i am in glove with you

99: “Calm down. I look a lot worse than I am.” (second prompt from the anon who asked for andreil! This is going to be exactly what you think it is :)))))

When Aaron’s ringtone bleats at Andrew from his jeans, he feels hyper-focus snap through him like the crack of latex gloves going on: skin-tight, hands about to get dirty.

He holds a finger up to Bee where she’s thumbing through her appointment notes, and flips his phone open, pressing it in snug to his ear.

“Andrew?” He hears, Aaron’s voice sounding stretched thin, his usual annoyance worn away in the middle.

“Aaron,” he replies, and Bee smiles in absent understanding, turning back to her work.

“Listen to everything I’m going to say before you hang up, okay?”

Andrew goes still. “Talk fast.”

“It’s Neil,” Aaron says, like his mouth is full of stinging bees. Andrew’s skull trades places with his ankles, or, something too small to be real has his head in a vice, and his legs are sloshy useless.  

“Where?”

“I told you to listen,” Aaron hisses.

“Where?” Andrew repeats evenly. He’s already calculating the time, the steps to the court, fox tower, Abby’s place, Wymack’s apartment. Aaron shares Andrew’s resentment, though, and the other end of the line goes glacial.

“Aaron. Tell me where he is.”

Bee looks up, all her features tipping down like a kaleidoscope shifting — smile inverting, mouth shifting sideways.

“He’s not dead. And you can’t tell me you didn’t expect him to get beat up at some point, Andrew, he’s a hazard.”

He knows. He knows, Neil is the only caution sign that Andrew regrets ignoring, he’s a bad fall waiting to happen.

“I don’t care what you think he is or is not,” Andrew says, and Bee makes the mistake of looking sympathetic in his direction. Andrew slams one hand down on the desk, enjoying the controlled jump of the objects on it.

“Right. You just care about you,” Aaron says. Andrew gets up from his chair and leaves the room, ignoring Bee’s resigned sigh behind him. “And him, I guess. Josten,” he clarifies, like Andrew doesn’t know, like he could stop knowing.

Aaron pauses, then exhales. “Nicky should’ve been the one to call you, but he’s. He’s staunching the blood flow. I told him what to do.” It sounds important to him that Andrew knows this. Andrew barely registers it, he’s busy throwing every door open between him and his car with his phone still pressed to his ear.

“It’s… your boyfriend got hit by a car,” Aaron gets out, finally. Andrew takes a knife out, just for the feel of it in his palm. “It was a dark—I dunno. SUV? Tinted glass. We think it was a— no Kevin, I know— we think it was a Wesninski, not a Moriyama.”

“Don’t say that name.” He says it on a dry throat, and the words catch. There’s a sticky silence.

“Fox Tower parking lot. Should we call the cops?”

“No,” Andrew says, and he climbs into his car, turning the engine over, wanting it as angry as he is. “Don’t call anyone, don’t talk to anyone, not until I get there.”

“He’ll bleed out.”

The fact that Aaron called Andrew before 911 at all is a miracle.

“Keep him awake.” He hangs up, and the parking lot he’s in might as well be a peak on a mountain for how remote it feels. He speeds. A lot. He crumples the space between him and Neil into a ball and throws it in the fucking garbage.

When he rounds the familiar turn into the parking lot, a small crowd has amassed near where Matt’s car is parked diagonally and a dozen athletes are wringing their hands.

Andrew swerves close enough to them that they have to physically leap out of the way, and he’s out of the car without turning the engine off or closing the door behind him.

He shoves some kid to the ground, and then it’s Allison and Dan linked at the arms, and they move out of the way without being told.

Andrew’s eyes find Neil’s and he wants to go back to last year and physically cut him out of his life, he wants to raise a fist or a knife at Neil and have him take it seriously, he never wants Neil hurt again.

He’s propped up on the curb with his left arm in pieces and blood bubbling at the corner of his mouth. He smiles when he sees Andrew and his teeth are red.

Andrew drops to his knees and fists one hand in Neil’s sweaty bangs.

“What the fuck did you do?” He shakes him. “What did you do?”

Neil jostles hard, and the pain of it shows on his face. His mouth is a slash of white paint. “Calm down. I look a lot worse than I am.”  

