dragonlady7 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
dragonlady7) wrote2015-11-25 03:06 pm
dragonlady7) wrote2015-11-25 03:06 pm
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I was looking for a new snippet or excerpt I could put
via http://ift.tt/1lhPrXE:
I was looking for a new snippet or excerpt I could put up because I’m so excited about Bucky’s thighs in the CA:CW trailer. And I found one, sort of. (Criteria: doesn’t spoil anything, stands alone, is short. That last one rules out nearly everything I write.)
This is from a nebulous future chapter of Full of Grace and features two OCs. I think it stands alone, it just might not be immediately obvious.
Because one of the things I’ve always been most interested in about Bucky is that while Steve Rogers was alone in the world– even when I had nothing– except for Bucky, Bucky was not, he was from a community he was very much a part of, he was a big brother and had parents and a family who loved him. Steve had nothing to lose once Bucky was gone, but Bucky left a lot behind. And when he came back, some of it might still have been there. (I have a big Irish NYC family okay, I have a lot of feels.)
“Grandpa!” Maria said, crossing the room to latch the window, which had come loose and was flapping in the breeze. “Why did you open the window? It’s too cold for that!”
“I didn’t,” her grandfather said, looking over at it in bemusement. He was in his chair, wrapped in a blanket. Clearly he hadn’t considered himself too warm. “It just blew open.”
“It should have been latched,” Maria said. She was sure it had been latched, she checked the windows herself pretty often. She tried to remember back when it had been open last. They hadn’t had any really warm days in a while. She opened it to air the room out once a week when she changed the sheets, because she didn’t want it to get to smelling too much like old man, but that had been on Thursday and she knew she’d latched it again after.
“Oh,” Grandpa said, “I know. It was Bucky.”
Maria turned to look at him. “It was what?”
“Bucky,” Grandpa said. “He came by to visit, night before last, didn’t I tell you?”
“Bucky,” she repeated flatly.
“Oh,” he said, “it was your mother I told. I’m sorry, I forgot. He came in at night, through the window, so he wouldn’t scare anybody else. I was sure your mother would pass it on, I was so happy to see him!”
Maria shook her head. “Bucky,” she said again, frowning. “Is this— what is a bucky?”
“My cousin Bucky,” Grandpa said, affronted. “You know. Bucky Barnes!”
“Oh,” Maria said. “What? Grandpa, the one you were on TV saying was dead and this crazy assassin guy was an impostor?”
Grandpa drew himself up with dignity. “I was wrong,” he said. “It happens to the best of us. His story is pretty out there. But it’s true, it’s really him. And he stopped by to see little Johnny, and see if I really meant it, that it wasn’t him. Because he has memory problems sometimes, and he was worried that maybe I was right, and he wasn’t really him.”
“But he is,” Maria said, blinking in disbelief.
“Yes,” Grandpa said. “It is him, and I was wrong, but in my defense I couldn’t have understood what they did to him to make him do those things.”
“And Bucky came in the window,” Maria said. She knew it was true, that Grandpa’s cousin had really been the real Bucky Barnes, and that he’d been babysat by Bucky back in the day. They’d met Steve Rogers, she’d been there; Captain America himself had hugged her grandpa and cried and called him little Johnny. It had really been something.
But Grandpa had been a little more confused lately. The news crews had caught him on one of his mean days, and Maria was still mad at them; Grandpa had looked kooky and old and had said viciously that his cousin Bucky hadn’t been any assassin and this guy out there couldn’t be him. He’d come across as really mean and old. But…
He was old, he was really old. And he was more and more confused lately, and less lucid, and his kidney disease wasn’t improving things at all.
“He did,” Grandpa said, waving. “About scared the pants off me, I know, when I woke up and saw him sitting there. He hadn’t really meant to wake me up, he said, but he just wanted to see me, because he couldn’t really understand how many years it had been, he didn’t really understand what happened to him either…”
“So he came in the window,” Maria said, “and he didn’t shut it behind himself when he left.”
“He must not have latched it,” Grandpa said. “But I don’t know that he’d be able to, from the outside.”
“Mm-hmm,” Maria said, inspecting the latch. “Well, as long as he didn’t scare you too much.”
“He was so sad,” Grandpa said. “He was so tired and sad, Maria. It’s not right, what happened, and I’m sorry for what I said on the TV. Do you think they’d let me take it back?”
