#i love cowboys but not what they stand for in american history this way i get to have my cake and eat it too haha.

[flem17ng]

Vault Dweller's guide to perpetuating America:

Lucy Maclean x Fem!reader

Summary: Lucy is getting married and reader is forced to watch. but vault tech never planned for the inevitability of Sapphics…

Content: Fluff and angst, systematic homophobia, happy ending, no use of y/n

Authors note: Let me know if you want more of this or have any prompts to send it :)

Word count: 3.1K

Gay people were not a thing according to Vault Tech. They did not add to the breading pool, they did not fit into the nuclear future, they simply did not fit in the vault. Unlike sperm, cola, and corn, homosexuals did not play a key part in perpetuating the American dream. This was a good enough explanation for anyone willing to enquire (and enquire they had in the early years of Vault 33), but overall, as the years of confinement and isolation dragged on, and marriage for the sake of breading continued, homosexuality was quite simply... forgotten.

Rely on a schooling system created by greying, rich, white men to eradicate historical depictions of minorities. Education in the vaults was about the great west, cowboys, the splitting of the atom, the creation of the commonwealths, and the importance of capitalism; education was certainly not for understanding the distant Stonewall riots or the ancient tunes of "Freddy Mercury". heck! This was the new world! a once in a lifetime opportunity to reshape society! If Vault Tech could systematically remove a section of society that could not reproduce and thus could not recolonize the wasteland then they sure as hell would do just that.

Now let's be clear: Vault Tech loves and values all its customers! The fight against the Reds was the fight for American freedom, for the dream, for the nuclear family, for the blue, white, and red! America celebrates freedom for all! but even in the great year of 2077, scientists at Vault tech simply couldn't work in the variable of homosexuals into the Vault system. At least not into the control vaults. Systematic eradication is, by all means, easier than acceptance.

Vault 33! One vault in a triad with 31 and 32. A dedicated meritocracy built on the values of one's good deeds. Lucy Maclean prided herself on her merit and her ethics. She knew how to de-escalate a conflict, she knew how to stand up for her beliefs, and she knew the importance of kindness. She also knew her valuable role as a woman in the Vault 33 society.

As a woman, the daughter of the overseer, she would be a community leader, a history teacher, and maybe later in life, she would run for council. As a woman, she would also get married (preferably not to her cousin) and have little vault babies who would grow up, learn their own merit, and so on and so on. To say that Lucy was comfortable and fulfilled by this prediction of her life would be... a vast exaggeration.

Yes, she understood her importance as a potential mother! Yes, she loved and valued her community, her family, and her job. But something stopped her from becoming stagnant. Something about this perfect path she had been given just wasn't right for her. It grated at her relentlessly, a thorn in her side, a nagging hunch she couldn't shake. Surely it would change on the day of her wedding. She would meet her husband, kiss, make babies, have cake and everything would settle. The unease she felt would lessen and she would accept her designated role.

~

"I am so glad your marriage application was accepted! I just cannot wait for you to join us wives!" Steph squeaked, one hand cradling the ever-growing bump in her tummy while the other waved around to illustrate her excitement. Steph was the carbon copy of what Vault Tech stood for: she was a wife, a soon-to-be mother, smart and strong-willed. She was drop-dead gorgeous with well-maintained hygiene. when you thought of the "American dream" you thought of Stephanie Harper.

Lucy grinned back, fighting the urge to roll her eyes (eye rolling was rude and there were more effective ways to respectfully communicate your disdain).

"Oh golly! to think in a few short hours I’ll be on my way to furthering the vault's great aim!" She smiled for real this time because she knew her discomfort did not stem from contempt for motherhood.

"Oh, Lucy spare me the lewd details!" Steph giggled before winking.

"I know you don't mean that Steph. you and me both know you want as much detail as I can give." Lucy chuckled, picking at the canned tuna on her plate.

The dining area near the cornfield was particularly packed today; everyone wanted one last glimpse of Lucy Maclean before she was assigned to the ranks of wife. The stares and whispers were not unwelcome, however. They reminded her of the community that she was a part of the community she had been raised to help and to eventually add to.

"I hope he's handsome" Steph breathed, looking begrudgingly at her own husband who was standing awkwardly next to the Nuka-Cola machine with Chet. Lucy just swallowed hard and nodded. It was easier to think about the more fun parts of marriage than linger on the particulars of her mystery partner.

She was grateful for the marriage of course. It meant an excuse to cut things off with Chet who had been steadily grating on her nerves since she was 15 (he seemed to love her and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't begin to think of him like that in return. his warm body was truly his only perk.) It was also a milestone for her, a badge of honor to her community service. This is what vault tech wanted! This is what America wanted!

Lucy pushed back from her chair, suddenly feeling nauseous. 

"Lucy, are you ok? you look a little pale dear?" Betty called from the seat next to her father. At the sound of her voice, the vault dwellers looked up to find Lucy standing awkwardly by her table.

"Oh! Yes, quite alright thank you!" she shrugged, teeth glinting with faux charm. "I just... I just wanted to have a nap before it gets too chaotic." lying was wrong. You were taught that very young in Vault 33. Lucy pushed down the stab of guilt before turning on her heels towards her family's shared apartment.

~

You watched her stand up from her table with a start that made you furrow your eyebrows and look away quickly. You would never admit to anyone that you had been staring at her, but you knew you had been. She was easy to stare at! She was a figure of authority, in a sweet and slightly clumsy way. Your excuse, should anyone catch you, was simply that you admired her can-do spirit! (that wasn't a lie though you couldn't label it as the truth either).

The other part of the truth was that you had been staring at her like a lost puppy since her marriage arrangement was announced. You and Lucy's friendship was... complicated. You had grown up together (as all vault children did), and your families were close (but not related as a "fun class DNA test" had proved during your school years). things got rocky as you got older though: Lucy was outgoing, confident, and stunning. All together just all the things you wished you were. That is, not to say you weren't pretty! In fact, you had received a few proposals in the past year (mostly from an anonymous admirer you knew was Davey, and a couple from Chet after he realized things with Lucy wouldn't work out). You and Lucy where still close, and to her, probably as uncomplicated at a friendship could get!

The complication was simply that to you it had become increasingly obvious that you were desperately in love with her.

You had noticed it first when you were about 14. Lucy was stunning, having never suffered the "awkward teenager" phase of adolescence, and was quickly discovering her hypnotic power over Chet. You weren't jealous of course! at least... not at first. But then it was more than Lucy's teasing flirtation: it was kissing, it was spending time with him more than usual. Suddenly you were jealous. Jealous in a way that couldn't be explained by the "Vault-Tech: Guild to female friendships" or "Vault-Tech: female adolescence in the Vault" or even by your mother's trusty copy of "surviving the teenage years: a manual sponsored by General atomics."

It got worse when you turned 17. Sex Education was vitally important in Vault education. it prevented the spread of disease, enabled knowledgeable future mothers and fathers, and fostered respect and dignity between men and women. It was in one of these detailed lessons that you caught yourself watching Lucy's expression: laughing at times, cringing at the birth diagrams, blushing at parts with a quick side eye to you. 

The realization hit you like a ton of bricks as your eyes fluttered to her lips and lingered there for a moment too long. It hit you again at 18 during your "prom" when Lucy danced with you slowly as the light from the 2.5D Telesonic projector scattered across her cheekbones and lit up her doe-eyes. you remember almost pushing her away from the force of it. The force of the feeling, the emotion, the unholy urge to press your lips to hers that caught you like a punch.

That night you had curled in a ball and prayed. you did not know who "god" was, but you'd heard about him in class before. You prayed to him to make you a boy, to change your emotions, to make things make sense again. Your mother had stroked your hair, not truly understanding your grief but accepting it and holding it for you like only a mother can.

In your world of perfect underground utopia, the truest sorrow you had ever felt was the realization that you loved Lucy Maclean.

~

It took you a split second to stand up and follow Lucy out of the atrium. A second in which your mind reeled and hesitated sickeningly before you shut it up. Lucy was your friend, and she needed you now. Your footsteps echoed down the hall as you took the familiar path along the "street" toward Lucy's home. The door was only just sliding shut as you reached it and you rushed to duck under.

Lucy was where you expected her to be: knees to her chest, curled up on the sofa. Her hands were clenched in front of her, and her eyes were set at some point just beyond the "radiation king" television set that was blasting its usual nature documentary. She didn't look up as you entered, but the slight dip in her shoulders told you that she knew you were there.

"Lucy?" you called quietly, kneeling on the rug near her. she turned to you slowly and smiled politely as she was raised to.

"hey" she muttered, clearly trying to keep her tone cheerful.

you fixed her a look before sitting softly next to her on the sofa. She remained in her tight ball.

"pre-wedding nerves?" you asked, ignoring the lump that formed just next to your heart at the thought of Lucy's marriage. You watched her expression for confirmation, but it never came. Instead, she furrowed her brows and looked back at the nothing behind the TV.

"I'm sure everyone gets nervous before their wedding Lucy. Steph could tell you a million stories of her 'pre-wedding wobbles'" you chuckled, remembering Stephs wedding day not long ago.

"Its... it's not that." Lucy finally responded, tightening her grip around her legs.

"Then wha-"

"What if I don't want this... Like I thought I did" she blurted, the words mushing together as she fought to get them out of her mouth. You pursed your lips, desperate for her to continue. After a moment of silence, she started again, quieter and more measured.

"I feel so... Wrong. and I don't know-" she cut herself off, swallowed, and began again, "I don't want what Steph has anymore." 

"What? the wedding? I'm sure your father would agree to a smaller celebration if you told him! I think he just likes to make a fuss of you."

Lucy shook her head. Finally, she let her legs fall away from her chest as she turned to face you with a dramatic sigh.

"I've always been so certain. and now... well I am certain but just not of the things I should be." She shut her eyes, needing to get away from your face for a moment. The lessons flashed in front of her eyes in quick succession: reclamation day, the purpose of the vaults, reproduction, male anatomy, romance, how to be a wife, the American dream. It flashed and flashed and then sank into her gut like an over-set Jello cake. 

You watched her face shift from carefully masked to strangely tortured and back again before she opened her eyes once more. how you missed those eyes in that moment you couldn't see them.

She reached forward and held your hand, her finders dusting over yours curiously as if she was handling some strange new specimen. she'd held your hand before, countless times in the 20 years you'd known each other; and yet her fingers felt tentative in a way they hadn't before.

"Lucy... it's ok to be scared, it's ok to feel unsure. heck, you know I spend most of my time feeling unsure." you cast her a weak smile, "I know you, and I know you will be an amazing bride to whoever you marry. You'll be a perfect wife; you’ll be an amazing mother and one day I know you'll make an amazing overseer as well. And Lucy? even if it feels hard, you know I'll always be here." You had long ago settled into your role of best friend, nothing more. You would be there, and you would love her (in a way approved by social expectations).

Lucy stayed quiet for a long time, still slowly tracing over your fingers with her own. It had clocked for her the moment you had entered the room after her dramatic exit from the atrium. she wasn't unsure, she wasn't uncertain. I fact, she felt as though she had never been more certain in her whole life.

Maybe it had started when she was 12, when you had helped her take her first ever stimpack: holding the needle steady, wiping her eyes with your own hand and giving her a little Vault-Boy band-aid to cover the little hole. 

Maybe it had started when she was 15 and getting a steady stream of attention from boys (mostly Chet) and could only watch your disdained reaction to her suitors. Even then she had a hunch that she cared more about your opinion on her "boyfriends" than the boys themselves.

Maybe it was when she was 18, pulling you through a maintenance tunnel by your hand with a high-pitched giggle and a determination to find a good meeting place for when you no longer had school to attend. She remembers your initial reluctance, followed by rebellious cheek that pushed you both further into the guts of the vault than you had planned on. She remembers the oil that had got on your face that she insisted on wiping away herself.

She tore her eyes away from your hands and stared at you with all the intensity and authority that the overseer’s daughter should possess.

"I’m not scared. and golly I feel about as far from unsure as a girl can be." her hands tightened around yours. "This vault... we are told what we do and what we feel. heck, they even tell us who we should marry! Maybe I'm being silly but that doesn't fit into the 'American dream' they are always yammering on about!" her voice rose had she got more passionate. you watched her with a mix of shock and awe (an emotion you often felt yourself feeling when you were around her)

"I've always nodded along to what they've told us! who am I to doubt the rules?" she continued, her eyes never leaving yours, "but this marriage... I don't want that!" she concluded with a huff, finally blinking and pursing her lips as if she'd suddenly gotten shy.

It was your turn to reach out to her now, freeing one of your hands from her grip and placing it softly on her shoulder. you put on a calm expression, but your heart betrayed you: beating rapidly as if trying to escape its spot behind your ribs.

"What is it you want if not the marriage?" you whispered, feeling the moments fragility.

a beat.

Lucy sighed, stealing herself. her eyes were no longer full of angry passion, but rather softer, watery. her expression seemed to mirror the way you knew you were looking at her.

"I think- no, I know... Gosh, I want you so badly" she breathed. 

Another war could have started and ended, and you wouldn't have noticed. The air stilled despite the constant circulation of the vents and the clock on the wall must have stopped ticking. Silence, a long silence that must have only spanned a fraction of a second.

Her words, like the flash of light as a fission reaction begins, followed by a lull followed by...

You launched forward before Lucy could hesitate, before you could leave her hanging, before she could dare think that you didn't want her back. her lips touched yours and it reminded you of the desperate prayers you used to send to the man called "god" (you thanked him now that he never changed you). There were no fireworks like the books said, no large, forced explosion, no splitting of an atom. Instead, it felt... inevitable, like the slow decay of an element, like aging gracefully, like coming home.

Her lips slotted against yours perfectly, softly and she gasped as she kissed you back. you kissed not for the purpose of "perpetuating America" or building the next generation of vault dwellers, but simply because you wanted to. 

She pulled back after a while, bleary eyes and pink-cheeked with a grin that made your heart grow.

"I did... know we could..." she let out before laughing, one hand covering her mouth while the other found its way to the side of your face where it lingered. You laughed too, sides splitting and eyes watering.

