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fkapommel · 1 year ago

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Etymology of TLT Character Names

Wanted to provide a fandom resource for analysis and theorizing. Since House names are explained in GTN, this list will just focus on first names. DM me for sources. Enjoy <3

Gideon

Biblical prophet, military leader, and judge, meaning "feeler," "hewer," or "one who cuts down." According to narrative, the Israelites had forgotten their god for 40 years and were punished by assaults from enemy tribes. After Israel turned back to God for aid, Gideon, an unnoteworthy Israelite, was delivered the message by an angel that he should lead Israel against its enemies. Gideon requested three miracles be done by God to prove his and God's ability to do this task, which God then performed. Gideon then completes God's tasks, including destroying an idol of Baal in the Israelite camp and displacing a much larger enemy encampment. Gideon delivered 40 years of peace for Israel during his lifetime and refused kinghood and dynasty when offered by his people. However, upon his death, the Israelites returned to worshipping Baal. A "Gideonic victory" can mean winning a battle against the odds.

Harrowhark

Harrowing - to use a piece of farming equipment to level soil, break rocks, and kill weeds to ready the dirt for seed growth. Also refers to the Harrowing of Hell, a non-Biblical, early to middle English traditional episode in which Jesus, upon death by crucifixtion, enters the Underworld to preach salvation to souls interned there before his birth, thus allowing them to enter Heaven. This tradition has been canonized by Catholic theology.

Hark - the first word of many ancient texts or announcements, meaning "listen." Biblical angelic speeches often begin with "hark."

Judith

The feminine of Judah, a Biblical Hebrew name meaning "praised," "woman of Judea/Jewess." The name Judith appears twice in the deuterocanonical Bible: once as one of Esau's wives and seperately as the titular character in the Book of Judith (a book not part of the canonized Bible). In the Book of Judith, Judith is described as a widow who uses her wit, charm, and skills of seduction to be invited to the private tent of Holofernes, the general of the enemy Assyrian army who had laid siege to her city. Judith is able to get Holofernes drunk and overpowers him, decapitates him, and steals his head to show to her city. She is of the few illustrations of the "ideal Jewish woman."

Marta

Derived from Aramaic, meaning "the daughter," "the lady," and "dedicated to Mars"

Isaac

Meaning "he laughs," referring to the father of the Biblical character's laugh of disbelief when God told him, Abraham, that his nonogenarian wife would conceive his child. Isaac is one of the three patriarchs of Israel, grandfather to the 12 tribes. When Isaac was a child, God commanded Abraham to take him up a mountain and sacrifice his child in His name. When Abraham proved his obedience, God provided a ram to sacrifice instead of Isaac. Isaac went on to marry Rebekah; though they eventually believed her to be barren, after Isaac prayed to God, Rebekah concieved twin boys, Esau and Jacob, at an old age, just as his mother did. Rebekah grew to prefer Jacob. Later, due to Sarah and Jacob's scheming, Isaac gave Esau's birthright to his second-born son, Jacob. Jacob would live on to father the twelve tribes of Israel.

Jeannemary

This specific spelling seems to be an invention of Tazmuir, but the duel components of the name are significant. Firstly, "Jean-Marie" is a French masculine name. Jeanne is the feminine form of the English "John." "Jeanne" can be traced to a Biblical Hebrew name, meaning "God is gracious." The most notable historical character of the same name is Jeanne d'Arc, a young female military leader who acted under divine guidance. Upon instruction of archangels and saints, Jeanne fought in pursuit of the coronation of Charless VII during the 100 Years War. Her leadership led to multiple military victories but was punctuated by multiple failures. The unsuccessful relief of a besieged city led to her capture and deliverance to the English, who tried her for blasphemy by wearing men's clothes and refusing submission to Church authority. Found guilty, Jeanne was burned at the stake at 19.

