#robert-modification

[daily-ron-fnf]

Day 365 (the final daily ron. Thanks for following :) )

[daily-ron-fnf]

Day 11

@robert-modification (GO FOLLOW THAT BLOG………………….)

[femmefatalevibe]

What does it mean to speak less when trying to seduce someone’. Can you provide a conference example of how it would look like? How should one act etc?

Hi love! I would say that this concept boils down to two main principles: Not offering any more information about yourself than absolutely necessary to continue the conversation (nothing too personal, keep it light), and remaining interested to be interesting.

Regarding not offering any more information about yourself than absolutely necessary to continue the conversation (nothing too personal, keep it light):

Keep the conversation on a more surface level; avoid any sensitive topics or emotionally-charged topics (like a breakup, toxic ex, strained family relationship, financial struggles, workplace drama, or job/career difficulties)

Focus on conversational topics you would pitch to a magazine, post on social media, or take a quiz on vs. something that would be better saved for a close friend chat or therapy session

On remaining interested to be interesting:

Ask questions before sharing information about yourself. Initiate a conversation with a question. Ask relevant follow-up questions as a response vs. offering to disclose an anecdote or personal information about yourself

Use their answers or shared stories as a way to frame your reply. Volley the conversation back to your conversation partner by paraphrasing what they just said to you to show that you were listening and sought to understand what they were saying. After paraphrasing, ask another question that dives deeper into an aspect of their shared story, opinion, recollection of an event, etc. As an example, if they were telling you about a work presentation, ask about how they felt before, after, or during, what it was about, why the presentation mattered, what their colleagues and bosses thought, the next steps, where it was held, what they had for lunch after, etc.

Hope this helps xx

[zimisnotdrifting]

BOBTOBER DAY 17- AU

FT @robert-modification

[tj-dragonblade]

[FIC] Baby Got Back

Fandom: The Sandman Pairing: Dreamling Rated: T Word Count: 3933 Tags: Human AU, gym meet-cute, lust at first sight, call that a meat-cute, supporting appearance by Death, Dream of the Endless is a horny little weasel, Hob puts the 'ass' in 'exercise class', Dream of the Endless (Sturridge Edition) has no cake to serve, embarrassment, exercise, Death is the worst (best) wingman

Notes: This happened bc @dragonnan shared this video in the Mr Sadman server and the scene Would Not Leave my brain. The meat-cute tag is also courtesy of Dragonnan. ���️ Title is of course borrowed from Sir Mix-a-Lot's song of the same name. I physically could not call this anything else.

Summary: Dream's sister drags him to the gym. Will the instructor and his assets be enough to convince Dream it's worth his time?

On AO3 Dream is pleased to see, as he begrudgingly follows his sister into the exercise class she'd signed them up for, that at least the instructor isn't the bodybuilding jock type that has historically put him off going to the gym entirely. Dream gets only a glance at the back of him as they enter the space, but he is slim and athletically built—neither thick-necked nor thickly-muscled, nor is any part of him built like a tree trunk.

That is a relief.

Dream still does not want to be here.

But he loves his sister, and is ultimately not immune to her dogged persistence.

"Come on, Dream, just one time, please? I'm sure you'll find something you like about it!"

Months, she has been cajoling him; it is his hope that she will drop the subject now that he has finally given in.

"Hello, welcome everyone!" Mr. Not-a-Musclebound-Jock speaks up, drawing attention to start the class. "My name is Robert, but you can call me Hob, and I'll be your instructor for this undertaking! Good to see some of you back, and nice to see all these new faces too! Now, today we're going to start off slow; I'll demonstrate some techniques and we can all try them out one at a time before we really get going, alright?" He claps his hands, rubs them together. "Those of you who've been here before, please feel free to help out the newcomers if they need it. Especially if you brought them." He glances at Dream and Death with a tiny nod, as Death is one of those returning students, and Dream.

Well.

He is hearing the words—"quick stretches", now, and "warmup"—he is paying attention, truly, but he is also.

Staring.

Which is not so terrible; all eight of them in the class are watching the instructor and following along with the warmup, as they should. But Dream does not think his thoughts are in line with anyone else's.

Because the instructor, Hob—he is gorgeous. Arrestingly so. Beautiful in a very ordinary way; average height, the previously noted slim build, brown hair greying slightly at the temples and pulled into a messy bun, dark eyes, strong nose, friendly smile. Nothing individually remarkable, but together? Oh. That smile lances straight through Dream in a way that makes his stomach curl up giddily. Hob is wearing a white t-shirt that is tight and thin enough it can't quite hide what looks to be a lush thicket of chest hair, and the amount of hair on his arms and legs further supports that hypothesis. He's wearing mallard green spandex shorts that show off, well, everything, and it's all very nice.

Perhaps this class will be tolerable, after all.

"Okay, the first thing I want to tackle is a modified squat form," Hob says once they've finished the warmup stretches, and Dream is immediately reassessing his optimism. He hates squats; hates most sorts of physical exercise, to be honest, which is why Death had had to wheedle so hard to get him to join her. But squats, of course, were particularly loathsome. And Hob sounds far too cheerful about them.

"This modification is pretty simple; you'll just need to find a pole, here, and do like this." Hob turns so his back is mostly to the class, grabs an upright bar on the nearest weight machine—Dream has no idea what any of this equipment is properly called—then plants his feet far apart and leans back, bending his knees into a beautifully right-angled squat and Dream?

Dream nearly swallows his tongue.

Hob's green spandex shorts and everything they contain have gone from 'nice' to 'scandalously on display' and Dream is absolutely mesmerized. The way Hob's body drops, the wide stance of his legs, the way his cheeks spread as he sinks low—Dream is having capital-T Thoughts, none of which are in the bible, as Desire is fond of saying. Hob's thighs, while built slim, are well-muscled and incredibly toned and every contour of quads and hamstrings is straining into beautiful prominence beneath those shorts. His arse is likewise presented, every curve and dimple beautifully highlighted by shiny green fabric, and Dream is very sure he can see the imprint of individual hairs beneath the stretched spandex. The material is rendered slightly-sheer by the position and, unmistakably, there is a distinctive 'whale-tail' flaring above Hob's shapely cheeks.

Dream's mouth goes dry. Is he—?

There is a telling lack of lines under the spandex.

He is. Hob is wearing a thong.

Dream is ridiculously grateful for the Extreme Support jock strap he'd put on before coming here; he is having a most unfortunate reaction to every aspect of Hob's demonstration, but his shorts are far more forgiving than Hob's and the underwear beneath them is keeping things decent enough for the public environment.

He hopes.

"See the problem so many people have with squats is the knee strain," Hob is saying, as he straightens up again. He lets go of the pole. "Most of the time when we do squats, we're leaning forward a bit for balance, right?" He bends into position, demonstrating; his arse and thighs are on display again and it is no less arresting than the previous example. "And that's where that knee pressure comes from, trying to keep that balance."

Dream can think of several ways to help Hob keep his balance in such a position, all of which involve their bodies in intimate proximity and none of which would be particularly easy on anyone's knees.

