#also the workboots i think

[wigglybug]

having gender envy for all the employees at bunnings regardless of what they look like leads me to believe the gender i want is stored in the Apron

[dallasgallant]

I like dissecting every little thing I can so let’s talk about shoes for a moment and how it’s more relevant than you think. Pony mentions it first when he talks about how they dress and it is actually true to hoods… shoes are either sneakers or boots. Durable, working shoes that tend to last. This is another aspect that makes them stand out that’s less thought about, as most people back then would wear nicer more dressy shoes in the day to day.

Now for shoes themselves, most of the time it’s:

Pony and Johnny- Converse

Darry- Workboots

Soda and Steve- Dress shoes(?)

Two-bit and Dally- Cowboy/biker boots

What stood out to me immediately after I noticed it for the first time was how Soda (sometimes Steve) wears a nicer pair of shoes but still a durable pair. Probably apart of his uniform (I imagine there’s certain nonslick ones like working in a kitchen for working in a garage/gas station) that he just wears around. He doesn’t like shoes so it makes sense he’d have few pairs to begin with.

Darry in the work boots also makes me want to cry but it makes sense as he’s at work most of the time, however for the rumble itself I think he had converse

Then there’s two-bit and Dally with boots, both are a bit tougher and guarded if you want to get down to it. I also think it’s just plain aesthetic, but like Steve Two-bit also swaps out with converse on occasion where dally never does.

Once again I’ll scream this forever- Soda (who the first thing he does when he comes home is take off his shoes) running out with everyone to get Dally in his bear feet. *hits wall*

[candycryptids]

Day 2 of Glamtober- Autumn

The perfect outfit for decorating the yard for the season! …. Did anyone feel a chill just now…? Sebastian- Skull Eyepatch (Dragoon Blue) Thavnairian Wool Autumn Shirt (Pastel Blue, Iris Purple) False Nails (gloom purple) Gleaner's Breeches Fieldfiends Costume Workboots Keathan- Varsity Flatcap (slate grey) Artful Afflatus Workshirt (Dark red) Artful Afflatus Halfgloves Artful Afflatus Hose (charcoal Grey) Artful Afflatus Workboots (Keathan belongs to @dustedbooksandreadingnooks )

Shader used is [Neneko Fluffy] also featuring Autumn Leaf Shower [XMA] Autumn Gleaner [TGD] and Pumpkin Props [XMA]

[Full Glamtober Prompt List] Bonus closeups + a crumb of lore under the cut-

Sebastian AKA Sasha AKA Krystdraga is a warrior of light who never was. Called to the source by Hydaelyn in the same way Ishi’li was, he picked up the role of Champion for Hydaelyn with more trepidation- so he’s very fortunate that other brave souls picked up the mantle so strongly, and with competence. Now he pursues gardening and botany with a green thumb, and seeks a way back to his own home.

The man adopts names like a terrible habit, being born Sasha and adopting the name Sebastian because it sounded more Sea-Worthy, and then on his arrival to Eitherys he picked up a Roegadyn name; Krystdraga, or Crystal Bearer. The Keathan of this world and the Keathan of his home share shocking similarities, yet in some ways they are so very different. He hopes to bring home lots of new stories to his Goddess uvu

Oh also- the pile of leaves is Keathan’s Slime puddle named Neru, and all the autumn leaves have gotten stuck to it’s little body and now it looks like an Autumnal greener cleaner 🥰

Ok bye mwah!

Oh wait- this is outside of my own house in game, in Aether-Siren Lavender Beds Ward 11 plot I think like, 26 or somethin.

[gallonofgoldfish]

Flowers and Fireworks

Returning to business as usual on the ranch is hardly monotonous with Abby around. New faces and old trails make for good company, even if it means getting sidetracked.

Pairing: cowpoke!abby x reader (sort of)

Content: established relationship, brief cowboy ellie, fluff, poor attempts at writing southern accents (i dont even think theyre in the south), reader isn't described, sort of a part two?, author needs a cowboy partner asap, i know less about horses than before, i don't think any warnings apply

A/N: the brainrot is brainrotting. i wanted to write cowboy ellie but then got distracted by both abby and the excitement of a motor vehicle. had a very specific song stuck in my head while writing this but now icant remember what it was (something colter wall??). anyway hopefully this is a fun read even tho its not too eventful (and also was not proofread lolz). planning to have more ellie in the next part if it ever gets written bc we're going to the CLERBBBB

WC: 1508

You haven’t met her yet, but you’ve felt the tension in the air like something’s about to snap into place.

She’s the rookie. The new kid. The hotshot from some bigger, richer ranch further west with a reputation that stirs more talk than her name—whatever it might be. She’s the racer on the back of a chestnut mare in a denim jacket with rolled-up sleeves and workboots that must’ve lost their shine long before she came here.

And she’s lunging in the ring outside the stables, faded black hat crooked, casting a stubborn shadow over the leafy tattoo wrapped around her forearm. Choppy brown hair brushes her shoulders and burns a color like coffee in the dying sunlight. 

Not that you care. You’ve got places to be, and she’ll fall in with the rest of the wranglers eventually.

Gravel crunches some ways down the road behind you, but Abby doesn’t kill the ATV’s engine in time to sneak up on you completely. She comes coasting down the dusty path, toothpick hanging from the corner of her mouth as she grins sideways at you and rolls to a stop. 

“You talk to ‘er yet?” she asks, and the sun flashes over the lenses of her aviators when she tilts her hat out of the way. 

“Not yet. You?”

Abby shakes her head. “Heard she ain’t done too much talkin’ to anyone yet.”

“Uh-huh.” You plant your hands on your hips and nod. “What else’d you hear?”

“Well, what’d you hear?”

“I asked you first.”

She bites down on her bottom lip, jerking her head at you. “Get over here and I’ll tell you.”

“You’re an ass,” you tease, but hop up onto the quad’s grate so your back leans against hers. 

“What, I get one record and you think we’re some big-timers?” Abby scoffs, nudging you with her shoulder. Her braid shifts in the humid breeze. “We got work to do.”

“Yeah, yeah,” is all you mumble as the ATV purrs back to life and jolts towards the barns in the distance. “Tell me what you heard.”

“Not much,” admits Abby. “I mean, not much you don’t already know. She’s got just about the same story as the rest of us. Some ribbons under her belt.”

Dust kicks up from the tires, funneling right past the mudflaps to gather on your jeans. “She got a name?”

“Relax. I’m gettin’ there.” Abby leans to the side to shoot you a skeptical, if halfhearted, glance. “What’re you tryin’ to get under her belt, too?”

“Abby.”

She laughs, then turns her focus back to the road. “Ellie,” she finally says. “Ellie Williams.”

“Alright.” The smell of fuel mingles with the freshness of the tallgrass scrolling by on either side, either one a welcome break from the tinge of manure drifting in from the neighboring fields. 

“Just alright?”

“Well, what the hell else am I supposed to say?” you ask. “I don’t know the girl.”

“I got a good idea.” The engine cuts again. The two of you come to a stop in the shadows just outside one of the stables, before the open sliding doors that stare right out over the mountains. Abby twists to look at you head-on. “How ‘bout you just tell me when we’re good to go?”

----------

“Y’know—” Your nose crinkles as you squint against the sun, shifting in the saddle with every step the horse beneath you takes. “I thought Manny was helpin’ you with this run.”

