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uh idk what i should say i just decided to post my toddblack fanart (from 2023 till now) here

enjoy ig :)

this one's supposed to be a reference to that one meme with a girl staring at a man's chest (i hope you can see my vision 😔🙏)

these three are my favorite ESPECIALLY the last one im always scared i draw them too ooc and im kinda happy with how they turned out here !!

yep.

btw i draw them mostly pre canon so they're kinda soft(??) with each other yeah.... and well i love fluff sorry 😔

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post-coma suho working out to build strength again and his personal gym cheerleader, sieun

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guardian angel 💫

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both are clinically insane (for each other)

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drunk ahn suho is clingy & possessive & gets what he wants

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May Suho and Sieun sleep peacefully from now on

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love them

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Have y’all seen those “find your long lost friend or relative” facebook groups? I’ve noticed a lot of them involve military families and people trying to find their childhood friends.

So I’m picturing Bradley posting while he’s still estranged from icemav. He’s looking through old pictures and feeling nostalgic:

“I’m looking for my best friend from childhood. Our families were both stationed in Pensacola for several years. His dad was a Marine, or Navy, and so was my uncle.

The only picture I have is from Halloween that year. My friend was a few years younger than me, but he still tagged along with our group. He was a really sweet kid, and he helped me out a lot when my mom was sick.

Right before my mom died my friend’s dad was deployed, and I think he moved back to Texas with his mom and siblings. I have tried to remember his name but I had a lot going on at the time, and I just forgot it. I think it might have started with a J.

He would have been born around 1988 or so, and at the time he was the middle child between two sisters. Help me find him?”

Javy sees it and recognizes the picture instantly. Jake’s mom has it hanging up right beside the mantel where his dad’s flag is. He had teased his friend exactly once, until Jake told him quietly that his dad had taken that picture.

Unsure what to do since Jake is currently deployed, he sends the post to Nat to get her opinion. They decide to wait until Jake gets home to mention anything.

As it turns out, Jake reaches Bradley first. He’s banging on Bradshaw’s door fresh off the boat. “What the fuck is this?” he demands, absolutely furious. He doesn’t even notice at first that Bradley is shirtless with messy bedhead.

“You act like you don’t know me in flight school, and then post some fake thing with my mom’s favorite picture of me? What the fuck did I ever do to you???”

Bradley is completely lost. He has no idea what Hangman is talking about.

“You’re the whole fucking reason I even went Navy—you and Mav—and then I finally get to flight school, finally see you again, and you treat me like the dirt under your boots.”

He’s still lost, but Bradley begins to get the faintest hint of an idea. Then blazing green eyes are staring at him from a furious, beautiful face. Jake waves his phone at Rooster, his facebook post front and center.

“And this is how you want to play it? Act like you’re some innocent kid? Like you didn’t completely abandon me after my dad died, when I needed you the most??”

Jake tried to hold onto his fury, but just thinking about that time was enough to make his eyes well up with tears. His dad had been part of a Marine peacekeeping mission to Bosnia when the vehicle they were in was hit by a stray IED. He was seven years old and mad at the world.

His mom took their family back to Texas, to his grandparents’ ranch, but Jake had carefully penned letters to Bradley, asking him about his daily activities, and asking him for advice on how to handle missing his dad.

He never got an answer, but he never gave up on his dreams, either. He worked hard, graduating high school early and entering the Naval Academy at seventeen. He had hoped he would see Bradley there, but it would be four more years before they crossed paths at flight school.

Jake had finished one of his first official solo hops when he saw Bradley pacing in the ready room. He strolled over to greet him only to be met with Rooster’s searing glare. “You keep flying like that you’re going to get your whole squadron killed,” Bradley spat the words in his face, instantly getting Jake’s back up.

It was going to be like that, was it?

They had been at each other’s throats ever since. Jake irritated Bradley by way of his similarities to Maverick, while Jake was deeply hurt by the apparent betrayal of his oldest friend. They were at an impasse.

A soft sniffle from Jake had Bradley looking back at the younger man. The hand holding his phone had dropped slightly, but that picture of that brightly smiling boy was still showing. Bradley looked between the picture and Jake, trying to make his mind process the truth.

