anyways i just love the way kpop demon hunters stayed true to its roots in korean/asian culture, especially around the core theme of community vs individualism
the fact that it's not a single chosen one but a group of three
the fact that the honmoon is not powered by the hunters themselves but by the energy and love of the fans
the fact that gwi-ma turns people into demons by promising that he is the only one who can help them when he is in fact reliant on his army of demons to collect souls for him
the fact that "your idol" is about surrendering yourself to a single higher power while "golden" is about soaring to new heights together
the fact that gwi-ma preys on people's individual insecurities and shame to get inside their heads while rumi, mira, and zoey set them free in the end by encouraging them to embrace their differences and reminding them that they're not alone
the fact that you can see the audience cheering individually and even pushing into each other to get closer to the stage during "your idol"
while they're linking arms and cheering together and hugging during "what it feels like"
i have not seen the live action lilo and stitch but it feels like that movie sits on the opposite end of the spectrum from kpop demon hunters as a case study for how to tell a story in way that is culturally authentic and still resonates with a broader audience
and i think given that the core theme of the movie is all about community over individualism, the ending, particularly as it relates to rumi and jinu's budding romance, is really the perfect culmination of that broader theme
rumi and jinu's connection has all the hallmarks of that all-encompassing, all-consuming, borderline co-dependent first love where you keep your relationship a secret and sneak out of the house to meet up and feel like the other person is the ONLY person who really gets you
i'm the only one who can understand you, i'm the only one who will love you is the kind of thing that sounds romantic when you're 16 until you get older and realize how toxic it actually is and i love that the movie counters that in "what it sounds like" with rumi realizing that she had that love and support all along from her girls, and later, from the fans who continue to cheer them on through their comeback
it's about connection and sisterhood and love and sharing your fears and lifting each other up and becoming stronger and better together
and as compelling as i found rumi/jinu and as much as i would like to see their relationship explored more in a sequel/series, i just really love that this movie, which is clearly targeted at young women, ends on the message that romantic love is not the end all be all, that friendship is just as important if not more so than a romantic partner, that single women can lead successful, fulfilling lives, that true happiness and freedom start from within
it's crazy that this message still seems revolutionary in 2025 but given the current state of the world, it feels more necessary than ever
i hate it when i cant even write a poem about something because its too obvious. like in the airbnb i was at i guess it used to be a kids room cause you could see the imprint of one little glow in the dark star that had been missed and painted over in landlord white. like that's a poem already what's the point
summary: rooster exploits having you as his emergency contact to get you away from hangman
notes: okay, i am so sorry if this is rushed but i had to get it out before i start my new job (and maybe won't have so much time to write)... i really hope y'all enjoy it!!! please let me know, i really love all kinds of feedback! (p.s. this is also super lame and cheesy but that’s just my genre now)
warnings: swearing, very poor us navy knowledge (i literally just do some very brief googling), very minor and probably inaccurate medical descriptions, text chat screenshots, use of y/n (which is a warning now?), and a kind of rushed ending
word count: 9129
“Damn.” You stop just before stepping into the sun, tipping your head forward so you can see over the frame of your sunglasses. “I should come here more often.”
Fighter jets line the tarmac in two neat rows, and in the middle under the shade of one of the jets are your friends, the dagger squad. They’re all on the ground, half of them in a sit up position and the other half doing push ups. All looking absolutely fine.
Maverick is talking to someone a little off to your right, but you’re more than happy to wait for him while you ogle the pilots performing their punishments. Hondo is standing over the seven of them, counting repetitions loudly and correcting their forms.
“Hey,” Maverick calls, his voice echoing into the hangar.
You turn to see him tuck his helmet under one arm as he walks quickly toward you. “Hey Mav.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I had a day off, so I thought I’d finally get my pre-enrolment sorted out for my DBIDS card.” You hold up the ID badge hanging on a lanyard around your neck. “You’re my sponsor, by the way.”
He frowns. “Aren’t I supposed to be escorting you, then?”
You hike your thumb over your shoulder toward where you’d entered the hangar. “Warlock vouched for me and said he’d get you to take me back to the VCC and sign everything then.”
Maverick glances passed you, giving a short wave to the rear admiral who had stopped to talk to a couple of other officers. “Well then, I better wrap this lot up,” he says. “Are you alright to wait a bit?”
You nod, letting your lips curl into a smirk as your eyes slide back over to the squad. “I am more than happy to wait.”
His gaze follows yours and he chuckles. “They’ll start showing off if they know you’re here. Why don’t you come over and say hello?”
You push the bridge of your sunglasses further up your nose. “I would love to.”
Mav leads the way to the squad, into the sun and across the hot tarmac. It’s unusually warm today, and you can feel your skin start to perspire after only a few steps out from under the hangar’s shade. Or maybe you’re just starting to sweat because of the scene you’re approaching.
You’ve never seen the squad in their flight suits before. You’ve seen pictures and videos, but you’ve never seen them in person. On a hot day. Half unzipped and tied around their waists. As they drip with sweat.
Your eyes find Bradley’s head of tousled golden-brown locks immediately, and your heartrate ratchets up a few notches, your breath catching in your throat. He’s doing push ups, his dog tags touching the concrete on every dip and his back muscles rippling under the black material of his shirt clinging to his sweat-soaked skin.
Your knees almost wobble when you stop beside Maverick, and Jake is the first to notice you as he comes up for his next sit up. “Hey gorgeous,” he calls out, that signature smirk plastered across his flushed face.
“Hey.” You let your eyes wander over the rest of the group before settling back on Bradley. Your sunglasses slide a little further down your nose and you suck your bottom lip between your teeth, biting down hard to try and distract yourself from the way Bradley’s biceps are bulging and straining.
When he glances up at you, your head spins. His face is flushed and his brows furrowed, but there’s still a small smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. “Hey sweetheart.”
“Eyes down, Rooster,” Hondo barks.
Bradley’s head snaps back down, but the next push up he does seems a little firmer and a little lower. Your mouth waters as you trace the outline of his broad shoulders, letting your gaze slide down his back to his butt, lingering there as his muscular body moves up and down.
“Phoenix, you’re done,” Hondo announces, startling you out of your trance.