It’s muscle memory—tacking, adjusting, swinging up into the seat. Practiced. Routine. But it never gets old. Not the cool tones of the mountains shattering the skyline on the far side of the valley, or the steady gait of the horses as they fall into step beside one another. And definitely not Abby.

“He was,” she confirms. One hand holds the reins while the other settles her sunglasses on the brim of her hat. “‘Til he got busy.”

“With?”

The corners of her eyes crinkle with a smile. “The usual.”

“Sure.” You raise a brow. “And who’s the usual this week?”

“Beats me,” says Abby with a shrug. “Long as it ain’t you, it ain’t my problem.”

“Speak for yourself. The last usual kept leavin’ him notes.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. In the wrong fuckin’ bunk.”

Another grin creeps across her lips as she looks back. Gold falls over her freckled face, flooding the scar on her cheek with light. 

“A little light readin’ never hurt nobody,” she teases. 

“You think?” You tilt your head, unable to avoid the same expression writing itself into your features. “Then next time—”

She’s drawing away, picking up pace.

“Hey, now,” you call, but she doesn’t seem to hear. You nudge your horse’s side to urge them on. Still, though, Abby’s got a good lead. She passes under the low-hanging branches of the trees bordering the path, through a set of rusted iron gates. 

Then, she flicks the reins and takes off. 

“Abby!” you shout, and with no choice left but to do the same, chase after her. 

A cloud of dust stirs up behind her, but you ride right through it, and soon, the trail falls away. 

“I thought you said you got work to do!” 

She laughs, easing up and straightening to drop back and match your pace when you slow. Tallgrass rises on either side of the makeshift path—trampled dirt and dust and the curled-up bodies of flowers unlucky enough to fall into the path of passing hooves. 

“We do,” she says. “That don’t mean we can’t take our time.”

“It’ll be dark soon, yeah?”

“Not that much time.” Abby rolls her eyes and smiles. “We’re just takin’ the scenic route.”

“You know where we’re goin’?” you check.

“Just c’mon.” Turning back to the trail ahead, she nudges her horse to a quicker gait. The unbuttoned front of her flannel flutters around her, giving way to the thin white tank top underneath. 

The ground slopes down, further into the field, as the sun fades over the jagged peaks. Through the yellowed straw and the waves of rippling green, pops of color appear where bright flowers have pushed through the soil and bloomed.

“You ever been this way before?” asks Abby.

You shake your head. “Not that I remember.”

The field is glowing, burning under dusk’s light. She’s glowing with it.

“Well, then.” She shoots you a wink. “You’re in for a treat.”

Just like that, she’s off again. 

The rough path winds down the ridges in the hill, between weeping trees with lazy, swaying branches that force you to duck. Over wooden planks laid out across the marshier parts of the lower pastures and a bridge where a dried-up river leaves a gash in the ground. Back up another slope, another patchy flower field, another grove. 

Until Abby stops to look back at you.

The Ranch sprawls over the acres of land before the two of you, windows lit in the bunkhouse and the barns and lanterns burning alongside the settled paths. The dark shapes of other hands wander like ants across the grass, while the mingling shadows of cattle fill the squares of plains just below. 

“Wait,” Abby urges. The horses paw boredly at the dirt, but, like you, remain in place as the warm summer breeze snakes around you. “Heard about this from a friend last time I was in town.”

You shoot her a curious glance.

“Don’t look at me.” She waves you away, grinning, and points towards the horizon instead. “Over there.”

The first stars are peeking through the bluish parts of the sky, just where it meets the hills. There’s a flash. A burst of red sparks. 

“Fireworks?” Even from afar, their light unfurls over your face. 

“Sure are.” Abby falls silent as the bang from the explosion crashes, muted, through the valley. “They had some leftovers from the fourth.” She sighs, then asks: “Some view, ain’t it?”

Another smattering of colorful bursts erupts over the hills. Another chorus of pops thunder over the grass. The sky changes from one color to the next, smoke gathering in thin gray wisps along the skyline, before you look away.

The lights dance in the lenses of Abby’s aviators where they’re still sitting on her hat, but don’t quite reach her eyes. She hasn’t been watching the fireworks at all; she’s been looking at you instead.

“Yeah,” you murmur, leaning over to kiss her. “Some view,” you say against her lips.

“Anyway—” Clearing her throat, she straightens, then jerks her chin towards the cattle in the field below. “Race you down there.”

“Hey—”

But she’s already gone. Racing back down the hillside, still bathed in the far-off lights.

“You’re gonna owe me a drink!” she calls, though she’s already dropped out of view.

After a last glimpse at the fireworks blooming over the ranch, you pick up the reins again and turn to follow.

The flowers and the fireworks blur, blooming and bursting against the shaded countryside. Lining the hills and lighting the sky and leading you.

Leading you right back to her.

[voylitscope]

Stucky Recs: Brooklyn Stories for Brooklyn Boys

It's Brooklyn story time.

Obviously, a lot of Stucky fics are technically Brooklyn stories. Theoretically, all pre-canon fics are Brooklyn stories.

But. I have weirdly specific rules about it for the purposes of this rec list. To be a Brooklyn story, Brooklyn itself has to be part of/very relevant to the story somehow. Brooklyn can't just be the setting/location. So, as an example, a fic Steve and Bucky spend the entirety of inside their pre-war apartment is a story that takes place in Brooklyn, but it is not a Brooklyn story.

These twelve fics are Brooklyn stories.

Note: As part of my personal campaign to combat the persistent idea that every great fic in this fandom was written in 2015, I'm now marking recs of fics written post-2016 and recs of fics written post-Endgame.

Canon Brooklyn Boys

🚉 Nice Work If You Can Get It |  reserve | Mature | 12,900 words|

Hi, have you read this delight of a pre-war fic featuring Steve and Bucky befriending showgirls? Because if you haven't, you absolutely should. I always enjoy a pre-war fic that leans heavily into Steve's art as a plot point, and a Steve who hangs out backstage at a theater and gets paid to draw posters/fliers? I love it. We've also got a Bucky who spends a couple thousand words trying to understand why Steve spending so much time with very pretty showgirls and drawing them bothers him so much, and then another several thousand words actively pining (while working at a theater!) after he figures it out.

Quote:

Bucky resists the urge to drop his head into his hands and mope. Instead, he gathers himself up, and splashes cold water over his face at the kitchen sink. He pulls the dingy quilt off their sofa, grabs his Luckies, a book, and the mug, and takes himself out onto the fire escape.

Outside, he curls up with his back against this crumbling brick, and his workboots against the iron railing. He tucks the blanket around himself to keep the chill at bay, lights up a cigarette and wills away lingering arousal that won't quit. The cold air feels good on his hot face, and the coffee mug feels good in his cold hands. The cigarette smoke tugs the chilly air into his lungs with each drag, and he wishes he could burn his feelings away.

Williamsburg and the Domino plant feel very distant even though he’s still sore about the whole thing. He’s sore about Steve and he’s sore about Louise, and he’s extra sore about wanting Steve all to himself for reasons that go well beyond friendship. He's sore all around, right down to his heart.

🚉Ill With Want |  thedoubteriswise | Mature | 26,99 words | *Post-2016 Rec*

This is a pre-war gem, and it's one of my very favorites. It's sweet, aching, and laced with humor, and the Bucky voice, the Bucky and Steve dynamic/relationship, and the overall characterization are just beautifully done. Honestly, I've read this fic a few times, and I think I love it a little more every time I do. Featuring a Steve who both makes and teaches art, a Bucky who tries and fails miserably at not being desperately in love with Steve, a late 1930s Brooklyn gay bar Bucky visits with wide eyes, parties and classrooms filled with Brooklyn artists, a very earnest conversation over library books about Watson and Holmes' possible feelings for each other, and Steve getting paid to draw porn.

