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flandesuka · 6 years ago

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Yo you should answer all of these scene questions👀👀

:OOO

you think so lad???? shit dawg i was thinkin just a few at a time but if that what u want my dear nonnie i will supply

1. wats ur scene name?

i was thinkin maybe ‘gods mistake’ would be a good one but then. i found a way to make it both danganronpa related, and, even better, a fucking pun as well. ‘kamukura kamukura jasqueen’, or just ‘kamukura jasqueen’ for short is good k thxxx

2. describe ur dream outfit!

oooo gosh this ones trickyy!! there are so many good outfits out there, especially in the scene community!! but it’d have to have a few tiny elements of dr cosplay to add a lil of my dangan-weeb culture in there ofc! more specifically, id really love to get one of kazuichis jumpsuit and just wig out and add shit like this just because i could:

(id just rlly love going out in all those glowy/shiny things at night like all that haha..and yes the shoes would probably kill me/my fuckin feet if i tried to walk in them but shut up i love them theyre cute as fuck)

3. describe ur dream haircut!

oo another tricky one!! i do like my regular hair, and honestly id be lying if i said i didnt love ibuki’s hairdo too but id defs have to go with something like this!!

yaaaassss, so pretty and spikeeeey! maybe id dye my natural hair colour black and/or add some funky colours if i ever actually got this style down!

4. describe ur dream room!

i have a lot of ideas for dream bedrooms actually, but heres a visual image of one of them i found!!!

MIKU ROOM MIKU ROOM MIKU ROOM MIKU ROOM

(this specific idea arose mainly just for the aesthetic but i also find it super cute and a good environment to be in general hhhnnggg)

5. if u could make anything out of kandi, wat would u make?

oh you mean those colourful beads and bracelet things??? i love those man!!! theyre so visually appealing to me aaaaa…id probably just make a fuck-ton of those and most probably use the little letter beads to say random words/phrases like ‘aubergine’ and ‘despacito’ knowing my shitposter self lmaooo! id definitely make a sansmaeda themed one too thoo fr

6. wat would u write on ur shoez?

it’d probably range from things like a simple kaomoji doodle to something randum and stupid like ‘seesaw’ bc yes asjnd

7. wat kinda piercingz/tattooz do u hav/want?

i dont think i rlly want any real piercings (at least not atm) but id totally go for those fake stick-on gemstone lookin’ ones! and as for tattoos, i cant rlly see myself gettin one of those rn either, but id want something like a mario power-up, preferably the bell one/cat suit powerup!!! its my favorite powerup and its sooo cute!!!

8. fave genrez?

i dont rlly have a specific genre, i like most kinds of music, but i rlly like energetic music that i can dance tooo!!! >w

9. fave bandz?

im a big fan of gorillaz and botdf!!! i like p!atd as well but havent listened to it in a while.. gatta catch up loool

10. fave songz?

my favs alternate a lot, but atm im super into ‘slow dancing in the dark’ by joji!!! so much emotiooon quq…also rlly hooked on botdf and jefree star’s ‘sexting’ tooo lmaooo

11. fave lyricz?

‘The world keeps spinning Among this sinning Oh what a cruel and disgusting place The purest moonlight Is bloodied by plight And screaming resonants But somehow I know That it’s all for show The world will reveal it’s true beauty soon And we’ll all reach towards the moon ‘

its so deep but its from a fucking kaito momota fansong and i love that asnkjdnefe

12. hav u evr been to a concert?

not in a damn long while my lad,, rip australians not havin many artists they like from other countries tour there ;-;

13. do u wanna be in a band?

ive always thought thatd be pretty cool ngl!!! tourin around with ur bandmate friends, makin awesome fuckin tunes, people lovin u and ur music, just livin the dream in general,, nice

14. wats da best soda/energy drink flavour?

havent rlly had any as of rn my lad so i wouldnt know :/

15. wat do u miss most abt old internet?

i loved that we could all just be ourselves and act like the kids we are inside without bein reprimanded at all.. it aint rlly that much of an issue for me but i still think itd be a lot nicer if it was like that again sometimes,,

16. wats da best old meme?

ooohhh there are so many i still miss man! numa numa ermagerd and doge still remind me of the glory days…when old animeme was good and you could still haz ur cheezburgers in peace. also rage comics! rage comics were good what happened

17. best place 2 buy clothez?

i dont think theres any hot topics in australia but if there is. i will hunt it down you hear me

18. wat r ur fave accessoriez?

OH THERES SO MANY GOOD ONES??? as i stated b4 i rly love kandi bracelets and other glowy/led things!!! also rlly love ties with cute and fun patterns and long colourful and/or ripped socks like ibuki’s too hehe

19. wats ur best tip fr ppl that just got into scenecore?

im not rlly the best at advice, but my main point would be-just hav fun here dudes!!! dont let anyone else bulli u abt it, we’re supportive people, u can talk to me or anyone else whos willin to listen an/or help for reassurance ofc

20. opinion on furbiez?

oOH MY GOD YES. FURBIES. MY BABIES I WANT 10 OF THESE CHILDREN…I ACTUALLY HAVE A FURBY HE LIKES SLEEPING IN HIS SPECIAL DRAWER AND HIS NAME IS TINGLE I ADORE HIM I’LL POST A OF PICTURE LATER MAYBE

21. opinion on funko popz?

i like em and ive seen lots at eb games, but i dont buy em much..i do have a megaman pop with a broken arm tho loool

22. wats ur fave pattern? (zebra/leopard print etc)

i looove a lot of patterns but not gonna lie im always a sucker for rainbow checkerboard patterns yknow hehe!

23. fave color combo?

i dont have one rlly…soooo many possible comboooos…cx

24. sumthing u liked as a kid dat u still like?

im still going on girlsgogames and recently, ive finally mastered sues beauty machine!!!! its so good and fun all of ya’ll should try it my dudeeees

25. wats ur most used emoticon? 0w0

as most of ya’ll probs alredy know i spam ‘:O’ a lot, but one of my bigger favs is actually ‘x3′ and my fav kaomoji is ‘ଘ(੭ˊ꒳ˋ)੭✧’ (both of them are so kyooot >w

26. wats ur fav typin quirk?

i luv talkin like dis, but i dont rly do it that often loool…i awso wuv tawking in ‘owo’ speak wike dis >//w//>

27. do u wish ur fllwrz talked 2 u moar?

hellz yeaaa!!! i luv followr interaction my dudee! it makes me super happi when u all talk to me heehee! x3c

28. tag ur fave scene blawgz!

:O !!! oh gawd!!! i dont know many atm but heeereee!

@xxadam-antidotexx (op of the ask meme)

@glitchkichi (not sure if this counts but their stuff’s rlly cool >v

@otonashi-banana (scene boyf…wuv im more than anythin >///w///>

29. wat got u into scenecore?

i dont remember exactly how it happened but i’d always sorta wanted to go back to the glory days that was the old web and the scene era, and that, coupled with a bright, colourful aesthetic that i could really enjoy, drew me in like a moth to a neon colored flame ig looollll

30. how long hav u been scene?

i’ve only been officially apart of the community for about a few months now (at time of writing) i reckon so some things are still a lil new to me ig ^^;;

31. wats da best thing abt being scene?

the freedom of bein able to express myself 4 one thing, and its just so fun being so ‘out-there’ yknow???? it feels so great really

32. do u hav a fursona?

i…actually used to but ive moved on from the furry fandom and ive grown more attached to my human sona anyway sooo :/

33. r u in sum “cringy” fandomz?

YEA man!! i dont rlly think dr is inherently considered ‘cringey’ but undertale is and im in that one for sure!!! i also kinda technically never left the skylanders fandom(?) so theres that too ig??? oh yeah and who wants to let me draw my old moshi monsters characters COWARDS

34. do u liek plushiez?

YASSSS QUEEEN!!!! i have HEAPS of them in my room on my desk with my gonta shrine

35. do u liek stickerz?

also a big yaaassss from me dawggg!!! i love them and i love those ones that you stick on your fase like this!

its so cuuute!!!

36. do u hav a friendproject?

i dont, not at the moment a least, actually! didnt even know what it was til recently but it looks kewl haha

37. do u hav any other scene account?

well, i haz this one, and i also have an emowire account for shuichi if that counts!!

38. do u make art? (drawingz, blingeez, etc.)

YES!!! i love to draw and i also make blingee edits sometimes!!! ITS SO FUN XD !!!

39. wats da most scene thing? (anything!)

hmmm, weeell…i think the most stereotyped thing would be that kewl, suuuper big hair like this;

its really prettyyyy, and i love all that colouuur!!!

40. ask ur own randum question!!

hm, oh wowie, since the anon didnt specifically ask this one…POTATOES!!! X3

phew, finally done, that was a lot of typing! this was so fun to do though, so thank u nonnie!!! :3

#ask #ask meme #scene revival #scenecore #scene kid #scene #anon #oh god what now jasu

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bitsandbobsandstuff · 7 years ago

Text

Safe with me (14)

Summary: When an unknown threat enters your life, protection is offered at the highest level. As Bucky Barnes comes into your life, the game changes, and you realise falling for the man tasked with keeping you safe is the last thing you expected.

Characters: Bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: Bad language. Graphic descriptions of violence. Minor character death.

A/N: Bucky has methods to his madness and you are just done with these people. Stuck in the middle of a battlezone is a terrible place to be.

Tags for this story are CLOSED Link here for posting schedule

SAFE WITH ME MASTERLIST PREVIOUS CHAPTER

Previously…

The room is silent.

All eyes are on Bucky, who stands at the screen with his hand still raised. Steve releases him slowly, when he feels the panicked movements go suddenly rigid. From behind, a peculiar shapeshifting appears to take place. His posture changes, his neck flexes, his shoulders roll back.

Bucky stands up straight.

When he spins around, even Steve takes a step back at the sight.

Deadly rage burns like blue fire in the Soldier’s eyes.

*****

MID-1990s

Jack Bernstein pours a cup of coffee and parks himself behind the large wooden desk, propping his boots on Pierce's crisply folded suit coat. He takes a long drink, coughing when the scalding liquid scorches his throat. No matter. He enjoys the pain, because he needs something simple to ground him before he buzzes out of his skin.

That was exhilarating.

Every fantasy he's entertained about this day, about meeting the Soldier for the first time, all of it pales in comparison to the real thing. In life, everything about him was infinitely more than Jack ever imagined. Harder. So obedient. Beautiful and perfect. What a marvelous gift.

Scanning the white walls and bits of clutter adorning the small office, Jack memorizes every detail. He knows he'll remember this day for the rest of his life.

Sighing in contentment, he selects the top folder from a large pile, one appropriately stamped with the word "INDUCTION" in chunky red script. He begins to read.

-----

BASIC HANDLING INSTRUCTIONS The Asset requires minimal formal care, but it is biologically enhanced and dangerous if not handled properly. The following instructions will minimize risk to handlers. See related appendices for detailed information.

Removal from cryofreeze: Asset will be sluggish and non-responsive. Hosing down with cold water is recommended before wiping. Clothing is optional, but not preferred during removal phase.

Wiping process (see detailed instruction manual): Asset will tolerate wiping process as long as it is completed shortly after leaving cryofreeze.

Nutrient management: Asset does not eat standard food. Calories should be administered in the form of IV fluids.

Drug enhancement: Adrenaline may be given through injection but should be used sparingly as it enhances agitation levels. 'Oblivion' can be given in limited amounts. Technicians are recommended to hold Asset's jaw shut until clear the drug has dissolved / been swallowed.

Weapons selection: Asset will select its own weapons. DO NOT try to remove weapons from the Asset's body once they have been strapped in place, may result in loss of life or limb.