"Who the hell cares" you spluttered between laughs, leaning into Lucys hand.

"If it wasn't clear... I want you to. in a um... kissing way"

"Oh really? I wouldn't have guessed" she drawled playfully, "well then... I think we have a wedding to wreck."

"What will you tell them?"

She shrugged and scooched a little closer. "That's a future Lucy problem. Current Lucy is preoccupied..." She smiled at you in a manner that was really more of a smirk.

You had barely enough time to squeak out a rather excited "Okey Dokey" before it was her turn to shut you up with a kiss.

[bixels]

I'll write up what I have so far if you wanna take and run with it, but they're really loose ideas (Sunset's story would come further down the line, so it's lower priority for me to figure out). Here are my current story notes:

Sunset is a morally grey character who has to make peace with her past transgressions and regain her motivation to live a good life. She feels most alive when fighting or in mortal danger. She's jaded, tired, and quick to anger.

(In order to set her apart from Starlight (Stella), I'm changing her character to no longer be a villain. Perhaps we meet her on the road to self-improvement and redemption.)

Sunset used to be Celestia's personal student and was set to become the first human (outside of Celestia's family) to join the court of witches (hence why she has a Canterlot name). But Sunset's impatience and selfishness caused her name to be disgraced and cast out by Celestia, banished from Canterlot and set to wander the American West alone. Thea (Twilight) became the first human instead, taking her place (sunset comes before twilight, after all).

(Maybe she tried forbidden magic and summoned/unleashed a dark force (Sombra?) and must now find and slay it to repent [I think that's the plot to Earthsea...]. Could set up future stories.)

(Has she learned her lesson after years of wandering the desert or does she seek revenge against Celestia? Who does she hate more, Celestia or herself?)

Sunset is a folk legend: the Flame of the West. Whether good or bad, she's sure to bring trouble if she darkens your doorstep. While she tries to do good by the people, she'll prioritize her best interests and is unafraid of killing. She's taken lives before. Some say she's a hero, others call her a bandit and a thief (April-Jacqueline is especially untrusting).

She's very introverted and a bit socially awkward, preferring the company of her horse Shimmer over any human. Because she still considers Canterlot her home, she feels unwelcome and uncomfortable on Earth. If you invite her out to drink with friends, she'll sit in a corner brooding, trying to bury herself in her hat and poncho, before stepping outside to smoke alone.

Her magic is fire. Unlike other witches, she is unable to perform magic that is untethered to fire. She is an extension of Celestia's rage, her "solar flare." During moments of high stress, excitement, or anger, Sunset will ignite and emit smoke. She carries a revolver, a rifle, and a flaming rapier sword.

(Her horse shares these flame attributes. Sparks will fly from its hooves when it gallops).

Premise(?): Sunset arrives in Ponyville to ask for Thea's help to (find and slay the evil she created [makes more sense but boring]) (to unknowingly aid in her revenge against Celestia [more dramatic, betrayal, more proactive in Sunset's redemption]).

Sunset accidentally falls in love with Thea (she's the one person she can't bring herself to get angry at) (if revenge plot, feels more and more conflict and self-loathing in lying to the only person she's learned to care about. It's about the angst). Sunset finds salvation through love.

Story must end with the two parting ways. Thea must stay and Sunset must go. But their love will endure.

She's GOTTA ride off into the sunset.

wrote a snippet thing abt yr sunset x thea (twilight) art! inspired me a Lot! its my first time writing these guys so im excited with how i did :3

THIS IS REALLY GOOD!

[1mlostnow]

A young man stands in his bedroom. It just so happens that today, the 27th of July, is this young man's birthday. Though it was years ago he was given life, it is only today that he will be given a name.

What will the name of this young man be?

•

•

•

🐸 The Basics :

Name : Evan

Pronouns : He/Him

Age : A minor!!

Gender : Male

Sexuality : Gay

Nationality : American

Star Sign : Leo

MBTI : INTJ-T

I love nicknames, call me whatever.

I’m usually around from 8AM to 1AM CDT.

Music sideblog : @evan-radio

🐛 My Resume :

Loser CEO, the ‘weird kid’ since birth, Professional Ghostbuster, Supervillian, and Midwestern Cowboy (the fun way, not the cop way), Lab Experiment #0727

🪲 My Music :

AJJ, boygenius, Bug Hunter, Cage The Elephant, Car Seat Headrest, Crywank, Lemon Demon, Lord Huron, Los Campesinos!, MCR, Noah Kahan, ODO, Pat The Bunny, Radiohead, Rex Orange County, Seb Lowe, Sleep Token, Tally Hall, Tame Impala, Teen Suicide, TFB, The Smiths, Vundabar, Weezer :/, Will Wood/WWATT, Wingnut Dishwashers Union, and more.

🐢 Tags :

# evan speaks -> I talk. A lot. // # evan rants -> I tend to be very emotional // # evan’s memories -> nostalgia mode // # evan can’t vote -> US politics // # evan draws -> my art // # EvanRadio -> my sideblog for music // # i love my mutuals -> typically multiple mutual appreciation posts per day

🐍 Rules & Boundaries :

I’m a minor!! Don’t be weird!!

Obviously, any form of discrimination is off limits.

Cringe culture is dead, all are welcome, and I’m always open to learning.

Asks and anons are open, notifs are off so feel free to spam, but I can’t promise I’ll see it right away. Absolutely feel free to interact and ask, I will have full convos w/ you through reblogs. I answer DMs on a case-by-case basis. If you are over 18, please do not DM me.

🦎 Fandoms and characters ->

★ Dead Poets Society

★ House MD

★ Supernatural

★ Sherlock

★ Ghostbusters

★ Homestuck

🦖 Incoming fandoms ->

★ Hannibal, Good Omens, Saw

🐊 Backseat Fandoms ->

★ IT, Stranger Things, Over The Garden Wall, Scooby-Doo

🦚 Fandom Graveyard ->

★ Harry Potter, Percy Jackson, Creepypasta

🦜 Kinnies ->

★ Sherlock Holmes (Sherlock)

★ Egon Spengler (Ghostbusters)

★ Castiel (Supernatural)

★ Steven Meeks (Dead Poets Society)

★ Richie Tozier (IT 2017)

★ Rory Keaner (My Babysitter’s A Vampire)

🪛 Other Movies :

The Truman Show, Stand By Me, Velvet Goldmine, Jaws, The Goonies, Breakfast Club

🐉 Other Interests :

Reading, writing, art (drawing, painting, digital and traditional), etymology, science, history, math, forensics, biology, marching band (alto sax), sharks

🔋 Other Facts :

- I love my car like it’s my child #TOMATER SUPREMACY 🦚

- Richard Cameron Defender for life (see here)🐊

- Blog theme changes frequently 🦖

- i LOVE doing little doodles and drawings of my friends 🐢

- I love my mutuals and you guys are my best friends btw 🐍

- More mouse bites!! This vexes me! Medicine drug!! 🦎

- ADHD 🪲

- I’ve got a bad habit of viewing notifications but never responding to them, if this happens please just tag me again ���

🦠 A Note :

I am very indecisive and this post will be edited very often (see counter below)

🧪 Dead Poets Society :

@pingunaa @ghostboyhood @wordssricochet @meekspeaks @poetsinnyc @wilsons-three-legged-siamese @midwest-quill @apparitiongnostic @de4d-poet-kisser @yourfavvgal @asclexe @lv3buzzz

If I forgot someone/if you want to be added just lmk :)) if I forgot you I’m so so sorry

Edited - |||| ||

[bluef00t]

thoughts on the ironhide storyline?

Knights of the Golden Circle: the Atomic Robo arc so peak that it's singled out in the site preview blurb.

Well, I'm assuming you mean that, and there isn't an Ironhide RSA I missed. (I'd read it! I prefer the spinoff genre characters to the real-person teams, which may defeat the purpose of the title Real Science Adventures, but whatever.)

"Thoughts." That's vague. Well, I love the bonkers set-up. There are other arcs that can absolutely only be done once (Ghost of Station X, Savage Sword of Dr. Dinosaur, Vengeful Dead), but only this one has the quality of Brian + Scott leaning in like "Okay. We know. We swore that causality is sacred and there will be NO time shenanigans, and that's STILL true. But just this once we're going to bend our own rule slightly, because we really, really, really want our robot to get to be a cowboy. Thanks for understanding."

The art's fantastic. I'm glad this one made it under the wire for the era of pencil-lined Robo volumes because the subtle textures really complete the grungy dusty look. The colors, too. Robo's electric blue and vril's crystalline pink stand out like alien intrusions in the sepia-toned world. Mwah.

My first time reading, I felt like it was a cop-out on the stable time loop to make Ironhide real in his own right. But since then my opinion has reversed! It cultivates a real air of Old West legend for Robo to be preceded by whispers of a reputation so shrouded in mystery that he doesn't even know it. I now actually think it should've taken Robo until maybe his dozenth public superhuman feat to realize I May Be Contributing To The Legend Somewhat.

Robo's initial interest in Ironhide strikes me as a riff on kids latching onto representation in comics. Especially when characters "like you" are stereotyped or absent, so you imprint on someone who isn't supposed to be like you, but represents your personal experience way more. But I'm probably projecting there.

Paradoxically to my RSA opinions, I like historical cameos in Robo proper. Holliday + Reeves + Robo are a really fun trio. Helsie is a fine "final boss", but I'm glad more time was spent on Caldwell's gang to get our fill of saloon shootouts and train chases first.

As an aside—pulps have a tendency to pick a villain from an "anti-American" political group with little thought put toward their underlying ideologies. (Which is how you get "our blonde superhuman can out-punch the Nazi ubermensch, so there" and incoherent Soviet/Nazi team-ups.) I point this out to say that the writing in Robo is generally better than that. It may tiptoe around historical politics a little (Helsingard is a Nazi collaborator, the Knights used to be Confederates), but the pulpy cyborg plot keeps at least one throughline: these were people in the human trafficking business for power and profit. And of the legends of the old west, Bass Reeves would have some very strong convictions about that.

Honestly a weakness here is that the story gives you a lot of hints in place of explanations and just trusts you'll work it out. Like the FIFTEEN YEAR timeskip. I only NOW, writing this, realized that the dates on the wall (which make no sense as "where am I in history?" guesses) are probably reactor lifespan calculations.

It's a better problem to have than agonizing infodumps or actual plot holes, but in some cases I liked my initial assumptions better than the real answers! Like, I first thought he was using his own heart to power his gadgets, and that's what was killing him so fast. Would've been metal if true. (I guess he did rebuild himself to make that possible later.)

Well, even minus that. It's a tasty cowboy trope for the protagonist to know they're already dying (or I've just listened to Streets of Laredo too many times) and a great time travel trope for the ending to be a foregone conclusion and our protagonist to still fight like hell to the bitter end. Yesssss.

In a way, this is already how readers experience the historical stories, trying to piece together the cost for this preordained victory with scraps of historical knowledge and faith that it will all make sense eventually. But this time Robo's in on it, too.

[storecowboys]

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[senadimell]

Fun fact, I was just reading Judy Heumann’s memoir Being Heumann and one of the things she talks about in the section on the fight to pass the ADA is Republican Senator Justin Dart (wikipedia link). For non-USA folks, the ADA stands for the Americans with Disabilities act (link). It’s civil rights legislation that prohibits discrimination on the basis of disability, especially with regards to employment.

“In 1981, Ronald Reagan appointed a wonderful man named Justin Dart to the newly formed National Council on Disability (NCD).

Justin Dart was a Republican. A successful entrepreneur who’d had polio and used a wheelchair, Justin came from a wealthy Republican family in Chicago. He always wore a cowboy hat and cowboy boots. He was very respectful of everyone and so he was respected by everyone. Justin was zealous about civil rights and had been active on disability rights in Texas and abroad.

On the NCD, one of the first things Justin did was figure out a way to connect with disability activists in the United States. He traveled around the country and met with local disability leaders, getting their feedback, and buy-in, on the creation of a national policy for civil rights for people with disabilities. At that time traveling with a disability was expensive and complicated, so the fact that Justin did this—at his own expense—was extraordinary.

[background of the development of the ADA and the push to oppose it, including court cases]

In the meantime, Justin, Lex, and Bob were building the case for support in Congress, which takes time. In 1986, the NCD officially arrived at the conclusion that disability discrimination was one of the most significant problems faced by disabled people. Backed by testimony from thousands of people, they submitted a report titled Toward Independence to President Reagan, and Congress that recommended passage of a comprehensive law requiring equal opportunity for people with disabilities.

The response from the White House shows just how radical this was.

A key member of the White House staff called Justin.

“What were you folks thinking about with this civil rights thing? the staff person said. “The President won’t touch it with a ten-foot pole. Take it out [of the report]”

Justin refused to back down. He met with the assistant attorney general for civil rights, Bradford Reynolds.

“Bradford,” he said in his characteristically direct way, “I do not believe that Ronald Reagan wants to go down in history as the president who opposed keeping the promise of the Declaration of Independence to thirty-five million Americans with disabilities.”

After a significant silence, Bradford committed to getting the president’s endorsement of the report, and Ronald Reagan did indeed endorse it.”

[... Justin Dart was made co-chair on a congressional task force on the ADA]

Justin took his appointment as an opportunity to unify the disability movement by making diverse appointments to the task force, including people who were HIV-positive. This was controversial.

“We should not have representatives of people with AIDS,” he was told. “People with AIDS will die.” To which Justin responded, “Of course they will die. So will you and I. We’re not into perpetuating paternalism.”

He hit the road again. Again paying out of pocket, Justin reached thousands of people and filed thousands of petitions and statements about people’s experiences of discrimination because of their disability.”

It’s also worth noting that key support for the legislation also came from congresspeople who had disabled loved ones.

Disability doesn’t make you a good or bad person, but it can be a pretty powerful motivator. Now, there’s a lot more to Justin Dart’s life than wealth and disability (at University of Houston in 1956 (which was then a segregated school) he organized “the first student group to oppose racism”—cursory searches don’t result in the name of the group, but it does go to show that his activism wasn’t bound to issues personally hurting him). He became disabled later in life, I believe at 18, due to polio.

