#i need to double over and take a fucking breather here dude are you KIDDING MEEEE
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hickey's knife super interesting for obvious reasons, but also have you guys ever see some of the other knifes that got fashioned / salvaged from the wrecks.... especially the inuit-made ones....
like these are very beautiful to MEEEEE
#especially the ulu knife being made from a recycled goldner tin...... i could cry....#native tool to skin animals/slice food into portions being crafted from the metal that held poisoned sour food that killed the imperialists#i need to double over and take a fucking breather here dude are you KIDDING MEEEE#the terror
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Clarity
Clarity
Chapter 5: Selling
Summery: She skipped her session for a break, while he skipped his for a breather.
Bucky x Blind Reader
“Are you sure...?” Mothers voice was out of tune, she was hesitant, out of the blue I suggested she lets me find a hobby and work the second she came to pick me up from my meeting.
“Without a doubt,” I stringed my confidence in a wave. She would surly let me do this, plus it’s an extra paycheck in the house.
“Why after four years-“
“Because the support group made me realize that my blindness isn’t my handicap.” I know lying was bad, and it was slowly eating at my insides making my guts wrench and my blood feel dirty. “A guy, Henry, he recently got a job and I thought if he could, why couldn’t I?” My smile must have been convincing, because she let the subject drop, but her uneven breathing made me think otherwise.
And it took us to get in the living room of our home for her to spread the news like mornings butter over toast. Her voice was... cheery, I didn’t know if I should hate her or love her? Hate her, for she’s favorable over the fact I’ve accepted my blindness, or love her for letting me prove my mystery man wrong.
With that pleasant note, brother and father were asking many questions, like what exactly was I interested in? It’s not like we see many blind people working on a daily basis. Non the less, I suggested an art group, maybe even reading a book for kids, I could memorize the words by heart the night before and read the kids while flipping the page. I loved both, and honestly going to the library on Friday early and having to stay longer was pretty much my cup of coffee.
Plus they pay, not that much, but it’s decent. Brother was excited, he suggested taking me this Monday to the library to get that under control. Father, he was mostly quite, but the atmosphere around him was, light, and beautiful. I didn’t understand what I was missing until today, because today was- and I could almost say maybe- as great when I first met my mystery man.
“We’ll get everything done before this Friday so right after the support group you could stay at the library and read the kids a book, hopefully that wouldn’t tire you out,” Brother spoke, “I’ll come from work early to pick you up and see you on your first day-“
“No, that won’t be necessary-“
And that metal bucket of ice...? Yah, down my spine in mere seconds.
“Brother really- I feel shy enough as it is.” He laughed, and father joined, and mothers silent but humorous chuckles filled the void.
“Ohh, remember when we said that to dad when he wanted to take us down to our class in fifth grade?” Brother remembered, fathers boisterous chuckle turned into a cough, and yet, everything about this Friday afternoon was, absolutely perfect.
And Saturday came, Brother was called in for work later in the day, saying something about last minute ‘charity case’. The division had sent the wrong files down and the whole system was pushed back a few days. So brother, who he let slip, is one of the big guns with Tony Stark.
“Why did he call you and not his receptionist?”
He didn’t answer me, instead he just grumbled about how I ask to much questions for my own good. That sparked a literal light in my heart. I had forgotten about my mystery man because of this whole me getting a job thing. Oh man, I really wish I can get a job before Friday, I want my mystery man to be proud.
Brother had asked around his work about a art section that is hiring, someone called Maria, she had suggested a nice art group halfway around town that pay for people to help around, I think he said they paint and need inspiration.
Whatever the heck that means, if I could get past the groups leader then that means they would paint ‘me’ for money. Cash, because they don’t know exactly for how long they would want to keep drawing me. Apparently they don’t stay long enough with one human body to have a good paying system. Or a stable one that is. Non the less, he was a bit skeptical, saying that they could put me in weird places and whatever. But I brushed it off and begged him to let me explore.
So he agreed, albeit a bit annoyed. He says something over the lines of ‘who exactly have you been hanging around with,’ followed quietly by ‘your tong has gotten long.’ Whatever. I like to think my mystery man is a good influence to me.
Mother and father were the ones I need to convince, so I begged and begged and practically sat on my knees stringing facts as to why Brother should leave that small tidbit about my body for art.
Monday came and instead of shooting for the library, I was heading to the meeting across town to see the art group.