In the unlikely event of death due to mission failure, Asset has no personal affairs or effects to manage. If available, body should be cremated to reduce risk of knowledge transfer.

-----

He moves slowly through the Asset's files, absorbed in hundreds of pages exploring every detail of the disturbingly long life. Memorizing lab reports and doctor's notes, tracing wondering fingers over the blunt block letters of his mission reports, captivated by photos showing bullet holes and knife wounds littered across a broad chest.

Shivering with delight at the idea that all of this belongs to him.

He was disappointed to put him back on ice, but the Algeria mission was unnecessary and it's best to be patient. He has years to learn him, to understand his Soldier inside and out. Every intricate nuance of his body, every sparking neuron in his brain. How to obliterate everything and how to piece him back together.

A perfectly indestructible toy.

Jack tips his head back and laughs, the sound bouncing around the small room.

And after all – toys are meant to be played with.

*****

PRESENT DAY

5 HOURS AND 10 MINUTES AFTER ABDUCTION

To this day, Bucky marvels at the difference between a Hydra mission and a mission for himself.

Now, Bucky takes blisteringly hot showers before every mission. He despises the cold, hated it during the war, hated it even more with Hydra. He doesn't have time tonight, so instead he stuffs heat packets in the pockets of his tac pants. He loves the way they make him sweat.

Now, Bucky doesn't rely on IVs and pills and manufactured enthusiasm. Instead, he drinks a special cherry flavored Gatorade Bruce had engineered especially for him and Steve, and he raids the Tower cabinets of every king-size Snickers he can find. Chocolate and peanuts make him happy and help him focus, and Bucky swears their tagline was written for him. He is definitely not himself when he's hungry.

And now, perhaps the most stunning difference, are the personal affairs he puts in order. As the Soldier, Bucky had less than nothing. He remembers the vague feeling of wistfulness, of emptiness, that often intruded before a mission – he consistently took unnecessary risks, because he had nothing to draw him home. When he joined the Avengers, he behaved the same way – until Steve reminded him that he had his own real life with people and possessions he loved. So, Bucky sat down and wrote a will. He still doesn't have much, but now the little things he cherishes all have a place to go when the inevitable end arrives.

On that note, Bucky digs out the sheet of paper from the bottom of his desk, finds a chewed-up Bic pen, and makes one small amendment.

Under the Brooklyn apartment, he adds your name next to Steve's.

*****

5 HOURS AND 20 MINUTES AFTER ABDUCTION

Steve can actually feel his body thrumming when he reaches Bucky's bedroom, tension climbing over his skin. Pausing outside the door, he steels himself for a full-scale brawl, because as he well knows, his best friend is a stupid god damn fucking idiot.

Throwing open the door he stomps inside, kicks it shut, and starts speaking.

Loudly.

"Look, I know you're pissed as hell right now, but you need to take a beat and think about things. You can't go barging in, shooting everything on sight with no back-up. It's fucking suicide."

Bucky hums in agreement, fishing through his loose change jar for the key to his bedside weapons cabinet.

"Seriously Bucky, we need a plan. This is very obviously a set-up."

The small key snicks when the lock clicks open, revealing a cache of knives and guns, several old grenades and a handful of Widow's Bites he won off Natasha in a poker game.

"They know you'll come. They expect you'll come. Traps, Buck. There'll be so many traps."

Bucky nods along with the tirade, but the absentminded move proves he's not listening. Frustration bubbles over and Steve's now yelling.

"James Buchanan fucking Barnes, why are you such a stubborn asshole all the time?"

At the words, Bucky looks up in startled surprise.

"What the hell Rogers? Why am I an asshole?"

"I don't know Buck, why are you an asshole?"

Tossing an armful of knives on his bed, Bucky plunks his hands on his hips, head tilted in genuine confusion as he stares at Steve.

"What am I – "

"You're not going alone Bucky."

"Whoever – "

"There's no guarantee you're not walking right into a god damn trap."

"No sh – "

"Why the hell can't you ever let anyone help you?"

"Steve, I – "

"Jesus Christ, you're an insufferable prick!"

Bucky looks on the verge of laughing.

"Are you done? Can I talk?"

Steve grabs a bottle of cherry Gatorade off Bucky's dresser and chucks it at him, growling when Bucky dodges the missile.

"Yeah I'm done. Jerk."

Bucky sighs patiently. "Steve. I'm not going in blind and obviously I need your help. Assumed the whole damn team was coming, so I'm not sure why the hell you're standing here. Stop being a little bitch and suit your self-righteous, spangly ass up."

Steve opens his mouth to argue, but – yeah, he's got nothing. Bucky raises his eyebrows and goes back to sorting knives, separating his favorites and setting them aside.

"Well," Steve clears his throat, still spoiling for a fight, but struggling for a reason. "Well okay then. Long as we're clear. About time you stopped acting like a self-sacrificing dumbass."

Bucky snorts. "You should talk. Meet me in the lab in 10, we leave in 40. Only got a few hours until the sun rises. I want this finished before then, I'm not leaving her there a minute longer."

"Good," Steve grunts, and turns to go. The door's almost closed when he hears the question.

"Steve?"

Spinning at the sound of Bucky's low voice, Steve's heart skips a beat when he sees the expression. The façade has broken, harsh emotion filtering through the cracks. In the entirety of their crazy fucked up lives, Steve's never seen his best friend look so desperate.

"If he kills her – I won't stop. Not until every last one of them is dead." A dark look settles on his face in place. "I'm telling you right now, don't get in my way. Don't make me stop."

Steve contemplates him for a long moment.

"I know you won't. And I'll help you do it."

Thank god for Steve Rogers. Bucky gives him a brisk nod and goes back to his knives.

*****

5 HOURS AND 25 MINUTES AFTER ABDUCTION

Bucky storms into Tony's lab, a wraith in head to toe black. The silver arm is emitting a constant whir, endlessly clicking and shifting, a physical representation of the anxiety pulsing through his veins.

"Stark, I need your help."

Tony looks up at his arrival, blanching at the image. Mission ready, Barnes is just a little terrifying.

Black tac pants are tucked into a pair of comfortably worn combat boots, and each boot holds two long serrated blades, rough black handles within easy reach. Strapped around both thighs are matching holsters, the right side holding a Sig Sauer P320, the left side holding a Beretta M9. A black utility belt sits low at his waist, holding extra clips of ammo, a cylindrical tube with five round mini-grenades, and a pack of bandages. Flat against each hip, are two fixed blade combat knives, and tucked into a holster at his lower back, sits his Glock.

Strangely, the most striking feature about the whole ensemble isn't the ridiculous amount of weaponry. It's the ordinary black tank top he wears.

Normally refusing to let anyone see the thick red scars streaking down his shoulder, he always ignores the curious questions or dismisses the thoughtful comments with an icy glare. But tonight, for the first time Bucky appears oblivious to the furtive glances and open stares.

Well, he's not actually oblivious. He's just totally out of fucks to give.

Rubbing both hands down his face, Tony slaps them on the table, fingers splayed wide. Disappointment rolls off him in waves, and Bucky thinks he knows what's coming.

"Stark, listen – "

"I'm sorry," Tony interrupts, curling his fingers into hard fists, rapping his knuckles restlessly against the table. "I screwed her tech up, that's on me. I wasn't – "

"Stop," Bucky holds his hands up. "Seriously. I'm sick and tired of us taking the blame for the shit these assholes do. Forget it and help me fix it."

Tony Stark and Bucky Barnes stare at each other for a long moment. Their relationship's been disproportionately burdened by a shared history, but with this common purpose, each is relieved to find the other willing to wipe the slate clean.

"Done," Tony says tightly. "What'd you need?"

"Remember the throwback outfits we had for that charity event? With Steve's stupid USO outfit and my Commandos uniform?"

"Sure," Tony says, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. "They're in storage. Why?"

"I need the blue jacket."

"You need it right now?"

"I need it right now," Bucky confirms.

"Are we stopping by Fashion Week on the way? You're not wearing it on this mission, are you?" Tony asks, bemused by the odd request.

"I most certainly am."

Tony purses his lips and chooses his words carefully.

"Uh, not that I don't condone wearing whatever makes you feel comfortable with your bad self, I mean clearly I love red since it highlights my boyish good looks and all, but you're supposed to be stealthy. That's kinda your thing. The blue is bright, Barnes. No clue why Howard ever made that dumbass design, they'll see you a mile away."

Bucky doesn't reply. Instead, he offers a slow smile and there's something so astoundingly sinister, it makes Tony's teeth chatter. Bone-chilling and lethal, he sees the anger simmering just below the surface, Bucky's murder face on full display.

"Ah. Right. So. The color was bright on purpose," Tony guesses. "You wanted to be seen."

"I did," Bucky affirms, his tone easy and conversational. "And now I want every one of those fuckers who took her to shit their pants when they see me. I want them to know exactly what's coming for them."

*****

6 HOURS AND 5 MINUTES AFTER ABDUCTION

Down in the cargo hold of the Quinjet, Bucky's screams grow louder and louder. Sitting quietly on the above level, the team remain stoic.

*****

6 HOURS AND 30 MINUTES AFTER ABDUCTION

The world around him is dark and blessedly quiet.

Alone now, Bucky leans a trembling forearm against the window, rests his aching forehead on the cold glass and takes a shallow breath. The beads of sweat dripping down his face finally begin to dry, so he shuts his eyes and lets his mind wander, searching for something sweet to calm the nightmare still wracking his body. Like a slideshow, the pictures in his brain flip at lightning speed, until they stop on his apartment in Brooklyn and zero in on the book you left tucked under a fuzzy velvet blanket.

The Book Thief.

When he watched you pick it up that day, Bucky fought back a smile. It's one of his favorites, something he's read a dozen times. When he feels anxious and fidgety, the story is soothing, the pages crinkled and bent, the poetic words smoothing the edges of his soul in a way he could never explain. Tonight though, Bucky begins to understand why the story holds so much appeal.

Through the horrors that made up the bulk of his life, first during his war, and later as the Soldier, a concept always played in the back of his mind.

Some people are born into this life with the desire to command, to play God. Some demand the role and some accept the burden when it's given. That was never him. No, Bucky was always asked to play one role above all others, one that led him to find a kindred spirit in the narrator of his favorite book.

Death.

It's been his calling card since the first day of Basic, when the US Army plucked him from obscurity and shoved a rifle in his peculiarly steady hands. From that day forward, he owned every life around him. Some he spared, some he protected. Some he reaped with a broken neck in the dead of night, some he bartered with a sharp blade and a sharper tongue. This has been the way of his life for so long, it boils down to a single truth.

Most of Bucky's life – has always been death.

Now he stands silently, accepting once again the bleak mantle laid across his shoulders and he thinks of you curled in his leather chair, warm in a patch of afternoon sun, your finger unconsciously marking his favorite quote as you drift to sleep, not realizing you equally loved the one line that always gave him pause.

"Even Death has a heart."

Most of Bucky's life has been death, but that's okay. Because those words are a poignant reminder that he can be so much more than the hollow shell he was. In this life with you, he finally understands how his head and his heart really are better together.

So, he holds the words in his mouth, tests them on his tongue, accepting that if the inevitable happens, he has a reason to come home.

"Even Death has a heart."

He certainly does, Bucky thinks wryly. He opens his eyes and gazes into the star strewn blackness, his heartbeat a steady rhythm driving him forward, back to you. And it's all hers.

*****

All you can think right now, is that this compound is freezing and you'll rage kick anyone who comes near you.

Slouched in the chair from earlier, a constant throb of pain shoots up your awkwardly bent arms, still secured behind you with a plastic zip-tie. Earlier struggles had done a number on your wrists, the unforgiving plastic slicing open the delicate skin and even now, blood oozes from the lacerations. It offers a small amount of warmth though, the sticky liquid running down your fingertips and catching under your nails.