Still, I do find it quite interesting that his grandfather’s fortune came from founding the Walgreens drugstore chain.

While the US has a long way to go on making life truly equitable for disabled people, I think it’s important that the ADA was passed due to the work of a generationally wealthy entrepreneur and his ability to pay out of pocket to fund national tours to connect with disabled people and ask what they needed from legislation.

Now, it’s important to recognize that the ADA built on prior legislation. The Section 504 sit-ins (link) were able to transform community organization into legislation through the work of a whole lot of people—the Black Panthers provided hot meals, along with other community groups like the Brick Hut Lesbian Cooperative. Crucially, after governments had starved out sit-ins in multiple locations, the San Fransisco group decided that they had to send a delegation to Washington or else the momentum would peter out and they would be ignored. They were able to find the funding and housing to do that through the financial aid and assistance of the International Association of Machinists, a trade union. Section 504′s passing took immense community organization, and without it, I don’t think the ADA would have been possible.

Still, the ADA itself is pretty landmark legislation, and a large part of its success was due to a very wealthy disabled businessman’s willingness to fight for disability rights and build support for the movement. Do with that info what you will.

I think I should be granted the ability to inflict my multiple health conditions on random billionaires at will.

We’d have a cure for just about everything in under five years.

[futurebird]

A wild west without Indians.

World building is fun, but world building often exposes more about the author's perspective and life experience than they might intend. Never was this made more clear to me, in the most awkward way possible than when I was in a small NYC writer's group where we would meet to discuss our ideas for plots and worlds. On the first meeting we gave short general introductions to our worlds. One world made me a little nervous. This guy had plans for a "wild west" setting, but in a USA with an alternate history. It was "cyberpunk" and there were all kinds of semi-mystical retro-future technologies, like trains that could travel on rows of ceramic discs, but with steam power. He was really in to the alternate tech, and the alternate flora and fauna of this "wild west." All the animals were bigger and more dangerous. The plants could sometimes eat people. It had a lot of neat little details. I decided not to be "all political" and ask about what the US was like in this version of the 1830s. I decided not to ask about escaped slaves, or Native American nations, or the rights of women-- maybe this could just be a fun little western. As the meetings progressed, my questions grew. There were outlaws and stagecoach robberies, there were swaggering sherifs and brothel girls. Everyone was white. I could tell that if I simply asked "why is everyone white" this guy would probably just shut down or get defensive. On the third meeting he explained more about the various monsters of his wild west. He said something like "Up until the technology was invented to use electricity to repel monsters no one could live out west it was basically unpopulated." I couldn't stand it anymore. "So, during the whole period of pre-Columbian history none of the native nations expanded into those regions?" He basically said "exactly!" then went on with some pride an excitement about how this "fixed" the problem of westerns basically being racist. He could tell this kind of story that he seemed to love about "how the west was won" but without the uncomfortable part about it being won from anyone. He didn't seem to see that he'd effectively replaced the western native people's nations with... literal monsters. Monsters that are objectively evil and who have to be driven away or eliminated in the name of progress. This guy wasn't what I'd call overtly racist. Really, I think he wanted to be anything but that. But, his main motivation was telling the kind of westerns he grew up loving, the westerns he stilled loved. The tales of Cowboys and Indians*-- and he had just enough awareness to find the idea of a story about some white men killing off native people abhorrent. So, he erased them from the story. I started pointing out how different the west would have been if no one had ever lived there. How the landscapes might be different having not been put to use by any people for thousands of years, the huge body of words and cultural artifacts that wouldn't exist -- that really, "cowboys" probably wouldn't exist in any recognizable form. But, I think I just confused him more. And around that time my job became rather busy and I didn't make the group meetings for a bit... then decided to just not come anymore. But I think about that world he built often, the world where, in order to avoid the appearance of bigotry he erased the people who might be its victim. I'm certain the worlds that I create say as much about me. I wonder about those things they could be saying that might be so deeply embedded into my world view-- that I can't even see them.

[sunmoonandeddie]

who you are and who you’ve been

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

word count: 8,490

summary: Sometimes love takes a little longer to find you.

warnings: SMUT.  Mention of past abusive relationship, drinking, swearing.

a/n:  Thank you so much to @zeilenkrieg for commissioning this and being so patient while I wrote it!!

“Mama!  Mama!  You here?”

You sighed as you looked up from your coffee, seeing your daughter coming through the living room.  She had on that pair of daisy dukes that she stole from your wardrobe—the ones you used to wear in the heat of summer, a white shirt tied to let the sun on your tummy.  You used to scandalize your own mama with that outfit… 

You had argued with her that she had worn the same kind of outfit back in the seventies, and that vintage was in.  But she liked to wear hers with cowboy boots and you preferred it with a good pair of sneakers.

God, you missed being young…  Your twenties had been absolutely wild, even if they had started out with that horrible pandemic in 2020.

You still washed your hands after touching almost anything.  An instinct that never went away.

That year and the couple years before had been… insane.  But at least it incited real change in the world.  The people had learned from their mistakes, at least for now.

History did have a habit of repeating itself.  Humans were fickle, forgetful creatures like that.

“Yes, honey bun?” You said as you stood up, moving to hug her.

At thirty-seven years old, she was the only good thing that ever came out of your marriage.  That, and knowing how to wash blood out of clothing.

The only problem was that by the time you’d finally left him, you had no friends left.  You were in your forties by then, with no family besides your daughter, and no friends left to speak of.  You hadn’t even had Facebook at the time to keep in touch with old schoolmates from university.  And by then, what was the point?  They were all leading completely different lives and probably hadn’t spared you a thought in at least a decade.

“When’s the last time you left the house?” She asked, her hands on her hips in a stance that reminded you so much of yourself that it scared you.

Now that… that was hard to answer…  You honestly didn’t think you’d be able to remember.  You got practically everything delivered, you worked from home… 

Shaking your thoughts away, you shot her a look.  “I’m fine right where I am.”

“Your doctor called and said you haven’t been taking your medication.”

“Fuckin’ snitch,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes as you turned back to the window, staring down at the now cold coffee.

Josephine rolled her eyes.  “He said you haven’t picked up your refill in over two months.”  She came over to stand next to you, staring out the window with you for a long time.  “Mama, you’ve gotta take your medicine…  You remember what happened last time…”

Ah, yes, the infamous incident.

Which was an incident in a long line of incidents.

There had been a… few times when you’d stopped taking your medication—either intentionally or simply because you had forgotten—and it had resulted in a stay in the psych ward at the local hospital.  It had happened far too many times for your daughter to not be in contact with your doctor so she would be informed if you had stopped getting your refills.

You didn’t blame her, of course.  But it did make you feel like a horrible mother.  One who couldn’t even take care of herself to the point where your daughter had to.

“Yes, I remember last time,” you sighed, staring at a cardinal.  “You know, my mama used to tell me that if you see a cardinal, a loved one who’s passed is visiting you…”

“Mama, I signed you up for a seniors’ social club.”

You blinked.

And then, you blinked again.

You turned to look at your daughter, disbelief written all over your face.  “No the fuck you did not.  I swear to all that is holy, Josephine Ann, if you signed me up for one of those… those… pre-death support groups, I’ll tan your hide!”  You gasped as some of your coffee splashed onto your sweatshirt.  “I brought you into this world, and I sure as hell can take you out of it!”

“You’ve been saying that since I was two,” She said, taking your arm and guiding you to sit down at the kitchen table.  “And it’s not a pre-death support group.  I feel like that’s offensive somewhere so make sure you don’t go running around the group saying that.”  Josephine used a paper napkin to dab at the coffee on your sweatshirt, muttering about throwing it into the wash and getting you a new one.

This was what you meant by your daughter taking care of you.

“Josie, really, I can get my own sweatshirt.”

“Doesn’t mean you gotta,” she said as she came back with a new one, helping you change.

Sometimes you felt like she thought you were a hundred years old.

“Honestly, mama…  I just want you to be happy…  You should have friends.  You shouldn’t be cooped up in this house all day, all the time.”

“What do I need friends for when I’ve got you?  And Danny?” You asked.

But you had been hit with the sudden reality that except for Josephine and her girlfriend, you were alone.  Completely, and utterly, alone.  Hell, they were the only people you had ever invited over to the tiny one bedroom you owned.

Repairmen didn’t count because they were there to do a job, not keep you company.

God, you had wanted more than this, once upon a time.  You had once had dreams, of maybe being a writer and making the New York Times’ Bestsellers List, of a husband who adored you and brought you flowers every Friday, of lazy Sundays eating waffles on the couch with the love of your life.

But life didn’t end up the way you had dreamed it.  There were no book signings or meetings with editors… there were no gardenias… and there was no smell of waffles and syrup.

And you’d made your peace with that.

Sort of.

Josephine’s arms wrapped around you as she rested her head against yours.  Like a mirror of yourself, she was, from her face down to her toes.

Thank god.  She didn’t deserve to have to look in the mirror and see reflections of her father.

“Will you at least try it?” She asked gently, her hand running up and down your arm, her freshly manicured nails tickling your skin.  “It’s not like a pre-death support group, as you call it…  It’s for seniors or people who are approaching seniority and are still active and want to go out and have fun, but maybe need some friends to do it with.  Please?”

And how could you say no when she wanted something so badly?

“Alright,” you said after a moment.  “I’ll go once.  And if it’s horrible, I’m not going back.  And I’m gonna tell Danny how you forced me to meet a bunch of strangers.”

She squealed excitedly, running off to your bedroom and going through your closet.  “Okay, the first thing the group is doing is having a first meeting at a bar, and we’re gonna get you all done up.”

Oh, good.  She was going all in.

“When’s the first meeting?” You asked as you sat on the bed, leaning back on your hands as you watched her.

“Tonight.”

Uh.  What?

“TONIGHT?!” You shouted in shock as you jumped up.  “What?!  You didn’t think to ask me about this a few days ago?!”

She snorted, picking out a few tops that you hadn’t worn in what felt like decades.  “I signed you up this morning, I didn’t know about it a few days ago.”

You watched in exasperation as she threw article after article of clothing onto the bed for you to try on.  “I don’t think I need to wear four pairs of jeans to a bar,” you said, beginning to pick up a few of the pieces.

Josephine gave you a look as she continued.  “Considering how long it’s been since you’ve been out, I think it’s fair that some of these might not fit anymore.”

Well, you had lost some weight…  Not necessarily in a healthy way, but she was right.

In the end, she ended up shoving you into the bathroom and forced you to do a full shower—which meant body and hair.

You hadn’t even gone to such lengths when you were going on your first date with her father.

She spent hours on your hair and makeup, chattering away excitedly about the vacation her and Danny were planning.  A South American cruise.

Josephine had never married, never had kids.  Never wanted to after seeing what her daddy had put you through.  It left a sour taste in her mouth, and even though it was legal now, her and her girlfriend hadn’t breathed a word of a wedding.

Though, you suppose they had a common law marriage at that point, if lesbians were included in it.

“Perfect,” she said as she got you to slip on an old jacket of yours that was a little too big.  “Come on.  I’ll drive you and pick you up.”

“Oh, honestly,” you snorted as you grabbed the purse Josephine had shoved all your things into.  “You’d think I could take an Uber.”

The bar wasn’t what you had expected when she had first told you that’s where the meeting was going to be held.  The last bars you’d been to had practically been nightclubs.

But this was… upscale.  Sophisticated.

Now you understood just why she had put so much work into making you look presentable.

It didn’t look like anyone else was there yet, even though most of the patrons were around your age, so you took a seat at the bar, the group’s site pulled up on your phone.

“What can I get for you, miss?” The bartender asked as he set down a coaster in front of you.

A snort erupts from your throat as you look at him.  “You always call women as old as me miss?”

“Oh, come on, you’re a catch,” he said, shooting you a playful wink.  “My dad’s single, you know.  If you were… looking.”

“Thank you, but I’m not,” you said gently, your cheeks flushed.  “Can I get a Manhattan?”

The bartender nodded, gracefully backing off the subject of you possibly dating his father.  And barely a minute and a half later, there’s a perfectly made Manhattan set on your coaster.

You’d barely taken a sip before someone came up beside you.  “Do you have Macallan’s 18 Year Sherry Oak?” A man asked.  At the bartenders confirmation, he hummed.  “Can I get a double on the rocks?”

The bartender dropped a large ball of ice into a glass before pouring two shots of whiskey over it and handing it to the man.

“Macallan’s, huh?” You said softly, your heart pounding.  Josephine had told you to make friends.  That was the whole point of this, even if the man wasn’t part of the social club you’d been forced into.  “You know your whiskeys.”

The tall man took a seat beside you, his eyes boring into the side of your face.  You hadn’t dared look at him yet.  “I’ve always preferred those who choose a Manhattan over a martini any day.”

“And why is that?” You asked, finally looking up at him.

And oh, you wished you hadn’t.  He was… stunning.  The very definition of male beauty.  His salt and pepper hair reminded you of the photos of the men in the forties…  The 1940s, that is.  Blue eyes so striking that you lost your breath, and broad shoulders that you knew would haunt your dreams.  He was wearing a glove on his left hand for some reason, but you didn’t linger on it too long.

But at least he was at least your age, if not a little older.  You’d die if you’d just sort of flirted with a twenty-something asshole who just bought expensive whiskeys for the sake of buying expensive whiskeys to show that he had money to blow.

“Martini drinkers think they’ll get some kind of award for their choice of drink,” he said, “as though choosing a drink that generally tastes like shit is some kind of accomplishment.  Unless you’re just taking a shot, a drink should taste good.”  He looked you up and down, letting his pretty blues linger on your lips.  There were faint crow feet at the corners of his eyes, but they just seemed to make him even more handsome.  “And a Manhattan doesn’t need a fancy whiskey.  It is steady and sure even with the cheapest five dollar bottle you can get from a gas station.  Someone whose drink of choice is a Manhattan is sure of who they are and what they want.”

You hadn’t felt this hot under a man’s gaze in decades.  “Really?”  Swallowing around the lump in your throat, you took another sip of your drink to buy you a moment.