Andrew takes his broken arm by the wrist and lifts it. Neil cries out, and his good hand twitches towards Andrew’s shirt but stops. Still not taking without permission, even in the throes of mindless agony.

Andrew can see that there’s something seriously wrong, Neil’s shirt is ripped and his side is already mottled with bruising. Neil’s breaths take two tries before they go anywhere. Internal bleeding, probably. Any number of trashed organs. A shitty brave face and a future narrowing to a crack in a closing window.

“Look,“ Neil says, and he raises his broken arm until it’s at Andrew’s face level. “I’ve got some grip.” He makes a loose fist and a tear rolls down his cheek.

“Your bone is outside your arm,” Andrew says. He puts both hands on Neil’s neck, and notices for the first time Nicky kneeling a metre away, a jacket on over his naked torso. The missing shirt is wadded on Neil’s side soaked in blood. Matt’s hovering at Neil’s head, watching them both. Beyond him, Renee’s standing guard, her expression carefully controlled and her eyes trained on Andrew.

“Who was it?”

“I don’t know,” Neil slurs. His right hand is back at Andrew’s shirt, hovering, blind. “One of Lola’s maybe. One of dad’s. Loose ends, victimless crime. I don’t exist, anyway.”

It’s barely coherent. Andrew’s grip tightens and tightens. “You’re Neil Josten.”

“Number ten, stick size three, starting striker,” he recites. “Andrew—“ his eyes are open but they’re looking too far to the right.

He takes Neil’s hand and pulls it up so it meets Andrew’s chest. It instantly twines in the dark fabric and Neil’s mouth twitches then slackens. His grip on consciousness is starting to look like that sad fist he’d tried for: more painful when it’s there than when it’s not.

“Thank you,” Neil whispers.

“Stop it.”

“I mean it.” In an act of supreme defiance, Neil stays awake, and focuses more, blue eyes clear and forward-facing. “Last time I wanted to say more.” His hand splays across Andrew’s heart. “I wanted to kiss you again before I died.”

“You’re not dying.”

“I’m not doing such a great job of surviving.”

“When have you ever,” Andrew says, and then he hooks his fingers in the long ends of Neil’s hair. “Try harder.”

Sirens kick in somewhere nearby, and Andrew’s eyes instinctively find Aaron.

“Don’t look at me,” he says, and points at Matt.

“We got home and he was bleeding on the ground, what was I supposed to do,” Matt says, and he reaches to stabilize Neil’s neck when it cranes towards him.

Andrew bats his hand away easily. “Don’t touch him.”

Matt’s expression sours. “He’s not just yours, you know. We’re a team.

Andrew doesn’t respond. He feels like he’s the one with a punctured lung.

Neil tugs his attention back where it should be with a gentle pull on his collar. The ambulance pulls up a minute later, but he’s only peripherally aware of it. “You don’t need to come. I know you don’t like hospitals.”

“I have to,” Andrew says.

He’s jostled sideways by a paramedic, and it wrenches him out of his head.

Don’t—“

“Andrew,” Kevin warns, and if it were anyone else he would’ve ignored them.

He stands and watches Neil’s uncharacteristically weak-looking body fold onto a stretcher. It’s sickening, the juxtaposition of blood and woozy smiles. The chaos of Neil’s broken body is starting to look familiar, something violent and troubling like the foxes are violent and troubling.

“He’s coming with me,” Neil orders, his grip bruising Andrew’s wrist.

Other people are speaking but Neil’s water and Andrew’s face down in it. He leaves his car; he leaves the foxes and the bloody t-shirt and his panic. When he’s forced into the waiting room not by doctors or security but by Neil’s quiet voice, he thinks he might be learning to breathe underwater.

Remedy (2)

Bucky x reader

Bucky’s POV.

Notes: trigger warnings! Implications of sexual abuse, mentions of torture, swearing, injuries, cute-ass Bucky who knows exactly how to be sweet and careful.

(Taglist is closed! It wont let me add more. Sorry!)

Originally posted by pxggycxrters

Remedy (1)

It took a good hour until all her wounds were tended to. Bruce had a pained expression on his face the entire time he was attending to her, probably unwillingly imagining the grim images of what was done to her, just as I had been doing.

