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redhairedfeistynerd · 4 years

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The Art of Folding Laundry

Pairing: singledad!Bucky x reader

Summary: A moment of silence is all Bucky needs.

Words: 1700

Warnings: Fluff, kids (Bucky’s kids)

A/N: This is part of my singledad!Bucky series.

Slivers of light are starting to peek through the wooden blinds in the family room, he knows he only has another hour or so before the girls wake up. They’ll poke their heads in, bleary eyed and asking him to make a special breakfast; most likely an omelet or waffles with fresh berries.

He takes a deep breath in and enjoys the silence. The few memories of quiet days rotating around his head, usually when the girls sleep or if they spend a night at a friend's house. Memories of life before fatherhood pop up from time to time. The battles, the carnage, the loneliness.

He doesn’t belong to that world anymore.

He’s part of a world that once had dirty diapers and burp cloths and now his world is full of hair braiding and unicorns.

And everything is calm during these wee hours of the morning.

The calmness, the eerie stillness around him before he would fire off a shot from his rifle. This, this was the calm that spread over him now, as he reached over to pull another towel into his hands. Corner to corner, fold, corners again, fold, and they better match up perfectly.

Add it to the pile.

Repeat.

Bucky found great comfort in folding the laundry.

Pick up another towel from the basket. Fold. Repeat. He often felt that it was therapeutic; his brain stopped running in circles, his thoughts generally focusing around the girls.

His girls.

He has a hard time remembering what life was like before them. They consume his thoughts most days. Every leaf that falls, every laugh he hears – he thinks of his girls.

Maybe he’s getting softer with each year that passes. There are no longer missions for him to go on; he gave that up long ago, when fatherhood became his number one job.

Piper came first; silently she fell into this world (and his arms) 8 years ago. He cut the cord and she was handed over to him first, her tiny eyes looked up and he swore that she knew he was her dad. Bucky had never felt love like that before and if anything, it got stronger as each day passed.

He pleaded for a second child and 15 months later, Riley was born. Oh, and did she come into this world screaming; red faced and hands in fists, punching at the cold air. Every day for the last 6 years has been an adventure with his younger daughter. She was the fire he needed, the motivation; his strength to keep going each day and to not give up.

He was forever in debt to his daughters for making him a better person.

And then there was you.

He couldn’t put a name to it yet, whatever it was that was going on.

Friend, confidant, oh he wishes he could up the ante. Lady friend, sweetheart, lover. He shouldn’t get so far ahead; his fantasies were pulling him deeper. He hadn’t even...

“OOF!”

The sudden shout and then feeling of sinking yanked him out of his dream-like state. He heard her giggles before he saw her limbs flailing from the centre of the laundry pile beside him on the couch.

“Daddy you had the goofiest look on your face and you were bitin’ at your lip and you didn’t even hear me do my sneak attack. I must be getting really good at the super spy stuff!” Riley laughed, pushing the wash cloths and towels to the floor.

Bucky tries to make a serious dad face at Riley but the washcloth resting on her strawberry blonde curls has his smiling ear to ear. “You goof,” he laughs, swiping the blue cloth off of her head.

“But I am the best super spy, right Pops? Better than Pip, right?” She crawls out of the pile and into his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“Yes, my sweet girl, even better than Pips. BUT she rules when it comes to listening to other people’s... CONVERSATIONS!” Bucky reaches his left arm behind the couch and scoops up his oldest daughter, who is so full of laughter than her face is turning red and tears and almost springing from her bright blue eyes.

“POPPPPPPS!! PUT. ME. DOWN!”

He knows this is the end of his alone time but it is also the beginning of a new day with his daughters –and nothing will ever top that.

He does wonder about you though. What are you doing this morning? Are you sleeping still? Maybe you are thinking about him as well. He watches Piper and Riley scamper off into the kitchen and hears the clank of the bowls and utensils that girls are taking out of the drawers. Once they are out of sight, he picks his phone up from the side table and opens up his messages. Last message, two days ago – he had wished you good luck before you went for your review at work. He should send you a quick text, see how things went. Maybe you wanted to come over for breakfast. He tapped a short message and sent it off, leaving it open for her to pop by anytime this morning.

Maybe she would fold laundry with him between giggles and quick kisses while the girls ran around in the back yard.

Maybe the girls could go by their friend's house and he could forget about the laundry and kiss you longer and brush the hair back from your face. You would shy away and hide behind it but he would want to see the way your eyes sparkled before and after his lips were on yours.

“Pops, can we have waffles? The yummy chocolate ones you make, please?” Riley asks pushing her face right into his.

“Yes, yes. How about you pull out the mix and set everything up on the counter, ok?”

“Sure thing,” she says, smiling wide, clearly happy that she can help Bucky and have her breakfast of choice.

The girls are silent as they scoop berries and whip cream into their mouths; their waffles have long been devoured (he has left two for you in the oven, he knows you how much you love them). There’s a quick tapping at the front door and it opens slowly, your voice shouting “Barnes family, I have come to eat all of your waffles! Where are you hiding them?”

Riley stands up on her chair shouting “In the oven! THE OVEN!”

“Oh Barnsey, trying to keep me away from my sweet waffles. I see how it is.” She walks towards where Bucky is sitting at the table and reaches out, tickling the back of neck and giggling.

He pretends to be annoyed and tries to brush her hands off of his neck but she is determined to make him squeal, maybe even scream. Standing up from his chair, her hands still trying to tickle him, he turns quickly and pretends he is going to lunge at her. His girls are quick though and wrap themselves around him, Riley has managed to cling to his right leg, while Piper is pulling his left arm and telling him she is stronger than his fancy arm. Their giggling is contagious and he can’t help but join in. Once their laughter seizes, he unwraps his youngest from him leg and sends them off to get washed and dressed for the day. They both hug y/n and set off upstairs to get changed.

