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#george barnes
gay-jewish-bucky · 8 months
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I think Bucky's parents immigrated to America from a small shtetl in rural Romania. Winnie and George (which are English names they adopted in an effort to more easily fit into American society) had recently married and wanted to escape rising antisemitic violence in eastern Europe, especially in the form of pogroms, and they hoped for a better life for any potential future children they might be blessed with.
Bucky and his sisters grew up enthralled by stories their parents told them about the lives they lived in their small, but incredibly tightknit, Jewish community. The children also picked up bits and pieces of the little Romanian their parents spoke in front of them, it's just enough to understand the language, but not enough to speak it proficiently.
Bucky winds up in Bucharest after escaping Hydra, it's not an intentional choice, it's a magnetic pull to the place that has been etched into his family's DNA for generations.
His Romanian is spotty, but he's quickly embraced by a group of kind old bubbies who keep him fed by hiring him to do manual labour since he shies away from direct hospitality. When they take him to one of the last remaining synagogues in the country for service, he breaks down in tears as the stories his parents told come flooding back in vivid colour, overtaken by equal measures of grief and wonder.
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turtle-steverogers · 1 year
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six year old steve being wary of george barnes at first, because he’s a big, tall man just like his own dad and his own dad gets real mean if steve is too loud or if he’s been drinking. but after a while, steve realizes that george is gentle and soft-spoken and always so kind, and after that, steve clings to george for a few weeks
“got a little shadow there, dear?” winnie asks, peeling another potato and handing it to a seven year old bucky to cut as george passes through the kitchen with steve right behind him.
“he’s a bit more like a duckling, i’d say,” george says, eyes twinkling. he winks at bucky, who grins at him, all teeth and steve just ducks his head with a blush. but he’s got a pleased, little smile on his face, so george and winnie decide it’s worth it.
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sunstar706 · 3 months
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Hear me out: Bucky Barnes is 100% not Jewish.
I’ve been doing a lot of scrolling on Tumblr/Ao3 the past few days looking for other people’s opinions on the nitty gritty of Bucky Barnes’ background, and realized- a lot (a *lot*) of people headcanon him as Jewish, which I find really interesting. Judaism, on the whole, is an extremely interesting subject, as the only non-universalizing Abrahamic faith, the only ethnic Abrahamic faith, and the oldest Abrahamic faith (making it one of the oldest monotheistic religions ever to exist).
Let me present to you my speculation on Bucky’s religious background. First of all, we know Steve is Catholic. Just getting that out of the way.
Am I a geography and demography nerd? Yes, yes I am. And I also have a strange hyperfixation on names. That’s why this stood out to me immediately.
James Buchanan Barnes, born March 10, 1917, into a poor family in Brooklyn, New York.
James is a really ambiguous name, with versions in pretty much every Indo-European language, as far as I know. It’s the number one baby boy name in the United States of all time, beating out the second place name (Robert) by over 300,000. Honestly, this name tells me nothing. Moving on.
Buchanan. It’s Scottish. That says a lot. It was fairly common at the time for the eldest sons middle name to be the mothers maiden name, so we can safely say that Winnifred Barnes (née Buchanan) was most likely Scottish.
Now, this is where we get historical, and also where speculation starts. As many Outlander fans will know, things went south for Catholics in Scotland after the battle of Culloden Moor and the Jacobite rebellion, however… The Roman Catholic ecclesiastical hierarchy was reestablished in Scotland in 1878. Catholic emancipation occurred in 1829, and there was a revival of Papism in Scotland, along with an influx of Irish Catholic immigrants coming in (especially with the potato famine starting in the 1840s in Ireland), so, while Catholicism isn’t as popular in Scotland today (approximately 15% of modern Scots are Catholic), when Winnie was born (likely somewhere between 1897 and 1900, I usually put it at 1899) there would have been a good number of Catholics in Scotland. There’s a really good chance she was Catholic.
Now. Barnes. If there was ever an extremely English surname, it was Barnes. It’s pretty hard to provide reasonable evidence that George Barnes was not English, so, let’s run with that. While England today has high percentages of Islam, Hinduism, and even reasonable amounts of Sikhism and Buddhism, it was… very Christian back in the day. In fact, the only really established non-Christian religion in England was Judaism (England contained approximately 60000 Jews in 1880, a number which rose to 300000 by 1914. However, please consider that the majority of these people were fresh immigrants escaping anti-semitism in Eastern and Northern Europe, who would not have had the surname ‘Barnes’). Delving further into English Christianity- they were Anglican, pretty much.
Guess what? Protestants (ex. Anglicans like George) and Catholics (like Winnie) don’t like each other. While marriage between Protestants and Catholics wasn’t illegal in the uk at the time, it is extremely unlikely their families would have approved. So, Winnie and George moved to NYC. (Actually, this is how my very own great-great-grandparents ended up in New Zealand).