You're a little disappointed when it cools.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

How did you not know?

You knew Jack. You knew him. He supported you, encouraged you. Offered helpful life advice even when you didn't ask for it and bought you a bottle of champagne to celebrate your first by-line. How could you not see that charming, amiable façade, hid a full-blown unhinged psychopath? How was it possible to be so utterly wrong about someone?

Maybe you should fire yourself for being the world's worst investigative journalist.

Huffing in frustration, pain flares anew when you shift, searching out a comfortable position. The stripes on your arms burn, your ribs are bruised, your jaw aches.

Everything hurts.

Bucky, where are you?

Closing your eyes, you let your mind drift, reaching for the imaginary comfort of your favorite place. An apartment in Brooklyn filled with piles of fuzzy blankets and soft pillows. Shelves of books and bowls of peanut M&Ms. The fresh scent of the river and Bucky's laughing blue eyes.

Did he see the video? Did he know where you were? Would he figure it out in time? The grim reality of this whole thing, was that you desperately wanted to leave, to be back in Brooklyn, warm and safe in his arms, but there was one glaring problem.

You wanted Bucky to find you.

You wanted Bucky to never face these people again.

Success was an impossible duality.

The faint sounds of movement outside your door grow louder, inaudible voices making you tense. Electronic beeps sound and the door whooshes open, revealing two men dressed in faded combat fatigues. One is tall and lanky, bald head shining under the fluorescent lights. He spares you a brief glance, before striding to the table and rifling through the knives and lengths of rope.

The other man is short and thin, with red hair buzzed military short. He gives you a little smirk as he ambles inside, making a show of locking the door and letting his eyes roam over you.

"Don't worry sweetheart, we're just here to tidy up," he says.

Sauntering over, he stops beside you, cocking his head and staring down, waiting for you to acknowledge him. Fixing a bored expression on your face, you ignore him, keeping your eyes trained on the door handle straight ahead.

"I'd look up if I were you," he advises. Heart pounding at the implied threat, you stare forward in silence. Suddenly his fingers are gripping your jaw, pressing into the bruises left by earlier knuckles, and the startled gasp melts into a groan as you struggle away from the rough hand.

Tears prick your eyes when you look up, meeting his mocking stare.

"There she is," he croons, pinching your jaw tighter. The pain makes your vision swim and you blink rapidly, fighting to stay conscious.

"I gotta say, we've been running real low on women around here. Be nice if you could help some of the guys out," he says casually. "Maybe later, once we get your man back under control. Hell, maybe he'll even have a go. I hear he'll do anything if you know the magic word."

Releasing you, he drags the tips of his fingers over your face, tracing the bruises, swirling his fingers through the blood still leaking from the gash high on your cheek. The pads of his fingers come away stained red and he brushes them over your mouth, painting your lips with the taste of salt and copper.

"How about it sweetheart?"

Eye level with you, his thumb is still rubbing your lip, waiting for an answer.

You can almost hear Bucky's voice begging you not to do it, but you're so god damn pissed off.

The taste of copper appears again, when you snap your teeth, sinking them into his finger. He screeches and jerks the hand away, hugging it to his chest as he stumbles backward.

"Bitch," he rasps furiously, raising his hand while you brace for the hit.

"Dude, would you get away from her? You're not allowed to mark her up," his partner cuts him off with a sharp rebuke. "Wait until the Asset's finished and packed away, you'll get a turn after. If there's anything left."

The nonchalant way they speak about you should make your skin crawl and it does. It really does.

But the way they speak about him, about your Bucky, as if he's nothing but a mindless animal and not the sweetest, snarkiest, most infuriatingly wonderful man in your life, makes you shake with anger.

"Makes your nervous, huh?" The redhead sneers, sucking petulantly on his damaged finger. "You should be. I hear he's a beast once he gets going. Brain's so fucking fried, he'll probably get confused halfway through, won't remember if he's supposed to fuck you or kill you, but either way – sucks to be you."

Nothing would be more enjoyable in this moment than stabbing this prick in the eye with a rusty knife, but you'll have to rain check. Taking a soul cleansing breath instead, you settle for your best Bucky Barnes murder face impression, letting a grim smile slowly lift your lips, while glaring in total silence.

"What the hell?" he grunts, unnerved at the creepy expression.

A long-suffering sigh comes from the bald man. "Stop talking and help me."

"Aw come on man, I'm just – "

The sound of a low sonic boom suddenly vibrates the floor beneath your feet.

Both men freeze, turning wide-eyed to each other.

"What the hell was that?"

"Something in the upstairs lab?" the other guesses wildly.

A long pause follows, the world quiet.

The second boom knocks the wind from you, raising dust from the floor. Lifting your eyes, you watch a long crack appear in the plaster ceiling, stilted bursts of movement as it spiders outward.

Silence follows again.

Then the distant pop of gunfire reaches your ears.

"Shit," you hear one of the men behind you whisper in panic.

The surge of happiness floods through you, promptly tempered by the panic of knowing Bucky was here, surrounded by these bastards once again.

"How'd he get here so fast? Bernstein said it'd take a couple days for him to figure it out!"

"How do I know? I wasn't planning to be here when he – "

There's a high-pitched scream in the hallway that's cut short.

Silence.

Suddenly the screeching whine of metal on metal rings through the room when something heavy slams against the locked door.

Once.

Twice.

"Fuck," the bald man spits out, lifting his gun and taking aim at the shuddering door.

Three times.

Next to you, the redhead draws a pistol from the holster under his arm, and you close your eyes when you feel the cold kiss of a metal barrel pressed against your temple.

Silence.

You can hear the ragged, panting of the man above you, deafening in the quiet room. He smells stale, like fear and cigarettes, the scents bleeding from his skin.

Silence stretches on, further and further, and you pray Bucky won't pass, that he knows, that he comes back.

The respite forces a shift in the room. Weapons lower slightly, muscles soften. Perhaps the Soldier has moved on.

A rookie mistake.

A catastrophic mistake.

With an ear-piercing metallic crunch, the door in front of you explodes open, ricocheting off the wall. A knife whistles through the air, cold steel whispering past your ear, before the wide blade lands in the man's neck with a wet thunk. The force of the throw knocks him flat on his back, fingers scrabbling uselessly at the rough hilt, and you squeeze your eyes shut when the gush of hot blood splatters across your face.

Roaring gunfire sets your ears ringing as the bald man fires five hasty bullets at the hulking presence in the doorframe, but each one is swatted away with a lazy flick of a metal hand. There's a sharp retaliatory crack, and the man wobbles for a second, before collapsing to the floor, a bullet drilled straight between his eyes.

Bucky steps into the room, gun raised while his eyes scan the corners, check the ceiling, sweep under the table. Swinging around, he catches the edge of the door and slams it shut, before grabbing a chair and jamming it beneath the busted handle.

When he stalks forward, a small fraction of your heart cowers in fear at the viciousness in his face. This is him, the unreal ghost story, the legend in the flesh.

"Don't look," he orders harshly, bending down to the twitching body beside you. Eyes closed, you turn away when you hear the cracking noise the knife makes as Bucky jerks it from the man's throat. A brief bloody gurgle follows, before it's effectively silenced, and you hear the sound of a body dragging across the concrete floor, landing with a soft thump.

Breathing fast, sharp little pants that make your chest ache, you keep your eyes closed and wait.

A moment later, you feel the light touch of cool metal on your swollen jaw. Opening your eyes, your heart leaps into your throat.

Leaning over you, he gently cups your face, patiently waiting for you to see him. And now, looking into those blue eyes, you wonder how on earth you could have ever been afraid, because this isn't him, he's not the Soldier.

This is your Bucky, through and through.

Reaching down to his boot, he pulls up a long knife, slipping it behind you to snap the plastic on your wrists. They feel like deadweight after being locked in that position, so he helps ease them forward, working out the aching kinks. Two quick flicks and your legs are free, and you see a minute tremble in his fingers when he returns the knife to his boot.

Kneeling before you, Bucky looks up, the penitent man with his heart on his sleeve. He swallows thickly, throat working as he gathers his courage.

"Hi," he finally whispers.

"Hey," you whisper back, voice cracking.

He sees the cuts and bruises scattered over your face, the raised welts down your arms. Reaches a tentative hand to your neck, fingers brushing over the thin line of rope burn, a broken sound rising from deep in his chest when he feels the raw texture of your skin. That sound alone is more painful than anything you've experienced, so you reach for him, cradling his face between your hands and his eyes close. Leaning into the touch, he turns to press his lips to the palm of your hand.

"You came for me," you murmur.

"I’ll always come for you," he responds, lifting blood-stained hands to cover yours, tangling your fingers together. "I love you. I love you so god damn much and I'm so sorry for everything."

Tears flood your throat at his declaration, at the heat behind his words.

"God you're such a pain in my ass Bucky Barnes, but I love you too. More than you can imagine," your voice is painfully hoarse, but his response makes each syllable worth the strain.

Speckles of blood cover one side of his face, sweat plasters strands of hair to his forehead, and there's white dust caught in the dark stubble covering his neck, but at your words, the grime and exhaustion fade away. Bucky's face lights up and his excited smile steals your breath.

"Really? Seriously?"

"Really seriously," you confirm with a smile, voice still weak but growing stronger. "Take me home Bucky."

"I will," he promises. "I'll get you out of here, I swear."

Taking your hand, he curls a warm arm around your waist and stands, lifting you carefully to your feet. Swaying at the move, you lean heavily into him and he wraps his arms around you, folding you close to his heavily padded chest.

And sure, the world may be falling to pieces outside that door, and god knows what you'll find when you leave, but in this moment, the only thing you need is the solid presence of the man surrounding you.

Comforting and stable and brimming with love, he is enough. He is everything.

Finally, reluctantly, he lets go. Stepping backward, he pulls his Glock from the holster at his back, cocks the hammer and flips it around. He presses the grip in your palm.

"Listen to me. We get out there, and I want you to shoot first, ask questions later. If you feel threatened at any point, pull the trigger, okay?"

"Okay," you agree.

"You remember everything I told you?"

It takes a moment, but you fish for the memory and reel it in, remembering that day at the Tower gun range.

"Yes. Squeeze the trigger, don't jerk. Both eyes stay open. Be ready for the recoil," you repeat.

He looks surprised but pleased at the automatic recitation. "I honestly didn't think you were paying attention that day. That was – kinda hot."

"Your face is kinda hot," you sass back instantly.

Pulling a fresh clip from his belt, Bucky snaps it into his Sig Sauer and grins. Watching his movement, you notice something new, something different.

"Hey. The blue jacket – it really did match my dress. I like it. You look really handsome in blue," you say softly, tugging his sleeve. "Sorry, I've been super behind on your compliments. Lots of catching up."

There's a blazing look on his face at your statement, and he wraps a gentle hand behind your neck and steps closer, resting his forehead against yours. Closing your eyes, you breathe each other in, a swirl of blood and death, of safety and protection.

"I love you," he murmurs the words again, reveling in the pleasure they bring.

"I love you," you answer, pressing a light kiss to his chin.

He hums at the response, giving himself one more delicious second to enjoy, before grudgingly stepping away. His voice shifts and he speaks quickly, sharing the basic intel necessary before leaving the room.

"There should be very few people left out there, I swept the majority of the lower level before I found you. There were people here, but it wasn't heavily guarded. Which makes me nervous. I don't know exactly what this place is now, but it used to be a secondary research lab. This is – it was here, where I met him. The first time."

It's clear who the him is in this scene. And while Bucky's voice is calm, you notice a flicker of confusion cross his face, and that small waver makes you want to find Jack and cut his heart out. Gripping his hands, you give him a small shake, forcing him to meet your eyes.