She moves to the oven and reaches in with her bare hand to retrieve a waffle, instantly taking a bit of the warm square. “Oh, these are extra good today, did you put extra love in it for me,” she says winking at him and hopping down the steps to the family room. She takes one look at the laundry on the couch and floor and raises her left eyebrow. “Well Barnes, you sure know how to rile a girl up,” she says poking at the laundry on the couch. “Are these the kind of dates you have planned for me?”

Bucky just stares and keeps staring until he starts feeling a bit uncomfortable and he knows that you can tell because a smile is slowly forming on your lips. She moves forward and before he knows what you are doing (he would have been a horrible super soldier around you) you’ve tackled him down on the couch. He smirks and thinks that, this is where he wanted you in the first place and now that he has you here, what is he going to do with you. A week has passed since you had kissed, while lying in the backyard, staring at the clouds together. He’s pulled out of his thoughts when you shift above him, straddling him and staring back into his eyes.

“Well Barnes, do I get to kiss you now?” Her left eyebrow has lifted as the she speaks; he loves how she looks at the very moment and nods his head in response. “Good. A week was too long not being able to be this close to you.”

Oh, and does he ever want to be closer than this with you.

She leans down, her hair tickling his face right before their lips are touching, Bucky’s flesh hand moves to her side rubbing it softly and shifting her dress around. “Better not lift that too high Barnsey, you don’t want your girls to see anything.”

“That’s not, that’s not what I was tryin’ to...”

“I’m just trying to work you up, you goof. I know you wouldn’t even fathom doing something like that.” She leans runs a hand through his hair and leans down into another kiss.

He hears their feet, elephant like, bounding down the stairs and quickly shifts y/n off into the laundry pile that still remains on his couch. “Is this your way of telling me that you want me to finish folding your laundry? You could have just asked instead of throwing me into it,” she jokes.

Bucky chuckles at her smart-ass response and turns to catch Riley as she is about to wrap her arms around his neck.

“Ha! Not this time, sweet pea! I heard you thumping down the stairs like a wild animal!” He pulls his youngest into a big bear hug and kisses the top of her head. “Go get your shoes on and we’ll meet you in the backyard, ok?” He watches Riley run off to grab Piper and their shoes a nd when he turns back around to give y/n a quick kiss she whispers in his ear,

“So, what’s our next date? Are you going to teach me how to fluff the pillows on your bed?”

#bucky barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes and you #bucky barnes and reader #singledad!bucky #bucky barnes fluff #my writing #redwrites

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footballffbarbiex · 5 years

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It's a suggestion but why not do one where the couple going skiing for the holidays, like Rafinha tales his girlfriend up to the lodge all cosy and they go skiing and afterwards join on another in the hot tub

Winter Lodge.

When Rafinha had first suggested taking her on holiday, she’d been over the moon with excitement. It would be their first couple holiday and she was happy at the thought of spending some time away from where they lived to relax and not have to think about their normal lives but when he said that he was looking at skiing, the excitement began to disappear. She’d never gone skiing before and the last thing she wanted was to fall arse over tit and make a total fool of herself.

She wasn’t shy when it came to goofing around and she was always the first to pull the prank card but there was just something about this that scared her. He’d settled her nerves the best he could. They started out small and slow, he helped to teach her the basics and promised not to let her go anywhere without him. On a few occasions, she had started to veer off but Rafinha was there next to her guiding her back and slowing her to a stop once it was safe to do so. She couldn’t deny the fact that she actually enjoyed it. When they stopped for something to eat, she was actually looking forward to getting back out there. Though it wasn’t until she got back to the lodge that she realized how much she’d done.

Once kicking off the boots and peeling herself out of the ski suit, she began to feel the ache. “It hurts less the more you do it. It’s a big work out baby,” Rafinha had laughed, placed a kiss to the back of her neck and encouraged her to the shower. She pulled on warm comfortable clothes, sat back and relaxed at Rafinha’s encouragement as he took over in the cabin’s kitchen. With a big open fireplace that created a cosy atmosphere and just the right amount of heat once it was going, she’d not hesitated to lay on the rug and watch her man at work.

Rafinha was an exceptional cook and took to the kitchen whenever he could. He loved trying something new and she’d come home excited for what’s coming up. Tonight had been no exception but it seemed even more perfect in this environment. With it’s old wooden beams, it was a perfect mix of modern and traditional. The two complimented each other without being a mash up fighting for a better look. The kitchen had a large wood burning range cooker, floor to ceiling windows which allowed you to look out at the slopes. She didn’t want to think how much this trip would have cost him but the views were incredible and she felt lucky to have the chance to be there.

“I think we should go out there,” he says once their plates are emptied and cleared away. Their bellies are comfortably full, their cheeks hurt from laughing about their day and their bodies just ache. “To the hot tub already?” she wiggles her eyebrows. “Well there’s chocolate strawberries in the fridge, think they thought we were honeymooning because there’s also some champagne.”“That would explain the rose petals on the bed and the swan towels.” She comments and he laughs again. “I promise I didn’t say anything like that when I booked it.”“You’re so set against marrying me?” she says with mock hurt. “Wow, I’m truly offended. There I was thinking you were my happy ending and you’re trying to find someone else.”He licks his lips and shakes his head. “I’m not starting this, but you can go and get changed and I’ll meet you in that tub.”

She does as he asks and makes her way to the bedroom to gather several big towels for the two of them and changes into her bathing suit of choice. The heat from the fireplace is spreading through the cabin, making sure each room is warm and perfect. With a final look towards the bed and her looking forward to climbing into it later, she makes her way back through the cabin and steps out onto the decking area. Rafinha has set up candles, he’s brought drinks out and clean glasses, the strawberries are there too and he’s already in the tub waiting.

