#Diesel the Greaser

[engineer-gunzelpunk]

Calling All Engines: I only saw this after I posted my first version:

So I had to do a second version hahahahaha!

[electricfied-wolf]

My head is hurting but I am still thinking about him (My version of Greaseball from Starlight Express)

[theoutsiderslove]

Helping and Loving

Darry Curtis x Fem! Reader Tags: Angsty-ish. References of violence. Financial issues. Darry is stressed. Word Count: 2.3k “If you really don’t mind…that’d be great,"

“Darry, why don’t you come to bed?” You called with a calming, sweet voice.

Darry was listening, but he didn’t pay any attention to your suggestion. His back was turned to you from where he stood at the tattered dresser in his bedroom.

He had a basket of dry clothes that he was working on folding and putting away, but his stewing was more obvious than anything.

“He just doesn’t ever think,” Darry grumbled, his head shaking in irritation. “He’s always got his head stuck somewhere else.”

He was talking about Ponyboy, of course. The only person in the world that Darry could get so sore and annoyed with was his youngest brother.

It had been a stressful day for Darry. Work was exhausting and he received a notice for being behind on the electricity bill again this month. Darry had mentioned to you that money was tighter than usual right now.

Soda was picking up extra hours at the DX to make up for it, considering that he had more time to spend now that he had dropped out of school. Darry was taking on more roofing jobs and spending extra time bookkeeping for the company.

He already had a lot on his plate, and today had only made it heavier.

Tensions between Greasers and Socs had been higher lately. Socs were getting too comfortable stepping outside of their side of town, harassing and assaulting any Greaser they could get their hands on.

All Ponyboy did was walk home from the movies. For weeks, all he talked about was the new Paul Newman film coming out.

He wanted to be one of the first ones to see it, since he anticipated it for weeks.

Getting jumped by a group of Socs definitely put a damper on his afternoon, his screams and cries as proof to it. The gang was quick to his rescue and Ponyboy was relatively unharmed...but it had scared Darry something awful.

You hadn't been there when it happened, but when you showed up to the Curtis' home around dinnertime, you knew that something wasn't right.

Darry was quiet all through dinner. Sodapop did his best to crack jokes and start up conversation, but the energy between his older and younger brother was too much to break through.

You really knew something was wrong when Ponyboy couldn't have cared less about answering your questions about the Paul Newman film that was fresh on his mind. You made a mental note to ask him about it later when things cooled off, because you really wanted to know all about it.

Ponyboy finished up his homework in his bedroom after dinner, Sodapop retreating to the shower to rinse himself of whatever traces of diesel and gasoline might've been lingering on him.

That left you and Darry with the dishes, where he told you all about the day's events...not leaving out a single detail.

After homework was finished and everybody was cleaned up, bedtime called and the house was put to rest for the night.

Darry, however, was still fired up.

You had been in bed for at least an hour now, but Darry was pacing the room and was basically beating up his poor laundry.

Darry wasn't really angry. His way of expressing concern could come off as aggressive. You knew this from experience and from understanding him, which was the only reason you were keeping your cool with him for being so harsh.

“He knows better than to walk anywhere alone. Especially after what happened to Johnny,” Darry sighed a harsh exhale of air. “He could’ve at least been carryin’ a blade.”

There was a sudden urge to defend Ponyboy within your heart. In these moments where Darry was at odds with one of his brothers, you tended to not to take sides. Most of the time, you could see clearly from both points of view.

But Darry scolding Ponyboy for not having a knife on him was unfair, because you knew what Darry would’ve said if he had.

“You would’ve gotten on to him if he had been carrying one,” You pointed out, and Darry sighed again. “And he shouldn’t have to watch over his shoulder just walking home from the movies.”

Darry didn’t say anything. He continued to fold his clothes and all but slam them into the drawer.

“Darry,” You said sternly. “He’s alright. That’s what matters.”

Darry’s hands stopped fidgeting with the gray t-shirt that he was close to creating a permanent crease in. His head lowered with defeat and the knowledge that you were right.