“Mmm…”  He stole one of the two cherries from your drink, biting it off the stem.  You were transfixed as he slipped the stem into his mouth, sticking his tongue out about thirty seconds later with a perfect cherry stem knot on display.  “Really.  I’m James.  What’s your name?”

Butterflies filled your stomach as you gave him your name.  God, you felt like you were sixteen again and being flirted with for the first time.

His eyes flicked down to your open phone that rested on the bar, the social club’s page still up.  “You’re here for the meeting, too?”

“Um…  Yes,” you said, ducking your head.

“But, doll…”  He leaned towards you, a charming smile on his lips.  “You don’t look a day over thirty-five.  Are you sure you’re a senior?”

Blinking, your mouth hung open in a soft o.  “Are you planning on flirting with every woman in the club like this?”

James looked around dramatically, his gloved hand resting over his heart.  “A club?!  Is that what you call this place?” He asked, mockingly serious.  “Damn, what does that make all those dirty, gross places these young kids go to now?  Brothels?”

For some reason, you felt comfortable enough to shove his shoulder, surprised a little at the feeling of metal under his jacket sleeve.

For the first time, he looked a bit… uncomfortable.  He had flinched a bit, his bright eyes focused surely on his drink.  “Um…”

“You’re the Winter Soldier.  James Barnes,” you said curiously, your head tilting to the side as you looked at him.  “I thought I recognized you from somewhere.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“No.”

“You sure?”

“Mmhm,” you drawled, taking the cherry left in your drink and biting it off in a way that you hoped was alluring.  “Though, I gotta say, it is a bit awkward to meet the man I wrote two papers about in high school.”

Shit, his laugh was beautiful.  Everything about him was beautiful.  Like Apollo or something...

James’s head was thrown back in laughter.  His cheeks were flushed, his eyes squeezed shut.  “Did you actually write two papers about me?” He asked as he tried to catch his breath.  At your nod, he smirked, leaning in close again.  “What did you write about?  How devilishly handsome I am?”

You couldn’t believe you were saying this.  “I mean, I can show you the papers and actually let you read them, but they’re at my place.”

Before he could pick his jaw up off the ground, there were other seniors in the group coming up to greet you.  Your throat was dry as the Sahara as you turned to face them, plastering on a smile as you tried to ignore the heated gaze on your face and the way he licked his lips.

The meeting was… long.  Boring.

Or at least, that’s how it felt when you had James’s dark, sultry eyes on you the entire goddamn time.

Mind fuzzy, you vaguely remembered agreeing to come to the next meeting, and even signing up for a hiking trip they were taking the next weekend.

As you headed outside, you felt Bucky’s hand slip into yours, his long, calloused fingers intertwining with yours.  “So…  Am I gonna get to come over and… read those papers?” He murmured, his lips brushing against your ear.

God, you could practically feel yourself bursting into flames.  You weren’t gonna survive.

Thank god your daughter had forced you into a full shower.

But what about how dirty your house was sure to be?

“Um…  Y-Yeah,” you said as you turned to look at him.  “But, my daughter is gonna be driving me home…  I don’t want her to know I’ve got someone coming over.  She’s nosey.  Real…  Real nosey.”

“Of course, darlin,’” he chuckled.  “Here, why don’t I give you my phone number, and you shoot me a text with your address when you’re ready for me to come over?”

Your head was swirling as you got into your daughter’s car, your phone burning a hole in your purse.

“How was it?” Josephine asked nervously once you got about halfway home.  She couldn’t tell from the look on your face.  “Did you like it?”

“Hm?  Yeah.”  Swallowing, you shot a text to James with your name, telling him you’d text him when it was all clear.

“Are you gonna go again?”

“Yeah.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

She seemed both dissatisfied and pleased by your vague answers.  At least you were getting out of the house.

Once you got home and said goodbye, it was a mad dash to ensure that your house was clean as could be.  Josie had put in some work while you’d been gone, it seemed.  She’d done the dishes and the laundry, as well as dusted.

Thank fuck.

You struggled for a solid twenty minutes to put fresh sheets and pillowcases on the bed, lighting two candles and placing them in a manner that you hoped seemed natural.

“Shit,” you cursed as you smelled under your arms.

Okay, quick body shower.  It seemed all that flirting had made you a tiny bit sweaty.

You turned the water to scalding and scrubbed your body down, exfoliating and using your best scented body wash.

And to be quite frank, you’d never shaved your lady bits as quick as that.

As you texted him your address and that it was safe to come over, you pulled on your clothing from the bar (though, you did put on nicer, matching lingerie underneath.)  By the time he’d gotten there, you’d downed two shots of tequila for a bit of liquid courage and had poured yourself a glass of wine.

“Hey, baby doll,” he said, a crooked grin on his face as you welcomed him inside.  His glove had been abandoned, and black metal fingers lined with gold glittered in the light.  “Woah…  You know, I wasn’t sure how your place was gonna look, but this is very… you.”

“Oh, really?” You asked as you offered him a glass of wine, which he gratefully took.  “How so?”

“I don’t know,” he chuckled as he swirled the deep red liquid in its glass.  “It’s cozy.  Sweet.”

Your throat was dry as you watched his adam’s apple bob as he took a drink.  “Um… so those papers…”

Bucky whispered your name, moving closer to you as he set the wine glass down on the counter.  “Baby girl, I’m not really here for the papers, am I?” He asked as your back hit the island.  “If I am…  If I am, then just tell me, and I’ll stop this.”  His slightly chapped lips ghosted against yours like the tease he was.  “Am I here just for the papers?”

“No,” you breathed out, before pressing your lips against his in a firm kiss at last.  His breath was minty and cool, with just a touch of the wine you’d been sharing, like he’d brushed his teeth before coming over just like you had.

Could it be possible he was just as nervous as you were?

But he was perfect?  Why the hell would he be nervous?

Your thoughts were cut short as he reached down, his hands firmly grabbing your ass as he lifted you up and set you on the counter.  “That’s a good girl,” he growled as he kissed down your neck, his hands working at your blouse.  “Couldn’t stop thinking about you during that whole stupid fucking meeting.  Just wanted to kiss you.  Just wanted to… to touch you.”  He pulled back, kissing you fiercely as his hands moved from your blouse to hold your face again.  “You gonna let me touch you, angel?”

A whine escaped your throat as you nodded, desperately yanking at his shirt.  Once it was off, you didn’t hesitate to run your hands over the broad planes of his chest.  He wasn’t quite as toned as you remembered from when you were younger, when you used to (occasionally) stalk (lightly) his social media accounts.  There’d been so many pictures of him on vacation with the other Avengers… all tanned and toned…

But you liked this better.  There was a softness to him now, a gentleness.

You were so distracted by his physique that you didn’t notice he’d gotten your shirt and bra off until the cold air hit your chest.  “Fuck,” you mumbled as his lips found your neck, trailing down to your breasts.

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been kissed, let alone the last time you’d had such… attention.

Especially when his hands worked your pants off and he stood between your legs, moaning as his fingers tickled your thighs.  “You’re so beautiful,” he said as his lips wrapped around one nipple, suckling at it and teasing until it was diamond hard, and he moved on to the other.

Gotta be fair, after all.

“James…”

“Fuck, baby girl…  Never been with a woman as beautiful as you,” he growled, kissing down your tummy.  “You’re not making it out of here without orgasming at least twice,” he warned jokingly.  He was half bent over in front of the island, watching in wonder as he slowly pulled your silk panties down your legs and revealed your aching core to him.

“I-If you’re not comfortable standing like that, w-we can move somewhere else,” you stammered, suddenly growing self conscious.  What if he thought your pussy was weird?  Granted, you’d overcome thinking that when you were in your early twenties, after learning that each one looked different.

But he was born in the forties.

But that meant he’d probably seen an exponential amount of pussies!

Oh, god, there was no way you’d have anywhere near as much experience as him.  The only person you’d ever been with was your ex husband, and he wasn’t exactly the paradigm of lovers.

“Hey.”

You refocused with a shake of your head, your eyes meeting James’s.  “Yes?”

“You’re in your head,” he said softly, his forehead resting against yours as he slowly ran his fingers along your sensitive folds.  “There’s no need…  It’s just you and me, okay?  And you’re absolutely perfect.”

Your heart was melting inside your chest as you nodded, stealing a tentative kiss.  “Okay…  Just you and me.”

James nipped at your lower lip as he lifted you up, wrapping your legs around his waist.  “Come on.  I don’t want our first time to be on a kitchen counter.  Though I make no promises I won’t help christen every inch of this house after,” he said with a playful growl.

You whispered directions to your bedroom as he held you tight to his chest, his lips finding purchase on your neck.  “And here I thought you said the super soldier serum was wearing off,” you joked.

The man snorted as he pushed you up against the hallway wall.  “Trust me, doll, no lack of super soldier serum is gonna stop me from fucking you right,” he said, his voice husky and deep.

Before you could even open your mouth to reply, two thick fingers were slipping inside of you to slowly tease your cunt, his lips ghosting over yours.  “Does that feel good, sweetheart?”

You couldn’t find it in you to be embarrassed at the whimper that fell from your lips.  “Y-Yes.  Yes.  Please, I need more, James…”

James smiled into the kisses he’d been giving you.  “I’ll give you everything you want.”

“That’s a tall order.”  You threaded your fingers through his hair, shivering at the way his metal fingers dug into the plumpness of your ass.  “You sure you can fill it?”

He doesn’t respond with words, growling as he kisses you fiercely, carrying you to the bedroom.  You don’t have time to think before he’s crawling over you and kissing up your tummy to your lips.  “I need to be inside you,” He whispered as he stroked his length.

“Please…  Don’t wanna wait anymore,” you said.  Vaguely, you’re aware of the twinge in your knees from all the physical activity, and you knew you’d be sore as hell in the morning.

Fucking worth it, though.

James didn’t hesitate to line himself up, the head of his cock pressing against your entrance.  When he finally pushed in, unison moans fill the air.

“I…  I haven’t done this in… so long,” you finally admitted as he slowly pushed in more, taking his time.  Eyes locked, your mouth fell open in a soft ‘o’ as he bottomed out, his hips meeting yours.  “Oh, fuck…”

“Then I better do a real good job fucking you right.”

You weren’t quite sure how long you two lasted, but you do know he manages to pull three orgasms out of you in the space of just a few hours.  There’s snack and water breaks in between rounds, his cool metal hand running up and down your spine to cool you down as you two whisper in the dim light of your desk lamp.

You can’t remember a time that you’d felt so at peace.

A spark had been lit inside your chest as you two laid there in bed, legs intertwined.  Both of you were quiet, his fingers moving to caress your cheek.

There were no words that needed to be said.

His sea blue eyes are sparkling in the dim light, and your hand runs over the sharp stubble that lines his jaw.  It had certainly marked up your neck.

“I had intended on asking you on a date,” he said quietly as his hand found yours, bringing it to his mouth.  Chapped lips kissed each of your knuckles like you were something precious, something to behold.  “I didn’t think the five minutes or so before the meeting counted…  But I’d still like to take you on that date, if you’ll let me.”

“That sounds nice,” you said, a grin twinging at the corners of your lips.

“Yeah?” He asked, sitting up a bit as his fingers brushed against your forehead.

“Yeah.”  A giggle escaped your lips as he playfully tackled you, starting yet another round as his hips rolled down against yours.

The next morning, you woke up alone.  The sheets beside you were mussed, though the space James had been occupying was still a bit warm.

Jazz music floated down the hall, through the cracked door, and you could vaguely hear the clinking of pans.

It took you a minute to gather the will to get yourself out of bed and find your robe, but you finally did it.  As your feet hit the ground and you pushed yourself to a stand, you winced.

You had been right about feeling it in your knees.

You forced yourself to walk smoothly down the hall, despite how much it hurt.  Embarrassing yourself in front of James was the last fucking thing you wanted to do.

He was in the kitchen, standing in front of the stove and humming along with the old jazz song playing on the Bluetooth speaker.  He had a pan full of pancake batter in front of him, a whole stack he’d already made on the side.

Standing in the doorway, you couldn’t help but grin as you watched him.  He’s so handsome… and he seemed so at home in your kitchen.  In your home.

Maybe he’d like to move in…

You shook your head, knowing that it’s already too much.

But the thought was nice.

Him in his pajamas, making coffee…  Him in your shower…  Him in your bed every night…  

Yeah.  It’s a really, really nice thought.

“Hi.”

James jumped, his eyes wide as he whirled round to face you.  “Hi.  I thought I had another thirty minutes before I had to go and wake you up,” he said.  “I’m making pancakes.  For you.  For us.”  His cheeks flushed, turning a bright red as he turned back to the pan to quickly flip the pancake.  “I hope you don’t mind that I used your flour and shit…”

“Oh, no, I…  I almost never cook,” you admitted as you moved over to stand next to him, watching as he made two more pancakes.

As he carried the huge plate to the kitchen island, he teasingly grabbed your ass and squeezed.  “Maybe I’ll have to stay the night more often, if only so you get a homemade breakfast.”

It was sweet, and domestic, and somewhat terrifying.

You hadn’t had a man do anything for you like this since you were in your twenties, when your husband was still sweet and loving.

But even so, this was somehow better than anytime your husband made his famous burritos.

Maybe because James’s cooking actually tasted good.

Your first date was to a movie, a drive in.  Something that’s designed to be vintage but really just looked cheesy as all hell.

But it’s perfect.  Perfect and cheesy and romantic.

Your only complaint was that he didn’t kiss you at the door when he dropped you off.  He pressed his lips to your cheek and whispered a goodnight, and that was it.

It took two more dates within the same week for him to kiss you again.

Bright and early on the next Saturday morning, he knocked on your door, holding a bouquet of flowers.

“I figured I should make up for you having to be up so early with this,” he said as he came inside, kissing you quick before moving to put the flowers in a vase.

At this point, he knew your house almost as well as you did.  It felt good, when you two moved around like you were part of a team.

“Have you gotten your coffee this morning?” You asked, already pouring two travel mugs full of the good stuff.