"But like this"—Hob takes hold of the equipment again and leans back, drops slowly into his squat—"it's easy to keep your chest straight, get all that nice core support and this ninety-degree angle here"—his free hand strokes the curve of his own arse from hip to thigh and Dream inhales sharply—"and your anchoring pressure is all in your heels. No knee strain!" He sinks deep, presumably in demonstration and Dream is so full of lewd thoughts he genuinely fears he might burst. He watches the flex of Hob's thighs and arse as the man raises himself and lowers back into another squat; he bites his tongue to still the whimper rising in his throat, watches Hob perform another slow controlled bounce, is painfully aware of all his blood rushing south.

"This keeps all the working power in your glutes, which of course helps you build a nice tight round arse—and that's what we're all here for right?" Hob grins over his shoulder as he sinks down again.

A smattering of laughter answers him, including a chuckle from Death, but Dream cannot stop staring at Hob's arse. Which is indeed. Round. And tight. Chiseled. Contoured into sharp relief beneath the stretch of spandex shorts. And the texture of his body hair on top of all that? The thong? The way his cheeks flex and spread as he sinks low, clench beautifully as he rises up again?

Dream is utterly lost.

His sister bumps him with her shoulder. "Alright there, Dream?"

He makes a tiny, strangled noise that he hopes she will take for assent. He can only imagine what color his face is at the moment.

"You can do this at home, too, by the way, if you happen to have a pole—or a sturdy door jamb to hang onto." Hob demonstrates one more deep squat and straightens up, turning to face the class again. "Alright. Everyone find a support and try it out!"

Dream cannot. He cannot fathom duplicating the exercise with the vision of Hob's arse in his head, performing those same motions—supportive underwear or not, he is going to embarrass himself.

"Here we go!" Death singsongs next to him, indicating the nearest weight machine—which does in fact have two upright supports that will serve their purposes. She steps over and takes hold of one, leans herself back with feet planted wide and performs a squat.

Which does wonders to clear Dream's head; it's not titillating when his sister does it and he finds he can refocus appropriately.

"This feels ridiculous," he mumbles, joining her and reluctantly taking up position. "This looks ridiculous."

"Didn't look ridiculous when Hob did it, right?" Death's tone is entirely nonchalant, not even teasing, but Dream seizes up all the same. He knows she's sharp, that she can't have missed the way he was staring nor what, precisely, he'd been staring at. But her words are entirely innocent. "Just need a bit of practice and you'll make it look that good too, little brother."

He is about to reply as he lowers himself, something scathing and devastatingly witty, surely, but another voice cuts in first.

"Ah, so this is your little brother, DeeDee?"

Hob.

Dream, having just reached the lowest point in his first squat, finds quite abruptly that his body has decided to forget how to move.

His sister is answering. "Hey Hob! Yeah, this is Dream. I finally convinced him to come in with me."

"Wonderful! Always glad to have new friends join the fun!" Hob holds out a hand.

As if Dream is in any position to shake it.

His eyes are nearly level with Hob's chest and it takes every fiber of willpower he possesses to keep them up on Hob's face; in his distraction, he lets go of the pole to shake hands anyway.

Inevitibly, he falls flat on his arse.

"Oh god I'm so sorry!" Hob reaches to help him up, looking alarmed.

His sister is stifling her laughter.

"Thank you," Dream manages, pride bruised, face aflame, but he takes Hob's hand and pulls himself quickly to his feet. He does not dare look around to see who else in the class has borne witness to his bumbling ignominy. Besides which. Hob is no less attractive in close proximity and Dream's brain is replaying all those squats in quick flashes while also gibbering about the chest hair showing through that thin white t-shirt, none of which is at all conducive to keeping his composure. Desperately, he tries to pick up the thread of the conversation. "Yes. I am Dream. DeeDee's brother."

He never calls Death DeeDee. And she had just introduced him, by name, as her brother.

He needs to stop talking before he embarrasses himself any further.

But Hob only grins brightly, shakes his hand firmly. "I'm Hob, Hob Gadling. Teach the class, obviously." He drops Dream's hand, clears his throat. "Didn't mean to interrupt your practice—or drop you on your arse, apologies! Let's try that form again?"

"What? Yes." Dream tears his gaze from Hob's mouth and the dimple in his chin, and then again from Hob's chest, turns to blindly grab at the pole he'd been using. "Like this?" He moves on instinct, dropping into a squat, trying his hardest to remember what Hob had demonstrated without fixating on how his arse looked doing it.

He is not successful.

And he still hates squats.

"That's a good start," Hob says, encouragingly, and Dream is mortified by the way something in him warms to it. "Now let's try straightening up a bit more—may I?"

Dream is nodding assent before he realizes that Hob's hand is hovering over his back, that Hob is asking permission to touch.

He barely stifles the sound in his throat as Hob's fingers skate down his spine, offer firm pressure just below his waist while his other hand guides Dream's shoulders back. "There we go, see? Let the pole hold your balance so you can get this ninety-degree angle, right here"—his hand moves from Dream's back to his hip, a professional touch that nevertheless sends Dream's brain up in smoke—" and takes the strain off your knees. See?"

"Yes," Dream manages, barely aware of what he's agreeing with.

"Now, when you push yourself up, you've got to make sure you're using your legs," Hob cautions, as Dream rises. "Don't pull yourself up using the pole; you want the work happening in your thighs and your glutes." Thankfully (regrettably), his demonstrative touching seems to be done, and Dream does not have to cope with Hob's hands on his arse. He does not know how much more of this he can handle—the proximity, the images still burned in his brain. The touching. That voice.

That smile.

He just needs. One moment. A chance to compose himself, to remember how to behave like a normal human being.

He lowers himself into another squat, muscles already beginning to protest, making sure to keep his form as Hob had instructed.

"Good!" Hob says, sounding genuinely pleased, and Dream's insides turn to goo. "Use those glutes, excellent!"

"Because that's how you build a nice round arse, right?" Death says—how did Dream manage to forget that she is literally standing right beside him through all of this—and Hob chuckles, pats Dream briefly on the shoulder.

"That's right! And it looks like you could definitely use a little help in that area!"

Dream face is aflame. He is aware of the aesthetic deficiencies of his own backside. He does not need them commented upon by a man unfairly blessed in that regard, in front of his sister, particularly not while he is struggling through a horny crisis over this same man. He seizes desperately for the thread of escape glimmering in the comment.

"You dare offer such insult to one who has come to your class for its benefits?" He stands upright as he says it, letting go the stupid pole and drawing haughty arrogance around him like a cloak to hide the tatters of his pride and composure. "How disappointingly unprofessional. Excuse me."

And he flees.

Technically, he strides from the gym area at a reasonable pace. But inside, he is running. He ignores Hob calling after him, ignores the voice in his own head screaming about how rudely he just treated the pretty man with the beautiful arse, ignores the other voice in his head that sounds like his sister scolding him and ducks into the nearest restroom.

He just needs. A moment.

He braces both hands on the sink, grateful there is no one here to see, hangs his head and lets regret wash over him.

He has ruined his chances, he is sure of it. Chances at what, he can't quite say; it's not as though he was planning to proposition Hob nor ask him out. Just. Quietly suffer through classes with his sister and silently ogle Hob for an hour three times a week, perhaps. If he is honest with himself. But Hob is certain not to want him in his class again, nor will his sister likely bring him back after how he has behaved today.

That's one problem solved, he thinks, bitterly.

He should apologize for his rudeness. But he will not interrupt Hob's class to do it. He must wait for Death regardless, and the fact that she has not stormed into the men's room after him means she thinks he needs time to nurse his wounds and pull himself together. So he will do so.