So, where does James Buchanan Barnes lie on the religion side of things? I can tell you The chances that he’s Jewish are very low. I’d say he’s probably Catholic, even if just to blend in- New York is extremely Catholic, even today. He could be Anglican. After all the shit Hydra put him through, he’s might’ve given up on religion all together. Or maybe he converted to Buddhism. A lot of people do that (Buddhism is the third largest universalizing religion on earth). I’m kidding, don’t take that seriously, he’s not a Buddhist.
I think he’s Catholic.
But hey, nothings concrete. I’ve read some really great stories where he’s Jewish. I’ve read great stories where he’s Catholic.
-Ranger616
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norashelley · 4 months
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Joan Blondell and George Barnes, 1934
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nofatclips · 10 months
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A sequence from Alfred Hitchcock's Spellbound showcasing Miklós Rózsa's score
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secretceremonies · 7 months
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James Cagney, Kay Francis, Maurice Chevalier, Joan Blondell, and George Barnes attending a theme party hosted by Kay Francis herself
“Kay Francis gave a Nautical Night for her friends of cinema-land the other night, and for the occasion converted the Vendome Cafe here, into a "quarterdeck" for dancing and general revelry. And it is recorded in the Daily Press, that, as a result of the party, Miss Francis contracted an attack of influenza, or La Grippe, that compelled her to postpone a trip eastward. Here we see the hostess with some of her guests, in costume. Left to right: Jimmy (James) Cagney; Kay Francis; Maurice Chevalier, Joan Blondell and George Barnes.”
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genevieveetguy · 2 years
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Women make the best psychoanalysts until they fall in love. After that they make the best patients.
Spellbound, Alfred Hitchcock (1945)
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Envelopes Part I
2,500 words. Stucky. Family dynamics.
Moments during the war, in letters and otherwise, shared between the Barnes family.
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sjsmith56 · 9 months
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Family - Part 2, From There To Here - Bucky Barnes One Shots
Summary - Told from Winnifred Barnes POV. Recounts friendship between Bucky and Steve. How Sarah Rogers’ death and Bucky being drafted affected all of them. Touches on Bucky’s female admirers.
Length - 4764 words
Warnings - normal parental worries, strain in Steve and Bucky’s friendship, fear of Bucky going to war.
Author notes - no real plot, just a few slice of life glimpses of the Barnes family. There is some subtext but I have deliberately left it ambiguous. It can be what you want to see into it.
<<Part 1
🔹🔹🔹🔹
October, 1936
It was what we all knew would happen. Sarah Rogers had been sick for several months and when she finally went into hospital it was just a matter of time. Just a few weeks from the day she was admitted she was gone and her son, Steve, at just 18 years old, was left alone in the world, except for us. Our son, Bucky, had been Steve's friend from childhood.
Steve was a sickly boy who was small, asthmatic, and seemed to catch every virus going around. His dad, who died from a mustard gas attack in France during World War I never saw his son as Steve was born a few months after he died. Sarah was left to look after him as best she could on the meagre widow's pension she received. In those early days she lived in Hell's Kitchen which is almost as bad as it sounds for a widow with a sickly son. Somehow, through hard work and a strong will, she earned enough to move to Brooklyn. The neighbourhood had its own issues but there was one thing here that Steve didn't have there ... Bucky.
He was our oldest child, born in 1917. Rebecca, our second was born in 1929. Bucky met Steve in 1930, when the smaller boy was 12. He was being beaten up by bullies who wanted his lunch money. If there was one thing Bucky couldn't stand it was bullies. Being a bigger, stronger boy himself he laid into those others who were pummelling Steve and showed them that they couldn't have their way all the time. He brought Steve home with him, his nose bleeding, a black eye forming, and his shirt ripped. I chipped a piece of ice off the ice block in the icebox and wrapped it in a rag, told the boy to hold it to his eye. Bucky put pressure on the bridge of Steve's nose to stop it bleeding. While he was doing that I went up into the attic looking for some of Bucky's shirts that he had outgrown. Surely he had one that Steve could wear so I could launder and mend the one he was wearing. When I came back down Steve was holding Rebecca in his arms as she had started to cry. Bucky just shrugged as he held the bleeding nose back and pressed the cold rag into Steve's eye. Rebecca just cooed at the boy and the smile on his face and Bucky's face was wonderful.
They were friends from that day on. Steve's mother found work as a cleaning lady and I asked if Steve could wait for her at our house, worried about him being alone. She had the same worries and readily agreed, offering to pay for my time.
"No, you don't need to pay us," I said. "The boys can do their homework and watch Rebecca while I get supper on. Bucky likes him and boys need good friends. We're happy to have him for a few hours until you pick him up."
He was with us every week day after school, doing homework, having a snack, playing with Rebecca. Occasionally they went out and canvassed the neighbourhood for soda bottles to cash in, or doing odd jobs. Both boys liked to keep busy. They showed initiative often and I know the money both boys earned made the difference during the Depression. In 1935 Sarah Rogers was able to get work as a nurse in a TB ward. It was better paying than the cleaning jobs and with Steve in high school she didn't worry about him being home alone. Bucky was already graduated and working at the docks but they hung around together on the evenings and weekends.