He came up behind you, kissing your shoulder.  “I have, but you know I’ll never say no to more, doll.”

The rest of the group eyed you curiously as you got out of the same car, a few elbow nudges and whispers in the air.

“At least I know no old ass dickheads are gonna come hit on my girlfriend,” James growled in your ear, his calloused flesh hand squeezing your hip.

“Jamie…,” you whined, cheeks flushed in embarrassment.  No one had ever claimed you in such a way that made you feel so desired and… and worthy.

James made you feel worthy.

Which is something you’d only ever really gotten from your daughter.

It sent a bolt of arousal through you, and you were tempted to drag him back to the car so you could bring him right back home and do something about it.

Also…  Girlfriend?  Were you his girlfriend now?  Officially?

That just made you wanna find somewhere to fuck him even more.

But alas, you pushed the thought away as the lot of you boarded one of those white airport vans that took you out of the city to the closest state park.

“It’s beautiful,” you breathed out as you stared out the window, forehead pressed to the cool glass.  The morning air was a bit chillier than it had been lately, signaling the coming onslaught of winter.

Maybe Bucky would wanna make hot cocoa together… go sledding…  Would him, Josephine, and Danny would all come over for Christmas and New Years and—

Would he even want to meet Josephine?

Would Josie wanna meet him?

She had no idea that you’d found a—A boyfriend?

“Not as beautiful as you,” Bucky murmured against the shell of your ear as his vibranium fingers intertwined with yours and squeezed.  His stubble tickled your neck as he rested his head on your shoulder, watching the passing scenery with you.  “I’m really glad I met you, doll…”

“Me, too,” you said, grinning as you squeezed his hand back and leaned your head against his.

It was strange, falling so hard for someone so quick after everything you’d been through.

But you had a gut feeling.  One that you had never had with your ex husband.

James was a good one.  A really, really good one.

That reminded you.

When were you meant to tell him about all the shit you’d been through?

Despite the amount of time you had spent together already, you hadn’t found the courage for it.

Soon, you decided.

But first, you had to get through the damn hike.

Bucky was glued to your side the entire time, even though you were a lot worse at hiking than he was.  He would hold your hand, guiding you anytime there was a fallen tree or a creek.  His blue eyes were soft as he murmured encouragement, quietly praising your every move.

It was intoxicating.

So when you two fell behind from the group, watching them go around a curve and down a hill, you dragged James behind a large rock formation.

“Baby doll?  Darling, what the hell are you doing?” He laughed as you pressed a fierce kiss to his lips.

“Can’t a girl be spontaneous?” You teased as you dropped to your knees, ignoring the way a twig was poking into your left knee.  “Need to taste you.”

His eyes locked on you as you worked at his jeans, getting them down and off, his nails scratching at your scalp as he got a good grip on your head.  “Fuck…  Are you really this needy for me, angel?  Fuck, you’re so god damn gorgeous…  Look at you.”

Your heart pounded against your rib cage as you finally freed his length, a grin on your lips as you wrapped your hand around him and slowly stroked him.

Bucky’s eyes rolled back as your mouth wrapped around the head of his cock.  “Fucking shit…  Good girl…  Suck me off real good, baby.”

The group probably would notice your absence, not that you particularly cared.

Not when you had your man so weak for you.  And all you’d had to do was get on your knees.

His metal and flesh hands guided you to take more of him in, going at a slow pace so as not to hurt you.  He was so big there was no way you’d get all of him down your throat but what you couldn’t take in your mouth, you pleasured with your hands.

Pleasuring your partner like this was addicting.  You’d never felt the desire—no, the incessant need—to please your ex husband.  All you could think about was getting Bucky off, making him feel so good that he couldn’t see or walk straight.

You choked around him as you took him as deep as possible, your eyes glassy.  When you popped off, you stroked him as you moved down to carefully suck at his balls, fighting a grin as he gasped, his hips stuttering.  Before he could orgasm, you took him back in your mouth, wanting to swallow him down.

“Fuck, fuck—  Oh, shit…  Baby—  I’m gonna…  I’m gonna—”  Bucky broke off with a shout as he came, spilling down your throat.  His large hands stroked your cheeks as you swallowed all of it, barring the little bit that had gotten on your lower lip.  “You did so good, darling,” he cooed as he helped you stand, pressing you against the rock behind him as he kissed you.  “Are you okay?  I didn’t hurt you, right?”

“No, you didn’t,” you said, a faint smile on your lips as you helped him put himself back away.  “You were perfect, James…”

When you finally caught up to the group, a few of the others shot you knowing looks.

But Bucky just had a satisfied smirk on his lips, his hand tightly intertwined with yours even as you flushed in embarrassment.

“Once we get home, it’s your turn,” he whispered in your ear as you all headed back for the van.

Your relationship with James was… wonderful.

It was easy in a way you’d never had before.

Within just two months, he was living at your house almost full time, to the point where you’d been thinking about asking him to move in.

It was like you two were magnets.  Even when you both had work to do, you did it in the same room, slowly gravitating towards each other until you were sitting close, your foot running up his calf.

And he’d gotten you to start writing.

“It’s your dream, doll.  You’re never too old to chase your dreams,” he said one night as you two laid in bed.  His metal fingers were tracing shapes on your spine, a chill from the cracked window ruffling his sweaty hair.  “If you don’t mind me asking…  Why did you stop in the first place?”

Ah.

The conversation you’d been avoiding for so long.

Sitting up, you pressed your hands to your face as you tried to find the words to say.  “Um…  I was married before…  I know you know, but, uh…”  Your fingers fiddled together nervously.  You swallowed around the lump in your throat.  “My husband…  He wasn’t…  He wasn’t nice.  At all.”

Bucky immediately sat up behind you, his vibranium hand resting flat on your back to reassure you that he was there, and to give you something to focus on while you spoke.  He didn’t need to speak for you to know.  He was there and he wasn’t running.

“I married him young… and I had Josephine young…  He’d always been so… possessive, but I just considered it protective,” you continued, pulling strength from his touch to keep on going.  You needed to tell him this.  You needed him to understand.  “Then after Josie was born, he started getting violent.  He’d always been mean, but he’d never hit me until after I gave birth…”

James was tense behind you, slowly scooting over so he could wrap his arms around you, his legs resting on either side of yours as he held you.  He needed you close.  Needed to know you were safe in his arms and that man was long gone.

“Put me in the hospital a few times…  He at least didn’t do it in front of Josie.  That’s the one thing I asked of him that he listened to.”  You couldn’t help but snort as you slowly relaxed back against him.  “She always thought all the bruises and shit was just a side effect of how clumsy I am…  But she came home one day during college, to surprise us…  She walked in on him holding a frying pan above his head, about to swing again.  She jumped in between us and told him if he ever touched me again, she’d kill him.”  You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding as his lips pressed to your bare shoulder.  It was soothing, feeling his skin against yours.  “She moved me out of that house and into her apartment, helped me get the divorce, get back on my feet…”

“Remind me to tell Josephine thank you,” he said quietly as he squeezed you close.  “Thank you for telling me, doll…  I…  I can’t imagine how hard that was…  But he’ll never touch you again.  No one will ever touch you again if you don’t want it.”

“I know.”

He nuzzled into your hair, breathing in the scent of your shampoo.  “I love you.  So much…”

A peace settled over you as you rested your head back against his, allowing yourself to truly fall into him, to relax.  “And I love you…”

After that night, Bucky slept over at your place five to six nights a week, only going home to get more clothes and do his laundry really, even though you’d told him a million times he could do it at your place.

“Wake up, sweetheart,” he murmured in your ear one morning, pushing your hair away from your face.  “Time to get up…  I’ve got breakfast ready for you…”

Groaning, you tried to pull him down for more cuddle time, but he wasn’t having it.  He always woke up before you, too many years a soldier coming into play.  He’d go for a run and make breakfast before waking you up.

“Come on, doll,” he chuckled, pressing a quick kiss to your lips as he got you to sit up, your vision blurry from sleep still.  “Medicine,” he said, pressing your pills into your palm and putting a glass of water in your other. 

Ever since he’d found out about your prescriptions and how you had a hard time remembering to take them, he’d taken it upon himself to make sure you did, every morning and night without fail.

“What’d you make this morning?” You asked sleepily after swallowing your pills, letting him pull you to your feet.  His t-shirt clung to you as you followed him down the hall.  Your hand was tucked into his as you rounded the corner to the kitchen.

What neither of you had heard was the sound of the front door opening.

“Mama?!  What the hell?!” Josephine demanded, standing in the kitchen with Danny right behind her.  “Who the fuck is this?!  What is he doing here?!”

Oh.

Yeah.

You’d neglected to tell your daughter, afraid of how she might take it.

“Hello.  I’m James.  Or Bucky,” your boyfriend said as he held out his hand to you, clearly unashamed and standing his ground even though he was only wearing a pair of pajama pants.

“What the fuck are you doing here?!” Your daughter repeated angrily, ignoring his hand.

“Josie,” Danny began, trying to soothe her.

But your daughter was nothing but determined when she was in her protective mode.

Before you could open your mouth, Bucky supplied, “I’m her boyfriend.”

You felt a flush coming over you as she stared at the two of you, slack-jawed.  “He is,” you said, wrapping both of your arms around his metal one.  You were so nervous, you were shaking.

“When did this happen?!” She demanded, beginning to pace back and forth around the kitchen.

“Um…  The first meeting at the bar… for the club,” you said.  Seeing her so upset made your anxiety spike, and you knew James could feel it, could hear the way your heart rate increased exponentially.

Josephine whirled on you, her eyes—so much like yours—wide with disbelief.  No.  Betrayal.  “You’ve been seeing someone for almost three months and you didn’t tell me?”

“I…”  Tears pricked your eyes as you tightened your grip on Bucky’s arm.  This was not the way you wanted them meeting to go.  “I was scared… of how you’d react…”

At that moment, Bucky turned to meet your eyes, his forehead almost pressing against yours.  “Darling, I feel like this is a conversation you two should have alone, yeah?  So I’m gonna take—Danny, right?  Yeah—Danny to the living room with some coffee so we can get to know each other, okay?”

After a nod, and a squeeze of his hand, he got two mugs of coffee and led your daughter’s girlfriend to the living room.  You could see them sitting down from the corner of your eyes, but you were much too focused on Josephine.

“Mama, I—”

“I love him,” you said, before she could say anything more.

Her eyes were shining, locked on you as she waited for you to speak.  In her gut, she knew this was something you needed to get out.

“I love him more than I’ve ever loved a man.  More than I loved your father,” you whispered, your voice cracking.  “And I know…  I know you’re as protective as you are because you saw how he treated me.  You saw how much I hid that he was hurting you, but Jamie isn’t like that.”  Your fingers fiddled as you tried to keep yourself from pacing.  “He’s kind and adoring and gentle and…  and he loves me.  More than I thought anyone could ever love me.  And I know you feel like you need to take care of me and I am so grateful.  And I still need you.  Everyday.  But Bucky…  I love him.  I love him and he loves me and we take care of each other.”

Josephine reached out, slowly taking your hands in hers.  “He…  He makes you happy?  He takes care of you and you’re safe?” She asked, voice trembling as a few tears rolled down her cheeks.

“Yeah.  He takes real good care of me,” you insisted with a weak laugh.  “And I’ve never been so happy before, honey.  I promise.”

“Okay…,” she said, taking a deep breath.  “I’m still giving him the shovel talk.”

Bucky looked up as Josephine entered the living room, looking much calmer.  He wasn’t sure what you’d said, but it had seemed to placate her for the time being.

“Can we talk outside?” She asked him, keeping her chin high.

God, she looked so much like you.

He nodded stiffly, getting to his feet and leaving his mug behind as he followed her to the front door and out onto the porch.  The former super soldier watched as she paced back and forth, biting her thumb.  “I’ve heard a lot about you,” he said finally, breaking the silence.

Josie stopped in her tracks, listening quietly.

“Your mama loves you something fierce.”  Nervously rubbing his hands on his pajama pants, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so nervous meeting a girl’s family.

Though, he supposed it was a bit different when it was meeting your girlfriend’s daughter.

“And I love her.”

Your daughter, your mini me, stared him directly in the eyes.  “I’m sure she’s told you about my father.  What he did.”

“She did.”

“So you know that if you put one fucking foot out of line, I’ll filet you?”

“I do.”

She eyed him for a long moment.  “What are you in this for?  What’s the long term?” She asked.  “I’ve heard of elders just… settling for someone because they don’t wanna be alone in their twilight years.  Is that what this is?”

Bucky tried really hard not to feel a little bit offended.  He wasn’t that old.  “I’ve been alive since 1917,” he said slowly.  “I have no doubt you know who I am.  But I’ve been alive a hundred and something years, and I’ve never met someone who makes me feel the way your mom does.”  His heart clenched inside his chest as he thought of you, seeing your shy smile in the mornings, how you clung to him when you went out in public, the sound of your voice as you read an excerpt of your writing to him, so nervous about what he would think.  “And I…  I can say that everything I’ve been through…  Everything I’ve ever been through was worth it, because I got to meet her.  And I get to be hers for the years I have left.”

She looked absolutely speechless.  “Good,” she said, coughing to clear her throat.  “Good.  I just…  I can’t see her get hurt again.  Not after everything.”

“Trust me, I don’t plan to,” he said, his mouth dry.  “I…  I actually have something to ask you about…  Been waiting to meet you to talk to you about it…”

Inside, you paced the kitchen and living room, going back and forth and back and forth, sometimes moving to the window to try to hear what they were saying.  But they were keeping it all very hushed.

“It’s gonna be fine, mama,” Danny said, standing up and moving to wrap her arms around you.  “Josie’ll see how much you two love each other, and it’ll be fine.  She’s just gotta have her protective moment.  You know how she is.”

Sniffling, you hugged her tightly.  “I shouldn’t have kept it from her for so long…  I was just so nervous…  They both…  They both mean the world to me.”  You paused, snorting.  “I knew you’d approve of him.  I wasn’t so worried about you.”