He turns on the tap, splashes water on his face, dries it with the length of paper towel the motion-sensitive dispenser offers him. He stares at himself in the mirror for a moment, his pale face splotchy and gaunt and sour, mouth pulled into an easy frown, and sighs.

No, he had no chances to ruin in the first place.

With a sigh, he turns away and leaves the washroom, retrieves his phone and wallet and Death's as well from their locker, then finds a seat at one of the little round tables in the juice bar area to wait. He checks his watch; the class is scheduled to run for another forty minutes.

It is a long time to sit alone with his thoughts; he opens the sudoku app on his phone, mindlessly working through puzzle after puzzle while he waits.

It has been just under thirty-five minutes when his brooding peace is disturbed.

"Dream, oh good." Incongruously it is Hob's voice, not his sister's. "DeeDee said you'd probably be here. I wanted to apologize."

None of these words are the ones Dream might have expected; he opens his mouth to reply but instead of something normal what comes out is, "But your class is not over?"

Hob blinks, looking as nonplussed as Dream feels. "Er. Not quite, no, but your sister offered to run everyone through cool-down so I could come find you."

"Why?" Why can he not stop his mouth running ahead of his thoughts, that is the true question.

"Like I said. I wanted to apologize." Hob shifts his weight awkwardly, drawing Dream's attention unhelpfully to the way his thin white shirt has gained additional transparency thanks to the half hour spent sweating in front of his class. "My comment was entirely unprofessional, you're right. And I'm sorry."

"It is not untrue." Dream's backside does indeed leave much to be desired in comparison to others. "But. I appreciate the apology." He appreciates the view of Hob's chest as well, but mercifully manages to hold his tongue on that count.

He does not quite manage to keep his eyes from flicking down to Hob's shorts, to the smoothness of the bulge artfully contained by the spandex.

Thong, he remembers, and his mouth again goes a little dry at the thought.

"May I sit?"

"Please." The rote answer is out before Dream can puzzle over why Hob wishes to join him.

Hob pulls out the other chair and drops into it, leans forward just a little. "Really, I'm sorry. I picked up the vibe of your sister's teasing and ran with it but I haven't known you long enough for that to be welcomed or appreciated. I was very much out of line. And I apologize."

"I. Apologize, as well. For speaking so harshly in front of others and making a scene." Dream is trying very hard to ignore the way his insides are wibbling at Hob's words, Hob's voice.

"What? Oh. No, no, it's forgotten, don't worry about it." Hob waves a hand dismissively. "My fault in the first place."

Dream lets the matter lie.

There is a moment of awkward silence.

"So. First time to class, huh?" Hob flashes a bright smile at him, quick and awkward and terribly endearing. "What did you think?"

"It was. Brief," Dream says, before he can think better of it, and Hob laughs.

Dream's stomach swoops helplessly, flutters in consternated delight. Oh. Oh, but he is utterly gone on the sunshine this man exudes.

"Sorry, sorry. Of course. You'd definitely need a full session before you could answer that; stupid question." Hob shakes his head, grin fading, hesitation creeping into his demeanor. "Do you think you'd want to come back again?"

"I am. Undecided," Dream admits, honesty seeing him through as he stumbles over the possibility—does Hob want him to come back? Is Hob hoping to see him again?

Is he willing to suffer a regular gym appointment for the possibility?

"Ah. Well." Hob sounds downright nervous now. "It would probably be…good if you didn't?"

"I beg your pardon?" Dream is so affronted at hearing it stated so plainly he forgets that he has earned the rejection.

Hob startles. "Crap, no, sorry! That didn't come out right." He laughs, a nervous awkward laugh, but his smile is still bright. "Let me try again—sorry. Sorry." He takes a deep breath. "I'd like—I'd like to ask you out. But if you're in a class that I'm teaching then ethically I probably shouldn't do that."

Dream is, metaphorically, knocked in his aesthetically-deficient arse yet again. "You wish to ask me out? On a date?"

"Yeah. Yes." Hob reaches to toy with his earlobe, head tilting into the unconscious motion adorably. "Your sister has told me a lot about you, been talking you up for months and you're very pretty and I would love to get to know you under more comfortable circumstances? If you're interested, of course. No hard feelings if you're not I know we've barely met and I've already put my foot in it many times over but. Could I possibly convince you to let me try again?"

Dream is impressed by the flood of words just tumbling freely forth, and a bit gobsmacked yet unsurprised at 'your sister's talked you up' even as the pieces begin to click into place—but most of all he's delighted that Hob seems interested in him, and charmed by the earnestness with which Hob's asking for a second chance.

As if Dream's little tizzy in the class had been anything more valid than a cover for his own embarrassment. As if Hob has anything to apologize for.

He will have words with his sister later, though.

"My sister. Is setting us up."

"I do believe that was her intention, yes." Hob looks hopeful. "I'm far from opposed, if you're alright with it?"

"Then. All things considered. I will not be returning to your class, Hob." He offers a smile that he hopes is friendly with an undercurrent of coyness, and not off-putting. He glances up from beneath his lashes to catch the way Hob is blinking, his grin broadening in delight.

"Really? Okay! Are you—are you free for dinner tomorrow night?"

"I am. Where would you like to meet?"

"Merv's is a lovely quiet little pub not far from here—do you know it?"

"I do not."

"I'll text you the details then; it's relaxed and low-key but very nice, nothing terribly fancy but amazing food. And they accommodate allergies and dietary restrictions if those're a concern. Can I give you my number?"

"Of course." Dream opens a new contact and presents his phone; Hob types in his info with impressive speed and hands it back.

"Send me a text so I've got yours? My phone's still in the other room."

"Of course," Dream repeats, already composing the message as Hob stands from the small table. This is Dream—I look forward to our date tomorrow. Simple and to the point. Truthful and sincere. Nothing embarrassingly forward like the thoughts running rampant in his head. I want to rub my cheek in your sweaty chest hair like a cat. Or I would like to peel your shorts from your magnificent arse with my teeth. Surely that is too much for a first text preceding a first date. He will refrain.

"I've got another class to teach so I've got to run," Hob is saying as he pushes his chair back in. "But I'm delighted to have met you and I'm glad I won't be seeing you in class again, heh." He winks, an actual genuine wink that charms Dream all over again.

"As am I." He leaves it at that, never mind how badly he wants to say something smoky and lascivious about Hob giving him private instruction in whatever techniques he cares to demonstrate; he thinks that one of them might combust if he could deliver the line correctly, and possibly it would not be him. But he will save it for tomorrow evening, should the date go well. "I will see you tomorrow."

"Looking forward to it." Hob flashes his sunny smile again and turns, striding quickly back to the gym proper.

Dream watches him go, tight round arse and toned hairy thighs on perfect display, and shifts a little in his seat.

He has a feeling the date will go very well indeed.

= Started: 1/10/25 Drafted: 1/15/25 Posted: 1/20/25

It should be noted that I cannot vouch for whether or not the squat modification used herein is legit or safe. The validity of the exercise was obviously not the point of this fic, but, y'know. Just in case.

[scariusaquarius]

rehab. 12.

