James Buchanan "Bucky" Barnes (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
anotheroldsoldier) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
riverviewlogs2017-04-22 11:21 am
anotheroldsoldier) wrote in riverviewlogs2017-04-22 11:21 am
[open] gonna live my life like i'm gonna die young
who: Bucky Barnes [616] and YOU
what: Catch-all for fireflies stuff and misc. If you want a specific prompt, hit me up at![[plurk.com profile]](https://plurk.com/favicon.ico)
nekky
when: Next to last week of April and into May
where: Various
warnings: None atm.
[OOC NOTE: Bucky is out of the city on a mission from April 23-29, returning on the 29th. Any other date in April or May is fine. For the fireflies prompts, if you want red/lust, please hit me up on plurk or discord (nekky#8210) first, and it's only open to 21+ characters who already have positive cr with Bucky.]
[Parking Garage, Any Date]
[Apparently, Bucky has done enough that when his motorcycle came through the portal, the guards brought it down to the parking structure beneath the housing building and left him a glowing note with the keys. He's pleased, despite himself. It means he doesn't have to save up for one from this place, and if he's honest, he's fond of this particular bike.
It's gleaming cherry red and chrome, the frame a bit vintage - it's an Indian brand, likely a Scout model, but it's clearly had a lot of work and upkeep done on it, and plenty of upgrades. He's got it parked in a space near the wall, and two helmets hung on hooks nearby it, which he'd had to purchase in Riverview. Not that he usually wears one. He lives on the edge.
In the early afternoons, or the evenings, if he isn't on patrol with the Guard, he can be found in the parking garage, knelt down on the concrete in thrift store jeans and an oil-stained white t-shirt, working on his baby. He always seems to be in a good mood at these times, occasionally even humming something under his breath, or playing the radio at a reasonable volume on something that sounds like classic rock.]
[Pest Control Service]
[Despite being part of Search and Rescue specifically, Bucky works with the general Perimeter Guard often. It gives him more to do; he's always happy to get out and get to work. While other teams handle the docile behemoth, Bucky enlists to deal with the suddenly aggressive six-limbed creatures whose homes have been disturbed.
Considering the well-camouflaged nature of the creatures, he's chosen not to go out as Captain America, instead wearing clothes more typical of the Perimeter Guard to blend in better in the jungle. He still carries the shield on his back, and a rifle in his hands, not to mention the handgun at his hip, the knife attached to his thigh, the smaller knife in his boot... etc.
Trekking through the underbrush, he turns to his companion on this little trip and says lowly,] Keep your ears peeled. There was a group of them spotted in this area.
[A Gym Near Communal Housing, Early Mornings]
[Bucky likes this gym best out of the few nearby that he's tried. It's on the way to the Perimeter Guard HQ, near enough to the communal housing building, and blessedly quiet in the mornings. He gets up early to go running with Steve or Yuri, and then he hits the gym before work, which is usually about empty. What he works on depends on the day.
Today, the knuckles of his right hand are wrapped, and he's been training on the punching bag, working through a series of rapid, efficient punches and kicks. His fists pound against the vinyl of the bag hard, over and over, pummeling it without worrying about holding back. He's strong, and not just because of the gleaming metal arm, visible since he's wearing a sweat-drenched tank top instead of sleeves.
Eventually, though, the left fist punches a hole through it, and it sadly leaks sand onto the mat. He sinks back onto his ass on the mats, running his fingers through his sweaty hair.] Fuck me.
[Floor 5 Balcony, Any Date]
[Sometimes in the evenings, he hangs out on the deck with a beer, watching the sun sink below the horizon and the stars start to come out. The sky is different out here; occasionally he still looks for Earth's moon before he remembers that this isn't his galaxy and they're on a moon already. The ball in the sky is an unfamiliar planet in the distance. He picks out constellations with a beer in his hand, feet kicked up as he lounges on a deck chair, and he's usually amenable to someone joining him in these quiet moments.]
