🎙

n hangman doesn’t give a SHIT abt golf but he loves this stupid ass glove bc 1)his engagement ring and 2)he gets to make dumbass sexually inappropriate comments

jake religiously waking up at 0500 and struggling to fight his way out of bradley’s grip because “bradshaw, you shoulda thought twice about choosing a man who actually takes care of himself - unhand me, you’re like — like quicksand”

and bradley doesn’t even know who is talking right now in his bed because why the hell would anybody get up 30 minutes before their (their) alarm and why is he moving so much. why is this happening to him.

jake’s all but batting at him trying to extricate with increasingly annoyed “my body is a temple - and you are the unabomber” while bradley’s just “tenpl…. jake the fuck,…… , man,,”

when he finally escapes w his life, jake is up and at em. he’s brushing his teeth and blending a smoothie and putting on his running clothes and out the door before bradley has a chance to turn off the alarm and prop his bag of bones body up into a position that wont kill him when he’s 60. he stumbles out into the living room and can barely process the tornado that passed thru his house

he’s picking up the pajamas off the floor, capping the toothpaste, putting the stupid hair products, that jake absolutely does not need for a run, away. then he moves to the kitchen and cleans up the green cement in their nutribullet blender. the cat’s already fed, but she’s screaming all the same bc bradley has spoiled her and cannot stop himself from responding to loud, whiny things. (he won’t think about this too closely)

he makes breakfast just in time for jake to come back. and bradley’s on him like a fuckin blood hound, rubbing his face all over jake’s neck and hair like a cat, despite (because of) the fact that he’s drenched in sweat and telling him that he’s a gross freak. and yea he loves the attention but thats besides the point, because bradley’s left his weights on the couch and the sharp angles are gonna ruin the leather. he doesn’t have time to put up a real fight about it because the way he’s kissing up his neck is suggesting a productive shower.

they bicker a normal insufferable amount like they do every morning. bradley makes a face at jake’s insane workout hack/diet tiktok folder over his shoulder, jake bitches that he’s getting rug burn from his stupid mustache. the cat complains that her favorite scratch post is being taken up by bradley’s golf bag. and jake is telling him he needs to move that eyesore anyway and ignores the fact that her actual scratch tower they bought her was left unattended in favor of the cabinet where they keep all their stupid blu-rays.

jake keeps telling him to donate them to the potential needy that have a poor enough taste to appreciate classic hits like pirates of the carribbean 2, 28 days later, and the accountant. it’s a losing battle, what a fuckin hoarder.

but despite his stubbornness, sometimes the morning light crawls up jake just right — as he’s defending his love for american pie — and bradley’s chest goes all warm and tight at the sight of the seresin crinkle around his eyes, and he ALMOST gives in. almost.

what????

they both try to be happy without working on themselves, using other people and distractions to fill the void of their personalities?? bojack’s bottomless cynicism and PBs relentless optimism they individually use as a crutch both yield the same result and end up destroying their relationships???

and despite their self-images/public images of absolute hatred vs absolute positivity, they’ve both shown that they can have a warmer, empathetic, selfless side and a petty, vindictive, aggressive side respectively??

they both avoid growing up and confronting their shortcomings with planned obliviousness? that one hides behind substance abuse and meaningless sex while the other hides behind serial monogamy and total absorption because they’re afraid of being alone? both end up draining the people closest to them into husks bc they’re emotion black holes that unload and overshare unwarrantedly?

and they both become the opposite of themselves towards the end? clear then ruin, and ruin then clear their reputations respectively until they’re neutralized? and the only way they can get through it was to learn to drop their vices, fix their bad behaviors, and learn to be okay with being alone?????? despite them growing up with emotional unavailability in different fonts?

and then they start LIVING TOGETHER???

and they’re NOT gaying each other??????

ohhh, sorry - yea.. i’ll have the No. 5. yea, yep. ice cold. thank you. Umh, card. no receipt this time. yea i’m trying to lose weight. thanks

hangman, all bruised up and smug: lol you should see the other guy

coyote: so you got him good huh?