Natasha lets out a whoosh of air as she finishes her sit ups and falls back against the concrete. She shields her eyes with one hand, squinting toward you and waving her other hand in the air.
You wave back just as Hondo announces, “Hangman, Coyote, you’re done.”
Javy falls back the same way Natasha had, his hands holding his abdomen as he works on catching his breath, but Jake doesn’t stop. He maintains perfect form as he sinks back and sits up, winking at you before lowering himself back again.
Natasha scoffs. “Show off.”
Maverick catches your eye and smirks before taking half a step forward. “What’s your goal here, Hangman? Are you trying to hurt yourself?”
“No sir,” Jake replies, his expression full of steely focus. “Just trying to impress the lady and outlast these chumps.”
Mickey chuckles as he lowers himself into another push up. “Since when is Y/N a lady?”
“Hey!” you exclaim.
Laughter rolls through the squad, and even Hondo cracks a smile as he says, “Bob, you’re done.”
Bob finishes his sit ups with a sigh and wraps his arms around his knees, chuckling softly through his ragged breaths.
You look at Maverick, tipping your chin in Mickey’s direction. “Can I sit on him?”
Mav chuckles. “As much as I'd love to see that, not with Warlock standing twenty feet away.”
You roll your eyes and sigh, turning back to face the group.
“You can sit on me,” Jake says as he rises into another sit up. He lowers himself back with a shit-eating grin before sitting up again. “Later tonight.”
Javy, Mickey, and Reuben snicker as Natasha rolls her eyes, but Bradley stays silent. You can see little droplets of sweat soaking into the concrete below him, and your first thought is ‘what a waste’. Great, you’re officially creepy enough to want to drink his sweat.
“Alright,” Hondo says. “That’s enough, the lot of you.”
Mickey and Reuben groan as they sit back on their haunches and turn their heads up to the sky, breathing in the warm afternoon air, but Bradley keeps going.
“Rooster, Hangman, that’s enough,” Mav says, his voice stern despite the smirk on his lips.
“I can last as long as you can, Bradshaw,” Jake taunts.
Bradley lets out a harsh breath as he pushes himself up again. “That’s not what I’ve heard, Seresin.”
A chorus of ooh’s fills the air as the rest of the squad watch the two stubborn boys, eyes bouncing between them. You have to keep reminding yourself to look over at Jake, to not make it so obvious that half the reason you’re here is to drool over Bradley.
“Come on, boys,” Maverick sighs. “That’s enough.”
Neither of them let up, and Hondo chuckles to himself as he strolls into the hangar.
Maverick clears his throat. “Lieutenant Bradshaw, Lieutenant Seresin, that is enough.”
They both stop and quickly get to their feet, their faces red and glistening with sweat. You can’t help but wonder if that’s what Bradley would look like after a good few hours of sex. You definitely plan on finding out one day, if you can ever find the courage to make a move.
“No debrief this afternoon,” Maverick announces. “So, unless anyone has anyone questions, you’re all dismissed.”
Bob quickly pipes up with a question about one of the exercises they performed earlier in the day, but you can barely hear the discussion between him and Maverick. Your eyes are all over Bradley, because seeing him in his flight suit is doing something to you, something more than usual. He’s standing wide, those big black boots planted further than shoulder-width apart, making his legs look even longer and more powerful than usual. His arms are crossed, his biceps straining against the black fabric of his sweat-soaked shirt. It’s clinging to every inch of his muscled torso, tucked into the flight suit that is tied around his waist. The gold in his hair is shining beneath the hot sun, his tan skin is glowing with sweat, and his slutty sunglasses are perched a little too low on his nose. This man is walking sex, and it’s becoming a health hazard because you’re pretty sure you’ve forgotten how to breathe.
A voice suddenly breaks through your Bradley-induced trance. “Is that okay?”
You blink a couple of times, refocusing on Maverick who is now standing between you and the squad with his eyebrows raised in question. “Is what okay?”
He rolls his eyes, lips quirked into a small but knowing smirk. “I’m just going to have a quick shower before taking you back to the VCC. Is that okay?”
You nod. “Yeah, of course.”
“Good.” He claps a hand on your shoulder. “You go ahead and get back to that daydream. By the look on your face, it was getting good.”
You scowl at him as he chuckles and walks away, heading in the same direction that Reuben and Mickey are walking. The rest of the squad are still standing in front of you, chatting about something that you assume came up from Bob’s earlier query.
Jake breaks away from the group, stepping toward you with a wide grin. “What brings you out here, gorgeous?”
“Getting my pre-enrolment sorted out,” you reply.
“For a DBIDS card?”
You nod.
“Why do you need to be able to visit unchaperoned?” he asks, that usual cocky glint making his green eyes sparkle. “I’ll gladly be your chaperone whenever you want to visit.”
You roll your eyes playfully. “As much as I would love to be personally escorted by you, Hangman, I thought it would be smart in case I ever need to enact my emergency contact duties.”
He frowns. “Who’s emergency contact are you?”
“That would be me,” Bradley says, slinging an arm around your shoulders.
You bite your bottom lip to keep from smiling so wide as you look up at him, but you know your bright red cheeks are already giving you away.
“I thought your emergency contact was Mav?” Jake asks.
“He was,” Bradley replies. “But then I thought that if I’m ever in an emergency situation, there’s probably a good chance that Mav is in that situation with me.”
Jake nods. “Yeah, that sounds about right.” A beat of silence passes before he turns his attention back to you, that flirty smirk reappearing as he claps his hands together. “Anyway, are we all set for tomorrow?”
“Yep,” you respond. “Are you still sure you want to spend your day off helping me?”
“Of course. Any day with you is a day well spent, whether it involves manual labour or not.”
You asked Jake a few weeks ago to help with the delivery and assembly of your new bedframe and mattress and getting rid of your old stuff, since the last time you did it on your own you nearly ended up in the hospital with a slipped disc. Normally, you would ask Bradley for help with this kind of thing, but your crush has been so stifling the last couple of months that you know it would be counterproductive to have Bradley sweating and moving heavy things in your bedroom. Besides, Jake happens to have the day off because he’s owed an RDO, and he insists that he doesn’t mind helping you out. It’s a win-win situation; you get a new bed, and no one ends up in the hospital with a broken back. Not that you would mind if Bradley broke your back.
