Bucky Barnes
23 May 2015 @ 06:23 pm
[Open Spam, throughout port]

[Going into port would have been a difficult enough decision for Bucky if Steve wasn't in a coma, but the fact that he is just made it harder. Leaving him alone on the ship, especially after how weird and bad things had been getting lately feels weird, but staying and watching over him feels like something he shouldn't be allowed to do anymore, so eventually, it just gets easier to leave. If nothing else, it'll give him the space he's been looking for.

Even if for most of port, Bucky winds up hanging out with Helena. They hit up nice enough restaurants, but bakeries and food carts wind up being more popular. Neither one of them is really the kind of person you'd want in a five star restaurant anymore - Helena's got terrible table manners and Bucky still doesn't really like dealing with, looking at or talking to people - so it's easier when they're out in the open, or don't have to stick around once they've got their food.

One priority is going shopping for clothes, because all Bucky's got on board the ship are old army uniforms he doesn't deserve to wear anymore and he can't just keep stealing stuff from Steve's closet. Hiding his arm is still a priority, and he's not really sure what to think of some of the more modern stuff, but he gets jeans and sneakers and some other stuff, sort of grateful he doesn't know how many Euros are equivalent to a dollar in 1945 because he's never spent this much money on anything before.

At night, he can't sleep and wanders the city, not paying much attention to where he's going or what he's doing. The city's a lot different from how it was in 1944, and 1974, and whenever else he's been here, but it's easy enough to navigate. He stops a mugging almost without thinking about it the third night they're in port and sends way too much time at the Arc de Triomphe staring at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier the day after.]
Bucky Barnes
03 May 2015 @ 02:36 pm
[Bucky's been avoiding announcing that he's back, and that he remembers. He's still uncomfortable being out in public with people staring at him, even though he has been out more than he had been when he first got back. Morgana cut his hair, and he's showering and shaving regularly, so he looks a little more like himself (except he's not wearing combat uniforms, and he's still covering up his left arm with long sleeves and a glove), but there's still something tense and on edge about him, something hollow and dead in his expression.

But something about Arthas' announcement, his manifesto, that because he's been wronged he's allowed to take this ship and everyone on it down with him makes something stir in him, something that sounds like Zola's saw and the hiss of the cryo pod and Pierce slapping him in the face, and it's hot and cold and angry, and he doesn't want to keep hiding. But he also doesn't know how to reconcile the idea that this is happening because wardens failed, because the system failed, and those people are long gone.

There's a lot he should probably say about himself, too, but Steve's already covered it. Everyone knows what happened, and there's a part of him that's still angry about that.]

i'm back. dillon and jean made me remember.

i'm still a warden.
[Even if he's not sure he should be.] it's been a long time, for me.

[A really, really long time.]

[Filtered to Mickey, Jimmy, Stiles, Kira, Mason, Ben, Lydia, and Motorcycle Boy]


[For not remembering, or weirding them out. He probably owes them more of an explanation as well, but he can't find the words of it any more than he could for the rest of the ship.]

[Private to Dillon and Jean]


[Warden Filter]

who's taking responsibility for arthas?
Bucky Barnes
21 April 2015 @ 05:18 pm
[Closed Spam]

Read more... )

[Open Spam]

[So he sets out onto the ship. He remembers the Admiral - it doesn't bother him that he doesn't remember what he looked like, or exactly what he'd said, he's been given a mission and he's going to fulfill it - and he remembers the helicarriers, remembers failing, remembers the inexplicable surge of terror and guilt at Captain America's - Steve Rogers, the museum said his name was Steven Grant Rogers - last words and the equally inexplicable relief he'd felt when the badly injured man had started breathing again on the shore of the polluted river. But the rest of it is still... not there. Blurry.

It gets worse the more he walks around. He's still wearing the jacket, shirt and jeans, the sleeve covering his left arm, and he keeps his hands shoved in the pockets to further prevent anyone noticing. The baseball cap's still tugged down over his dirty, too long hair as well, shielding his eyes a little as he tries to get his bearings, exploring what parts of the ship he has access to, trying to attract as little attention as possible.

(People are staring at him. No one at the museum had paid him much attention, not even as he stared at his own face blown up huge in black and white, but here, people are staring at him, and it makes him want to vanish. He hunches in on himself, and tries not to meet their curious eyes.)

The Admiral had said he'd been here before. He doesn't remember. This isn't like any facility or place he remembers, not at all, but at the same time, the more he looks, the more he feels some horrible sense that he's been here before, the same, strange feeling he'd had staring at the photo of his own face starting to settle in his gut.

He feels bad. Not injured, but... Ill. Compromised.