comes as zero surprise but they’re boat douchebags

jake is up and at em at 0500 hours and doing nobody any goddamn favors because javy’s boat is his escape, his reprieve (he lies down on the starboard with cucumbers over his eyes) and no one’s going to take that away from him. he’s actually picking everybody up in his bmw, honking his horn, throwing san diego lawn pebbles at the windows until they come out. mickey’s the first to get picked up, and brings a megaphone to rouse the others with a gentle, tender “HELLLLOOOO SAILOR CMON CMON CMON.”

they are out by 7AM.

natasha brought enough beer to sup a small squadron(a platoon) and she will be drinking about 40% of them. she’s drunk in the bmw, she’s drunk when they get to the deck, she’s drunk on the port. no she doesn’t have a problem. it’s boat-day, she is off-duty, it’s a wonderful day to be alive and she’s going to be wearing bob’s sunglasses and harping him to put on sunscreen for the 6th time bc she wants that lil whitegirlboy so bad. she regularly takes jake’s cucumbers bc he’s doing too much. she’s sunbathing on a star-spangled towel and arm wrestling an equally drunk javy

reuben’s got this performative-male-ass retro bluetooth speaker and it’s being hijacked by everybody in the group. he’s barely using it though, he’s doing anything but staying on the boat. he’s wakeboarding with jake, he’s claiming he can swim faster than the boat (he cant but its impressive that he kind of keeps up). he’s snorkeling even— it gets to a point that they have to tie a rope to his vest from the front side of the boat. and it like.. straight up j looks like theyre dragging a dead body

javy’s got the salad, and a portable george foreman because he’ll die before he has to go one boat-day without bob’s marinade steaks or godly burgers. it’s just ground beef with salt, pepper, and oregano but there has to be a special ingredient like love in there or SOMETHING.

it’s anxiety sweats. natasha looks so good in his glasses and she’s been applying sunscreen on him so religiously and its making him NERVOUS….

it gets so bad that bob tries to have bradley take over, but bradley’s got his own issues to deal with. he cant stop staring at jake while the guy is lounging and slinky like a cat with the tan-line of his little golden cross that he now knows his sister (lovely lady, extremely nosy and meaner than jake) got him. and like, it’s kind of pissing him off how at home he looks on a boat? look, bradley’s simple - he CAN be fairly easy-going on such a beautiful day. but when jake’s making this big production of Enjoying Himself and antagonizing bradley into jumping into the ocean when he doesn’t wanna get wet… He’s vibrating with rage and he wants to jump his bones and waterboard him. or mess around w him in the cabin of the boat. (they’ve done so like every time they’re there)

he’s so fucking devastated by it all that its VISIBLE in a goddamn aerial drone. he blames it on sea-sickness bc he’s a shitass liar, you’re in the NAVY bro. Speaking of sea sickness. mickey’s actually fucking sea-sick. for some reason. he says its only with smaller boats, and javy gets offended at being called small while jake crows that “its the motion of the ocean.” cue fake-gagging from the group (bradley chokes, because he knows for a fact two things can be true at once) and real gagging from mickey bc yea. fuck. it is the motion of the ocean. he had to genuinely buy a drone so that he can feel connected to the air. that grounds him for reasons that make zero damn sense.

“you’re going too fast.”

“so keep the fuck up.” HUH??

and hangman is absolutely the guy who would drive everybody away by demanding absolute excellence and for everyone to be on his level. he dismisses rooster at first bc this fucking guy is too slow is he even a fighter pilot or is he a goddamn commerical lugger.

but then, in a rare lack of self restraint, and with enough verbal/tactical cornering, rooster goes rogue and meets him at his speed and hangman is never the same. bro’s obsessed w recreating the perfect fucking conditions of breaking this emotional castigation that pushes rooster over the edge and has him showing teeth

because that’s it.

unlike the parallel its drawn from. mav and ice looked at each other out of curiosity. a mutual challenge that meant they were sussing each other out. it’s the initial push and pull - an acknowledgement that they are going to fight for a spot and be in each other’s orbit in a way that exceeds professional competition.

but rooster and hangman, they’ve already had the pre-existing give and take. their dynamic has already been built.