"Listen to me. You got out. You won. You never ever have to go back," he clings to your words, riveted by your conviction. "You came here to get me Bucky, but don't forget – I've got you too."

"I know," he agrees heatedly, pressing his lips to your knuckles. Then he shifts the chair blocking the door and squares his shoulders. "Alright, you ready?"

"Ready," you confirm. "Let's go fuck shit up."

Fingers pause on the handle and he sighs, equal parts exasperated and entertained. Glancing over, he looks like he wants to say something stern, but the serious expression melts and his shoulders shake with laughter.

"I really fucking missed you," he nudges you.

"Same," you whisper back, elbowing him in return.

Keeping one hand fisted in the smooth cloth of his jacket, you take a deep breath as he pulls open the door and steps outside.

Once in the hallway, his demeanor switches back to the man who kicked your door down only a few minutes before. He's overwhelming in this form, towering and tense, confidence in every move, so obviously capable it puts you at ease.

The corridors are eerily quiet, the tracks of fluorescent lights lining the ceiling giving off a steady buzz and the occasional flicker. The smell hits you in that moment, a strange burnt earth smell floating through halls, of gunpower and guts, and it makes your eyes water. People don't seem to talk much about what it's like on a battlefield, the visual horror and the stomach-churning smell. Now you see why.

Turning the corner, you see bodies scattered along the hall, the stench of blood a dense fog hanging heavy in the air. Bright red halos spill around surprised faces, and you see now that bullets leave very large holes. It draws your eyes with each body you pass, and your breath comes faster.

"Breathe through your mouth, not your nose," Bucky urges, his voice a grounding force as he propels you forward. "Look at me or close your eyes, okay? I won't let you fall."

"Yeah," you say weakly, turning your face toward calming blue. "Yeah, okay."

Rounding the next corner, the hall is thankfully empty of human remains. Bucky keeps his gun raised, eyes sweeping along. All seems deserted, until the whisper of rolling wood, like a closet sliding open reaches your ears and you see part of the wall begin to shift. Bucky swings around, but your finger already hovers dangerously over the trigger, and without thinking, you squeeze.

The bullet makes a solid thwack when it hits, and a body crumples to the floor.

A sickeningly familiar body in fact. One with a faded red tattoo crawling up his neck.

He groans, curling around himself, gasping as blood pumps from his abdomen. In one quick stride, Bucky is standing over the writhing body, and he stomps down, grinding his boot into the man's wrist. Screaming in pain as his bones are crushed, he drops his gun and Bucky kicks it away.

Walking slowly forward, with the smoking gun still raised, you stare down into the face of the man who's haunted your dreams for the better part of your life. Who spent the last several hours smiling while he slapped your face. While he snapped a leather strap across your arms. While he tightened a thin rope around your neck.

Who smiled the day he shot your father and took away the only person you had in the world.

Bucky's pistol feels perfect and right in your hand, as you point it at his face. Vengeance, retribution, revenge, whatever word fits, you're feeling it right now, surging adrenaline making you light-headed. Finger brushing the trigger, you steel yourself for the final shot, for the chance to end this on your terms.

The moment drags on and on, the sounds of his wet gasping the only thing in your ears.

"Come on little girl, do it!" he manages to taunt, choking on the words.

Pull the trigger. Pull the trigger. Pull the trigger.

This man killed your Dad. He tortured you. He destroyed your childhood.

Pull the fucking trigger!

Your arm begins to tremble, precious moments allotted for escape now lost as you stare down. A strangled sob suddenly breaks through and your heavy arm begins to lower. Tears fill your eyes, and you rub them furiously away, trying to raise your arm again.

And then Bucky reaches over, gently pushing the gun down. Looking at him, the tears spill over, sliding down your cheeks, dripping from the tip of your nose.

"You're not a killer," he says quietly. "Once you pull the trigger, you can't take it back. If you want to do it I'll help, but don't become something you're not, just because you think you should."

Firm and compassionate, his familiar voice shakes you out of the haze. Sniffling, you hesitate for another moment, before letting the gun relax at your side. With a deep breath, you turn away instead, snipping the strings tethering you to the survivor's guilt that's hung around your neck for so long.

Bucky nods encouragingly, and together you walk away from the bleeding man. Putting his arm around you, he pulls you in tight. Covers your ear and presses your head against his shoulder, muffling the world.

Then he raises his arm behind him and fires one quick shot.

The hallway goes quiet once more.

*****

Moments later, you turn another corner, relief palpable when you hear Bucky speak.

"We're close, there's an exit in two turns," he mutters, his body still tense, eyes wary as he tugs you along. He taps the comms in his ear, letting it go to the loudspeaker so you can hear as well. "Steve, we're near the north exit, where are you?"

Clear as a bell, Steve's voice comes through sounding annoyed. Gunfire sounds in the background and you hear the clatter of tin cans on concrete, followed by a slow hiss.

"We're coming, just – finishing something up. Apparently Nat decided this was the right time to test Stark's new gas grenades."

"Don't be lame Rogers, these guys are assholes," you hear Nat laughing in the background.

"Yeah no shit, just wondering why – ouch, god dammit – why you couldn't wait 10 seconds. Buck, we'll meet you at the rendezvous point in 10 minutes. Did you find Bernstein?"

"Negative, no sign, I think he ghosted from – "

The comms crackles and goes off. Bucky taps it impatiently, but it stays quiet.

Stark technology will not fail a second time and it takes a split second to connect the dots.

Something is happening.

Swearing fiercely, Bucky pushes you behind him, his arm keeping you pressed against his back.

"Stay against me. Do not move away," he grits out, eyes scanning the empty corridor, searching, searching, searching.

He hears the sound before he sees it happen. It raises the hair at his neck, and with sizzling burst of heat, a web of electricity blooms before you, a curtain of transparent white light. Spinning around, you find the same thing behind, a crackling fence of fire trapping you together.

"Fucking hell," Bucky hisses, eyes whipping back and forth, assessing the electric barriers. Hesitating slightly, he stretches a tentative metal finger forward.

"Bucky, don't – " the warning is still leaving your lips when his hand makes contact. The harsh zap flings his arm back.

"Dammit, I didn't think these'd still be here," he growls in frustration. His fingers curl into a hard fist, metal plates whirring as they reset after the electric shock.

Looking through the waves of energy, you can see beyond them, but there's no possibility of passing. "What are they?"

"Fry zones. Barricades to trap people," he mutters. "When a building was under attack, they were set up like alarms. Someone must have triggered them earlier, because I killed everyone else in the building."

"Well that's just awesome," you mumble, pressing close to him. Bucky turns to face you, hugging you against his chest.

"Okay, it's alright. The team are coming this way, they'll find us when we miss the rendezvous, so we just wait. Can you do that for me?"

"Yeah," your voice is muffled against the thick fabric.

Bucky leans down to press a feather-light kiss to your forehead, the barest hint of a touch. For a second, you wonder if the sound of electricity is still the walls around you, or if it's the feel of his mouth on your skin. Snuggling closer, you relax in his arms, while his hands rub long, soothing strokes up your back.

For a long, happy moment, all is well. The world is right. A bright future together is so close.

But inevitably, it doesn't last.

The measured, deliberate click of dress shoes on concrete rises above the steady hum of electricity, and Bucky's body goes rigid. His arms tighten around you, but when you raise your head, his jaw is clenched and his face is white, sweat already slicking his forehead. His eyes are fixed on something above you, beyond you, and still clasped in his arms, you slowly turn.

Jack stands on the other side of the barrier, his face flooded with desperate, hungry longing as he gazes at Bucky. He licks his lips and comes closer to the cage, and even through the thick fabric of his jacket, you feel Bucky's heart racing.

"So, here we are then. After all this, there he is," Jack breathes fervently, moving closer, unable to help himself. "I see him under there Barnes. Let him out to play. Let him come home."

Bucky lets go of you, tugging you behind him and extending both arms, widening his stance.

"Drop the barricade and let us go," he says calmly. "She has nothing to do with this."

With a snort, Jack shakes his head.

"Wrong. She has everything to do with it. It's because of her that you're even here. She's a weakness. She's your weakness, don’t you see that? You think you're in control, but she stole that from you. Look at you! Following her here like a pathetic dog. Jesus Christ, what did you do to my Soldier, you've ruined him Barnes."

"Seriously Jack, eat a dick you dramatic piece of shit," poking your head around Bucky, you try to move in front of him, but he holds you in place.

"Don't, it's not worth it," he murmurs warningly.

Jack looks amused for a moment, but it fades as he considers an idea.

"She's scrappy, I'll give her that. We could make a deal you know – give me back my Soldier and I'll let him keep her if he wants. She can be his pet, something soft and breakable to entertain him. Maybe that's what was missing before."

Bucky feels a swoop in his stomach as he considers Jack. Hearing his voice now, he's baffled how in seven hells he could have ever forgotten this man. It's so clear, so god damn obvious he wants to scream. But in the midst of that anger, Sam Wilson's voice pops in his head, and Bucky suddenly remembers the closing remarks of his first group therapy session down at the VA.

"Some things you leave behind, some you carry home. It's your decision what you need to let yourself heal."

Bucky understands it then, the choice he made. The only way he could let himself heal, to get better and move on, was to let go of the horrors in his past. Including this one.

"No deal you sick fuck," he says flatly. "Let us go or I swear to God, I'll rip you to pieces with my bare hands."

Jack shrugs at the response.

"Alright then, if that's what you want," he steps even closer to the barrier, so close you can see the gleaming white of his eyes. "I gave you a chance, so – just know that what happens next is your fault Barnes, it's all on you. I hope you remember that. In the end."

Jack reaches behind him, grasping for something in his pocket, and Bucky crouches slightly, a snarl on his face as he settles into battle stance.

When his hand reappears, Jack's holding a thick paperback book.

He smiles.

*****

Next Chapter

*****

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #safe with me

3K notes · View notes

ezragold · 7 years ago

Text

With a Little Help from My Friends

A/N: Happy last-day-of-Pegoryu-week! Let’s celebrate by reading... day 2′s prompt... No one ever said I was good at preparing things, okay. AO3 link: [here]

Day 2: First Date

Title: With a Little Help from My Friends

Rating: Teen

Summary: Ryuji has successfully asked Akira out! Now if only he could figure out something special for them to do. All of his ideas just feel like their every day routine, and he’s pulling his hair out trying to come up with a way to make it special. All of the thieves seem to have their own ideas of the perfect date, 90% of which are entirely unhelpful, as Ryuji soon realizes.