He’s waiting for her reaction. The hot tub looks across the mountains which with the twinkly lights of the area, are still viewable in the dark. He knows it’s a stunning view and he’s hoping to make tonight memorable.“It’s stunning here.” She says, dropping the towels onto a chair and steadily climbs in, careful of her footing and not wanting to fall in. “Have you been before?” she asks, moving next to him but he slides her across with little effort thanks to the way she moves within the water and positions her between his legs with her back to his chest. His arms are around her waist and he holds her there with the two of them looking across the valley. “No, friends have and when I saw their pictures I knew I had to bring you here. I know I could have taken you somewhere hot, somewhere exotic but I wanted something different. Where we could truly be on our own.”“I don’t tell you enough, but I love you.” She turns to look at him and not for the first time in their relationship, she marvels at his beauty. He was the most handsome man she’d ever looked at in the flesh and it was her that he wanted. She turns enough to face him properly, her hand reaching out behind him and plucks fruit from the plate and runs it over his mouth until he opens and bites half of the berry. “You make me happy,” she says before biting the rest of it. “A good start to our winter break?”“A very good start.” She grins and leans in to kiss him.

_____________

Forever tags: @starkrogerspls , @neymarlionelmessi7 , @elle-aaron , @rafinhasmarco, @djikhead, @kxndrixx , @pasate-la-acuarela, @imakemyselfcringe , @leduqdefoot , @fangirlinsince1998 , @fcbarcafics , @paul–pogba , @msgem , @grizifc , @xxsophie-raabxx , @stxnesy , @degea-drama-llama , @jxmesr10 , @evie-pr , @i-ship-it-okay @softstonsey @pau-dybala, @antoine-james ,

bold and struck out doesn’t mean I don’t love you, it just means tumblr can’t find you. If you’ve changed your username and wish to still be tagged, please let me know.

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someobscurereference · 6 years

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Hello! Sorry for the random drop by but I was wondering, for leo/odin/niles. They are;;; my favorite pairing in existence cause of you lol But, do you have any headcanons for how they might spoil each other? Or cheer each other up? Odin and Niles seem to love umm, teasing and attempting to dote (or maybe it's just another form of teasing lol) on Leo and I love how you write all of thier smaller, quieter actions being full of such consideration to each other at times (pt. 1)

(pt. 2) and it’s made me wonder. Like, what would be something that Niles or Odin (or both) could do that would leave Leo actually feeling really spoiled/happy/what have you and that lead to me asking that question for the other two as well. I could;;; type more and more cause I’ve actually think about this these three all the time lol I hope this isn’t a bother! I just really really love your writing and interpretation of these three and thought I’d ask ^^; I hope you are having a good day!

Hey! I love Leo/Niles/Odin too, so being asked about them is never an issue, lol. So no worries! You’re never a bother! (And thank you so much, also! I’m really glad you like my fics!!) Odin and Niles really do love to dote and tease at the same time, tbh. Of course I’m flashing back to every time they show up and get in Leo’s personal space like “WE MISSED YOU” even though Leo is like “… it’s been an hour… your faces are too close. Please.” And then also the beach DLC where they fight for Leo to get relaxing beach time and outright ignoring the fact Leo Does Not Want To Go. (And also both of them saying ridiculous stuff the whole time, so while they really mean the sentiment, I think they’re partly goofing as well, lol)

As for cheering/spoiling headcanons…

I think Leo really does enjoy when Niles and Odin get super close and basically hug either side of him at once, lol. I don’t think it’s entirely a joke when Leo tells them to get off (since usually they do it at very inconvenient times and Leo probably does enjoy his personal space) but I think it’s also part of their dynamic as well. Like when you have an ongoing recurring joke with your friends. As much as he fusses, I think Leo would actually be wondering why Niles and Odin didn’t get all up in his personal bubble if they didn’t do it for a while. Or if they were away for a long time and couldn’t. And after a bad day, they might do it to help cheer him up or comfort him for a minute since their hugging him usually involves a lot of “We missed you!! You’re the best!!” in canon. Leo might still fake fuss, but it could definitely help. Getting hugged and told you’re the literal best person ever usually does, haha

In relation to this, if smothering Leo doesn’t cheer him up and they can’t fix whatever is bothering him, Niles and Odin strike me as the type to just, like? Be goofy with each other? Not that they’re comedians, but they do have a dynamic that, after Niles grew to trust Odin, can be rather fun. For example, during the beach brawl:

Odin: “Defeat? Allow me to pluck that word out of the air before it spoils the mood.”

Niles: “And allow me to lay it gently back upon your tongue, O prince.”

They like to play off each other! And there are a bunch more examples I could use. But they’re funny! So I think they could also get into a back and forth conversation in the way that they do that Leo would enjoy if he were listening in, even if he were outwardly telling them to be serious. Because it’s something familiar and lighthearted and it can be nice to listen to two people you care about have a fun conversation even when you’re feeling down and out. (And on the flip side I think this might count as cheering up Odin or Niles too, if they were having a bad day and got drawn into this familiar dynamic.)

In terms of spoiling… I think Niles and Odin try to go above and beyond when it comes to retainer stuff already? And Leo does really admire that. But in the romantic sense, I think they’re the same way. Like, “Oh, our anniversary is coming up? I’ll find him the most delectable chocolates in all of Nohr! The finest everything!” And Niles has cleared Leo’s whole schedule so he’s free for the whole day as well, while meanwhile Leo is like “… I like being busy and I don’t like these foods. But thank you.”

Which isn’t to say it’s always stuff Leo doesn’t enjoy, because I think he does like it in a certain way. And often times it’s stuff he protests and ends up enjoying a ton!! (Like the Beach DLC!) But I think it’s basically Niles and Odin always trying to go that extra 110% in everything. To the point where Leo might say it’s too much, lol. But he really recognizes effort and often really enjoys himself too. They probably do things very right a lot of the time (probably most of the time) and seeing them go through so much work in an effort purely to make him happy even when it’s not strictly necessary probably warms his heart a bit.

