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a-romantics-guide-to-life · 29 days

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╰┈ 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐰𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐭 ┈➤

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : liam could’ve sworn this was the first time you’d met, so why does he feel like you know him better then he knew himself?

𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : reincarnation modern!au, billy isn’t billy but rather liam, and he’s an actor, this part is pretty long

𝐚/𝐧 : inspired by my friends shenanigans and talks of reincarnation! hope you enjoy!!

𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

William loved Billy the Kid.

Your very own kid brother, WIlliam, had declared his own nickname to be Billy because of just how much he loved the famous western legend. Ever since you had told him of the old famed outlaw, he’s been obsessed. He changed his nickname, his clothing style, he even tried speaking in a drawled western accent like they did the old black and white cowboy shows, which Billy also loved.

He printed and weathered his very own copies of the Kid’s wanted posters, decorating our small ranch house with homemade wanted posters of me, himself, and our Pa. He printed vintage movie posters and the famous old photo of Billy the Kid to show off to anyone who'd visit your little gem in the middle of nowhere in Southern California. He even begged you and your father to teach him how to shoot just so he can connect with his hero.

Billy had also coerced you into sewing him trousers and a blouse just like the Kid wore in his iconic wanted poster. He would steal your fathers hats and boots as well as your wine red cardigan, walk outside, toothpick in mouth, playing pretend.

Billy’d pretend that he was in the famed Lincoln County War, surrounded by Jesse Evans and his gang of misfits employed under Murphy and the House. He’d use his pretend gun and shoot all the bad guys down just as Billy the Kid had at the burning McSween house.

Of course, as Billy grew up, so did you. You had left your father’s ranch, your home, and moved to Los Angeles to finish high school and attend university.

In university, you ended up studying history and visual communication. You loved history, tales of old, myths and legends, all of it. You were the one who taught your kid brother about the famed Billy the Kid on a road trip through the American South-West once after all.

It was your senior year of high school when you had finally found your calling. During that school year, you had found yourself signed up for a theater class. However, you were terrible at acting. You couldn’t memorize lines and your singing voice was locked up in your shower, the key thrown away and never to be found.

Of course, your best friend, Lucy, had gotten the lead role of the play. She was born and raised in Hollywood, the land of movie magic. She was a natural, her improv and memorization skills making her one of the top people in that theater class. Her voice was akin to a sweet angel which is why the musical theater club always cast her as the lead, even in musicals such as Shrek where she played the big, burly green ogre to perfection.

However, Lucy was very particular about her costumes. She loved you for that exact reason. You, ever since you were a child, had been talented at sewing and costume making. And on top of that, you loved historical processes and authenticity. So, of course in an attempt to include you in their play, Lucy sang praises about your skill as a designer and a historian to your teacher who had awarded you with the title “Art Director”, whatever that meant.

What did matter was that you had the time of your life. Being an expert on history, especially the Wild West which was where the play was set in, you were considered the saving grace of the play. You had led the costume department, aka you and one other classmate, in creating historical-ish costumes for each and every one of the 21 different characters. You had also led the stage crew in creating the backdrops and settings with props which all were weathered by you to look as if you had plucked them straight out of Gunsmoke or even Bonanza.

You had discovered your love for design and history there, carrying that love with you as you went on to enhance your studies in college. As time passed on, you started to post your creations online, oftentimes getting commissioned to create costumes and even design pro global pieces based on time periods or films. Most of these posts of course were of Lucy in her costumes she asked you to make for her for her plays and musicals as she went on to professionally act and perform in live performances and movies.

Naturally, as your account and following grew, so did your opportunities. Soon, you found yourself being contacted by actors and actresses alike, asking you to design their premiere looks. Even movie studios contracted you as a consultant to help with their movies. Of course, you accepted the position. Even your papa and Billy had been ecstatic to hear about your new passion, especially so when you told them about your new consultant gig.

After accepting the job as a historical design consultant for movie studios, you often found yourself working with costume departments, helping make sure the costumes seemed plausible for their time period. You were consulted with on set designs, making sure furniture and other items on set actually existed during that time period. Everyday, you were working on something new, using history and your knowledge to bring cinematic artworks to life, transporting actors and viewers to a time or place.

Needless to say, you loved your job.

Even more so, the perks of said job.

You were paid a handsome check every month for just doing what you loved. You were invited to gala’s and dinners alike to celebrate the movies and shows you worked on. And not only that, because you were a consultant, you worked primarily from home only and for the most part, on your own time.

You were provided with the lush fabrics and delicate threads to create costumes and pieces. You were able to use a plethora of old sewing machines from one of the very first manual spinning ones to one of the most rare, a model from 1938 of which only 43 remain.

Your ‘office’ had to be your favorite perk of working in the movie industry though. It was located on the movie studios backlot in a building called ‘Creator’s Heaven’ because it was one of the largest creative spaces in all of Hollywood. It was an upscale warehouse with shelves towering with different fabrics, lace, and threads. It had rooms called “Makers Space” dedicated to sewing with TV’s and speakers fit for a movie theater to help with boredom when sewing by hand (although it does nothing for concentration especially when one’s favorite actor is on screen).

You also were given permission to create your own private projects in the Maker Spaces, even if you had to lug all your own materials to the rooms yourself. You loved putting on your favorite movie or show while you created costumes as a private designer or even for yourself. Of course, that’s how you found yourself in one of the rooms one warm night in late July.

You had promised your brother that you would make him a new costume for the Old Lincoln Days festival in New Mexico you went to every year. It was always one of the highlights of your lonely summers in LA. Your papa and lil Billy still lived on your darling little ranch which always made you homesick when your Pa would video call you and show you how much the cattle had grown or how full the fields were.

But every summer, you drove down south, picking up Billy, costumes in hand. You would then endure the incredibly dull landscape of the South-West for three days, stopping along other towns every now and then to rest, eat, and even stay the night.

You spent the drive singing to the songs on the radio in your little SUV, AC on full blast, the cool air would sting your noses but keep you from roasting alive in the heat of the sun. You would talk with Billy about his schooling, how life was going for you too. But by far, your favorite part had to be about how Billy’s eyes lit up at every mention of the movies you helped make. Truth was, while Billy still loved Billy the Kid, he also has fallen in love with many many other movies.

Sometimes, when your father would drive all the way to LA with Billy to visit you, you would also take Billy with you to work as an assistant of some sorts. Billy always was so energetic and buzzed with happiness whenever you did bring him along.

You always enjoyed seeing your Papa and Billy, even if it was only ever on a video call. You loved getting to see your baby brother grow up into middle school then to high school. He had decided to stay with your Pa, helping out on the ranch and attending school in town. He had grown so much too. He nearly towered over you at the tender age of 15. His legs may have grown longer but his smile still stayed as boyish as it always was.

