bucky with the good hair (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
deadthenred) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thearena2013-07-14 07:51 pm
deadthenred) wrote in thearena2013-07-14 07:51 pm
Entry tags:
open log, group 1
Who| Bucky and you.
What| An open log, featuring: Stomachaches? Violence?
Where| In the candy arena.
When| Early week 3.
Warnings/Notes| N/A, will add warnings as they become relevant.
I.
Christ, Bucky was sick.
He knew about rationing. Not just the type that meant no sugar and no shoes, but the bigger idea, that said you don't stuff yourself when you're starving, because that's when eyes grew bigger than your stomach. He knew all that. He knew the candy was probably full of poison none of it was a smart thing to eat.
But when you're hungry, damn, if it isn't hard not to eat.
So Bucky was sick. You could find him, staggering through Candycane Lane, a glassy look in his eye, marching one front in front of the other. He was hoping, like he always did, that keeping moving would keep him lucid. To him, the whole world looked like Pepto-Bismol.
II.
It was night, and Bucky was doing his best to hide, clutching a bit of candy cane like it was Excalibur. The sickness had passed, and he'd fought off a Doki-Doki, earlier. Or, not so much fought off, as whacked at and then run away from. Night seemed to be a kind of peace, but he didn't sleep. Bucky didn't trust this place, or his dreams.
He wish he didn't have to rest, out in the relative open, but the Doki Doki's hadn't given him much choice. Bucky was resting against a chocolate tree, steadily growing sticky, his senses turned outward to any sign of movement.
What| An open log, featuring: Stomachaches? Violence?
Where| In the candy arena.
When| Early week 3.
Warnings/Notes| N/A, will add warnings as they become relevant.
I.
Christ, Bucky was sick.
He knew about rationing. Not just the type that meant no sugar and no shoes, but the bigger idea, that said you don't stuff yourself when you're starving, because that's when eyes grew bigger than your stomach. He knew all that. He knew the candy was probably full of poison none of it was a smart thing to eat.
But when you're hungry, damn, if it isn't hard not to eat.
So Bucky was sick. You could find him, staggering through Candycane Lane, a glassy look in his eye, marching one front in front of the other. He was hoping, like he always did, that keeping moving would keep him lucid. To him, the whole world looked like Pepto-Bismol.
II.
It was night, and Bucky was doing his best to hide, clutching a bit of candy cane like it was Excalibur. The sickness had passed, and he'd fought off a Doki-Doki, earlier. Or, not so much fought off, as whacked at and then run away from. Night seemed to be a kind of peace, but he didn't sleep. Bucky didn't trust this place, or his dreams.
He wish he didn't have to rest, out in the relative open, but the Doki Doki's hadn't given him much choice. Bucky was resting against a chocolate tree, steadily growing sticky, his senses turned outward to any sign of movement.