He takes a seat in the dining hall in the corner, with his back to the wall, holding a mug of coffee in his human hand, but not drinking it, even though his stomach complains to be filled with something. The lights flickering as he walks through the halls don't bother him, but he stops to inspect some of the lingering signs of violence and death that still stain the walls, crouching, leaning in close, and frowning.

The infirmary is avoided entirely, and he spends a long time on deck, watching the stars.

Something about them seems different. He doesn't like it.]

[Spam for Morgana, after he's got his memories back]

[It's all too much. Way too much. So he - Bucky, James Buchanan Barnes - runs, because he doesn't have a choice. He can't stay there, can't talk about it, doesn't know what to fucking do, because there's no where to hide on a cruise ship of the damned where someone won't be able to find you.

He can't go back to his room. Steve will find him there, or Helena, or Ben, or someone else, and he can't face them right now. Can't face any of them, and he feels more trapped and boxed in and terrified than he's ever been, overwhelmed by the weight of memory and the years he's suddenly got crushing down on him.

Some combination of conscious thought and instinct has him standing outside a familiar door, knocking anxiously, wondering if this is just as much of a mistake as the rest of this was. But how could he have known? What the fuck is the Admiral's problem?]

[ooc: Dillon and Jean are going to pounce him and give him his memories back, but until then, enjoy your new and improved brainwashed assassin in recovery, Barge.]
Bucky Barnes
18 March 2015 @ 08:41 pm
[Voice, backdated to March 17]

[Bucky leaves T'Pol's body where it is. He wipes his knife on his pants, an automatic gesture that leaves another green smear of blood on his soaked uniform, and after staring at her for a moment, he walks downstairs to sit with Steve's corpse. And sits.

Maybe ten minutes later, he clicks on his communicator.]

Steve's dead.

[Bucky's voice is hollow. There's anger there, but it's smothered by the numbness he feels, the strange unreality of it all.

(It's being instinctively self protective, withdrawing instead of thinking about it. He doesn't want to think about what she'd tried to do to him, or what happened to Steve, so shutting down helps him focus. Keeps him from just staying sitting on the floor next to Steve.)]

So's T'Pol.

[The silence stretches for several seconds, even though he doesn't kill the connection.]

I need someone to take her to the infirmary. She's on deck. [I stabbed her, he thinks but doesn't say, because he can still feel her hands on his face and her thoughts on his, and he's got Steve's blood on his clothes and even though it's a more than familiar sensation, he thinks he's going to be sick.] I've got him.

[Open Spam, March 17th through 19th]

[The first thing Bucky does after bringing Steve to the infirmary is go to the inmate showers, strip off his bloody combat uniform, and stand under water that's so hot, it's almost scalding. He's practically catatonic, mouth drawn into a thin line as he just stands motionless under the hot, steaming water.

He turns up in the infirmary an hour or so later, sitting similarly motionlessly by Steve's bedside in a fresh uniform. He's got the shield next to him, clean now and leaning against the chair he's rooted himself to. He's largely unresponsive, even if people talk to him - or more accurately, his responses are just delayed, like he's shut out pretty much everything but the person in the bed in front of him - and he's got a mean five o'clock shadow going at some point. Hunger starts gnawing at him at some point, but for the first time in a really long time - maybe since the last time Steve was really, really sick - he totally ignores it. Even after the late shift starts, he doesn't move to leave. He doesn't even sleep.

(His thoughts feel sharp and brittle, like they had after Zola had been finished with him for the day and he'd been thrown back into a cell to sleep. Or try to sleep. It feels like what T'Pol had tried to do ripped a bandage off a wound that hadn't healed, and he doesn't want to fucking deal with it.)

But once Steve's up and around, Bucky vanishes. He's not in any of his usual haunts, not on the network, nowhere really.

(Thank god he's still got C-Rations in his room. 8v)]
Bucky Barnes
28 February 2015 @ 10:45 pm
[Filtered to Friends*]

I got a couple clips of ammo, a knife and about a dozen chocolate bars [yes, the horrible D-Ration ones] in my jacket if anyone needs food. I'm not sure if we should trust the stuff here or not. What do we know so far? Anyone found drinkable water?

[Private to Helena]

Where are you?

[Open Spam for the Opera House]


[ooc: One friendly conversation rule applies to the filter, if you think you count, you do. c8]
Bucky Barnes
16 February 2015 @ 02:02 am
[Open Spam, backdated to the start of the breach]

[Stepping back inside the Shatterdome feels like coming home, only to discover a different family's moved in, or everything you've known has been destroyed in a fire, or flood, or some other natural disaster, and Bucky - James Rogers, copilot of the Jaeger First Avenger, who'd been ripped out of the cockpit by a Kaiju eight months ago and presumed dead even after his body had never washed up - finds himself suddenly wishing he'd never returned.