Mary is the most notable feminine name of the Christian Bible, referring predominately to Mary, mother of Jesus Christ, Mary Bethany, and Mary Magdalene, a female disciple of Jesus. Mary was born immaculately - without sin - so that she would be a pure vessel to carry Jesus, who she concieved as a virgin. Mary Bethany was a friend of Jesus and sister to Lazarus. She was deeply emotional about her brother's passing, which persuaded Jesus to resurrect her brother from the grave. Mary Magdalene was a probably wealthy Jewish woman who aided Jesus' teachings. As a loyal apostle, she was a witness at both His crucifixtion and resurrection.

Coronabeth

"Coronabeth," like "Jeannemary," is an obvious Tazmuir invention. "Corona" refers to both the part of the body that resembles a crown and to a colored circular frame around a stellar body, usually caused by its atmosphere.

"Beth" is derived from both "Elizabeth" ("God is my oath") and "Bethany" ("House of Figs"). The suffix -beth comes from Hebrew origins, meaning "house."

Ianthe

From the Ancient Greek, meaning "violet flower" or "she who delights." She was one of the 3,000 water-nymphs called Oceanides, daughters of the Titans. Ianthe and her sisters served as a companion to Persephone when she was in Hades. She is also a character in Ovid's Metamorphosis as the beautiful fiancé to Iphis, a character who has her/his gender changed by the goddess Isis.

Note on the Tridentarii: Coronabeth was almost called "Cainabeth" and Ianthe "Abella" after the two Biblical brother characters, Cain and Abel. In the narrative, God preferred Abel's divine sacrifices and loved him more than his brother. In a jealous rage, Cain killed Abel and hid from his crime, his family, and his God. When God asked him, "Where is your brother?" Cain returned, "I am not my brother's keeper." Angered, He cursed Cain with the Mark of Cain. Separately, the first fratricide cursed the Earth to never turn over its vegetation to Cain, the first murderer. His Mark symbolizes him as a wanderer, a person who belongs nowhere; however, it also protects him from the curses and abuse of others, returning scorned words and abuses back to the harasser seven-fold. Though Coronabeth and Ianthe received their names elsewhere, the lusty, jealous, murderous themes of Cain and Abel's narrative were present at the time of their creation and thus should not be dismissed.

Naberius

Though I can't find the meaning of the name, "Naberius" is rooted in Latin. It first appears in Johann Weyer's 1583 manuscript, "The Deceptions of Demons." Naberius, or "Cerberus" - relation to the same named three-headed dog of Ancient Greek theology unknown - is a Marquess of Hell, directing 19 legions of demons. He provides cunningness of the arts, sciences, and rhetoric in man through vocal instruction and can restore lost honors and dignities. His semblance is of a man with three dog heads or a raven.

Abigail

Biblical Hebrew name meaning "my father's joy," "my father is exalted." Abigail is a Biblical figure, being the third wife of King David and mother to one of his sons. She is a strong believer in the prophecy of David's ascension and his great dynasty. Abigail is considered to be one of the seven Jewish woman prophets and, in the Talmud, of the four women "surpassing beauty in this world." The word "Abigail" can refer nonspecifically to a waiting woman or handmaiden.

Palamedes

There are two notable historical fiction characters that share the name "Palamedes." Palamades was an ancient Grecian prince who joined the battle of Troy, according to the Aenid. After Paris had taken Helen to Troy, Palamedes was sent as envoy from Agamemnon to Odysseus because the latter man had previously vowed to defend Helen's marriage. Odysseus, however, did not want to attend the war, but Palamedes was successful in proving his fitness for war and ultimately delivering Odysseus to Troy. According to some traditions, Odysseus never forgave Palamedes for this and eventually killed him. In the Apology, Plato characterizes Socrates as looking forward to death in order to speak with Palamedes.

