to you that dividing people means turning them against each other, not literally dividing your team to complete separate tasks. This girl honestly thought that because there was this teensy disagreement and that half the team would complete Plan A while she and the other half completed Plan B, both of which notably work towards the goal of, “Protect people from Salem,” that this was somehow what Salem wanted. That is was dangerous. Honestly, it’s a scary look at her view of leadership too: If everyone doesn’t 100% agree with me and do what I say, that’s an objectively bad thing that the grimm queen wants, right? Does Ruby think that unification means following a single person (her) without question or variation? That would explain a lot...

The fact that Oscar needs to explain the difference to her is not good. It really doesn’t say great things about this version of Ruby. Though he was comparing Ironwood to Salem last volume, so really they should all be wearing dunce hats.

Penny offers to take the relic directly to Salem in exchange for her leaving the kingdom alone. I honestly didn’t expect that. If anyone took that risk I would have put my money on Ozpin (but of course, during all this talk of the women he knows best, he’s kept quiet). Oscar is again the voice of wisdom, pointing out that they have no reassurance that Salem will keep her word. At least Penny is thinking about Salem as a threat though, so kudos for that. When this plan is shot down she volunteers to get Ruby past the military security instead and, uh, she’s a little intense about it.

I’m not entirely sure what is going on with Penny. She disagreed with Winter but then seemed to come around to her point of view, enough to help anyway. They had another (stupid) disagreement about the value of individual lives, so that helps to explain why she’s teaming up with RWBYJNOR (if you ignore that Ironwood is also trying to save individual lives...). Did watching Fria die shake her up? Is it being the Winter Maiden that’s not sitting right? Does Penny have lingering feelings about the framing that haven’t shown up until now? Her status as a ‘real girl’? We’ve got a lot of reasons that could definitely explain this sudden need to fight, but we’re not told which—if any of these—is the driving force.  

We’re then given a lot of little details. Someone points out that if Salem gets the staff and “create[s] anything else” then Atlas will fall (so yeah, let’s move the people underneath it). We still don’t know what exactly the Staff does because “creation” is kind of broad and “powering a city to float” doesn’t seem to sit within that category at all. Pietro gives Yang the keys to his lab so they can get the bikes. We see the group dividing in the flashforwards, something I do like, especially since the show has gone out of its way to break up most of the usual duos. Nora in particular is pissed at Ren for his choice.

“Oh, I’m saving Mantle because I actually believe we can do this.”

#yikes. Well, I did say I wanted a conflict other than ‘Oh no, one of us might die’ and it looks like I got it. But Nora, the only reason you can do this is because the plot is in your corner: none of you are collapsing from two major fights, you didn’t lose your aura so the cold isn’t a danger, the military is barely a threat all of a sudden, Salem is helpfully hanging out in her whale instead of killing you, and the story decided that Amity can function so long as you all are the ones who get to use it. That’s why you can do this. Ren, who follows in-world logic and doesn’t want to risk a whole kingdom’s worth of lives on a pipe dream, thinks differently, oddly enough.

As they leave though Penny gets a call from Ironwood. I know precisely what the fandom is going to say here: “This evil man is just trying to use Penny to open the vault!” Of course he is. He needs it open to save everyone he can, Penny included. Plus the concept of “using” her is a double-edged sword. What do we think the group is doing right now? Using her to get past the security. Penny’s power is a tool any way you slice it. Granted, Penny volunteers to help the group, but notably here Ruby speaks for her. Penny seems torn and Ruby takes the scroll away with, “She’s not going anywhere until you change your mind about Mantle.”