It's an entirely irrational thought, borne of sudden unease and a throbbing headache along the line of scar tissue from the head wound he'd suffered in the incident, which might be more psychosomatic than not. But Helena's still here, and she doesn't look like she's about to bolt, so he does his best to just ignore the intense feelings that he doesn't belong here anymore, not after he's been crippled, not when he still has issues with memory. They're already making noises about putting him back in the cockpit, and what if he can't?

The one thing he'd asked when they'd first made contact was that he didn't want them telling Steve anything until he got here. At least it looks like they'd followed through on that much.

He and Helena take the rest of the afternoon to reacquaint themselves and get their bearings, and Bucky does his best to avoid drawing attention to himself, or get recognized. It sort of works - he's not clean shaven, his hair's longer, he's missing an arm and he's got a baseball cap tugged down low over his eyes - but as he wanders around the mess hall and the hangers, he realizes he's started to look specifically for friends and old acquaintances, even if he's still not sure coming back here was a good idea at all.

(And, really, he's looking for Steve.)]

[Spam for Helena]

[Part of him definitely thinks this is moving too fast. They've both only been here for a couple hours, really, barely two days, and they already want him testing out if he's able to drift again? If Helena is? What if they're not?

But the other part of him's so desperate for something normal, to just pretend like the incident didn't happen and he didn't spend months in a hospital and isn't totally fucked for the rest of his stupid life just sitting on the sidelines letting other people do his job, and so he agrees. Yeah. Sure. Let's do this, let's see how it goes, and if it's a fucking disaster, at least he'll know.

So he chokes down whatever frustration or nerves he's got roiling in him and finishes suiting up. He's getting better at doing things like this all right handed, glancing over at Helena when it's done.]

Are you sure about this?
Bucky Barnes
06 February 2015 @ 08:22 pm
This is Sergeant James Barnes, with the Strategic Scientific Reserve. If there're any girls from back home waiting on letters from me, sorry I haven't written more often. Kinda hard when you're stuck in outer space.

[Hey, it's true.]

Anyone seen the halfpint in tights pretending to be me around this time?

[Filtered Away from Helena]

And if there's a Sarah Manning around, or anyone who knows her, kinda wouldn't mind hearing from you, too.

[ooc: Friendly reminder for no Winter Soldier spoilers! Anything else is fair game. c:]
Bucky Barnes
05 January 2015 @ 05:34 pm
[Bucky's in the Enclosure with the collar of his dark blue Commandos jacket turned up against the wind and his M1 slung over one shoulder. The forest the Enclosure's generated for him is dense, coniferous and foggy, with plenty of snow on the ground, and looks somewhere between beautiful and a little spooky.]

I'm Sergeant James Barnes, everyone calls me Bucky. I was with the US Army and then the Strategic Scientific Reserve during the Second World War, I'm a warden here, and I run a training camp to get people in shape in case the Admiral throws us into a situation you can't talk yourself out of. Since we got some new arrivals, I figured it might be worth mentioning again.

This week, we're gonna be focusing on surviving when you're stuck in the open with a foot of snow on the ground and more on the way. Better you figure out how to avoid frostbite and trench foot now and not when we get dumped on some shitty alien planet in our pajamas.

Any inmates who're interested need the permission of their wardens before they can train with or handle any weapons, but the basic survival stuff's open to anyone who wants to learn. Or brush up on anything you learned in Boy Scouts.

[He grins, and it's definitely more wry than it's not.]

So long as you're willing to get up early and follow instructions.

[Filtered to Helena's Known Friends & Acquaintances]

Helena's in a coma again. Same deal as last time: if you wanna come visit, I'll let you in her room, and I'll let you back out again when you're done. Anyone tries anything funny, and I can promise, you'll wish you hadn't.

[If not from Bucky, then from her. Because seriously.

But really, probably best not to take your chances with him, either.]
Bucky Barnes
17 December 2014 @ 05:50 pm
[Bucky's on deck, in the snow, wearing his Howling Commandos uniform and looking cold, but not miserably uncomfortable. His rifle's slung over one shoulder - you can see the strap - and he runs a hand through his hair briefly before speaking, shaking the snow out.]

You know, this is my fourth Christmas away from home. [And while there's definitely something kind of wistful in his expression and voice as he says it, he also doesn't seem especially broken up by it. This is more an observation than whining.] Three years ago I was in Africa, two years ago I was in London while we were putting together the Commandos, and last year, I was freezing my ass off in Bastogne.

[It comes out a little like a joke, but obviously it's not quite actually funny. You had to be there? Humor's the only way to really deal with some of this fucked up shit?]

Most everyone thought we'd whip the Germans in a couple weeks after D-Day, and we'd definitely be home by Christmas, but they broke out in the Ardennes on December 16th, caught everyone with their pants down. The 101st and a couple other units got cut off at this little Belgian town called Bastogne outnumbered five to one, with no supplies, no reinforcements, no way to get out. The Commandos were in the area anyway, so we snuck in to get them some stuff as an early Christmas present. Day after Christmas, the Third Army broke through the German line so more supplies could come in and the wounded could get evacuated, but the guys would've said they didn't need anyone coming to their rescue, and I kinda believe 'em.