[Fireflies, Any Date]
[In May, Bucky's routine remains much the same. He gets up painfully early to run, he goes to the gym, makes breakfast on Floor 5, he goes to work with the Perimeter Guard. He goes out on patrols sometimes. He brings back dinner or he cooks himself (and whoever else might be around) something in the evenings. He sits on the deck in the evenings, or he watches a bit of TV in the shared living room. He grocery shops and walks around the city on his days off, stopping in to whatever shop looks interesting. It leaves plenty of time out of the apartment to be bitten by the strange insects.
RED: Lust is unlikely, as he has a low sex drive on a good day. When bitten by a red firefly, he's more quick to anger, and that scrappy teenager he used to be comes out - he'll fight anybody. Make sure you know what you're getting into.
ORANGE: The biggest change is probably when one of these has gotten pincers into him. Where normally he's taciturn and keeps his secrets with deft avoidance, he'll be more honest, more willing to just sit and talk.
YELLOW: Anxiety is more common than outright fear, and it manifests with a big dose of paranoia. He's warier, cagier, with the watchful eye of a soldier. He's a little more obvious about checking entrances and exits, looking for escape routes.
GREEN: His jealousy tends to be a quiet thing, and can manifest over just about anything.
BLUE: Grief is something he has in spades already. Blue firefly bites take a while to go away, for him. He grows melancholy and self-hating, tending to sequester himself away from others to ruminate on his guilt. He also drinks heavily to escape the feeling. Maybe you run into him while he's on his way to a sad drunkenness.
VIOLET: Bucky's affection is also a quiet thing. He's more likely to touch, and he's surprisingly gentle. He's more likely to smile, and laugh. But his touches stay generally platonic and friendly.
These are pretty vague so feel free to start something anywhere, or hit me up on plurk or discord to plot something specific!]
what: Catch-all for fireflies stuff and misc. If you want a specific prompt, hit me up at
when: Next to last week of April and into May
where: Various
warnings: None atm.
[OOC NOTE: Bucky is out of the city on a mission from April 23-29, returning on the 29th. Any other date in April or May is fine. For the fireflies prompts, if you want red/lust, please hit me up on plurk or discord (nekky#8210) first, and it's only open to 21+ characters who already have positive cr with Bucky.]
[Parking Garage, Any Date]
[Apparently, Bucky has done enough that when his motorcycle came through the portal, the guards brought it down to the parking structure beneath the housing building and left him a glowing note with the keys. He's pleased, despite himself. It means he doesn't have to save up for one from this place, and if he's honest, he's fond of this particular bike.
It's gleaming cherry red and chrome, the frame a bit vintage - it's an Indian brand, likely a Scout model, but it's clearly had a lot of work and upkeep done on it, and plenty of upgrades. He's got it parked in a space near the wall, and two helmets hung on hooks nearby it, which he'd had to purchase in Riverview. Not that he usually wears one. He lives on the edge.
In the early afternoons, or the evenings, if he isn't on patrol with the Guard, he can be found in the parking garage, knelt down on the concrete in thrift store jeans and an oil-stained white t-shirt, working on his baby. He always seems to be in a good mood at these times, occasionally even humming something under his breath, or playing the radio at a reasonable volume on something that sounds like classic rock.]
[Pest Control Service]
[Despite being part of Search and Rescue specifically, Bucky works with the general Perimeter Guard often. It gives him more to do; he's always happy to get out and get to work. While other teams handle the docile behemoth, Bucky enlists to deal with the suddenly aggressive six-limbed creatures whose homes have been disturbed.
Considering the well-camouflaged nature of the creatures, he's chosen not to go out as Captain America, instead wearing clothes more typical of the Perimeter Guard to blend in better in the jungle. He still carries the shield on his back, and a rifle in his hands, not to mention the handgun at his hip, the knife attached to his thigh, the smaller knife in his boot... etc.