Which is why you loved your road trips to New Mexico. Even if it was only for a little under a week, you loved getting time to spend with your kid brother. Billy and you also loved getting to dress up like they did in the Wild Wild West too. You always made sure to update Billy’s costume because of how much he grew in a year. But you? You always always wore the same get up. Dark chestnut trousers that met your hips, straps pulled over your shoulders which lay on top of your deep red blouse. Even a gun belt, the leather hanging a little loose on your waist.

You never knew why you always wore the same old clothes but it always felt right to wear when you visited New Mexico.

Liam loathed driving to New Mexico.

He didn’t understand why but it always felt wrong. And yet here he was, Garett and Evan in tow, his best friends in the entire world.

Growing up, Billy didn’t have much. His family moved from the big city to New Mexico in fact. His Ma worked night and day as part of the local Inn’s housekeeper. His Pa worked out on the ranches and farms, helping whoever would pay him while Liam stayed home in their small two bedroom cabin with his baby brother Jo.

Naturally, as both Jo and Liam got older, they too started to work. Liam helped his Ma and Pa however he could. He learned to ride a horse to help herd the cattle, harvest wheat and grain, how to herd cattle, how to sew, clean, and cook. He worked hard at night, helping his Ma at the Inn while going to school in the morning with Jo.

And that’s exactly how Liam’s life went on for the next ten years. Slaving the day away at school, trying to get an education while working at night to try and help pay the bills.

Yet it was in New Mexico that Liam had found his passion.

It was Liam’s 17th summer alive when his Pa had surprised him with a trip to Lincoln. The occasion? It had been a celebration of the official end of the Lincoln County war. The festival had been held for many years now, many tourists coming to visit the famous Old Lincoln Days festival where they celebrated Billy the Kid and his famous legend.

Little did all those tourists know, drive a little more North and you’d find that the Lincoln days weren’t too far gone.

Of course, Liam’s Pa didn’t do anything without good reason. It had taken Liam a little over five years to convince his father that they needed a car, the reason his Pa finally cracked? Liam told him that it had an A/C.

Turns out, the real reason that Liam’s Pa had taken him to Lincoln that fateful summer was all because he had signed up Liam for the lead role in the famous shooting reenactment. Every year, the first weekend of August, the festival would kick off with it’s old timey cantina��s and saloons. They even had elaborate Wild West costumes and ‘cowboys’ that would ride their steeds up and down the street, talking in drawled accents and jumbled up lingo that had to have been made up. They would take swigs from flasks and chew on long stems of wheat that rested in between their teeth.

Liam hated it. It sends shivers down his spine every time he even feels a whisper of a memory of that first time he played the Kid in the festival his father had volunteered him for.

Liam had only had three days to practice the scene, yet it was almost like muscle memory for him. They were reenacting the scene where Sheriff Pat Garrett shoots and kills the Kid.

It truthfully felt as if he had been in that exact same position. Why or when? Liam could never figure it out, no matter how much he wracked around his jumble of memories.

It was as if he had actually been walking down the streets of Lincoln, after dinner presumably. It was as if he felt the malicious eyes of Garett staring him down as he asked

“¿Quién es? ¿Quién es?“.

It almost felt right to fall to the Sheriff’s gun, almost as if he truly was William H Bonney who had lost everyone he’s ever loved to death who also begged for the sweet relief that he would find in the afterlife.

It always irked Liam. Nevertheless, he was just grateful that he got paid.

As the years passed, Liam started to fall in love with the role, volunteering every year up until he moved away for college. He wasn’t Billy every year, once he was actually Sheriff Garrett, but he always got to work with his best friends Evan and Garett, who he actually met at 17 while volunteering. In fact the three were so close that they all moved together to sunny California from arid New Mexico.

And they have been together ever since. They all fell in love with theater and acting, especially during the re-enactments they all did in the festival back home. The trio attended community college together, renting a small two bedroom apartment together. They all worked their asses off to make rent each month while studying Trigonometry and American History.

As for how they survived in a two bedroom apartment? Well, thanks to their very special schedules with work and school, only two of them would ever be sleeping at one time. Evan couldn’t properly function until at least 2 PM which meant that he slept through the morning and was out late at night. Garrett also had a very unique schedule, rather than sleeping ten hours at once, he split it up. He’d wake up bright and early at 4 AM, leaving for his morning job down at the police station where he helped sort paperwork and whatever, come back to the apartment to nap from a little after lunch till 6 PM where he and Evan would usually go out for drinks before attending class together.

Liam never really understood how those two functioned drunk on beer, learning in the middle of the night, and working odd hours. Liam had prided himself on being the most responsible of course. He’d wake up early as well, attending classes in the morning until lunch rolled around where he’d go to his job at an old family-owned diner.

He loved working at that little diner, it never failed to remind him of his Ma who also ran a diner and bakery back in New Mexico. She’d even open up a little pop up shop in Lincoln in time for the festival where she attracted tourists and locals alike with her delightful baked goods and savory dishes she spent hours on preparing.

It was moments like those that Liam thought of on the hard days. As the trio worked through community college, they also all started auditioning for other roles and jobs. Of course, being young and new to the whole acting scene, rarely did anyone choose the kids from the middle of nowhere New Mexico.

That is, until they held auditions for a rendition of the famous Billy the Kid story. Garett had been talking to an agent who had managed many many famous actors who were looking for new blood. It was through that agent that he had found the audition which he told the boys. Of course, Liam was ecstatic. At 20, Liam had been faced with countless empty email inboxes when it came to roles he auditioned for. Even Evan and Garett had consistently pulled Ad and modeling gigs. So, as one does when one is down on their luck, Liam remarked,

“Fuck it, what do I gotta lose?”

Liam regards that moment of uncertainty when he closed his eyes and clicked ‘Sign Up For Audition’ as the best thing he’s ever done.

He had driven to the theater where they were holding auditions all by himself since neither of the other two were gonna audition for any of the roles since they had booked another Ad campaign the week before.

In honesty, Liam was so nervous waiting in that line that slithered through the hallways filled with other boys and men around his age, height, and build. He could still feel the way that his hands nervously shook as he reread the script over and over and over again. He was usually good at memorizing things like math formulas and other lines of plays and musicals yet he just felt so jittery. Perhaps it was because he was playin’ Billy the Kid, a character he’s played before. Perhaps it was because he was from New Mexico and he had a hankering to do one of his states heroes good.

Regardless, Liam still walked straight ahead onto the stage, performing the lines as best as he could without choking on the words. Of course, Lady Luck refused to grace Liam at that moment where he had forgotten the line. He panicked and scrambled to recall all those years of playing Billy, speedily racking his brain for any form of assistance it could relay him with.