Avenger! Bucky Barnes x Winter Soldier! Fem! Reader

Summary: While on a mission to find any more possible super soldiers that were a part of the Winter Soldier program, Steve and Bucky make a discovery in an abandoned HYDRA base that was cleared out a few years prior to their mission. They discover the Reader, a long-forgotten soldier that was still asleep within a functioning cryostasis pod; still awaiting orders. While Bucky isn't happy about it, he is put up to the challenge of helping to rehabilitate the soldier in Wakanda where she may be able to become a person again.

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A/n: So, we got to see a bit into the world of (Y/n) (L/n), and now we get to see how the Avengers are dealing with the information that they have recovered. Also, thank you so much for all of the birthday wishes!!! 25 doesn't feel any different RIP ;asldfja;sdflk Also, if you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee! If you would prefer to read Rehab on Archive, you may do so right HERE!

This is an au where Bucky joined the avengers but still rehabilitated in Wakanda (sometime before Infinity War [canon divergent cause NOPE]). I am NOT fluent in Russian, so I did use google translate cause I couldn't find a good translator that I trusted. If anything is wrong, PLEASE let me know!! Also, I tried to list as many warnings as possible so you know what the story will contain as chapters are posted. Stay safe!

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Genre: Slowburn, Enemies to Lovers/Friends to Lovers, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Humor, Drama, Dark Content Rated: Explicit Warning: Angst, Dark Content: Graphic Depictions of Sexual Assault, Blood and Gore, Mentions of Manipulation, Kidnapping, Canon-Typical Violence, Body Horror, Nonconsensual Body Modification/Scarring, Emotional and Physical Abuse, Mentions of Murder, Mentions of Suicidal Thoughts/Ideation, Graphic Depictions of Human Remains, Mentions of Sexual Coercion/Manipulation, Death, Misuse of Drugs/Forced Drugging, Self-Harm (Graphic Depictions and Mentions), Nightmares

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Author: ScariusAquarius

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rehab masterlist. chapter 10 / chapter 11

When Steve and Clint arrived back in Wakanda, they were eager to tell the Avengers what they had found. However, when they arrived back at Shuri's lab, Tony looked as though he had seen a ghost. Steve frowned, and Natasha whispered to him.

"It's not looking too good right now. Shuri and Tony found the calling card for the creator behind the chip. Turns out that Tony's got a bit of history with the creator."

Steve and Clint walked into the lab where Tony was watching over the soldier with a hand to his chin in thought. Despite Steve greeting the man, Tony didn't seem to hear him. After a moment, Tony stated.

"You ever get this feeling that you're being haunted by something? No matter how much you try to get rid of it, it just keeps following you? Somehow, someway?"

Steve couldn't help but to think of Peggy, nodding solemnly before he turned to look at (Y/n) (L/n).

"Some things haunt me, some things just follow. I don't think they're entirely the same."

Tony scoffed, shaking his head as he quipped.

"Yeah, well it is in this case. You see, I just took apart that little chip that made MC 2 go haywire, and you know what I found? The calling card to a scientist that used to work closely with my father...someone that my father used to recall as a very good friend."

Steve was confused for a moment before connecting the dots, and he asked.

"Was his name Robert (L/n)?"

Tony nodded, and Steve couldn't help but to shake his head.

"Well, that explains a lot, actually."

"Why do you say that?"

Steve wordlessly handed Tony the file, and Bucky's eyes shot wide open.

"Wait, is that her file? You found her?"

Steve nodded, but his jaw was clenched so hard that Bucky was afraid to ask about it. Tony slapped the paper down onto the table roughly after a few moments of reading and walked out of the room wordlessly, and Bucky snatched the paper up.

(Y/n) (L/n).

The last name sparked a bit of recognition in Bucky, but he couldn't place the familiarity of the name just yet. Bucky was perturbed about the way Tony had reacted, and he asked.

"What's his deal?"

Shuri sighed and revealed gently, pulling up some documents of Robert (L/n).

"Robert (L/n) was a close friend of Howard Stark's up until Project Rebirth. After Erskine was assassinated and Heinz Kruger attempted to steal the serum, Robert continued HYDRA's work under the guise of a fellow scientist that wanted to defeat HYDRA."

"A double agent? How do we know all of this about him?"

Natasha raised a hand, stating.

"I found some files about him on the databanks that you and Bucky downloaded from the facility that the soldier was found in. I didn't think it was relevant at the time cause the files didn't include pictures, and we didn't know the name of the soldier yet."

Shuri nodded and she brought up a few pictures and files, the pictures of Robert and his unfriendly sneer. The man was overwhelmingly tall and quite lean, hair greased and combed while a mustache adorned his top lip. There was a woman next to him, looking happy as she held a hand to her pregnant belly; seemingly naive to the sinister gaze within Robert's eyes.

"This here is his wife, Doris (Y/n). We don't think she knew anything about Robert's double life with HYDRA...but she was also good friends with Maria Stark before Maria married Howard. She helped to deliver Tony when he was born."

Steve's eyebrows shot up, and Clint groaned gently, rubbing his head.

"Man, this is starting to hurt my head. So, Robert was with HYDRA, befriended and used Howard's trust to gain information on the serum...yet some other guy tried to snatch it? Why do that?"

Natasha replied, pointing out.

"If the attention isn't on you, you can get a lot more done."

Clint's expression changed to one of understanding, and Shuri nodded in agreement.

"Yes. Though, with Heinz being unsuccessful, Robert attempted to copy Howard's serum to the best of his ability. Robert was unsuccessful. In reports that he had made, almost all of the subjects that he experimented on did not survive any trial serums he made."

"So, how was he able to make (Y/n) into a super soldier?"

Shuri pursed her lips and brought up a newspaper article that went into detail about (Y/n)'s supposed death.

"While (Y/n) was on the way to Baltimore with her mother, they crashed into another vehicle after hitting ice. Their car caught fire, and both Doris and (Y/n) were announced dead at the scene."

"I'm guessing (Y/n) wasn't actually dead, and Robert or HYDRA picked her up."

Clint scratched his head, asking.

"Why go after her though? What made (Y/n) special?"

Natasha shrugged before offering with a slight wave of her hand.

"Robert must have used blood samples to specifically cater the serum to the subject, and (Y/n) was the only one that was successful."

Bucky grumbled, shaking his head.

"Hello, super soldier."

Steve nodded, and he turned to Shuri, asking her.

"Is Robert still alive?"

"No. Robert passed away from natural causes in 2008. I assume that this is when Rollins took over as her Handler, but we won't know for sure until (Y/n) wakes up."

Bucky suddenly felt bad, wondering if there was anybody else that might have been family for (Y/n), and Steve sat down next to Bucky, stating quietly as Shuri began to work on deprogramming the soldier.

"We found her, Bucky."

"We haven't found her yet. She's still trapped beneath that rubble somewhere...we just know her name now...know that she had a family...a career...a mom and dad..."

Steve pursed his lips, and Bucky revealed to the captain, giving him an intrigued expression.

"She somehow knows Meltzer Woods, and it's bothering me that I don't know why. You remember me telling you about how my folks and I would go on walks there often?"

Steve nodded, chuckling.

"Oh, yeah. I remember you telling me about how you terrorized Rebecca to the point your mom was livid with you one time while your dad was at the camp."

"Not my fault she had a fear of bugs and agreed to go into the woods."

The two men chuckled, and Bucky sighed, shaking his head. Steve muttered gently, patting Bucky on the back.