Steve had started drawing pictures during the times when he was too sick to go to school. Occasionally he stayed at our house, sitting on the parlour sofa with a blanket wrapped around him, his sketch book open on his lap. He was such a good artist and Bucky learned to draw from him. They would draw cartoons of their teachers and school friends. When Sarah began feeling poorly she was unable to work much. Steve drew some beautiful pictures for her; scenes of the ocean, or flowers on the flower boxes that hung on the railings of fire escapes. He was doing all the housework then, cooking, cleaning and laundry. His devotion to her when she couldn't work at all was touching. Bucky supported him as best he could during that time but there were moments when Steve pushed him away, insisting he could do it himself.
When Sarah became too sick to stay at home Steve took her to the hospital and they confirmed what she already knew in her heart. She had tuberculosis and it was in its final stages. Only Steve was allowed to see her and he had to wear a face mask, and cover up his clothes with a gown. Bucky would wait for him, if he wasn't working, and walk him back to the flat where he and Sarah had lived. There wasn't much talking between the two but Bucky felt it was important to be there for his friend.
On Thursday, October 15, Bucky clocked out of his shift at the docks and came out to Steve waiting for him. As soon as he saw Bucky he began to sob and that's when my son knew that Steve's mother was gone. Now, working on the docks is very physical and manly. Softness isn't something looked kindly on. But at that moment Bucky just held his friend, hugging him hard and rubbing his back. He ignored the looks he got from the men coming off shift and was just there for his friend. Gradually Steve stopped crying and Bucky brought him home. We already knew as Sarah had put us down as next of kin and the hospital phoned. I hugged him. So did Rebecca. Gently I asked him if he had enough to pay for her funeral. He nodded.
"When Ma first got sick she called the American Legion and I guess she asked about helping a widow of a deceased veteran to pay for her own funeral," he said. "They offered her $25. I've been saving ever since. It's not much but it's enough. I'll have to put a headstone on her grave later, when I've saved up some more."
Bucky looked at me then at his friend. "I have some money," he offered. "It's yours."
"No, I can't take your money," said Steve. "I'll find a way."
Bucky insisted but Steve was firm. Then he stood up and thanked us for our sympathy and he began to leave. He wouldn't listen to our pleas to stay with us, said he was a man now and a man took care of his family himself, even when he was the only one left in the family.
A few days later we went to the funeral. It was a closed casket as Steve couldn't afford to pay for the embalming. The casket was little more than a plain box but again it was what the boy could afford. I bought a bouquet of flowers and we laid it on top so that Sarah would have something pretty to go with her to her final resting place. There were a few other mourners there as the Legion had posted a notice and some of Joe Roger's fellow soldiers who had survived the Great War came to pay their respects to his widow. As we took the final walk from the undertakers to the cemetery Bucky stayed beside his friend, worried about him having the strength to walk the mile distance.
At the cemetery the priest, as the Rogers' were Catholic, spoke the words that would consecrate Sarah Roger's soul to her maker. We didn't understand a word of it as it was in Latin but Steve and several of the mourners seemed to know what the responses were and we followed their lead. When the priest said the words "cinis in cinerem, pulvis ad pulvis" Steve picked up a handful of dirt and tossed it on the casket as it was being lowered. We understood he meant the phrase "ashes to ashes, dust to dust" and tossed some dirt on the wooden box. Bucky put his arm around Steve's shoulder, while I held his hand on the other side. The boy never cried but his face was stricken with grief.
I invited several of the mourners to our house for some coffee and sandwiches. It took a while to walk there and they filed in quietly into our parlour as I took my coat off and and put my apron on. Rebecca, even though she was only seven years old came into the kitchen to help, bless her good heart. Steve sat there with a sandwich on a plate in one hand and a coffee in the other, looking lost and completely devastated. Suddenly he stood up, put his food down and looked at me apologetically.
"I'm sorry but I can't stay."
He ran out the door and I told Bucky to follow him. When he came back a few hours later, well after the other mourners had left and I cleaned up after them he was sad and a little perplexed.
"He couldn't even find his door key," said Bucky. "I had to give him the one hidden under the brick."
"Did you ask him to live with us?" I asked. "We can squeeze another bed into your room."
"I told him but he said he could take care of himself. Why does he have to be so stubborn?"
"He's a man now," I replied, stroking Bucky's hair. "Has been ever since he started to look after his mother. It's hard for a man to accept help. Doesn't mean we won't help him."
Bucky looked at me with those blue eyes I loved so much. His thick dark hair was just like his father's had been and he had his strong features. I knew he was already popular with the girls but I also knew he understood how to keep a girl out of trouble. But what Steve was going through had Bucky perplexed that his friend wouldn't accept charity.
"How can we help him, Ma?"
