bucky barnes!
send me a character you can see me playing || accepting || @kidfrombrccklyn
remembering hurts. it’s a hot, white blinding pain pulsing in his head that seems to only get worse. there are flashes of colors, a quick smile, a laugh. it’s overwhelming and this time there’s no one to push them back. no one to stop the madness inside his mind.
he’s been on his own for a month now and it’s the longest in years. surviving is something he knows how to do but living? living is different. it’s hard and terrifying, the action made worse by having no idea who he even is. the man, steve, had called him bucky. and it’d terrified him for how familiar it’d felt (( THAT BELONGS TO YOU! )). the name came from his lips over and over and inside his mind was screaming at him. trying to tell him something but it was just out of reach.
writing things down have helped. it helps him make sense of the flashes and the sounds that come to him. sometimes it’s dreams, sometimes it’s odd reminders in the way the sun sets or a flock of overhead geese. pieces randomly given to him with no clues or context.
last night, he remembers a name.
Rebecca.
he doesn’t know what it means but he knows it means something special to him. he’d heard a mother calling for her daughter when sadness (( GOD HE COULD STILL FEEL SADNESS??)) hit him. a longing for someone but who. Rebecca. He misses Rebecca. But who the hell is that? And why? She must have been special, the longing for her something akin to the strange longing for the man he’d saved just a few weeks ago.
there was some peace in that now. he’d visited a museum, had seen an ad for a display on the steve guy and decided to check it out. to see what, if anything, could be learned to make sense of his internal turmoil. he hadn’t been prepared for what he found once there. hadn’t been prepared to see his own face staring back at him. to see him and this steve in such close quarters. (( FRIEND. )) staring at himself among the faces of the other stirred up a rage in him. as he walked the museum, it only became clearer that those who he’d worked for (( BEEN OWNED BY )) had known. they must have. they couldn’t have not known and they’d asked him to……?
there were so many questions and very few he doubted he’d get answers to. at least not anytime soon. he’s on the move, hiding out and keeping himself away from trouble. right now, he’s in denmark. it’s a sleepy, quiet town and he doesn’t get bothered. no one recognizes him. it’s safe. at least for a while. at least until he can get his mind straight, whatever that means.
some things come surprisingly natural to him like….kindness. he’s never needed to be kind but he finds it much nicer and easier than any of the roles he’s had in the last few decades. it feels like him. so maybe that’s a clue? maybe bucky is a kind guy (( HOW TRAGIC. THEY TURNED KINDNESS TO A KILLER )). it’s easy to him.
like now, he’s in the park writing down his dream from the night before. he’s in a drafty room with another male. that male is much smaller but there’s something peaceful about it. there’s nothing happening. just the two of them. in the dream, he gets up to open a window while the other sips on tea and as soon as he turns to look out the window, he falls and he keeps falling towards endless white. then he wakes. he knows it means something and he’s close to a word when a ball hits his leg. looking up, he sees two small children staring at him bashfully.
a small smile and he gently tosses the ball back to them feeling a strange warmth. “Vær forsigtig. Det kan du tabe.” the girl nods and catches the ball running off with the other child and he can’t help but shake his head. he’d lost plenty of balls in th-wait, what. summer. new york. just catch this one time, steve! a miss. in the road. don’t tell my mom. he blinks in confusion knowing that was a memory. knowing that was something he’d lost and regain and yet…it was still frustrating. how old was he? that was steve but he’s so….small. even for being a child he’s too small. is this really a memory? frowning, he flips to a blank page and scribbles it down before it’s lost once more.