Of course, his brain ran on empty, nothing came out of his mouth. Or well, nothing came out of his mouth but his hands moved on instinct. Liam had quickly raised his gun from the belt they had given him to use as a prop. He channeled each of those years of learning how to actually shoot a gun as well as how to quickly draw it to move his arm at lightning speed.

And it must’ve worked because the casting directors yelled cut on the tape, urging Liam to come close to the table they sat at. They then truly surprised Liam by asking where he had learned to draw that fast. Liam explained that he had grown up in a small town just a bit away from Lincoln where he had learned almost everything he knew from his loving Pa.

He told them about his family, the farm he grew up on, and his experience on stage as Billy. They applauded him and snag praises of his ability as well as his knowledge on the outlaw. In truth, Liam was relieved that the casting directors had been impressed with his quick draw.

The pride Liam felt as the casting directors sent everyone else in line away as they started sharing the timeline and filming details. He felt his chest swell with happiness and giddiness as they began discussing the script and how the hours were gonna look while filming.

That day has truly been one for the books, seeing as Liam did journal.

He loved recounting and writing about his days and feelings. He always felt it was right from when he was younger till today, it just felt right. Yet, it was the one thing he couldn’t explain, it felt as if he had done it before.

But when?

The streets of Lincoln were alive with the buzz of laughter, happiness, and the allure of the Wild Wild West. The streets were filled with people who had arrived early to celebrate the Old Lincoln Days.

Of course, that group of people also included you and your brother.

You two would consistently try to get to the event early to enjoy all the festivities that were available. You would take your eager brother to the shooting range where you could shoot pellet shotguns at cans as they did in the old days to practice their aim. You would drag your poor brother to each of the shops to look at the lovely pieces of jewelry that artisans made.

Walking around the small town, you truly felt transported into the Old Lincoln days with people dressed up in all sorts of get ups from modern day cowboys, to old American debutantes. You loved the aura the town held as they celebrated their past. No matter how dark it was.

“Hey sis?” Billy's meek voice pulled your attention from the third jewelry store of the night. You loved looking at the dazzling gold and silver, you especially were fascinated by the deep dark blue sapphires that were lined up on the display.

“Yea Billy,” you turn to him, looking into his eyes that mirrored your fathers own. “Something wrong?”

“Nothing, just wonderin’ why you never buy anything from these jewelry stores that you visit every year.” You chuckled. Billy asked that every single year and every single year your answer was the same,

“Cause Billy, I got my trusty necklace. What else would I need? You know I just like browsing.” You smiled, slowly walking away from the stall. Your fingers instinctively found their way to your neck where lo and behold, your necklace was still hung loose from your neck.

Truth was you never could remember how you came into possession of the lovely chain. All you knew is that ever since you were young you remembered wearing the chain with a charm of a worn bullet swinging from the end of it. Even your father couldn’t recall when you had started wearing the necklace, it was as if it had been with you since the beginning of time.

“Well, can we start un-browsing and get some food at that one pub inside that old hotel?” He looked at you in his dapper new get up consisting of a simple dark striped blouse and trousers. However, the new gun belt around his waist was very much not simple. It had nearly taken you three hours alone to prep the tough leather you had used to create it. You could still feel the rough texture of the leather underneath your fingertips, the feeling of having to push and pull the thick needle up and down through the strong material. It had been a pain to make but seeing how happy your brother had looked when he wore it for the first time was worth it.

“Sure, why don’t we even grab some of those pastries you love so much while we’re at it?” You sling an arm around Billy’s tall frame, walking towards the small pop-up bakery your brother adored.

“Yes!” He laughed, sprinting to the shop in three seconds flat thanks to his inherently long legs. He quickly picked up his favorite pastry, turning to you once he got to the young boy at the cash register who couldn’t have been more than three years older than your own brother.

You smiled as they started talking, looking at the other wonderfully tasty looking breads that were on display.

“See anything you like dear?” You looked up at the woman behind the counter, her dark hair and warm eyes inviting you into conversation.

“Well, everything looks very delicious ma’am. I’m guessing you’re the mastermind behind these amazing pastries?” You smiled warmly at the woman.

“Why yes I am, my lovely son Jo is manning the register this year too. He's grown up so well, just like his brother.”

You turned to look at the two boys again, Billy showing Jo something on his phone.

“My own brother, Billy over there, absolutely loves your baked goods. Every year when we’re here, he has to come here to buy something at least once a day.”

“What loyal customers you two are! Your brother there reminds me of my ow-”

“MA!” Jo’s voice carried from the register, “can I go with Billy here to the pub? Liam texted and told me to meet him there and Billy here said he and his sis are already gunna go.”

Jo’s Ma sighed and chuckled at her son, her head shaking as she smiled, “Yes of course you can go meet up with your brother at the pub.” She quickly folded a box up, filling it to the brim with pastries. Nimbly, she folded the lid before walking to her son, taking his un-tied apron from him.

“Here, since you two have been coming here for years, why don’t you take this box of pastries, on the house.” Billy lit up, singing thanks ecstatically. He and Jo rushed out of the small shop, running towards the pub. You quietly thanked the lady for the pastries as you followed the two trouble makers out and back into the hustle and bustle of Lincoln.

You quickly catch up to the boys who have already pushed open the doors of the small but packed pub. There were tables crowded with people dressed as cowboys and sheriffs all toasting to the Regulators, people dressed as debutantes munching on tamales made by locals, and even people just in plain tees knocking down shots of tequila.

It was a very familiar scene and most definitely a welcome sight.

Billy and Jo sat down at one of the tables, further away from the bar of course, eagerly discussing their clothes which Jo was wearing a very similar version of. You sat down next to Billy, looking around as they happily chatted their head off in the already loud space.

They placed their order, continuing to chatter off about Billy the Kid and the reenactment happening tomorrow. You looked around, observing the costumes people wore.

“Hey Jo, who’re these folks?”

Your head snapped up at the sound of a rich, deep voice. You raised your head to look at the man who had just strolled on over to your table.

Liam had walked into the pub expecting his younger brother to be seated at their usual booth. What Liam hadn't expected was for his lil’ brother to be accompanied by another boy around his age and a woman. Where had a boy as young as Jo even found a girl to pick up already?

Liam walked on over only to be met with a view like no other. You were no girl, you were an angel. And when you looked up at Liam with those bright round eyes, Liam could have died a happy man. Everything caught his attention, your wavy hair in an updo, your soft lips which were begging to be kissed, and your necklace, a bullet hanging in between the valley of your chest.

