guessimherenowtoo

[guessimherenowtoo]

two sane bitches ❤️

[guessimherenowtoo]

Song: ‘A Thing Called Love’ by Johnny Cash (from his 1972 album A Thing Called Love)

[guessimherenowtoo]

CALLUM TURNER as Major John 'Bucky' Egan

MASTERS OF THE AIR Part Six

[guessimherenowtoo]

Austin Butler as Elvis Presley photographed by Hugh Stewart

[guessimherenowtoo]

[guessimherenowtoo]

My heart couldn't take another pilot in the potato field.

MASTERS OF THE AIR Part Four

[guessimherenowtoo]

[guessimherenowtoo]

Song: ‘A Thing Called Love’ by Johnny Cash (from his 1972 album A Thing Called Love)

[guessimherenowtoo]

Song: ‘A Thing Called Love’ by Johnny Cash (from his 1972 album A Thing Called Love)

[guessimherenowtoo]

I went from having no songs for an edit to being inspired by two, one kind of sweet/silly and one kind of sad. You’re getting the silly one first because it was easier lol

Anybody got any songs they think would make a particularly good fanvid? I’m in the mood to cut something together but I don’t have any songs picked out right off the top of my head

[guessimherenowtoo]

Austin Butler photographed by Collier Schorr, 2022. Austin wears Keith Haring “Heritage of Pride” shirt

[guessimherenowtoo]

they literally both drank out the same flask . 😵‍💫. like it werent the whiskey he was tryna savor…

[guessimherenowtoo]

Wait……I might have one…

Anybody got any songs they think would make a particularly good fanvid? I’m in the mood to cut something together but I don’t have any songs picked out right off the top of my head

[guessimherenowtoo]

magic mike au 👁️ 👁️

hii i’ve never seen magic mike, i hope this works 🫶

“Hey Buck, buy you a drink?”

Gale frowns. It’s his first day on the job, and he only knows enough to be sure the guy grinning at him from the other side of the bar isn’t the manager or the owner of the place.

“My name’s not Buck,” he says.

“Oh? Coulda swore I heard someone say it was.” The guy runs a hand through his mess of dark curls. Probably he thinks it’s charming. “Buy you a drink anyhow?”

It’s two in the afternoon. Gale’s only here this early to familiarize himself with the setup before his bartending shift that night. None of that is need-to-know information though, and this guy seems like he’d take a mile if Gale gave an inch.

“I don’t drink,” Gale says instead.

The guy whistles. Solemnly, he says, “Good on you. I’ve seen the dangers of the stuff firsthand.”

Gale eyes the man’s broad hands, spread now over the bar top. Some of his fingers look like they’ve been broken a time or two. Gale says, “I bet.”

The guy cracks a sly, handsome grin. Gale feels something about it, instinctually, which he replaces with suspicion just as fast.

“So, what is your name?”

Gale raises an eyebrow. He doesn’t know why he makes the guy fish. He just feels like there’d be some consequence if he made it too easy.

The guy takes it in stride. “Guess I’ll have to try harder,” he says. “Where are you from?”

“That’s trying harder?”

The guy laughs a little, folds his arms on the bar and pillows his head on them. He looks up at Gale, pleading the way a dog or a child might, wide-eyed and sweet, but there’s a damnable self-awareness to it.

Gale sighs shortly. “Wyoming, originally.”

“Cowboy state,” the guy says. He snaps his fingers. “Knew you looked like a Buck.”

“How do you figure?”

“You know, like a horse’ll buck somebody. Same as you’ve been trying to do this whole conversation.”

“I make nice,” Gale says, in his flattest voice.

The guy laughs. “Well, I’d love to see it one day. Lucky for you the ladies love a brooding blonde.”

“I don’t much care about that.”

“You will,” the guy promises. “That’s where your tips are. You on tonight, cowboy?”

Gale fixes the guy with a stare, to little effect. Eventually he nods.

“Good,” the guy says, voice freighted with something Gale can’t put his finger on. “Me too.”

Then he backs off, literally, a couple jaunty backward steps with his hand raised in goodbye.

“Hey,” Gale calls, before he’s out of earshot. “What’s your name?”

“They call me Bucky!” the guy yells back.

“You gotta be joking,” Gale says, but Bucky just grins and turns away.

Later that night, Gale’s swamped for a good 45 minutes before the show. The crowd thins out as the lights go down, though, and he’s in the clear by the time the curtains open. He grabs a tub to bus the bar and doesn’t look too hard at the stage. It’s not his choice of entertainment, but he’s new in town and this is the first place he landed an interview. That pretty face won’t hurt none, the manager had said, and made him an offer on the spot.

So Gale’s not paying much attention, up until the gunshots go off: they’re fake, Gale knows the difference, but still his head snaps up in time to see a cap gun trailing smoke.

It’s Bucky up there. Doing an absurd little boot-scoot, dressed in chaps, spurs, and not much else other than his cowboy hat.

Gale pauses, empty beer bottle in hand. No fucking way was this his act.

Bucky’s baggy tracksuit from earlier had camouflaged just how broad he is, with thick arms and thighs. But his personality’s intact: he’s having fun up there, it looks like, grinning and shimmying, goofy and lascivious all at once. Must be that unlikely marriage that makes it hard to look away from.

By the time the chorus of his backing music hits Bucky’s danced himself right out of his chaps. Gale’s not familiar with the song, but he makes out the line the whole thing seems to hang on—save a horse, ride a cowboy.

As if the get-up weren’t enough to drive the point home, Gale recalls Bucky’s voice earlier that day, calling him cowboy when Gale wouldn’t give up his name.

Maybe Bucky’s not just making fun.

Gale flushes hot while his face twists down into something incredulous. Bucky rolls his hips and thrusts into the air and makes a production of himself, as he’s paid to. Gale can feel himself scowling. He’s got no way of knowing whether Bucky can see him, but he’d bet against it, right up until Bucky seems to look clear over the heads of the crowd to drop a wink in his direction.

To Gale’s left, there’s the sound of someone clearing their throat. He turns to find a woman with her silver hair piled high behind a neon pink visor. She’s seventy if she’s a day.

“Sorry about that, ma’am,” he says, wiping his hands clean on a rag. “What can I get you?”

“It’s alright, honey,” she says with the rasp of a lifelong smoker. “Must be hard, working alongside so many pretty young things.”

“I wouldn’t know about that.” He has the urge to clear his own throat. “It’s my first day,” he adds lamely.

She whistles and looks back at the stage, where Bucky’s tossed his hat into the crowd to a chorus of shrieks. “Well,” she says, “I’m sure you’ll catch on quick.”

[guessimherenowtoo]

Anybody got any songs they think would make a particularly good fanvid? I’m in the mood to cut something together but I don’t have any songs picked out right off the top of my head

[guessimherenowtoo]

John's the type of guy to buy a busted up locket when he's in town one night and steal a picture of Gale (maybe one Marge took or maybe he managed to convince someone to make a copy of Gale's official portrait) and carefully cut the picture until it fits perfectly inside the locket and he wears it on his chest, right next to his heart, and kisses it every time he goes up in the air

who wouldn't want this face in a heart shaped locket

[guessimherenowtoo]

You've seen it now. I don't know what I saw. Thirty guys...just... I should've been up there with you.