I'd been through a lot of rough shit in the Army, but those guys were something else. Sitting in those foxholes, I was the coldest I've ever been, and I had gear that was designed to hold up to bad weather. They didn't, so they got trenchfoot and frostbite even if they were being careful. Hot food was a joke, the medics had to keep bottles of plasma shoved under their armpits to keep them from freezing...

[He trails off, expression caught somewhere between that same not-quite-amused look from before and just empty distance. It's not quite wistfulness, not by a long shot, but maybe something like it.]

It's nice to know that those guys won't be somewhere like that their next Christmas. Maybe they're even gonna get to be with their families. [And then Bucky just grimaces a little, mouth turning down in an unhappy frown.] The ones who got out anyway.

[Private to the Admiral]

gifts for steve, helena, morgana, scott, stiles, isaac, ben, lydia, kira, allison, mason, stephen, mickey, jean, babs, dillon, luna, ian, snafu and souji + everyone in boot camp )
Bucky Barnes
07 December 2014 @ 01:28 pm

[There's a serious furrow to Bucky's brow when he addresses the Barge, making him look almost too old for twelve. He still looks young, but there's something world weary and mature that makes it clear he's not messing around and expects to be taken seriously.

(Which is kind of a joke, because he's just a poor kid with no parents from Brooklyn and he doesn't expect anyone to take him seriously at all, but he has to try, because something important's riding on these guys listening to him.)]

Who're the doctors on board? I need to talk to one of them. Or a couple of 'em, just so we're clear on some stuff. [He doesn't want to outright announce "my friend has asthma" to anyone, especially the other kids, because that's enough to get people looking at Steve like he's diseased sometimes, or basically paint a target of "I'm easy to pick on" on his back.]

I also need gloves, a hat, scarf and jacket for my friend. [Which feels almost like too much to ask again, that they can just assume they can get free stuff, and Bucky doesn't, really. But he has to ask, because not having warm clothes is going to be a problem, and not just for them.] Most of the other kids need 'em, too. None of these clothes fit us, and it's cold on deck.

[Note that he doesn't ask for himself, because if there's a shortage or there's some problem with getting winter clothes, he can do without. He's not even really thinking he needs them, because he's got this weird looking sweater and a heavy looking blue jacket that won't fit, but it'll do. He can make it work.

There's a pause, his mouth pinched into a thin, uncomfortable line. He's not especially worried about what's going on, but he doesn't want things to get worse if he can take steps to prevent it.]


[Spam for the Flood]

[It goes without saying that most of Bucky's time during the flood is spent following Steve around, trying to make sure he doesn't get into trouble, or being ready to bail him out of any trouble he does find, and just enjoying hanging out with your best friend, because that's first and foremost why he's glad his buddy's here. They're the only family either one of them's got anymore, and if they're gonna be stuck somewhere way far out of Brooklyn, hell yeah, he wants to be together.

But he does stuff on his own, too. Snow's not as novel an adventure for him as it is for some of the other people here - they see plenty of it in New York - but he still hangs out on deck, helping younger kids build snowmen and enthusiastically participating in any snowball fights that happen, although he'll also punch the hell out of anyone who tries turning it from a game to something meaner.

His appetite isn't quite as aggressive or vaguely alarming as his older self's is, but he still helps himself to large stacks of pancakes in the dining hall, which he enthusiastically covers in syrup and whatever other topping are available. He hoards oranges, too, and sneaks some out with him to give to Steve, or other kids who look like they're hungry or homesick. At twelve, Bucky's attention is primarily focused on keeping Steve alive and as healthy as possible, but he's still a protector by nature and he knows what it's like to miss your parents and be a little scared of what the future has in store for you, so he does his best to help anyone who looks like they're having a hard time, dragging out board games he's never heard of in the common rooms and giving the younger kids piggy back rides.

(He misses his sister, so it's kinda nice to play with some of the younger kids.)

Nearing the end of the flood, he starts looking more serious and less like he's enjoying his vacation away from the orphanage, because Steve's sick again, and that always puts him on edge. He hovers around the infirmary when Steve gets checked out by the doctors and begs some soup off people in the dining hall (it's still hard to believe they can just get soup for free, and fruit and candy) before doing the same thing with art supplies from the art room.

And probably unsuccessfully tries to convince Steve to stay inside where it's warm and take it easy, which means he's back to trailing him around hoping his idiot best friend doesn't just fall over dead.]