"We offer our help with love, encourage him to believe that it's not weakness to accept it," I said. "You keep treating him the way you have since you became friends. He needs to know that will be the same. He doesn't want pity, but our understanding is another matter. I'll tell him his mother asked me to watch over him and that if he doesn't accept that then he's not honouring his mother."
"You're gonna guilt him," he smiled. "That's sneaky."
"Maybe, but I can't in good conscience let him wallow in misery, can I?" she said. "What if the tables were turned and it was you mourning me. What would you want him to do?"
My son pondered a while and then nodded his head in understanding. "I would want him to treat me the same as he always did. So, I guess I'll still tease him a little, build up his confidence a little, and just be quiet with him when he needs that."
I hugged Bucky quickly then patted him on the back. He always was smart. Together we would get Steve through this time.
Over the years it was hard for Steve and there were times when he felt terrible accepting our help but Bucky was always there to tell him we saw him as family and you have to help family. Through odd jobs, scrounging, and the occasional birthday or Christmas gift that included some folded cash hidden in it we helped Steve continue to live on his own, although he moved into a single room flat from the two bedroom one he had shared with Sarah. There was a standing invitation to Sunday dinner at our house and I always made sure to give him lots of leftovers that could be left in the small icebox he had in his room. Then he could heat it up on the hot plate.
〰️
December 1941 - March 1942
Five years and a couple of months after Steve's mother died the world, which was already in some turmoil with the Nazis taking over Europe and threatening to invade England, was thrown into more chaos when the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor in Hawaii. One day Americans were going about their business and the next day we were at war. The Selective Service act had been passed that fall of 1941 and both boys registered for the draft. Bucky got his notice just before Christmas and was ordered to report to the Brooklyn enlistment office in January. Steve got his notice as well just a couple of days later, and the two went together to undergo their physical. Bucky passed, was declared 1A and told to report for basic training at Camp McCoy in Wisconsin in February. Steve, as was expected, was declared 4F and took it hard.
Before he left Bucky tried to help Steve build up some muscle by taking him to the gym and training him the same way he had been trained when he took up boxing. It was a noble gesture but all the years of being sick hadn't allowed Steve the ability to withstand any sort of physical activity. He tried to enlist again just before Bucky left for basic training and once again he was rejected as 4F. George, myself and Bucky tried to encourage him to get involved in the war effort in other ways but he didn't want to hear it. I suspected he was going to other towns and trying to enlist under other names. He wasn't the first one to try as any number of men who wanted to serve their country but were considered unsuitable for combat also tried. Some succeeded, most didn't.
On the day Bucky had to go I made sure his clothes were clean and mended. He had all of his toiletries. We stood on the railway platform, George, Rebecca, Steve, and me, trying to milk out as much time with Bucky as we could before he absolutely had to board. Then his father offered Bucky his hand before pulling him in for a quick hug.
"You'll do alright, son," said my husband. "You have a good head on your shoulders and you're used to hard work. That's all the army needs from you."
Bucky kneeled down to his sister and looked fondly at her. Despite the great difference in their ages he had been a wonderful brother and Rebecca wrapped her arms around his neck then kissed his cheek. She began to cry and he took his handkerchief, wiping the tears away before kissing her forehead. He looked at Steve next and they hugged.
"Don't do anything stupid," he said to Steve.
"How can I when you're taking the stupid with you," replied Steve.
"Punk."
"Jerk."
They gave each other a little push and laughed nervously. Then Bucky turned to me and I had to swallow down the sob that was threatening to envelop me. My son, my only boy, was preparing to go to war. When did he become so tall and so handsome? When did he start shaving and wearing aftershave? My eyes began to fill with tears ... I couldn't help it.
"Ma, don't cry," he whispered as he enclosed me in his muscular arms. "I'll get leaves and come home to see you each time. The rumour is that once we're in it we'll chase Hitler right back to Germany in no time. I'll be careful, I promise."
Once again he pulled his handkerchief out and he dabbed at the tears on my cheek. The conductor called for everyone to get on board and Bucky picked up his valise, kissing me again quickly on the cheek. He showed his ticket to the conductor and got on with a final wave. We watched as he found his seat in the car and placed his valise in the rack above. Then he sat at the window and tried to lower it but it was locked and he shrugged. A whistle sounded and the locomotive gave a great gust of hissing steam as it began to pull the the cars behind it. Rebecca chased after it for a bit until George called her back and the train left the station with Bucky on it, leaving us four, his family, behind.
We didn't hear anything from him that first month. George, being a veteran of the First World War himself, said that was normal as the boys would be learning so much at boot camp. They would have their hair cut that first day, receive their fatigues, boots, underwear, shaving kits; the army supplied everything. Physical training would begin and I had no doubt that Bucky would excel in that. He was used to road training, running, as a boxer, and working at the docks had made him physically strong. George said his boxing skills would come to good use as he learned other methods to disarm a man. There would be marching to get the soldiers used to working as a unit and learning to trust the men they marched with.
"They won't even get into firing their rifles until the drill sergeant is satisfied they're ready to handle it," said George, recalling his own military career which ended when he lost his eye in an accident.