Quote:

Bucky’s stupid with how much he wants him, too crazy over his long eyelashes and narrow hips to read anything clearly. Is Steve thinking about kissing Bucky too, or does Bucky just wish he was?

He pictures confessing, but all he can imagine is Steve rejecting him.

The thing is, he knows how kind he’d be. He’d tell Bucky how much he cares about him, how flattered he is that of all the guys Bucky’s fucked up heart could want, it landed on him. He’d say how much he wishes he could give Bucky what he wants, and he’d mean it, because Steve loves making him happy. For all his piss and vinegar, Steve’s the gentlest guy on earth when he’s got someone’s heart in his hands. Bucky should know; that’s where his has been for as long as he can remember.

Bucky would nod and try to brush it off, act like it’s nothing but a crush that’ll go away with time. He would have a definitive ‘no,’ and maybe he could move on, but it would be like having his heart cut out with nail scissors - slow, careful, and excruciating beyond belief.

🚉Painted in Indigo | nekare | Mature | 11,031 words

Another charming pre-war delight. I really enjoy the way Steve's thought process is written here, and I love the dynamic between Steve and Bucky. This fic features a lot of Steve, who knows how he feels about Bucky, trying to puzzle out and rationalize Bucky's actions in a way that makes them completely platonic. Because obviously, they must be, right? Also featuring a revelation on a sunny birthday afternoon in Prospect Park.

Quote:

He’s rougher with the bruise high on Steve’s cheek, clearly still mad. When he reaches his split lip though, his touch gentles, dabbing at it until all the blood is gone, but instead of moving his hand it stays there, thumb moving until it’s resting against his mouth, so softly Steve can barely feel it. When he looks up, Bucky is staring transfixed at his fingertips on Steve, his own lower lip between his teeth. He looks a bit dazed, and the full weight of his attention makes Steve’s heart quicken.

He smells good, slightly sweaty and a bit sweet from the peach canning factory he works in. Steve will never breathe a word of it, but he’s absurdly fond of these moments, with Bucky so close in between his legs, his hands soft on Steve’s hair as he moves his head. Sometimes he forgets himself, probably muscle memory from being with some girl, and he rubs little circles on Steve’s neck, and Steve will invariably end up squirming with want.

“What,” he finally says when the moment stretches for too long.

🚉Take Your Time Coming Home | odetteandodile | Mature | 13,047 words | *Post-2016 Rec*

Technically, this is a pre-war AU and not quite canon. Or, maybe it's more like canon divergence preventing them from becoming inseparable as kids, but leaving them both in Brooklyn and hyper-aware of each other, and having them still end up obsessed with each other, living together (and inseparable) by their early twenties. Can canon diverge two decades before canon actually starts? Is that a thing? I have no idea, but I absolutely love this fic. Featuring many discussions of 1930s Brooklyn gay bars, falling in love through letter writing, a very uncooperative bed, a highly memorable birthday celebration, ID porn, and the unfairly charming and adorable mental image of kid Bucky being amazed by scrappy and angry kid Steve, even when they didn't know each other.

Quote:

“Oh Steve,” says a soft, deep voice above him—decidedly not his mother’s, “you idiot I told you to stay dry…”

It takes a few more moments for Steve to process that there is a cool, soothing hand on his forehead. But it’s not his mother’s smooth, slim one, but large and calloused…

The dream finally fades entirely, his still feverish brain slow to find the line between it and reality. But once it does, he forces himself to open his burning, bleary eyes. And he immediately wonders if he actually has awoken, or if the scene around him is just a new product of his sick-addled hallucinations.

There’s daylight in the apartment, and he’s shivering under only one of the four blankets he’d initially fallen asleep beneath.

And Bucky Barnes is sitting beside him on the edge of the bed, a hand on Steve’s forehead and a look of deep concern across his face.

🚉Three White Horses | magdaliny | Mature | 16,601 words | *Post-2016 Rec*

Moving from Pre-war to this canon divergence post-TWS fic. I should note that this one isn't a light read. However, that's primarily because this fic allows Steve to be really, really not okay. This fic sits with Steve in low and depressed places and stays with him as he hits rock bottom. It doesn't turn away. It's brutal, but gorgeous too. It's heavy, but it gives Steve, and Steve's grief, the respect they deserve. And, eventually, it pulls him out. Steve's devastation has him running home in this fic, and Brooklyn serves as both a hideout and a painful reminder of the things he can never get back. The depiction of Steve and Bucky's relationship, both in Steve's memories of the past, and in the place this fic eventually ends up, is stunningly beautiful. (There's a happy ending here.)

Quote:

Steve, still too sweaty-palmed to tear anything up without sticking to it, had set a fire on a broken plate with one of his asthma cigarettes and was feeding it strips of paper. He'd glanced over to find Bucky looking more miserable than any human being has a right to look, talking as evenly as he was, and Steve had almost put one knee in the fire trying to reach him.

“I don't wanna lose you too,” Bucky'd said, high and off-balance, when Steve grabbed his arm.

Steve had apologized and hugged him hard enough to hurt them both, and Bucky'd ended up taking him to bed. They hadn't slept. In the morning Steve had felt bee-stung, battered: but thawed out. In the Arctic there's whole months where the sun doesn't come up over the horizon, and in real life that first day is probably just a momentary sliver of light, but Steve didn't know that at the time, and he'd imagined a luminous dawn. Moments later he hadn't needed to imagine it any longer, because there wasn't anything in the world more luminous than Bucky's face, barely awake and entirely uncensored: his eyes when he looked at Steve.

But Bucky isn't here.

(Note: I debated properly putting This, You Protect in this post. But A) it straddles the line of qualifying as Brooklyn fic for the purposes of the list, and B) it's such a beloved fandom classic that I feel pretty sure the large majority of people have already read it. That said, if you haven't read it, you very much should.)

Brooklyn Shrunkyclunkys

🚇Beyond the Yellow Book Road | crinklefries | teen | 30,057 words | **Post-Endgame Rec**

This is a very, very pretty fic, and Steve and Bucky are very, very cute about each other in it. It's a heartwarming read and one of those specific sorts of Shrunkyclunks where meeting Bucky brightens a recently brought-out-the-ice-Steve's whole life in all of about an hour — where it changes Steve's whole life within a few weeks. It's one of those fics where Steve is still trying to make sense of the 21st century, and it's meeting Bucky that helps more than anything else. Featuring books, flirting, slow burn, snow, and some slow dancing.

Quote:

Slowly, Steve stops needing an excuse to come back. He treads the quickly familiar streets up through Williamsburg as often as he can—during the week, on the weekend, before missions, and definitely after missions.

He’s passing by after grabbing brunch with Natasha and Clint one day—apparently the future is obsessed with mashing breakfast and lunch foods together and drowning both with a side of mimosas—and sees a new display of books in the window. He goes in.

“Buck?” Steve calls, before even looking for him. “What’s the Golden State killer and why is it the ‘Hot Staff Pick of the month’? Also is the pick hot or is the staff hot? It’s very unclear.”