“She seems to be fixated on you” Bruce said as he disposed of his latex gloves. “she trusts you; for as far as she can trust anyone”

I sighed, biting my lower lip, a nervous tick that I can’t seem to get rid of. “I noticed. What am I supposed to do with that?”

“I know it’s inconvenient, but you’re gonna have to be the one to take care of her. If she’s ever going to speak, it’ll be with you” Bruce said matter-of-factly.

“It’s not inconvenient” I said all too quickly. “I just..” another sigh left me, “I’m not good at this kind of thing”

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Aaaaaand just because I am a full grown adult and I do as I damn well please, here is the ULTIMATE ICE SPORTS CROSSOVER. This is 100% in character for Shitty, agree or get ready to drop gloves.

YOU’RE WELCOME.

I DID NOT BEEF IT TRYING TO SKATE AND FILM MYSELF, THANK YOU BASED LARDO.

i looove bodyswap au’s like imagine if something happened and keith and lance switched bodies and they try to outdo each other with ridiculous really bad imitations of one another

keith (in lance’s body): ohhh look at me……. i think im hot shit…….. is that a girl???? better flirt with her and fail because im a giant DWEEB whose pickup lines are worse than that of a beached whale. also i am a loser

lance (in keiths body): YEAH well look at me, im the edgiest loser youll ever see……… i waited a half hour outside hot topic for it to open to get these fingerless gloves  

keith: one time i flew my lion and she was so offended by my terrible piloting skills that she ejected me and launched me towards the nearest moon, killing me instantly

lance: i spent a year in the desert and, as an emo, listened to only numb by linkin park every day on repeat

keith, offended: fuck you lance that is a good song

Christmas markets

Originally posted by hipsta-please-harry


DAY FIVE - DECEMBER 5TH

(y/n) and Harry visit the Christmas markets together. This is just disgustingly fluffy.

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anonymous asked:

Prompt: Nicole loves hockey. Waverly loves Nicole.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” Nicole leaned on her hockey stick at the edge of the rink.

Waverly adjusted the goalie helmet on her head. “All I am is a human shield right?” She hit herself in the padded chest with the gloved hand. “I can’t feel anything.”

Nicole grinned. All the gear was way too big on Waverly, but she made sure her girlfriend was completely covered. She lifted Waverly’s mask and bent over to kiss her. “Thank you.”

Waverly smiled from ear to ear when Nicole lowered her mask. “No problem. Not counting revenants, I’m not even sure there are enough able-bodied people to constitute a hockey team.” Waverly stepped onto the side and Nicole escorted her to the goal.

“Are you sure?” Nicole asked one more time as Waverly stood in front of the net, barely taller than the crossbar.

“Get out there,” Waverly waved her stick at Nicole and hit her in the butt as she skated away.

Nicole turned around as she skated away. She winked at Waverly and got ready for the start of the game.

“Wooo!” a yell came from the stands. “Fight! Fight! Fight!”

Waverly turned around, knowing her sister’s taunting yells anywhere. When she was facing the stands, Wynonna’s phone flashed. She looked at the screen with a smile that peeked around her hand over her mouth. “I’m so proud. Your first hockey game.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Waverly turned back around to see the game that had already started.

Wynonna hopped over the back of the penalty box and knocked on the glass between her and Waverly, “Hey, Wave, does this bring back any memories?”

“You mean all the games Dad used to drag us to so that we could watch you sit in the penalty box for half the game?” Waverly kept her eye on the game, but reminisced with Wynonna.

Wynonna took a bite of a soft pretzel she bought at the concession stand. “Don’t you hate hockey?”

“I don’t… hate it,” Waverly shrugged under heavy shoulder pads.

Wynonna was watching the game and saw someone slam Nicole into the wall. She stood up and banged on the glass. “Hey! That’s a fucking foul ref!”

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Layers

“Spock…what the hell are you wearing?”

Commander Spock had anticipated this question. He had also anticipated the wide-eyed expression on the Captain’s face in conjunction with the apparent confusion.

Which was why he was more than ready to respond simply with, “Captain. If I am to enter an environment that registers lower than 1 degree Celsius in temperature, I do not dress myself.”