[ooc: Replies will be coming from [personal profile] andidomeanrun!]
Bucky Barnes
07 November 2014 @ 09:06 pm
[Public Video, Backdated to Thursday]

[It's pretty dark when Bucky clicks on the video feed, but that's nothing new. He's sitting on the couch in Steve's room, and the light from the comm's screen is illuminating his face. He's not wearing his Commandos jacket, although it's folded over the arm of the couch, and he's still got his uniform pants on, even if he's swapped the t-shirt or fatigue green sweater for one of the plaid shirts Stiles had gotten for him.]

Alright, for anyone who's new, I'm Bucky Barnes. I'm a sergeant with the US Army, it was 1945 before I got here, and anyone who says "hail" or "heil" anything around me's gonna get a fist in the face.

I was running some people through basic training before stuff went to hell. I'm gonna need a headcount of who's still interested. That includes anyone new - we cover endurance, strength training, hand to hand, weapons and survival skills. It's gonna be hard, and you're gonna be mad as hell at me sometimes, but it'll be worth it next time we wind up somewhere dangerous. We're gonna meet in the gym until whatever's going on with the missing room's gets fixed.

[If it ever does.

There's a quiet rustling noise some somewhere off camera, and Bucky looks off to his left, distracted. He drops his voice, and manages to look irritated and amused at the same time.]

One more thing: if anyone wakes up the star spangled dummy here- [Bucky jerks his thumb towards what's presumably the bed and therefore a sleeping Steve.] In the next eight or so hours, I'm gonna kick your ass.

I don't know what you guys did to him while I was gone, but Steve's taking a week off. If you really need Cap, call me or one of the other twelve superheroes you've got on board. Pretty sure we can handle it.

[There's a soft swoosh of air as a pillow goes flying towards the camera. Bucky catches it almost without looking and puts the comm down, turning away as he kills the feed.] Go back to sleep, you dumb punk.

[Spam for Helena, backdated to Tuesday]

cw for references to torture and medical experimentation )
Bucky Barnes
08 October 2014 @ 10:35 pm
So, I'm gonna go out on a limb and guess Steve ratted me out.

[Says Bucky, now wearing a standard issue US Army combat uniform circa 1943, looking completely nonplussed (this time meaning totally not bothered by what's going on around him, English, you're a weird language) as he broadcasts from- hey, is that Steve's room?

It totally is. He might have claimed it for his own and kicked Steve out, because this place is a lot nicer than the underground bunker or whatever the other Bucky's apparently been living in. He's sitting on the couch with his feet propped on a coffee table, not that you can see it from the angle of the camera, and he definitely looks like he's made himself at home.]

Which means it goes without saying that boot camp's off. I couldn't really give less of a shit if any of you know how to dig a trench or get through an hour of combat. Anyone who's still interested is on their own until your fearless leader comes back.

If he comes back.

[Because who knows? Time's ticking on, and things still haven't righted themselves. This is either a really long fuck up, or they're stranded. Either way, it's not really looking so good, is it?

The sort of lazy, bored smirk he's been sporting up until this point fades for a moment, before stretching a little wider, almost like he's disbelievingly amused.]

So, out of curiosity, what's he like? Your "Bucky Barnes."

[There's a little more teeth in his expression now, and it's not exactly in a good way. His eyes look pretty dead.]

Don't tell me you're not curious about what you'd be like if things were totally different.
Bucky Barnes
01 October 2014 @ 09:49 pm
[Bucky's taken a day, and he knows a few things:

1. He's an inmate here, so no weapons, limited boost from the serum, no warden areas and no asking the Admiral for any supplies.
2. People here are just as gullible and easy to fool as they had been on the normal Barge.
3. Steve is going to be a fucking problem.

So they'll still find out who he is eventually, but he's going to try to bide his time as long as possible. He's already seen himself mentioned as unaffected on Arthas' list, and he's not surprised, but he's also feeling more than a little self satisfied. He's done his homework.

He's in his cabin when he clicks on the video feed, wearing the blue Commandos jacket just like his counterpart usually seems to and smirks a little lazily at the camera.]

I know we're steal dealing with some pretty rough shit, but I'd be lying if I said it didn't feel good to be back in my right mind again. [He's seen the conversation with the Emperor. Pathetic.]

While we're still figuring out who's who, anyone who's interested and not currently a psycho: boot camp's starting up again first thing tomorrow. You guys all know what to expect by now.

Anyone got any questions, you know how to find me.

[He's going to need to figure out a way for someone to get him into the CES...]

[Spam, September 30 - October 3]

[This is a different part from what he's had to play before, but unlike his counterpart struggling to keep up a mask of indifference to the suffering of others, this Bucky's finding it incredibly easy to pretend like he cares about these people. He smiles, makes smalltalk, delicately probes for more information, and they just spill. There haven't been too many who have looked at him with anything but trust, and those who have viewed him with suspicion apparently haven't put two and two together yet.