“Both, Steve,” Bucky says, coming down the stairs at the back of the store. He has a rubber band in his mouth and he’s putting his hair up. Tendrils of curls hang loose, framing his face, and Steve feels an almost indiscernible lurch in his chest. “The correct answer is both.”

🚇Not In The Answer But The Question | aimmyarrowshigh @aimmyarrowshigh | Teen | 27,382 words | **Post-Endgame Rec**

Steve's difficult relationship with being both Steve Rogers and Captain America, and his ability to possibly reconcile those things while still letting any Steve show through is always one of my favorite things to see tackled in fic. This fic does it so gorgeously. This is a Steve who starts this fic so lost, but who is able to find bits of his past and of himself — who is then able to find a real direction, a purpose, for his future. There's so much warmth and hope in this fic, tied to an incredibly kind and gently encouraging Bucky and the relationship they slowly and satisfyingly build.

Quote:

Natasha climbs one of Steve’s legs like she’s a boa constrictor. “You seem happier.”

“I’m a happy guy,” Steve says, deadpan, as he tries to shake her off.

“You’re a terrible liar.” Natasha manages to get onto his back and starts to slam her elbows into the top of his head. “You’re a lot of things, Rogers, nice things, even, but you’re not a happy guy.”

Steve’s ears are ringing by the time he flips Natasha off his shoulders and onto the mat.

He kneels on her sternum.

“Maybe not,” he admits. “But nobody asked Captain America to be happy.”

🚇Love Thy Neighbor | hermionesmydawg | Mature | 7,842 words

A fic featuring a Bucky and Steve who annoy each other at first. It lasts less than a week. Nomad Steve is a Brooklyn vigilante. Bucky's a nurse whose new neighbor is a hot irritating vigilante who is making Bucky think there might have been truth to those Captain America rumors after all. Such a fun read. I also really appreciate that at one point in this fic, an injured Steve seeks out his new neighbor and is like, "I've seen you in scrubs are, you a doctor?" When Bucky says he's a nurse, Steve tells him that's better.

Quote:

He helps walk Steve the short distance to his apartment. The idiot didn't even lock the door, what the hell is wrong with this guy? "I'll check on you after work tomorrow. Try not to get shot or stabbed in the next twenty-four hours, okay? I'd hate to have to threaten you with a lamp in my underwear again."

"You threatening me with a lamp in your underwear was basically the highlight of my year, but I'll be on good behavior."

Bucky blinks. That's it. That's all.

"G'night Bucky." Then Steve's closing the door in Bucky's shocked face, because he's just not good at this. Snark he can do all day but that was genuine, maybe.

Modern Brooklyn AUs

🏬If This is as Far as We Go | BeauRadley | Mature | 124,186 words | **Post-Endgame Rec**

You know how sometimes a fic hits you a lot harder than you think it will? This fic is about a Steve and Bucky who were totally just friends with benefits. No feelings involved! So now things have ended and they're completely fine, of course. Which — 10/10 tropes I am always here for. Sign me up. This fic, though, is also about a Steve who has shut down more than he realizes, and who has built walls around himself made of his own guilt. (Wow, what a Steve thing to do!) This is about pain Steve isn't even letting himself acknowledge, but that's keeping him away from so many things — Bucky, Brooklyn itself, and his own happiness. it's a huge journey for Steve, who, honestly, starts this fic in a pretty terrible mental health place. It's incredibly well done, and the ending really got to me. There's also a fantastic, hard stuff handled really well, Bucky family subplot.

Quote:

But Bucky turned right, leading straight in that direction instead of left, the way Steve had come. It made sense, of course. Right took them into the heart of the neighborhood, to the cluster of coffee shops and diners, bars and bakeries, that made up the fabric of the place.

Bucky started walking, shoving his phone, keys and wallet into his pockets as he did so, but Steve stood for a moment, debating. He couldn’t pass up this chance with Bucky, the only one he might ever get, but passing his mom’s apartment?

Bucky looked over his shoulder. “You comin’ or what, Rogers?” he asked, a little impatiently.

Steve opened his mouth, closed it again. Tried to form words. He didn’t want to sound pathetic, refusing to walk past his childhood home like it still had some power over him, like he was weak. “I…” he began, and then understanding seemed to dawn on Bucky. His expression, before a little disgruntled, softened.

“Hey,” he said, and his tone was kind. “I forgot. First time back here since your mom, yeah?” Steve nodded, not trusting himself to speak in case he started to cry.

🏬6 Avenue Local |  mambo | teen | 10,630 words | *Post-2016 Rec*

Listen, it's a childhood-friends-Steve-and-Bucky surprise reunion on the subway. They also go to Coney Island! A fun as hell one-shot with plenty of feelings, really great banter, and a generous pinch of Bucky angst. Really delightful and really charming.

Quote:

Steve snorts. “Yeah, I’ve got a boiled chicken breast in my pocket right now,” he says. “Want some?”

“Depends — which pocket has it been in?”

“Front left,” Steve says.

“Then nah.” Bucky picks up his milkshake and starts sipping it through the straw.

“And why’s that?” Steve asks, curious about Bucky’s logic here.

Bucky puts his glass down and swallows. He gesticulates with his hand while he talks; the movements are achingly familiar to Steve. Even if Bucky’s appearance has changed, this hasn’t. Bucky had always been a storyteller with a dramatic flair. Everyone’s eyes would be on him when he started to speak. Only Bucky Barnes could make a conversation about pocket chicken and make it interesting. “If it’s in the front pocket, it’d be lukewarm. Back pocket? It’d be warm. Simple as that. I don’t want to eat lukewarm pocket chicken. Warm pocket chicken? I could be convinced under the correct circumstances.”

🏬A long way from the playground | tesselated | Explicit | 27,366 words

One of the things I adore about this fic is that Bucky's POV voice thinks about things like how, these days, he only sees Steve, like, once a week, most weeks, and how he misses him, okay? And Steve and Bucky have conversations about how sometimes, they hang out but there are other people there too, and ugh, they miss being roommates. Which is exactly as weirdly codependent and obsessed with each other as I like my Steve and Buckys who grew up together to be. There is also a lot of Becca Barnes in this fic, and I always very much appreciate that. Plus: It's fake dating! For Becca's wedding!

Quote:

“Hi, Steve. Please eat something, you’re making me weak just looking at you.” Bucky’s mom says, but she grins at Steve while she says it.

Steve grins sheepishly and picks up a plate from the kitchen counter, piling brisket onto it dutifully.

Bucky’s family love having Steve at family functions as much as he enjoys being there, and a main reason is that he is a scrawny empty vessel for them to place their ill-founded worries about their own children starving into. Steve, bless him, has never fought it, always nodding seriously as if he agrees that if he doesn’t eat another serving he may actually die.

🏬Last Train Home (series) | sparkagrace @sparkagrace | Teen | 20,470 words | **Post-Endgame Rec** A series and not a single fic, but Very Brooklyn and Very recommend. This is a modern Steve and Bucky who fall for each fast and proceed to be the sweetest and most romantic about it. I love this series and the way it shows this relationship in moments, both tiny everyday ones and massive big deal ones as these two fall even harder and join their lives together. It's a complete delight and never fails to be incredibly heartwarming.