Niles:

For Niles being really happy… Niles kind of seems to divide his life into pre and post-Leo world and while there is a lot to say about his and Leo’s support, Niles also says he’s not worthy of “such high praise” by Leo calling himself “lucky to have such a loyal and trustworthy retainer [such as Niles].” So I think anything where Leo emphasized how glad he was to have Niles around and the change their lives had taken as well would probably be pretty good, even if there was a brief “No, it’s the other way around” protest from Niles at first.

So basically an emphasis from Leo to say he feels similarly to Niles or to validate Niles’s feelings, even if Leo doesn’t entirely agree with the way Niles always frames things, might make him feel pretty good. If it were a big moment or just a casual conversation between them, I think Niles would enjoy that either way.

In terms of Odin in the mix here, there may be another divide in Niles’s life between the time Niles was Leo’s only retainer and when it was Niles&Odin both as Leo’s retainer too? So something that causes Niles to recognize that he likes Odin being around now even if he disliked Odin at first might be a somewhat fun thing too. A here/there contrast, you could say.

Maybe on a particularly bad day or even a normal day where Odin just wants to mix things up or surprise Niles, I can see Odin dropping like one (1) little fact about his past into the conversation and enticing Niles to unravel the impossible mystery of his past a bit more. Just something small. Like the fact his mother also had blonde hair or that he grew up around a castle until he didn’t anymore. Little things that aren’t actually any proof of anything or can be really connected anywhere (or be proven not to be connected anywhere) but might make Niles interested anyway. Just something little that might make Niles perk up with interest.

(This is ignoring the fact that Odin and Niles might even get tense about Odin’s past sometimes? See: Their Support Convo. Like, Leo straight up doesn’t give single fuck about where any of them came from and Niles, though he has his own troubles with memory and his own past, doesn’t like when other people can get away with hiding theirs? Because the mystery might be something dangerous? But, like, in contexts when it’s lighthearted, you know? There can be a back and forth there where it’s fun instead of Tense.)

Plus anytime Niles gets Leo to chill out and indulge himself might count as making Niles happy as well, lol.

For spoiling… That’s a hard one! Hmm. Probably if Leo and Odin made things about him for a while, that’d be good. I don’t think Niles is a super material person? Like, he knows the value of goods and money and especially the absence of them, but I don’t think he has a ton that he wants now that he has Leo (and then later Odin), material-wise. Sure a new bow or cloak or something is nice and he’d probably value it, but I don’t know if that counts as spoiling? I think more along the lines of Leo and Odin telling Niles not to worry about his duties for a while and just sit with them and spend some easy time together without worrying or trying to do work would probably count more.

Niles doesn’t strike me as being lazy very often since I think even the moments he’s sitting down somewhere, he’s thinking and is in his head a lot. So Leo and Odin spending a bit of time with him and keeping him out of his own head (or letting him be in his head and sharing that headspace/memories with them without feeling uncomfortable) might be a nice time. Just talking, you know? Maybe that sounds simple, but Niles strikes me as the type to like it when people listen when he speaks, especially when it’s about his past. It’s something he’s sharing, you know?

Which might be a weird thing to say since he talks about his past a lot in supports? But that’s usually to explain himself or make a point. So like. Just listening and being there and not apologizing for things none of them had any control over might be nice, outside the usual context of explaining why he likes watching privileged people be miserable and more in the context of just sharing. That might be nice.

Odin:

This one is weird because it’s a kind of specific scenario I think about a lot? (Like… Idk, my go-to scenario for indulgence stuff, I guess, even though I’ve never written it?) For some reason in my head, I picture Odin as being the type to like “treat” types of food a lot, probably drawing back to Awakening when his whole support with Noire is about eating cake and indulgences they didn’t get because of war rations/Bad Timeline stuff. This definitely covers all dessert type foods but even stuff like a box of strawberries or something probably count too.

I promise you he can eat a whole carton (like you’d buy at the store now, not like a crate, lol) and eat the whole thing for lunch or something. So I like to think maybe Niles buys him some fruit like that from the market from time to time or Leo sets something from the kitchen aside that he knows Odin would really like, and Odin is very happy every time

This might count as spoiling if they did it enough/it was a really good treat, lol. It kind of contrasts by being a physical item as opposed to Niles’s enjoying the company more. Which isn’t to say Odin doesn’t or enjoys that less! It’s just different.

He probably eats off their plates if they don’t finish their food, tbh

In terms of spoiling, probably any time they play along with his theatrics dialogue instead of telling him to cut it out, that feels pretty good. Even though that seems a little obvious, haha. Odin really does enjoy it though!

And Leo probably finds it really embarrassing (Niles too, but maybe slightly less or he at least hides it better), so for them to really put an effort into playing along would be fun/indulgent for Odin as well as well. Definitely a way to lift the mood if Odin is feeling down and out!

I’ve been dividing these actions into happy/feeling spoiled this whole time, but there’s probably a lot of crossover, tbh? It probably depends on mood and how everyone is feeling at the time and how the day has gone so far/what lead up to some of this extra stuff.

In general spending time together is good too.

A lot of this is rambling, so I’ll stop here for now, lol. I hope you had a good day too! Thanks for asking!

#my text #my asks #fe14 #niles #leo #odin #nilesleodin #odinilesleo #leodiniles #long post

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samanthasroberts · 7 years

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‘None of the old rules apply’: Dave Eggers travels through post-election America

From dazed election night revellers in Washington DC to a gay Trump voter in Detroit to kids in Kentucky … The US writer gauges the mood of a divided nation

The word surreal is overused and often wrongly used, but in the case of the Washington Post Election Night Live party, the word was apt. First of all, it was a disco. There was a DJ playing a frenetic mix of contemporary Top 40 and pointedly apropos songs such as Pat Benatars Hit Me With Your Best Shot (Youre a real tough cookie with a long history ). Behind the DJ there were dozens of screens showing various television networks coverage of the election. The screens were so bright and so huge, and the colours so primary and vivid, that the experience was like being trapped inside an enormous jar of jelly beans.

