Bucky Barnes (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
shapethecentury) wrote2025-01-01 02:06 pm
shapethecentury) wrote2025-01-01 02:06 pm
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Outside MCA #4, Wednesday
Bucky had taken off for Wakanda right after Thanksgiving, and then he'd... stayed. Doing the work, feeling uncertain whether the work was actually taking (whether he was becoming any less crazy), taking Ayo's hypocritical grousing about how he should be less grumpy, as well as Shuri's gentle jabs and sighs about being a persistently broken white boy.
Steve had popped in over the holidays, and they'd made their best attempt at recreating a Brooklyn Christmas, just between the two of them.
It had been terrible.
It had been perfect.
And now the year was over, and Steve was back out in the world doing his own thing, and Ayo had all but booted Bucky out of Wakanda. "Go, James," she'd said. "Rest." He'd complied, although not before --
Well, his hair was short, now. Trimmed at the sides, just slightly longer on top, but nowhere near hanging in his face anymore. He kept catching his own reflection, and being weirded out by it, like he didn't recognize himself, but he did recognize himself.
His hair hadn't been this short since the goddamn 1940s.
(It felt like a little bit of weight had lifted off him. He wasn't thinking about it too closely. Ayo had said rest, and there was nothing quite as exhausting as introspection.)
Anyway. The first stop upon arriving back on the island was obvious.
He stood outside MCA #4, backpack slung over his shoulder, and knocked.
[ooc: For her whose door this is! And yes we are debuting the TFAWS hair ahead of schedule.]
Steve had popped in over the holidays, and they'd made their best attempt at recreating a Brooklyn Christmas, just between the two of them.
It had been terrible.
It had been perfect.
And now the year was over, and Steve was back out in the world doing his own thing, and Ayo had all but booted Bucky out of Wakanda. "Go, James," she'd said. "Rest." He'd complied, although not before --
Well, his hair was short, now. Trimmed at the sides, just slightly longer on top, but nowhere near hanging in his face anymore. He kept catching his own reflection, and being weirded out by it, like he didn't recognize himself, but he did recognize himself.
His hair hadn't been this short since the goddamn 1940s.
(It felt like a little bit of weight had lifted off him. He wasn't thinking about it too closely. Ayo had said rest, and there was nothing quite as exhausting as introspection.)
Anyway. The first stop upon arriving back on the island was obvious.
He stood outside MCA #4, backpack slung over his shoulder, and knocked.
[ooc: For her whose door this is! And yes we are debuting the TFAWS hair ahead of schedule.]
no subject
no subject
"It's not like I'm able to tell the difference," he said, "so that might as well be it, right?"