Quote:

Since that night in the bar, everything with Bucky has felt so surreally right. He knows his friends accuse him of falling fast occasionally, but this time there’s something stirring in his gut that’s telling him that he was meant to be at that bar that January night. He was meant to witness Bucky on a terrible date with someone who only sounded good on paper and checked all the right boxes, but wasn’t the right person at all. His mom likes astrology and believes in things happening for a reason, something that Steve used to struggle with believing in too, but he can’t deny that maybe there is something up there that set this collision course for them to meet.

Steve has fallen fast and he’s fallen hard, and reasonably it could all end tomorrow, but Steve also knows that this is forever.

(Somewhere, deep down, he thinks that Bucky might feel the same way too.)

Bonus:

👕Thursday Nights with Bucky Barnes | Ellessey | Teen | 4,662 |**Post-Endgame Rec**

Truly, we're so very fortunate to have fics in every trope/au type imaginable in Stucky fandom — Including ones that don't really show up in other fandoms. I don't mean the obvious ones like Shrunkyclunks/Shrinkyclinks here. No, I mean, I have personally read at least four fics about Steve and Bucky meeting and then hooking up at a laundromat. And, while this is not, you know, never a thing in other fandoms, I feel like that is a disproportionate and oddly large amount to have accidentally run into. I have to think this is, at least in large part, connected to the Brooklyn thing. Which is why, even though it doesn't technically fit my rules, I'm sticking a very fun example of a laundromat fic on this list, featuring a grouchy skinny Steve and charming as hell Bucky, who is hopelessly charmed by Steve at first sight.

Quote:

"You're… how are you asking that?" Bucky says, sounding genuinely baffled. "You're gorgeous, you teach little kids, save the planet, befriend curmudgeonly old men—" "Berate strangers for cleaning too much…"

Bucky grins and shrugs his big, perfect shoulders. Steve is fighting such a losing battle here. They're standing so close together now that he has to look up, which he hates, as a rule. But Bucky's pecs are at eye level, and then the stubble on his jaw, the little shadows below his broad cheekbones, and that lock of hair curling over his forehead are all happening above that, so… what the hell. Looking up isn't so terrible.

Up next: Cabin and small town recs.

Fic Rec Series

[virtualtrashcollector]

🌼 Kisses & Brownies

Joker x Female (Dark Knight Joker) 18+ only

Summary: As a young kinky British woman working as a mechanic in Gotham for the Joker, one night you see him looking rough after a fight. You decide to invite him into your office to patch him up.

Warnings: 18+ VERY EXPLICIT. This story features lots of dirty words and situations! Reader discretion is STRONGLY advised. No minors please. Enjoy!!

Word count: 7,198

Note #1: I will post each chapter separately as some are quite long. 6 chapters in total.

Note #2: This story takes place between 'Joker Comes for a Sleepover' and 'Meeting the Joker'.

Note #3: My OC has several body mods, including a split tongue, a pierced septum, and pierced naughty bits.

Chapter 1:

It was a cold and windy Thursday night in downtown Gotham as the three of you worked away in the garage. Richie and Michael were in the machine shop while you toiled away in your office. It was a smallish room tucked in the upper left hand corner of the shop. Thinking you heard your name, you approached the door and pushed it open slightly. Standing quietly in the doorway you listened in. A grin slowly spread across your face as you overheard the two men talking to one another.

"Daisy's way hotter than that other chick was." Michael said while tightening the bolts on a large tire.

"I'm not arguin' that with you, just saying she had a bigger rack that's all." Richie exclaimed as he rifled through a large metal toolbox.

"That she did, those tits were huge." Michael responded as he finished the tire he was working on.

"Haven't you two talked enough about tits for one day?" You inquired stepping out into the shop. Both men stopped what they were doing and turned to look at you. Richie smiled and replied,

"Don't think so. Maybe you would care to join in, ya know? Maybe a little show and tell?" His Italian accent was very strong and you had always found it very sexy. He had dark brown hair, brown eyes, and an incredibly sweet smile. Both men were wearing dirty shop coveralls and were stained head to toe with grease. You wore the same coveralls as they did, along with your regular steel toed beige colored workboots. The shop smelled like sweat, gasoline, and balls.

"I'm good thanks, maybe later. That is if you two get all of your repairs done." You teased making your way over to the counter for the blueprint you needed. Snatching it up, you started back to your office as they resumed their work.

"Now that's what I call incentive." Michael exclaimed while rolling another tire over to his station. You made eye contact with the buff heavily tattooed man, and held it for a moment. Damn he looked good tonight. You just might have a little fun with these two later.

"And someone please turn on the fan, it smells like sweat and ballsack in here." You said while waving your hand in front of your nose. As you approached your office the backdoor next to you opened, and in stepped J.

He seemed to notice you at the same time you noticed him. The other two men seen as well but quickly looked away once he glanced in their direction. He looked roughed up, almost as though he had just been in a nasty fight. His long green hair was a mess and his suit was dirtier than usual. Approaching him you inquired quietly,

"Everything alright sir?" He was slightly out of breath and was gripping a small black knife in his right hand. He was also hunched over a little more than usual.

"It is now." He replied closing the knife and putting it back inside his coat pocket.

"Just had to deal with a couple of...... disturbances." As he said this he stepped closer allowing you to get a proper look at him. Inspecting his jacket it didn't take long before you noticed the red stain underneath.

"You're bleeding." You said lifting the fabric to see a sizable crimson spot. J looked down.

"We'll...... what do ya know." He licked his lips and continued.

"Thought maybe one of those assholes got me, but I wasn't sure." You found yourself feeling genuine concern for your new boss. The thought of him being hurt very much made you want to care for him.

"I've got a first aid kit in my office, I'll get you fixed up good as new." You said gesturing towards the door. He grinned and quickly headed inside.

Luckily Richie and Michael hadn't noticed J slip into your office. Inside the steel room was a desk, a mini fridge, a coffeemaker, a few filing cabinets, and a couple of chairs. A large mural was stamped onto the metal wall behind your desk, and a ceiling fan spun perpetually above. There was also a metal shuttered window that opened up right into the shop, should you choose to have it open. You had placed a few plants around the room to make the place feel a little nicer. It was relatively dimly lit. The only lights were a floor lamp, a table lamp, and a candle.

"Didn't know you had an office." He remarked clicking his tongue. You shut the heavy door and locked it behind you. Approaching your desk, you removed your laptop and set it off to the side on the concrete floor.

"Have a seat." You encouraged him while gently patting the desk.

"Yes ma'am." He said hopping up on the dusty surface. Grabbing the nearby first aid kit you opened it up on the desk beside him. His legs were parted slightly allowing you to easily slip between them. His feet dangled freely in the air. J slid his tongue over his lip as you moved in close. You were now virtually eye to eye with one another.

"I like this....." He said reaching out and touching your large steel septum ring.

"Thank you sir." You responded softly with a grin. Carefully you removed his heavy purple suit coats. He watched closely as you peeled off layer after soiled layer. Now down to his dirty dress shirt, you untied his tie, slid off his suspenders, and unbuttoned his shirt.

The faint sound of an air compressor leaked through the thin walls of the otherwise quiet room. J was now shirtless allowing you to instantly spot the wound he had obtained earlier. Right at the base of his ribs on his left side, there was a painful looking gash most likely caused by the tip of a blade. Reaching for the gauze and disinfectant, you dabbed a little on the material and poised to press it onto his skin.

"This is going to hurt love." You warned him softly while placing your free hand on his thigh. He nodded his head slightly and took in a breath. Making contact with his soft tan flesh he barely even flinched. Thankfully the laceration didn't look deep enough to require stitches. After sufficiently cleaning the area you put on a fresh bandage, making sure to secure it good and tight. It took a few minutes to clean up some other minor cuts and scrapes on him as well.