Women dressed like Vegas showgirls made their way through the crowd with towering tiered hats adorned with chocolates from one of the evenings sponsors. The chocolates, round and the size of strawberries, were offered in pairs, enclosed in loose plastic sacks a bizarre but perhaps intentionally lewd optic? The bartenders were setting out Campari Americanos by the dozens. The food was by chefs Jos Andrs and the brothers Voltaggio. The Washington Post has a right to celebrate the paper is thriving and its political coverage extraordinary but this felt like Rome before the fall.

At some point early on, the music was turned down for 20 minutes so Karen Attiah of the Post could moderate a live conversation between the current German ambassador, Peter Wittig, and former Mexican ambassador Arturo Sarukhan. The talk was serious and enlightening, but the ambassadors seemed baffled by the nightclub atmosphere, and besides, few people were listening. The party was about the party.

And everyone expected Hillary Clinton to win. The attendees were largely Washington insiders lobbyists, staffers, legislative aides, pundits and producers. Most were liberal and most were confident. The nights only potential for suspense centred around whether or not Clinton would take some of the toss-up states, like Florida and North Carolina. When she was declared the winner which was expected before the partys scheduled end-time of 10 oclock there would be talk of who would be appointed what, with a not-insignificant portion of the partygoers in line for positions in the new administration.

Thus the mood was ebullient at seven oclock, when the event started, and was electric by eight. Kentucky and Indiana were announced for Donald Trump and that news was met with a shrug. More scantily clad women walked through the rooms serving hors doeuvres, and soon there were at least three showgirls wearing hats of towering testicle-chocolates. Young Washingtonians swayed to the music. Drinks were set under chairs and spilled. A young girl in a beautiful party dress walked through the drunken partygoers looking for her parents.

Then nine oclock came around and the party began to turn. Most of the states thus far had gone for Trump. None of these victories was unexpected, but the reddening of the national map was disheartening, and the margins in those states were often greater than expected. He took Texas, North Dakota, Kansas, Mississippi. Not a problem for the crowd, but by 9.30, people were panicking. Trump was leading in Florida and North Carolina. Nate Silver, the statistics shaman who had been roundly criticised for overestimating Trumps chances, now posted that a Trump victory was likely. Ohio was in the bag, Pennsylvania was trending toward him, and it looked like he could win Wisconsin and Michigan. A hundred guests turned their attention from the big screens to their little screens. They paced and made calls. The party emptied and we all spilled into the streets. Beyond the Washington Post building and beyond DC, the country had been swamped by a white tsunami few saw coming.

Election night at The Washington Post. Photograph: The Washington Post/Getty Images

For a few hours, the city had the feeling of a disaster movie. People scurried this way and that. Some wandered around dazed. Following the returns, we travelled from restaurant to bar to home, and the Somali and Ethiopian cabbies were stunned, worried less about Trump than about the prospect of Rudy Giuliani serving in the cabinet in any capacity. We all talked about where we will move: Belize; New Zealand; Canada. We no longer knew our own country. In Columbia Heights, when the election was settled, a young woman biking up the hill stopped, threw her bike into the middle of the road, sat on a kerb and began weeping. No no no no, she wailed.

The omens were there if you looked. A month before the election, Id driven from Pittsburgh to the Philadelphia suburbs and saw nothing but Trump/Pence signs. In three days I covered about 1,200 miles of back roads and highway some of the prettiest country you can find on this continent and saw not one sign, large or small, in support of Clinton. The only time any mention of her was made at all was on an enormous billboard bearing her face with a Pinocchio nose.

I did see Confederate flags. James Carville, the political strategist, recently quipped that Pennsylvania is Pittsburgh and Philadelphia with Alabama in between, and there is some truth to that. There are a lot of men in camouflage jackets. There are a lot of men out of work. When you stop at gas stations, the magazine sections are overwhelmed by periodicals devoted to guns, hunting and survival. Then there are the tidy farms and rolling hills, the equestrian centres with their white fences, the wide swaths of Amish and Mennonites and Quakers.

I was in rural Pennsylvania to see the United 93 National Memorial in Shanksville a monument to the 40 passengers and crew who died in a windswept field on 9/11. The day I visited was bright and clear. The surrounding country was alive with autumn colours and, far on distant ridgelines, white windmills turned slowly. Just off the parking lot, a park ranger in forest green was standing before a diverse group of middle school students, admonishing them. Boys and girls. Boys and girls, he said. Youre standing here where people died. There are still human remains here. Youre goofing around and laughing, and I shouldnt have to tell you to be respectful. They deserve that. They quieted for a moment before one of the boys nudged another, and the giggling began again.

Trump supporters rally in Oceanside, California. Photograph: Bill Wechter/AFP/Getty Images

The memorial is beautifully constructed and devastating in its emotional punch. Visitors can walk the flightpath of the plane, a gently sloping route down to the crash site, which is separated from the footpath by a low wall. Its a grave, another ranger explained. So we dont walk there. Higher on the hill, there is an indoor visitor centre that recreates every moment of the day in excruciating detail. There are video loops of the Twin Towers being destroyed, fragments of the plane, pictures and bios of every passenger, details about the calls they made from the plane once they knew they would die. It is shattering.

Leaving the museum, a man in front of me, young and built like a weightlifter, couldnt push the door open. I reached over him to help and he turned to thank me. His face was soaked with tears. I got into my car, shaken but heartened by the courage of the 40 humans who had realised what was happening that they were passengers on a missile headed for the White House or Capitol building and had sacrificed their lives to save untold numbers in Washington DC. The American passengers of United 93 were from 35 different cities in 11 different states, but they died together to save the capital from incalculable loss of lives and what might have been a crippling blow to the nations psyche.

I left the memorial and turned on to a two-lane road, part of the Lincoln Highway that runs through the state part of the first coast-to-coast highway in the United States. Just beyond a sign advertising home-grown sweetcorn, there was a residential home, the first house anyone might encounter when leaving the United Memorial, and on this home, there is a vast Confederate flag draped over the front porch.