“What’s tomorrow?” Bradley asks, his brows pinched into a frown.
“I’m helping her in bed,” Jake replies quickly, his grin downright evil. “I mean, with her bed.”
You roll your eyes at Jake again, before looking up at Bradley. “I’m getting a new bedframe and mattress, remember?”
“Right,” he says, brows still furrowed. “I thought I told you I’d help you with that?”
The way he’s looking down at you is making the butterflies in your stomach riot. He looks like a scolded puppy, wondering what he did wrong to deserve this punishment.
“You did, but Jake has the day off and you’ve already done enough slave labour for me.”
“But I like being your slave,” he says, the corner of his lips tipping up slightly.
It takes all your strength not to groan out loud. He is not making this easy.
“And you will always be my favourite slave, Bradley.” You pat a hand on his chest. “Which is why I need to give you a break every now and then.”
You pull your hand away quickly, immediately regretting the fact that you just felt up his firm chest and damp shirt, because now you’re getting that familiar ache behind your hipbones. The ache that only your vibrator and fantasies of Bradley can satiate, but even that hasn’t been enough lately. You need the real thing.
The sound of your name echoing through the hangar draws your attention, and you look over your shoulder to see Maverick with spikey, wet hair waving you toward him.
“That’s my cue.” You turn back to Jake. “I’ll see you tomorrow, and you”- you look up at Bradley -“on the weekend.”
When you slide out from under Bradley’s arm, it suddenly feels like this very hot day has turned cold. It takes all your strength to keep your feet moving one after the other away from him. You’ve had a crush on Bradley Bradshaw from the moment you first met him, but it’s called a ‘crush’ for a reason, because now it is crushing you. He’s the first thing on your mind when you wake up, and the last name on your lips before you fall asleep.
“Are you alright?” Maverick asks once you reach him, and you know it’s because your cheeks are bright red.
“Yeah, just a bit hot out here.”
He nods as you both start walking toward the door. “It’s supposed to be even hotter tomorrow.”
Back at the Visitor Control Centre, Maverick signs everything he needs to in order to grant you unchaperoned access to the base. After that, he walks you to your car and bids you farewell. You’re more than grateful for your car’s aircon as you take a moment to collect your thoughts, the ones that are running wild with fantasies about Bradley in that damn flight suit.
Eventually, you make your way home and immediately hole yourself up in your room. You spend over an hour in there to trying to satisfy that ache below your belly, but the incessant messages from the group chat popping up on your phone screen make it difficult. Only when your stomach starts to grumble do you give up and head into the kitchen, reading through the messages you’d been trying to ignore.
You hit send on your last message and smack your phone face down on the kitchen counter. Your cheeks are red and your heart is racing, and you’re not hungry anymore because your stomach has twisted itself into one big nervous knot.
You know that whatever it is between you and Bradley is no secret. You assume it’s because you drunkenly confessed to Bob, Mickey, and Natasha one night that you had a huge crush on him, and since then the rest have seemingly caught on. You don’t mind the teasing – at least, you didn’t at first, but it’s becoming more frequent and making you more nervous. Bradley rarely interacts with it, and all you do is tell them to shut up or butt out. You can’t figure out if they’re simply teasing because they can, or if they actually see something between the two of you that is real.
There have been a couple of times when you’ve wondered if Bradley might feel the same way. You even almost made a move once, before chickening out and refusing to look him in the eye for two weeks straight. You know you’re being a little bitch about it, and you hate yourself every day for being like one of those characters in your romance books that pines and pines, despite their broody love interest being obviously smitten. But you still can’t stop yourself from being a chicken. You justify it by telling yourself that it's to protect your friendship and the group’s comfortable dynamic, but you know that deep down, you’re scared. You’re scared that Bradley only wants that one thing, while you’re nothing short of hopelessly in love with the man.
-
You wake up to the sound of your phone vibrating on your bedside table. You know it’s too early for your alarm and way too early for the delivery driver to be calling you, so you’re not surprised when you see Jake’s goofy contact photo lighting up your phone screen.
“Good morning, Hangman,” you say groggily.
“Good morning, gorgeous,” he replies cheerfully. “Did I wake you up?”
You sigh and roll onto your back. “Yes.”
He chuckles. “Oops. How’s about I make it up to you with breakfast?”
You sit up quickly. “You’re already on your way here?”
“Of course.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” you mutter, throwing your bed covers back.
“Just the usual?” he asks.
“Make it a double shot.”
You toss your phone onto your bed before hurrying into your ensuite, quickly stripping down as the shower heats up. You brush your teeth in the shower and scrub everything as quickly as you can before wrapping yourself in a towel and starting to pull all the bedding off your mattress. Just as you’ve finished shoving it all into your already overflowing hamper, your apartment intercom buzzes.
You hitch your towel higher as you step out of your room and press the button on the intercom to unlock the lobby door. There’s an affirmative beep and a click, and then you walk toward the front door and double check that your towel is covering you.
As soon as you hear footsteps, you pull the door open with a scowl. “Since when did I tell you to get here at the ass crack of dawn?”
His green eyes widen as he takes you in, that signature smirk painting his features. “I thought it would be good to get an early start, but this”- he nods at you -“is an unexpected bonus.”
You roll your eyes and step aside, allowing him in. He stops at your kitchen bench and places the cup tray of two coffees down alongside a paper bag filled with deliciously greasy smelling breakfast.
“Give me five minutes,” you say, before walking back into your bedroom.
You quickly change into a pair of exercise tights and an oversized shirt – one that you’re not sure even belongs to you – before fixing your hair and doing a very quick version of your morning skincare routine. When you reemerge into the main area of your open-plan apartment, Jake is seated on the lounge with your breakfast laid out across the coffee table.
You flop beside him and take a hashbrown. “So, what’s the plan?”
He turns to you with a frown. “Why do I have to come up with a plan?”
“I wouldn’t need your help if I had a plan, would I?”
He chuckles softly. “I guess not.”