and more than anything they could say to each other, that’s their relationship. hangman looks, uncensored, unrestrictedly and impolitely at rooster to gauge his reaction; to drive a point across. because he can, and will, even if it’s never been about him. now it is.

and rooster looks back at hangman, inevitably, because he knows all that, knows him. he recognizes what and when the guy will turn to him because he’s been around hangman too long to not feel his eyes on him, or keep his movements in his peripheral. hangman moves recklessly — it could have been chosen to be directed as an imperceptible, or unnoticed act to signify that their rivalry is more quiet envy and resentment than honest to god, two-way competition. but it’s not, because

they aren’t like that. it’s a mutual exchange. where hangman looks, rooster’s already staring

natasha and javy drive a chevy silverado that look EXACTLY alike down to the group friendship bracelets hanging on the mirrors (like i’ve said. they have both gotten so confused over who’s car it is that they have tried forcing open and breaking into each other’s vehicle on more than 10 different occasions)

natasha has accidentally fucked up the handle on javy’s truck bc she doesn’t stop at confusion and j tries brute forcing it — to the point that “time to play chevy roulette” is a regular saying. and they had to put one of those glitter letters for their initials on the windshield. (the group swaps them constantly as a prank)

mickey drives an absolutely fucked up 2003 jeep compass that he swears up and down works even though the engine sounds like a plane slowly being pushed into a wood chipper and the suspensions fucked and it has a whopping 275k miles. the windows don’t work. the air conditioning is mostly loud, hot breathing, and it’s been beat to shit by birds who want to commit suicide and know that this car leaves no survivors.

he has to get a ride from EVERYBODY bc it actually starts 3/10 times, but he refuses to give it up. this car has followed him everywhere. every time one of them has the misfortune to get into it, they shoot a farewell text to their loved ones and genuinely become religious.

reuben drives a fucking prius with a clear back bc of course he does. and he’s insufferable abt his mileage. he even has an EV charger in his garage. he spoils the hell out of his baby. “i care about the environment” then why are you going to get the premium car washes every other week bro. YOU’RE IN A DROUGHT. it’s a car, let’s be so serious. he has read the manual in the glovebox almost as much as he has read the NATOPS manual. the group is convinced he sleeps with it by his bedside.

he has a “no drinks and food allowed” rule that gets thrown out the window bc he religiously vacuums every seat anyway.

bob drives a subaru crosstrek. well, not really, actually. he rides a bike to work most days. a beautiful suzuki that he actually covers with a tarp when not in use like an old piano. natasha’s knees buckle when she realizes that the very animated biker she always manages to be behind while stopped at a red light is actually just bob.

and man is he good. he and mav have actually unknowingly ridden together most work days as bike buddies. he can he keep up like he’s in tron. also, he’s got tassles on the handlebars because why the fuck not.

bradley’s infamous bronco. it has an automatic transmission bc he has fried the clutch on every manual transmission car he has had in highschool. (2 and a half. the 3rd he gave away when he had to park up a hill and nearly rolled back and took out everybody behind him.) apart from that, he drives so well. we’re talking limousine stops, parallel parking god, so spatially aware that, once, on a long drive, he fell asleep behind the wheel and muscle memory kept him in the lanes.

broncos are pieces of shit, and break down constantly, though. so nobody believes he’s a good driver until he drives THEIR cars. downside to being driven by bradley is that he fucks with the seat and mirror settings to the point that vehicles are undriveable unless driven by him.

jake drives a goddamn bmw. a black bmw with a veterans license plate on it. and he actually shouldn’t be allowed on the road. he tailgates, weaves through traffic. he follows police cars for the thrill. he revs his engine to scare children and the elderly. the famous last words to having jake lead through unknown roads are “just follow close behind me.” and then you’ll never see him again. genuinely, all thats left is a road runner, bugs bunny outline of where his car should have been.

hangman coasts thru life by being incredibly good at reading people, making snap judgements and deciding whether or not they are beneath him. which. they mostly are. he kisses ass when he needs to, but because he’s already “figured out” everything there is to know about somebody, he can v readily rise above, or keep them down by needling, hyper-sensitive provocation.