The teary eyes, the hurt look, it all reframed the past years since they met (reconnected?) at flight school. No wonder Jake was so prickly. And had he said…?

“Your dad died?” Bradley questioned softly, reaching a hand to steady Jake’s elbow.

Jake stared at him, brow wrinkling in confusion. “You didn’t know?”

Bradley was already shaking his head. “No, I was at the hospital a lot with my mom and when I asked where you were Mav said your family had moved to Texas. I guess I assumed it was a new post for your dad, and I didn’t ask any questions. My mom died a few months later.”

Jake felt the last of his anger deflate. “I’m sorry, Roo.

Bradley stepped closer, wrapping his other arm around Jake’s hunched shoulders. “Do you want to come in? We can talk some, catch up?”

Jake couldn’t keep the hope off his face. He really wanted a fresh start with Bradley, instead of Rooster.

———

Update: thanks everyone! I found him:

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I used to think that if there were a season three of Weak Hero, that Suho would immediately want to have Sieun around all the time.

But now that I think about it, I wonder if it would be more in-character for him to not want to be too dependent on Sieun. Season one showed us how much Suho had to grow up fast without relying on anyone. We rarely saw him in any emotionally vulnerable position.

So I wonder if Suho would not want Sieun to see him weak or having to lean on him while he's recovering in the hospital. Didn't the director say that he would have waited for a week after waking up before contacting Sieun?

I'm thinking that Sieun would try to see him after school every day, but Suho would tell him to only come around certain hours (when he isn't tired). Just so that he wouldn't worry about him.

"Who would want to come to the hospital every day?" he would ask Sieun.

"...What if I want to?" Sieun would reply, following him as he rolled himself away in his wheelchair.

But that wouldn't stop Sieun from bringing him his favorite food, from asking his doctors and therapists more questions in private. From hounding Baku, who quickly gets close to Suho on his own and visits him too. And nothing would stop their dynamic from going back to the way things were.

"You better not be skipping cram school to see me! You're still number one in your class right?"

"...Yeah. But I have no problem studying here. It's quiet. Except when you talk."

"Hey...."

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Baekjin: I'm so happy, I could kiss you!

Baku: ...uhhhhh...Neat!

*Later*

Baku, lying face down on his bed: I said "Neat," Tak-ah. Who the fuck says neat these days? It's not neat to say neat but I said it anyways because I'm fucking stupid

Gotak, reading a book: Don't beat yourself up too much, Baku. Everyone gets nervous sometimes. Remember what I did when Seongje confessed his love for me?

Baku: ...Didn't you punch him?

Gotak: *looks at the ceiling in despair* I fucking punched him and ran away.

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Suho: If a rivalry lasts for more than seven years, you are no longer rivals. You are gay

Baku and Baekjin: *exchange a nervous glance*

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Mav not liking Jake and not liking Jake dating his only child is an amazing concept, ESPECIALLY when all his reasons are that Jake is too much like him. But it's even funnier if he doesn't realise it.

"He rides a motorcycle without a helmet! He better not be giving Bradley rides on that thing."

"Guy thinks he's God's gift to aviation."

"He's an insubordinate ass and thinks orders are suggestions."

Funny levels increase further if Ice finds absolutely nothing wrong with Bradley's taste in men, but is ALSO completely oblivious to the fact that he feels that way because HE has Bradley's taste in men—

"I've always thought holding onto someone while riding a motorcycle is very romantic."

"Confidence is sexy, dear."

"Well, you certainly don't want Bradley with a yes man."

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Icemav raising Jake and learning his callsign. Hearing that their son is called hangman because he leaves other pilots hanging. And of course, their relationship is built on being each others wingman, so they call their son and yell at him about how important it is to work as a team. And hangman reveals to his pissed off parents that it’s actually because his way of flirting with Bradley was to ask him to play hangman every time they were alone until he finally used it as a vessel to ask him out. Is this anything

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🔥 The Glasses Maneuver 🔥

Pete "Maverick" Mitchell and Tom "Iceman" Kazansky have always been close. Ever since the famous "you can be my wingman anytime" and the boisterous answer of "bullshit, you can be mine" it was established that where you found one, the other was closer behind.