So Bucky seemingly goes about life as usual, even if there's something maybe a little bit off about him. He's quick to brush it off as being bitter about his trip through the door, at losing a month to being out of his mind and terrified of everything, but it's still... a little odd.

Feel free to catch him in the dining hall, the gym, heading back to his room, or conveniently carrying too many things - books, usually, but sometimes equipment for boot camp - to be able to open the lock on a warden area by himself, and if you could grab the door, he'd really appreciate it, thanks. Boot camp starts up again, and is virtually identical to the routine that people had been running before Bucky had gotten too incoherent to continue, except sometimes his motivational barbs sound more like direct insults. But that's what a drill sergeant does, right?

The only thing that's really different is that he doesn't seem to be gravitationally pulled back into orbiting around Steve as much as he usually does. They don't not spend time together, but Bucky seems off on his own for most of the day, or talking with other people like nothing's wrong. Because it isn't. Everything's fine.]

[ooc: Tags will be coming from [personal profile] shieldcatchesyou! Steve is going to officially out him on Friday. :|b]
Bucky Barnes
09 September 2014 @ 07:50 pm
[Hello, Barge. Did you think you were done with coma announcements today?

You were wrong.]

Helena's in a coma. [Which explains why she wasn't at Basic this morning, at least. Bucky had checked on her right after and found her sleeping in her room, so now here we are.]

I'm not bringing her to the infirmary, but I'll keep an eye on her until she wakes up.

[He lets out a tired sigh, and though you can't see it, he's definitely running his hands through his hair, digging his fingernails into his scalp.]

Are we missing anyone else?

[Open Spam]

[This has not been a good week.

Of course, it's not really the worst week he's ever had, so he sort of feels stupid for being irritated by it. This could be worse. This could be a lot worse, but it's still hard to get excited about yelling at people in the pouring rain in the CES while they run up and down a hill at five in the morning when you've gotten maybe an hour or two of sleep the night before, especially when you know you don't have to.

He's not at war anymore. He knows that.

But his nightmares are getting worse, not better. Instead of the familiar blend of memories and horrible possibilities, he wakes up feeling terrified beyond belief, and with no memory as to why. It's bad enough some nights that he spends the rest of it awake and miserable in his own room so he's not keeping Steve up (even though he knows his friend probably isn't sleeping), and sometimes, he's been in the CES running for hours before his "recruits" are up and out of bed.

And he feels cold all the time, even huddled in his Commandos jacket and one of the flannel shirts Stiles got him, plus a t-shirt, no matter where he is on the Barge.

Maybe he's just getting sick.

Whatever's happening, he does his best to just ignore it. If he focuses on the task at hand, he can get through this the way he's gotten through everything, even though on Monday, he calls Lydia Oswalt (a kid who'd been killed by shrapnel not ten minutes after they'd gotten off the landing craft in Anzio) when he's yelling at her to keep up, and then he can't remember the name of a movie he's seen sixteen times on Tuesday, and he has an entire conversation with Mason before realizing wait, he's not Dernier.

They're caught out in a thunderstorm during Basic on Wednesday, and when lightning strikes a little too close to where they are, for a good ten seconds, he's back in Italy, because that's not lightning, it's a shell, and if they don't take cover, they're all getting blown to hell.

Bucky realizes where he is and who he's with moments later, and it leaves him shaky and uncomfortable, so the session gets cut short, and he hauls himself back to Steve's room to borrow his shower, since the water actually stays one temperature.

He's distant and strange for most of the rest of the day, and while he doesn't try to avoid anyone who was there this morning, he doesn't make an effort to seek them out, either.]

[ooc: Bucky's door to the bridge related symptoms are starting to rear their head more noticeably. Right now, he's mostly having night terrors and suffering from general confusion, which means he's often starting to look like he's having something similar to a bad PTSD flashback or just suffering from memory loss, so consider this a blanket warning for something that might come up in his threads. Feel free to encounter him whenever, whenever, and old/new cr, multiples and fuzzy time are all appreciated. c:]
Bucky Barnes
29 August 2014 @ 06:08 pm
[Filtered to Wardens + Select Inmates*]

[Bucky has set himself up in the firing range, and has mounted the camera at an angle so you can see where he is and what he's holding pretty clearly. He's back in his Commandos jacket instead of the soft plaid button downs Stiles requisitioned for him.]

Alright, at this point, most of you know who I am and what I was doing before I got sucked into this circus. For anyone who just got here, I was a sergeant in the US Army before I got transferred to the SSR to join the Howling Commandos, which was a squad that's pretty much a combination of the Army Rangers and OSS. It was 1945 when I got grabbed to come here. [So, World War II, obviously.] Barbara was talking about how we've gotta be better prepared for whatever shit gets thrown at us next, and we got talking about how putting you guys through Basic might help.