There was no sense in fretting over it now. He hoped that Ponyboy would be more careful after this. He could at least feel somewhat better that Pony was planning on spending his Saturday with Dallas and Johnny.

Actually, that didn't make him feel all that comfortable.

“Yeah. I know.” He set the t-shirt inside and closed the drawer.

Darry was trying his best, and he often felt like his best wasn't good enough. He didn't know how to raise and take care of a 17 and 14 year old. He already had so much to worry about.

He supposed he could add "being worried about his little brother getting beat to a pulp" to the list.

You couldn't see his face, but you didn't need to see his expression to know what he was thinking. He wore his stress and he showed the weight on his shoulders physically. You could see the anxiety and the strain from a mile away.

"Hey," You said to get his attention. His head raised and he turned at the sound of your voice that called to his heart in the most beautiful way. "Come here."

Oh, he looked so tired.

His eyes were glazed over and the dark circles under his eyes had gotten so much worse lately. He couldn't take much more of this. Darry was strong and capable, but even the strongest and most capable had a limit.

His limit was being pushed like never before.

You always let him know when you were concerned. Over and over again you had reminded him that you were there for him in any way. Oftentimes, he felt insanely upset for making you troubled.

Ironically, he felt stressed that you were stressed about him being stressed.

You tried not to show your concern too much, simply just to keep him from feeling so bad.

But when he looked into your pleading eyes that were looking at him so intently, he knew you were worried. The desire to comfort him was written all over your face. The least he could do was give in to your needs.

After all, he could lay the events of the day to rest and start over tomorrow.

His steps were heavy and slow as he approached his side of the bed. A soft bed and his favorite girl appealed to him far more than manhandling his laundry. His strong, superman frame slid into bed, a quiet groan escaping his chest at the feeling of the mattress offering his muscles and bones so much relief.

You turned off the lamp on the table next to you, sending the room into darkness. The only light came from the moon in the sky outside and the street lamps on the road. Together, they offered just enough light so that you could make out his face and features.

His eyes fluttered closed, but he wasn't asleep. No matter how tired he was or how downhearted he felt, he never went to sleep without chatting with you for at least a few minutes.

"Didn't even ask about your day," Darry's brows raised in regret. "I'm sorry."

His legs intertwined with yours, his arm snaking around your waist. His hand rested on your lower back and rubbed in soothing, gentle circles.

"It's okay. I worked the breakfast and lunch shift. Nothing special." You shrugged, taking one of his large hands into yours and fiddling with his fingers playfully.

Darry's eyebrows went from apologetic to confused. It was funny talking to Darry when he was half asleep because his expressions still changed accordingly.

"You did that one day last week. Are you workin' double shifts now?" He asked.

"Just once a week. I'm hoping the extra cash will help me out."

Darry almost laughed. He understood that better than anybody.

A few moments of silence passed. Darry was enjoying having you here and so close to him. His sleep would still be restless, but it made him feel better to know that the three most important people in his life were all together, safe, and accounted for.

He felt somewhat at ease, and if he could go to bed in a halfway relaxed state, then that was a good end to the day.

But he wasn't surprised when you brought up the previous conversation.

"Pony loves you a lot, you know. He wants to make you proud," You placed a stray set of hairs back with the rest. "He looks up to you."

"You sound like Sodapop," He grumbled, his closed eyes twitching once. "Always stickin' up for the kid brother."

"That's not true," You responded with a soft voice. "I just understand what both of you are feeling. Seeing the two of you so at odds is hard."

Darry only sighed. This wasn't the first time that you had brought this up to him. He knew that you were only trying to help, and he appreciated it endlessly.

He was thankful that you were so understanding with the obstacles that came between the two of you. Those obstacles often had nothing to do with your relationship, but Darry had to juggle so much that it was inevitable that some of it would creep its way in.

Darry couldn't understand how you were so patient. How you could put up with him -- a guy who rarely had enough time for you and was always giving the majority of his attention to his brothers -- was a mystery to him.

Whatever the answer was, he was forever thankful for it.

“I’m working the dinner shift for the next several days,” You said. “How about I take Pony to school on Monday? That way he can sleep in — and I’ll make sure he gets fed and to school on time.”