"There we are." You said packing up the first aid supplies.

"Thanks doll." J said with a crooked smile. With the supplies away, you used your fingers to lightly touch a blackish bruise on his muscular bicep. There were at least a half a dozen more bruises you could see scattered about his arms and torso. He also had a number of scars in an assortment of sizes and shapes. Standing close to him, you could feel the heat coming off of his body. His dark eyes seemed to observe you hungrily. He smelled like sweat and dried blood.

He seemed to notice your left hand for the first time. You had lost your middle finger a few years ago.

"Never noticed this before." He said gently gripping your hand and observing your wound. He looked sympathetically at you with a questioning expression.

"Nothing too strange, I simply flipped the bird to the wrong person. Before I knew it my finger was on the floor. Learned my lesson that day." You answered him. He felt the nub where your middle finger should have been.

"Damn. This makes my injuries seem..........trivial." He exclaimed with a soft chuckle.

"Not trivial. Just not so severe." You told him with a small grin.

"Unfortunately I can't really do anything for these." You said tracing his various bruises with your fingertips.

"But there is one thing I can think of that might make you feel a little better....." As you said this you trailed off purposely. Your lips were nearly touching his as you felt his hands slip around your waist, pulling you closer still.

[splatsvilles-fashionista]

resending the ask- could you put together an outfit around either the snipewriter 5h or the eliter 4k?

Designing an outfit around a weapon actually proved a lot different from what I usually do with my outfit requests, so you're getting two outfits for each of them, because I went around putting them together in completely different ways.

(Retro Specs / Vintage Check Shirt / Tan Workboots) (Annaki Charms / Forge Octarian Jacket / Blue Sea slugs)

For these two, I built them around the colors of the main weapons, but also Chargers as a weapon class. Snipers, perhaps more than any other type of gun, have a lot of tropes associated with them. A sniper is commonly depicted as professional, but cold and calculating, both physically and metaphorically distant. And that's what I wanted to go for with these two.

But I wasn't satisfied with just that, so as said I did a second pass with a different approach:

(Full-Moon Glasses / Moby Knit / Dark-Roast Boaties) (Zekko Mesh / Annaki Flannel Hoodie / Punk Cherries)

Here, I instead designed the outfits around the weapons and their real-life inspirations, implying more of a story and character than the first set did. For the Snipewriter, that meant a writer, or perhaps a poet, a bit pretentious and definitively someone who thinks the pen is mightier than the sword. For the E-liter, which is based on a gas pump, I wanted a bit of a trucker look. A bit working-class, and also a bit of inspiration from the kind of rural folks who tinker with old cars in their garages.

Hope any of these strike your fancy, and sorry for the wait!

[pinene]

Ironically, the ppl who always told me that because I'm gay I have to act like X, dress like Y, and be into Z.. have always been other gay boys. The consortium of reactionary twitter bottoms does not approve of most types of masculine gender presentation unless they're ironic or for porn, and definitely does not approve of most types of feminine gender presentation unless carefully vacuum-sealed at the WOW factory. Sometimes it feels like the generations to inherit the community after the AIDS crisis have misinterpreted the ancient texts, and speak a dead language with bad grammar. There is this dutiful maintenance of an anxious gender-expression equilibrium wherein we're all supposed to try to be as masculine as possible, but visibly fail at it, creating a shame vacuum of skinny jeans and fleece-lined denim jackets.

This is the grain of truth at the heart of those "Masc gays-- it's okay if you don't and/or can't Slay :)" sentiments. Like, it reads pretty ridiculous to say "it's okay to not be feminine as a man <3", but let's also not pretend there's not weird gender policing in the community on part of insecure members. Casual feminine gender presentation is similarly rejected.

I'm personally at a point of exploring my own gender presentation, specifically the kinds of masculinity that both straight and gay people have told me I'm not allowed to emulate. I don't think it's radical for me to ~be a man who dresses like a man~, but there is a deep satisfaction in this tresspassing that I can't just write off. It's nice to be a cocksucker in ariat workboots and blue jeans and pearl snaps because it always makes the right people angry, especially straight men. And still I get anons from angry gay guys claiming I'm just trying to look straight, when the whole reason I dress this way is because I'm gay as fuck and like catching my butch silhouette in windows I pass by. It also attracts other men. Even straight men, who wanna know where I got my clothes. Be yourself.

[commsroom]

a few days ago i saw this post, thought about how similar it was to writing advice given by gabriel urbina, and had pretty immediate answers to all of those questions for eiffel. so i'm using this as an excuse to talk about eiffel.

• go-to drink order? (assuming café) i'm a big fan of his canon appreciation for triple white chocolate mochas with whipped cream, but i think it's 50/50 on whether that's a usual order for him or just a craving he had. it tells you enough about his preferences though. he would drink starbucks dessert coffee all the time if he could justify it, but he can't, so his most common order is actually just plain coffee that he pours an ungodly amount of creamer + sugar into. he drinks a lot of flavored coffee, but from, like. 7-eleven. (assuming restaurant) i feel in my heart that he's a dr pepper guy, but he's fine with coke.

• grooming routine? he doesn't have one. ... okay, it's like: 3 in 1 shampoo, conditioner, and body wash; stands under blistering hot water while half asleep and spacing out; shaves haphazardly and whatever he misses he just leaves like that. his hair takes forever to dry and he gives up partway through and ties it up instead.

• most expensive purchase/where does their disposable income go? his most expensive purchases have probably been necessities more than like, for fun, but he does have personal radio equipment and that can add up to a lot, so... if i had to guess. and his disposable income is like 75% takeout food 25% physical media.

• any scars or tattoos? a lot of minor scars from a lot of really stupid things, all over his hands in particular, but surprisingly few major ones. it's something that feeds into his guilt complex, that he walks away unscarred from things he feels he shouldn't. i think he's probably broken his nose before, though. he's got a low pain tolerance so he wouldn't subject himself to the process of being tattooed if he was of sound mind about it, but i also wouldn't be that surprised if he had an embarrassing one he only half-remembers getting. (once zach answered that question with "eiffel's got a tramp stamp that just says 'tramp stamp'" and that got exactly the mix of disgust and resignation as a reaction that you might imagine.)

• the last time they cried, and under what circumstances? depending on when this question is being asked, uh... yesterday? an hour ago? he's pretty regularly crying tears of frustration and general oh-god-why-me, but he doesn't really break down and cry very often. and despite the emotional openness he encourages in others, i don't think he's keen to cry in front of people. he broke down soon after getting back the hephaestus post-mayday, but only when he was alone in his quarters and everyone else was asleep.

• oldest, middle, youngest or only child? only child. there's no doubt in my mind.

• describe the shoes they’re wearing. on the hephaestus? mostly, he isn't. he doesn't really wear shoes on earth either, if he can help it. he'll check the mail in bare feet and get glass in his foot and he won't learn anything. he's got an almost inhuman ability to wear holes in his socks. he has three pairs of shoes total: sandals; sneakers he's had for a decade where one of the soles is falling off; and semi-practical workboots that are structurally fine but otherwise just disgusting. he sees nothing wrong with this.