“Liam!” Jo jumped, startling you out of your trance. You had been shocked by Jo’s older brother, Liam. His hair was the loveliest chestnut waves that begged for fingers to run through. He wore a dark blue blouse and deep burgundy trousers. His eyes were what captivated you the most. His deep blue eyes reminded you of the beautifulest sapphires that even the color of the ocean and night sky couldn’t even hope to beat.

Jo stood up, sending his chair back as he hugged his brother’s torso. Liam chuckled, sending shivers down your spine, committing the sound to memory. You smiled at the interaction which reminded you so much of yourself and Billy.

All four of you sat down again as the food arrived. You all shared the food, Jo and Billy continuing to chatter leaving you and Liam to your devices as you sat across from each other. You two averted your eyes from one another, heat rising to both your cheeks nervous to talk to the other.

Liam tried not to stare, really, but you were mesmerizing. You shined brighter than any star could, and your smile? Liam only caught a glimpse of it and yet he knew that the warm feeling he felt in his chest was not heat exhaustion.

“Sooo,” you started, trying to get the man across from you talking again,” I’m Billy here’s older sister, by the way. I don’t know if you need to or even want to know but my name’s,” you drawled, your voice getting quieter and quieter until you uttered your name.

Liam perked up at that, meeting your eyes once more. Where had he heard that name before?

He whispered your name and you could have sworn that the room had gotten 100 degrees hotter from the way his deep voice drawled the syllables of your name. “ As in the famous Billy the Kid’s lover?”

You shook your head chuckling. In all the years you have been alive, there has never been a moment where the first connection someone made with your name was the ill fated lover of William H Bonney.

“Yes, exactly that. How do you know that?”

“Well it ain’t that hard to connect darlin’, your kid brother’s the outlaw ‘n your his girl. Your parents must’ve loved the Kid.”

“Well actually, it was me who sparked Billy’s nickname, his real name’s William though so I guess he is the Kid. isn’t he?”

Liam laughed at that, small world isn’t it?

“Hey! What’s so funny over there mister?” You sternly gazed at the man. From afar, one could argue that Liam looked young and spry but once you take a closer look, he isn’t a boy at all. He's pure man, all six feet of him. Taut muscle toned his body which was broad and clean.

“Nothin’ darlin’, just, it’sa small world ain’t it? My name’s William too.” He smiled and your heart skipped a beat. You felt your lips turn upwards at the man in front of you.

“Well then, Mr. William, what do you do for a living?”

You smile as Liam happily responds, continuing the conversation late into the night. Even Billy and Jo had left to go roam around the festival. You and Liam continued your happy chatter, a small tug pulling at your heartstrings.

You’ve met before right? That's impossible, you two clearly have never seen each other. Yet why was it like Liam knew you better than anyone? Why did it feel as if you had already shared these smiles and laughs?

Was this even the night you two had first met?

sorry that its so long and it TOOK FOREVER to post, just been real busy anyways, i hope you enjoyed!

#billy the kid #billy the kid x reader #billy the kid 2022 #billy the kid fanfiction #tom blyth #tom blyth x reader #billy the kid reincarnation au #missing billy hours #loving billy hours #emi sanity

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mariacallous · 2 months

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When Zdenek Koubek walked into an office job in Prague in 1935, he braced himself for a familiar fear: ostracization by his colleagues. For the first time, he was showing up presenting as his authentic, masculine self. It’s a moment familiar to many transgender people, seared into your brain as you navigate coming out to the world and being who you actually are. But for almost everyone else, it’s private. For Koubek, it was relentlessly covered in the global press—in a society where, until a lawyer granted him a change of birth certificate, he could be arrested for “cross-dressing” for donning pants and a men’s coat.

A year earlier, Koubek had become a national icon winning a gold medal in the 800-meter—not in the Olympics but in the Women’s World Games, a rival event that allowed women to compete in events that the International Olympic Committee (IOC) would not. But for Koubek, who in modern terms would be labeled an intersex person assigned female at birth, the victory wracked him with guilt as he felt he was an imposter in women’s events despite society labeling him as one. His story and many others are chronicled in Michael Waters’s new book, The Other Olympians: Fascism, Queerness, and the Making of Modern Sports, which dives deep into the trans individuals who disrupted attempts to strictly define gender at the Olympics.

Despite current conventions, sport was not always policed the same way it is now. Even after some federations spent decades using tests to determine someone’s gender, the rise in visibility of trans and intersex athletes has prompted federations to once again explicitly define who is eligible for which gender categories. Athletes such as Caster Semenya—a runner from South Africa whose leaked private medical information determined her to be intersex—have been caught in this fight over who federations determine fits in the male and female categories.

Koubek and other athletes profiled in The Other Olympians would be undeniably categorized as intersex or transmasculine by today’s standards—identified by others as female at birth but identifying as men themselves. Meanwhile, the non-cisgender athletes who draw the most scrutiny today are transfeminine, identified as male at birth but identifying as women themselves. The trans men of the 1930s were depicted as being cheats trying to enter women’s competitions for their own advantage. The trans women of the 2020s are being depicted as cheats trying to enter women’s competitions for their own advantage.

Yet the idea that gender has to be tested did not arise out of nowhere—it was one driven by sports administrators of the 1930s with distinctly dubious politics.

The Other Olympians centers on the stories of these queer athletes, a time when we have much more understanding about transgender identities and those same athletes’ access to medical and social transitions. What is striking, however, is the difference many of these trans athletes received in the media compared with the attention many get today. Society at large was surprisingly accepting of the malleability of gender, according to media reports the book details. But the officials in charge were determined to enforce their own hard boundaries.

“It was just a small handful of officials who felt threatened by the idea that athletes could transition, then were like, ‘Oh, we have to do something about it,’” Waters told Foreign Policy. “And they didn’t really seem to know what they were doing and just decided that they had to do something.”

Koubek struggled with his victory in the Women’s World Games and almost considered publicly returning his medal during the event given his struggles with his own gender identity. It’s the reverse of the often pushed, if evidence-less, notion today that athletes are supposedly subverting gender binaries in the pursuit of victory. Athletes such as former collegiate swimmer Riley Gaines have even gone as far to sue sport organizations for letting transgender athletes compete alongside them. Other cisgender athletes have vocalized support for barring trans athletes on similar grounds.

Koubek was so concerned with his place in the sporting landscape that he eschewed all forms of celebration of his accomplishments, seeking instead to ensure that others benefited. His actions represent the Olympic ideal of fair play and equal competition—in contrast to the sport officials.

Starting with the 1936 Summer Olympics in Berlin, sport officials began to embrace the notion that sex testing was vital to create a level playing field in elite sport. The stories that prompted these officials to take action would be unrecognizable in today’s cultural landscape.