His eyelids shot open. The frustration and hardness from before in Darry’s eyes faded into something softer. It was a cross between love and adoration…with a sprinkle of guilt.

“You don’t have to do that.” Darry sighed, his heart sinking but also swelling at the thought of you helping take care of his brothers.

The last thing Darry wanted was for you to feel obligated to help out with Sodapop and Ponyboy just because it was such a priority for him. Darry never wanted to make his duties become yours.

Even the little things like washing the dishes after dinner or helping Ponyboy with his homework made Darry feel like he was bestowing responsibilities upon you that you didn’t ask for.

You always offered to do these things or just did them because you wanted to. Darry’s biggest fear was that you would feel like the only way to earn his affection was through picking up the slack that he fell behind on.

“I really don’t mind,” You smiled. “Besides, if I’m going to stay here all the time, the least I can do is help out.”

Darry knew that all of these little chores that you helped out with did take pressure off of him. The smallest of tasks really made a big difference at the end of the day.

“It’d be a huge help, but…I don’t know…” He held the back of his neck, hesitant to give in to your offer.

“Darry, I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t want to,” You rested a warm hand on his cheek. “I’ll take him to the diner for breakfast. He loves the pancakes.”

Pancakes. Darry could’ve teared up. Not only were you going out of your way to get him to school on time, you were going even further out of your way to feed him a breakfast that he loved…and also one that he didn’t get to have very often.

In many ways, lending a hand around the house and taking care of the boys was because you loved Darry.

Loving Sodapop and Ponyboy as your own? That was loving Darry. Washing dishes after dinner and hanging wet clothes on the clothesline — that was loving Darry too. Driving Ponyboy to school and letting him pig out on chocolate chip pancakes…was most definitely loving Darry.

“If you really don’t mind…that’d be great," He nodded, eyes closing again. "I know Pony would really dig that."

"Good," You brought the palm of his hand to your lips. "And I don't want you feeling guilty over it."

He couldn't help but chuckle, a genuine smile spreading on his face.

"Alright. I'll try." He agreed.

He chuckled again when you pressed a kiss to the tip of his nose, his grip tightening around you slightly and bringing you closer to him. He caught your lips in a kiss this time, humming with content at the feeling of your smile underneath.

He couldn't help but think about how lucky he was. A woman as wonderful as you, working double shifts and taking on extra responsibilities and yet you still made time for him.

He had a lot of time to make up to you. He owed you a date night if nothing else, and even then, that wasn't really repaying you at all.

But for now, the best he could do was be here and be in the moment. If kissing you and keeping you close was making you happy, then that was the least he could do.

He didn't stray far from you for the rest of the night. The two of you slept closely, sharing kisses and soft hums throughout the night whenever you stirred one another awake.

This was something that Darry wished for. And perhaps one day, he could have this all the time. Not today, but maybe someday.

And he couldn't wait for that day to come.

[androgynealienfemme]

" March 20, 1991 Dear Joan: The spirit moves: 1950. For those who do not remember 1950, let me set the stage: television existed and I had seen it on display in a store but didn't know anyone who owned one. Sex existed, but no one talked about it, except in euphemisms: she's "that way" or "you know" meant a woman was pregnant; she "does things" meant she had sex; she "does things to other girls" meant she was gay. The word homosexual was used only in newspapers in "were-arrested" stories, all of which referred to men.

I was never called a lesbian. We were "queers" or "perverts" or the worst group-you-wouldn't-want-to-be-caught-dead-with: "dykes." And we were also arrested, but it never made the papers- I guess because it was so ordinary, not newsworthy.

The word butch was used to describe mannish behavior. She walks butch, she thinks butch, she looks butch, but I do not recall she is a butch. A tough-acting woman in man's clothes was called a butch diesel. I desperately wanted to be a butch diesel.