Mother and father were practically gushing over the idea of me helping kids draw... oh boy, brother and I sent the wrong message but whatever.
“How confident with your body are you-“
“She’s not standing nude, buddy.”
“That pays less, but I mean, how flexible are you?” The man sat across us asked, his keyboard clicking, and pen smudging stuff around his paper. “We’ll be drawing you for our portfolios ma’am, some of the guys and girls here are sending their applications to prestigious Ivy schools.” He commented, his pen making a clicking sound as if he’s very nervous. “We can’t have you back down on us all when one guy or girl asks you to do a pose and your uncomfortable.”
“It’s fine,”
“Some of the students might want a one on one schedule- that pays double the amount and in most cases, students would pay anything to have a mural for only them to draw, makes their chances of applying more competitive.” The guys explained. I was head over heels, and holding onto brothers hand was my way of telling him to just accept.
We came out that afternoon smiling and chatting, my work starts early tomorrow. So brother had to drop me off before speeding back to Starks empire.
We came home around one or two and the house was empty, mother and father were at work and just as brother dropped me off he was called into work, he suggested taking me with him, that it wouldn’t take that long, but I didn’t want to see my mystery man and scare him off.
I didn’t know if I should or shouldn’t.
Should I call him and tell him, or should I just wait until Friday for the good news.
It’s not like it’s late or anything, plus everyone won’t be back until the sun would set. While debating with my self I had already grabbed my phone and held the home button waiting for Siri.
And I asked her. And she called. And I waited. And three rings after he picked up.
“Hello?” His gruff voice was surprised. I think he gave me his personal phone and not work phone. Non the less, I was scared to talk to him. “Hello?” He repeated a bit angry this time, other voices were on the other end, but I pushed through.
“Hi,”
It was literally silent for about a minute. Mystery man was probably moving aside because shuffling could be heard from a distance, as well as people shouting around orders.
“I’m sorry, are you busy?” I asked, suddenly breaking the silence.
“Yes,” his sudden reply threw me off. I knew I shouldn’t have called. Damn him. “Are you not coming Friday?” He questioned. Already anticipating why I called.
Oh god, I would hate to correct him- “Actually, it’s something else, but it can wait-“
“It can’t wait anymore, because I went outside.” Oh god, please, please don’t make him get angry with me for harassing his phone number.
“I just wanted to tell you I got a job. I start tomorrow!” I exclaimed.
He sighed. I know that sigh, mother always sports it when I say or do something wrong. So that gesture is always linked with a bad feeling, a very bad felling of a lecture coming on.
“What’s your job?” His tone was... light? Damn, I’m blind not deaf. So why does it feel like I’m both at this second?
“I’m a pice for art-“
“Your selling your body?” His reply cut me off, if his tone of voice was light a second ago it’s normal edginess is back hard core. “Those students would rip your body for all its flaws-“
“I don’t have flaws-“
“Your hairline is very uneven, you have freckles dotting your cheeks, your nostrils are not the same size, and your eyebrows are crooked.” He shamelessly stated. “You have flaws just like me, but to those students your practically ugly-“
“I’m not ugly-“
“I know your not, but to them you are-“ He was shouting now, basically hollering in the receiver. “Some of the kids there would sell your body to a third party, imagine your face sitting in the living room of some dude-“
“Why are you angry?” I didn’t mean to say it, and I most defiantly didn’t mean for my voice to crack or hiccup while on the phone with him.
“Your fucking useless, instead of finding a good job you degrade your body by selling it-“
“I don’t want to talk to you-“ I interrupt, he had broken my spirit by a mere second. I was over cloud nine just yesterday. I couldn’t even sleep, because I was very excited. And now I feel like I want to puke out everything and anything.
“Of course you don’t because you don’t want to hear the truth. Go sell your fucking body, why not just try out for a stripper on your way down, I can assure you they pay good for a hoe.”
“I’m not a hoe!” I shout ending the call.
First day on my job... damn.
Mother woke up early, making Brother and I breakfast, I was told by Jimmy, the art group leader, to not eat a lot so I won’t be bloated. So I just ate a little here and there, while brother practically scarfed down everything.
His excuse...? “Tony won’t let anyone out of his sight, and was practically eating Steve and his buddy Bucky alive for ruing a mission.” He said everyone is very tense and angry around the compound. Brother said that Tony even gave him a talk about coming in a second late to work. So he’s dropping me off very early.