Approximately 3.8 seconds passed in silence sans the sharp winds surrounding them. Jim donned a heavy self-heating coat, a hat, and gloves. Spock wore similar articles; but this was in addition to a heavy wool turtleneck sweater under the jacket that made it essentially impossible to see anything below his eyes, earmuffs that were large enough to cover the tips of his ears (the point of which was indiscernible given the hat on Spock’s head), fluffy black boots, and a pair of insulated snow trousers.

“You…don’t dress yourself,” Jim repeated. The tone was flat, but it implied a question.

“I should clarify,” Spock said. “I do not bother to dress myself.”

“…Nope; still not helping.”

“Being accustomed to warm temperatures generally, Vulcans tend to overdress for cooler climates,” Spock explained. “Evidently, however, my choice of clothing is insufficient for Doctor McCoy.’

“Wait.” Jim blinked once. Twice. “Bones? Bones dressed you?”

“Indeed. He examines whether or not I am wearing enough layers by his calculations. If I am not, he adds to them. Some of these garments are, in fact, his.”

Jim grinned. “That’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“I assure you I have attempted on multiple occasions to counteract Leonard’s concern about my wardrobe to no avail. He is quite–”

As if on cue, Bones shuffled by, holding his tricorder between two mittened hands. He paused, looked at Spock, and sighed.

“Do you want hypothermia?” he mumbled, tugging the zipper of Spock’s jacket up to his nose to meet the turtleneck before walking away.

“–Stubborn,” Jim finished. He shook his head, still smiling. “So, uh…you need help moving around in that Tribble suit?”

“I am fine, Captain.”

Jim clapped him on the back. “Sure, Mister Spock.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets, then turned his attention to Bones a few feet away. “Just try to remember that the more layers he makes you wear, the more he likes you.”

Spock decided it was fortunate that Jim could not see much beyond his eyes, for the slight upturn of his lips was far from a logical response to McCoy’s overt expression of emotion. Perhaps the wool sweater was indeed achieving the intended effect, for he was much warmer now.

I’m Doing This All Wrong (Newt Scamander x Reader)

“Run.” He grabbed your hand with his own gloved hand as he took off running.

“What, who are you and what was that?”

“The name is Newt and that my dear was a dragon. Obviously we are headed after it. Now I really must insist we get moving.”

“But I’m hurt; I need to seek medical help.” Your hand lifted up to your cheek instinctively, only to feel three slash marks. The moment you fingers made contact with the wounds it laced with a sharp stinging pain.

“I am aware, but it isn’t a deep wound, luckily it was only a baby dragon. I need you to come with me now, so that I can help you.” The hand that was holding yours pulled you onwards with a surprising strength.

“It may not be deep, but it still hurts a lot.” You mumbled to him, as he took off.

So you ran, but eventually he stopped and hushed you. His hand releasing yours and he approached the tiny dragon. He stepped towards the tree it was occupying with caution. In the blink of an eye Newt had jumped forward and grabbed the creature. The tiny cries came from within his cupped hands and flames slipped throughout the gaps in his fingers.

“If you could, please open my briefcase.” He walked over to yours with a smile on his lips. You did as he asked and he walked towards you.

“Wait here a moment, I’ll be right back.” And with those words he turned and stepped into the case. Down he went before he disappeared from you view completely.

You mouth dropped open. Staring blankly in front of you, you heard Newt’s voice from within the case, picking up words such as ‘Mummy’ and ‘calm’.

Still in shock you didn’t realise he was climbing out of his case to meet you.

“Now if you would step into my case please.” He opened the brown suitcase, and placed it into the middle of the room before stepping away.

He waited patiently, with his hands gesturing towards the case. After he saw you make no effort to move he moved closed, his hand rested on your lower back as he led you to the case.

“I can’t do this, you’re crazy! I need to go to the doctors, or the hospital.” You backed at him.

You became hysterical as the adrenaline left your system. Here you are alone with a stranger, after getting attacked by a dragon(?). Now he wanted you to step into his briefcase. Now you have stepped off the deep end.

Tears threatened to spill as you turned and stormed away from him. The pain coming back, now the rush has left your system.

He rushed in front of you, preventing you from escaping, and your lifted your eyes up to his. Newt’s gentle eyes locked with yours, his hands raised. He looked like he was approaching a dangerous or spooked animal. A single tear slipped down your cheek.