This would be a great accomplishment for a sixteen-year-old suburban kid, cruising weekends in the village. I had been in "the life" on the streets- it wasn't enough. I wanted to go into the butch diesels bars, to be accepted as one of them. They were tough, cocky, sure of themselves. They intimidated by their very existence. And they never ended up in a cage at the Country Club (the Women's House of Detention, located in the heart of the Village), never fell victim to street sweeps. They were cool! How to start... For openers, I took the bus to New York wearing a skirt and blouse and carrying a purse containing a hip flask of stale beer, a nice fitting man's shirt, and a pair of men's slacks, liberated from my half brother. The bus station- then about half a block east of the south end of Times Square, before the Port Authority Terminal was built- was a stinking hole, but it did have rental lockers and an alley nearby.

I changed into the boy clothes in the alley, plastered my pageboy girl hair back into a decent DA (duck's ass, dear children: it came to a pointed line down the back of the head- very popular with greasers), and jammed the flask into one back pocket. No wallet; loose money went into the right front pocket. Then I put the girl clothes and purse in the locker and viola- instant freedom to walk the streets literally unmolested.

Understand: boys and men could walk the streets- just walk, not solicit or what have you, just plain be on the streets at night- and no one would challenge them. But a girl or woman alone had to be a hooker or lost and in need of protection. This was handy if one was working the streets but of no use at all if one wanted to be accepted as a butch diesel and not just a street kid.

I had already found the bar to be entered. I had been shown it by a street friend who was highly amused that I did not at first believe that the "men" entering were really women. You couldn't tell unless you heard them talk, and even then sometimes I wasn't sure. I had finally accepted the truth and had watched them go in, alone or with snazzily dressed women. But I had never dared enter; it was out of my league. Well, no longer- I was ready!

So in I went. All conversations stopped, all eyes upon me. This was standard whenever any stranger entered a gay bar in those days. The darkness of the bars allowed those inside to see the person entering before his or her eyes adjusted to see them. If you passed muster, if the patrons concluded you were not a vice cop or a known troublemaker, conversation would start again.

Which is not to say you would be accepted. No, you would be ignored, watched, tentatively approached if... But first, the pin-drop silence. Oh Lord, the agony of waiting to see if they would accept me! And then, finally, the silence was broken: "Oh my god, Millie," someone said, "It's Prince Valiant!"

And everyone roared with laughter, and I knew, I knew... My hand reached up to find that my baby-fine hair had shed the beer glop and had drifted down and forward to hang limply about my ears. I reached for the flask then realized it was too late. What would I do with it? Pour it on my head? I just held it on the table, too numb to move, too embarrassed to speak or even lift my head.

The eternity ended when the waitress asked if I wanted something to eat. Every gay bar I recall in those days was nominally a cafe, so they had to serve food (hamburgers, fries) and especially if you were not known, you had to order whatever overpriced inedible food they offered. Then you would be asked if you wanted anything to drink with it. I knew about that game from other bars, but still speechless, I only nodded.

I would love to say, "And then everyone came over and said, 'Welcome.,' and we all lived happily ever after." It didn't happen. I ate the burger, left the fries, and split. Then they spoke: "Good night, sweet prince..." "A valiant effort..."

I never went back. I don't recall the name of the place or where it was. It wasn't Fleur de Lys, Page Three, Swing Rendezvous, any place that I knew afterwards. It was much smaller, just a hole in the wall. I never got to be a butch diesel, just butch, then a butch. And good for a laugh, always...

Judy"

"A Letter" by Judy Lederer, The Persistent Desire: A Butch Femme Reader, edited by Joan Nestle (1992)

[conniemb]

I've always wondered what kind of aesthetic would blood bowl be apart of and thanks to Tumblr I finally know it's Dieselpunk! No one's specifically like said it but I think it's pretty obvious when you step back and take a look at the universe. Set in medieval fantasy times but there's a huge use of engine powered machinery that clearly uses some kind of oil which could be diesel. You've got the chainsaw loonies and other goblin secret weapons and even if you wanna go further back there's the star player Greaser Geargrinder and though he's described as a "cyber orc" I'd like to stretch a bit and say those greasy legs of his are diesel powered cuz it'd make more sense than some kind of far future technology given the setting. You could probably even say the Dwarf Deathroller would kind of fit in? Sure the universe doesn't have so much of the dark and dreary grimdark as most Dieselpunk settings would have but with it being a theme of black comedy I feel like it still fits in pretty nicely to the vibes. Anyways thanks for coming to my ted talk.