Being an elite athlete requires immense discipline and control over your own body, forming it to the highest standards in your sport. That kind of dedication toward changing and adapting your own figure is something many transgender people innately relate to. Yet instead of embracing how trans athletes bridge the gender divide with agency, sport officials viewed them as a threat, even if they wanted to compete in the gender they identified as.

Notably, most transgender sport bans these days allow transmasculine athletes an opportunity to seek an exemption to take testosterone as part of their transition without any sort of other medicalization needed to “prove” their gender. Testosterone is one of the most commonly known banned substances but a necessary part of hormone replacement therapy (HRT) for transmasculine athletes. Sport bodies have deemed that for transmasculine athletes, taking testosterone as part of transition is fundamentally different from its use to doping

Meanwhile, transfeminine athletes, in an increasing amount of sports, are required to medicalize themselves to levels deemed passable by cisgender sport officials, many of whom are cisgender men. As part of transfeminine HRT, many trans women take a combination of estrogen and testosterone suppressants while being carefully monitored by a doctor—ideally. However, sport bodies have taken that further, declaring limits to the amount of testosterone in which transfeminine athletes can have in their bodies, even if it is not what their bodies would regularly be producing while on HRT. This means instead of just pursuing a medical transition, transfeminine athletes need to conform their endocrine system to specific ranges set by sport officials.

Two officials, American Avery Brundage and Swede Sigfrid Edstrom, were key to defining gender at the Olympics. Edstrom for many years before World War II led the International Association of Athletics Federations (now known as World Athletics) and used his political maneuvering to bring the Women’s World Games under his purview. His main ally was Brundage, the head of the American Olympic Committee, a precursor to the U.S. Olympic and Paralympic Committee, who successfully blocked a boycott movement aimed at stopping U.S. participation at the 1936 Olympics in Nazi Germany.

Increasingly working with German sport officials close to the Nazi regime, Edstrom and Brundage rose to the top of power in the Olympic world and introduced regimes of sex testing and medical certification. Both eventually assumed the Presidency of the IOC, and their reactionary gender politics still define many of the norms today.

“I do really believe after researching this history that where we’re at today was not inevitable, but I think sex testing has become kind of an intrinsic part of how the Olympics worked for so long that it can kind of feel like it’s just how sports works,” Waters told Foreign Policy.

As sport federations such as World Rugby and World Athletics seek to limit transfeminine athlete participation, The Other Olympians seeks to showcase queer history in sport that has been around since before many modern practices were in place.

One area where more scholarship could be useful is the highlighting of transfeminine, or potentially transfeminine, athletes in the 1930s and how they navigated the changing sporting landscape. Did they, too, wish to compete as their authentic selves but hid their desires? But discrimination against trans women in the 1930s was even tighter than against trans men.

“I think my big thing is, like we’re really seeing now with all these anti-trans policies, how queer history is not linear and how it’s not a linear story of progress,” Waters said about what surprised him the most from researching The Other Olympians.

Sports have always been inherently political. So are our notions of gender. Intersex and trans people blur simple binaries in challenging ways. Those political decisions impact who gets to participate in the upper echelons of competition. These decisions impact sports all the way down to the grassroots levels, as federations and national governing bodies take their cues from the IOC, where the latest policy has allowed each international federation to set its own rules.

For example, British rowing has set a policy in which only women assigned female at birth can compete, while transfeminine athletes must compete in a newly created open category, othering them and separating them from main competitions. This policy is in line with the current British government’s view of gender and identity, but notably it is very different from the World Rowing policy that allows trans athletes to compete in the gender they identify with restrictions.

Or, in other words, as Waters said, “We can see the direct line between what happened in 1936 and what we have today.”

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namraniiart · 1 month

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meet my bully oc!

trigger warning: mention of s3xual abuse, s3x tr4fficking in the backstory section

·˚ ༘ meet harin kim, the greaser who’s a sucker for all things elvis and can’t get enough of the kid with the napoleon complex aka larry ‘peanut’ romano.

·˚ ༘ she was born in jeju island, south korea.

·˚ ༘ she’s an 18 year old greaser who loves to stay up at midnight watching the sunset and drawing, occasionally smoking weed while doing so. she’s loud and rambunctious, and won’t take shit from anyone. most of the time anyway. but at the same time, she’s mature, soft, and collected. practically everyone’s mother at this point.

·˚ ༘ backstory: at the age of 9, she along with ted thompson got kidnapped and forced into a trafficking ring, they became friends and stuck together as much as they could, and when they were 14 they both ran away together, hopping on a train all the way from norwalk, connecticut to bullworth, massachusetts. ted would end up going back to his parents and she would get adopted by a nice old lady by the name of sarah betlone. they would meet again a few years later, when sarah had enough of homeschooling harin and decided to enroll her to bullworth academy.

. . . . . ╰──╮╭──╯ . . . . .

voicelines…

۫ ꣑ৎ “im about to make a fat joke..i forgot the fat joke.” (conversing)

۫ ꣑ৎ “ive been wanting for so long to just..unload on british people.” (in response to any prep insulting her.)

۫ ꣑ৎ “jimmys mom! hooooo!!!” (conversing)

۫ ꣑ৎ “alright, ive got to skedadle” (leaving)

۫ ꣑ৎ “why are these men crying?” (after winning a fight)

۫ ꣑ৎ “im bleeding.” (after losing a fight)

۫ ꣑ৎ “i was making a bagle earlier and out of nowhere i start having uncontrollable spasms.” (conversing)

۫ ꣑ৎ “he’s so adorable it makes me cry from joy” (conversing)

۫۫ ꣑ৎ “polk salad annie..gators got your granny..shoong.” (talking to herself)

. . . . . ╰──╮╭──╯ . . . . .

random rambling…

✧.* she’s hooked up with damon in the past, she considers it just a one time thing but poor guys down bad and keeps telling her he’d do it again.

✧.* favourite artists: elvis, gorillaz, and aoa.

✧.* a diary for pretty much everyone at bullworth, someone’s always venting to her and she doesn’t know why.

✧.* can play the clarinet.

✧.* if she had to pick, her dream job would be fashion design. the chicks a killer for drawing, especially making her own little outfits, and is commonly called a fashion icon.

✧.* her biggest insecurity would be her thighs, specifically the way they pop out in a lot of pants that she wears.

✧.* her friendship with lola is actually uncanny, so uncanny that she convinces lola to stop cheating on johnny and helps her see how in love he is with her.

✧.* thinks gord looks a bit funny, doesn’t really know about the whole “inbreeding” thing.