Its important to note that this was the Lincoln Highway. And that the civil war ended 160 years ago. And that Pennsylvania was not a state in the Confederacy. So to see this, an enormous Confederate flag in a Union state, a mile from a symbol of national tragedy and shared sacrifice, was an indicator that there was something very unusual in the mood of the country. Ancient hatreds had resurfaced. Strange alliances had been formed. None of the old rules applied.

The Flight 93 National Memorial in Shanksville, Pennsylvania. Photograph: Mark Makela/Reuters

Steven McManus has come out of the closet twice. First as a gay man, then as a Trump supporter. We were sitting at a coffee shop in Detroits Eastern Market neighbourhood, and McManus was almost vibrating. This was two days after Trumps election, and McManus was elated about the victory, yes, but more personally, about the fact that after Trumps election, hed had the courage to post a message on social media declaring his support of the president-elect.

I lived a lot of my life as a closeted guy, McManus said, and the liberation I felt as a man coming out was similar to how I felt coming out for Trump. You really truly think youre the only one who has these feelings. Its liberating. I felt it was time to come out again.

McManus is a thin man in his late 30s, bald and bespectacled, with a close-cropped beard. He grew up in the part of the Detroit suburbs known as Downriver. Many of the areas residents had come from the American south in the 1940s to work in the auto factories, and the area still retains a southern feel. His father was a salesman who brokered space on trucking lines. Looking back on it now, McManus appreciated the fact that his parents could raise five children on one salesmans salary. But then came the Nafta, and the gutting of much of the Detroit auto manufacturing base. McManus watched as Detroit and Flint hollowed out and caved in.

Trump was the only candidate talking about the trade imbalance, McManus said. Being a businessman, a successful businessman, he understood why business decision-makers, at the highest levels of their companies, move their production overseas. McManus was angry when auto companies, after receiving bailouts from the US government in 2009, continued to move production to Mexico. In Detroit, we gave America the middle class. But this is now a false economy. The housing market is decimated, and the middle class is shrinking. I want someone to shake it up. Lets move the whole country forward.

McManus is not blind to the rareness of an openly gay man supporting Trump. But I dont have to vote a certain way based on my sexuality. In my mind weve moved beyond having to vote Democrat just because youre gay. And hes not worried about a reversal of the hard-fought right to marriage gays just achieved. Weve got our rights now, he said. Its settled. McManus and his husband got married three years ago in New York, before the supreme court decision legalised gay marriage nationwide, and it was in his new place of domestic tranquillity that McManus watched the Republican national convention. Two moments affected him profoundly. First was the appearance of Peter Thiel, the former CEO of PayPal, who was given a prime speakers spot and said from the stage, Every American has a unique identity. I am proud to be gay. I am proud to be a Republican. But most of all, I am proud to be an American.

McManus was moved then, but he was even more affected by an unscripted part of Trumps speech. It was shortly after the Orlando massacre, and for the first time in my life, a Republican candidate for president said things like, forty-nine wonderful Americans, or beautiful Americans or whatever he said, were savagely murdered. And he said, I will protect gay and lesbian individuals. Some people at the convention cheered and some people didnt cheer. And then Trump said, off the cuff and off the teleprompter, he said, For those of you who cheered, I thank you. And I cried. I cried.

McManuss husband works for the army, as an IT specialist, and they both became bothered by Clintons email setup. If my husband had done the same thing, hed be fired. And its pretty hard to get fired from a government job. McManus began to follow Trump more closely, and found that he was agreeing with most of hispositions on trade, immigration and national security. I began to realise that Im more conservative than I thought. But he couldnt reveal this. He lives in Detroit, a liberal city, and works in the restaurant industry in town, where left-leaning politics dominate. But after coming out as a Trump supporter, he is finding himself emboldened. The day after the election, McManus saw his doctor, who is Muslim, and he mentioned that hed voted for Trump.

I just wanted to get it off my chest. I was feeling a little McManus sits up in his chair, to indicate the new confidence he felt that day. I told him, I came out as a Trump supporter today. And he went off for 15 minutes to the point where I almost walked out. He was impassioned about how he felt that Trump was disenfranchising Muslim-Americans. But our present state of terrorism does have a religious undertone to it. Finally I managed to get something off my chest. I cant remember who said this to me, either my husband or my ex, but I said to my doctor, You know, it wasnt a group of Catholic nuns that flew planes into the World Trade Center.

Proud to be a Republican Peter Thiel. Photograph: ddp USA/REX/Shutterstock

Later that night in Detroit, I ran into Rob Mickey, a professor of political science. He grew up in Texas, but has spent about 10 years teaching at the University of Michigan in Ann Arbor. We were at a party benefiting an educational nonprofit. Doing something concrete and positive felt good, and being around kids felt good, but everyone was exhausted no one had slept since the election and 30 seconds into every conversation it turned to Trump, Clinton, what had gone wrong and what would happen next. One of the events attendees had been living in a central American cloud forest for years, and there was much talk about following her down there.

I told Mickey about McManus, and to him, the story of the gay Trump supporter was both surprising and unsurprising. Everything about 2016 was upside down. Parts of Michigan who had voted twice for Obama had turned to Trump. Rob and his wife Jenny had gone canvassing for Clinton on the Sunday before the election, and the reception they received was not warm.

I would say it was hostile, he said.

They had gone to Milan, Michigan, an overwhelmingly white town 50 miles southwest of Detroit. Its spelled like the Italian town, but pronounced MY-lan, Rob pointed out. The Clinton campaign had given Rob and Jenny a list of names and addresses of white working-class residents who had registered as Democrats but were labelled sporadic voters. Milan had voted for Obama in 2008 and 2012, and winning towns such as Milan was key to delivering a Clinton victory in Michigan.