You spend the next five minutes inhaling your breakfast while Jake asks a few logistical questions. Once you're both finished eating and quietly sipping on your coffees, he pushes himself off the lounge and walks toward your bedroom.
He pauses at the door. “Can I go in?”
You nod, and the door squeaks as he nudges it open. He takes one step in and stops, cocking his head thoughtfully before continuing in. He assesses the area and walks further in, at which point you decide to join him. He’s standing on the opposite side of your bed when you get there, and he’s wearing the type of shit-eating grin that you know comes with some sort of teasing or offensive remark.
“So,” he says, “this is where you touch yourself and fantasise about Rooster every night.”
Your stomach drops and you splutter against the lid of your coffee cup, spraying half a mouthful of it across the room. You can feel your face turning red as you cough, but you know it isn’t just the lack of oxygen to blame.
Jake gasps, laughter bubbling from his lips as he rushes around the bed to you. “I’m so sorry,” he says between giggles. “Are you okay?”
You continue to cough, holding a hand against your chest as you try to blink back the tears in your eyes. It takes almost a minute for you to compose yourself, but Jake takes even longer to quell his laughter.
He sighs loudly and wipes the corner of his eye while you turn to him with a scowl. “Who told you?”
He bats his eyes innocently. “Told me what?”
You hesitate, your eyes narrowed as your mind races to send the right words to your lips. “That I might have a small crush on Rooster.”
He snorts a laugh. “No one had to tell me anything. Any idiot who spends enough time with the two of you can clearly see that you’re obsessed with each other.”
“What? No.” Your frown indignantly. “That’s ridiculous.”
“Please.” He rolls his eyes, still chuckling. “I can practically see you cataloguing your spank bank every time you stare at him.”
Your eyes grow wide and your skin burns. You have to look away from him to stop yourself from smacking that smug smile right off his face.
“You know what,” you say, sparing him only a glance. “I don’t think I want to have this conversation with you, so can we please get back to the bed.”
He sighs wistfully. “If only Rooster heard you say that to me. He’d be ropable.”
You roll your eyes and take another sip from your coffee, ready to turn away from him when realisation hits you. “Wait. Is that why you’re always flirting with me, just to piss off Bradley?”
He shrugs, but his smile is sheepish. “I flirt with you because you’re gorgeous, but annoying Rooster is a small plus.”
“You are unbelievable.” You turn on your heel and walk back out of your room, finding your phone on the couch to check if there are any updates on the delivery of your new furniture.
“Hang on a minute.” He follows you into the living space. “I could help you, you know?”
You scoff. “With what? Moving my new bed in? Because that is why you’re here. Not to make me feel shitty about some stupid, unrequited crush that is apparently pretty fucking obvious.”
He rolls his lips to hold back another laugh. “I could help you make a move,” he clarifies. “Because I’ll tell you this, it is not unrequited. Rooster is as crazy about you, as you are him.”
Your heart stutters, but your walls stay up. “How do you know?”
“Just believe me,” he says. “That man’s right forearm is thicker than his left because of you.”
You frown and cock your head, processing his words until the meaning hits you and your mouth pops open.
“Anyway.” He claps his hands and rubs his palms together. “Let’s get this old mattress out of here and start pulling apart the bedframe. I’ll give you some advice while we work.”
For the next few hours, you let Jake tell you what to do. You hold things, you move furniture, you unscrew things, and you listen to his surprisingly sound advice on what to do about Bradley. The more he speaks, the more confident you feel, because something about Jake’s charisma is infectious. You know you might not feel the same when face to face with Bradley’s big brown eyes and pretty smile, but it at least feels good to talk to someone about it. Even if that someone gags every time you start swooning.
- Bradley -
Today is hot, almost too hot. Bradley has pushed his body to the limit before, it’s basically in his job description, but today feels different. He feels sick. His flight suit is too heavy and his muscles are shaking. His stomach is twisting and gurgling with every sharp move, and his head is spinning.
Bradley is only in the sky – flying like a rookie – for an hour before Maverick grounds him, giving him a brutal workout to do while the rest of the squad finish their drills. Even Hondo has taken shelter in the hangar, watching Bradley complete his exercises from afar with a damp towel wrapped around the back of his neck.
The concrete is hot, and Bradley is pretty sure he’s getting second-degree burns on his palms as he pushes himself up into his twenty-fourth burpee. His flight suit is tied around his waist, and he can feel an excess of sweat gathering in the bunched-up material there. His dog tags are jingling as he jumps up and down, occasionally smacking him in the face when his moves are too jerky.
“That’s enough,” Hondo calls out. “Have a break. Drink some water.”
Bradley stops and swipes the back of his hand across his forehead. He can see the squad getting ready to land now, so it must be time for lunch. He waits for them inside the hangar, his heart beating loudly in his chest even after twenty minutes of standing still. Eventually, the group stroll in and head toward the lockers, grabbing their personal items before going to the mess hall.
Bradley finds a seat while everyone else continues to get food. He’s not sure his stomach can handle anything right now, even his water bottle remains untouched. He pulls his phone out and brings up the group chat that has five new messages.
His insides twist at the sight of Jake in your apartment. It’s not like he hasn’t been there before, but he’s never been there alone with you. Bradley clamps his teeth together and wills that sick feeling in his gut to fuck off. This isn’t the time nor the place to vomit about the fact that the girl he likes is spending the day with one of the most charming men he knows.
“You look pale,” Bob says as he puts his tray down on the table.
“But also kind of red,” Natasha adds, a frown pinching her brows. “You look like you’re trying not to hurl.”
Bradley swallows hard and sits up straighter. “I’m fine, just a little wrung out from the heat.”
The rest of the squad join the table and conversation flows easily. A couple of them reply to you in the group chat, but Bradley doesn’t want to know anything else about what’s going on, so he lets his phone buzz face down on the table. He stares straight ahead at the space between Bob and Natasha’s heads, zoning out and imagining a much worse scenario than what is actually happening at your apartment.