[ THURSDAY, 6:50PM ]

crossbonez is online

crossbonez has entered The Dungeon of Unspeakable Acts

crossbonez: GUYS I NEED HELP

crossbonez: ALSO WTF WHO CHANGED THE CHANNEL NAME

palette-cleanser: There’s no need to yell about it.

crossbonez: YOU CAN’T HEAR ME SMARTASS

killerqueen: Futaba renamed it and I can’t figure out how to change it back. What’s wrong?

memejed: me! muahaha!!!! you’ll never figure out how to change it back!

memejed: boo makoto types too fast :(

palette-cleanser: Futaba, naturally.

palette-cleanser: Oh.

memejed: lmaooooo

crossbonez: ok ok is akira in this chat??

yougimmethecrepes: I mean technically

yougimmethecrepes: but I think he’s had this channel muted for like a month

killerqueen: Understandable.

crossbonez: o sick

crossbonez: OK SO I ASKED HIM OUT AND I NEED ADVICE

yougimmethecrepes: OMG RYUJI

memejed: GHIDNDOSKFHSKX WHAAAAT

killerqueen: !

yougimmethecrepes: DID HE SAY YES??

palette-cleanser: My most heartfelt congratulations!

crossbonez: of course he said yes wtf guys

crossbonez: why wouldn’t he, i’m a catch

memejed: so’s a big ol slimy fish

memejed: its perspective

crossbonez: can we ban her?

killerqueen: She’s the room admin.

memejed: IM ADMIN MY CITY NOW

memejed: HECK how do u type so much faster than me????

crossbonez: OH MY GOD CAN WE FOCUS ON ME PLEASE

palette-cleanser: something tells me you wouldn’t allow us the chance to do anything different.

yougimmethecrepes: go ahead Ryuji, what’s up?

crossbonez: i didn’t think about what we should do on the date so i kinda panicked when he asked and told him i had everything taken care of but i don’t

crossbonez: ive never taken care of anything in my life

crossbonez: please help yall know im not smart

yougimmethecrepes: omg THAT’S what ur worried about??? HOE ur best friend is a dating expert. I gotchu

crossbonez: lmfao ann youve never been on a date

yougimmethecrepes: maybe not

yougimmethecrepes: but i have seen so many romcoms

crossbonez: oooooo my god Kill me

crossbonez: wait holy shit have any of you even been on a date before

crossbonez: NOW YOU ALL STOP TYPING

crossbonez: this is the worst i hate my life

yougimmethecrepes: yusuke if you say anything about painting my nude as a date i’ll block you

palette-cleanser: There was that time when Ann came to the old studio in order for me to paint her portrait.

palette-cleanser: It was already half-written when you sent that.

yougimmethecrepes: OHHH MY GOD

palette-cleanser: I didn’t want to just let the reply go to waste.

yougimmethecrepes: BLOCKED

palette-cleanser: :(

killerqueen: Okay.

killerqueen: I’ll DM you, Ryuji.

crossbonez: oh thank god

[ THURSDAY, 7:04 PM ]

[ killerqueen has sent you a message! ]

killerqueen: Firstly,

killerqueen: good for you, asking out Akira! That was really brave. How did it go, if that’s not too intrusive?

crossbonez: fine I think?? morgana kept cockblocking me but he got bored of watching us watch bad movies and left so

crossbonez: i just kinda

crossbonez: asked

crossbonez: and he said yeah

crossbonez: so now im dead and going thru w the date is my hell

killerqueen: Okay, relax. Obviously he wouldn’t have said yes to the date if he wasn’t already interested, so you already have that going for you! The worst part is done.

killerqueen: All you have to do now is think of something special for the two of you to do together.

crossbonez: yeah that’s basically the part where my brain stops

killerqueen: Fair. What’s your budget?

crossbonez: uhhhhhh

crossbonez: uhhhhhhhhhhh

killerqueen: Ryuji.

crossbonez: is free an option

killerqueen: Oh, god. Okay.

killerqueen: I didn’t realize you hadn’t planned for this in… any capacity.

crossbonez: OF COURSE I HAVENT ITS LIKE YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW ME

crossbonez: I DIDNT THINK OF THE MONEY THING OK

crossbonez: I WAS SORT OF FOCUSED ON NOT THROWING UP ON HIM AS I ASKED

killerqueen: Message received.

killerqueen: I’ll see if there’s anything cheap going on in the city this weekend.

crossbonez: thank you ugh

crossbonez: was this a bad idea

killerqueen: Asking out Akira? No, of course not.

crossbonez: sigh

killerqueen: Lying to Akira about having the entire thing prepared and planned out? Yes, without a doubt.

crossbonez: COOL THANKS MOM

crossbonez: GOD

[ crossbonez left the conversation. ]

[ THURSDAY, 7:29PM ]

[ palette-cleanser sent you a message! ]

palette-cleanser: Are you still taking advice for your date?

crossbonez: the answer is technically yes but i can’t say i’ve reached the point in my life where i’m ready to take dating advice from you

palette-cleanser: I shall try and keep my advice more general, then.

crossbonez: just don’t say the word beauty

palette-cleanser: You should consider the benefit of surrounding yourselves with beautiful things. I can only imagine a relationship increasing in intensity when the couple is surrounded by overwhelming beauty.

palette-cleanser: In my defense, my reply was half-written when you posted yours.

crossbonez: what the hell would overwhelming beauty even be man

crossbonez: am i sposed to find out which flower gives him boners like what am i doing here

palette-cleanser: that is up to you! And Akira, I suppose.

palette-cleanser: I was, of course, referring to your beautiful surroundings being up to you. Akira getting an erection is less-so in your hands.

palette-cleaner: …I did not mean for that to become a double-entendre but I suppose that’s also appropriate to your situation.

crossbonez: hoo boy you are this close to my block list lemme tell ya

palette-cleanser: Please don’t, my contact list is very short as it is.

palette-cleanser: Back to the topic at hand,

crossbonez: yeah plz

palette-cleanser: What are some things that Akira finds beautiful?

crossbonez: man i don’t know

crossbonez: uhh

crossbonez: good coffee

crossbonez: big ass cheeseburgers

crossbonez: cats probably

crossbonez: hes got a risette poster in his room but i think that’s less because shes hot and more because someone gave it to him and he was too nice to throw it out

palette-cleanser: None of that sounds particularly beautiful…

crossbonez: OH WOW DOES IT NOT

crossbonez: REALLY

palette-cleanser: There is no need to raise your typeface at me.

crossbonez: sjdjcickgmsoakfb

palette-cleanser: ?

crossbonez: nothing dont worry abt it

crossbonez: im gonna go see if i can buy something beautiful for ¥200

palette-cleanser: Many beautiful things in life are free.

crossbonez: you got an example to go with that inspirational quote?

crossbonez: duuuude?

palette-cleanser: I appear to be losing connection

crossbonez: oh my god dude

palette-cleanser: I can hardly read what you’re writing

crossbonez: thats not how that would even work

crossbonez: i cant tell if ur trolling me or not

[ palette-cleanser has left the conversation. ]

[ THURSDAY, 7:49PM ]

[ yougimmethecrepes has replied to your message! ]

crossbonez: plz tell me ur just invisible

crossbonez: ur my one last hope and god is that saying something about how my standards have fallen

yougimmethecrepes: doing homework

yougimmethecrepes: you still peeing your pants over date night?

crossbonez: you still willing to give bad advice?

yougimmethecrepes: imagine me swiping all of my school work off my desk onto my floor because if my math grade didn’t ride on this I would have done that

crossbonez: aight

yougimmethecrepes: also my advice is fantastic shut up

yougimmethecrepes: okay, lets start easy. What’s the budget?

crossbonez: im in high school and not a part time model

crossbonez: my budget is negative

yougimmethecrepes: ooooh

yougimmethecrepes: got it

yougimmethecrepes: arcade? you can just use small change and stuff

crossbonez: we go there ALL THE TIME thats not a date

crossbonez: that’s like going to the ramen shop or something

yougimmethecrepes: uh……batting cages? Movie?

crossbonez: i cant ask him on a date and then just do shit we do normally! how is that a date???

yougimmethecrepes: How is it not a date?? You guys always have fun doing that, how is it less fun on a date

yougimmethecrepes: OH WAIT NO I got it

yougimmethecrepes: bathhouse

crossbonez: shut up no

yougimmethecrepes: hey, it’s not my fault you gave this absolutely no thought whatsoever

crossbonez: UGH I KNOW

crossbonez: WHY IS THIS HARD

yougimmethecrepes: I KEEP TELLING YOU THAT IT DOESN’T HAVE TO BE

yougimmethecrepes: YOU’RE MAKING THIS A PROBLEM

[ crossbonez has left the conversation. ]

[ THURSDAY, 8:25 PM ]

[ memejed sent you a message! ]

crossbonez: no

memejed: before you say anything

memejed: jdcjdjnfdkdkf

memejed: dammit how do all of you type so fast

memejed: it’s like I don’t even know myself any more

memejed: is it my tiny hands

crossbonez: i do not want dating advice from you

memejed: well then it’s a good thing I don’t have any for you then ISNT IT

memejed: I just wanted to tell you that Akira just got home and he’s smiling a lot and it’s gross and weird and most likely your fault, so

crossbonez: oh that’s

crossbonez: nice to hear thank you jhgjfyjuh

memejed: he just told sojiro about the date and sojiro offered to grab him condoms hahAHAAHAH

crossbonez: OH MY GOD

crossbonez: DONT TELL ME THAT SHIT

memejed: IM ACTUALLY GONNA CHOKE LOLLL

crossbonez: I HOPE SO

memejed: >:(

memejed: I don’t even get why youre so nervous he’s obviously out of his mind happy to go out with you

memejed: whatever you guys do he’ll be down

memejed: just don’t do any stupid shit like try and show off or act like a tool

memejed: which I realize may seem daunting for you

memejed: but I believe u may have it in you, maybe

crossbonez: I just have no idea what to do without us doing the same shit as always

memejed: whats wrong with doing the stuff you guys always do? Routine is comfy

memejed: comfort is the enemy of anxiety

memejed: well, comfy, and a good pair of sweatpants

memejed: *and valium

crossbonez: you dont think he would mind doing shit we do all the time?

memejed: oh my god are ALL boys as stupid as you??? how has the species survived for so long

memejed: just hold his hand or something and he’d let you push him in front of the subway!! Like, that probably shouldn’t be your go to option, but just

memejed: he ALREADY likes you. you don’t need to impress him or anything

memejed: consider yourself lucky, because like, idk how you swung that

crossbonez: I agree with you too much to get mad at that

crossbonez: wow

crossbonez: akira agreed to go out with me, you gave me advice that wasnt steaming dog shit

crossbonez: maybe i should buy a lottery ticket lmao

memejed: LMAO ur luck stat isn’t THAT high yet

memejed: see if sojiro comes through w the condoms first

crossbonez: okay and NOW im leaving

memejed: BE SAFE!!

[ crossbonez has left the conversation. ]

[ THURSDAY, 9:22 PM ]

[ HaruOkumura sent you a message! ]

HaruOkumura: Good, you’re still online!

crossbonez: hahaha what happened to ur screenname?

HaruOkumura: The company’s social media adviser suggested I change it for professional purposes………..

crossbonez: lame

HaruOkumura: Yes apparently ��BigBangIsPeople” is not an appropriate username for the incoming CEO of Okumura Foods.

HaruOkumura: I thought it was funny :(

HaruOkumura: But anyway! I’m glad you’re still online! Makoto texted me and told me about yours and Akira’s date and I wanted to say congratulations and I’m so happy for you!

crossbonez: thanks! tell makoto to quit snitchin tho

HaruOkumura: Will do! I just wanted to talk because Makoto said you were very stressed out and seemed sort of unprepared

crossbonez: im okay now i think

crossbonez: futaba helped me out

crossbonez: weirdly

crossbonez: i mean im still sweating all over myself and the idea of actually meeting up with akira for the date in question makes me want to gag but :) im fine

HaruOkumura: oh my :o

HaruOkumura: Have you decided what the two of you will do?

crossbonez: yeeaaahhhh i got some ideas i think?

HaruOkumura: I do as well!! Would you like to hear them?

crossbonez: hey i am always up for not thinking

HaruOkumura: That’s great!! Okay, what is your budget currently?

crossbonez: gkhskdfkjlghlrihvoirhgiu

crossbonez: kjghsiuergtiughpijiuprughtuislrhgiulth

HaruOkumura: Uhm?

crossbonez: I THINK IM GOOD LMAO THX HARU

HaruOkumura: Oh youre welcome! Let us know how it goes!

crossbonez: yeah sure if i dont die first!