Six weeks after Bucky left we received our first letter and it was as George said, right down to the army giving them their own shaving kits. There was no picture of Bucky but he did ask for a picture of us and he gave permission for us to share the address with anyone who asked. I knew he meant any one of the girls he had dated as several had already asked to write him. We received letters every week from him and on the 12th week he informed us he would be given a week's leave after the following week of training.
The man who stepped off the train that day was not the boy who left. My first thought, and I'm sure George thought the same thing, was that this man was going places. Even though Bucky was confident before, the man we saw stepping off the train was incredibly sure of himself and very aware of the figure he cut. He seemed taller, broader, and noticeably drew the attention of all the women, young and old, waiting at the station for their loved one. His uniform was impeccable, his boots shone, and his smile when he saw us was as bright as the sun. Rebecca grasped his hand and he held it all the way out to the car, then opened the door for her and for me, like a real gentleman.
"Looks like the army agrees with you, son," said George, looking at him in the rear view mirror. "How has it been?"
"Good, I'm actually getting a promotion to Corporal and being sent for special training," he said. "All those times at the shooting galleries at Coney Island and Rockaway Beach are paying off. I'm the best marksman in the unit. When I'm finished in November I'll be made a Sergeant and return to finish out my training with the 107th."
"I'm proud of you son," said George but he gave Bucky a look which he acknowledged. I didn't know what had passed between them but I gathered George wanted to have a talk with him later. "Any one you know in the unit?"
"A couple of guys that I fought against when I was boxing," he replied, "and a few more that I faced in basketball or football. We've banded together whenever we get 24 hour liberty. Brooklyn boys have to stick together." He was quiet for a moment. "How's Steve doing?"
I looked at George. "He's still trying to enlist," I said. "Still getting classified 4F. He's coming for dinner tonight."
"Sure, but I do have a date later," he said nonchalantly. "Met a nurse on the train. She's staying with her sister in the Bronx. We're meeting at a dance hall. Don't wait up for me."
George and I exchanged glances. Bucky already had a date. That wouldn't go over well with about half a dozen girls who had his camp address and had been writing him religiously. Still, you were only young once. By the time we got to the house Steve was waiting on the stoop. He stood up as George parked the car; his eyes widened as he saw Bucky step out.
"How you doing?" asked Bucky, offering his hand to his friend. "Staying out of trouble?"
"I've had a few moments," replied the smaller man. "You look good. Did you grow?"
"Yeah, the army chow is better than they say," replied Bucky. "Not as good as Ma's food but I can have seconds with no problem. I have a date tonight, have one lined up for you if you want."
Steve blushed but said nothing. George unlocked the door and we all went inside so I could start preparing dinner. There was more talk about basic training with George adding some of his own experiences to the conversation. When dinner was finished George got out his pipe and tobacco, intending to go out back for a smoke.
"Okay if I join you, Dad?" asked Bucky, pulling out a pack of cigarettes.
Steve followed them outside and I began cleaning up. Rebecca offered to help but I suggested she get her homework done. I watched the three men through the kitchen window. George sat in an Adirondack chair that he assembled years ago. He was listening intently to something that Bucky was telling him, puffing on his pipe. Bucky held his cigarette between his thumb and forefinger, like many working men of the day. Steve just listened, as if he was happy to be there. Eventually they all came in and Bucky put his arm around my shoulders.
"That was a real good meal, Ma," he said warmly. "Your food is still the best."
"Thank you." I patted him on the cheek. "What time are you leaving for your date?"
"Right away," he said. "We have to get Steve dressed right, then take the subway to the dance hall. You're okay if I bunk at Steve's tonight?"
I smiled and nodded, knowing that meant he expected to stay the night with his date. It was never really spoken of between Bucky and me, but George had told me of having the "talk" with him when he was 17 about boundaries, and being a gentleman. As far as I knew he never got a girl in trouble. If he had there would have been expectations of him to make it right as it would be our grandchild that needed a father.
After he and Steve left George turned the radio on. I finished cleaning up in the kitchen then brought some mending into the parlour so I could keep my hands busy while we listened to the music. Rebecca had finished her homework and was reading a book. Once she went to bed George waited for a while to make sure she was asleep then he gave me that look that indicated he had something important to say. I put my mending down and looked at him with curiosity.
"That special training they're sending Bucky on? It's sniper training. Killing men from a distance."
He put his thumb and forefinger on the bridge of his nose as if he had a headache so I knew it bothered him.
"How do they decide who does that?" I asked. "They did have them in the Great War, didn't they?"
"They did and we hated them," he replied. "Not the ones on our side but the German ones. They seemed to target the best of men and took them out without any chance of them surviving with shots to the head. We thought of them as merciless killers ... and now they want to make my son one of them. I know it's war but a sniper ...." He gave a big sigh. "Bucky wasn't joking that his time on the shooting galleries probably made him a good shot. Those rifles are rigged and he still cleaned up. Right from the moment they began marksmanship he said the drill sergeants were impressed with him."