“I don’t think they really care about the truth, Grandpa,” Maria said.
I was looking for a new snippet or excerpt I could put up because I’m so excited about Bucky’s thighs in the CA:CW trailer. And I found one, sort of. (Criteria: doesn’t spoil anything, stands alone, is short. That last one rules out nearly everything I write.)
This is from a nebulous future chapter of Full of Grace and features two OCs. I think it stands alone, it just might not be immediately obvious.
Because one of the things I’ve always been most interested in about Bucky is that while Steve Rogers was alone in the world– even when I had nothing– except for Bucky, Bucky was not, he was from a community he was very much a part of, he was a big brother and had parents and a family who loved him. Steve had nothing to lose once Bucky was gone, but Bucky left a lot behind. And when he came back, some of it might still have been there. (I have a big Irish NYC family okay, I have a lot of feels.)
“Grandpa!” Maria said, crossing the room to latch the window, which had come loose and was flapping in the breeze. “Why did you open the window? It’s too cold for that!”
“I didn’t,” her grandfather said, looking over at it in bemusement. He was in his chair, wrapped in a blanket. Clearly he hadn’t considered himself too warm. “It just blew open.”
“It should have been latched,” Maria said. She was sure it had been latched, she checked the windows herself pretty often. She tried to remember back when it had been open last. They hadn’t had any really warm days in a while. She opened it to air the room out once a week when she changed the sheets, because she didn’t want it to get to smelling too much like old man, but that had been on Thursday and she knew she’d latched it again after.
“Oh,” Grandpa said, “I know. It was Bucky.”
Maria turned to look at him. “It was what?”
“Bucky,” Grandpa said. “He came by to visit, night before last, didn’t I tell you?”
“Bucky,” she repeated flatly.
“Oh,” he said, “it was your mother I told. I’m sorry, I forgot. He came in at night, through the window, so he wouldn’t scare anybody else. I was sure your mother would pass it on, I was so happy to see him!”
Maria shook her head. “Bucky,” she said again, frowning. “Is this— what is a bucky?”
“My cousin Bucky,” Grandpa said, affronted. “You know. Bucky Barnes!”
“Oh,” Maria said. “What? Grandpa, the one you were on TV saying was dead and this crazy assassin guy was an impostor?”
Grandpa drew himself up with dignity. “I was wrong,” he said. “It happens to the best of us. His story is pretty out there. But it’s true, it’s really him. And he stopped by to see little Johnny, and see if I really meant it, that it wasn’t him. Because he has memory problems sometimes, and he was worried that maybe I was right, and he wasn’t really him.”
“But he is,” Maria said, blinking in disbelief.
“Yes,” Grandpa said. “It is him, and I was wrong, but in my defense I couldn’t have understood what they did to him to make him do those things.”
“And Bucky came in the window,” Maria said. She knew it was true, that Grandpa’s cousin had really been the real Bucky Barnes, and that he’d been babysat by Bucky back in the day. They’d met Steve Rogers, she’d been there; Captain America himself had hugged her grandpa and cried and called him little Johnny. It had really been something.
But Grandpa had been a little more confused lately. The news crews had caught him on one of his mean days, and Maria was still mad at them; Grandpa had looked kooky and old and had said viciously that his cousin Bucky hadn’t been any assassin and this guy out there couldn’t be him. He’d come across as really mean and old. But…
He was old, he was really old. And he was more and more confused lately, and less lucid, and his kidney disease wasn’t improving things at all.
“He did,” Grandpa said, waving. “About scared the pants off me, I know, when I woke up and saw him sitting there. He hadn’t really meant to wake me up, he said, but he just wanted to see me, because he couldn’t really understand how many years it had been, he didn’t really understand what happened to him either…”
“So he came in the window,” Maria said, “and he didn’t shut it behind himself when he left.”
“He must not have latched it,” Grandpa said. “But I don’t know that he’d be able to, from the outside.”
“Mm-hmm,” Maria said, inspecting the latch. “Well, as long as he didn’t scare you too much.”
“He was so sad,” Grandpa said. “He was so tired and sad, Maria. It’s not right, what happened, and I’m sorry for what I said on the TV. Do you think they’d let me take it back?”
“I don’t think they really care about the truth, Grandpa,” Maria said.