• describe the place where they sleep. (on the hephaestus) maybe has a few things taped to the wall, maybe torn out of some of his magazines. canonically keeps one of his tool bags under his bed. (on earth) mattress on the floor in the corner of his room. he actually does have shelves for the stuff he values enough to not want to risk stepping on, but there's junk everywhere all of the time. he's never made his bed in his life.

• favorite/least favorite holiday? canon answer: least favorite holiday is easily christmas, at least one of his favorites is thanksgiving. i think he's also partial to a good 4th of july barbeque. he's obnoxiously american.

• what objects do they always carry around with them? (on the hephaestus) usually has one of his portable comms transmitters on him, but otherwise only whatever he needs at any given time. he used to always have a pack of cigarettes in his pocket, but minkowski confiscated so many of them he stopped taking them too far from his comms room stash. (on earth) some combination of: keys, wallet (contains, among other things: a picture of his daughter, his old blockbuster card, and a lot of unsorted receipts that are overflowing into his pocket), cheapest smart phone he could acquire (would still probably be using a flip phone if it hadn't become inconvenient), at least two pairs of ear buds that only work in one ear each, cigarettes, lighter, gum, gift shop swiss army knife he's surprisingly resourceful with, whatever other junk he has crammed in his pockets. every time he leaves the house, he forgets at least one of the things he actually needs.

[wjbs-bonkle-au]

Thinking about Human AU stuff; namely, clothes.

Basically, manufactured Toa (e.g Helryx or the Mata) have specially-designed outfits (although the Mata's have degraded by the time they've reached Mata Nui, so they wear outfits designed by their respective villages' Matoran with added armour built by the Toa themselves), whereas transformed Toa (e.g the Metru and Mahri) have more-impressive versions of whatever they were wearing when they changed from Matoran to Toa.

List of ideas for the main 3 Toa Teams below.

Mata

Tahu - Hauberk (pun not intended) under a red breastplate with the Ta-Koro emblem on it, along with chainmail trousers with metal plating, a pair of armoured boots, and a back-mounted sheath for his sword.

Gali - Chest-wrap made of dried seaweed and a pair of simple cloth shorts, worn underneath armour made from the blue shells of local crustaceans, the largest of which has the Ga-Koro symbol painted onto it.

Onua - Loose trousers tied at the waist and ankles, with angular vambraces made of black stone with the Onu Koro emblem carved into them.

Lewa - Tunic made of leaves with light armour-plating made of wood, with the Le-Koro emblem painted on the right shoulder.

Pohatu - Rough shorts with polished stone kneepads, the right one of which has the Po-Koro emblem carved into it; the Foot Extensions take the form of bulky boots, with the toe made of thick metal.

Kopaka - fur-trimmed armour with a large cloak that has the Ko-Koro emblem on the back, and a hip-slung sheath for his sword; also an articulated triple-lens eyepiece.

Their Nuva forms all have near-identical silver armour (albeit modified to fit their respective body-types), but with elements of their Mata outfits incorporated into the unarmoured parts. The Adaptive Armour is worn in place of their standard Nuva armour, and basically just looks like more "solid" versions of their '08 designs.

Metru

Vakama - Dark-red tabard with glowing yellow trim over an orange shirt, along with black trousers, dark-grey workboots and high-tech red gauntlets; originally the apron, shirt and gloves that he wore as a Mask-Maker.

Nokama - I don't actually have an idea for this; originally her Teacher uniform.

Whenua - Large, black cloak, with a suit of high-tech grey armour underneath with green trim; originally his Archivist robes and protective gear.

Matau - A sleek green-and-grey jumpsuit, with red glowing magnetic disks on the shoulders to store his Aero Slicers; originally his Test-Driver jumpsuit.

Onewa - A high-tech helmet, armoured vest and kneepads with glowing blue trim, over a dark-grey jumpsuit; originally the protective gear from his job as a Carver.

Nuju - Long, flowing white coat with a glowing cyan trim, worn with a black shirt, grey flared trousers, black dress-shoes and a glowing cyan eyepiece; originally his outfit from when he was a Scholar.

Mahri

Jaller - Essentially a heavily-armoured diving-suit, with a crab-shaped chestplate; originally his Ta-Metru Guard uniform.

Hahli - Somewhere between a Victorian-era Standard Diving Dress and a more modern diving-suit, with mechanical, collapsible "wings" on the back; originally her normal clothes.

Nuparu - A sleek-looking armoured wetsuit with a rebreather and goggles; originally the outfit he wore while building and testing his inventions.

Kongu - a bulky, futuristic diving-suit with a large headlamp on the back of the helmet; originally his pilot gear.

Hewkii - Pretty much just high-tech swimming-trunks with spiked kneepads, as well as a bulky gauntlet on his right arm, and a rebreather-mask; originally his sports gear.

Matoro - Basically the same as Nuju's, but more suitable for the ocean; originally a spare Scholar uniform.

Similar to the Toa Nuva, their Inika forms have very similar armour to each-other, but incorporating elements of the clothes they were wearing when they managed to leave Karzahni. After becoming the Mahri, their outfits turn into what they'd have looked like if their transformation had occurred under normal circumstances, similar to how the Metru's clothes work, albeit modified by Nuparu to become more viable underwater. Also, after moving from Mata Nui to Metru Nui, they replaced most of the clothes they wore on Mata Nui with aesthetically-similar ones that better matched the city's retrofuturistic/Solarpunk aesthetic.

[heavenpierceher]

oh we submitting requests for ask memes now? ....tailpipe lmao

thank you for doing this so i did not have to send myself an ask as three psilocyns in a trenchcoat. original here

1. What is the character’s go-to drink order?

he orders a) whatever “special” there is, if there’s a drink of the day he gets that, b) “you pick”/“something you think i’d like” (annoying but endearing), or c) the cybertronian equivalent of whatever’s the sweetest and fruitiest. he never gets the same thing twice, except when he does multiple times in a row because sometimes the familiarity is comforting. swerve knows he’s feeling down when he gets the same few orders in a row from him

2. What is their grooming routine?

initially he pays a lot of attention to looking cool and important therefore buffing the ever loving shit out of his frame while strategically leaving alone cool looking scratches. post-RiL he doesn’t have much of a reason to do that anymore so he’s just Normal but he also likes, like. i think he’d enjoy braiding holoform whirl’s hair for her

3. What was their most expensive purchase/where does their disposable income go?

he LOOOOOVES trinkets. LOVES them. he gets a souvenir for every planet they stop on. doesn’t collect anything in particular, just has an eye for kitschy little desk toys and stuff to put on the walls

4. Do they have any scars or tattoos?

no engravings (he’s skittish) but he could probably be very easily talked into getting one. obviously physical scars aren’t much of an entity in canon since they can Just Go Get A New One but i do think he’s got some residual weakness in his legs from having them crushed+cybercrosis and prefers to use his alt mode to travel short distances

5. What was the last time they cried, and under what circumstances?

yesterday. he accidentally stepped on someone’s foot and got scared. poor guy

6. Are they an oldest, middle, youngest or only child?

again, not applicable, but i think he has, like, “second youngest of 6 kids” energy

7. Describe the shoes they’re wearing.

human au—cheap workboots, but he’d rather be wearing cool, fashionable chunky sneakers. maybe air maxes. he thinks the little window is cool

8. Describe the place where they sleep.

more closely resembles a nest. he’s fucking comfortmaxxing. sleepy and nappilled. genuinely a little difficult to see him under all the pillows

9. What is their favorite holiday?

all of them! he’ll take any excuse to celebrate something. he actually likes holidays he doesn’t celebrate but his friends do the most, and also holidays he can use to tell stories

10. What objects do they always carry around with them?

see, he’d like to be the friend who always has hand sanitizer and scissors, but he’s not quite that organized, so at any given time you’d get like… one of his trinkets, wrench given to him by someone and never used “in case he needs it”, snacks (he can always be counted on to have snacks at least), small weapon (mostly to aid in bragging), and a datapad with notes on literally everything, half diary and half encyclopedia. you are not allowed to read it but he’ll read parts of it to you if you want

[dfows]

Monday

August 26th, 2024

First day of lab!! Waiting for the bart.

