Lumberjack Feuilly who also whittles cute lil sculptures out of scrap wood in his spare time :3
lumberjack!feuilly on his lunch break sitting on one of the stumps and carefully cutting out what looks to be a swan from one of the pieces of wood that would have otherwise gone unused. spending great time in the details, especially on the wings that really exemplify the features and how they spread out. carving cats and dogs and sometimes things that he puts more effort into like wooden cars that need little axles and wheels. often taking them home with him to work on when he’s sitting on the sofa half asleep when the television isn’t offering anything he cares for
and they all get sent to the orphanages he knows downtown in bundles of tens or twenty they’re all painted and detailed and function perfectly and while they aren’t much compared to what you can buy in stores he knows what it’s like to have nothing and sometimes it’s things like this that make the difference and he wants to give them something to hold onto, that they can say without a doubt belongs to them
Steve and Bucky post apoc au before their settlement got attacked, just normal quiet weird life but also tense but yknow normal
“you remember it here?”
of course he does. bucky remembers this place before it was more than rubble and decay, before the whole world wasn’t some sort of barren wasteland of civilization rusting at the hinges. hell, he could still hear the music and the shouts of street vendors catering to the crowds and steve who always walked faster to keep up. there weren’t lights, no faces, just whatever was left of it.
“you really think i could forget?” bucky looks at steve next to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. he’s earnest in his words, or at least he tries to be, cracking a crooked smile. “smile at the dames as we walked by, making ourselves fancy every saturday to the boardwalk. trying to borrow cigars from the car hoppers — shit, you remember that tune they always played?”
steve leans back and bucky’s more than happy to keep him against him, minding the filtration system. he thinks with a squint, trying to remember exactly what he’s talking about until it finally clicks. he slows in his footsteps and bucky follows in suit as steve begins to hum.
“that’s the one!”
they stop on the edge of the street by the road that hasn’t had cars on it in years, staring at the carcass of the city side-by-side and bucky begins to hum with him.