[ crossbonez has left the conversation. ]

[ SATURDAY, 02:41 AM ]

[ JokersWild sent you a message! ]

JokersWild: Hey

JokersWild: I know youre probably asleep because it’s like fuck o clock in the morning and why wouldn’t you be

JokersWild: But I cant sleep because I made myself some antianxiety coffee when I got home haha

JokersWild: (futaba calls it estresso but I can’t call it that because it’s so clever it makes me mad I didn’t think of it first)

JokersWild: but I had a really good time tonight

JokersWild: and you seemed kind of worried all night so I wanted you to know that

JokersWild: and idek if you were worried because of us(?) or if there was something else going on and now I just seem like kind of an asshole for assuming it was about me

JokersWild: but whether it was or it wasn’t I had fun

JokersWild: and

JokersWild: I’m really happy you asked me out

JokersWild: and just…… you don’t need advice from anyone on how to like

JokersWild: woo me yknow?

JokersWild: I had notifications turned off but the number of messages in the group chat kept ticking up so I lurked for a second

JokersWild: I don’t know what anyone ended up telling you but you didn’t need it

JokersWild: you don’t have to impress me. I ALREADY like you.

JokersWild: so, that’s that

JokersWild: this coffee is very strong and obviously my inhibitions are non existent right now so I’m going to bed before this turns into a confession

JokersWild: or more of one

JokersWild: lets, like, do this again? I want to keep doing this with you

[ JokersWild has left the conversation. ]

[ SATURDAY, 02:54 AM ]

[ JokersWild sent you a message! ]

JokersWild: also oh my god thank you for not freaking the fuck out when that condom fell out of my jacket I SWEAR TO YOU I did not put it there and when I find out who did I am going to unmake them

JokersWild: okay goodnight

[ JokersWild has left the conversation. ]

#pegoryuweek2018 #pegoryu #akiryu #fic: criminal mischief #fandom: persona 5 #fandom: persona #p5

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nikiforlov · 7 years ago

Text

Fic Rec!

Ive read and bookmarked a bunch of fics that i particularily liked, so im sharing them now! i hope you enjoy !

* = personal favourite

Open At The Touch (6,5k)

Maybe Nishigori got ahold of a lock of Viktor's hair, and some Polyjuice potion. Maybe it's all an elaborate prank. With this as his only reasonable explanation, he steps forward, snags Viktor by his robes and tugs him in. "Nishigori," he says in Japanese, "this prank isn't funny. Your English is better than when I left, though." "Ah," says the fake Viktor Nikiforov in English, voice dipping, and is he blushing? "What was that?" "Maybe I got hit in the head by a Bludger," Yuuri muses. Viktor's smile grows ever wider, tightening at the edges. "Maybe I never came home from my international Quidditch competition. Maybe I'm lying in the hospital right now, hallucinating." There has to be an explanation, mystical and magical or medical, for the best Seeker in the Quidditch world showing up at his door; something besides his portrait, which won't stop talking to Yuuri anyway.

Coming to Terms (10k)

Victor's realization wasn’t a pinpoint. It was a culmination of years of knowing something was different. An ache without a name.

A story about Victor learning, accepting, and loving himself as a gay man.

The Tsesarevich lives! (50k)

An Anastasia AU.

Victor is an orphan with no name, no family, and no memory of a time before he was ten years old. Could he really be the missing Nikiforov heir? An adventure across Europe with two conmen will lead him to the answer.

Say I'm The One (2k)*

Viktor leans forward, the curve of his smile soft. Achingly, Yuuri’s fingers imagine what it’d be like to trace it. “You think I want to romance celebrities?” “Well, you’re a celebrity,” Yuuri feebly tries to explain. “Exactly. Now you’re just being ridiculous,” Viktor counters, smirk growing. “The one romancing a celebrity is you." Viktor and Yuuri get caught in a rainstorm on the way home from practice.

To Boldly Go (30k)*

“Yuuri!” Viktor calls. “I’ve come to rescue you!” Yuuri stares at him blankly. He gestures to the various unconscious space pirates with his recently discharged phaser. “Oh, Captain,” he deadpans. “Save me.”

Or:

A year in the life of badass science officer Yuuri Katsuki, Captain Viktor “Team Mom” Nikiforov, and simultaneously the best crew and worst crew in Starfleet history.

(No prior Star Trek knowledge needed! It’s a loose AU!)

Bestseller (20k)

Reincarnation AU. Bestselling author Yuuri Katsuki often gets asked where his source of inspiration for his novel series comes from. Yuuri always puts on his best smile and gives the generic answer. However, his minds wanders back to the old journal sitting on his desk, and the dreams of a familiar blue eyed stranger.

Have You Heard? (4k)*

According to rumors, Viktor Nikiforov had been seen crying in the E building’s staircase. No one really seemed to know what was the reason, but everyone were terribly curious about it.

Spotlight (2k)

He can't help how embarrassed he sounds as he tries to hide himself in the pillow, and Viktor's laugh is so lovely - and so helpless, so blatantly in love - that it has Yuuri squirming all over again, the wave of protectiveness stealing his breath away.

Oh, Viktor.

"I suppose that's fair, darling. I am pretty incorrigible."

He's smiling, as he says it, and his voice is light, but Yuuri knows better, now. He can hear that tiny, barely there, desperately hidden thread of self-doubt, as clearly as if Viktor were shouting it.

Am I too much?

Viktor doesn't need to say it for Yuuri to hear it. He's pretty sure Viktor's spent too long feeling like he's too much of something - too loud, too clingy, too needy - for him to just shrug it off.

Yuuri knows a little bit about self-esteem. He knows a little bit about trying to kick years of fucked up thinking. And he's damn well going to keep making sure that Viktor knows he can always be as too much as he wants to be.

You can have everything... (12,5k)

AU. Before the Grand Prix Final starts in Sochi, Yuuri finds Victor's phone. He returns it--and hijinks and heavy flirtation ensue.

Fields of Gold (14,5k)

It’s difficult to believe that he’s inspired people like this; that children and teenagers in Japan and around the world lace up their skates or put on skates for the first time and think of Yuuri Katsuki, just like they think of or thought of Victor Nikiforov. He almost can’t take it. It’s too unbelievable. He’s just… Yuuri, after all.

Yuuri Katsuki with a stack of gold medals is still just Yuuri Katsuki.

He can imagine Victor repeating the same words back to him with his own name and how he’d argue that is absolutely not the case, and he laughs inwardly a bit at that.

(The story in which Yuuri Katsuki wins everything there is to win and retires as Japan's living legend, because he's incredible and beautiful and he deserves it. Aka 'Yuuri wins all the gold', the fic.)

Puppy Love (10k)

When Yuuri gets turned into a dog, the last place he expects to end up is Victor Nikiforov's apartment. He learns quickly that the only thing worse than being his idol's pet, is watching him pine for someone else.

Warning: Makkachin has recently passed away at the start of this story.

Twenty-Five Hours (23k)

In which Yuuri spends a 25 hour flight next to Victor Nikiforov, skating legend, and feels it might simultaneously be the best and worst thing that has ever happened to him.

silver scales and golden wishing wells (13k)*

the knights fought valiantly, they have slayed the dragon

Yuuri cried from days on end... he loved that dragon

to the winner goes the gold (900)

In which Yuuri and Viktor are competing against each other in the following year's Grand Prix Final, and they're still (very much) smitten with each other.

“Skater Katsuki, anything you want to say to your fellow skaters before the competition?”

“Viktor Nikiforov,” Katsuki says, “just know that once I win gold, you’ll be doing the dishes for an entire month.”

Then he smiles again, sweet and warm, before giving a little wave and heading off through the hall.

cover story (8k)

Yuuri stares down at the person standing in the doorway. The stranger hisses, "Who do you think you are, anyways?"

Quickly, before he can really think about it, Yuuri responds, "I'm Victor's boyfriend."

It's a lie, but the words feel good in his mouth, and for some reason, he doesn't want to take them back.

Katsudon (7,5k)

Hiroko doesn’t need to see to coat pork cutlets in egg and panko. She has made this dish for her family for over thirty years; she’ll make it another thirty, if she’s lucky.

Now she makes it for Yuuri and Victor as they fly home from Barcelona, with silver around their necks and gold around their fingers.

Victor Effing Nikiforov (13k)*

AU in which Yuuri still doesn’t remember the banquet, somehow doesn’t blow Japanese Nationals, runs into Victor at the World Championships, and has absolutely no idea why his idol is suddenly friendly and incredibly handsy.

Does Yuuri care about his reasons? No. It’s Victor Effing Nikiforov.

Masks off (27k)*

And so the story goes that a playboy comes to a town, makes it fall in love with him and then proceeds to get himself enticed by the most mysterious person there.

Wait... did it really go like that?

Five Kisses (4k)

It hadn’t seemed out of the ordinary at the time. Victor had always been free with his affection; throwing out compliments, light caresses, even the occasional peck to the cheek. After a little over a week of having him as his coach, Yuuri was sure he had gotten used to it. It was just a Westerner thing, no use getting riled up if Victor wasn’t going to be stopping it anytime soon.