"Does he know you feel this way?" I asked gently.
He shook his head. "How could I tell my son that? He's a good boy, a good man, who is going to be doing a thankless job but a necessary one." George looked at me with sadness and acceptance in his eyes. "Don't say anything to him. I'm only telling you because I tell you everything and I had to tell someone."
I nodded my agreement not to say anything but it was hard to picture my Bucky hiding somewhere in a battleground or a village, aiming his rifle at people, then pulling the trigger and ending their lives so quickly. When we went to bed I knew it still bothered George as he touched me in the way he did when he wanted me. This time he wanted comfort and I gladly gave it to him, the man I loved since I first laid eyes on him in 1915.
Bucky arrived back home about 11 o'clock the following morning. He looked a little worse for the wear and sheepishly asked if I could wash and press his uniform shirt. While he changed out of his uniform I called up and asked if he could do some yard work for me. He came down with his shirt in his hand and waited for me to tell him what I wanted.
"How was your date?" I asked.
"It was okay, Myrna was a good dancer," he said. "Wasn't happy with her sister Betty. She took one look at Steve and wouldn't go out with him. Said so right to his face. Myrna talked to her and she agreed to sit with us in the hall but after a couple of dances with him she saw friends on the other side and went to sit with them. He stuck it out for a while then left when I was on the dance floor. Didn't even say goodbye. I drank too much after as I was angry and once I got Myrna and Betty back home safely I drank some more. Barely made it back to Steve's but he was awake still and helped me settle down."
I turned to look at my son with concern on my face. He had never admitted to being drunk to me. His eyes met mine and I could see there was something further he wanted to say. Then he swallowed and handed me his shirt.
"What can I do in the yard for you?"
"The frost is gone from the garden bed," I said. "Could you turn the dirt over? There's some manure in the shed that you can work into it."
"Sure, I can do that, Ma," he said, then he smiled and kissed me on the cheek.
He went out every night the rest of that week, with each of the different girls who had been writing him. Steve didn't come around and I wondered if they had a disagreement but Bucky never said anything. When it came time for Bucky to return to camp we took him to the train. His girlfriends were all there and he kissed each one of them on the lips, smiling at them after. Then he turned to us and said goodbye to Rebecca first. His goodbye to his father was next, and it was very masculine and proper between them. Finally, he looked at me and hugged me hard, whispering that he loved me. With tears in my eyes I put my hand on his cheek and smiled, trying to be strong for him. He stepped on the stair into the train and looked past us for a moment, as if he was searching for someone then stepped inside, found his seat and put his valise up on the overhead rack. As the train began to pull away he raised his hand in goodbye. We didn't see him again until Christmas.
Part 3 >>
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salad-of-potatoes · 3 months
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Thinking about Becca Barnes being Peggy’s assistant
After her brothers passing away, she tries to stay safe the best she can. The last thing she wants to do is have their parents- both her mom, dad, and aunt Sarah- grieve another child.
She gets offered basic training but Bec declines, just needing a simple office job. It doesn’t matter what she wanted, this was safe.
It’s nice to get out of the house with a full time job. Seeing Jimmy’s old sciencey-stuff around the house is just depressing.
Peggy dropping off her godson for Becca to watch from time to time, and they get along great. He’s a lonely kid- but so smart and so bright. He doesn’t know much about socializing, and it’s nice to teach him things.
And soon Bucky’s old stuff has a new owner.
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shrimptin · 2 years
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gay-jewish-bucky · 8 months
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When Steve and Bucky move into the home they built together—located on large plot of land outside of New York City, only a short drive away from their Reform synagogue, a community which is incredibly welcoming to interfaith families—Bucky's family gifts them two cookbooks to guide them in the learning stages of running a household, as is tradition for the Barnes clan.
The first cookbook was Bucky's Ma's. An old, well-loved copy of the 1915 edition of The Settlement Cookbook. The book contains many familiar recipes from his childhood, and it is filled with a lifetime of annotations from his Ma, his Pa himself, and his sisters.
The second cookbook is the 1991, completely revised and updated edition of that cookbook, The New Settlement Cookbook, containing a much larger number of Jewish recipes as more and more were added throughout the years. It's a like-new copy, so Bucky and Steve can fill it with their own notes and recipe modifications, just like Winnie, and then pass the cookbook down to their children as an heirloom when they're older.
Learn more about The Settlement Cookbook and its (still-relevant) impact on Jewish-American immigrant culture
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turtle-steverogers · 1 year
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When he was 7, Bucky’s favorite thing to do when his dad would take him out into Manhattan for the day was to ride the escalator in the Macy’s. His dad would hold onto his hand and let him squat and stare at the steps roving up and up and up, then scamper off to ride the one going down again. He loved imagining how it worked and thinking that one day, maybe he could make something work like that.
Steve often went with them on their little outings, and he hated the escalator. It was loud and made real scary clanking noises and there were always lots of people on them and sometimes, he was scared that if Bucky knelt down all the way to the top, he would get eaten by the escalator.