So, we drove and he dropped me off. I met the students there and they were very pleased that I made it this early, so they begun their suggestions. I was standing in the middle of everyone, for hours on end. Until lunch came rolling around and everyone scattered off.
“You have nice freckles.” His voice was distant. Yet there. And he sounded small, very authoritative.
“Thank you,”
“Would you mind if I drew you in private?” The man asked, his voice was like jade, “Nothing personal just your face, no makeup. I want to put it in my office.” He explained, “I just like the way you look.” He answered truthfully.
I nodded, and asked for the specific times, he wanted it to be tomorrow around noon, “I’ll see you there,” He whispered.
“I’ll see you too Steve.”
I went home that day with cash in my hand. The guy said something about five hundred. But I didn’t care, I wanted to prove my mystery man wrong.
Wednesday. I called brother while he was at work to come pick me up and drop me off at the center. His call was rushed but he tried to act as if he was listening to me.
Brother pulled through. He did. I asked if his boss was angry but brother said that he still hasn’t taken his lunch break and this would count as his today.
I apologized yah, and begged him to get something decent in his stomach. He said of course.
I was dropped off early, and I walked in with the help of my old click clank metal rod.
Steve was a gem. And absolute diamond in the world. He begged me to wear my old glasses even if I was blind. I wish I could see his face, his smile must have rivaled the sun. Because he was so giddy I came in without an once of make up on.
“This won’t take long I promise.”
And yet it did.
At some point Steve asked me if I was enjoying myself. And I blushed. Just waving him off, having him hum a song had me cracking a smile every now and then. But he would quickly stop so I won’t change my face.
He was very specific about my stance. He wanted my face neutral. He said I had a nice face and, he wanted me to look in the distance. Just be natural.
He quickly took that back with an apology saying that he didn’t mean to offend me, but he just meant that don’t do any facial expressions. And I didn’t.
I forgot how I looked, but I begged him to get me a copy of that so I can I have it hung over my dresser.
He must be good at something considering he’s taken up almost half my day. And suggesting that I sit right next to him with my knees practically glued to his. I would even feel his breath fan my face a few times, the guy really wants details.
Not that it bothered me, he would ask questions and I would answer. And I would ask questions and he would answer. Oh god, if only my mystery man would open up to me. If only he would just be a bit nice.
Right away, that damped my expression, I knew I had a fat off look with my mouth creasing and brows breaking into a thread. I haven’t talked to him since he called me a hoe- the worst part is that he didn’t even text or call or tried to do anything. I wonder if he’s even coming on Friday.
“Hey-“ Steve called. I snapped out of it and tried to return to being neutral. But he chuckled softly. Placing his warm wet fingers over my thigh. (Probably paint) “I want to continue this Tomorrow- is that fine?”
I wanted to apologize, because I thought it was because of me- that I didn’t hold my stance the way he wanted me to. But he was quick to catch on and hurriedly explained that- while I looked great, he saw it was metal challenging. Plus work called him.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Thursday- dammit! I forgot!
I completely forgot today was a Thursday!
I came back from Steve very tired. I went to sleep right away and woke up for dinner. Mother and father were singing jolly tunes around the house and Brother was impressed with the amount of cash I brought in just two days.
“Are you going to tell Henry about your job?”
For a second there I was confused as hell- who the fuck is Henry!
“-your support group sweetheart-“ she further explained. And I almost chocked on my food.
“Maybe,” I answered. How could I have forgotten...?
Steve... damn Steve. That man might just be the death of her, he was quite the distraction today. And he was quite good at it too.
“You should sweetheart, so the others can be inspired just like you were!”
Brother and father agreed. And their chatters continued around the table, while I was praying to god my mystery man would come, and have some sense knocked into him for saying what he said.
Tomorrow...
A/N:
Omg it’s been years you guys!
I’m in collage and I love myself! Collage is so fun and I’m excited and classes are a blast! You guys! I love collage! (Lol wish me luck tho) next chapter coming soon :$ also credit goes to the owner for that art. But that’s how I imagine Steve drawing the reader.
I’ll tag people soon and edit my draft. I just wanted to put something up.