Sorry, Ruby, but coming from you that sounds less like a reassurance for Penny and more like just an order for Ironwood. Remember Harriet? We’ll stop attacking you provided you do what we want. Ruby has yet to learn about compromises, let alone acknowledge that she might be wrong. How about you let Penny decide where she goes, especially since by all logic she should have a lot of loyalty to Ironwood. She knew him before she ever met you. She’s worked with him since she was rebuild post-Volume 3. Despite what Penny has said, if the story would just let her think about his actions for a hot second—making her the protector of Mantle, sticking up for her after the framing, sending her to the party, teaming her up with Ruby, etc.—she might realize that the ‘He doesn’t want me to have friends’ and ‘He just treats me like a tool’ assumptions are just that, unfounded assumptions. But no, Ruby speaks for them both because Ironwood is evil now.

“If she makes it through our defenses,” Ironwood says, “everything that follows will be on your hands.”

That’s true! Kind of like how it’s own Qrow’s hands that Clover died. When you insist on making a bad situation worse you hold responsibility when the shit hits the fan. You know though that Salem won’t get through their defenses now, somehow, so that there’s no chance RWBYJNOR will be blamed for it. Or, by that point Ironwood will be so crazed that anything coming out of his mouth is dismissed, no matter how accurate it might be.

We then transfer to the Ace Ops who are, despite what the fandom theorized for many months, clearly upset about Clover. Also pissed. Which they have every right to be. Their friend and leader was killed. Imagine for a moment that Ruby had been murdered by Tyrian with an allies’ help. Exactly what do you think the group would do? Swallow it quietly and get over it? Ha.

I’ve already seen some speculation that Clover survived due to details like showing us the bandage and his room being listed as for a “Patient,” but he looks pretty dead to me.

He got gutted through the chest and left out in the snow for who knows how long. We saw him slip away. Qrow screamed over his dead body. He’s not breathing now. If RWBY suddenly claims he survived this, I’m calling BS.

Most of the other visuals we get here were already dropped in the trailer. Winter is pretty injured from her encounter with Cinder, likely permanently based on her new outfit. Ironwood had to replace his arm—and I am calling BS on that “Losing his arm is reflective of him losing his humanity” commentary from RT. Please go read up on a couple decades worth of ableism in media and then get back to me.

We get Ironwood’s line about the light shields and, notably, a whole lot of empathy. Regardless of what he might want Penny for, he still called her with compassion. He’s watching the Ace Ops mourn their friend. He’s talking about protecting his kingdom. The first thing he says to Winter is, “Thank you, Winter. I don’t know what I would do without you.” Ironwood has a heart! It’s always on display, which makes this scene utterly ridiculous.

I literally don’t know how to respond to this. The gunshot made me jump, both because it’s a gunshot and because, again, what the fuck? I know I said that next volume RT might just have Ironwood descend into full villainy, shooting whoever he pleases now that he’s shot Oscar, but I didn’t actually expect them to do it. Because he never should have shot Oscar in the first place! I wanted the story to let Oscar grapple with it a bit and then quietly backtrack, acknowledging it as the mistake it was. The concept that Ironwood, empathetic Ironwood, rational Ironwood, always thinks before he acts Ironwood, let’s kids yell at him Ironwood, tried to team up with Robyn Ironwood, did everything Ruby wanted Ironwood, won’t kill Watts after he destroyed his arm Ironwood would shoot this guy just to shut him up is absurd. It was absurd then, it’s absurd now.

That being said, there’s a possibility he didn’t actually shoot the council member, but rather just (“just”) gave a warning shot down the hallway. I say this because the reactions to this are pretty tame. Everyone looks startled, yeah, but after the initial shot there’s nothing that I would expect if there was now a guy bleeding out on the floor. The council woman doesn’t scream. Winter doesn’t seem overly shocked. No one is running to try and help him. Basically, if Ironwood had just killed a political figure in front of six witnesses, entirely unprovoked, I would expect a bit more of a reaction than this. This feels far more like a, “Damn he’s not joking around, letting off warning shots to get people to leave him alone” not “WOW, our general just killed someone in cold blood!”