rooster generally approaches meeting new people with some civil curosity. he’s not bubbly, or egregiously outgoing - and his circle of friends can be counted on one and a half hands - but he mostly wants to like people, and he wants to, in turn, be liked by people - and tries to keep an open mind and no particular expectation abt others.

cue them meeting at top gun.

and for the first time, hangman cannot fucking figure rooster out. guys a fucking immovable wall that he cant seem to get through. n yet the cracks are huge. he sticks his elbow and shoulder into them when he can but for the life of him, he cannot nail him down and its as challenging as it is absolutely pissing him off bc he’s not at all normal abt not being the smartest guy in the room— and also because why does he do the things that he does? he’s a walking fucking contradiction to all stereotypes of nobodies hangman has used to categorize ppl. hangman, who has been blessed w innate understanding of who someone is at their core, somehow keeps drilling into studs on a wall while trying to hang the bigger picture. so he keeps provoking; keeps getting meaner (baiting and nitpicking and antagonizing like the crashout psycho bitch he is) in hopes of finally hitting an artery bc, in his head, its easier than asking;

“who are you?”

and rooster, for the v first time, absolutely finds himself reading somebody (hangman) like a goddamn book. the moment the jackass opens his mouth, rooster’s open mind has narrowed into the size of a fucking pinhole. so much so that he cannot see beyond the blind alarms of “ASSHOLE! ASSHOLE! ASSHOLE!” and is so hyperaware of what makes hangman sing, what things he can do that hangman will absolutely fucking snark him for — (i.e he is so conscious of him as he is of himself in relation to him) to the point that he gets in his own head and falls for hangman’s provocations Every. Single. Time. because just the gall of acting this way floors rooster as much as it pisses him off. he doesn’t give a single shit abt being liked or liking the guy. bro’s never once thought about getting off on the right foot, n idk maybe settling their differences. because in his made-up mind, hangman is just a douche with a superiority complex— and he won’t change. so why try? it’s much easier to do that than asking:

both natasha and javy drive a chevy silverado and both of them have accidentally tried to force open the other on more than one occasion. absolutely fucking crowding public spaces also

at each other’s house, mickey keeps playing country on the aux and bob’s weakly convincing everybody to hop on his steak marinade (it’s just mustard, worcestershire, and mayonnaise). singing songs that are absolute lyrical nonsense. javy tries to play lo-fi once and he’s harassed so hard that he gets banished outside

they have a choreo for timber by pit and kesha. their gc is 5% planning and 95% of bradley trying to stop the bbqs and game nights and sports nights from happening at his house again bc at some point the party’s gonna migrate in his room and they’re all gonna put on his extensive collection of hawaiian shirts

no one has been to natasha’s. rumors are she lives in a mansion. it’s just onbase housing. bob is very quiet about it.

if its on base. the moment it hits 5:00pm everyone runs inside so that they dont have to stand at parade rest/attention for the national anthem. reuben and mickey arent fast enough and they try to keep their star spangled hoola hoops from falling to the floor while paying some semi respect to the flag

bradley and jake have already entered a massive pissing contest on whether charcoal or pellets are the better bbq fuel. jake’s a charcoal puritan and bradley is (in jakes words) ‘a bougie trendhopping consumerist’ - but when they’re lounging at the pool with too many beers they keep finding excuses to touch hands and drown each other. their first kiss was with bradley crowding jake into the kitchen while they were the designated drink couriers. and after a sufficient amount of time tasting mouths or whatever gay shit, jake smugly tells him “yea charcoal is better”

javy’s looking at them when they come back but he doesn’t gaf necessarily because he’s voting belligerently drunk group cannonballs on a pool float.

jake has entered the “you guys are like…. my best friends” stage of being drunk. natasha is frat flicking and shamelessly hyping up bob’s grilling to the point that he’s got his head in his hands.

if hangman’s a texan of the farmhand variety then we know for a fact the mf has pulled up right next to rooster, window rolled down and shit eating like “yknow, you’d get more service if you popped a button or two off that godawful tropicana”