[suppenzeit]

One (1) fave costume and one (1) least fave costume? :)

ah jeez,, there are so many good ones...

but i think gb has been consistently Good for pretty much the entirety of stex so he can be a fave costume. it just always shown very clearly his entire deal. hes a diesel greaser elvis and thats all you need to know.

worst costume,, like most later tour costumes suck ass but thats an easy answer. the hoppers dont look like trains and fail to look cool.

im gonna say that the current rocky costumes.. kinda suck. the shorts are too long the "graffiti" is too samey and im just missing the early bochum costumes cause those slapped so hard

[goldenrod-station]

More humanized engines. Pls don't make diesel a greaser WAHH

Oh I have half done headshots of Bill and Ben that I wanna finish up djdnhd

ALSO DIESEL MY DETESTED I DONT NEEDA BE THINKIN' ABOUT HIM BEING A GREASER LIKE DJDNRJFN

WHAT A DWEEB

[hkpika07]

why does Diesel look like he about to pull off some kind of Michael Jackson dance

Because I interpreted his design as a cross between a 50s greaser and a 20s mobster. Also probably the fedora hsvrhevd

[yacht-skyran]

Winter Refit 2022-2023

Skyran was lifted out of the water on 3rd October 2022. We experimented with a cover, which worked well, although it suffered damage as time passed. But it took us through to February and gave us ideas for a permanent one.

We re-launched on 3rd April 2023.

Works done during the winter were as follows:

Running Rigging

Fitted mousing lines to run halyards etc fully inside spars and in bags to protect them from weather.

Mainsail furling line replaced.

Spinnaker pole track lines replaced.

Engine

Oil and filter change, fuel filters changed, impeller and belt changed, stern gland greaser re-packed.

Engine Seacock & Cooling Water Hose

Removed engine cooling water intake through hull, ball valve and strainer.

Cleaned strainer body and fitted new, bronze "Guidi" through hull and "Alex" non-stick gate valve, with original strainer.

Through hull installed bedded in 3M 4200FC compound, with valve/strainer assembly sealed to through hull using (weaker) Rectorseal Tru-Blue compound.

Replaced PVC cooling water hose from strainer to engine gearbox

Diesel Heaters

Removed air heater, stripped, cleaned and reassembled having replaced glow plug (due to failure).

Removed automotive style (and dangerous!) exhaust silencers from air and water heaters.

Installed new marine specification exhaust silencers.

Wrapped exhaust systems in fibreglass exhaust lagging.

Tidied-up some of the electrical wiring associated with air heater, shortening cables that were unnecessarily long.

Electrical

Installed new LED bulbs in all five bunkside lamps fittings and in all ten deckhead lamp fittings.

Hull and Propeller

Washed and wax-polished hull topside.

Antifouled skeg foot and p-bracket.

Serviced Blakes seacocks (strip, grease, reassemble).

Installed remote greasing points to two seacocks (nipples previously inaccessible due to cabinetry).

Greased propeller assembly.

Replaced fridge and freezer keel cooler anodes and screws.

Safety

Upgraded lifejackets to 4x Spinlock Deckvest type, with 3 best of older jackets kept for reserve.

Dinghy

Upgraded to 3hp (equivalent) electric outboard motor.

Repaired/reinforced dinghy storage bag.

Ground Tackle

Removed 20m DIN specification chain which did not fit windlass gypsy and replaced with 20m ISO specification chain.

Fitted Mantus anchor swivel connector.

[wrvvth]

Hi

[cesar-stmartin]

[obdurateessentials]

Photography to take note of #RatRod #RatRods #HotRods #Truck #Trucks #Semis #TractorTrailers #18Wheelers #Diesel #Chopped #Custom #Greaser #Rockabilly #BadAss #PhotographyToTakeNoteOf

[goblin-iz-whack]

What does Striker's costume look like/ whats his color scheme?

Well I imagine he has a similar color scheme to Gb but lighter, instead of gold and black he has yellows and orange.