What I really hate though—beyond just assassinating his character—is how many fans think my friends and I are delusional for calling it character assassination at all. I hopped onto the RWBY tag for five minutes this morning and was bombarded with posts about how Ironwood needs to be murdered horrifically, anyone who likes him is sick, the Ironwood stans are as bad as Adam stans, you’re an idiot if you want him redeemed… because apparently the concept of a story writing a character badly doesn’t compute. I’m not here to argue that Ironwood didn’t do these awful things (regardless of whether he actually killed the guy or not). I’m not here to argue that they’re not awful. I’m just here to say that we never should have gotten these scenes in the first place, or if we were going to get them, we deserved an actual descent into murder at the drop of a hat territory. I’ve already explained extensively on this blog how early Ironwood was not accurate foreshadowing for this, and Volume 7 certainly wasn’t setup, but it looks like the majority of fans aren’t interested in examining whether any of this adds up. Which makes my job, as someone trying to examine this series somewhat objectively—in as much as that’s possible for any single viewer—as well as simply enjoy it as a show, really hard. It’s bad enough when a story keeps taking the characters you love and villainizing them, and doing that badly, but then when you turn to the community and see them rallying around the idea that you’re awful for being dissatisfied—you’re the bootlicker, you’re the blind stan, you can’t see what’s ‘really’ going on here… that sucks. For those of you happy and satisfied with Ironwood’s arc, that’s great! I’ve also seen a lot of posts hyping up the complexity of his character now. There’s nothing wrong with enjoying what we’ve been given and I’d never want to imply that just because it’s not what I wanted it’s somehow wrong. I’m honestly thrilled that after a year of worry so many people have adored our premiere, including this scene. I just wish that I could say RWBY had given me something I didn’t want in a persuasive manner and that the fandom as a whole was a bit more welcoming of differing criticisms.

Not that I didn’t already know the RWBY fandom had its flaws, but still lol.

That’s basically it for our premiere. Nice note to end on, huh? Our final scene is of Salem using the lamp to set her bloodhound grimm on the city. Why doesn’t she just go herself? What was she planning to do here in Atlas in the first place, considering that getting the relic was a surprise? Who knows. Little about this holds together. But we do end with another awesome shot, so small favors.

It’s always strange concluding a recap, but even more-so when it’s a premiere, during a historical moment in the U.S., amidst all the nonsense that is 2020. So for now I’ll just conclude with three quick things:

The updated bingo board will be listed at the end of each recap, provided I don’t forget about it lol. Today I’m checking off tone (not nearly enough freaking out about Salem), the team keeping secrets (Oscar), and major plot point dropped (Amity is suddenly finished). I could also probably check off the cold not killing civilians and getting Amity up and running, but we’ll see if any changes with those.

I’m including my Ko-Fi link at the end of recaps now. Not with any expectations. Not with anything resembling pressure. I thought long and hard over whether to include it at all—let alone mention it here—because I love doing these and never want anyone to feel like it comes with strings attached. But life is a little harder and weirder than it was last year, so I figure it can’t hurt. Feel free to pass on by and I won’t be bringing it up past this note.

Far more importantly: thank you for reading! :D

(Bonus 4. Editing this was an absolute nightmare — damn you, tumblr!  — so I apologize if anything is super wonky when I finally post.)

See you next week! 💜

[Ko-Fi]

[thegreenwolf]

Betting on the Ponies (originally posted at my blog at https://thegreenwolf.com/betting-on-the-ponies/)

(Above:  Breyer Classic Arabian Stallion made over into a winged unicorn with real wings from a barnyard mix rooster I raised for meat.)

If you’ve been paying attention to my social media or my shop links at all, you may have noticed that I haven’t really been posting much in the way of new hide and bone art for the past year or so. It’s not that I’ve stopped; I still make some fun things for my Patrons on Patreon every month, and I make some bone, tooth and claw jewelry on Etsy to order. But ever since events dried up, I haven’t been regularly making new batches of costume pieces or other Vulture Culture art. My usual M.O. was to make all sorts of new things for an upcoming event, and then once the weekend was done and I was home, post whatever hadn’t sold on Etsy. And since there haven’t been events…well…I’ve just found myself doing other things.