For the world, they were legends. Wingmen. Brothers-in-arms. The Navy’s finest, forged in adrenaline and danger, polished by time and trust.

But for each other?

They were the secret that never really was.

From 1986 to the repeal of Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell, they danced the careful ballet of hidden glances and midnight rendezvous. Everyone knew—of course they did. But no one said a word. Not when Top Gun's golden boys locked eyes a little too long. Not when “best friends” took all their leave time together, year after year. Not even when they bought a beach house “as an investment.”

By the time they married—on the deck of a decommissioned carrier with the sun setting behind them like it was part of the ceremony, they had already been through hell and back.

Now, Ice was a Rear Admiral. Strategic, calm, as precise as ever, his edges as clean as his pressed whites. Maverick? A Captain who still flew like rules were just strong suggestions. Together, they were unstoppable.

But power and medals aside, nothing, nothing, could prepare Pete "Maverick" Mitchell for the war crime that happened one Tuesday evening.

He came home from base late—sunburnt, windblown, sand in his boots and cocky smirk still intact—only to freeze in the doorway.

There, sprawled on the couch like a sin in a Calvin Klein ad, was Tom "Iceman" Kazansky. Shirtless. Sweats riding scandalously low, revealing the promise of a V-line that seemed hand-sculpted by the gods of flight themselves. His hair, no longer regulation-tight, tumbled lazily over his forehead, kissed by silver. And on his face…

The glasses.

Slim, elegant, steel-rimmed traitors to Maverick’s sanity.

Iceman looked up from the book in his hand—The Art of War, of course—and offered a smirk that could’ve melted steel.

“Hey, baby. You’re late. Made you dinner,” he said, voice warm, casual, utterly composed. Then, with the cruel flick of a wrist and a glint of the lenses catching the light, he asked:

“Do you like them?”

Oh no.

Maverick’s brain went blank. Static. Full tunnel vision. All systems offline except one: the one that said jump your gorgeous husband right now.

“I want to sit in your lap and kiss your face forever,” he blurted, words tumbling over themselves in sheer desperation, “and let you bang me while you wear your glasses.”

Iceman blinked, bemused. “Is that a threat or a promise?”

Maverick, already halfway out of his uniform, straddled his husband with zero shame. “Yes.”

The laughter that followed was low and intimate, a hum against his throat. And then, the glasses stayed on.

Their kisses were molten, slow, reverent. Maverick’s fingers tangled in hair gone soft with age and freedom, his mouth finding the curve of Ice’s collarbone, his pulse, his jaw.

Iceman’s hands roamed with knowing intent, his control ironclad but tender. He whispered things only Maverick was meant to hear, things about belonging, about time, about always.

They didn’t rush. They savored. On that worn leather couch, in the dim of their home, with the faint scent of garlic from the untouched dinner and the sound of waves crashing through the open balcony doors, they made love like men who had waited decades to be seen.

And Ice wore the glasses the whole time.

After that? Maverick was wrecked. Completely, irreversibly undone.

Every time Iceman reached for those glasses, whether to read, to sign papers, or once (bless him) to fix the thermostat—Maverick would visibly short-circuit. He’d stutter. He’d blush like a teenager. He’d practically mount him in the hallway.

“You’re wearing them again,” Maverick once whispered, cornering him in the kitchen.

Ice, slicing a tomato like a man who didn’t just cause a five-alarm lust emergency, merely raised a brow. “They help me see.”

“They help me see the light,” Maverick groaned, pressing up against him, hands already snaking under the admiral’s shirt.

It became a pattern. A very dangerous pattern.

Iceman started wearing them more often. Meetings. Mornings. Once to Maverick’s promotion ceremony, fully knowing what that would do.

Let’s just say they had to explain a few bruises the next day.

But this was their love story: not loud, not flamboyant, but burning bright and steady, like the afterglow of afterburners lighting up the sky.

Still wingmen. Still best friends. Still in love.

But now?

Everyone knew.

And neither of them gave a damn.

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Weather forecast predicts absolute foolery

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Anyway, have some Waynes lore I made up because I refuse to believe they weren't badasses