And before anyone starts complaining about how they've got superpowers and don't need this shit, Basic's not about who can run the fastest or do the most pushups. It's supposed to be getting you used to following orders, doing what you have to to survive, and working as a unit with guys you just met. It's also supposed to help get you ready for what it's like to have people trying to blow you up every minute of every day.

Most of the stuff I know how to do you hopefully won't ever have reason to worry about, [Although who the hell knows, maybe training people to use frag grenades would be a super smart move if they ever wind up somewhere like the Vanquish's planet again.] And it's probably not realistic to expect all of you to go through actual basic training, [Even though he thinks that might do you guys some good. Maybe a lot of good.]

So I guess we'll start with something simple.

And then Bucky taught you all about using an M1 Garand )

[There's a lot of other really basic stuff he could cover - don't serrate your bayonet, don't drink all your water until you know you're gonna have access to more, don't hug the ground if you hear a shell coming at you because you're exposing more of your body laying out flat like that - but that can come later.]

I can give lessons to anyone who's interested in rifles and sidearms. [Grenades, knives, maybe even mortars or a BAR if they needed one, but that's pretty heavy duty for something they'll probably never need to use.] If anyone's interested in hand to hand or needs some survival skills, I can do that, too.

Honestly, what I'd really like to do is get anyone who's interested doing at least a couple hours training a day. It's not gonna be fun and it's not gonna be pretty, but if you wanna stay alive, you'll listen to me and stick with it.

And if anyone wants to talk coordinating lesson plans, I'm all ears.

[Strictly Warden Filtered]

Offer's on the table for inmates, too. Lemme know if you want me to add them to the filter. Figured it probably wasn't a good idea to be broadcasting this shit to everyone if there's someone who'd use it as an excuse to cause a clusterfuck.

[ooc: As Bucky said, he can and will include inmates on this filter if their warden thinks they should be here. Right now that means Helena, Blight, The Emperor and Morgana can see this.

The list will be updated as tags come in!]
Bucky Barnes
20 August 2014 @ 07:47 pm
For anyone who's confused, I'm still here, not twelve years old, [Somewhere, other Bucky is indignantly pointing out that he's sixteen, asshole.] And not wearing red and blue pajamas.

Anyone else got a clone bothering people?

[He smirks, somewhere between irritated and genuinely amused by the whole thing. He's back in his room in all its spartan, World War II vintage glory, and he's wearing his Commandos jacket.]

This is Sergeant James Barnes. Everyone else's already done the explaining, so if you're out there and you wanna talk, you know how to find me.

[There are a handful of people out there he'd like to talk to - Peggy, Howard, the other Commandos, but he knows better than to get his hopes up about them actually answering back.


And Dum Dum, if you're out there, you still owe me five bucks.

[ooc: No Winter Soldier related spoilers please, but everything else is totally fair game. c8]
Bucky Barnes
07 August 2014 @ 08:09 pm
[Open Spam]

[It's been over a week since Bucky was almost beaten to death maybe a couple yards from the infirmary, and he feels... fine.

Fine. Sore, tired, still healing, but fine, and that's so deeply unsettling that he really doesn't know what to do with it at all. At all, because he's gone this long without having to talk about what happened to him in any detail at all, and he definitely doesn't want to start now. It's just a lot harder to dismiss little differences like increased appetite and tolerance to alcohol and apparently painkillers now, too, as not a big deal when the deep black and blue bruises on his ribs have already faded to almost nothing, when it should take a friggin' month for broken ribs to actually start feeling better, not days.

He's scared. He's been scared of what this is going to mean for a long time, and two days ago, after he'd shooed Steve away, locked the bathroom door behind him and turned on the shower, he'd spent a distressingly long time staring at his own reflection in the mirror, wondering if now's the time his face is going to start peeling off to reveal some monster right out of a pulp underneath.

So he stays quiet about it, tries to pretend like he still feels like shit and doesn't want to do much - which isn't a difficult thing to pull off, because all of this means he is pretty fucking miserable - and if he's a little more sullen and cranky than usual, Steve seems to be chalking it up to the fact that he's got three busted ribs and a bad concussion, and leaves it at that. It works out for the most part.

But eventually, boredom does get the better of him. Sitting around in bed while you're recovering - unless you're really out of your mind with fever or whatever drugs were trying to help nudge you back along to health - is fucking terrible, no matter who you're with or where you are, and obviously it's not like he expects Steve to be keeping him company the whole time he convalesces. They can't both be sitting around in Steve's room feeling penned in and bored.