Some of that is because I’ve had to scramble to make up for the lost income; events were a pretty big chunk of my “pay”, and losing them meant having to tighten the belt. I also lost several other income streams thanks to the pandemic making it unsafe to be around groups of people, which didn’t help. So I had to rely on what was left, along with adopting a few new sources of bits and bobs of cash here and there.

And, honestly, I’ve needed a bit of a break. I’ve been making hide and bone art for over two decades now, and while I love it, any artist eventually wants to explore different media for a while. Sure, I’ve stretched my Vulture wings in new directions, going from costume pieces and ritual tools to assemblages and the Tarot of Bones. But ever since the Tarot came out, I’ve been feeling….not really burned out, but a little creatively wrung out, at least. I’ve really appreciated my Patrons and Etsy customers who have helped me keep a hand in that particular medium, while also allowing me to head off in other directions, too.

Which is to say that if you have been paying attention to the aforementioned social media and shops, you may have also noticed that I’ve been increasing the number of customized Breyer model horses and other animals I’ve made over the past couple of years. This might seem like a heck of a departure from skulls, bones, and other dead things. But in a way it’s really me getting back to long-neglected roots.

(One of my favorite customs I’ve done on one of my favorite molds, the Breyer semi-rearing mustang. )

See, I was a horse girl when I was a kid. Or, rather, I was a wannabe horse girl. I never got to lease or own a horse, and even now in my early 40s I’m still about the greenest rider you’ll find. (Seriously, I need one of those kid-proof horses that’s seen it all, done it all, and is probably more trail-smart than I am.) But I was obsessed with horses from a young age. It started with my very first My Little Pony that I got Christmas morning, 1983 (Applejack, if you must know), and then exploded further with a book on how to draw horses and my first Breyer model (Black Beauty 1991 on the Morganglanz mold) in my preteens. Horse actually took over for Gray Wolf for a few years as my primary animal spirit during my teens, so we have a very long history indeed.

And since I couldn’t have a real horse, I ended up collecting model horses, mostly Breyers with a few old Hartlands for variety. I had over 100 at the peak of my collecting, but I had to sell them all in my early twenties when I was between jobs. In hindsight it was probably for the best because having less stuff made it easier to get through the period of my life where I was moving about once a year, but I do miss that collection.

Back then I did my part to add to the artistic end of the model horse hobby, mostly with badly blended acrylic paint jobs and terrifying mohair manes and tails. But it made me happy, and that was the most important thing. Even though I only knew a couple other collectors in my little rural area, and my only real connection to the hobby was through the quarterly Just About Horses magazine Breyer put out, my collecting really made me happy in the same way that my first fur scraps and bones would catch my interest a few years later.

2020….well, it sucked. We all know that. Pandemic, political stress, financial roller coasters and more made it a really tough year for anyone who wasn’t wealthy enough to hide away and weather it all. And many of us found ourselves with more time at home, in need of distractions and solace. It ended up being a time where many people rediscovered their love of childhood hobbies. I’m one of those people. I’ve been slowly edging my way back in for the past few years, starting with repainting a few old Breyer models found at thrift stores, and then gaining momentum as I found that not only was I much better at customizing these models than I used to be, but I was having fun without the pressure to make a living off of it. (Yes, I love my hide and bone art, but when an art form is your bread and butter, it changes your relationship to it. But that’s a post for another time…)

So 2020 saw me really ramp up my customization efforts. I had to stop for a few months in summer and fall when I moved to a spifftacular new living space on the farm I’ve been working on the past few years (with, by the way, THE best studio space EVER!) but as the days shortened I found myself making more dedicated time to repainting and otherwise customizing models. I even started keeping a few of the models I’d bought to customize that were in better condition to create a small, but slowly growing original finish collection, and that really helped me feel like I was back in the (not actually a) saddle.*