He has the stereotypical blonde surfer hair but in recent years he’s got a few greys

His eyes are blue and may be getting a bit hard to see out of, he probably needs glasses

I saw GB w a headband and I decided to steal that element and give it to Striker because my hc look for GB has him w a bandana around his forehead and the headband fit Striker better in my opinion

He just has this whole tired look because pretty much raising GB will make you sleepy, he has bags under his eyes

Due to the whole no wheels thing he doesn’t do much yard work, so his plating and stuff isn’t very bulky and he has a lot less of it

He has a scar on his lip, it’s one of those scars where it cuts the lip so you can see the teeth underneath it. I was inspired by the movie “The Good Dinosaur” and decided to give him a few missing teeth under the scar and lodged in his gums is the tooth of the diesel that attacked him. This may sound strange but in my headcanons trains are fairly animalistic so yeah lol

He’s a tall lad, but cuz of the crutches he slouches a lot

He has a greaser feel to him but idk specifics

Since I don’t know how to draw it’s hard to visualize full designs for ocs or hc designs for canon chars so this is really all I have lmao

[thedailyflattop]

authentischenbarbier

Bon week-end à tous nos patrons ! Psychobilly Flattop graissé avec la pommade rose Reuzel #flattop #flattophaircut #psychobilly #psychobillyhaircut #psychobillystyle #fat #greaser #loud #diesel #men #fade #fadedbeard #haircut 

[mister-beetlejuice]

Day three of stex appreciation month, my favorite character, Greaseball! I experimented with my style a lil and I love the result! Questions answered below!

Favorite song he's in: Pumping Iron. I love the old rock and roll style!

Favorite actor: This is a hard one tbh? I really like Robert Torti's looks and costume, but the original Greaseball, Jeff Shankley, has the best voice for him in my opinion. I really like Rod Weber's portrayal of him too tho.

Favorite ship with him: Any combo of CB/Electra/Greaseball is my fave!

Favorite thing about him: I have suuuch a big thing for greasers, so I love how he has that kind of look to him. Also, I live directly next to train tracks that have a lot of union pacific diesels come through, so I have a bit of a soft spot for him since that's what he's based off of!

Random headcanon: He has a big sweet tooth! Even though he's super fit, he can't help himself around sweets. He's not too good at baking though. 😅

Unpopular opinion: I think he has a lot of potential to grow as a character and right his wrongs. There's more to him than just being a big mean jock.

[tawneybel]

Note: Top ten sexiest characters, part eleven. Almost forgot to make one of these. I passed eight hundred followers last month.  

10. HAL 9000 (Douglas Rain) from 2001: A Space Odyssey

It’s the voice. Stupid sexy corrupt A.I.

9. the Scorpion (Marc Senter) from The Devil’s Carnival 

Charismatic and manipulative greaser.

8. Richard B. Riddick (Vin Diesel) from Pitch Black

Badass and really crass.

7. Cam Johnson (Daniel Ryan Egan) from Mayhem, Murder, and Monsters

Why is the best Crypt TV character a cordial pretty boy and not one of their monsters?

6. Tommy Jarvis (Thom Matthews) from Friday the 13th Part VI: Jason Lives 

Jason came back to life because he was struck by lightning. Jason came out of his grave to grab that Jarvis b00ty.

5. Charles Brady (Brian Krause) from Sleepwalkers 

Step 1: Get Mrs. Brady out of the way. Step 2: Convince him to stop being a cherry hound. Step 3: Adopt a dog?

4. Alex Browning (Devon Sawa) from Final Destination 

Prettier than most final girls.

3. Hughie Campbell (Jack Quaid) from The Boys 

Does exactly what I’d want my boyfriend to do if I was the victim of (wo)manslaughter.

2. John Murphy (Richard Harmon) from The 100 

Has both the mortality and morality of a cockroach.

1. Bucky Barnes (Sebastian Stan) from Captain America: The Winter Soldier 

Brainwashed super soldiers can get it.

Note: Previous list. John Murphy is the best character. He’s just objectively better than everyone else on The 100. Also, slasher victims > slasher killers.