Secondly, Sir Palamedes is a knight of the round-table, a Saracen pagan (or probable Muslim) who converted to Christiantiy later in life. He is introduced dueling another knight, Sir Tristan, for a lady's hand, which he loses; these two fight several more times but with unclear victories, leading to a hate-love relationship deepened by their love for the same woman (the woman of their first duel). Many stories have Palamedes as the hunter of the Questing Beast, a fearsome animal the target of many a fruitless hunt. After years of pursuit, it is ultimately his freedom from wordly material granted by his Christian conversion that allows him to slaughter the beast. He remains loyal to Sir Lancelot after his affair with Queen Guinevere is revealed and follows Lancelot to France. Sir Palamedes is later killed by Sir Gawain. Except in matters concerning his love and Sir Tristan, where he often lost control of his anger, he was one of the most chivalrous and honorable knights.

Note: The story of Sir Palamedes, as a product of Arthurian legend, is nearly impossible to summarize properly due to its expansiveness and document fragmentation. If interested in the topic (such as the wink wink homo-erotic love-hate relationship he has with Sir Tristan,) i encourage futher research.

Camilla

"Camilla" is the feminine of "Camillus," a Latin term meaning acolyte, a helper of the Priest during religious processionals and ceremonies. In the Aeneid, Camilla is a queen gifted to the goddess Diana as a handmaiden who became a virginal Amazon warrior.

Dulcinea

"Dulcinea" is a name created by Don Quixote for his character, derivative of the Spanish word "dulce" meaning "sweetness." Princess Dulcinea was invented in the titular character's mind to be the most perfect, beautiful, and regal woman since he believes chivalry requires such a lady of him. To refer to a loved one as like Dulcinea is to express your idealistic devotion and love to her.

Protesilaus

"Protesilaus" may come from the Ancient Greek "protus" for "first." Protesilaus was a hero in the Iliad. According to an oracle, the first Greek to set foot on land after sailing to fight the Trojan War would die. Protesilaus was the first to dare step off ship; he sealed his fate then, later dying in combat. His widow was so devoted to his memory that she built a bronze statue with his likeness. She later self-emulated when the statue was burned and destroyed.

Silas

Latin in origin, "Silas" means "of the forest." Notable figures named "Silas" include first century St. Silas, who accompanied St. Paul on his second mission. He is credited as co-author of the two letters to Thessalonians and the Book of Hebrews; however, authoriship is disputed. St. Silas is sometimes depicted with broken chains due to an episode in which an earthquake freed him and St. Paul from imprisonment.

Colum

From the Gaelic word for "dove"

#tlt #gideon nav #harrowhark nonagesimus #judith deuteros #marta dyas #isaac deuteros #jeannemary chatur #abigail pent #magnus quinn #dulcinea septimus #protesilaus ebdoma #silas octakiseron #colum asht #ianthe tridentarius #coronabeth tridentarius #naberius tern #palamedes sextus #camilla hect #mine

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girlactionfigure · 25 days ago

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THURSDAY HERO: BEN SHIMONI

Full English text of this sign about Ben at the bottom of the page

Ben Shimoni, 31, was celebrating peace at the Nova music festival in southern Israel on October 7, 2023 when the event came under massive terrorist attack by a barbaric well-armed horde of killers and rapists. Amid carnage and chaos, Ben dodged bullets to reach his car and then picked up four strangers. He maneuvered their way out of the festival site and drove thirty minutes to Beersheba, where his passengers got out of the car. To their shock, Ben said he was going back to rescue more people. They tried desperately to change his mind but Ben turned the car around and headed back to hell.

Ben was very familiar with the roads around the festival area because he spent his childhood in Gaza. Ben lived in Gush Katif, a tight-knit, warm community of Jews. In 2005, when Ben was only 13, his idyllic life was hideously disrupted when his family and all the other Jews in Gush Katif were forcibly ejected by their own government in a tragically misguided attempt to conciliate the Palestinians. Families who’d harvested land and built businesses over a lifetime had to hand it all over to their enemies. The Palestinians immediately destroyed the farms and factories, elected Hamas and began building terror tunnels to kill Jews. Now 18 years later, paragliding terrorists on a mission of destruction were at the Nova music festival and Ben was on a mission of his own: to rescue as many people as possible.