#bucky barnes x reader#bucky x reader#bucky#Bucky Barnes#james bucky barnes#bucky bucky bucky#sebastian stan imagine#the winter solider imagine#Imagine the avengers#captain america imagine#marvel#Marvel Studios#marvel imagine#marvel masterlist#Sebastian Stan#sebaseba#imagine sebastian stan#sebastian stan x reader#james buchanan barnes#james#james buchaa#Clarity Bucky X Reader
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Reborn (Flash Fiction May 2017)
“You lost man?” Victor looked up to see who had spoken, and nearly fell back. Standing in front of him was six feet of lanky punk. He had to crane his neck to see her face. She towered over him, her hair spiked a mile high into a neon pink mohawk.
“Dude? Are. You. Lost?” The girl repeated, clipping each word. “You realize you’re in line for the No Life concert, right?”
“Yes.” Victor could barely get it out, choking on his nerves.
The girl was smiling now, less intimidating than just a moment ago. Victor was still too scared to look her in the eye. He tried staring at her boots, but then he imagined what all those spikes could do, and decided to look at his own beat up Chuck’s instead.
The girl looked him up and down, sizing him up. He was obviously out of place in a plain t-shirt and khaki shorts.
“What on Earth are you doing here dude? You look like you’d be more at home at Comic Con, church camp, something. Anything but here really.”
“Probably.” Victor continued looking at his shoes while he explained himself to the girl, trying not to think about all the Marvel posters he had hanging up in his room. He told the girl, whose name he learned was Laura, he had been trying to find a story for the school newspaper when he found an ad for the show and thought he would check it out.
“So…You just decided to come out to a punk show all by yourself?”
“I don’t really have any friends I could have asked. I had to sneak out just so my mom wouldn’t offer to come.” Laura laughed at that, remembering her first concert. She hadn’t been alone, but she had snuck out so her mom couldn’t ask questions.
“That takes balls kid,” Laura said as she playfully punched him in the shoulder. “You’ve got me now though.”
“What? Really?” This threw a wrench in Victor’s plans to just stand on the sidelines and watch. He had always been more of an observer than a willing participant.
“Your first show can be a tough one, you’ll need some help.” Laura smiled at him, as intimidating as she was at first glance, her smile was strangely calming to Victor. Knowing that he wouldn’t have to survive this alone, also allowed his heart to slow down to something closer to a regular rate. “You’re lucky this place is even still open,” Victor gave the girl a quizzical look, “the punk scene is dying dude. Fewer and fewer bands play. Fewer people come out. It’s fucking capitalism man, kills everything good.”
They waited outside the building mostly in silence. From the outside, it could have been any warehouse plopped on the outskirts of downtown. The marquee and old show flyers pasted all over the front were the only things that really made it stand out.
Laura turned to Victor once the line started to move. “You don’t have any knives or anything on you, do you? When we get to the front they’re gonna check us both.” She had spewed it all out so fast that Victor could barely keep up, but he understood the gist and nodded that he didn’t have anything on him. “Security didn’t used to be this tight. It used to be you could just walk straight in, enjoy the show. Then one day a metal-head decided to pick a fight with a crusty and got stabbed. Now everyone gets checked. Thoroughly.”
Victor tried not to let his shock and confusion show. He had a vague idea of what a metal-head was. They had their own table in the cafeteria at school, and they pretty much kept to themselves. What the hell is a crusty though? He decided he could ask Laura about it later.
They made their way through security with no problems and proceeded to a sketchy looking man with a full beard, and beer belly. He scanned Laura’s ticket and then motioned for her to go through the double doors that led into the venue.
Victor fumbled in his pockets, having somehow managed to lose his ticket in his mad dash to get everything back in his pockets. Finally, he found it in his back pocket, unfolded it, and handed it to the man. He too was motioned through the double doors.
As he entered the building a thudding bassline hit Victor square in the chest. He thought for a moment that maybe the band had already started playing. When he caught up with Laura, and they rounded the corner though, there was no one on the stage. There were a couple guitars, mic stands, and a drum kit surrounded by more amps and monitors than Victor could count. Laura pulled him over to a spot about 10 feet back from the left side of the stage. She kept quiet while Victor took a moment to take it all in.
He looked all around him, failing to combat the complete sensory overload that was overtaking him. Another song came over the PA system, less intense than the first, but still just as loud. He thought he vaguely recognized the singer’s voice.
The room itself was fairly plain. The walls black, though you could barely see them for all the flyers and graffiti. The tile floors were covered in various stains, and were chipped away in places exposing the concrete beneath.