The homes they visited were run-down, with No Soliciting placards on every door. They saw no Clinton signs on anyones lawn. There were Trump signs scattered around town, but most of the residents they met were disgusted by the entire election. One woman said, I dont want to have nothing to do with that, Mickeyrecalled. Another said, I hate them both, including that guy of yours. When I pointed out that our candidate was a woman, she said, Whatever and slammed the door.

One house with a Bernie Sanders sign on the lawn looked promising. Mickey knocked on the door. A white man with a US ARMY shirt answered. He was missing an arm. Mickey introduced himself as a Clinton canvasser, and told the man he had supported Sanders, too, during the primary. Thats great, the man said, and closed the door.

The people we met that day were straight out of central casting, if you were making a movie about the disaffected white working class, Mickey said. Between 55 and 65, without college degrees. You could see that Lena Dunham and Katy Perry were not going to do anything to form a bridge to these people. If I hadnt read any polls, and I was basing it just on the people I met, I would have thought, boy, Clintons going to get wiped out.

It was different in 2008. Knowing that Michigan was securely in Obamas column and Ohio was on the bubble, Rob and Jenny went to Toledo to knock on doors in trailer parks and housing projects. Foreclosure signs were common. When they introduced themselves as canvassers for Obama, the residents, all of them white, were welcoming and chatty. The interactions were long, Mickey said. The people were worried and they wanted to talk. Ohios 18 electoral votes went to Obama in 2008 and 2012.

This campaign wore a lot of people down, Mickey said. The state was bombarded by pro-Clinton ads, but she failed to offer any sustained and coherent economic message. She said, Im not crazy and Im not a sexist racist pig, but for working class whites thats not enough. I would say that of the people who slammed their doors on me, most of them didnt vote for either candidate.

A Hillary Clinton supporter applauds her televised concession speech. Photograph: Steven Senne/AP

In fact, an unprecedented number of Michigan voters cast ballots without choosing either Clinton or Trump. This kind of voting happens every election where voters make their preferences known down-ballot but dont mark anyone for president but never in such numbers. In 2012, there were 50,000 Michigan voters who declined to choose any presidential candidate. In 2016, there were 110,000.

Clinton lost Michigan by 13,107 votes.

The week after the election, the business of the United States went on. Schools and banks were open. The stock market plummeted and rose to a new high. Commuters commuted, and I was headed from Detroit to Kentucky. All of this was travel planned months before, and none of it had anything to do with the election, but it felt like I was making my way, intentionally, into the heart of Trump country.

At Detroit airport it was impossible not to feel the tragedy of Tuesday as having realigned our relationships with each other. Because the voting had split so dramatically along racial lines, how could an African-American or Latino pass a white person on the street, or at baggage claim, and not wonder, Which side are you on?

The emergence of safety pins to symbolise support for Clinton (and equality and inclusion) was inevitable it fulfilled a need, particularly on the part of white Americans, to signal where they stand. Otherwise all iconography is subject to misinterpretation. At the airport, I found an older white man staring at me. His eyes narrowed to slits. I was baffled until I realised he was looking at my baseball hat, which bore the logo and name of a Costa Rican beer called Imperial. Was this man a Clinton supporter who suspected me of being a white nationalist? Was the word Imperial sending a Ku Klux Klan/Third Reich signal to him?

Anyway, I was in the wrong terminal. I was in danger of missing a flight to Louisville, so I left and poked my head into a Hertz bus and asked the driver if he would be stopping near Delta anytime soon. He paused for a moment.

Yeah, Ill take you, he said.

His name was Carl. He was a lanky African-American man in his 60s, and we rode alone, just me and him in this enormous bus, for a time. He asked how I was doing. I told him I was terrible. I was feeling terrible, but I also wanted him to know which side I was on. He laughed.

A traveller in Detroit airport. Photograph: Jim Young/REUTERS

Yeah, I was surprised on Tuesday, too, he said. But I almost feel sorry for Trump. I dont think he thought hed actually win. You see him sitting next to Obama at the Oval Office? He looked like a child.

In Louisville, three days after the election, I sat with 32 students at Fern Creek high school. This was supposed to be a regular classroom visit by someone passing through, but the atmosphere was different now. The students at Fern Creek are from 28 countries. They speak 41 languages. There are refugees from Syria, South Sudan and the Democratic Republic of Congo. We sat in an oval and ate samosas. Nepalese samosas, I was told. Three of the students in the class were from Nepal, and had a particular recipe. The food was extraordinary.

I told these students, three girls still learning English, that Id always wanted to go to Nepal, and asked them to write down some places theyd recommend. They wrote Jhapa, Damak (Refugee camp). They were from Bhutan and had grown up in a UNHCR camp in eastern Nepal. A young man to my left had come from Iraq two years earlier.

Their teachers, Joseph Franzen and Brent Peters, guided the conversation through topics of creativity, social justice and empathy. The students were without exception thoughtful, attentive and respectful of each others opinions. Every time a student finished a statement, the rest of the class snapped, Beat-style, in appreciation. We didnt talk politics. For the time being, the students had had enough of politics. The day after the election, theyd had a charged discussion about the results, and, still feeling raw, they had written about the discussion the next day.

The thing I didnt say yesterday was that Muslims scare me. The thing with Isis is out of control and I dont trust them at all and I dont get why Mexicans cant take the test to become legal? Are they lazy?

The election didnt really bother me even with the outcome, I didnt support Trump. The main reason I cared about Clinton winning was cause I didnt want my family to be affected. My mom is gay and married to a woman.

As a Muslim female in high school its hard to deal with this and let it sink in. But I know Trump doesnt have full power of his actions. So I feel like even if hes president, everything will be the same.

I was downright disappointed in the country. Because Trump won, racism, sexism, misogyny and xenophobia won. It goes to show what our country values now. Either this is what we value, or this is what the majority is OK with.

I feel like everything said yesterday doesnt even matter anymore. We as American citizens cant change whats been decided. Not everybody gets what they want. Thats what life is. Trump will be our new president and we cant change that. WE need to make America great again, NOT Trump. Thats our job as people.