Like a firefighter rushing into a burning building, Ben drove into a field that was still under massive attack. He immediately filled his car with five more terrified strangers, and drove them to safety in Beersheba. This group, too, was shocked because once again, after reaching safety, Ben chose to go back to the festival site. He’d already saved nine lives but made one more desperate and valiant attempt. He picked up three frantic girls and almost got away until they were stopped at a checkpoint manned by heavily armed soldiers. Ben’s girlfriend Jessica Elter was on the phone with him and heard what happened next. Jessica told the Jewish Chronicle: “Suddenly I heard Ben asking, confused but not afraid, if some people in the road were Hamas terrorists or Israeli police. I heard the girls in the back screaming and pleading with Ben at the top of their lungs to ‘Drive, drive, drive.’ I heard a lot of yelling in Arabic and a big crash, some shooting and, after a minute of quiet the phone just hung up.”

Ben’s car was later found riddled with bullets but empty and he was initially classified as missing. However after five days Ben’s family was notified that his body had been identified, some distance from the car. Nearby was the body of the girl who’d been in the passenger seat. They had both been shot. The two girls who were in the back of the car have never been found and are presumed to be hostages in Gaza. Jessica is praying for their rescue and hoping to learn more from them about Ben’s final minutes.

Jessica says that Ben’s heroic self-sacrifice to save at least nine other people was completely in character. “He was shy, loyal, very honest with every person he met, and never said no to someone in need. He always put others before himself, truly. He had the best heart ever. And the thing he did that morning testifies to the person he was.” Jessica and Ben had attended several previous Nova festivals. Jessica would have been at that one too, except that she had recently grown more religious and stayed home to observe Shabbat.

Ben was a successful businessman who worked in the restaurant industry and appreciated the Israeli night life scene. His brother Avinoam remembers that Ben “loved life. Loved cars, traveling and parties. Always puts himself last and wants to help, so it’s not surprising that the last action he did in his life was trying to rescue his friends from hell.”

Israeli band Synergia released a song based on a poem written about Ben Shimoni. It begins, “Who is the person who goes back into hell, a moment after he escaped?”

At the Nova festival site, Ben’s loved ones put up a sign about Ben’s life and his heroic actions on October 7, 2023. May his memory always be for a blessing and may his soul have a great elevation!

Full text about Ben (from the blue sign in the image above) at the memorial site, written by his family:

Ben Binyamin Shimon was the first born son to parents Pnina and Rafi Shimoni after many efforts to bring children into the world. Ben has younger twin brothers, Avinoam and Chai, and Chai has special needs. The three of them grew up in Dugit of Gush Katif near the sea. Following the Israeli disengagement from Gaza, Ben’s parents Pnina and Rafi divorced. Ben moved to the north with his father, and two years later, his brother Avinoam joined him, spending their teenage years there together. After completing his military service, both Ben and his father decided to leave the north and move to Modiin to start a business together, which led Ben into the world of business and back to the south. In recent years, Ben moved back to live with his mother and brother Chai in their home in Ashkelon. Later on, his partner Jessica also joined them. Ben always loved extreme sports, cars, and motorcycle racing. His friends and close-knit family were his whole world.

He was always ready to help, even when not asked. Ben loved to celebrate life and live in the moment; nightlife and parties were an integral part of his life. He owned several businesses related to food and nightlife.

In the last few months of his life, he decided to leave these businesses and began working as a sous- chef with his good friend Matan Zafrir at the Pitmaster restaurant in Petah Tikva, with a bright future ahead in the industry. His coworkers recount that they had never met a more professional, caring, and dedicated person than him.

That Saturday, Ben decided to stay home for the second holiday of Sukkot, a decision that, as it turned out later, saved his mother and brother Chai from traveling to celebrate at the home of their friend from Dugit, Tova Goren, who lived in Kfar Aza and was murdered in her home along with her daughter Eran.