That’s why a well-established artist of organic, pagan-influenced arts made from fur and leather and bone and feather suddenly started painting all these secondhand plastic ponies. It’s giving me that deep injection of childhood nostalgia balanced with adult skill and perspective, and it’s offered me a much-needed break from the exhausting schedule I’ve been living the past decade or so. Because suddenly, even with the time spent rearranging my income opportunities to make sure I could stay afloat, I found myself with a little time that hadn’t been scheduled to death, and when I thought about what I wanted to do with that time, I gravitated toward one of the few creative outlets in my life that was purely for fun.**

(Yes, this IS fan art of “The Last Unicorn”! I used a Breyer Stablemate rearing Arabian for the unicorn, and a Breyer Spanish fighting bull for the Red Bull. A LOT of fun to make this particular project.)

In a way having all my events canceled was one of the best things that happened to me, because it made me slow the fuck down. I no longer had several weekends a year where I had to spend weeks beforehand making art and otherwise preparing to be away from all my farm responsibilities for 4-7 days at a time, with all the packing and moving and setup and vending and teaching and teardown and going home and unpacking and exhaustion that goes with each event. I realized just how much each one was taking out of me, especially as I’ve gotten older. And I also recognized how much pressure I had been putting on myself to ALWAYS MAKE MORE STUFF FOR ETSY EVERY WEEK OR ELSE.

So the model horses are really sort of a symbol of the childhood joy I’ve managed to recapture, wresting time and energy back from my workaholic tendencies. I’ve even been thinking about what my professional life is going to look like once the pandemic eases up enough to allow events again, and whether I’ll put the same amount of time toward vending and and teaching at conventions and festivals as I used to. (There are a few favorites that I’m not going to miss for anything, so don’t worry about me dropping out entirely.) But for the first time in a very long time, I’m relearning to prioritize myself, and figuring out that maybe I don’t have to go hell-bent for leather every week, every year, in order to keep the bills paid and the critters fed.

And maybe, just maybe, it’s okay for this dead-critter-artist, pagan-nonfic-author, teacher-vendor-farmer, to indulge herself with something fun, and bet on the ponies to help her get through the tough times.

(P.S. Amid everything going on, I am back to working steadily on my next book, which I mentioned in this blog post almost a year ago. As a recap, its working title is Coyote’s Journey: Deeper Work With the Major Arcana, and it’s a deep dive into that section of the tarot using pathworkings with the animals I assigned to the major arcana of the Tarot of Bones. It’s not just a Tarot of Bones book, though; it’s a good way to get a new, nature-based angle on the majors in general, as well as hopefully gain a better understanding of yourself. My goal is to have it out later this year, self-pub of course, and at the rate I’m going it may end up being my longest book! Stay tuned, and if you want to get excerpts of the work-in-progress, become my Patron for as little as $1/month!)

*At the height of my “horse girl” phase, I had a really beat-up pony saddle I’d bought for ten bucks at a yard sale, and got a cheap saddle stand for it and put it in my room. And yes, I occasionally sat on it and pretended I was riding an actual horse. Hey, it made me happy at the time, and it was the closest I was ever going to get apart from a trail ride every few years.

**Yes, I do sell my customs. But I don’t make them on a schedule, I take commissions VERY sparingly, and I’m getting to stretch some new creative muscles, especially in the realms of sculpting and painting, so this is primarily for my enjoyment. The sales are just a side benefit.

(My ode to the forests of the Pacific Northwest, a Breyer deer repainted to resemble the Columbian black-tailed deer that frequent the farm I live on, along with hand-sculpted Amanita muscaria mushrooms, real and fake moss, and real lichens from fallen branches.)

[incorrecticonoclastsquotes]

Chrome: You know, fated sister, "not all who wander are lost." Tolkien.

Black: "Not all who work here are fucking nerds." Binoche.