I think Trump and Hillary are both crazy and Im kind of eager to see how trump runs this b—h.

And so we see how differently we express ourselves on paper. The students, sitting in their oval with the smell of Nepalese samosas filling the room, were unfailingly kind to each other. But on paper, other selves were unleashed. Despite the many international students, the schools population is mostly American-born, 48% white and 38% black, and it was easy to see how Trump could bring dormant grievances to the fore, could give licence to reactionary theories and kneejerk assumptions. The students had witnessed eight years of exquisite presidential self-control and dignity, and now there would be a 70-year-old man in the White House whose feelings were easily hurt, who called people names, and who tweeted his complaints at all hours, with rampant misspellings and exclamation marks. Our only hope will be that the 100 million or so young people in American schools behave better than the president. A president who has not read a book since he was last required to. Think of it.

After the class, a tall African-American student named Devin approached me. Hed introduced himself before the class, and had asked some very sophisticated questions about using imagery to convey meaning in his poetry. He was a wide receiver on the schools football team, he said, but he was also a writer. He handed me a loose-leaf piece of paper, and on it was a prose-poem he wanted me to look at.

We sat on top of my house, laying back, looking at the stars, the stars shining, waving back at us. They told us hello. Time froze. I turned my head to look at you. Still fixated on the stars, you paid me no mind. I studied you. This was the true face of beauty. Your royal blue eyes, the brown polka dots on your face. Your smile making the moon envious because it could not compare in light. I reached out to grab your hand. You turned your eyes to look at me. Our hands intersected and we both smiled. I told you you were were beautiful.

Below the piece, Devin wrote, in red ink, Do I have something here? Should I continue?

Anti-Trump Protesters march through Los Angeles on 12 November. Photograph: UPI / Barcroft Images

That night in Louisville there was another benefit event, this one for an organisation called Teach Kentucky, which recruits high-achieving college graduates to come to the state to teach in the public schools. Joe Franzen and Brent Peters are among Teach Kentuckys recruits, and if they are any indication of the quality of humans the organisation is attracting, the programme is a runaway success.

At the event, Franzen and Peters spoke about their craft, and about making sure their students felt they had a place at the table. There was much talk about their classrooms as families, of meals shared by all, of mutual respect. It was very calm and heartening, but there was also a moment where the audience was encouraged to let out a primal scream (my idea, I admit it), and 200 people did that, screamed, exorcising our election-week demons. Later on, Jim James Louisville resident and leader of the rock band My Morning Jacket performed a medley of songs, from Leonard Cohen to All You Need Is Love and Blowin in the Wind. And then everyone got drunk.

There was good bourbon. It was called brown water by the locals, and after stomachs were full, we all vacillated between despair and measured hope. But the questions loomed over the night like the shadow of a Nazi zeppelin. Would he really try to build a wall? Would he really try to exclude all Muslims? Would he actually appoint a white nationalist as his chief of staff? And did 42% of American women really vote for a man who threatened to overturn Roe v Wade and who bragged about grabbing them by the pussy? Did the white working class really elect a man whose most famous catchphrase was Youre fired? Like a teenager with poor self-esteem, the American people had chosen the flashy and abusive boyfriend over the steady, boring one. Weve had enough decency for one decade, the electorate decided. Give us chaos.

It is not easy to get a ticket to Smithsonian National Museum of African American History and Culture. This is the newest museum on the National Mall in Washington, DC, and its design, by the Ghanaian-British architect David Adjaye, is so successful, at once immediately iconic and bold but also somehow blending into the low-slung surrounding architecture, that it has become the most talked-about building in the United States.

Admission is free, but there is a six-month wait for passes, and the passes are timed. If you get a pass, you must enter at the assigned hour or wait another six months. I had gotten such a timed pass, and it so happened that the pass was for the day after the election. That morning, I had the choice between staying in bed, forgoing my one chance at seeing the building in 2016, or rising on three hours sleep and keeping the appointment. Like millions of others, I did not want the day to begin. If I woke up, I would check the news, and if I checked the news, there would be confirmation of what I had remembered foggily from the night before that the people of America had elected a reality television host as their president. I closed my eyes, wanting sleep.

Then I remembered the Gazans.

Back in April, I had been in the Gaza Strip and had met a married couple, Mahmoud and Miriam, journalists and activists who badly wanted to leave Gaza. I had e-introduced them to an asylum lawyer in San Francisco, but from 7,000 miles away, she couldnt do much to help. The impossible thing was that they actually had a visa. A real visa issued by the American state department. All they had to do was get out of Gaza. But permissions were needed from the Israelis or Egyptians, and they were having no luck with either. Finally, one day in October, an email arrived. Mahmoud and Miriam were in Brooklyn. Theyd bribed an Egyptian guard at the Rafah gate and had made their way on a 14hour journey through Sinai.

National Museum of African American History and Culture. Photograph: Michael Barnes/Smithsonian Insitution

So on a lark I told them to meet me in DC. Frederick Douglass had said, after all, that every American should visit the nations capital at least once. And given they would soon be Americans, wouldnt it be good to do that duty right away, and do it the day after the first woman had been elected president? (We had made the plans a week before.)

So they had planned to meet me at this museum celebrating African-American history in the shadow of the obelisk dedicated to George Washington, great man and also slaveowner. The morning was clear and cool. A small line had formed outside the museum before the doors were to open. I looked around, and didnt see them. Then I did.

They were aglow. Theyd spent their lives in an open-air prison of 141 square miles, and now they were here. They could move about freely, could decide one day to go to the capital of the United States and be there a few hours later. No checkpoints, no bribes, no Hamas secret police. Id seen Miriam suffer in Gaza because she refused to wear the hijab and favoured western clothes. In Gaza City, she was yelled at, cursed. I hope your parents are proud! people yelled to her. Now she was herself, uncovered, dressing as she chose. H

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