“Oh, please, the way that man looked at you?” She said, laughing as she kissed your forehead.  “Mama, there’s no way in hell that man would ever hurt you.  He looks at you like you’re his entire universe.”

Heart warm, you glanced towards the front door, wishing they’d just come inside already.  “I’ve never felt something like this…  But fuck, if the whole shit show that’s my life wasn’t worth it for him…  I wouldn’t change a thing, as long as it means I get to end up with him.”

You broke out of her grasp as the front door opened and they came back inside, looking relaxed and even… happy?  “Well?  You aren’t gonna kill him?” You asked Josie as you moved to James, heart racing.

“Nah…,” she said, giving him what seemed like a secretive smile.  “As far as dads go…  He’d be pretty nice to have.”

“What?” You said, brows furrowing as you looked between the two of them.

Bucky chuckled, winking at Josephine as he led you to the stove where breakfast was still waiting, making you waddle as his arms wrapped around you from behind.  “Don’t worry your pretty head about it, baby doll.  It’s all good.”

You still couldn’t help but feel like the two were planning something as he made your plate for you, cutting up your pancakes and filling up your coffee.  “Why do I feel like you two are gonna end up ganging up on me?”

“Oh, come on, mama,” Josephine said with a smirk on her face.  Her and Danny had made their own plates and joined you and Bucky in the living room.  “How could you ever accuse us of such a thing?”

“Yeah,” James said as he fed you a bite of pancake.  “How could you ever accuse us of such a thing?” He asked, before leaning in and stealing a kiss.  “I love you.”

You’d never felt more relaxed, surrounded by the people you loved the most in the world.  What you’d said to Josephine had been true.

“I love you more,” you said, leaning back in for another kiss.

You’d never been so happy.

[docholligay]

You asked us to remind you about the Tombstone poster in Justified.

Yes! Okay, so, behind the desk of his new boss, we see an old Tombstone poster:

This is where you all expect me to go, "And I love Tombstone!" and you aren't wrong, I do love Tombstone, but let's us talk about the OK Corral, Tombstone, and the American Imagination.

The shootout at the OK Corral is one of the best-known events in US history pre-1900 that fucking no one knows anything about. And you think I'm saying, "Because fictional media has gotten wrong from day one" and that is true! That is absolutely true. Fictional media has shaped so much of what the public consciousness thinks about Wyatt Earp, Doc Holliday, and the OK Corral that I routinely have dudes fight me on facts about the event, despite the fact that my degree is literally in History of the American West, and my special interest in Doc Holliday AS a part of the American West was so deep that my nickname comes from being called, 'That Doc girl' repeatedly.

So what the fuck does that have to do with Justified? Glad you asked! One of the major things people don't realize about the shootout at the OK Corral is it was one of the best documented examples of police brutality and overreach at the time. The cowboys were in fact not known as a ~band of outlaws~ wanted nationwide--this was largely a political and class conflict! One that ended up with the underclass dead in the street, while laws against carrying in town were inconsistently applied based on class factors. There were actually protests IN the streets of Tombstone after the event, PROTESTING what the Earps and Doc did.

What Tombstone (and all the media the poster is meant to stand for) did was turn that overreach of police power into a narrative that people loved. And not because it turned the 'police good' a lot of those narratives did a lot to make you forget that they were the POLICE and turned them instead into simply THE GOOD GUYS. This is what Western narratives do, by and large, though of course the renaissance of the western in the last 20 years has been largely about dismantling those tropes and ideas. It's tipping its hat and saying, "this is a Western narrative, and you will cheer for Raylan as he broadly oversteps the bounds of his police power"

BUT.

That isn't the theatrical poster! I have the theatrical poster and it's this:

Very 90s, not at all stylized like the one in the back of the office. The one in the back of the office I actually do recognize because, me, all the time, and it's a commemorative poster Bill Roman, an artist based out of Tombstone who does their annual Helldorado posters, done the year the movie came out to commemorate it/cash in on people flocking to Tombstone for vacation from the movie. You CANNOT FUCKING FIND IT for sale anymore, I assume because it was on Justified. This art centers the actual DATE and EVENT in its styling, while superimposing the image of the actors in front of it--and when I say the image, I mean the pose itself. If you look, much the styling has been changed, as well as what’s being carried, to more accurately represent what was carried that day:

So we have a circle of event - movie- event but stylized though, and I think that's what its signaling to us here with the inclusion. This is a Western narrative yes, and we will let you cheer for Raylan while he does things he really shouldn't do, but we will never let you forget the actual things that he's doing. We won't let you forget that this is not a story with a simple white hat. We WANT you to be frustrated and confused by parts of what are happening here, and we want you to come away going, "I'm not sure Raylan did the right thing" in the same way that when you recenter the EVENT of Tombstone, heroes are hard to find and cops who overreach are easy. But it's hard to make them the villains, too!

I think maybe what that signals, to me, is a sense of self-awareness with all the things it's about to do and all it will ask of us, while telling us it's aware of what it's doing

Or it's just a neatlooking poster IDK man

[ohheyitsokay]

Alright my sweet! I'm here with a soulmate request.

So I gotta go with Jack, because who doesn't love being soulmates with a secret agent man? As for the trope... There are so many to choose from and I love them all BUT let's go with "the first words you say to your soulmate are somewhere on their skin". I'm a sucker for that one.

Have fun darling!! 🥰🥰

helloo dear heart! have a fanfic about you n your man, you absolute ray of sunshine 💕

hope you enjoy!

warnings:fluff fluff fluff. enough fluff for a really nice waiting room chair.

<<

soulmate requests / follower celebration

>>

It was a weird day, but your dearest friend had insisted.

This will be a fun use of your day off, she promised. And...

If there was anywhere you were going to find your soulmate, it was here. Deep in the bowels of the distillery, there were secrets in each room, behind each lock, and sewn into every suit cuff as far as the eye could see.

Statesman Headquarters.

Sugar, that's supposed to be classified.

The words on your arm near tingled with each step you took, because you were being told with no uncertain terms, that everything you were seeing, hearing, and feeling was absolutely classified. Ginger rolled her eyes as her coworker chattered about privacy and the history of Statesman, smiling good-naturedly.

"I dont think I should be here," you murmured, tilting your head at your friend.

Her hands were stuffed in her lab coat pockets, and she shook her head. When the papers got signed and the tin on your hands was given a final suspicious look, she ushered off with you.

"Listen," she said, her strides long as she took you back through the labyrinth to her lab. "I'm allowed to bring my friend to my coworkers, so they can thank her properly for the best damn cookies they've ever eaten, just like anyone else."

You laughed, feeling lighter. The cookies had started out as an innocent gift for her to take to a holiday party, and according to her, became high demand. As often as time and ingredients allowed, she would beg you for enough to feed a small army, swearing up and down that they were like magic for her mysterious team.

She could be stubborn when she wanted to.

"You just want to show off your work to someone new."

And she winked. "Damn right I do."

After long moments entering passwords, she lead you through a heavy door, adding, "And it wouldnt hurt these guys to know that you're single."

You sputtered, wanting to protest that you were fine waiting for your soulmate, before deciding not to make a fool of yourself. Almost dropping your overfull tin was enough.

There was a handsome man sitting at what you could only assume was her main desk. And by ' a handsome man', you of course meant the most confidant, dreamy, gorgeous all-American gentleman you'd ever seen. When you snuck a glance at your friend, wondering if she was as rosey-eyed as you were, you were shocked to see a blend of annoyance and confusion instead. Any traces of teasing were gone, serious business overriding all of in a single second.

He stood, almost tripping as he looked at you, a little wide-eyed for his reputation. His mustache moved, and time slowed as you held eye contact before-

"No," Ginger's finger blocked your view. "Save the flirting, Whiskey." It was her best no-business tone, and both of you snapped back into reality. "What's going on? Why are you here?"

The man - Agent Whiskey - looked sheepish, hooking one hand in his belt and using the other to scratch the back of his neck.

"Stay here for just a moment?" Your friend looked apologetic and you nodded, nearly collapsing as they stepped away. Moments before, youd been given a brief tour of the government's most elaborate secret, but now, your knees felt weak.

What a weird day.

-

It got weirder.

You hovered nervously as lights blared and displays ran data faster than you could read and agents ran in and out.

Neck craning, searching for Ginger, you watched as she was pulled left and right, setting up a command center right in the conference room next door.

"I'm so sorry," she managed at one point, grabbing a cookie from your box, "You wont be able to leave until this mess gets cleaned up." And you nodded as she was whisked away again.

There was no one you knew in sight except... that Agent Whiskey. Jack someone called him. Hands on his hips he took control, steady and stern, neatly reigning in the chaos.

You told yourself you were watching him for guidance, comfort maybe. Not because he was handsome as a sunrise. Certainly not because his gaze kept meeting yours, no matter the crowds, and each time the clocks seemed to stall. Not because your whole body ached to be close to him and ... and you almost thought he looked like he wanted to be close to you, too.

When he caught you watching him, he'd smile, almost proud, fingers twitching at his side. He kept stepping your way, too, before a call of his name made him turn on his boot-heels, cursing under his breath.

You felt small.

A man they called Tequila kept tapping his hands on the table. You heard protests that the agents in the field needed backuo or at least guidance and headsets were tossed. He and Whiskey shared near-crazed grins and worried glances as the muttered urgently into their communication systems.

The tin of cookies near sang at your side, and you slipped forward, just placing it open between them.

You wanted to help.

And at their big bites and briefly closed eyes, and sagging shoulders, it was your turn to feel proud.

Then you retreated again, savoring a certain cowboy's nod of thanks, accompanied by a wink that warmed you to your toes.

Eventually, things seemed to calm.

There was no cheers, but deep sighs and clumps of people dispersing with claps of hands on backs and shoulders.

Headsets were hung to charge, and you walked back towards Gingers desk, hoping for your friend to reappear.

Instead, when you arrived, Jack was already standing in front of it, holding a box cleaned even of crumbs.

"I can give you the recipe," you offered, feeling suddenly shy. What they did here... it was so intense. All the little texts of thanks Ginger had sent you finally made sense - your cookies were extraordinarily normal, beautiful in their simplicity. Absolutely lifesavers in their chaotic world.

The man in fron of you shook his head, perfect brown hair ruffled slightly, the ends peaking out from beneath his head. Feeling like you already committed to the offer, you tried to reach around him for a wayward stack of sticky notes and a pen.

"It's just flour and butter and brown sugar and -"

"Sugar, that's supposed to be classified."

Oh.

Oh.

He smiled more confidently, the realization in your eyes apparently spurring him on.

"Next time, whaddya say you just show me how it's done?"

Dark eyes, crinkling with genuity and twinkling with mischief.

"Can I? I mean - would you - I mean," He stepped forward, right in front of you, and you squeaked. "Sure."

He was so close and... and you felt like you were missing something.

"...Now?"

Not taking his eyes from yours, his hand found your hand, gently guiding it to his arm, where he had at some point pushed up a single sleeve.

I can give you the recipe.

Your eyes found his again, the confirmation almost moot. He had been pulling you in since the moment you laid eyes on him, he was just... right, he was... you would have to leave a note for Ginger.

It felt like you were the only two in the world that mattered right now. Jack could feel it too - you could see it, even as he smirked.

"Sounds like a mighty fine idea to me."

Now.

<<

taglist: @fangirl-316 @scribbledghost @writeforfandoms @beautyagegoodnesssize @princess76179 @mrsbentallmadge @pbeatriz @saradika @zinzinina

Whiskey taglist: @0celestialbitch0

[shutupanddance]

hi hi!! could i request #7 on your prompt list for a josh lyman x reader?

i may have gotten the number mixed up but it’s the prompt like “i didn’t catch your name” “i didn’t throw it”…maybe they meet at some white house event or something and hit it off? sorry if that doesn’t make any sense haha

i love ur writing!!

Thank you!! And yes BABE I gotchu <3 Sorry for the delay!

tagging @girloncorneliastreet

Everyone knows that, at any Whitehouse event, Josh Lyman will be on the lookout for women. It’s a given.

So when he sees you standing across the room, looking stunning while sipping your drink alone, he makes a beeline to you.

He walks around the edge of the room, careful that you won’t see him yet. He creeps around slowly to your side, trying to make it look like he was just casually wandering by.

”You know, Mr. Lyman,” you say, twirling your drink with your back still to him, “if you wanted to say hello, you could’ve just introduced yourself up front like the rest of the civilized world.”

You take a sip of your drink, and Josh freezes for a moment. He shuffles his feet.

”I’m sorry, have we met?” He asks, and you can tell you’ve got him on the defensive.

You turn to face him now, and smile.

”We’ve never officially met,” you explain. “But I’m a friend of Amy’s.”

He tenses a little more at the mention of his ex. You laugh, and Josh is caught off guard by how beautiful your eyes look as they catch the light.

”Don’t worry, Amy and I aren’t that close. I won’t run you up a flagpole or anything.”

He chuckles, and you can see the tension dissolve from his shoulders as you joke. He steps forward a bit into your space, and offers his hand.

”In that case, want to dance?”

You had been warned by several women about Josh, but you never expected this level of audacity.

”Well, usually men give a little bow and ask a little more politely, but I’m bored, so I’ll stoop below my usual level.”

You swear he almost rolls his eyes when he scoffs, but he’s got a pretty dopey grin on his face, so you’d say you’re winning this so far.

He takes you out onto the dance floor, and you lean back a bit as you settle into the dance so you can see his face.

”Tell me, Mr. Lyman, what do you usually do about now when you get a girl on the dance floor?”

”It’s Josh, first of all. And I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

”Oh, come on!” You say, clicking your tongue at his raised eyebrows and feigned innocence. He caves.

”Well, usually I’d ask what a beautiful woman like you is doing alone at a party like this.”

”Cheesy, but women like a little cheesy.”

This time he really rolls his eyes.

”I’m here because I have nothing better to do,” you volunteer. “And you’re here because you work here. That was easy.”

”Well then,” he continues, “I’d twirl you around,” he does, “strategically, so you’d see a section of the Whitehouse that I happen to know something interesting about.”

”And you’d tell me about it.”