"It could just also be nothing...a huge coincidence."

Bucky shook his head, muttering.

"There are no such thing as coincidences when it comes to HYDRA."

Steve gazed long and hard at Bucky before looking back at the woman, watching as a machine carefully and slowly reconstructed the bone and tissue of her skull before it seemed as though she had never been operated.

"Am I interrupting?"

Tony walked in, hands in his pockets, and his cheeks and eyes were slightly red. It seemed as though the man had been crying, but neither of the super soldiers commented about it.

Tony stood at the end of the bed and stared at the woman, a neutral expression on his face before his shoulders fell slightly. Steve asked the man gently, sparing a look at Bucky before looking back at Tony.

"Do you want us to give you some space?"

Tony looked perplexed then, as if the question was one that he had never heard before, and he wasn't exactly sure how to respond. While Tony preferred to be on his own and do things on his own (minus Pepper, but she was a different case), Tony knew that there had to come a point when he stopped ostracizing those around him.

'Solitude and isolation are two completely different things, Tony, and I know that you struggle a lot with that because of your childhood with your dad,' his therapist had said.

'Why don't you try to reach out and be a little bit more open? You don't have to reveal everything at once, but take it a step at a time. Choose what you want them to listen to or help you with. With what you've told me, I think the Avengers just really want to be your friend, and that's okay.'

"One step at a time," Tony muttered to himself before he huffed, glancing down at the ground. Tapping his foot with anxiety, Tony crossed his arms and began to speak.

"There's this feeling that nags at me every time I look at your stupid perfect faces...this feeling of just...trying to understand why my dad was apart of something as big as this."

Steve and Bucky both sat back in their seats, almost at attention as Tony began to open up to them.

"It's because of my dad's work that led to you being Captain America, that led to your torture and time as Winter Soldier, and now...now he's directly linked to her. Granted, it wasn't really him directly...but he sure did have a big hand."

Erskine's face crossed into Steve's mind, and Steve looked away, replying.

"Howard wanted to ensure a way that we could fight against HYDRA and the Nazis so that the Allied forces could win the war. I don't think he meant for things to turn out like they did."

"Sometimes I wish I could go back into time and just choke the bastard. All that goddamn intellect and look where it got us."

Bucky was quiet, glancing down at his metal arm before he looked at Tony. He wasn't really sure what to say; if anything at all. How could you comfort the man whose parents you killed? That wasn't exactly a can of worms that Bucky wanted to open. Instead, he stated.

"I think what is important now is that we give this woman a life and finally eradicate HYDRA once and for all. If not for her, then...for you and Howard."

He gave Tony a gentle but shy look; hoping that the man wouldn't lash out at him, and Tony looked as though he wasn't sure what to say. Placing a hand over his chest and the other onto his chin, Tony hummed.

"If Rollins already knew that she had been awakened and thought that she would be a liability, then that means there has to be a main line to the chip. If we can trace that, then we should be able to find Rollins."

Natasha suddenly plopped down beside the soldier, throwing a thumb drive onto the table with a haughty smirk as she kicked her feet up.

"Did I really outsmart Iron Man? I think I should add that to my resume."

"You don't have a resume. You legally can't."

Tony quipped back with a roll of his eyes and he snatched the thumb drive as Natasha just grinned wider.

"Listen, miracles happen all of the time, but that doesn't mean they happen again in the same lifetime. Don't get your hopes up, spider-granny."

"Did you just call me old?"

Tony shrugged before uploading the files that were onto the drive into his computer, and he brought up a hologram of the earth, a beacon of light shooting up from the main source of the signal. Tony sighed gently, tilting his head.

"You know, I was dreaming about Morocco last night."

"Fez, Morocco?"

Steve questioned, looking a bit confused before he turned to Natasha.

"What's there?"

"If I had to guess: another secret base for HYDRA?"

Steve pursed his lips as Natasha just shrugged, and Bucky crossed his arms as he stood tall.

"We should get there as soon as possible. The faster that we catch Rollins, the better off we'll be."

"Slow your horses, MC 1, we need to be smart about this."

Tony gave Bucky a firm look, and Bucky just squinted his eyes as Tony began to explain.

"It's possible that Rollins knows that we know about the chip. We want to stay ahead of the game here. Luckily, we have the answers right here."

Tony brought up another hologram that pictured a document with a list of names.

"FRIDAY, you wanna read this out?"

The AI immediately answered, zooming in on each city she named out.

"Of course, Mr. Stark. After scanning through all of the documents that were recovered from liberated and abandoned HYDRA bases, as well as scans through the black book and red book, I have compiled a complete list of all mentioned HYDRA bases, as well as a list of possible locations as well. Here are the locations."

Isle Trinidad, South America. (Liberated, NLA.)

The Shelf, Antarctica. (Location Unspecified. Possible operation.)

Himalayas (Location unspecified. Possible operation.)

The Red Room, Russia. (Destroyed. NLA.)

Swiss Alps, Switzerland. (Directly mentioned. Possible operation.)

"There were many more locations mentioned, but since they have been destroyed and are no longer active, I have elected to leave those out. There has been no indication of a base in Fez, Morocco. It is possible that Mr. Rollins has planted the main communicator in order to escape."

Natasha hummed, nodding.

"That's the smart move. Rollins seems to already know that we're after him. The best thing that he can do is plant the communication device then get the hell out of dodge while we're on a wild goose chase."

Steve shook his head, huffing deeply.

"We can't investigate a possibility without having concrete evidence of his presence. If we go in somewhere blind, we're not only giving Rollins the upper hand, but we open ourselves up to risk as well."

Bucky added while glancing back at (Y/n).

"There's a possibility that Rollins knows that we're here. If we're all busy with a mission trying to find him, he could come here to retrieve her."

Tony shrugged, offering.

"Okay, then let's wake her up. See how bad her brain is scrambled and see if she knows where Rollins could be."

Steve became stern, shaking his head.

"Tony, that's not possible. (Y/n) needs time to recover and heal. If we overwhelm her, we're only going to hurt her."

Tony ran a hand through his hair, looking frustrated, and Steve said carefully.

"We're going to bring Rollins to justice and we're going to eradicate HYDRA once and for all. I promise you that."

"Oh, don't you go all patriotic on me. It's not even the fourth of July yet."

Bucky pursed his lips to keep from chuckling as Steve glared at Tony, and Natasha just rolled her eyes.

"So, why don't we compromise? We have a whole team of people back at the compound that we can send out to each location to cut any and all possibilities. I can already think of some teams to get together."

Tony's eyebrows raised, a skeptical look on his face as he asked.

"Yeah? What you got, Romanoff?"

Natasha hummed, shrugging her shoulders.

"FRIDAY gave us three locations, Wakanda being a possible fourth because of the soldier being here. King T'Challa, Shuri, and Bucky can stay here to watch over her since they're already here. Since you and Pete have heated suits, I think you two and maybe Banner could go to the Shelf. Clint, Wanda, and I can go to the Swiss Alps. Steve, Thor, and Sam Wilson can go to the Himalayas."

Steve made an expression of approval, but Tony shook his head, stating.

"I really don't want to involve the kid in this."

"Tony, he's an Avenger too."

Tony snapped, standing up straight as he glared at Steve.

"Yeah, and he's still a goddamn kid, Cap. I'm not involving him. End of discussion. I'll have Vision go instead."