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coleskingdom · 6 months

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Sunday Drive

Jay White X F Reader

Minors DNI NSFW

As always pure fiction for @midwestmade29

@madhatterbri

Gif by @midwestmade29

Stepping outside the warm spring evening I smiled as I watched Jay pull up in the driveway. “Get in” he leaned a cross the passenger seat and opened the door. I slid in to the passenger seat, looking over at him in his black leather jacket, and aviators. “ Hey handsome, where are we going?” seeing a packed bag, in the back seat. “ Everywhere and Nowhere but it’s all up to you”backing out of the driveway . “ I’m going to ask you a series of questions, don’t think just answer.” I nod my head trying to figure out what his plan is.

“North or South” turning his head to look at me, “South, I guess” unsure of where this was going “ Highway or backroads” , “Back Roads” he smiled at the answer. “ Last one for now, Stones or Black Rebel Motorcycle Club”, “ You should know the answer to this one.” He hit a button and I smiled as Black Rebel began playing. “ There’s something about you, this car and that band .” his laugh making me smile. “So I’m a cliche, I like a muscle car, a very hot guy, and a rock n roll band” my hand on his thigh. “There’s something a little reckless and iconic about it.” moving my hand up just a little. He smiled glancing at me “Sweet girl remember who you’re playing with.” a rush of warmth running through my body at the tone in his voice.

“She wants your edge

She wants your kiss

She wants to get inside your head and tell it like it is

You want it badly

You want it so completele

I want to feel something more 'cause I can't fuckin' breathe”

My fingers run up and down his thigh, and over the growing bulge in his pants. I lean over and blow behind his ear. “Damn it, you’re gonna be the death of me.” his grip tightened on the steering wheel as he maneuvers the car in time with the music and the curves of the road. The loud guitars and engine synced in time. “ Left or Right”, “Right “ I said wondering what his end game was. He turned a series of rights that had us on an overlook, with the sunsetting over the lake. “ It’s beautiful here. “ taking in the vast view of the pinks and purples as the sun lowered its self into the horizon. “It is isn’t it,but I’m not talking about the sunset.” moving his seat back, just before he pulled me across into his lap bunching the sundress around my hips.

“Jay, what are we doing here?” his hands toying with the straps of the dress. “Whatever you want? Seemed like you had an idea in mind. So tell me, what do you want.” his eyes intensely focused on mine. A thrill ran up my spine, “ Kiss me” his mouth was on mine, his kiss was dominating, I might be leading but he was still in control. He bucked his hips in to me making me whimper. He started kissing down my jaw and neck as I grind against his lap, the feeling of his jeans through my panties providing friction on my clit was addictive. “ Put my hands where you want them “ his words playing in my ear . I moved them to my breasts. He pulled the straps down, as his hands began to tease them, pinching and rolling them between his well practiced fingers. I moaned out his name and tried to bury my head in his shoulder.

“Sweetheart, look at me, show me, tell me what you want?” this time the kiss was desperate. “Please Jay, i need you.” I fumbled with the button of his jeans, bringing out his hard length. Jays hands moved under my dress pulling my panties to the side, his fingers teasing me before positioning me over him. “So ready so wet so needy for me?” teasing me with just the tip . We both moaned at the sensation. “Yes, fuck yes.” Kissing him, as he pushed inside of me. “My girl taking me so well, so deep, riding me. Your pussy feels like heaven, squeezing around me.” his hands guiding my hips setting the pace“ Jay, I need more” I begged, he moved a hand between us finding my clit as his other stayed as the guide on my hip. His mouth went to my neck biting, sucking then kissing his favorite spot. “ What do you need?” he asked as the pressure built, no longer able to deny the orgasm that I’d been denying his thrusts beginning to break his controlled rhythm, “ Jay please” his fingers rubbing providing the last little bit of friction that I needed. I came hard around him, bring him with me as I felt his release our eyes never leaving each others . . He slowly let me come down, his touches soft, a tenderness to his kisses holding me close to him.

“ What was your original plan?” My breathing returning to normal. “ I didn’t have one. It was all up to you.” his hands rubbing my back. “ However, I have a blanket, and a cooler in the trunk. Let’s stay here a little while longer.”

#aew smut.#jay white x you #switchblade jay white smut #jay white smut #jay white x reader #jay white imagine #Spotify

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dakota-perry · 10 days

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full name — Dakota Perry

faceclaim — Madison Iseman

gender & pronouns — Female & She/Her

sexuality — Straight (As far as she knows)

age & birthday — 25 & October 2nd, 2000

Zodiac — Libra ☼ , Pisces ☾, Aries ↑

occupation — Stagehand @ The Stone Pony & Musician

hometown — Lexington, NE

living — Meadowlark Apts.

~Biographical Stuff~

Dakota grew up in Lexington, Nebraska to Caleb and Holly Perry.

Caleb became a Pastor at one of their local churches well before Dakota could clock a first memory. Holly a bible study teacher at the one and only private elementary school in town.

Childhood was made up of weekly church sermons, Wednesday & Sundays a given - TV was allowed, but only select channels and previewed wholly first by Caleb and Holly.

As children Dakota and her older brother Deacon— the golden child of sorts, would spend most the waking hours (outside Catholic school ofc) running a muck around town. Getting hands dirty in the sprawling farm lands until dinner time.

It wasn't until Dakota turned thirteen that she met her BFF India in home room at the only middle school in town (unfortunate for Caleb and Holly, it was public).

The two became inseparable and through their teachings and practices tolerated the fast friendship — India a product of one of the few "liberals" in town.

To say India and her family broadened Dakota's horizons is an understatement, as they grew up together, Dakota was submerged in a new culture and visa versa.

The later years of youth group when she started writing and performing — already knowing how to read music for playing piano for her fathers church all these years — here she discovered poetry and lyricism, guitar and band set up.

At eighteen her parents found out she had sex with her then bf (name so very unimportant lskdmf) and ended up kicking her out of the house, no sex before marriage and all that. So Dakota lived for the rest of the summer with India's family until India was headed to NYU.

Two weeks after and a sense of wearing out her welcome and restlessness on her end Dakota up and left to crash with India in her dorm for two weeks.

When that wasn't obviously sustainable (another wearing of a welcome, especially for newb roommate - though she was cool) Like fate knew when to hit her over her head, Dakota picked a "roadie wanted for traveling band" tag posted on one of the student bulletin boards on the campus.

Two days later she was on the road with Cody and the Drum Eaters.

Life of a roadie was exciting for sure, exhausting, scary, all of the above. That tour lasted a little over half the year taking her along the east coast and down south places she'd never thought possible just a couple weeks prior.

Ofc it's never all rainbows and sunshine — Dakota ended up in a relationship with one of the band members that was much older than her. That relationship alone opened her world yet again until the honeymoon ended the moment the tour did.

A new opportunity arose — woman to woman and few and far between in the roadie world, she landed another touring gig with a bigger band, (think The 1975 sound) High Shoulder.