On October 7th, in the early morning hours, Ben left for the Nova festival, where he met up with his friends Tom Peretz and Michal Ohana. His partner Jessica, who was inseparable from him, surprisingly decided to stay home that evening with his mother and brother Chai. When the attack began, Ben immediately called his mother to inform her that there were rockets and to wake up Jessicaand take everyone to the safe room (bomb shelter).

Ben wasn’t afraid of the rockets; he got in his car and started to flee. He knew the area well, having grown up there and served there during his military service. Ben was an experienced driver and knew how to navigate the roads of the Gaza envelope. At the beginning of the journey, he picked up four passengers he didn’t know; Jude Kotler, Amit Shalit, Mashi Lindner, and Tal Gozal. From their testimonies, we understand that Ben quickly grasped the situation and did everything to calm them down and bring them to safety.

He rescued them to Be’er Sheva. On his way there, he contacted his father, who lives in Be’er Sheva, and asked if he could bring them to his house.

His father was at work in Omer (another city in the South) and told Ben to come and get the key. Ben realized this would delay him and decided to drop them off at a house he didn’t know at the entrance to Be’er Sheva. There, they begged him to stay with them and not return to the festival area, but he was determined to save his friends who were still there. That morning, during the rescues, Ben managed to speak with his friends and family. Everyone had the chance to talk to him; his father Rafi, his mother Pnina, his brother Avinoam, and his girlfriend Jessica.

They were all proud of him for saving people, and asked him to come home and not return to the area of the festival. However, Ben was determined to save his friends. He returned and managed to save another eight people he didn’t know to the Netivot area. Only ten months later we were connected with these people and learned that they were physically healthy but not mentally. Afterward, he returned to the festival area for a second time in hopes of finding his friends Tom and Michal, even though they told him not to come.

Nevertheless, he drove to the last location they sent him. But when he arrived at the location, Tom and Michal were no longer there (probably because their phone battery died, and they had already moved to their next hiding place). Today Tom and Michal are safe and sound. At that time, Ben knew that Gaya Halifa (Z”L), who worked with him at the Pitmaster, was also at the festival, so he contacted her and understood she was in danger. He asked her to send him her location. Gaya was with her friend Romi Gonen; they were hiding from the terrorists’ gunfire in a small bush near the Re’im parking lot.

Gaya sent Ben the location, and along with it, she wrote, “Don’t come; there are gunshots.” Despite this, Ben chose to look for them. He found them and got them into his car. In addition to them, Ben saw Ofir Tzarfati (Z’L) and offered him to join them in the car. Ofir had just made sure that his friends and girlfriend were rescued into another car and there was no space for him to go with them, so he joined Ben’s car.The four of them began driving towards Ashkelon on Road 232. Gaya managed to speak with her father, Avi and tell him that Ben rescued them and they were on their way out, asking him to pick her up from Ashdod. Romi texted her friends and family that a friend of Gaya’s from work (Ben) came to rescue them and that they were on their way out. After a short drive of a few kilometers at a crazy speed, during which Ben was on the phone with Jessica, he told her that he saw figures ahead and asked, “Are they terrorists? Arabs?” Immediately after, Jessica heard gunfire and screams. At 10:12 AM, at the Alumim Junction, they encountered an ambush by terrorists who slaughtered them.

The car stopped, and Ben and Gaya were murdered on the spot. Ofir and Romi were injured and half an hour later, kidnapped to Gaza. All this was recorded on a phone call between Romi and her mother, Mirav. After 54 days, we learned that Ofir was murdered in captivity at Shifa Hospital, and his body was found and returned for burial in Israel. As of today (ten months after October 7th, at the time of this writing), Romi is still held captive by Hamas, and we all pray for her safe return to her family, healthy in body and soul. Ben and Gaya were declared missing for five days. After extensive searches and understanding that something terrible had happened, we hoped that perhaps they were injured or even kidnapped, but the bitter news came. Ben planned to continue living life to the fullest and build his life his way, but fate chose for him to die a hero. Ben left behind a grieving family, friends, and a girlfriend who miss him, are proud of him, and love him deeply.