Bucky offered, shrugging his shoulders.

"Okay, so what if he came here? He'd still be safe, and we could benefit from his webs in case something happens or (Y/n) freaks out. He's not in as much danger as he would be out in the Shelf."

Natasha muttered, looking off to the side.

"Or you could stop babying and let the kid be a hero. He's got the neighborhood under control, I hear."

Tony whipped his gaze towards Natasha, a look of betrayal on his face, and Natasha stared right back. Tony huffed and gave Bucky a harsh look.

"Fine. I'll have Underoos come here, but you're responsible if something happens. Do you understand?"

Bucky nodded, and Tony muttered to himself.

"I'm going to regret this somehow. I know it. Let's just get everyone suited up."

Tony stalked off, and Natasha patted Bucky's arm, making him slightly recoil and give her an unamused look as she walked by.

"Nice thinking on your end."

Bucky grumbled to himself, and Steve asked Bucky with a gentle voice and kind expression.

"You gonna be okay?"

"As much as I wanna kick Rollins' face in, I wouldn't be any help to the team. I'll lose control if I see him...so it's best that I stay here."

Steve nodded before he embraced the man, Bucky tensing slightly before awkwardly hugging the man back.

"I'll keep you updated and let you know if I find anything. First thing."

Bucky nodded, and Steve saluted Bucky with a shit-eating grin before walking off. When Bucky was finally alone, his shoulders dropped, an exhausted look coming across his face before he sat down next to the soldier.

(Y/n) (L/n) looked peaceful. There was no pain, no indication of dreams or nightmares, and she looked even younger without the fear and anger on her face. Despite the horrific scars that lined the bottom half of her face and the grease within her hair and the oil on her skin, Bucky had to think that she was pretty.

'You were right...she is pretty.'

-

STORY NOTES: Steve and Clint have arrived back in Wakanda. Despite the success of their mission, they come back to Natasha warning them that Tony is not in a very good mood after he and Shuri successfully took the chip apart and identified the creator, who is revealed to be Robert (L/n). Tony asks Steve if he ever feels as though he is being haunted, which Steve replies accordingly.

Steve then gives the file containing information about the soldier and her father, and Tony becomes upset and walks out of the lab. Bucky is elated that Steve was able to find out who the soldier was, and when Bucky is finally able to know her name, he is perturbed by a feeling of familiarity from it. He asks what was wrong with Tony, and Shuri goes into depth about the history Robert and Howard Stark had together, as well as (Y/n)'s mother and Maria Stark.

Clint is confused by Robert playing a double agent while another HYDRA agent attempted to steal the serum, which Natasha explains that 'if the attention isn't on you, you can get a lot more done,' implying that Heinz was just a useful distraction. Steve asks how (Y/n) was able to be turned into a super soldier, and Natasha theorizes that Robert had used blood samples to test the serum with, and (Y/n) was the only match out of all his experiments.

After a few more minutes of discussion and Bucky is left alone with Steve, Shuri, and (Y/n). Steve attempts to comfort Bucky, reassuring him that they had been able to find her, but Bucky does not agree that she is completely saved yet. He reveals that he is still bothered by the soldier knowing about Meltzer Woods, and Steve suggests that it is a coincidence.

Tony enters the lab, and though he is uncomfortable, he reflects on the advice his therapist has given him about being more open to vulnerability and depending on others. He begins to reveal the way he is feeling to Steve and Bucky and how he is angry at his father for being apart of Project Rebirth while knowing how dangerous the work he was doing was. While Steve comforts Tony, Tony is too upset to understand what Steve is saying. Bucky offers comforting words as well, and Tony is unable to reply.

Instead, Tony begins to talk about Rollins and the main signal for the chip. The signal is traced to Fez, Morocco, and Bucky jumps the gun, wanting to leave. However, Tony refutes Bucky's thinking, stating that the Avengers need to be smart about this mission. Tony theorizes that Jack Rollins might already know that the Avengers know about the chip. Instead, he has FRIDAY bring up a list of known HYDRA bases that were mentioned or alluded to in the data they had recovered.

FRIDAY indicates that Rollins could have planted the main communicator since there is no known HYDRA activity at all within Fez, and Natasha agrees that it was a smart move. Natasha then suggests that the Avengers split into teams to go to or stay in each respective location (Swiss Alps, Himalayas, Antarctica, and Wakanda). She suggests that T'Challa, Shuri, and Bucky stay in Wakanda; Tony, Peter Parker, and Bruce Banner go to Antarctica; Clint, Wanda Maximoff, and Her go to the Swiss Alps; Steve, Thor Odinson, and Sam Wilson go to the Himalayas.

Tony immediately refutes involving Peter Parker because he is just a kid, but Steve and Natasha both tell him to stop 'babying' him and let him be an Avenger. Bucky decides to alleviate the issue by suggesting letting Peter come to Wakanda since he could be a big help, and Tony relents, making sure to tell Bucky that if something happens to Peter, he would be responsible. After a bit of conversation with Steve, everyone begins to gear up, and Bucky is left alone with the soldier. He begins to think that despite the scars and unwashed hair and skin, the soldier was right that the woman she had seen, (Y/n) (L/n), was pretty. End scene.

TRANSLATIONS:

None

TAGLIST: @tilldeathripsusapart @vicmc624 @mgchaser @aash3 @samfunko @seventeen-x @valckenaux @babybeeelle @sc4rrc @cjand10

[ripstefano]

"Vous ne les laisserez pas passer (You shall not let them pass)!"

French General Robert Nivelle

At the start of WWI, the French army wore bright blue jackets and red trousers, a tradition that dated back to the 19th century. These vibrant colors made soldiers easy targets, and the uniforms quickly proved impractical for modern warfare. In response, by 1915, the French military introduced the "horizon blue" uniform—a more muted, gray-blue color intended to blend in with the environment. This change marked a shift towards practicality and camouflage, with additional modifications, such as steel Adrian helmets replacing cloth caps, to better protect soldiers in trench warfare. Less drip, more practicality; I tried to include a uniform from each year.

From The French Army 1914–18

[daily-ron-fnf]

Day 361

( @robert-modification and @bob-no-escape-ask )

[memelordotherblog]

Almost Done with Talespin and so far this Is what I imagine a conversation would go if all the main villains were trapped together would more or less be the godfather conversation with a few modifications

Spigot: Well, since we are all going die here, I have one more thing to confess, I did not enjoy the Hogfather.

Dunder: What?

Spigot: Didn’t care for the Hogfather

Don: How dare you slander the great and wonderful Hogfather - that is almost as great and wonderful as myself!

Spidot: I Didn’t, Didn’t like it.

Moe: You're more idiotic than my goons! It the perfect movie you hardheaded-

Spigot: This is what eveyone always outside my great country says. Whenever they say, it's like, "Oh my..." Everyone always says

Don: Robert De Nightngale,Al Panda. I mean, you never gaze— ROBERT DUCKVALL!

Spigot: I'm aware . He's a Fine, fine actor. Did not like the movie, back me up here, Dunder!

Dunder: Ehh- ohh geez, well what do you think, Mr. Shere Khan? You been rather quiet.

Khan: No comment.

Dunder: Bu-

Khan: Must I repeat myself?

Dunder: ...Anyhow, why don't you like the movie sir?

Spigot: I simply couldn't get into it.