Then it happened.

~~~

Victor likes kissing Yuuri and Yuuri is frustratingly dense

lie to make me like you (80k)*

It’s become a game, of sorts, to anyone privy to the fact that the pattern exists in the first place: ask Victor out at the beginning of the month, date for however many days, and wait for the end to come and for Victor to say, always: I couldn’t fall in love with you. Let’s break up.

With All My Heart (52k)

Once upon a time there was a prince and if you stole his heart, you would live forever. But the prince would only have three days left.

Or: the tale of a Heartless King and a scullion.

When Life Gives You Lemons, Add Sugar (11k)

What could possibly be worse than getting stuck with a roommate you weren't expecting?

Discovering that roommate is none other than Viktor f*cking Nikiforov.

i'm just going to the store (7k)*

Accidental masked vigilante Victor Nikiforov.

Or: how Victor's impulsiveness backfires and creates one of the greatest living internet memes to ever come out of Russia.

November's Secret (233k)*

Overwhelmed with anxiety and his fear of failing, Yuuri faces the issue of if he should continue skating. His best friend, Yuko, proposes a solution - if no one knows it's you, then it's less embarrassing, right? Yuuri begins to create a completely new disguise and persona.

But it works a little too well.

Before he knows it, Yuuri has become the biggest mystery of the skating world and everyone wants to know who he is. Especially Viktor Nikiforov, the idol he's been loosely basing his new persona on for years.

Maelstrom (43,5k)

Victor Nikiforov is poised to win gold in his fifth consecutive Grand Prix Final. He has the world at his feet, is unparalleled in the sport--right up until a snowstorm blows into Sochi, and he finds himself repeating the same day over and over and over. He stumbles over Yuuri Katsuki, and everything changes.

how the mighty fall (in love) (29k)

Every Victor Nikiforov fan has three things in common. 1. They have unrealistic expectations for romance. 2. They mark their calendars with the dates of his newest book releases and the premieres of his latest movie adaptations. 3. They either passionately hate or love his greatest rival, a mysterious author whose pseudonym is only two letters: “KY.”

Allure (11k)*

Yuuri was the most powerful vampire at Hasetsu until he left for Detroit.

After his return for the first time in five years, his priority is training for the Grand Prix with Viktor. Other vampires have steadily invaded his territory, but he's not interested in reasserting his dominance too strongly…Until he catches one of them feeding on Viktor to the point of death in an alleyway.

#victuuri #viktuuri #vikturi #hfuvujcielqmf #victuri fic rec #yoi fanfic #i hope yall appreciate this #my stuff

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storiesbykatieking-blog · 6 years ago

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My Artifacts

Multimedia Project for Writing 107: Updated Version 2/6/18

By Kelsey Husted, Katie King, and Emily Thomas

Synopsis

The purpose of this particular project is to give insight into the van-life community within Isla Vista that many UCSB students aren’t familiar with. Every individual’s story and reasons are different for choosing the mobile lifestyle. The following will go through through two individuals’ distinct stories to display the diversity of those reasons.

Why this story

The relatability of making non-traditional housing choices as a young adult

Most college students don’t experience van life firsthand, making it a novel living situation; enough people in Isla Vista have heard of it and/or seen it to make them want to learn more.

People tend to enjoy stories of overcoming odds and ‘sticking it to the man’. People who live in vans are avoiding the exploitation by landlords that is so prevalent in Isla Vista.

The humor of the unconventional lifestyle and the types of stories it produces

Beginnning

Possibly start with a description of one of the main interviewees/a short anecdote ….something humorous

Introduce/Set the scene of student exploitation & describe the costs of student housing

Introduce the concept of Van Living as some students’ solution to financial need

List other reasons for van life (e.g. live in peace, alone; mobility..)

Middle

Context of modern vanlife both in and outside of Isla Vista and the benefits and drawbacks of that lifestyle

The stereotypical view of people who live in vans:

bums maybe with no goals

antisocial, unapproachable

bad hygeine

History of vanlife the ideology of vanlife

History of IV: the atmosphere, laidback collegetown

In depth stories and character development of our two main character

Ending

Ties together the connections and differences between the two stories and considers the extent to which their experiences as individuals trump the predetermined tropes and expectations of living in a van

Hanes, Kristin. “How to Downsize and Build Your Dream Home inside a Van.” City Brights: Howard Rheingold, San Francisco Chronicle, 15 Sept. 2017, http://blog.sfgate.com/stew/2017/09/17/how-to-downsize-and-build-your-dream-home-inside-a-van/.

“Camper van conversions can really run the gamut, from a luxury Sprinter Van conversion done by a company that could cost you up to $150,000, to a simple DIY cargo van conversion that will only be $1,000. The type of conversion you pick will largely have to do with budget and what type of van you want. Do you want off-road and off-grid? Do you want something that can plug into the grid at an RV park? Do you want a toilet and shower? There are so many things to consider when building out a van”

“Thomas Townsend has been running Townsend Travel Trailers out of Santa Barbara, California for two years now, and he said business is growing as more people grow interested in van life”

“‘That’s the difference between us and a DIY person. They’ll use standard home techniques and haven’t gone through the testing and applications that we have,’ he said. Also, if a van designed by Townsend is side-swiped, for example, it’s built so the interior is broken down into pieces. The van can dismantle in five hours down to bare metal if you need to get in there and fix something”

“‘Making the jump to do this was the most challenging,’ Ben said. ‘We’d been wanting to do a trip and build a van for a long time, so making that initial leap was the biggest challenge mentally. Then, it was the design. Just wanting to make sure we thought of everything.’”

As you can see, there are a lot of ways you can build out a camper van, from an ultra-luxurious custom build-out, to something cheaper that you can figure out on your own.

“Just like there’s no one way to live the van life, there’s no one way to build out your dream home”

The Vanual, Ryobi, 2016, www.thevanual.com/.

Provides an introduction to van life, a guide to determining if van life is write for you, and comprehensive instructions on how to choose a van, maintain van safety, and set up the interior of your van

“The variety of people you’ll find living and traveling in a van is wide and all-encompassing. You’ll find climbers and outdoor enthusiasts who enjoy spending as much time as possible out in nature. Former desk jockeys now doing freelance work in an ever-changing environment. Penny pinching young professionals avoiding exorbitant rent prices in the city. Newlyweds starting the new chapter of their lives together with a grand adventure. Whatever your reason, your experience of living a mobile lifestyle will differ from anyone elses. Your budget, your van, your preferences, your plan—all of these aspects will give you a bias towards what you like and dislike about the vanlife”

The negatives of vanlife

Loneliness. Even if you regard yourself as a bit of a lone wolf (as I do), the constant solitude can eventually generate feelings of loneliness. If left untreated this can easily slip into depression. The cure to this is simple: honest human connection. This could be simple small talk with the people you come in contact with during daily life or it could entail connecting with old friends and family.

Inconvenience. The simplest things you probably take for granted while living in a stationary home can take two, three, four times as long while living in a van. Almost everything requires a bit of planning and preparation. This includes using wifi, going to the bathroom, taking a shower, doing laundry, cooking and finding a place to sleep. These are the realities of the vanlife that you’ll face every single day.

Legal grey area. In many places around the US it’s frowned upon by local law enforcement to live in your vehicle. In a few cities it’s even downright illegal. However, if you follow local parking laws and are discreet, no one will know or care (more on that later).

The positives of vanlife

Freedom. The ability to go where you want when you want for as long as you want can’t be underestimated. It’s something very few of us ever get to experience during our lifetimes.

Cost-effective. After the initial conversion costs, living in a van can be quite inexpensive if you are smart about budgeting. You can live in and travel to the most beautiful places in the world for a small fraction of what others pay. The villa looking out over ocean cliffs or a beautiful snowcapped mountain? You can wake up to that same beautiful view… for free.

Simplicity. Such a small living space will force you to cut out the extraneous and superfluous out of your life. This will prove stressful at first, but you’ll soon find it to be easier and almost therapeutic as time goes on. Once you remove these nonessential items, you are left with only the things you value the most. A level of simplicity that discards distractions and encourages significance and meaning.

“There are people who’ve—out of necessity—converted their vans for only a few hundred dollars. It’s possible. For every material and tool I used there are cheaper alternatives that will shave off major money from the total cost. Alter an Ikea shelving unit instead of building custom cabinets. Use strand board instead of birch plywood. Don’t paint. Simplify your needs and requirements. These are all things that can reduce cost”

Lopez, Steve. “Living in a Parking Lot amid Santa Barbara's Wealth Is a Kind of Middle-Class Homelessness.” Los Angeles Times, Los Angeles Times, 23 Dec. 2017, www.latimes.com/local/california/la-me-lopez-safe-parking-20171224-story.html.

People of all backgrounds switched to van life in response to California’s high housing prices

“Middle-Class Homelessness”

Many people are too emotionally connected to the area to move to somewhere where rent is cheaper

“People hold open the option of leaving, but many are connected to specific places by history, family and employment connections, and they’re not quite ready to give up on a turnaround, move to a place they don’t know, and start over from scratch”

Safe Parking Program

“The clients can park after 7 p.m., but have to clear out as early as 6 a.m. The benefit is that the vehicles are no longer parked on city streets, which riles some residents and merchants. And because the lots are monitored by New Beginnings, the clients, who all go through a screening process, can at least feel safe while they sleep”

All of the people featured had economic problems from a variety of circumstances and misfortunes

“Cassie Roach, the program coordinator, said 40% of the clients are employed, 35% are seniors and 30% are disabled. Six families live in vehicles with at least one minor, and only 25% of the clients have RVs, so the others are sleeping in smaller quarters”

“Phil and Kathy asked me not to use their last names, at least partly because they already feel targeted and looked down upon for living in a vehicle”

“It gets really cold in the truck, he said, shivering. But the way he looks at it, this is temporary, and sometime after the holidays, they’ll be back indoors”

Rockland, Michael Aaron. Homes on Wheels. Rutgers University Press, 1980.

Describes the beginnings and evolution of people who live mobile lifestyles either in RVs, motorhomes, or converted vans

“There are a million Americans living full time in RVs with no other home, gypsies by choice”

Starts off from people who like to be on the move, in the 1970s, people began choosing mobile homes because housing prices skyrocketed

0 notes

novapopstar · 7 years ago

Text

Let me tell a story about true love and loss.

This is one of my favorite stories to tell. And at the same time, its one of the hardest. You don't really get second chances. But if you were able to take that second chance in something you horribly screwed up on, you would take it, wouldn't you? This is gonna sound exactly like those very cliche white boy romance movies that try to be kinda edgy, i know it does in the beginning. Ive lived long enough to know that. But she... She was everything to me. Ive lived so long feeling nothing. She brought a spark to my dead soulless empty life. She was the greatest thing that ever happened to me. Its the reason i took that second chance. She can never know i exist. It was the beginning of summer of 2015. The final day of high school. I finished the exam at least an hour and a half early. And as most 18 year olds do, i put my earbuds in at full blast and passed out at my desk without a care in the world. Im awoken by an earthquake. The worst earthquake imaginable. My name is being screeched by what i can only describe is a Pterodactyl. I pull my headphones out of my ears. "What, Kamyrn?" I am not a happy boy. "The bell rang like 15 minutes ago." Are you serious? "You...didnt wake me up sooner?" The pterodactyl shrugs. "Didnt seem like i needed to just yet." I shouldve punched him right through his ginger face. He had a pale complexion, although more color than mine, freckles on his nose and cheeks, bright green eyes and the most irish looking red hair youve ever seen. Hes actually Italian. Hes basically what you call a cinnamon roll in meme terms. "So theres a music venue happening tonig-" "Nope." I stand up quickly, fix my bangs, and throw my hood up. I tried to bee line for the door but the fucker is always faster. I do NOT do social gatherings. Hes lucky i even talked to him. "Cmon, Tyyyyy! I want you to meet my friends. Theyre playing tonight!" "You know i dont like social events. I cant handle them. Besides i have to get home an-" He grabs my arms and pleads with his eyes. "Just this once? Pleaaaase?" I sigh. I hated it when he did that. I loved him so much i could hardly say no to him most of the time. "Fine. When do we go?" "We can start heading over right now. Theyre setting up and we can watch them warm up!" "You actually seem more cheery than normal. Anything special happening tonight?" "The Goddess, Tyler!!" Of course. "The Goddess" was a girl named Diana. The love of his life. She was literally too perfect. Beautiful black flowing hair, the deepest of blue eyes, beautifully pale skin, the most perfect smile. The sight caused Kamryn to become speechless. Especially since her father was there at the venue. The venue was basically as normal as you can get i guess. Smelled of sweat and heartbreak. The colors were a mix of greys and more greys. It was a really spacious area with some dining tables and chairs. I believe there was a bar at one end of the room. And right in the back was a big stage where they kept all the equipment for the bands. Big speakers lined the sides of the stage including the top of walls for surround sound in the building. This....this was the place i met her. Kamyrn was being interrogated by Dianas father, Marcus. Kamyrn sweating profusely. I mean, i dont blame him. Marcus was ripped and that rugged look and deep voice of his was something to feel threatened about. If you can picture what a roman soldier looked like, ya