A little more widespread than Cody's, Dakota got to travel if only even for hours at the time the west coast. In true fashion and maybe the Libra/Pisces combo she fell for the lead singer Adam.

When in middle of nowhere Arizona she got a call telling her of an opening at The Stone Pony in New Jersey — reality was she knew the tour was ending soon and she'd have nothing lined up and she sure wasn't going to go back to Nebraska, New York was out of the question, India now with a handful of roommates all her own— Asbury and the Stone Pony being the iconic venue it was felt right.

to add to the kismet of it all, it happened to the be the small jersey town her cousin on her dad's side, @alex-perry that she always liked was now located. She had to do it.

Dakota's been in Asbury now a year and a half working as a stagehand at The Stone Pony, writing her own music, playing around town at coffee shops and open mic nights. Making ends meet by dog walking with Rover and odd jobs to supplement the days nothing going on at The Stone Pony.

~Random Stuff~

is currently in the midst of learning the drums —it's been the most challenging instrument so far and she can be found at the stone pony on off hours using one of their sets. she has three tattoos, a cross on her middle finger, a matching set on her forearm for her best friend India, and her bf's name Adam on her ribcage (tragic I know)

does dabble in drugs, mostly psychedelics and vapes despite all warnings.

loves drinks with a fizz, almost always is drinking energy drinks and coffee.

hasn't fully caught up with pop culture and media that she missed growing up, always a learning curve. Currently into Glee, Parks and Rec, and Sons of Anarchy - (taking forever, its like going on 4 years now trying to get through) ~Possible Connections~

roommate - always can do roommates, good times.

fellow roadies from the past - or really anyone she'd come across on the road/in the touring world. anything's possible.

someone from NY/with her bestie - wasn't a long stint but she's been back to visit a lot especially now. Someone maybe that lives with her BFF that something went down with.

Nebraska folk - not likely but NEVER KNOW

Church goers - Dakota's got a lot of religious trauma to sort through, she's not fully left the church or the beliefs engrained in her. So someone in that realm perhaps.

an ex of her current bf Adam? Why not, some drama. Someone Adam's cheating with. (He's gaslighter a-hole to the max so) who says he's not doing it to someone else too? Legit down for anything, if there’s ideas toss them out. On dash chem is my favorite and just love winging it too! I’ll fill this all out more as time goes on for sure!

#asburyintro #musings #tw: religious trauma #tw: grooming

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domyoujihive · 1 year

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#spencer carlin #ashley davies #south of nowhere #south of nowhere stills #south of nowhere icons #spashley #spencer and ashley #gabrielle christian #mandy musgrave #spashley icons #2010s memories #2010s nostalgia #early 2010s #2010s tv #omg 2010s #omg icons

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sillyblondepsychos · 2 years

Photo

South of Nowhere [1x05]

#south of nowhere #south of nowhere icons #son #son icons #ashley #ashley davies icons #mandy musgrave #mandy musgrave icons #lesbian #bisexual #wlw #spashley #lgbt #queer #f/f #sbpicons

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seaslugfanclub · 10 months

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🦊 Foxes and 🩹Bandages

(Honest John x OC)

TW!: Blood, Violence, John gets the shit beat out of him…

“Fucking Mutt!”

Honest John reeled, his vision swimming as he was slammed into the brick wall behind the pub.

Usually when one of his scams went south, he and Gideon would be able to scurry away before their victims could confront them. If not, John would usually be able to defend himself when necessary, being a fox and all.

But tonight was one of those rare occasions where John picked the wrong sap to mess with. John had assumed he’d swindled yet another drunk in one of the countless pubs in town, but it wasn’t until he and Gideon exited through the back of the building that he realized the man they stole some fifty lira from in a game of jacked cards had followed them. With a vengeance and drunk rage.

Which is where John finds himself now.

The alcohol on his assaulter's breath only encouraged John to take shallow intakes due to it becoming increasingly painful to breath. A result of the drunk man’s knee being driven into Johns chest, moments prior to being picked up by his shirt(Johns cape long being torn off in the scuffle)

and being pressed into the stained wall. Where the man began to land blow after blow to John's face.

In between the punches John wondered where Gideon had run off too, having left the moment the first hit landed. Though no matter how angry and betrayed John wanted to be, he knew that he’d never done anything to deserve being supported by the cat.

So John tried his best to keep his eyes closed, hoping that this onslaught would end soon with the drunk getting all his anger out, but the man seemed to have no intention of stopping.

Through the dim light of the alleyway, John caught a shimmer of light reflecting off an object that the man began to pull out of his pocket, a flash of fear overriding all pain that John felt as he began to thrash pitifully.

A switchblade .

‘What a gruesome way to go,’ John mused to himself, spitting out a tooth. ‘Just as well though,such is the short life of a thief…’

John braced for impact, waiting for the man to dri-

*CRASH*

John felt two things at once; Shards of glass hitting his face, and the hands of the drunkard lifting off him, causing John to collapse onto the dirty cobblestone below. Even with the sound of blood pumping in his ears, he could hear a heavy thud. Then silence.

————————————————————————

It was a miracle that Gideon had found Ace, the cat sobbing as he tried to explain wordlessly that his friend was in trouble. Ace had half a mind to leave John to the consequences of his actions, maybe then he’d learn to stop his endless scamming. But with how half-mad with panic Gideon was, Ace relented and followed him to a dingy alleyway behind a pub. Finding Honest John getting the living shit kicked out of him.

Ace loomed over the unnamed man’s body, tightly clutching the now broken bottle that they used to slam over the drunkard head. The man was so consumed with rage that he didn’t notice the coyote sneaking up behind him, but he went down hard after a bottle was broken off his skull. Ace sniffed, cringing at the rank of the alleyway, the combined scent of blood and booze stinging in their snout.

All of that was quickly forgotten as weak groans broke the silence of the night, Ace instantly abandoning the shattered bottle as they rushed over to the crumpled and bloody body of Honest John.

“Johnny!!!”

Gently lifting his body, Ace inspected the entirety of John's form. His iconic hat was nowhere to be found with blood matting his fur, staining its fiery red color a dirty iron. His right eye was all but swollen shut, purple discoloration making its way through the cream color fur of John's snout. Even his snout looked crooked, causing his breaths to come out in shallow wheezes. His already ratty clothes were ripped to a state of disrepair, blood soaking the fabric around numerous cuts. To put it simply, things were looking really bad for Honest John.

“C’mon buddy, can you hear me!?” Ace rushed out, slapping John's face lightly. “John!?”

Honest John cracked open his eyes, and through blurred vision he could make out the worried expression of Ace hovering close, snouts almost touching.

“Coyo- Coyote?”