Don: Explain yourself now before I cut your body into itty-bitty pieces!

Spigot: It's insistence upon itself, Don Karnage.

Don: WHAT?!!

Moe: You stupid! It has a point to show! It's insistent!

Spigot: It takes forever to watch, and you sit for six and a half hours, and I can't even get through daam the movie. I've never even seen the ending.

Don: You never- what!

Dunder: Well, with all due respect, sir, how can you say you don't like it if you haven't even given it a chance?

Moe: I agree with the big guy! It's brainless!

Spigot: I given this movie three chances, but I always stop at that one scene where all the mob are sitting around in the chairs-

Don: Indeed, a great scene, that is, I love that scene.

Spigot: No, that is not a great-

Moe: It feels like the the real deal

Spigot: I have no idea what they're talking about! It almost like they are speaking a different language! That's where I lose interest and I go away.

Don: You know what, little pig thin-

Moe: THEY'RE SPEAKI' ITALIAN, HALFWIT!

Don: Subtlety is the language they speak in , something you don't understand.

Spigot: I like the new Barbie movie. That is my answer to that statement.

Moe: Pfft Typical.

Spigot: Shut it!

Don: Oh, you make me so angry!

Dander: ...I like that movie too, sir.

[melis-writes]

(2024) My current collection of Al Pacino Merch! ❤️

You can check out my Godfather merch collection here!

I adore the Taschen "Movie Icons" books and was so lucky to be able to get my hands on not only Al's, but Marlon Brando and Robert De Niro as well. 🥺❤️ I bought these from an online used bookstore in Turkey from their previous owners in 2021.

I've bought all of my movie posters in this post from local online retailers in Turkey.

My prized Michael Corleone 1:6 figurine! 🥺🖤 I got him from Aliexpress, but he certainly did not look like this because his face/head was different and he was wearing a blue suit (that he never wore in any movie ever). If I didn't modify Michael, he would have been about $350 CAD or so. He looked like this before:

I put together about $100 CAD of modifications on him to get a new had, new hands and a new suit and he looks like this now!

My Scarface Collectors Edition! I absolutely love the crocodile skin embossing on the box.

Everything is just as visual and luxurious inside!

I have Al on some of my Godfather phone cases as well!

The Films of Al Pacino is probably one of the rarest books I have on Al with such incredibly, full glossy photos inside. I got a remaining copy off of Amazon (Canada).

A Tony Montana funko because why not?! 🥺 I bought this off of a private seller on Ebay.

I also have the Scarface "the world is yours" statue figurine as well! This was off Temu actually lmfao.

Some amazing and gorgeous stickers of Al himself ❤️

Al as Michael Corleone in The Godfather Part II as a phone case. 🤭

Hands down my favourite movie poster of The Godfather Part II.

A custom made Al Pacino mug amidst so much more Al Pacino... This was created and gifted to me in 2021 by my best friend.

From left to right, top to bottom I got these amazing shirts in/at: Aliexpress in 2022, La Maison Simons (Canada) in 2023, and the last two Tony Montana shirts from Spencer's in 2024!

And last but not least, the most recent and relevant is Al's autobiography, Sonny Boy, that I got on the date of release!

Will reblog with any new additions coming forward! 🤭❤️

[enarei]

Although the prevention of transsexualism was not contentious to researchers, with the rise of the gay rights movement and the removal of homosexuality from the DSM in 1974, the modification of effeminacy in young boys was criticized in the media as a form of “conversion therapy” for gay youth (Rorvik, 1975). Clinicians, most of them cisgender men, particularly focused their research on feminine behaviors in children assigned male at birth. For instance, psychiatrist Robert Stoller published in 1970 that the ideal goal of treatment was to “shift the boy to the same degree of masculinity we like to see in any boy (forgive the vagueness). But we would consider any masculine development as an improvement” (Stoller, 1970, p. 280). The “most successful case” might be a “moderately feminine but rather heterosexual man,” a “less successful” case might have “some permanent sense of masculinity,” perhaps a “homosexual man;” this, he wrote, was a “far happier outcome” than adult transsexualism (Stoller, 1970, p. 280). Richard Green stated that “Had these boys been on the road to exclusive homosexuality, treatment could increase opportunities (and capacity) for bisexuality, exclusive heterosexuality, or less feminine-appearing homosexuality”

there we go. the most naked depiction of why transmisogyny/anti-effeminacy matters as a tangible form of bigotry distinct from plain trans/homophobia

[chiprewington]

I know that Chip has several mods, but are any of them (besides the override i guess) from after he joined C.O.G.S. ink?

Teeeechnically this is part of the Override, but I think it still deserves to be mentioned.

His little light system is attached to his skull, but you'd never know unless you looked under his hat. In a twisted sort of way, you can consider it a punishment he received for refusing to take his hat off- the sockets that hold the bulbs were made bigger than the holes they go through.

That aside, its a modification forced onto him in order for those "in the know" (intended to exclusively be certain individuals- Robert, Craig, the maintenance crew) to know whether or not the Override is active. The bulbs aren't the Override itself, mind you- they are only an indication and nothing else. They're a bit discomforting to touch, and breaking them is incredibly painful. At least they can be unscrewed from the sockets so he can lay on his side. ...Or to easily replace broken ones.

[ao3feed-brucewayne]

A Batted Batman

by Nebulablu Batman has been missing for a week, visible through the lack of new criminals cradling broken bones. With the discovery of a new big criminal calling himself Professor Pyg who either wears a pig mask or has a pig face, Jim decides to investigate. Words: 1684, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types, The Batman (Movie 2022) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: Gen Characters: Officer Martinez (The Batman Movie 2022), Bruce Wayne, Jim Gordon (DCU), Dick Grayson Relationships: Jim Gordon & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Jim Gordon & Officer Martinez (The Batman Movie 2022) Additional Tags: POV Jim Gordon (DCU), Inspired by Fanart, Inspired by Tumblr, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Blood, Dick Grayson is Robin, Bruce Wayne is Batman, Bruce Wayne is Bad at Communicating, Bruce Wayne Needs a Hug, Hurt Bruce Wayne, Wings, Winged Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Dick Grayson is a Ray of Sunshine, Dick Grayson Has Issues, Dick Grayson Has Abandonment Issues, Soft Jim Gordon, Protective Jim Gordon (DCU), Supportive Jim Gordon (DCU), Batman Played by Robert Pattinson via https://ift.tt/gUSjYNH

[sharpened--edges]