got Marcus. Diana was giggling and watching Kamyrn squirm the whole time. My senses were broken when the lights dimmed down and the first show was about to start. And as if an Angel has glided across the stage, she appeared. She was the most stunning thing i had ever laid eyes one. Shoulder length chestnut hair, from afar youd think they were green but she actually had hazel eyes, she had the sweetest smile, and i cant forget the red streaks in her hair. Her voice was something of an angel. And i caught myself staring. Ive never been a believer in love at first sight, but, damn... There was no mistaking it. I had slowly began to fall for her that night. But of course, i always have something come up to ruin my moments of bliss. Heres the part where things get complicated as all hell. I finished that graduation exam an hour and a half early because, ive taken it at least 25 times by now. At least at that school. I passed with flying colors because i know all the answers a little too well. The reason is the dumbest reason you have ever heard of. Im an 182 year old, as of 2015, vampire with the body of an 18 year old. All my features resemble a scrawny emo kid. Right down to the black nails, the black eyeliner, and the black emo hair. My purple eyes are natural however. Right now im having what is called Cravings. Now listen, i do not love being a vampire. Ive been running from that life for years. So i cringe at the thought of feeding off a humans. But at this moment in time, i am in need NOW. Therefore i cannot just waltz over to the nearest bloodbank and "charm speak" my way into dinner. I had to do my best to leave the venue without causing suspicion. I keep my eyes closed as i turn to Kam, holding a hand to my head. "Kam, dude im really sorry. The whole social thing is really getting to me. I really have to head out. I do not feel well." "Im really glad you tried to make it though, Ty. Ill check in on you later okay?" I nod and make the horrible mistake of opening my eyes. Kamryn wasnt looking however. But someone else did. My eyes tend to change color depending on the need. Right now theyre clearly gold. Gold for hunger. I quickly make my way out into the alley way. I hate every second of this. The alley smells like rotting shit and cat piss. Its the least of my worries. But its all i can smell. I need that trace of blood. Now. This isnt fun for me. I hate having to walk up to an unsuspecting human and trick them into letting me feed. This woman didnt deserve it. But they dont know what theyre doing when the "charm speak" is involved. Im able to pin her to the wall at this point, shes moaning in pleasure very loudy as i sink my teeth into her neck. I want to vomit. But i swallow and keep it down. She slumps down the wall unconscious. I didnt bleed her out, i never drink enough for that to happen. I fix her body in a way that when she wakes up, she'll think she just passed out from intoxication. Poor girl.. "A vampire? Never wouldve thought." I spin around, blood sorta dripping from my chin. I had made sure i was alone. It was just Marcus. But i didnt know why Marcus would have known. "Clean yourself, boy." I dont even blink as i wipe my chin furiously. "W-why did you follow me?" "I know the actions of a vampire when they need to feed. You showed clear signs back at the venue. I also saw those eyes of yours." "Well, what do you want from me?" He smiled wide. "Youre obviously no threat if youve been living the human world for so long. You nearly looked like death feeding off that woman." I looked defeated. "I didnt have the time to make it to a bloodbank, sir." Needless to say, i was taken back to venue after it was all cleared out. Kamryn looked worried as hell when i got back. "Dude, are you okay? I thought you were going home?" I smiled weakly. "I just needed to take a walk. Marcus found me to tell me to come back so i could meet your friends." Kam flashed a big smile. "Well the only one thats still here is-" "Emma." The Angel had spoken. Kam decided that was good enough and had walked over to flirt with his goddess. "So, a vampire huh?" I blinked. "Im sorry..?" She pointed to the shoulder area of my jacket. The fact Kam never noticed still annoys me. She laughs. "Thats not really the reason. I just know." She smirked. "Ive seen a few in my day. None looked like you though. Why are you trying so hard to seem human?" I felt it was pointless at this point. "I despise vampires." "So you despise yourself?" "Precisely." "Does Kamryn know?" "He can never know." She nods in understanding. "So yeah, im Emma Grayson." She extends her arm and i shake it nervously. Her hands were always so soft. Not to mention calloused. But the best hands ive ever held. "Tyler Deravious." This Tyler didnt realize what he was getting himself into. How this meeting would change his life for the worst. You dont get a third chance. If i could turn back, i would. I cannot begin to tell you the regret i feel writing this all down. I ended up leaving my apartment that i had been illegally living in for years now and i moved into the mansion that i never knew existed in chicago. This mansion housed demon slayers. An immortal roman soldier demon slayer and his adopted daughter. I had chosen to slay demons as well. Including my kind. Things only get more complicated from here. ------------- So im thinking about writing a story out that ive had in my mind since 2015. Im not the best at writing but maybe i can get better along the way if i stick with it. I dont have a name for it yet, but heres the prototype Prologue for my most favorite story ive thought of. This story is an emotional rollercoaster. But it follows the life of Tyler Deravious, a Rogue Vampire who hates the thought of being a vampire. He becomes a demon slayer and learns what its like to have a family after so many years. Falls in love. Learns to be less awkward and more brave. He has to help defeat a great evil that threatens to destroy Chicago, and maybe the world if hes not careful. It might just turn out too much for him. Im really hoping i can do something with this. Its all original! So take my shitty prologue and give me some critiques.

#vampire #original story #no title yet #demon slayers #demon hunting #angst #prologue #rough draft #prototype #romance #action #tyler deravious #emma grayson #kamryn steelwater #marcus #loss #pain #critique me

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genesiskrps-blog · 8 years ago

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KIWI MUSIC NEWS: IDOL PROFILE SERIES !

[+ 500, -15] Wow! Jiyeon is my favorite soloist in CEL ! [+ 243, - 5] CEL is lucky to have her, aren’t they?! [+ 225, - 9] I can’t wait to see more of them - fighting!!

PROFILE !

FACECLAIM: im jinah CHARACTER NAME: han jiyeon STAGE NAME: n/a CHARACTER AGE: 25 COMPANY: CEL POSITION: solo (taeyeon) TIME WITH COMPANY: 12 years STRENGTHS: Perhaps even moreso than any outright talent, Jiyeon’s greatest strength lies in her experience, preparation, and ability to lead - her own career or others. Though her previous group has disbanded in dramatic fashion, there is very little that either CEL or her own internal coachings have not readied her for after over a decade of training. Calm, collected, eloquent, and dogged, when it comes to anything from choreography to accepting awards, Jiyeon never falters. Though Jiyeon’s voice should not be discounted, and is a genuine gem: originally scouted for the impressive nature of it as a young teenager, she has a talent that has always left every hard-nosed critic and teacher wanting to bottle and sell it. But while her voice may appeal to the critic, it’s her looks that appeal to the public, and that’s what matters to CEL – that the masses want to break off and take home a piece of her. WEAKNESSES: Her commitment to hard work can hinge on compulsive and unrealistic; her expectations for herself are perpetually too high, and she’s made herself sick on more than one occasion pushing her body too hard. Particularly with the stigma surrounding mental illness and medication in the country, Jiyeon’s careful managing of her OCD and anxiety over the years has grown harder. While in her younger years her anxiety was minimal, the more her obsessive-compulsive disorder demands of her, the worse her anxiety becomes. Though she is earnestly still young, even her age is a weakness in the ever-youthful industry that is KPOP. She has entirely no skill in rapping, and will try to refuse even attempting it on variety shows for the sake of embarrassment. Her variety appearances themselves are moderate but nothing exceptional; high ratings will arise simply from her name attached to any particular show, but she struggles with becoming goofy enough for many audiences.

BIOGRAPHY !

This is how you begin, like a start to a fairytale that should never be told, the ones with knights that never arrive and princesses that sheath their own hair with the tooth of the dragon keeping them.

i. she could claim a birth of immaculate conception because for all that her father is not there, it’s imaginable that jiyeon’s birth came from her mother and something she dreamed up. maybe in that story she would be a girl born from a peony mid-winter, shaking white limbs unfurling like petals - in that tale, jina might have come out fully formed, dressed in long raven hair, singing a sweet tune to welcome herself into the world. but in this one, the one we have now, she is as raw and young as the rest of the babes that take their first breath screaming.

ii. her mother loves her enough for two, and that’s good, because some nights they survived on love alone - she parceled out pieces of her heart when there was not enough food, serving it out on a silver platter to her only daughter and wiping her mouth when she done. when jiyeon is old enough she offers her soul in return, breaking it in half and half and half to hand back, and in this way she is also holy. this is the body and the spirit, the bread and the wine.

iii. it’s not as bad as it might seem. their house is full of laughter and love and the magic that comes from one night onlys, but in this home every night is one night for someone, so this is what jiyeon is weaned on. her mother’s business is a success because she knows how to make a home, even if it means sharing her own: so here, the young girl meets honeymooners and old lovers and older souls, and like a ritual they turn to her mother every night, drunk on good food and warmth to say: what a beautiful girl. what a serious child.

and when she plays, they say nothing at all.

(they are too busy listening).

iv. it’s starts as much a duty as anything else: changing the sheets, putting new flowers on the table, bringing breakfast in bed to the new lovers with a late checkout – and then performance. her delicate frame on the bench in the morning and at night, fingers fluttering across black and white keys like they never learned how not to fly. her voice comes with it.

like so many other things, jiyeon’s mother had been the first one to teach it to her, cupping her tiny hands beneath hers as she held her child in her lap and played melodies. jiyeon loves it, and so she sacrifices. like every great queen, she bows her head and picks up the weight of a kingdom so that her kin can have more; lessons on tuesdays and thursdays, a shining black thing sitting in the living room by next christmas.

she loves it, it’s true; jiyeon does it for herself. but she also do it for her. because even while she is young, young lady is only a term of convenience. she was always a lady first, young only by circumstance.

v. everything happens at once. that’s the way it is with genuine surprises, the swing of one act to the next, the gate of destiny’s door vaulting open and knocking over objects in the room with its sudden wind. he’s only another customer when he comes in the door, albeit he is fixed with a soju-eyed stare and half a suit (no more, no less) that could buy and sell the roof and walls around them. a funny man, unsure of where he is before he sleeps and unhappy with the location when he awakes – he grumbles into his coffee and wears his sunglasses inside, rubbing his temples as he makes phone calls at the breakfast table.

she plays for him, like any other day.

he breaks his glasses when she start to sing. they fall right off his nose, and jiyeon stops to pick them up. she says sorry as your fingers smudge the lenses.

he only smiles.

then makes another phone call.

vi. he’s a mouthful, that’s what han jiyeon learns. he’s got a too-important job at a too-big place with too-famous people, and shae can barely get her jaw around it all. but she does, because she has always been a sensible girl, and she’s got strong bones, teeth, stomach. he brings her into the center of the room with a hand on your shoulder, ready to exchange her for her weight in gold in front of a room of god-men hidden behind their desks.

they place her on the scales, pull of the veil and open her mouth -

and rejoice when she tips the whole thing over.

v. but they deal in the glory, she is still left to the grit and gore. in the first year, she is younger than most of the lot, and they look for a reason to hate her. they whisper about favouritism - they see the man with the half-suit and broken glasses smile at the girl with ivory-etched features and take her high head and upright chin as a sign that she hasn’t been forced to work to the marrow with them.

when that is over, she grows too beautiful for her own good. it is not her fault; none of it is. but if jiyeon were to live this life over again luckier, she would do well not to be so lovely. perhaps then he never would have seen her. men come for the girl in packs, their tails hidden up their jackets and their fangs tucked away as they try to paw at her. no one tells her beware of men, no one hands out a red cape to get through the woods unharmed, and so this is a lesson she learns the hard way, heart-first. he is the king of the country and he reaches down to pluck jiyeon from the crowd like he is a god. she thinks he might be. at the same time, they start to call her royalty, and with this man pressing to her back, she think she might just be a princess. she is ready for it, but too young for him.

everything breaks apart at the same time.

vi. it takes almost half jiyeon’s life to finally have one.

she hides her mind away and swallows her pain in the name of perfection. it makes her ache from the inside out, and she is starting to twitch.

some men mistake her beauty as consumability, and they try to lick the salt off her neck without permission.

there is more of jiyeon in this building than anyone else: she has left more behind, shed more skin and sweat, turned these rooms into walls that spit out her dna. it’s a decade of uncertainty, hard work that feels like a snake eating its own tail.

she is still young when she makes the cut for the group of the generation, the collaboration of luck and talent that brings her to the forefront of a nation, but it doesn’t feel like it.

it’s a chemical madness, what arises, though like all things chemical the brewing takes time. a year of the average, and then the spectacular bursts across the sky: beautiful multicolour fireworks: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight.

it’s all flash, flash, flash, cameras rolling, people screaming. the charts are topped and then toppled over. the critics are harsh and the crowds are adoring. they’re legends, these girls. they remake the music scene, but by the law of the world it remakes them also. and after years, after a meteoric rise, it comes to pass that jiyeon is the star that’s meant to post itself the highest in the night sky.

her time comes.

vii. it’s the best fucking thing she’ll ever do.

#gs:app #gs:cel #gs:solo #gs:rxyclty

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