(no subject)
Aug. 3rd, 2021 04:44 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
semi_stableIt’s been a long time since Bucky has been to any sort of family cookout. Nearly 80 years, in fact, since before Prospect Park went from a place where people gathered to a place that housed supplies for a war that took so much. It took Bucky, and it took Steve, and so many others who weren’t able to come back.
The cake that sits on the passenger seat, with Bucky reaching out one hand to hold it steady, would have been a delicacy back then. Now he isn’t sure that it will be enough, but going into grocery stores these days kind of makes him go into sensory overload, so he grabbed the first thing that looked acceptable and bolted. He can’t show up empty-handed. Sam would never let him hear the end of it.
He’s in high spirits as he navigates his rented truck through the outskirts of Atlanta, windows down as the hot, muggy air blows through his hair. He isn’t sure that he’s felt this good since those days back in Prospect Park, with Steve rolling his eyes at him as Bucky called out to the girls that passed by. Respectfully, of course.
Usually, Bucky doesn’t look forward to crowds of people, especially one where everyone will know who he is and might ask questions, but he’s excited for this. He’s tapping his fingers to the beat of the music, and tipping his head back to feel the sun on his skin.
That’s probably when he should have known that things were about to go haywire.
He parks his truck and looks out to see a party in full swing, slipping on his sunglasses and scooping up his cake. One deep breath, and then he opens the door and steps out, ready to be greeted by Sam or his nephews or their beautiful mother, or whoever might approach him.
Except no one does, because all he does is blink and suddenly, he isn’t in Atlanta anymore. Instead of a party on the water, he’s at the edge of a park, with the sun setting instead of being high in the sky.
“What the hell?” He blinks again, and then swallows hard as he feels a brief flare of panic. Bucky knows what it feels like to lose time, and to wake up somewhere else, but this isn’t that. No one can do that to him anymore, and no time has passed. He still has the cake in his hand, and his back and thighs are still warm from the leather seats in the truck that is no longer there.
Bucky sighs and then closes his eyes, reaching up with his metallic hand to pinch the bridge of his nose.
Fantastic.
The cake that sits on the passenger seat, with Bucky reaching out one hand to hold it steady, would have been a delicacy back then. Now he isn’t sure that it will be enough, but going into grocery stores these days kind of makes him go into sensory overload, so he grabbed the first thing that looked acceptable and bolted. He can’t show up empty-handed. Sam would never let him hear the end of it.
He’s in high spirits as he navigates his rented truck through the outskirts of Atlanta, windows down as the hot, muggy air blows through his hair. He isn’t sure that he’s felt this good since those days back in Prospect Park, with Steve rolling his eyes at him as Bucky called out to the girls that passed by. Respectfully, of course.
Usually, Bucky doesn’t look forward to crowds of people, especially one where everyone will know who he is and might ask questions, but he’s excited for this. He’s tapping his fingers to the beat of the music, and tipping his head back to feel the sun on his skin.
That’s probably when he should have known that things were about to go haywire.
He parks his truck and looks out to see a party in full swing, slipping on his sunglasses and scooping up his cake. One deep breath, and then he opens the door and steps out, ready to be greeted by Sam or his nephews or their beautiful mother, or whoever might approach him.
Except no one does, because all he does is blink and suddenly, he isn’t in Atlanta anymore. Instead of a party on the water, he’s at the edge of a park, with the sun setting instead of being high in the sky.
“What the hell?” He blinks again, and then swallows hard as he feels a brief flare of panic. Bucky knows what it feels like to lose time, and to wake up somewhere else, but this isn’t that. No one can do that to him anymore, and no time has passed. He still has the cake in his hand, and his back and thighs are still warm from the leather seats in the truck that is no longer there.
Bucky sighs and then closes his eyes, reaching up with his metallic hand to pinch the bridge of his nose.
Fantastic.
no subject
Date: 2021-08-25 09:47 pm (UTC)“It was 2023 a few minutes ago,” he says irritably, glancing down at the hyena before looking around again. When she speaks again, Bucky’s gaze snaps back to her. “The thing I’m talking about is when half the universe was emptied out. But that was five years ago. Or, well—three, I guess. By your math. But what do you mean?”
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Date: 2021-08-30 03:35 am (UTC)I could tell he was losing patience, but it wasn't my fault that he was talking nonsense.
"Look, pal, I showed up here just like you did, and it did a whammy on my concept of time, too. But whatever you're talking about? It didn't happen here. Or where I came from. We had a little blip where a bunch of the natives from this place went poof, but it only lasted a few weeks. They're back, weird as ever."
I shrugged.
"I think people are calling this a pocket universe, but I'm pretty sure that's just an attempt at slapping a clever label on it, without knowing a lick about theoretical physics."
no subject
Date: 2021-09-07 03:37 am (UTC)"Okay, fine. Pocket universe," he says, choosing to focus on that instead of their talk about blips, which is just gonna send them in circles. "I've got questions. Like how. That's a big one. Why is bigger? What are we supposed to do?"
The hyena seems to sense his growing agitation, so Bucky just sighs helplessly and lets his non-prosthetic arm drop to the side, while the other keeps holding up this fucking cake. "I just-- I had somewhere to be."
no subject
Date: 2021-09-11 02:31 am (UTC)Yeah, I knew how absolutely bonkers that was, and I knew that maybe Cass was better off without me, but still. I missed the grubby little thief.
"Anyway, I can't answer your questions. Nobody can, far as I can tell. We're just little ants trapped in a maze. They give us cash and a roof over our heads to keep us docile, I think. Or maybe they actually give a shit about a bunch of dimensional transplants living homeless on the streets. Who knows."
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Date: 2021-09-19 08:35 am (UTC)"Is there an orientation for new prisoners, or something?" He asks after a long moment, after he's swallowed the anger down and lifted his head again. "Where am I supposed to go to get this stuff? This is all just so--"
He makes a frustrated expression and then pulls his arm back as if he's about to throw the cake, and then decides better of it and brings it back down slowly, letting out an irritated huff instead.
"I'm not sure how to properly express my anger at my current situation," he grits out, which makes him feel like he's talking to his therapist. He probably learned it from her.
no subject
Date: 2021-09-24 01:29 am (UTC)I shrugged. I wasn't all that sorry.
"Oh! You could go to the junkyard and break shit. That's what I do, sometimes, when there aren't any faces to break. Since I'm trying to be all on the up and up. Technically, it's trespassing, but it's a victimless crime."
no subject
Date: 2021-09-27 09:13 pm (UTC)"Train station first, then. If you're willing," Bucky tells her, because while he can probably find it on his own, he might as well try and get it over with. He turns away and then pauses, clenching his jaw as he turns to look at her, holding up one metal finger. "And then maybe we can talk about breaking shit."