Bucky slips out of Steve's room sometime after his friend heads out to go for a jog, and as much as he wants to go for a run or punch the hell of something in the gym, he heads for the dining hall and helps himself to a giant stack of pancakes instead. Now that he's not as achey or metabolizing painkillers out of his system too quickly, he's even more ravenously hungry than usual, and winds up settling at a table near a corner, facing the door to get to work on finishing breakfast. The bruises around his eyes are gone, and there's still a bandage wrapped around his left hand - even though the cut's healed, he'd changed the wrappings himself so no one would get suspicious - and as much as he looks burned out and tired, he's in a lot better shape than he has any right to be, and kind of looks it.]
Bucky Barnes
28 July 2014 @ 06:36 pm
[Anyone on the second floor (or first or third, really) might have heard a couple gunshots, shattering glass and other signs of a fight not too soon before Bucky's post. Then there's another gunshot, and silence for a couple seconds before quiet voices start up - C'rizz and Bucky.

A while later, a post's on the network. Bucky's panting and his voice is hoarse and strained, either because he's exhausted or in a hell of a lot of pain (it's both), but he manages to let everyone know what the hell was going on anyway.]

Zane's dead. [That's it. That's all he wants to say about it, and it kind of seems like he's going to leave it at that before he bites out:]

We need fucking call signs or passwords next time this happens.

[And then clicks the comm off so he can figure out how he's getting to the infirmary, because he is definitely not being carried.]
Bucky Barnes
15 July 2014 @ 08:33 pm
[Bucky sounds somewhere between pissed off and totally burnt out and hollow when he clicks on the comm, because boy, does he have an announcement for you.]

Helena just killed Cosima Niehaus. She jumped her in an empty cabin, she knows her from back home. Sort of.

[It's a little confusing and definitely private, so Bucky doesn't feel like getting into it on a public feed like this.]

I'm bringing Cosima to the infirmary, and I'm not putting Helena in Zero, [Because he's been down there and he's not sure how he feels about it - had he stuck Ben in there? He thinks maybe he did, and it makes him feel a little sick to his stomach - especially given Helena's been locked up before and he doesn't want her thinking this is like that.] But she's on house arrest in her room until I figure out how to get her to cut this shit out.

[Private to Ben]

Can I pick your brain about something?

[Three guesses what it's about.]

[Open Spam]

[After Bucky's brought Cosima to the infirmary and made sure Helena's still in her room, he knows he needs some space. He can't go right into talking to Helena while he's somewhere between furious and emotionally flatlining, because he's mad, but he knows this isn't entirely her fault, and he doesn't know what to do with it, or how to move forward.

Funny, but he thinks he remembers something like this happening forever ago. That might have been part of the reason he'd bothered Ben.

He's pissed. At himself, mostly, so it's easy to head down to the gym, pull off his uniform jacket, wrap his hands and start focusing on beating the shit out of a punching bag instead of thinking about anything else. He'd learned how to box young - his dad had taught him some, and then he'd learned more as he'd got older, partly out of necessity (he could earn money for winning fights, and it never hurt to know how to throw a mean punch when your best friend was hell bent on taking on every bully in New York, let alone Brooklyn) and partly because he'd just been good at it.

So he attacks the bag like he knows what he's doing, because he does, and there's something almost mechanical and vicious about it, not to mention the look on his face. The bag's not in danger of getting ripped out of the ceiling, but it still swings forcefully, maybe even a little more than it probably should.

After a while, he heads back to his room to hose himself off, and hits up the dining hall. He's changed into his Commandos jacket, and slips a couple things into his jacket pockets - an apple, a roll wrapped in a paper napkin - before heading on his way. He doesn't really have time to sit and eat enough lunch for two people today.

Because he does, after all, have two other stops he needs to make:]

[Spam for Helena]

[Once he's calmed down enough to do this the right way, instead of just scowling at her and hoping that did something marginally productive, Bucky heads back to Helena's room. It's part of the reason he'd stopped by the dining hall first, besides just being hungry - maybe the food can act as some kind of peace offering for sticking her in here in the first place.

Even if the reason it'd happened was because she killed someone.

He takes a breath before knocking on the door, just to give her a head's up someone's outside.]

It's Bucky. I'm coming in. [And then he's pushing open the door, not entirely certain of what he's stepping into.]

[Spam for Cosima]

[And after that's done, it's time for the harder part of this messy little operation: apologizing to the person your inmate attacked and killed within like, a couple hours of them showing up here in the first place.

This is made worse by the fact that it doesn't seem like she's awake when he first gets there, which means he's just. Going to awkwardly loiter around trying not to look too out of place or uncomfortable just waiting around here for signs of life or movement. Maybe he should've waited a while longer - he remembers the death toll and how bad it sucks - but he kind of feels like this shouldn't wait, even if it's just a short visit. It's not like either one of them's going anywhere for a while, although she's a little more stuck than he is.

So, hi. There's a stranger sort of awkwardly hanging around your hospital bed, wearing a uniform that might not look entirely unfamiliar to you.]