#Thursday Hero #🎖

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david-goldrock · 7 months ago

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Israel's declaration of independence, translation by David Goldrock

In the land of Israel, the Jewish nation had risen. There its spiritual, religious and stately character was formed, there it had lived a life of kingdomly sovereignty, there it had created national and universal cultural assets and had bequeathed the entire world the eternal book of books

After the nation was exiled from its land by force it had kept its alliance to it in all the countries of its scattering, and did not cease to pray and hope to return to its country and renew in it its stately freedom

From this historic and traditional bond the jews had strived in each generation to return and to grasp their ancient homeland; and in the last generations returned to their land by the masses, and pioneers, immigrants and protectors had bloomed souls, revived their hebrew tongue, built villages and towns, and have established a settlement that's only growing, which is the ruler of its market and culture, seeking peace and defends itself, brings the blessing of progress to all the inhibitors of the land and turns its soul to kingdomly independence

In the year 5,657 to the jewish calendar (1897) the Zionist congress had gathered to the voice of the call of the envisioner of the vision of the jewish state Theodor Herzl and had announced the right of the jewish nation for a national rising in its land

This right was recognized in the Balfour declaration on the 2nd of November 1917 and was approved by a mandate from the United Nations, which had especially given international validity to the historic bond, that's between the jewish nation and the land of Israel and to the right of the jewish people to reestablish its national home

The holocaust that had happened to the nation of Israel in recent times, in which millions of jews in Europe had been overcome to the massacre, had reproved beyond a shadow of a doubt the necessity of a solution to the issue of the jewish nation from the lack of the homeland and of the independence by renewing the jewish country in the land of Israel, which will open wide the gates of the homeland to every jew and will grant the jewish nation the position of an equal nation between the family of the nations

The remainder of the expulsion that had survived the terrible Nazi massacre and the jews of other countries hadn't stopped to immigrate to the land of Israel, even with every difficulty, prevention and danger, and hadn't stopped to demand their right to life of dignity, freedom and straight-labor in the homeland of their people

In the second world war the jewish settlement in Israel had contributed its entire-part to the struggle of the free nations and peace against the powers of the evil Nazi, and with the blood of its soldiers and its war-effort had bought itself the right to be counted among the nations who established the alliance of the United Nations

On the 29th of November 1947 the United Nations Assembly had accepted a decision that obligates the establishment of a jewish country in the land of Israel; the assembly had demanded from the inhibitors of the land of Israel to hold within them all the required steps of their side to the execution of the decision. This recognition of the United Nations of the right of the jewish nation to establish its state is irrevocable

This is the natural right of the jewish nation to be as each and every nation - standing on its own in its sovereign state

Therefore, we had gathered, we the members of the people's council, the representatives of the jewish settlement and the Zionist movement, on the day of the end of the British mandate over the land of Israel, and by the validity of our natural and historic right and by the basis of the decision of the United Nations' Assembly, we thus declare the establishment of a jewish state in the land of Israel, it is the State Of Israel.

We determine that starting the moment of the end of the mandate, tonight, light to Saturday 6 of Iyar 5708 to the jewish calendar, 15th of May 1948, and until the establishment of the elected and regular governance structures of the country according to a constitution which will be decided by the elected constitutive committee not after the 1st of October 1948, the people's council will act as a temporary state council and its executive branch, the people's-governance, will act as the temporary governance of the jewish state, which will be called by the name Israel

The State Of Israel will be open to jewish immigration and to grouping the exiled nations; will work hard on the development of the land for the benefit of all its inhibitors; will be built on the bases of liberty justice and of peace to the light of the vision of Israel's prophets; will employ a full societal and stately equality of rights to all of its citizens with no differentiation by religion race and sex, will promise freedoms of religion, conscience, tongue, education and culture; will protect the holy sites of all religions and will be loyal to the principles of the Charter of the United Nations