The tension between liberal declarations of victory over racism and the real lived experience of Black people in America exploded into full contradiction with the [1965] Watts Uprising in LA. […] What followed was six days of “insurrection against all authority,” as the local CBS radio station reported it. “If it had gone much further,” the news report said, “it would have become civil war.” More than 950 buildings were damaged, and 260 were totally destroyed. Looting and property destruction amounted to over $40 million in damages — nearly $330 million today adjusted for inflation. But the destruction was hardly wanton or senseless. Almost no homes, schools, libraries, churches, or public buildings were even partially damaged. The use of arson was strategic and controlled. The majority of Black-owned businesses were not looted, nor were those businesses that were seen as dealing fairly with the community. Signs went up saying “Black-owned” or “soul brother” and the like, which would (usually) protect a shop from rioters. On the other hand, businesses that had traditionally exploited people, in particular pawnshops, check-cashing stores, and department stores that operated aggressively on credit, went up in flames. Credit records were usually destroyed before anything else took place. Brave rioters even made attacks on police stations; one was set alight. The tactics were simple but effective, as Gerald Horne records in his important history of the Watts Uprising, Fire This Time. One common tactic saw a group of rioters, usually young men, drive up to a business, hop out, break out the windows, then drive away. Then cars of looters, a much more mixed group, split between men and women, young and old, would arrive and work to empty the store. The store would only be set alight once credit records had been destroyed and goods had been fully looted. Rioters usually remained nearby to make sure the building burned, attacking firemen with bricks and bottles if they tried to put out the flames before the fire had fully consumed the hated business. Tactics reflected effective communication and mobility among the rebels. Rioters transmitted information over the radio waves, used payphones to spread intel, and listened in to police broadcasts to see where cops would be deployed. False reports were called in to send police scrambling, at which point areas they’d just “pacified” could be re-taken. In areas they didn’t entirely control, rioters focused on hit-and-run strikes, then dispersing quickly to reappear elsewhere. All of these tactics would be adopted and practiced, with local modifications, in other riots throughout the period. The media described these as guerilla tactics, and police and reactionaries compared the situation in Watts to fighting the Viet Cong or the Mau Mau of Kenya. Rioters often appreciated the comparison: many, encouraged by the thought of Malcolm X, Revolutionary Action Movement (RAM), Robert F. Williams, and local militants, understood their actions as guerilla warfare, too. Other rioters tied their actions to anticolonial struggle via resistance to imperialist war. Many men of draft age interviewed afterward said something very similar to what one rioter told SNCC newspaper The Movement: “I’d rather die here than in Vietnam.”

Vicky Osterweil, In Defense of Looting: A Riotous History of Uncivil Action (Bold Type, 2020), pp. 196–8.

[monkeyssalad-blog]

260 Dodge WC51 Three Quarter Ton Truck (1957) CSK 824 by Robert Knight Via Flickr: Dodge WC51 Three Quater Ton Truck (1957) Engine 3900cc U.S. Army stencil number : 2817823. Registration Number CSK 824 ( SK was allocated to Caithness but only ASK was used for the region, BSK-YSK xxx are all regionless re-reg series for pre-1963 vehicles.) DODGE ALBUM www.flickr.com/photos/45676495@N05/sets/72157623789157832... The Dodge WC series (nicknamed Beeps) is a prolific range of light 4WD and medium 6WD military utility trucks, produced by Chrysler under the Dodge and Fargo marques during World War II Contrary to the versatility of the highly standardized jeep, which was mostly achieved through field modification, the Dodge WC‑series came in many different, purpose-built, but mechanically uniform variants from the factory. The WC series evolved out of, and was part of a more extended family of trucks, with great mechanical parts commonality, that included open- and closed-cab cargo, troops and weapons carriers, (radio) command, and reconnaissance cars, ambulances, carry-alls, panel vans, and mobile telephone installation and (emergency) field workshop trucks. essentially built in two generations. From 1940 to early 1942, almost 82,400 of the 1⁄2‑ton 4x4 Dodge trucks were built — initially called the VC series, but the great majority, from 1941, in the WC series, With the most prolific of the many WCs being the 3⁄4-ton, 4×4, WC-51 and WC-52 Weapons Carriers All in all, not counting mechanically related variants, the WC series alone involved 52 model versions (thirty 1⁄2‑ton 4×4, eight 1⁄2‑ton 4×2, twelve 3⁄4‑ton 4×4, and two 11⁄2‑ton 6×6 models). Creating vehicles of a common platform in such a variety of designs, with payloads ranging from 1⁄2‑ton to 11⁄2‑tons, had no equal in its time, and is seen as an extraordinary feat of the WWII American auto industry Diolch am 87,419,630 o olygfeydd anhygoel, mae pob un yn 90cael ei werthfawrogi'n fawr. Thanks for 87,419,630 amazing views, every one is greatly appreciated. Shot 12.09.2021 at Cars in the Park, Lichfield Ref. 121-260

[meraki-yao]

Taylor Nick Variant Universe Brain Rot Part 2

Remember this? When I went unhinged and started coming up with an iPartment-inspired Taylor/Nick characters crossover rom-com universe???

WELL I GOT AROUND WORLD BUILDING, BUT I KIND OF NEED SOME HELP/INPUT

And yes I handwrote my ideas on paper that is my real handwriting I just think better when I write physically

So three parts:

Part 1: Family Relations

Explanation:

I made some of the characters relatives because of convenience and because it was fun

Henry's family follows the movie version, so Henry's surname is Hanover-Stuart Fox

Both the King from RWRB and the King from M&G are named James lol (the former James III of the UK; the latter James I&VI of England and Scotland), both bear the name Stuart but it's fucking weird for brothers to have the same name so I made Hanover-Stuart a joint surname only for Catherine and her children: Henry's Grandfather is a Hanover, Henry's Grandmother is a Stuart, George's lover/sugar daddy is Henry's Grandmother's younger brother

Robert (Cinderella; Nick) is from a (trashy) musical theatre movie and since Arthur Fox is an actor, I gave him a stage actress sister who's Robert's mother: Henry and Robert are cousins

During the pillow talk scene in RWRB Alex mentioned his father has a sister so I made said sister Marco's (The Kissing Booth; Taylor) mother: Alex and Marco are cousins

Part 2: Jobs/Studies

Explanation

Alex and Henry are what they are

At the end of KB3 Marco said he wanted to go to New York and become a musician so yeah

Robert is from a musical so might as well make that his study

Being a sugar baby is the best way I can translate George's situation into a modern setting

Henry's parents are as they are, with the modification that Catherine is a professor at Oxford

Oscar Diaz is as he is

Arthur's sister/Robert's mother is a stage actress

Questions/Input/Help Please

What music school in New York can Marco go to? I only know Julliard but it seems a little too unrealistic

I don't know how the American government system so if Ellen isn't president what position can I put her in? Senator too? Or something else?

What job works for Henry's grandfather and James Stuart? Does old money work? What's a modern substitute for a monarch?

George was historically a really good dancer and we're gonna see that in M&G, does it make sense to translate that into a club dancer or something? I ask as someone who has never in her life gone to a club

Part 3: Living Arrangements

Explanation:

I want them to be roommates? The fic and the show that inspired this idea was the characters living in two neighbouring apartments: 1 with 4 residents and 1 with 3 residents

I kind of want to start with all of Nick's characters in one apartment and all of Taylor's in another, then maybe mix it up as relationships develop

So for the 4-person apartment right now I have Henry and Robert

For the 2 or 3-person apartment I have Alex and Marco

George, as a sugar baby, has James giving him a luxurious loft where he lives on his own

Question:

I... don't really know how apartments in New York/ the states work? My understanding of an apartment is like one complex with a living room, dining room, bedrooms, kitchen and washrooms, and one floor of one building has a couple of those for each floor. Is the States the same? 'Cause yall live in houses and we don't really have that here? The building my apartment is in has 42 floors and each floor has 8 apartments.

Suggestion for roommates for each apartment? I need 2 Nick characters and 1 Taylor character who would be reasonable enough to share a new York flat with college students

Final Question:

Suggestion for a name for this universe/fic?

Tagging @luainthewild @henryfoxisgenderqueerandautistic