I had to buy new boots from Acme because after 3 semesters of abuse, I had to retire my workboots from RPD. There was a hole near the big toe knuckle that sparks would go into. I ruined a pair of socks this way.

I got tims in size 7 and it is a little tight on my bunion on my right foot. I don't want to destroy these brand new boots. I have brought spats for this reason. They look extremely stupid, but I don't care. I always look extremely stupid in my welding getup anyway.

I am going to be slightly late ugh I hate being late. And youtube music has turned off for no reason. The service here is shitty I guess.

---

Ok I am not going to be late lol. Bart is pretty fast.

---

Welding was good?

I did mig. Just lines on plate. We were supposed to do the welding process from last semester but I figured I should get practice with the gun since I'm learning FCAW this semester. I did stick last semester and I probably will never do it again LOL. The gasless aspect of stick was nice, but ultimately I was bad at it and don't care enough to improve.

Anyway, at first my mig beads were blobby and disgusting. Partially because the plate was too cold, but also because my hand was unsteady and my travel speed was inconsistent and my distance away from the plate was inconsistent. Basically everything was inconsistent.

Also, I think I was a little too far because the nozzle is different this semester and the contact tip is a little more recessed into it, so the visible stickout is not the same as what I'm used to. Also my desk setup was a bit too high or low and after I fiddled with it a bit I was a little more comfortable.

Started with flat, then did a few lines of horizontal. Being able to see the arc is really helpful, because if I line up the arc with the toe of the previous bead, I am able to get a perfect overlap (no little valley). However, today I could not see the arc at all. So I focused on the edges of the cooling puddle and tried to keep my line straight. I failed a few times because I am not good at drawing a straight line. Also I had to weld over this lumpy plate and was simultaneously trying to fill in the lumps. But since I couldn't see very well, this did not go very smoothly. Literally. It was not smooth.

Man, I'm excited to have a welding journal. Finally, somewhere to put my photos. Previously I just texted the photos to all my friends, most of whom did not care.

Also, my spats were awesome. They covered my boots completely and didn't look too dorky. I will not end this semester with ruined boots, ok. Imma try to make these boots last the rest of my welding degree.

Speaking of welding degree, I may be taking more courses than I anticipated because I asked Javier when we get to do more practical things and less theoretical practice projects and he said "in the C class." So. I will take that into consideration.

James said I could make a stool though. Maybe I will attempt this if I have time outside of the real classwork. I could just model it on an existing stool? Seems like a reasonable place to start.

[crusadingspacewarrior]

Do you wear work boots or cowboy boots?

Dress shoes. Didn't see that one coming did ya, now you don't know what to think.

I do wear workboots for when I do work outside. Cutting up logs with a chainsaw and knocking them off with a mighty boot kick is fun, they're also waterproof. I'm not into country music or anything like that so I don't own a pair of cowboy boots.

[icehearts]

mod list/WCIF below da cut ↓↓

1. Rinoa HAIR - Coffee by Mabel (port) by Liealee [ https://xivmodarchive.com/modid/85969 ] TOP - Appointed Makai Jacket by Rook [ https://ko-fi.com/s/04353c482f ] BOTTOMS - Ishgardian Expeditioner's Pantalettes by Rook [ https://ko-fi.com/s/78b0ff94d2 ] HANDS - Demeter by liealee [ https://xivmodarchive.com/modid/40641 ] SHOES - High House Halfboots (vanilla)

2. Aerith HAIR - Lyse x Hilda Mashup (port) by nilla [ https://xivmodarchive.com/modid/22569 ] HEAD - Ribbons! by cherry [ https://ko-fi.com/s/54f9a07f47 ] TOP - Easy Breezy by Amayaaaa [ https://xivmodarchive.com/modid/60003 ] BOTTOMS - Strappy Skirt by Storia [ https://trello.com/c/de30TwqL/10-strappy-skirt-bottoms ] HANDS - Demeter by liealee [ https://xivmodarchive.com/modid/40641 ] SHOES - Obsolete Android's Boots of Healing (vanilla)

3. Tifa HAIR - Cadence by emmer [ https://ko-fi.com/s/ab780496c7 ] EARRINGS - Tifa's Earrings by Reiry [ https://xivmodarchive.com/modid/76460 ] TOP & BOTTOMS - Cropped Up by cherry [ https://ko-fi.com/s/dd20876057 ] HANDS - Dominique Gloves by Alex, but I couldn't find a link to the mod or any of the modmaker's other stuff T_T SHOES - Cyma Unisex Boots by gutterdreamer [ https://trello.com/c/gpvPjGVz/135-cyma-boots ]

4. Black & Green HAIR - Rosewater by floralhaze [ https://xivmodarchive.com/modid/50594 ] HEAD - ribbon set by clef [ taken down I think? ] TOP & BOTTOMS - obsolete dress by clef [ also taken down I think ] HANDS - Edenmoon Gloves Mashups by crystalcorde [ https://xivmodarchive.com/modid/64546 ] SHOES - High-Heeled Hyuran Longboots by sparrows [ https://xivmodarchive.com/modid/24532 ]

5. Garnet HAIR - Lexen-Tails Viera Mashup by efi, but this is another one where I couldn't find a link to the mod or any of the modmaker's other stuff u_u NECKLACE - Healing Wind by wisteriaphyte [ https://ko-fi.com/s/6202466fc3 ] TOP - Wa Da Da by visix [ https://visix.gumroad.com/l/gzikjk?layout=profile ] BOTTOMS - Magitek Corps by Tofu Mods [ https://ko-fi.com/s/513009e5a5 ] SHOES - Fieldfiend's Costume Workboots (vanilla)

I put my OC in an outfit. I put my OC in another outfit. then I put my OC in anothe—

[societysonlooker]

Seeing/meeting butches my age is the best thing ever it sparks so much serotonin. Good on you for doing your own thing and good on you for being who you wanna be. You deserve the absolute world.

[osha-janitor]

(( ooc @osha-official-the-sequel i wouldnt usually tag you in things but i saw the fanart of osha and became Inspired

I thought it would be neat to have an osha who looked more like a tradie (tradesperson? Idk if tradie is aussie slang or not) since when I think of OSHA I think of building sites. I also gave them a suit outfit as well, since office buildings also have OSHA regulations they have to abide by! The left outfit's gloves are also based on a pair i own!

[Start ID: An image of two humanoid figures with the OSHA logo for a head against a blue background.

The left figure is wearing proper PPE for a building site: gloves with a hi-vis strip, a hi-vis vest, a hard hat and ear protectors over a blue short sleeve shirt and dark blue trousers. They also have steel capped workboots on. An arrow near the head shows goggles and a facemask with the text "Additional PPE".

The right figure is wearing a black suit, with a white shirt and red tie. The suit also has cufflinks that resemble hardhats. End ID]