“Please, I promise you I mean no harm; I just need to heal that wound.”

“No, no. This is crazy. I’m crazy.”

“Trust me.”

“Why should I trust you?”

“Ah, well. Do I seem like someone who would hurt you?”

“No,” you replied tentatively, “But that doesn’t mean anything.”

“Have I hurt you?”

“No, well other than that, that dragon.”

“Yes, well, I am sorry about that. But I had no control over him.” He looked guilty as he hung his head. Newt seemed almost defeated.

“Please. Trust me, just this once. Then I can make you  forget everything and you can return to your mundane muggle life.” He looked you in the eyes, pleading you.

“Alright,” you mumbled quietly. He moved into action quickly, leading you into his suitcase, him entering first.

He motioned for you to take a seat, as he prepared  some medicine at his desk. He paused for a moment, before reaching into his top jacket pocket and pulling out a tiny tree, stick thing.

“Now, now Pickett. Calm down, I understand your hungry but I need to treat this lady first.”

Okay the creature could move, and make noise. Things just got weirder. The small creature moved and you noticed it had eyes that were staring at you. Upon seeing you, it made a quiet noise and crawled up Newt’s arm and into his pocket again.

“I’m quite sorry about him, he tends to be a little shy around new people.” He glanced at you with a smile on his lips. It was obvious how much he cared for the creature.

“What was that?” You asked him as he walked towards you, a cup of water in his hand and a small wooden bowel.

“Oh, that was Pickett, he is a Bowtruckle.” Tiny black eyes watched you from Newt’s pocket. He applied a green salve to your cheek that soothed the pain and smelled of mint. He then handed you the glass of water and two small tablets. The pain you once felt was now gone.

“A Bowtruckle?” And once again you were confused. He then went on to explain about Bowtruckles and as he spoke with enthusiasm and passion it captivated your attention, making you crave to know more.

“I’m terribly sorry, but I seem to be doing everything wrong. Let’s start over, the name’s Scamander, Newt Scamander.” His hand outstretched towards you.

“Is there a proper way to this? But the name is [Y/LN], [Y/N] [Y/LN].” You placed hand palms on his, and he shook your hand lightly, before letting it go.

“Well I must say kidnapping and running across town in search of a baby dragon is not the proper way to meet someone for the first time.” He chuckled, and looked away from you.

“You have a point there, Mr. Scamander.” You laughed along with him

“Please, call me Newt.”

Peaceful

Summary: You and Steve spend a calm afternoon

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Word count: 727

Warnings: nope. this is pure fluff.

A/N: I took a small break from the current fic I am writing, to create this little winter drabble. Enjoy x

Originally posted by im-rey

“This is so exciting!” you exclaimed, putting on your gloves. “It’s been ages since I picked out a Christmas tree!” Steve just chuckled and gently shoved you through the door of your apartment. “Ditto. Oh, have you packed the tea? We’re going to need something to warm up.”

You nodded and took his hand in yours, squeezing it. It was your first Christmas in your own apartment and you were determined to make it special. And so far, it was perfect. Steve and you baked cookies, drank hot chocolate and watched typical Christmas movies. It was truly magical and felt like your own Christmas story.

Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t notice that you and Steve had arrived at the car you had borrowed from Tony. It was only when Steve opened the passenger door for you and cleared his throat that you snapped out of your thoughts. Smiling up at him you climbed into the car. Steve sat down behind the steering-wheel.

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How EXO would react to you being ill

Since I am ill at the moment, I thought I would do a reaction to this. I know I have some in my request box but I tend to write better when I am in the mood. 

PLEASE REQUEST THINGS THOUGH!


Xiumin - You didn’t mind Xiumin being over, but you were worried about him setting sick, so when he started cuddling you or giving you a massage you kept asking him if he would be okay. All he did was laugh and say “Your the ill one and I rarely get sick.”

Originally posted by xiundeer

Suho - Sadly Suho was away on tour when you got ill, but when he found out that you were ill, he sent you a care package. It was filled with soup, tea, tissues, cough drops, vapor rub, honey and gloves.