”Yes. For instance, through that door over there, you can see the Roosevelt room. Now, the Roosevelt room-“

”I’m gonna have to stop you there, cowboy. I work at the American History Museum. I was the first curator for the exhibit on the Whitehouse. You can’t tell me anything I don’t know.”

Josh takes that as a personal competition.

You spend two hours that night swapping facts about the Whitehouse, with Josh trying to find something you don’t know, laughing and teasing the whole time. The party is dissipating when he finally gives up.

”Okay, I yield. You’ve heard all my facts.”

You fake a yawn.

”Well then, Josh, I guess our time here is done. I can’t be bothered by boring men.”

You quickly wiggle out of the remaining mass of people, and it takes Josh a minute to regain his senses and realize he’s lost you. Smiling and ignoring your dancing companion shouting “hey!” and “wait!”, you continue to make your way through the party.

You make it to the door before you hear him say:

”I didn’t catch your name!”

You take a look over your shoulder, and once again, Josh is starstruck with the way the light dances in your eyes.

”I didn’t throw it!” You laugh, and disappear from sight.

For three days, the security guards at the Museum of American History really really hate Josh Lyman. He sneaks around the museum, during different employee shifts each time, searching for something. And the guards aren’t a fan. The Secret Service insists he’s harmless, but they’re still not too keen on him. So they call you in.

He’s staring at Dorothy’s ruby slippers when he hears a familiar voice behind him.

”Well, if it isn’t Josh Lyman. Fancy meeting you here.”

[im-just-a-simp-le-whore]

About me and a DNI

Also everything is in bold and colored because I have a hard time reading it otherwise!

I'm Bisexual, Nonbinary and according to the government: crippled

I have a heart defect specifically! I'm open to questions if anyones curious 🥰

My favoritism of characters can change from day to day to year to year, its dependent on how well I'm doing mentally... lol. Also!!!!! Just because I'm not obsessing over a certain character at the moment does not mean I don't want to talk about them!!!!

When I reblog, I typically say what ever I'm thinking in the tags! If I don't reblog your work, its nothing personal, I do try to reblog everything I like to help boost others but sometimes I'm sleepy and forget!

Here's some things about my blog

My ask box is always open!! Purely for chatting purposes. I've never gotten a request and even if I did idk how to respond to one so, not open for requests sorry :(

Unless its crack headcannon stuff, that I'm always down for!

Once I can like mentally figure out how I would go about one, I'll open it up for requests. If anyone would like to send me tips on how to go about requests please do

I Interact/reblog with dark content/Dead Dove Not Eat, if that isn't for you I wouldn't recommend following

I don't interact with shipping content to any degree, whether it's healthy/unhealthy, legal/illegal, don't care. Not my cup of tea, given what I've seen go down with MHA, Voltron, and somewhat in FairyTail, I'm fucking scared of it. Please don't talk to me about it or tag me in or anything of the sort, I'll just block you. I don't mind people asking why I'm anti shipping, I'll explain if they would like me to. Same thing with DDLG stuff, I will block you on site, do not bring that shit to my blog. Totally cool with non-sexual age regression btw!!!!

Do Not Interact if:

- you're homophobic

- you're transphobic

- you're racist

- overall an asshole

- any variant of Nazi

- like ddlg or any variant

- that one bitch audrie who likes to stalk me

Here's some media I like, I tried to list off everything I've watched

Animes!

HxH, OHSHC, AOT, Soul Eater, FMAB,Cowboy Bebop, FairyTail, Panty and Stock With Garterbelt, Death Parade, Assassination Classroom, Demon Slayer, Durarara, Hetalia, Noragami, MHA/BNHA, The Promised Neverland, Yuri on Ice, Future Diary, Death Note, Black Butler, Beastars, Seven Deadly Sins, Way of the house Husband

TV shows!

Supernatural season 1-7, Criminal Minds, Arcane, Adventure Time, Big Time Rush, Victorious, ICarly, Love Death and Robots, Stranger Things, The Walking Dead, Jane the Virgin, My Babysitters a Vampire, ATypical, Miraculous Ladybug, Netflix's live action Cowboy Bebop, Stranger Things, The Umbrella Academy

Movies!

The black phone, Deadpool 1&2, both of the SDS movies, the cowboy Bebop movie, Shrek 1-3 and the musical, The Giver, Monster House, American History X, Inside, Stand By Me, Grease!, Rocky Horror Picture Show,

The whole point of my tumblr is for me to feel safe, if you make me feel unsafe I will block you with no hesitation

Otherwise! Have a nice time while you're here!💙

[pop-punklouis]

top five HL fanfic!!!!

biiiiitch you all know how hard it is for me to choose only 5. but sigh FINE here’s my all-time favorite list that isn’t 5 sorry i can’t choose 😔:

• Here in the Afterglow (89k)

“If you hadn’t noticed, I don’t have many friends,” Louis whispers, the blossom of insecurity in his stomach unfurling and clawing its way into his throat.

Harry is silent for a long time, and then he speaks; a soft, slow uncurl that makes Louis’ stomach shake. “I’ll be your friend.” 1970’s AU. In a tiny town in Idaho, Louis’ life is changed forever by the arrival of a curious stranger.

• Coax the Cold (86k)

England, 1897.

English Professor Louis Tomlinson’s passion for the occult has been a source of mockery and derision for most of his life. When he hears whispers of a travelling freak show newly established in London claiming the existence of a monstrous sea hybrid, half-man, half-fish, Louis sees it as his ticket to credibility amongst his peers. The summer he spends undercover working on the show, however, gives him much more than that.

• Wild and Unruly (124k)

Harry is a cowboy sitting on the biggest oil reservoir in Wyoming, and Louis is the paralegal assigned to pressure him into selling his land.

• This Wicked Game (70k)

An AU in which The Bachelor is gay, Louis is a contestant, Harry is the bachelor, everyone drinks a lot of champagne, the entire world gets to watch them fall in love, and no one plays by the rules.

• Love is a Rebellious Bird (135k)

AU in which the boys still make music. Louis is the concertmaster of the London Symphony Orchestra, Harry is the New! and Exciting! interim conductor/ex-cello prodigy who "has made Mozart cool again" according to Esquire Magazine (Louis hates him immediately, which is definitely why he internet stalked him in his dark bedroom late at night that one time), and Niall is the best. Zayn and Liam are around too.

• Fixated On One Star (53k)

Louis is just a boy with the world on his shoulders, and Harry's just a boy from the wrong side of the galaxy. A little thing like love doesn't stand a chance against a thousand years of war, at least until the right two come along to break the mold.

Or: space Romeo and Juliet AU

• Finding Lou (60k)

Louis is the nomadic stranger who wanders into Harry’s bookstore. Harry is the skeptic who falls for him.

• California Sold

Notoriously closeted boyband member Harry Styles is famous on a global scale, meanwhile Louis, as his best friend, is back home in Manchester, living the typical life of a 24 year old. When Harry needs Louis with him in LA, a publicity stunt gone wrong changes their friendship forever.

A fake-relationship AU between two lifelong best friends.

• Empty Skies (134k)

For three years, Harry has been running from his past. Now, he is moving to London and pledges to fulfil his only dream -- making it big in the music industry. Not everyone has a place, though, and the competition is tough. As is his past catching up on him.

Louis is part of the biggest boy band of the world, and getting there had meant a lot of hard work, as well as sacrificing parts of his heart and soul. He's still happy. Maybe not as happy as he could be, but who is he to complain?

• And Then a Bit (159k)

“We’d like to give the fans what they want.” Magee states, placing his hand on the table in front of him and leaning forward. “We want to give them Larry Stylinson.”

Or, take a parallel universe where Louis and Harry were never together, mix in a two year hiatus and an impending comeback, pour in a dash of lost fans, two tablespoons of strong friendship and a Modest! employee with a good idea. Add a squeeze of pretending to be a couple, lots of kisses and a tattoo or two. Stir. Serve: the mother of all publicity stunts. (aka Harry and Louis fake a relationship for publicity. Eventually it becomes a lot less fake and a lot more real.)

• Dream Awake (31k)

The sun leaks through the tent wall behind him the way it leaks through eyelids, bathing the boy in an ethereal half-light as he croons. The crowd is mesmerized. Louis is mesmerized. This is the most important person in the world, he thinks wildly, and then can't figure out how to take it back.

On a hazy day in August, Louis sees Harry perform at a music festival as an unsigned act and convinces him to spend the rest of the weekend in his company. Harry gets signed; life changes. They never really wake up from the dream.

• Say You’ll Remember (93.5k)

au. louis and harry are best mates that are only half aware that they're also soulmates. alternatively, louis goes to university and harry travels the world, and they always manage to find their way back to each other.

takes place over nine years, in which they love and hurt, make mistakes and learn, and above all, grow.

• Outwit, Outplay, Outlast (61k)

Survivor All-Stars AU in which Harry and Louis are just in this game to win the million dollars, but they end up with something better.

Featuring Harry's yellow swim shorts, Louis in snapbacks, and OT5 shenanigans.

• Nothing Else But Us Right Here (35k)

Louis sighs and gives himself a mental pep talk as he smooths his jumper down over his hips. He can do this. He can resist the draw of Harry Styles, because he is a responsible, mature adult, and as much as he wants to tangle his fingers in that mess of hair and map those ridiculous tattoos with his tongue, he does not want to get his daughter’s favorite teacher fired.

• Wings to Break Your Fall (103k)

strip club AU. Harry’s work and family are keeping him busy. He really isn’t looking for a relationship, doesn’t want one. He just wants Louis. Problem is, Louis has other plans.

• Leave it to the Breeze (81k)

Louis couldn’t be prouder of his bake, but there’s something—there’s something. Something about Harry Styles and the earnest way he measures, pours, mixes, scrapes. Something about the tip of his tongue poking out of his mouth as he knocks the air out of his batter.

or a great british bake off au in which louis cares about winning and winning only, harry is made of sunshine and rainbow sprinkles, and niall sticks his nose into other people's business. also featuring liam as louis's best friend-slash-concerned mother, and zayn as a macaron connoisseur.

• You Come Beating Like Moth’s Wings (81k)

Harry smiles. He's only known Louis for about two hours, knows nothing about him past his first name, but he's nice and sarcastic and helpful and so, so pretty. And Harry's still got a few days left in Barcelona, and he thinks he wouldn't mind spending them with Louis.

Also known as, Harry takes the summer before uni to travel Europe and meets Louis in Barcelona, and they end up traveling together.

• Hold Me Closer (36.5k)

Louis Tomlinson is one of the most promising dancers of the English National Ballet, on track to become the youngest principal dancer in the company's history. That is, until forces conspire to significantly complicate his life, including: a surprise ballet, an unfairly attractive guest choreographer, and being pushed into a rivalry with his best mate. Featuring lots of wine, dancing, pining, and a happy ending.

• In Vogue (121k)

Fashion AU. Louis is the editor in chief of Vogue magazine, and Harry's running British GQ. Featuring Zayn as the crazy creative director and Louis' confidant, Liam as the sports writer that gets to sit front row at fashion week and DJ Neil as the only sane person in the whole story. (There are no skinny jeans in this fic)

• These Things Will Never Change for Us at All (1.5k)

The room falls silent as they stay wrapped up in each other. Harry can feel Louis’ soft breaths on his neck, and he almost thinks Louis’ fallen asleep until he says softly, “How did you know you were in love with me?”

Or, Harry and Louis look back on five years.

• A Runaway American Dream (15k)

AU. they take route 66 with only each other and their secrets.

• Things Have Gotten Closer to the Sun (49k)

it’s strange, making the choice to face his past—it almost feels like he’s heading for the sun straight on, like he’s screaming come on and burn me, i deserve it.

when a solar flare is announced to end the world in twelve days, harry reunites with the people that he used to know better than the back of his own hand.

• Here (in your arms) (60k)

the one where Louis is a successful real estate agent and Harry works at a retirement home. They’ve never had a real home. Up until now.

(Starring Liam Payne as a fitness trainer, Zayn as an artist, and Niall, who busks.)

• These Inconvenient Fireworks (190k)

Future AU in which nobody tries out for X Factor but the boys end up finding one other eventually anyway. Louis is a jaded bastard who owns a cat named Duchess and teaches drama to teenagers, Harry is an idealistic aspiring photographer/part-time footy coach, Zayn teaches English lit and wears leather jackets, Liam saves people from burning buildings, and Niall is Niall.

• In Dreams (23k)

AU. When Harry moves to a new city, his new flat come with a number of sweet, anonymous gifts and surprises that brighten his days. Could it be a friendly ghost? Another friendly presence in his new building is his tattooed neighbor, Louis, who seems determined to put a smile back on his face.

• My Heart is Breathing for this Moment in Time (160k)

When Louis first saw Harry at the 2010 X Factor Auditions, he thought he was watching a peculiarly special stranger. But Harry has known Louis ever since he was five years old. Because Louis has a rare genetic disorder that causes him to Time Travel to important moments in his past and in his future - and to Harry, always to Harry. When they’re put into a band together, it seems like everything Harry has been waiting and wishing for has finally come true. Except for the small fact that Louis doesn’t know that Harry is in love with him- that Harry’s always been in love with him. Fate, it would seem, is just getting started.

A story about growing up and growing together, and the impossible love that makes it all worthwhile.

• Paint the Sky with Stars (63k)

On 10 April 1912, Harry Styles boards the finest ship the world has ever seen. Still grieving the death of their mother, he and his sister are being sent to America to live with a callous uncle who cares more about his business connections than family. Harry prepares himself for a long, disappointing voyage alone in his stateroom. Louis Tomlinson has borrowed and saved, and finally has enough to purchase a Third Class ticket to America. With all of his belongings in a single ruck sack, he boards the Titanic filled with hope for a brighter future. Never one to sit still, he can’t resist exploring the massive ship, and soon goes sneaking into First Class in a stolen steward’s uniform. By a twist of fate, Louis finds himself in Harry’s stateroom, entranced by the most attractive man he’s ever laid eyes on. He keeps returning day after day, even if he doesn’t understand what it is about Harry that continues pulling him in. That’s all right; Louis has a week to figure it out, and Harry is plenty willing to help. Except they don’t have a week. They have four days. Because on 15 April, their entire world will be turned upside down.