He pictures you both sweating and giggling together, bumping into each other as you move and assemble furniture. Then he sees you both on the new mattress, flopping down exhaustedly after finally sliding it onto the new bedframe. You’d stop giggling with a sigh before turning to face one another, locking eyes, expressions turning serious as Jake’s hand comes up to caress your cheek. You would roll onto your side to get closer to him, and he’d only have to move an inch toward you to press his lips against yours. That kiss would unlock something in you, igniting your attraction to this man and making you climb on top of him. Clothes would be torn off, teeth and tongues clashing, and the bed would quickly be broken in.
“Rooster.” Natasha snaps her fingers in front of Bradley’s face.
He blinks a couple of times before refocusing on the woman in front of him. “Huh?”
“Jesus Christ, dude,” she says. “What is wrong with you today?”
Bradley looks to his left and right before spotting the rest of the squad making their way out of the mess hall. He jumps up from his chair. “Shit, that went quick.”
“Well, you were off with the fairies the whole time.”
He tries not to look her in the eye despite her intense stare. The journey back to the hangar is silent, but he can tell Natasha is studying him, scrutinising his expression until they both approach the rest of the group waiting with Maverick.
Mav takes the floor and announces that today is the perfect day to test limits. He starts explaining the workout that he has planned for the squad, because they may have to face extreme heat on their next assignment, and it’s important to be prepared. Everyone groans in protest, even Hondo, but Mav ignores it. He’s almost excited to torture his lieutenants.
An hour later, everyone is absolutely dripping with sweat. All flight suits are at least half off, some discarded entirely as the squad run, jump, and swerve through the makeshift fitness course Mav set up. It feels more like torture than conditioning, but no one has the energy to even speak up.
“Alright,” Mav calls out. “That’s enough. Take a break, have some water, then come inside and take a seat.”
They all slowly drag themselves toward Hondo, who is handing out towels and cold bottles of water. None of them can muster a single word, they all just huff and puff and groan when they wipe their skin with the wet towels. Bradley is the last to approach Hondo, his gaze fixed on the outstretched water bottle as he wonders when the last time it was that he had a drink.
“Rooster.” Hondo takes a step toward the lieutenant. “Are you alright?”
Bradley blinks slowly, looking up as one Hondo turns into two. His surroundings blur and his limbs start to tingle. His head feels heavy and his stomach sinks, his eyes fluttering shut as his body goes limp.
- You -
“Harder,” Jake grunts. “Push harder.”
You let out a puff of air before tensing your muscles and shoving as hard as you can. The mattress slides along the carpet slowly, making your blood boil with frustration. “Why is this thing so fucking heavy?”
Jake chuckles. “I just assumed you bought an extra sturdy one so you and Rooster can fuck as hard as- woah!”
You push with all your strength, sliding the mattress into an unsuspecting Jake. He laughs as he rights himself and guides the mattress further into your room.
“If I knew that annoying you would give you super strength, I would have started earlier,” he says, leaning around the mattress to show you his cheeky grin.
You roll your eyes. “You’ve been annoying me all day.”
“It’s called bonding.”
“Whatever, just get this thing on the frame.”
After a short argument on how you should manoeuvre the mattress, and a string of cuss words as you heave the thing into place, you finally manage to get the mattress sitting snuggly on the new bedframe. You both fall onto it immediately, facing the ceiling as you work to catch your breath.
“Fuck me,” you sigh.
Jake snorts. “I would, but I think Rooster might flay me alive.”
You roll your eyes for the umpteenth time today. “I wasn’t offering, and I’m still on the fence about believing you, so stop it with the constant remarks.”
He rolls onto his stomach, a shit-eating grin plastered across his face. “Then let’s have sex and see what happens?”
You huff out a half-assed laugh as you sit up. “Like I said, Hangman; I wasn’t offering.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right. We shouldn’t play with Rooster’s feelings like that.” He rolls onto his back again and blinks slowly at the ceiling.
It makes you feel better to see a small sign of exhaustion from him, because for most of the day, you’ve been wrecked while Jake has been running off some sort of endless energy reserve. He’s like the human personification of a border collie, a little too keen and full of bounce, and you can definitely see him tearing the lounge apart if he’s bored and locked inside.
You open your mouth to tell him how he reminds you of a herding dog when the sound of your phone’s ringtone cuts you off. You frown, wondering who it could be as you rush out of your room to get it off the kitchen bench.
“Hello?”
“Hi, is this Y/N?”
“Yes.”
“My name is Mariam. I’m calling from the Primary Health Clinic on North Island Naval Air Station. I need to speak with about Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw.”
Your stomach sinks so fast and so hard, you feel like it might have fallen right out of your arse. “Is he okay?”
“He’s in our care this afternoon due to a minor incident, and while he’s doing just fine, we cannot permit him to drive himself home. Would you be able to come pick him up?”
You rush over to the coffee table and pick up your car keys. “Of course.”
“That’s great,” the woman replies, her tone calm and even. “I’ll text our address to this number. Do you require any further assistance locating the clinic?”
“No, that should be fine.” You prop your sunglasses on top of your head. “Thank you.”
“Not a problem. We’ll see you soon.”
You pull the phone away from your ear as you hurry back into your room. Jake is sitting up now, his brows furrowed and eyes wide with curiosity. “What happened?”
“I don’t know. Something happened to Bradley and now he’s at some health clinic or something.” You’re not surprised by the panic in your voice, if only a little embarrassed. The woman said he’s fine. The last thing you need to do right now is panic.
Jake stands up and rounds the bed quickly, putting a hand on each of your shoulders. “Don’t freak out, I’m sure he’s okay. He’s at the clinic, not the hospital, so he’s probably just tripped on his own shoelaces or something.”
You let out a breathy laugh as you search Jake’s face for any hint of worry. He doesn’t seem concerned, so you let yourself relax and picture Bradley sitting sheepishly in a hospital bed with nothing more than a papercut.
“They said he can’t drive, so I have to go pick him up.”
Jake nods. “You go. I’ll stay here and clean up.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. Go get your damsel in distress.”
You hesitate for a second before throwing your arms around his neck and hugging him. “Thank you.”
He hugs you back with a chuckle before you pull away and practically run out of your apartment. You don’t slow down for anything; you even take the stairs instead of the elevator because you can’t stand still for even a second. You try not to drive like a maniac, but it’s hard not to as your mind swirls with the possibilities of Bradley’s accident.