Victor looked up and noticed the balcony spanning the back of the venue. A few people were filling in the barstools that were set out, but in the dead center there was a solitary older man, dressed much like Laura. She noticed Victor staring, and decided to give him a bit of insight.
“That’s Johnny Spleen,” she had to yell over the speakers. “He’s the guy that owns this place. He made some money in his band, Tiger Spleen, and came back here to jumpstart the city’s music scene.” Laura waved up at the man and he nodded back. She turned her attention back to Victor, “he’s a cool dude. He comes to every show the venue puts on. He’s the one that makes sure everything goes smoothly.” Victor just nodded, still too overwhelmed to say anything. The two stood in silence as the venue filled up. Laura talked to a few people as they passed by, but spared Victor any awkward introductions.
Finally, the lights cut out and the crowd erupts into a jumping, shouting mass. Four shadows come out onto the stage and get their instruments ready. Spotlights erupt on the figures. They nod to each other and the drummer counts them in. They launch into the first song without a word, the stage exploding with light as they do.
Victor’s breath catches in his chest with every beat of the kick drum. Personal space doesn’t exist as the people around him dance and jump in response to the band on stage. He isn’t sure what to do. Too awkward and unsure of himself, Victor slightly nods his head to the beat and watches. Laura is still beside him, jumping in place, screaming at the top of her lungs, fists in the air, totally uninhibited.
Around him, Victor could see puffs of smoke rising toward the metal ceiling. The whole room was beginning to develop a strange, unpleasant odor that Victor guessed was a mixture of pot and sweat.
To their right, a ring of people surround a mostly empty patch of dance floor. The few people still inside the circle are running into each other, pushing each other. Fists are flying in every direction, but even though they’re beating each other up they seem to be having the time of their lives. The people on the perimeter of this spectacle push back every time someone gets too close to the edge, keeping the madness at least somewhat contained.
“It’s called a mosh pit. Lots of fun, little painful though.” Laura leaned in to yell into Victor’s ear. Mosh pit wasn’t a completely foreign term to him, but he had never seen one up close.
Before he knew what was happening Laura grabbed him by the arm and was pulling him into the circle. “What the f--,” his words were cut off as a two-hundred-pound brute rammed into him, knocking him to the floor. Victor tasted blood. The guy stopped long enough to pick him up like a rag doll before continuing his journey of insanity around the pit.
Victor looked around and saw Laura across the pit from him, just as care-free as ever as she slammed her body into a wall of people. Victor worked up his nerves and jumped in head first. If he felt awkward standing on the sidelines, it was nothing compared to how he felt now. His movements felt robotic and he had to fight the urge to apologize to everyone he ran into.
The longer he was in the mosh pit, the freer he felt. All his loneliness, all his insecurities seemed to melt away with every bit of contact. He was hot, and sweating, and the whole pit smelled like a locker room. He actually began to enjoy himself. By the end of the song he was laughing as he bounced off the other people.
The music stopped, and everyone took a breather while the band’s front man went on about the state of the government and the capitalist pigs that really ran the country. Victor bent over, hands on his knees trying to catch his breath. He was already sore, and trying to think up a story to explain the bruises to his mom when Laura walked over to him. “Come on kid, let me buy you a drink.”
“I’m only 18, I can’t drink.”
“You can when you’ve got a twenty-one-year-old buying for you. Just stay a little ways back from the bar so it doesn’t look too suspicious.” Victor followed her to a pillar supporting the balcony where she told him to wait. Victor came back to his senses as she walked back over to him, beers in hand.
“Why did you pull me in?” By now the music had started back and he had to yell to be heard.
“Well you sure as hell weren’t going to jump in yourself, someone had to give you some…encouragement.”
“I could have died!” Victor knew that he was being dramatic, but he wanted to make her feel at least a little bit bad about what she had done.
“You weren’t in any real danger. It wouldn’t have been a real punk show for you if you hadn’t gotten in a mosh pit. It’s one of the most fundamentally punk things at a concert for fuck’s sake.”
Victor, for the first time in a long time, felt at peace. No one in the building had been out to hurt him, or ridicule him, everyone was there to enjoy the music and just let go.
“So are you gonna come back?”
“Only if I get to throw you in the mosh pit next time,” the smiled at each other and he knew that he had found his place. “Also, what the hell is a crusty?”
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