Or, the historically accurate Titanic AU with a happy ending.

• Through Eerie Chaos (102k)

For as long as anyone can remember, Old Hillsbridge Manor has always been believed to be haunted. Everyone in the village agrees and keeps a respectful, fearful, distance. New in town after a bad breakup and an internship that led to disappointment rather than a permanent job, Harry Styles figures taking pictures of the decrepit building could be a great new creative project. Or at least a much-needed distraction while he searches for a job and crashes at his parents’ new house. No one warned him about the apparitions though; about the music, the laughter, the people who flicker and vanish when you call after them, the echoes of a past that should be long gone… Harry has never believed in spirits but even he can admit that there’s something weird going on. What starts as mere curiosity evolves into a full-blown investigation and soon enough, Harry finds himself making friends with an aristocrat from the 1920s and struggling with finding the best way to tell him that he’s dead.

The Ghost Hunter AU where Niall lives to prove ghosts are real, Zayn is a skeptical librarian and Harry gets caught up in a century-old mystery and catches feeling in the process.

[storecowboys]

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[bunnie-the-lighthouse]

𝑀𝒾 𝐹𝓁𝑜𝓇, 𝑀𝒾 𝒜𝓂𝑜𝓇

Pairing: ATEEZ Jung Woo-Young & Reader

Warnings: Cursing & It’s Horrendously Long

Inspiration: My Friend & I Being Crackheads

Type: Fluff

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Ay man, how’s it going?” Woo-Young exclaimed while wrapping his arm around his friend’s shoulder -- San. “Oh, the ol’mighty Jung Woo-Young, the Dancing Champion,” he laughed as the younger smirked. “Are you ready for the Hípica*?” Woo-Young questioned while leaning onto his left hip.

“Ideay, el mae está bien preparado*,” San chuckled while looking at Woo-Young’s attire. The young one had a cotona*, ripped blue jeans with a leather belt, cowboy boots, and finally, a white panamanian hat* -- to stand out from the crowd. “Of course! You gotta be prepared for those events.. Plus, you gotta attract the ladies, man!” he laughed as San grinned and shook his head.

“Do you think there’ll be pretty ladies?” Woo-Young questioned as San shrugged, “Every Hípica is basically the same each year,” he trailed off while brushing his horse’s coat. “Well, up to a point that’s true, but I’m sure that this year’s Hípica will be great,” the younger comforted.

By ten in the morning, Woo-Young and San were at the Hípica, getting prepared for the races and championships. The Dancing Champion petted his horse, an onyx black stallion who adopted the name of ‘Sombra*’.

“Woo-Young-Ah! ¡Los otros ya están aquí*!” San called as the Champion turned around and saw the other ATEEZ members, Seong-Hwa already on his snow white stallion ‘Maltese’, Yeo-Sang on his pinto black and white stallion ‘Gallopinto*’, and finally -- San on his dark brown mare, ‘Gitana*’.

Sombra, Maltese, Gallopinto, and Gitana were the four horses that would compete in the Hípica as the other members were there for support or to help out in their family businesses. For some context, Hípicas are basically small equestrian festivals where people around the country would meet up in one city and showcase their horses’ skills.

The first few races went by, and with Maltese’s agility skills, ATEEZ were able to win against the others. Gallopinto was a master at jumping over fences while Gitana was fast and resistant, being able to dash long distances without getting exhausted.

Now, while the three other members were resting, it was now Dancing Champion Woo-Young’s turn. He clicked his tongue, guiding Sombra as the speakers started playing some tunes, making Sombra immediately react and start dancing (aka trotting in synchronization and order).

The crowd cheered loudly as only Sombra’s moves were truly aweing -- overshadowing the other horses that were partaking in the same competition. And, as the song was ending, Woo-Young got off his horse and danced with the music, moving his hips and gracefully yet sharply executing other moves.

As children ran by to go and play, the ATEEZ boys were eating under the outdoor tent, taking a break while drinking some Cacao* and Chicha*. "Ahh.. Now we have the rest of the day to have fun," Woo-Young sighed out in relief as the heat was starting to get a bit intrusive. After all, it was around one or two in the afternoon. "Indeed, but I think I may be helping my family during the evening since, you know, more people come in order to eat," Hong-Joong chuckled.

The boys then continued on speaking while Woo-Young was distracted by something. You. You were wearing a red güipil* that revealed your shoulders, ripped jeans, and also cowboy shoes. Your hair was styled into a waterfall braid together with some sacuanjoche flowers* that were embedded into the braid.

One of the flowers then fell down, and unknowingly, you walked away into a crowd. Woo-Young placed down his cups and ran towards the dirt street, reaching down to pick up the lone flower. He then looked at the crowd to see if he could find you again..

“Mae, you’ve been holding onto that flower for ages now,” Yeo-Sang stated as Woo-Young twirled the flower, “Of course, because I am searching for the owner of it,” he replied while looking lovestruck.

It was now around five in the evening, the sun setting, coloring the sky with hues of orange, purples, pinks, reds, and blues. Woo-Young then saw you again, helping your family sell the Fritangas* that you guys would make.

The speakers then started playing a cumbión*, making people leave their seats and get into the center of the streets to start dancing. This made Woo-Young have an idea. A perfect one. He took this as an opportunity to stride his way towards the small restaurant.

“Buenas*,” he called as you looked at him with doe eyes, “Buenas, como le puedo servir*?” you asked as he then pulled out the flower. “Is this yours?” he asked as your eyes widened. “Ah!.. Thank you so much for finding it,” you smiled, reaching out to hold it.

He then did a soft, graceful turn, beginning his dance slowly, catching you off guard. “Come! It’s time to celebrate! Don’t you want your flower back?” he asked while his hand was out for you to hold. You chuckled at his smoothness, walking towards him and holding onto his hand, following him into the dancing mob.

You guys danced to the music, feeling it. And as he twirled you, he placed the flower back, snuggling it with the other sacuanjoches. As you then turned back to face him, he smiled lovingly, “Eres como una flor bella, mi amor,*” he whispered, flustering you.

“Gracias*.. I still haven’t caught your name,” you said as he chuckles, “The name’s Jung Woo-Young,” he responded as the song was coming to an end. “(Y/N). I think you should know who my brother is,” you stated as he then held onto your waist and pulled you close, as an ending pose.

You and Woo-Young were close to each other, your lips almost touching as you both could agree that you both fell in love with each other. At least, have a crush. “¡Ayyyy! ¿Qué estás fucking haciendo?*” Hong-Joong yelled as he held onto your shoulders and pulled you away from Woo-Young.

“This is my brother,” you ended as Woo-Young did a small pout. “Hyung!~” he then whined as Hong-Joong looked at him disgusted. “No! I’m not letting you date my sister,” he said as Woo-Young then smirked and winked at you.

“Ma! We have to be care-- Hey!” Hong-Joong exclaimed as Woo-Young snatched you from Hong-Joong, holding your hand tightly as you laughed and followed him. He then whistled as Sombra trotted towards you guys.

He helped you up and later followed, clicking his tongue, making the horse catch the sign and start galloping. “Jung Woo-Young!--” Hong-Joong yelled loudly as Woo-Young took you away from the Hípica.

“Sorry for my actions, mi flor.. But I now find myself incapable of living without you. You make me want to pinch myself in order to make sure that I am not dreaming.. So, mi flor. Where do you wanna head to?”..

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Hey fellas, it’s time for me to give y’all a Spanish Vocabulary Glossary thing because yes, I speak fluent Spanish. 

Hípica: Equestrianism. Basically Horse Competitions And Stuff Like That. 

“Ideay, el mae esta bien preparado”:

This needs some information. “Ideay” is colloquial, it can mean: “Seriously?”, “What next?”, “Oh well,” and many others.

In this context, the translation would be: “Seriously?! This dude is well prepared”. (Mae = Dude/Bro <- Between Friends Or Relatives [If Those Relatives Accept It])

Cotona: It’s Literal Translation Is Cotton Shirt. However, It Is A Sort Of National/Typical Dressing In Some Latin American Countries. (Examples: Facebook.com)

Panamanian Hat: (According To Wikipedia, Because I Am Not Panamanian But I Had A Friend Who Lived There,) A Panama hat, also known as an Ecuadorian hat or a toquilla straw hat, is a traditional brimmed straw hat of Ecuadorian origin. (Examples & History: Ultrafino.com)

Sombra: Shadow

“¡Los otros ya están aqui!”: “The others are here!” 

Gallopinto: A Typical Food In Some Latin American Countries. As For Some Latin American Countries, It Is Basically Red Beans And White Rice Cooked Together. The Literal Translation Is Spotted Rooster. (Example & History: Wikipedia.com)

Gítana: Literal Translation Is Gypsy (To Me, The Spanish Meaning Is Better lol). 

Cacao: Delicious Drink. It Is Basically Made With White Rice, Milk, Cacao Seeds. You Can Add Spices Or Sugar To Your Taste. It’s Absolutely Amazing. (Example & History: Nicaraguanrecipes.com)

Chicha: Another Delicious Drink. It Is Basically Dried Maize/Corn Kernels. Sounds Weird, But It Is Good! (Example (You’ll Have To Scroll Down): Eater.com)

Güipil: It’s A Typical/Traditional Tunic/Garment That Is Used By Women In Latin America For Dancing Traditional Dances. It Is Also Made Of Cotton. (Example: Petersalgado.blogspot.com)

Sacuanjoche Flowers: It’s The National Flower For Nicaragua! A Beautiful One. (Examples & History: Granpacifica.com)

Fritangas: It’s A Type Of Typical Food In Nicaragua, It Contains Barbecued Beef, Pork, Tajadas (Friend Plantains), Yucca Roots, And Others. (Examples & History: Theculturetrip.com)

Cumbión: A Fuckin’ Good Shit Ass Song Bro. It Can Be A Latin American Or Caribbean Song That Fucking Slaps -- Makes You Wanna Move And Dance. 

The Song I Placed Is Titled “No Le Pegues A La Negra” Which Translates To “Don’t Hit/Beat The Black Girl”. The Song Is Basically Trying To Talk About How Natives And Africans (Specifically In The Caribbean) Felt About Colonization In The 1600s. <- I’m A Sort Of History Geek)

“Buenas”:

This One Needs Some Explanation. Some United State Students May Confuse This As “Goods” Or Like “Those Are Good (When The Context Is For Example: “Esas Son Buenas”). However, “Buenas” Can Also Work As A Greeting! “Buenas” Can Be Like “Hello” Or “Hi”. It Is Generally Used When Entering Shops Or Friends/Relatives’ Houses. 

“Buenas, como le puedo servir?”: “Hello, how can I serve you?”

“Eres como una flor bella, mi amor,”: “You are like a beautiful flower, my love,” 

“Gracias”: “Thanks” / “Thank you” (Hehehe.. Thanxx)

“¡Ayyyy! ¿Qué estás fucking haciendo?”: “Hey! What in the fuck are you doing?” 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

And that’s it! Now you understand the story better lol. (Or maybe you already did)

As obvious as it is, yes, I know how to speak Spanish and I was born in a Latin American Country -- Granted, I exposed it and it’s Nicaragua. 

Anyway, I think I won’t ramble much since this is long...

But! Thanks so much for reading and the support! Have a great day/night!

[docholligay]

Holligay Loves Western Movies!

Ah, the Western, my love!

I was first captured by the Western when I was a small thing, only about eight years old, and my Mom was watching Tombstone. It's strange to say that a Val Kilmer vehicle changed the course of my life, but it did. I suppose anything can.

The Western has been a lot of things over the course of its tenure in American media, and I think maybe the greatest thing about it is that it can reflect so much of what it’s needed to be over the years. Cowboys and the American West are such an American part of world history--you can find bits and pieces of similar cultural touchpoints in a handful of places, most notably the Australian Outback, but they are rare indeed--the it almost becomes part of the defining aspect of America. But you didn’t ask me about American history, you asked me about Westerns, so yes, continue.

The Western movie is allowed to show all our virtues and all our ills. In early days, you had these lovely white hat/black hat Westerns* that existed almost in the same way as pantomimes, or opera, these things that intentionally sketched in broad strokes and provided some of the tropes we know and associate with Westerns even today. Then we moved to, especially post WW2, this idea of the hero charging in and saving the day when a town could not save themselves. In the 80s and 90s they very much became simple action movies with quippy heroes and villains, reflective of American prosperity but also thoughtlessness. In the last twenty years, you’ve had this idea of Westerns as meditations on morality, probably best represented in Unforgiven, which I think does a better job than most.

What I love the most about Westerns is because the reflect current American anxieties, you can watch how they change. The old Magnificent Seven is about Americans going into a foreign land to essentially protect the people from themselves, which reflected all the feelings about Communism and American responsibility. The new one is about the unchecked power of billionaires and the ability to hire their own military, be their own law, and how little we can do in the face of it. They are VASTLY different movies, because what Americans fear, what we hope to stand in the face of, is so different that you could not possibly make the same movie. I think the old Magnificent Seven really doesn’t connect or hold up with modern audiences because we cannot LIVE in 1960, we don’t know what it was to be a person then.

I would make a similar argument about the old and new True Grit, except it’s quite simply that the old True Grit, uh, sucks.

And that is what I think is great about the American Western, is you can look at them over a timeline and take the goddamn temperature of America. Even the relative dearth of Westerns being made now speaks to an American anxiety about OUR OWN IDENTITY, and what it now means to be an American in this global culture. How do we grapple with the American West now? Is there a way forward? I would argue there is, but you have to have some discernment, and this essay is about to go vastly off the rails and I’m gonna start ranting about whipping boys and King Leopold, so I’ll withhold, but I find the Western both enjoyable, and fascinating.

*This is actually where the term comes from. Hackers picked it up, but it comes from the very old westerns where the hero always wore a white hat, and the villain a black. It was then actually picked up by lawyers. I have no idea how hackers got to be the defining aspect of this, but they did not invent shit.