Trekking through the underbrush, he turns to his companion on this little trip and says lowly,] Keep your ears peeled. There was a group of them spotted in this area.
[A Gym Near Communal Housing, Early Mornings]
[Bucky likes this gym best out of the few nearby that he's tried. It's on the way to the Perimeter Guard HQ, near enough to the communal housing building, and blessedly quiet in the mornings. He gets up early to go running with Steve or Yuri, and then he hits the gym before work, which is usually about empty. What he works on depends on the day.
Today, the knuckles of his right hand are wrapped, and he's been training on the punching bag, working through a series of rapid, efficient punches and kicks. His fists pound against the vinyl of the bag hard, over and over, pummeling it without worrying about holding back. He's strong, and not just because of the gleaming metal arm, visible since he's wearing a sweat-drenched tank top instead of sleeves.
Eventually, though, the left fist punches a hole through it, and it sadly leaks sand onto the mat. He sinks back onto his ass on the mats, running his fingers through his sweaty hair.] Fuck me.
[Floor 5 Balcony, Any Date]
[Sometimes in the evenings, he hangs out on the deck with a beer, watching the sun sink below the horizon and the stars start to come out. The sky is different out here; occasionally he still looks for Earth's moon before he remembers that this isn't his galaxy and they're on a moon already. The ball in the sky is an unfamiliar planet in the distance. He picks out constellations with a beer in his hand, feet kicked up as he lounges on a deck chair, and he's usually amenable to someone joining him in these quiet moments.]
[Fireflies, Any Date]
[In May, Bucky's routine remains much the same. He gets up painfully early to run, he goes to the gym, makes breakfast on Floor 5, he goes to work with the Perimeter Guard. He goes out on patrols sometimes. He brings back dinner or he cooks himself (and whoever else might be around) something in the evenings. He sits on the deck in the evenings, or he watches a bit of TV in the shared living room. He grocery shops and walks around the city on his days off, stopping in to whatever shop looks interesting. It leaves plenty of time out of the apartment to be bitten by the strange insects.
RED: Lust is unlikely, as he has a low sex drive on a good day. When bitten by a red firefly, he's more quick to anger, and that scrappy teenager he used to be comes out - he'll fight anybody. Make sure you know what you're getting into.
ORANGE: The biggest change is probably when one of these has gotten pincers into him. Where normally he's taciturn and keeps his secrets with deft avoidance, he'll be more honest, more willing to just sit and talk.
YELLOW: Anxiety is more common than outright fear, and it manifests with a big dose of paranoia. He's warier, cagier, with the watchful eye of a soldier. He's a little more obvious about checking entrances and exits, looking for escape routes.
GREEN: His jealousy tends to be a quiet thing, and can manifest over just about anything.
BLUE: Grief is something he has in spades already. Blue firefly bites take a while to go away, for him. He grows melancholy and self-hating, tending to sequester himself away from others to ruminate on his guilt. He also drinks heavily to escape the feeling. Maybe you run into him while he's on his way to a sad drunkenness.
VIOLET: Bucky's affection is also a quiet thing. He's more likely to touch, and he's surprisingly gentle. He's more likely to smile, and laugh. But his touches stay generally platonic and friendly.
These are pretty vague so feel free to start something anywhere, or hit me up on plurk or discord to plot something specific!]
no subject
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[Oh, right, too much shrink talk.]
I know this is what you feel like you wanna do, but it's goddamn shitty for you, and it won't make you feel any better.