But Bucky was always insistent on riding it at least a couple times, which usually resulted in Steve being plucked onto George’s shoulders with his eyes squeezed shut and his hands pressed over his ears while Bucky marveled at the wooden steps.
One time, Steve absolutely wasn’t having the escalator, and before it could progress into a whole big meltdown in the middle of the Macy’s, George scooped him onto his back.
“I’m going to stand down here with Steve, okay, pal?” he tells Bucky, who’s already trying to scramble off to ride another time. “We’re gonna watch you go up all by yourself!”
“Okay, dad!” Bucky says, scampering off, and turning around to wave at his dad and Stevie. Steve sniffles and waves back. “Are you watching!?”
“Yeah, pal, we’re watching,” George calls, smiling because both of his boys are so quirky, in their own little ways. He wishes he could take a picture to show Winnie and Sarah later, but he’ll just have to tell them. They’ll find it as endearing as him, he knows it.
(inspired by @misspluckyplum ‘s headcanon about bucky loving escalators)
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mccarthawrites · 1 year
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Thanksgiving with the Barnes
Relationship: Bucky Barnes/OC!Rachel Barnes
Rating: General Audiences
Summary: Bucky and Rachel host Thanksgiving in their small apartment.
Author’s Note: Rachel’s sister is Rose Roberts from Agent Carter.
Words: 1354
The Barnes Masterlist || Bucky Barnes Masterlist
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It seemed like Rachel had been planning this Thanksgiving dinner for months. It was the first one she and Bucky were hosting since he’d come home. She invited his parents and siblings and her siblings, Rose and Fred. It would pack their tiny apartment, but it would be worth it. Despite his best attempts to help, Bucky couldn’t do much now being one-handed, so Steve was tasked with getting Bucky out of the apartment so he didn’t focus on not being able to help. So they decided to walk around Prospect Park for a few hours.
Rachel enlisted the help of her sister, Rose to help her cook and Bucky’s mother, Winnifred, showed up early as well.. Winnifred bought Rose and Rachel new aprons as an early Christmas gift. They came in handy with the three women doing their best with the small kitchen.
“George is bringing a small folding table because I don’t think Katie and David are going to fit at the table with the rest of us.” Winnifred explained as she prepared the Turkey.
“I’m sure we can squeeze them on the table.” Rachel told her.
“But he’ll bring the table just in case. Especially if your brother is coming. That’s ten of us.”
“I guess you’re right. I’m so glad you’re all joining us. I know Bucky is happy about it too.” Rachel explained. “It’s been a long year, but 
“Freddy said he might stop by for a beer or two. He’s probably eating at aunt Gladys’ house.” Rose reported.
“He’s going to come by and get a second dinner. You know how he is.” Rachel laughed. Alpine sat on the dining table, watching them curiously through the kitchen pass-through. Also probably trying to figure out how he was going to get a piece of turkey.
“How is my boy doing?” Winnifred asked. “He’s been adjusting well?”
“I think so. He’s okay. Just hates the prosthetics is all. I told him he doesn’t have to wear one for dinner.” Rachel explained. “But he’s already talking about having kids.”
“It’s about time.” Rose playfully elbowed her sister.
“We’d have to find a bigger place if we wanted to start a family, though.”
“Have you been looking? You could get a house in Queens.” Winnifred suggested.
“Queens? I don’t think Bucky wants to leave Brooklyn.” Rachel replied.
“Little dark haired blue-eyed babies. Imagine it, kid.” Rose smiled.
“I hope they come out looking like Bucky. They don’t need anything from the Roberts side.” Rachel laughed.
“Why? The Roberts have beautiful women.” Winnifred replied.
“Thanks, Winnie.” Rose smiled.
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When Bucky and Steve returned to the apartment most of the cooking was done. They hung up their coats.
“Smells good in here!” Bucky knew better than to step foot in the kitchen. “You ladies doing alright in there? Need any help?”
“We’re fine.” Rachel greeted him with a kiss, but if you could set the table, I would greatly appreciate it.”
“Will do. Do you need anything else?”
“No. We’ve got everything else covered. Maybe put on a record or the radio.”
“Okay.”
“No Christmas music!” Rose yelled. “It’s too early for Christmas music.”
“What are you talking about? The radio has already begun playing Christmas music.” Rachel returned to the kitchen.
“Christmastime doesn’t start until the day after Thanksgiving. They’ve got it all wrong!”
“Sure, Rose.”
“You haven’t even gotten your Christmas tree up yet, so you agree with me somewhere deep inside.” Rose teased.
“We haven’t gone to get our tree yet.” Rachel told her.
“We usually don’t set up our tree until the first of December. We have an artificial one so we don’t have such a mess at the end of the season. Oh! We found Bucky’s ornament from his first Christmas. I have to drop it off sometime soon.” Winnifred explained. “We have one for all of them.”
“That’s adorable. I wish someone would just marry me already so I can have cute family traditions already.” Rose whined.
