Tell Me A Soft Memory

can anyone remember that post about how children write the best poems & it had an article attached showing the differences between little kids' poetry & preteens?? im desperate to find it again

refseek.com

www.worldcat.org/

link.springer.com

http://bioline.org.br/

repec.org

science.gov

pdfdrive.com

they lost focus and had a consensual workplace relationship

seeing ghosts

+ bonus no glasses version

AKA tom kazansky and his family of idiot flyboys

a lil photo detail from a fic thing that may or may not see the light of day any time soon (king of writing 20k words then deleting it) but i like the scene itself enough to make at least this small part permanent :P

think ill draw out more as a tactic to get myself to not delete the thing

I will not be taking arguments about this. 

Sitting in front of a cake with 40 birthday candles on it, it's probably one of the weirdest experiences of Bradley's life. Not because he didn't think he was going to get forty, but because there were so many people around him singing and hugging him, passing him presents and taking photos of the event that it baffled him a little. Uncle Tom and Uncle Pete are there too, and that's another reason why his eyes are a little wet; he spent so much time being angry with them, and now they're here, on the other side of the table, drinking beers and laughing with the rest of the squad. At forty, Uncle Tom had been raising Bradley since 1988. He was married to Mav, and their little family was all they had to celebrate, and most of the men he called, calls, uncle were around the world. They are still around the world, but their presents and their birthday videos are there, and they will be around, in person, at least once a week. They, his uncles and his squadron, are his family now, and they're enough to not fit on his two hands when he counts them all. He makes Bradley's heart beat a little faster, and all he feels is happiness.

When he blows the candles, he wishes for another thousand birthdays like this.

(He falls asleep, drunk and exhausted, hugging Jake in the middle of the other twelve people, and Logan is hugging him. He knows his head and back won't thank him in the morning, but he's safe, and the blankets around him make it all warm and cozy. Bradley couldn't ask for a better birthday.)

jakes about an hour late to the latest iceman-maverick (icemav for short, as phoenix has coined) barbecue, so he’s just passing through the kitchen, not even thinking as he tosses out an easy “hey pops,” to the hosts on his way towards the doors to the backyard.

two voices call back in response. “hey kid.” “good to see you jake.”

he feels the pause. his hand hovers uncertainly over the door handle. slowly, he turns.

iceman and maverick, happily married couple, have suspended all kitchenly duties to glare at each other. “he was talking to me.”

“no, he was talking to me.”

“everyone calls me pops,” ice says, eyes narrowed. “bradley calls me pops. mickey calls me pops. even cyclone called me pops that one time that was embarrassing for all of us.”

maverick waves a hand at ice, the hand also wielding a knife he was using to chop watermelon. “yeah, but jake calls me pops. he called me pops before he knew you. that gives me pops rights.”

jakes debating just slipping out the door when they both turn towards him. in unison like good wingmen.

“jake, buddy, sport, slugger, who were you talking to?”

he offers a shrug. “uh, both of you, i guess.” it’s the truth, he wasn’t thinking too hard about it, his mind focused on getting to the backyard where he has it on good authority that his loving boyfriend is sweaty and shirtless and waiting for someone to share his lawn chair with.

ice purses his lips. “that won’t do.”

“we can’t both be pops,” maverick agrees. “that’s ridiculous.”

“right,” jake says, “that’s what’s ridiculous about this.”

“a challenge then,” ice forges on, ignoring him. “to determine who’s the better pops.”

solemn as their air boss, maverick sticks his hand out (sans knife) to shake on it. in some funhouse mirror reflection of that one photograph that seems to be everywhere, ice clasps his hand back.

and jake is somewhere between laughing, running, and bursting into tears. because no sane person has ever had this argument before and certainly not over him. nobody’s ever fought to be jake seresin’s pops before.

no one except these two ridiculous, crazy old men.

At sixteen he used to tell wild stories about the scar on his cheek. Wild adventures he lived with wild people during a summer camp he was never part of it. But it was a good story and girls and boys spent hours listening him talk.

At twenty seven, fresh out of Annapolis the story got wilder and bigger than life. This time it was about a crush, a dogfight and saving his teammates before ejecting and marring his face forever for them. Seresin always laughed in the louder way possibile when he heard the story and always alway bought a shot to Machado because and even this night it got more adventurous Bradshaw! What's next?

At thirty eight, in the backyard of his dads' home and with every single person important in his life, new and old family, Rooster tells all another story. It's Fanboy who asks because he's curious as a fox and he needs to know the truth, so how did it Rooster got the scar on his cheek Mav?

It was actually a very funny story, wasn't it Slider? Ice asks, half laughing and half trying to stay serious. So funny, adds Mav, that Admiral Kerner lost his babysitting privileges for three whole months!

I had to do a PowerPoint to let him be back in the house it's Rooster's answer and I still have it around somewhere Baby Goose, I was so touched.

You cried like a five years old Kerner, stop bullshitting everybody! screams Hollywood from the other side of the garden. He did and, anyway, we left that two alone for a day, Ice was picking me up at the airport and when we got back that evening Baby Goose had this enormous bandage covering half of his face, there was blood everywhere in the bathroom and Ron's shirt was as bloody as his hands. This idiots tried to save a kitten but forgot none of them actually knew how to go up or down on a tree and the poor beast was probably scared out of his mind and attacked Bradley who lost his balance and fall out of the three with Ron following him and it y'know the blood wasn't even their but of a poor bird the cat left on the base of the tree.

Everybody is laughing and honestly this version of the story? Way better than anything Rooster could have every come out with.

maverick knows his pilots miss him because of the little things they share. the texts he gets and the pictures. always at random, sporadic and unprompted.

things like —

fanboy telling him they nailed a test run for a new mission because of the way mav taught them to fly.

you two would’ve done that all on your own. proud of you.

phoenix telling him she’s up for promotion and hoping he can make it to the ceremony since it’s his fault she’s gotten even better in the air.

you were always going to soar, phoenix. i’ll be there.

coyote telling him, not for the first time, how grateful he is that maverick knows the importance of getting everyone home alive.

nothing wrong with a little hope, right?

just. small things that make mav’s chest ache every time with something proud and fond and soft because he may not be flying for the navy anymore, but these kids are absolutely making sure he still feels like he is.