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[And there it is, the first kernel of self-loathing, bared to the world.] You're not my mom, Sam. I can handle my own shit.
no subject
Here's some non-psychobabble for you: you might wanna play wounded martyr and sulk, and that's understandable. But you got friends who don't wanna see you like this, people who want to help 'cause they care about you. Maybe you aren't good company, but man, friends understand that. They don't care that you got the attitude of a badger with a pinecone up its ass, they'll still let you inflict your charming personality on them.
no subject
[Bucky stands up abruptly, the legs of his bar stool clattering a bit. He's digging for his wallet to get his card, to pay his tab.] Call it sulking all you want. You have no idea who I am or what I've been through.
no subject
[Sam holds his hands up in a conciliatory gesture.] Sorry, I didn't mean to make it sound like you haven't been through some pretty heavy shit. I'm not making light of your experiences, promise. I just think there's a better way to handle it.
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What do you want me to do Sam? This has worked just fine for me for the last few years. I'm fine. [He waves a hand as if to wave away his concerns, his tongue loosened by alcohol, or he wouldn't say this,] Or at least it's better than it used to be.
no subject
[And that's why there are mornings when Sam's already out there before the rest of them, well before the sun rises.]
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-You have any hobbies, Bucky? [Because, honestly, he'd only suggested shooting because he doesn't know enough about the man to know what he might actually want to do. (In retrospect, it's an awful suggestion that he's kicking himself for after that reaction.]
no subject
Yeah. I punch neo-Nazis and terrorists. Good news is I haven't found any of those here. [He has no hobbies, unless you count teaching Yuri self-defense.]
no subject
[He's not surprised by the answer. Superheroes don't exactly get a lot of down time, don't have the luxury of things like hobbies. It's fucked up, in Sam's opinion, but nobody asked him.]
I mean, seriously, that's the best advice I can give you. Find something to do - something productive, something where you create things instead of destroying them. Something that'll occupy your mind when it's like this, so you don't have to crawl into the bottom of a bottle.
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Destroyin' things is all I've ever done, Sam, that's half the problem, ain't it? It just sounds like you want me to find another distraction that ain't gonna drown my liver. I'm telling you, though, my liver's fine.
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[Sam just shrugs. Might be that Bucky thinks that superheroing is a penance for his past, something he has to do to atone for the decades spent as the Winter Soldier. Or maybe he thinks that he's the more destructive one of the pair, the darker one, and that Steve's the good one. He's not going to voice any half-formed theories, though.]
Find something to do to keep your mind off of the past, that's all I'm saying. Or else it'll just keep dragging you down. It's not your liver I'm worried about, Bucky, it's your mind. And I know you think that sounds like a bunch of bullshit, but, man, I see similar stuff all the time.
no subject
[He closes off again, an obvious shuttering of his expression.] If there's anythin' wrong with my mind, it's the shit that was done to me. You think it's dragging me down? I function. I do good things now. You don't get to judge my life.
no subject
Because this? [Sam gestures at the bar around them.] This isn't functioning, Bucky, even if it's only for a night. And yeah, it's real good that you can live a normal life, I'm not trying to take that away from you. Hell, I wouldn't be able to if I'd experienced half of what you have. [And he doesn't even know a fraction of it.] But you gotta be realistic about the bad times, too.
cw talk of past suicidal ideation
Isn't a therapist supposed to get to know somebody before they start in on the shrink-talk? [His tone is cutting, lashing out.] I'm doing better, you know. I haven't felt like putting a bullet in my head in months.
You see me drinking once and you say I ain't coping right. Isn't that judgement?
no subject
All right. So what makes you feel like doing this? [Or like putting a bullet in your head, his tone implies.]
no subject
Nothing. Everything. [He leans his head into his hands, closing his eyes, trying to fight off the wave of sadness that threatens to drown him.] I just miss her.
no subject
Her. Her who?
[Sorry, Bucky, Sam doesn't know.]
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Natasha. Natalia.
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Must've been...unpleasant when you saw the other one, then.
[An understatement, although he doesn't know just how unpleasant it really was. He just knows that his Natasha is, well, prickly.]
no subject
His lip curls, and the look is entirely unpleasant.] Yeah. That's a word for it. [She had reacted badly to him carrying the shield, had reacted badly to his attempt to explain. Luckily it didn't escalate to a physical fight.]