Chrome, Mumbling: Well, Binoche didn't write an epic trilogy.

[khlowx]

Whumptober 2020 ! (Haikyuu!!)

Prompt list by Angsy_Cheez-it on Wattpad.

English isn’t my first language sorry if there are mistakes.

Warnings : Multiple several alternate universes - neighbors, roommates, bar/pub, stangers, aftermath of violence, assault, blood, bruises, injuries, gentleness, help, pre-poly, pre-relationship, flirt, potential death, shock...

Day 26 : Broken ribs. (Bokuto/Akaashi/Kuroo/Tsukishima)

The laughs were loud in the pub. The place was crowded like every Friday nights. Kuroo sighed as he hung up his black apron in the employees’ room. Terushima had just freed him from his night shift a few seconds ago. The clock on the wall was showing a good three in the morning. Repressing another sigh, the black-haired man waved goodbye at his friend throughout the open door and exited the establishment by the back. He shivered from the cold night and took one or two steps in the black alley that leaded to the front of the bar and to the street. His body froze before he could process what was happening. All his senses were on alert, the feeling of danger omnipresent. Then he heard it. Muffled whimpers of pain and rushed breaths. Without thinking of what could be behind the big dumpster, the rooster head trotted to the source of the noises.

There was a blond guy with glasses in a really bad shape, seated on the cold floor. His glasses were twisted and wobbling on his nose, blood was dripping from his split lip and bruises were forming almost all over the skin Tetsurou could see. He knelled besides the poor boy, startling him slightly.

“- You’re alright pal ?

- Do I look alright ? the other spat in return.

- Well no, obviously. Kuroo chuckled awkwardly. Do you want me to call an ambulance ?”

At this, the injured man shook his head vehemently. After calming him and assuring him that he would not call the emergencies, the bartender helped him to his feet. Except, that the blond wasn’t able to stand by himself. The brunette’s mind was racing. He clearly couldn’t let this dude alone on the sidewalk and his lip was still bleeding even with the tissue pressed to it for a ten minutes.

“- Come to my place, I’ll heal you.” he murmured.  

The other’s eyes shot up and he just stared at his rescuer, dumbfounded. When this latter insisted and slid a hand around his waist to support him, he winced and looked down again.

“- Yeah, okay. Thanks. the blond wheezed, suffering.

- No need to thank me, that’s normal.”

With that, they began to walk slowly, Tetsurou still helping the hurt boy. They chatted a bit on the way to the bartender’s flat. He learned that this unknown person’s name was Tsukishima Kei, he was twenty-three and had been assaulted by a hooligan whom wanted his wallet, phone and so on. He had been left with nothing, next to the pub a few seconds before the raven found him. When they finally arrived, Tsukishima was breathless, grimacing and sweating. Understandable.

“- I live on the second floor, you’re gonna be okay ? the older one asked worriedly.

- Hm, I think so.

- ‘kay, let me open the door and I’ll help you after.”

When Kei’s back touched the wall of the building, his brows furrowed. He was biting hard on his bottom lip, aggravating the bleeding. Thankfully, Kuroo retrieved him quickly like he had say.

  “- Bro ! I was starting to wonder if you had found a one night st- wow. Who’s that ? You look awful, mate. What happened ?

- Thanks. the stranger snorted at Bokuto’s question.

- Bo, that’s Tsuki. Tsuki, I present you my roommate : Bokuto Koutarou. I found him next to the pub in that state.

- It’s Tsukish-

- Man, really ? I don’t know who you annoyed, but he didn’t miss you ! That’s for sure !”

The gray-haired man whistled, analyzing his surprise guest from head to toe. Tetsurou leaded the blond to the couch where the latter sat happily. He listened barely to the discussion of the two roommates, closing his eyes tightly. He only opened them when he heard the door shut.

“- He’s going to ask our beautiful neighbor if he has some meds and stuff like that ‘cuz I totally forgot we didn’t have all of that. Kuroo explained with a smirk.