In less than fifteen minutes, you’re flashing your identification at the front gate and waiting impatiently for them to raise the boom gate. You swerve into the visitor’s parking lot and jump out of your car, legging it toward the health clinic where your phone’s map tells you to go. It only takes a few minutes for you to get there, and you stop a few feet from the door, taking a moment to control your breathing.
The air is thick and the sun blistering. You’re sweating more than you have all day, since you've spent most of the day inside your airconditioned apartment. If Bradley isn’t really hurt, you’re going to actually hurt him for making you worry this much and run in this heat.
Once your breathing feels more regular, you grab the stainless-steel handle and push the door open. The small reception space is painted blue and white, with a couple of plastic chairs on one side and a magazine rack beside a water bubbler on the other. The blonde woman behind the desk peeks up at you through the Perspex shield surrounding her space.
“Good afternoon.”
“Hi.” You step forward. “I got a call about Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw.”
To the right of her desk is a hallway leading further into the building. Voices and footsteps echo off the blue walls, and despite the desolate reception area, it seems like the rest of the clinic is rather busy.
“Yes, that was me.” She smiles. “I’ll just get you to fill this out so we can start his discharge, then I’ll take you through.”
You take the clipboard from her and sit in one of the plastic chairs. You barely read the form, skimming quickly over it before answering the few questions and signing your name at the bottom. After you hand it back it to her, you walk over to the water bubbler and fill up a small plastic cup. You drain it three times before she waves you over and starts walking down the hall.
The noises get louder the further you delve into the building, and you quickly realise that this place is something of a mini hospital for minor emergencies to help keep the actual ER from being overrun. The hallway eventually opens up into a larger waiting area with lemon-coloured walls and bigger chairs occupied by sickly officers. One of them is holding a bloody gauze pressed to the palm of his hand, and two others are paper white and dripping with sweat.
“Heatstroke,” the blonde woman says over her shoulder. “We’ve had so many of them today, but your husband was by far the worst.”
You choke on your breath and trip on nothing as you follow her. “M-My what?”
“Oh, sorry.” She turns to her left at the end of the hall. “I just saw you were listed as Lieutenant Bradshaw’s ‘partner’ and assumed. It’s force of habit. I forget that a lot of couples don’t bother with marriage these days.”
Your mind struggles to catch up, half of it rejoicing about the fact that someone thinks Bradley is your husband, and the other half wondering why the fuck he would list you as his partner. Before you can come up with the words to correct the woman, she stops.
“Just in here.” She pushes the door open a small way. “I’ll get his papers sorted and let you know as soon as he can leave.”
You nod, still speechless, and she walks away. You stand still for a moment, your hand on the door and heart racing as you take one deep breath and push.
The room is small, with powder blue walls and the same white linoleum as the rest of the clinic. There’s a stool and tall portable desk in one corner, and one of those plastic waiting room chairs in the other. In the middle of the room is a hospital bed, but there’s no guard rails or bedding, and it's folded up so the sheepish lieutenant occupying it is sitting up straight.
“Hey,” you say, your lips twitching as you hold back a smirk.
He’s hooked up to an intravenous device that has a long tube connected to a bag of clear liquid. His face is flushed and the hair at his neck damp, but otherwise, he looks just as delicious as usual.
“Hi,” he murmurs.
You close the door behind you before approaching the bed. “How are you?”
He shuffles on the crinkly mattress, making room for you to sit. “Never been better.”
"Want to tell me what happened?” you ask as you sit at the foot of the bed.
He rubs the back of his neck, the pink in his cheeks deepening. “Well, it’s hot day, and I forgot to drink water, so I passed out.”
You lose the battle with your maturity and let out a soft laugh. Something about Bradley looking so defeated in a hospital bed amuses you more than it should. That combined with the relief that he isn’t seriously hurt means that you can’t control the elated laughter forcing its way through your lips.
You cover your mouth to try and stop the noise. “I’m sorry,” you murmur. “I was just really worried and now I’m really relieved.”
He rolls his eyes despite the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I’m glad my stupidity amuses you.”
“Do the others have a video of you fainting?”
He nudges your thigh with his socked foot. “Even if they do, you’re not seeing it.”
You laugh quietly for another minute, letting your eyes roam is perfectly healthy and incredibly firm body until it sinks in that he is okay. “I’m glad you’re not seriously hurt.”
“Me too. That would have been embarrassing.”
Your mouth pops open to ask him another question, but the thought is quickly usurped by another. The front reception area had been completely empty despite the fact that there are other patients here. You’re the only civilian here, the only emergency contact for an injured officer, and the injured officer in front of you is looking a hell of a lot better than some of the others you’d walked past.
Your brows furrow in confusion. “Did you ask them to call your emergency contact?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, where are the others?” you ask. “Why don’t the guys out there have their parents or partners here to pick them up?”
He shrugs. “They’re probably going to get patched up and sent back to their squads.”
“Exactly.” You narrow your eyes at him. “So, why am I here?”
He shifts nervously, the mattress crinkling beneath his weight. “They said I can’t drive myself home.”
“And you didn’t think to ask one of the other six friends you have that are already on base to drive you home?”
His lips part but no words come out. You can see him struggling, wracking his brain for any sort of excuse, but the longer it takes, the surer you are of the answer to your next question.
“Bradley.”
He looks at you and rolls his lips, his skin turning pink from the base of his neck to the tips of his ears.
“Did you tell them to call me so I wouldn’t be alone with Hangman anymore?”
His eyes widen and his mouth pops open, but so does the door to the room. The same blonde woman as before walks in with a nurse close behind.
“Alright, Lieutenant Bradshaw,” she says, clipboard in hand. “You’re just about free to go.”
You quickly hop off the bed as the nurse approaches, pressing yourself against the wall while she removes Bradley’s IV and check his temperature one last time. She gives him what you assume is not the first lecture about staying safe in the heat before declaring him well enough for discharge. The blonde woman then steps forward and asks him to sign a few forms on her clipboard.
“Is that everything?” he asks.
“Almost.” She takes the clipboard from him and flips to the last form before turning to you. “I just need one more signature from you.”