He wheezed, finding it hard to focus on their face, black spots dotting his already shaken vision. It hurt to talk, much less breath. Ace huffed in relief, happy that he wasn’t unconscious, if he was then his condition would’ve been too critical for Ace to deal with. And Ace wasn’t too confident that any doctors in the area would be keen on helping the town thief.

But Honest John was awake, albeit too weak to lift his own head up, and that was something Ace could handle.

“Yeah Johnny, it’s me. We’re gonna get you out of here. You’re gonna be alright..”

Careful not to rustle his limp body, Ace lifted John into their arms as they began to stand, now holding him bridal style. Ace could already feel John's blood beginning to soak through their shirt, furthering the seriousness of the situation.

John was too weak to protest being in Ace's arms, not even mustering up the strength to bite out a witty remark as he felt them speeding out of the alleyway and into the streets. He just surrendered to laying his head against Ace's chest, silently basking in the warmth of their body pressed into his. A more than welcomed contrast from laying in the cold alley.

John was too delirious to recognize where Ace was taking him, but in between bouts of consciousness he felt a small paw clutching onto his limp arm.

By the time Ace reached their flat, John was white as a sheet, even with his fur covering his body. They wasted no time rushing him to their bed, delicately setting him down on the old mattress. While relooking over John's wounds, they flinched as a small brown figure approached the bedside.

“Jesus Christ- Gideon!!”

Ace was so distracted with John, that they had almost forgotten Gideon, who hadn’t left their side since exiting the alleyway. Gideons usually dopey demeanor was now painted with worry, unsure of what to do, and looking wildly between Ace and John.

“Gideon, I need you to listen very closely. Do you understand?” Ace asked him as they began to unbutton John's shirt.

The scrappy feline bobbed his head up and down in acknowledgment, now leaning closer to Ace.

“Good. Now I need you to fetch the first aid kit underneath the kitchen sink. It’s a red box with a white cross on top. I’m gonna fetch some water to clean him up.”

With a thumbs up from Gideon, they split up from the bedside. Gideon pulled everything out from under the sink to reach the first aid kit, leaving an entire mess across the kitchen tile, and Ace filling up a bowl of water to the brim, not caring if it spilled as they rushed back to John's side, a towel laid over their shoulder.

Once Gideon delivered the kit to Ace, they bent down to look him in the eyes, “I’ll take it from here, why don’t you clean up yourself and get some rest. You can stay here as long as you promise not to nab anything while I’m working, understand?

Gideon made a cross over his heart, going off to find the washroom, before quickly turning around to give Ace a tight hug, and once again leaving the bedroom.

Brushing off the shock from being hugged by the mute cat, Ace turned their attention back to a now passed out John. Brushing the side of his snout with their palm.

“Get comfortable Johnny… It's gonna be a long night.”

————————————————————————

Honest John didn’t expect to wake up. Much less surrounded by comforting warmth and not the burning of fire and brimstone.

For the first seconds of him coming to, he thought he was in heaven. But then all the pain from the night prior hit him harder than the drunk, dashing away any idea of him being dead.

John groaned, he felt stiff. He tried to open his eyes, only to be blinded by bright light, causing him to tighten his eyes closed. After a couple of seconds to readjust, he opened his eyes again, this time much slower.

The first thing he saw was the early light of morning filtering through an open window to his right, a light breeze tickling John's fur. The second thing John noticed was that he was swamped in a thick blanket, laying in a small bed. The softness of the bed was virtually unfamiliar to John, who spent most of his nights huddled next to Gideon in alleyways or abandoned buildings, relying on his cape to keep the both of them warm.

Speaking of Gideon, there he was. Fast asleep beside him, sitting in a chair and resting his furry head on the mattress, soft snoring leaving his body. His fur was a notable shade lighter then when John last saw him, and he was wearing a long button down shirt that acted more like a dress due to his tiny stature.

“In God's name?….”

“He hasn’t left your side the entire night.”

Honest John flinched, a burst of adrenaline shooting through him as he whipped his head as a familiar someone entered the room.

“Ace..” John mumbled, watching the coyote grin wearily as they walked up to his side carrying with them a glass of water and a bottle of pills.

“Here, take this, the medicine will help with the pain.”

Ace spoke in a hushed tone, passing the water and two pills to John. Swallowing the aspirin, Honest John didn't realize how parched he was until he began to down the water, but he finished the entire glass in a matter of seconds. After a few seconds of silence between the canids, Honest John broke the quiet.

“What happened?”

Ace’s face hardened a bit, but it was a different sternness from the one they usually gave John when he was up to something, it looked almost… protective?

“You ate shit. It was really bad, John. I uh- I brought you home to clean you up. Your snout was crooked, and I had to wrap your arm up,” Ace motioned toward John's arm, which he now noticed was in a sling. “Yeah I think it’s broken, so I didn’t wanna risk it. Your ribs are most likely bruised, too.”

Now that Ace pointed it out, John realized he was shirtless, and covered ears to tail in bandages, the smell of rubbing alcohol permeating off of his fur.

“You sure that’s not an excuse to see me in a state of undress?” John teased.

“Shut up.”

Ace huffed in amusement, then gestured towards Gideon. “I don’t know how he found me, but if it weren’t for Gideon pulling me towards that pub, you would’ve fuckin’ died.”

John tore his eyes away from Ace, now looking back down at Gideon, who was still fast asleep. Emotions that John would usually sneer at began to bubble in his stomach, to think that he accused Gideon of running off on him…

“He really cares about you, Johnny..”

“What about you?”

Ace perked up, surprised as they looked down at a now wet eyed fox.

“Why did you follow him? Save me from certain death and take us to your house? Fix up a no good neerdowell like myself? I know you're not a naive do- gooder, there’s just no reason.” John accused the notion of being cared for feeling foreign.

Ace stayed quiet for a while, a little stiff, before they sighed.

“Honestly? I don’t- I don’t know. You're a total shit head. But you have people that actually want to be around you, I guess that includes myself- I dunno- I’m not good with this stuff.”

They shrugged, avoiding John's eyes.

“Oh Ace… try not to fall in love with me too quickly.”

John's avoidant quip brought Ace out of any sentimentality they felt, barking out a laugh and gently shoving John's good shoulder. The shy air quickly dissipated between them as a familiar banter began. In between chuckles, John spoke quietly,

“Your not so terrible as I thought, Coyote”

“…. You're welcome John.”

. . .

“.Can I wear a shirt of yours too?”

“Wh- Y’know what- Sure.”

————————————————————————

I’m sure you all are only here for silly (Y/N) shenanigans, but I was really proud of this and wanted to post it somewhere! Don’t worry, I’ll get back to our regular schedule soon!

#disney villains #self insert #disney imagine #oc insert #oc x canon #honest john #pinnochio #hurt/comfort #f/o imagines

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