- Beautiful ? Kei repeated, skeptical.

- Breath taking. A cold beauty like an angel fallen from heaven.

- Sounds a little exaggerated in my opinion.”

The owner of the place just laughed. A few seconds later, Bokuto returned with a man that seemed to have fallen indeed, but rather from his bed than any mystic high place. Their arms were full of bands, disinfectant and other things.

“- Akaashi, long time no see !  

- Not even twenty-four hours, Kuroo-san. the aforementioned responded, deadpanned.

- You sound tired. You should sleep at night, we wouldn’t want your pretty face to be messed up with dark circles under your eyes. the rooster head flirted obviously.

- You’d always be gorgeous either way, ‘Kaashi ! Koutarou chimed in, leaving his stuff on the coffee table.

- I was sleeping until someone woke me up abruptly. the newcomer replied between gritted teeth.

- I think that’s my fault, actually. Sorry.”

Three pairs of eyes turned to Tsukishima. After the presentations had been done once again, the four men made their way to the bathroom and put themselves at work. In fact, Kei just sat on the tub and waited here. Keiji was kneeling in front of him, busy with his lip while Tetsurou was holding a pack of ice under his eye, a thing he could do himself but the other had insisted. Bokuto was against the sink, watching them attentively. The flirt went on all the time the care lasted, sometimes including the not-so-stranger-anymore.

“- Are you hurt anywhere else Tsuki ? the beefiest one of all asked when the younger got up and winced once again.

- No, I’m good.

- Are you s-

- Great ! Let’s watch a movie then ! the bartender exclaimed, applauding enthusiastically.

- At… five in the morning, really ? Akaashi yawned.

- It’s always the good time for a good movie, ‘Kaashi.” the other decreed, then winked and brought them back to the sofa.

The blond didn’t have the energy to go back to his place right now and even if he wouldn’t admit it aloud, he was enjoying the three men’s company. They had saved him after all, and they didn’t have to. Not to mention that they were quite attractive.

Koutarou opted for a Disney, not really surprising. Somehow, it made sense with his childish behavior. So they all got comfy while The Princess and the Frog was downloading. They watched it in relative silence, Akaashi stuck between the owners of the pace and Tsuki next to Kuroo. Half-way through the film, the oldest were already asleep. Bokuto was curled against Keiji’s side, drooling on his shirt, and Kuroo’s head had fallen on the youngest’s shoulder. When TV only showed a black screen, the clock was showing a quarter past seven.

“- You should sleep.

- I can’t. I have to go home, my own roommate is probably freaked out.

- Why didn’t you want to go the hospital earlier ?”

Kei was silent for a moment. It was a legit question and he felt like he owned an answer to the man that had woken up in the middle of the night to help him.  

“- My brother works there. I don’t want to see him.

- You should consider it, I saw how you seem to suffer every time you move.

- Yeah, probably.”

The blond got up, placing the Tetsurou’s head on the awake man’s shoulder.

“- What are you doing ?

- I told you already, I’m going home. Sorry for leaving you with them like that and for everything else, I guess.

- Tsukishima-

- Have a nice day, Akaashi-san. I owe you one, but a least I know where Kuroo-san works.”

He slipped out by the door after putting his shoes on and disappeared out of Keiji’s sight. This latter sighed and closed his eyes, decided to have some deserved rest finally.

A couple of days passed without any news of the injured boy they had met. Until that one night when their neighbor burst in the roommates’ apartment. He was visibly shocked and trembling. He held out his phone for the two others to check the article he was previously reading, without a word.

“- A young man found dead in the streets of Tokyo, three days ago. Koutarou read out loud.

- He seemed to have been assaulted the night before, and had been healed by someone. However, his several broken ribs perforated his lungs and he died from asphyxiation.”

Just under these few written sentences figured a picture of the dead : juvenile face, glasses and blond hair.