You nod and take the outstretched pen. “Just here?”
“Yep. Just under your name,” she says, before giggling.
You pause mid-signature, turning to her curiously. Her smile vanishes instantly, and she takes half a step back, holding a hand over her mouth, looking thoroughly embarrassed.
“Oh, I’m so sorry. That was so unprofessional,” she says. “It’s been a long day, and I just remembered that when he was brought in, he kept mumbling your name. I wasn’t laughing at you, I promise. I honestly thought it was really sweet.”
Bradley – who is now sitting on the edge of the bed – groans and drops his head into his hands. You have to press your lips together to suppress your laughter, but you can already feel it rattling in your chest. You sign your name quickly and hand the forms back to the woman, who apologises again before exiting the room.
Silence hangs thick and heavy between the two of you as Bradley laces his boots. You don’t speak, you’re not sure you can, so you simply watch him gather his things from across the room. When he’s finished, he finally looks at you with raised brows and flushed cheeks.
“Ready?”
You nod once, pressing your lips together to keep the giggles at bay. He turns toward the door, and you can swear you see his lips tip up into a smirk, but he walks too quickly into the corridor for you to be sure.
You follow him through the building, not the same way you had come in, but out through a different entrance that you assume is for bringing in the injured officers. The heat hits you the second you step out of the building, and you almost choke on the hot air, but you don’t have time to hesitate because Bradley is already forging across the small parking lot.
He glances over his shoulder, but his eyes don’t quite meet yours. “Where did you park?”
“The visitor’s parking near the front gate,” you reply.
He slows his steps and falls into pace beside you. His mouth pops open as a thought flashes across his face, but he closes it just as quickly, rolling his lips and getting lost in his thoughts again.
You decide to help him out. “Do you want to talk about it?”
He clears his throat, keeping his gaze fixed ahead. “Talk about what?”
“Oh, Bradley,” you sigh, a smirk on your lips. “There are so many things to talk about, but I thought I’d be polite and let you choose.”
His resolve cracks and a smile splits across his face. His cheeks are still bright red, and thanks to the blistering sun, every inch of his exposed skin is covered in a thin sheen of sweat. You can’t help but watch the column of his throat as he chuckles, his Adam’s apple moving in the most delicious way. It’s probably not healthy how attracted you are to this man.
“I’d barely been awake for five minutes when they asked me who they should call,” he says. “I was still a little out of it.”
“Right.” You nod slowly. “And because you’d just been dreaming about me, I was the first thing that popped into your head.”
He sighs and tips his head back, squinting up at the clear blue sky. “This has to be the most embarrassing day of my life.”
You bite your lip to hold back more laughter, almost stumbling as you come to a halt at the curb. Instinctively, Bradley grabs your hand and laces his fingers with yours, keeping you steady as he checks the street each way for traffic. Little sparks of lightning rocket up your forearm and across your chest, zapping your heart and kicking it into overdrive.
You let him guide you across the street, expecting him to let go once you’re safely on the other side, but he doesn’t. The butterflies in your stomach flap to life, but you refuse to let your nerves get the better of you. You have too many questions you need answered right now.
You clear your throat, peaking up at him from the corner of your eye. “So, just so we’re clear, calling me had nothing to do with getting me away from Hangman?”
He keeps his gaze fixed ahead. “Of course not.”
“Okay, that’s good.”
You resist the urge to smile as you wait for him to take the bait. It takes a few minutes, and you’ve reached your car by the time you notice his brows scrunch into a frown.
“Wait, what do you mean that’s good?”
You walk around the front of the car toward the driver’s side. “I don’t know, I just felt different today. You know? Like, being alone with Jake was nice.”
His frown turns into a scowl. “It’s Jake now?”
You roll your eyes, being careful not to appear too amused as you play with fire. “Yes, and Jake is really sweet. He’s funny too, and really smart and… well, he’s hot.”
Bradley takes half a step back from the passenger door. “So, you like Hangman now?”
You shrug. “I guess.”
His eyes flick down to his boots, his mouth popping open as if he’s going to argue, but no words come out. His lips clamp shut and the muscles in his jaw jump as he clenches his teeth.
“Do you have a problem with that?” you ask, batting your eyelashes innocently.
When he looks back up, his glare is lethal. The warm honey-brown eyes you often love to stare into are almost completely black beneath his furrowed brows. “Do I have a problem with that?”
You roll your lips and nod, keeping your eyes as wide and innocent as you can while watching him take long strides around the front of the car. Your heart thunders in your chest, making your pulse thump loudly in your ears as he walks right up to you.
He towers over you, his body barely inches from yours. “You know damn well I have a problem with that.”
You look up at him through your lashes, finally letting your lips curl up into a smirk. “Why?”
His hands grab your hips and turn your body so your backside is pressed against the driver’s side door. “You know damn well why.” He presses his body against yours and moves his hands to lean on the car either side of your shoulders, trapping you.
Your head spins and you struggle to breath, overwhelmed by every inch of him that is pressed against you. “Why?” you ask again, your voice barely above a whisper.
He groans and pushes his hips harder into yours before leaning down and catching your lips with his. Your hands grip the sides of his shirt and pull, as if he isn’t already crushing himself against you. When you feel him slide a leg between yours, you gasp, and he takes the chance to push his tongue past your parted lips. You grind down on his thigh and a let out a soft whimper. You can feel him grin against your mouth before lifting his knee a little higher between your legs.
The rest of the world melts away as you grind and moan against each other, completely lost in the feelings you’ve stamped down for so long. Only when you feel your car door begin to bend behind you do you reluctantly put a hand on his chest and push him back.
He frowns as he steps back, looking adorable with lust-blown eyes and puffy red lips. “What’s wrong?”
“We’re about to put a me-sized dent in my car door,” you reply with a soft laugh.
“Oh.” His shoulders relax and he steps back toward you, his hands landing on your hips. “So, you were joking about Hangman, right?”
You roll your eyes, resting your hands on his chest. “Obviously.”
“Good.”
You give him a small smile before letting your eyes drop, panic seeping into your bones as your usual doubts begin to infect your thoughts. Did he only kiss you because he was jealous? Does he want more than friendship, or just a few extra benefits?