“It’ll happen. You just have to stop looking for love and it’ll find you.” Winnifred replied.
“How’d you meet George?” Rose asked.
“He was working on my daddy’s car. He was so handsome. Asked my daddy’s permission to take me out on a date. The rest is history.” Winnifred explained.
“Why can’t I have that?” Rose asked.
“You will.” Winnifred smiled. “Stop worrying.”
“What about the man from work?” Rachel asked.
“Which one?” Rose laughed. Someone knocked on the door. Steve opened it to find George and the kids.
“Happy Thanksgiving!” George called from the front door.
“Happy Thanksgiving.” Steve smiled.
“Where’s Alpine?” Katie pushed past her father into the apartment.
“Hi, Pop.” Bucky greeted his father.
“How are ya, kid?” George asked.
“I’m doing alright.” Bucky took George’s jacket and hung it up.
“I brought a table for the youngest incase they didn’t fit at the table.” George set the folding table against the wall.
“I think we’ll all fit at the table, but thanks.”
“Hi, Buck.” Rebecca hugged him.
“Wow! You’ve grown at least four inches since I last saw you.” He teased. Her eyes narrowed, unimpressed by him.
“Hello, ladies.” George greeted them through the pass-through. “Do you need any help in there?”
“Not yet, but you can bring the turkey to the table in a few minutes.” Winnifred told him.
“That’s great news! I thought we were going to have to wait longer to eat. It smells so good in here. I cannot wait.” He told them. David and Katie had found Alpine and were playing with him. “How’s the factory treating you?” George asked his son.
“It’s alright. Nothing to complain about.” Buck shrugged.
“If you ever need a change of scenery, you’re welcome to come work with me at the garage.”
“Thanks, but I already told you, I don’t think I can work on cars with-” He pointed at his empty sleeve.
“We’d find a way. They’ve got prosthetics nowadays for nearly everything. I’m sure there’s one for mechanical work.”
“That’s okay, Pop. I don’t mind the factory.”
“George, can you bring the turkey to the table?” Winnifred asked.
“Only if you give me a kiss.” George got up and walked to the kitchen. Winnifred kissed him as she handed off the turkey.
“See. That’s what I want.” Rose commented, making Rachel laugh.
“Come on. We gotta bring this stuff to the table.”
“Honey, that's what I had children for.” Winnifred replied, teasingly. “David and Katie go wash your hands and help us bring things to the table please.”
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Once they had brought all the food to the table, everyone was seated. Winnifred said a prayer and they began going around saying what they were Thankful for while Steve carved the turkey, starting with Winnifred.
“I am grateful that the war is over and my family is together again. I am also grateful that we’re all together today.” Winnifred smiled. “George?”
“I’m grateful to see all my children around this table. I’m also grateful that we have Rachel and Rose in the family.” He playfully winked at Bucky.
“Oh. Uh- well I’m glad you’re all here. I’m grateful for my wife and this meal that she prepared with mom and Rose.” Bucky took Rachel’s hand in his and kissed it.
“I’m grateful Bucky is home. And I’m grateful for you all. So thank you for being here. Rosie?”
“My turn? Well I am grateful for the Barnes family. You really are some of my favorite people. Who’s next?” Rose asked.
“I’m grateful for Alpine!” Katie exclaimed, making everyone laugh.
“I’m grateful that we’re all together again. Like mom said.” Rebecca kept her eyes on her plate.
“I’m grateful for-” David thought about it for a moment. “I don’t know.”
“Could be anything.”
“Oh. Well- I’m grateful for mom, Rachel and Rose for making the food!” David told them.
“Stevey?” Winnifred asked.
“I’m grateful for everyone at this table. You guys all mean the world to me.” He continued carving the turkey. Bucky and Rachel’s heart swelled with the love they had for everyone. For the first time since the war ended, things seemed normal again.
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smlmsworld · 10 months
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Chapter 8: Bucky & Steve
Notes from xoxobuckybarnes:
I wanted to write some anecdotes to serve as an epilogue to the story, but then I kept getting ideas and somehow ended up with 17,000 words of domestic Stucky fluff. Oops.
Snippet:
“It was nothing,” Tony shrugs.
“It’s really not nothing,” Steve argues.
“Alright, enough. Go enjoy your day,” Tony insists, pushing the newlyweds closer towards their friends.
Bucky and Steve make their way through the garden, greeting all their friends, accepting congratulations, hugging, and kissing everyone.
It’s not what they originally planned, but now that they have this party, this celebration of their love, with all their friends there to celebrate with them, Bucky’s really happy. He’s glad to have all these people who know and love him and Steve here. He’s overwhelmed, in the best way possible, by all the love here.
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Complete!
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It's just wonderful! I could read about this family till the end of the line. - smlm
♥♥♥
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destinationout · 11 months
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“You like to have people bow to the might of spears. I like to have spears bow to people.”
Samson and Delilah (1949) Directed by Cecil B. DeMille Cinematography by George Barnes
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