Originally posted by jeongokus

Lay - Lay really wanted you to do something special and make you feel better, so when he walked into your apartment and saw your dog lying on the floor; he got the best idea. He decided to walk your dog in the mornings before he started for work, this helped the dog calm down for the day and not disturb you.

Originally posted by soofflay

Baekhyun - Baekhyun would send you small letters and text messages through out the week, making sure you were okay. When you felt better, he said he would take you out for dinner and a movie.

Originally posted by sefuns

Chen -  Just being in Chen’s presence made you feel 17% better, he would stay with you all day, cook you meals and go out if you needed anything. By the end of the day, when you started to fall asleep, he would tuck you back into your bed.

Originally posted by everybodyloveschen

Chanyeol - There was a knock on your door and you grumbled as you got up and moved to the door. Outside was Chanyeol holding a massive Teddy Bear with a balloon attached to the bear saying, “Get Well Soon.”

Originally posted by purpleuhan

Kyungsoo - Kyungsoo would come over and make you either lunch or dinner, you did fall asleep often on the sofa but he wouldn’t mind; as long as he could spend in your company he would be happy.

Originally posted by junyeol

Kai -  Kai would surprise you with plenty of movies and TV seasons for you to watch, since he would have to leave soon due to the schedule. However these movies and TV programs kept you entertained for the week that you were off work.

Originally posted by blondejongin

Sehun - Like Suho, Sehun would be out of the country due to filming, but he thought of you when he saw a sweatshirt as he walked down the street. Smiling when he bought it, he sent it off to you the week you got ill, so it was a lovely surprise.

Originally posted by luedeer

Thank you for all the kind messages I have received, wishing me well xxx 

Little Foil Packet

“Hannibal!”

“In the kitchen. … Dinner is almost-”

“What’s this?”

“That is a condom.”

“Yes. It’s a condom.”

“We agree then.”

“It was in the glove box.”

“Is that a problem?”

“It wouldn’t have been, except …”

“Yes?”

“Did you have to put a whole box in there?”

“I didn’t have to.”

“Yeah, well. The registration is also in there.”

“And?”

“And they spilled out all over the floor when I reached for it. Stupid speed trap. … Damn cop wouldn’t stop laughing.”

“Oh. … How embarrassing for you.”

“I can see you’re all broken up about it.”

“I am.”

“Uh huh. … You realize we’ve never even had sex in the car.”

“A man can hope.”

“Wishful thinking then?”

“It doesn’t hurt to be prepared.”

“Such a boy scout.”

“You can help me earn a new badge.”

“Can I?”

“Care for a drive?”

“What about dinner?”

“We’ll eat out.”

babyboyramos  asked:

i am more than happy to ask you about anything i think you're the only other person i've found who loves and appreciates GP as much as I do (maybe i'm just not looking in the right places) but i also just love you art so much i love how you always include one at teh bottom of anything

i relate to graffiti pete because i too love art and sonny de la vega 

 ahh i love him so much, hes so good, such a precious lil bean, so much potential – theres definitely more of us out there (@smoltinypumpkinchild being the first to come to mind because we talk about pete SO MUCH) where you at people who love pete?? we all need to talk more

and thank you! have this graffiti pete echoing my thoughts

So re: the dairy AI thing, cows that are used to palpation/etc literally do not care, or at least the teaching herd didn’t. I took repro lab in undergrad and the students were more freaked out than the cows. Rectally palpating a cow is the weirdest sensation ever. I mean, you have a shoulder-length glove and lube all over it, but then you stick your arm up her rectum. And the cow does not care (usually). She might shift and push back a bit but they usually just kept doing what they were doing. 

Sometimes they will try to go to the bathroom while your hand is up there. It is the weirdest sensation ever because the rectum is contracting around your arm. First time it happened I nearly fell over with my arm stuck inside the cow (I am very short compared to a Holstein’s hip height, and I was on tiptoes at the time, trying to reach so I could press down through the rectal wall and figure out where the heck her ovaries were). Some people have the knack for doing that - AI tech is a good gig and I had several classmates who went on to pursue it. Me? I was just realizing that a career in bovine reproductive science was definitely not for me.

(AI tech was also a fairly common Halloween costume on campus in  the animal science department XD Overalls, barn boots, hair pulled back, and one of the big shoulder length gloves)