“Hey.” He crooks a finger beneath your chin to tilt your head up. “Do you want to know why I’d have a problem if you really did like Hangman?”
You nod as you suck your bottom lip between your teeth, biting down nervously.
“Because then it would’ve been too late for me to tell you that I’m in love you.”
Your heart almost leaps out of your chest. “In love with me?”
His cheeks go from pink to red and he quickly averts his eyes away from yours. “Unless you don’t feel the same, then I’m just in love with you like a friend.”
You roll your eyes again and softly smack his chest. “Don’t be stupid, of course I’m in love with you. I thought it was pretty fucking obvious.”
His lips split into a grin before he dips back down and kisses you again. “Thank God for that,” he mumbles against your mouth.
You giggle as he trails his lips across your cheek, along your jaw, and down your neck. “As much as I love this,” you say, “I would also really love to get out of the heat.”
“Good idea.” He steps back and pulls your body with his, turning a little to the side as leans toward the car and pulls the driver’s door open. “Let’s get back to your apartment and test out that new bed.”
Your knees almost wobble as you step toward the car and drop into the driver’s seat. Bradley is around the car in less than a few seconds, climbing into the passenger’s side and reaching one hand across the centre console to grab your leg.
“Let’s just hope Hangman hasn’t decided to take a nap,” you say as you begin pulling out of the parking spot.
Bradley turns to you with raised brows. “He’s still at your apartment?”
You nod. “He offered to clean up when I left.”
“What if he refuses to leave?”
You shrug one shoulder, your lips tipping up into a smirk. “Then he can join in.”
Bradley’s fingers squeeze hard around your thigh. “Not a fucking chance.”
You giggle when you glance at his stormy expression, but you’d be lying if you said his jealousy wasn’t a bit of a turn on. “You’re not into wife-swapping?” you ask.
He tilts his head, clearly confused. “Wife?”
“Well, yeah. I’m your partner, right? Your emergency contact partner.”
It takes him a few seconds to realise what you mean, but once he does, he drops his head into both hands and sighs loudly. “They told you that?”
You almost feel bad for laughing at him again, but you can’t help it. “The woman called you my husband when I first got there.”
When he looks back up, you’re positive you’ve never seen a more gorgeous boy in the world. His cheeks are bright pink, his honey-brown eyes are sparkling, and he’s grinning so wide you can’t help but grin back at him. “Well, they didn’t really have an option for ‘best friend who I really want to bang and eventually marry one day’.”
Your breath catches in your throat and you’re pretty sure your heart stops. “Marry?”
He turns his attention out the windscreen, still smiling, and his hand returns to its place on your thigh as he says more to himself than you, “One day soon hopefully.”
President Donald Trump on Thursday issued executive orders that would ban the social media app TikTok and WeChat from operating in the US in
Do not believe for a second that Donald is suddenly the savior of TikTok. The guy probably only wants to salvage it now so Elon Musk can buy it out after which he will drive it into the ground turning it into another rightwing disinformation cesspit just like he did with Twitter
the us banning tiktok over fears of chinese influence prompting americans to flee to xiaohongshu (which translates to little red book - the same name as the famous red book of mao zedong quotations) and form instant connections with the chinese… you can't make this kind of irony up
“At my old job in public education, my office mate invented the concept of the 8 Weeks of Doom. This was defined as the period between New Year’s and Spring Break where it was dark and gray, there were few holidays, and everyone’s seasonal depression hit an all-time high. To combat the 8 Weeks of Doom, she started a tradition of making me a Doom Calendar, which is an advent calendar but for fighting the Doom. She’d include small fidgets, snacks, stickers, and fun tea, which I’d open whenever the Doom felt very high on a particular day. Eventually this turned into a standing tradition of us making each other Doom Calendars, and the concept spread to our whole department. We would eventually just start our department meetings checking in about how everyone was managing the Doom, and did anyone want to open a Doom Calendar door for a quick pick me up? Even though we’re not longer office mates, I still exchange a Doom Calendar with this friend every year anyway. It really does help with the Doom!”
I adore this for the same reason I like winter celebrations/special days: humans realizing they can act to change their perception of reality. The longest dark, the coldest time of the year, can be dressed up as a party with lights and shiny things, or firecrackers and dancing wearing a lion costume. We can clean and make music and loud noises and give each other nice things and if we all do it very hard, together, maybe we won’t be so cold and sad.
i know we're all sick of self-care being a marketing tactic now, but i don't think a lot of us have any other concept of self-care beyond what companies have tried to sell us, so i thought i'd share my favorite self-care hand out
brought to you by how mad i just got at a Target ad
Now THAT’S a self care resource! If you’ve gotten distracted by capitalism’s appropriation of “self-care” and watering the meaning down to nothing this is a super helpful guide to cut through the bullshit.
Looking out of people’s windows is such a peaceful way of travelling… I got a snowfall in Argentina, a nice sea view in Ukraine, a clothes line in the fog in Bangalore. Antonella from Tavernaro, I like your wooden bird.
As a 30 year old man who escaped the Alt-right pipeline, you're not going to be happy about the answer.
All I hear from leftists is how much they hate me for my immutable traits, how much they blame me for everything wrong with the world, how much they want me and everyone who looks like me dead.
Whereas Alt-right types would call me "brother" and welcome me into their ranks so long as I hated the right ways.
Do you understand the difference?
I'm an ally and support equality because I feel it's the morally correct choice to make, but holy fuck is it difficult to reconcile that with the fact that means fighting for a lot of people who see you as the scum of the earth.
Read this and then read it again and then read some fucking bell hooks because this is a legitimate problem on the left.
"To create loving men, we must love males. Loving maleness is different from praising and rewarding males for living up to sexist-defined notions of male identity. Caring about men because of what they do for us is not the same as loving males for simply being." - bell hooks, The Will to Change https://bellhooksbooks.com/product/the-will-to-change/
IT DOESN’T HELP THAT THOSE ARE POSSUMS WHO ALSO HAVE TERRIBLE EYESIGHT. XD SO BOTH CREATURES DIDN’T REALIZE WHAT WAS WHAT UNTIL THE LAST MINUTE I’M DYING.