The State Of Israel will be ready to cooperate with the Institutes and the representatives of the United Nations in the fulfillment of the decision of the assembly from the day of 29th of November 1947 and will act to the establishment of the financial unity of the land of Israel in its entirety

We call the United Nations to give a hand to the jewish nation in the building of its state and to accept the State Of Israel to the family of the nations

We call - even while in the blood-attack that's being wagered against us for months - to the people of the Arab nation that lives in the State Of Israel to keep the peace and to take their parts in the building of the state on the basis of full and equal citizenship and by the basis of suitable representativeness in all its institutions, the temporary and the permanent

We're extending a hand of peace and good neighborliness to all the neighboring countries and their people, and call them to cooperate and mutual help with the hebrew nation that's independent in its land. the State Of Israel is ready to contribute its part in a united effort towards the progress of the entire Middle East

We call to the jewish nation in all the Diasporas to unite around the settlement in immigration and in building, and to stand with us towards our days in the great war over the fulfillment of the yearning of the generations to Israel's redemption

Out of confidence in the might of Israel (also means god), we hereby sign with the sign of our hands for testimony of this declaration in the place of sitting of the temporary state council, on the land of the homeland, in the city of Tel Aviv, this day, evening of Shabbat, 5th of Iyar 5708 to the jewish calendar, 14 of May 1948

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morphean42 · 2 months ago

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A common theme I see in a lot of media with religious characters are these people losing faith after terrible events, and while this is completely valid and does represent how some people deal with trauma, I like to go the other way more.

This is specifically about Falsettos because of course it is, it’s me. The characters of this show are Jewish, but are shown to be less than orthodox about it. Mendel says “religion’s just a trap” at one point in the show, and the rest seem to agree with him, so it can be a simple conclusion to make that they aren’t fully traditional or connected the to faith.

Now, my main point here is about Jason. Jason doesn’t pray, as he says in the reprise of ‘Miracle of Judaism’ he’s never really spoken to G-d. Some people might say that after the events of the show, after Whizzer isn’t saved, Jason might stop believing at all in his religion, but I disagree.

This may be me projecting too much onto these characters, but religion can bring comfort to those in hard times. I like to think Jason becomes more connected to his faith after Whizzer dies and Marvin gets sick (and eventually dies as well), comforted by the structure in the face of such uncertain times. His life is defined by chaos, by people leaving him and not understanding him. The idea of his faith bringing him some level comfort and safety is important to me.

This isn’t as well fleshed out as it could be, and isn’t a response to anyone in particular. Just some thoughts I’m having lately.

#falsettos #jason falsettos #falsettos thoughts #religion isn’t a bad thing and we need to stop treating it like it is #religion can be beautiful #not just harmful

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frommydiary · 3 months ago

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What’s your favourite thing/story about Prophet Muhammad ‎ﷺ?

Assalaamu'Alaikum

A little back story, when I was in my childhood my grandmother used to narrate stories of prophets, and there was this beautiful story of prophet Muhammad ﷺthat got stuck with me since then, where a jewish woman would throw garbage on His way and He wouldn't get angry, He wouldn't react at all and gently remove the mess and patiently go on with his day and this pattern repeated months and months until one day the prophet ﷺ went out as usual and expecting the trash but found nothing, rather than being relieved, the prophetﷺbecame concerned for that woman and visited her house, it turned out she had fallen sick and He prayed for her health and recovery. SubhanAllah subhanAllah 🤍the woman was soo amazed by Muhammad's compassion and empathy🌸our beloved prophet was soo gentle and kind with everyone...🤍🌸🥺 subhanAllah, And I remember my grandmother used to always tell me ke "beta always be nice with people no matter what, like our rasoolAllahﷺ, people should know we are muslims not by our words only but by our behaviour, deen, mannerisms and character.

#ya rasoolallah #sallal lahu alayhi wasallam #allahuaqbar

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violet-hearth · 5 months ago

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Devotional Art and Art Magic!

Happy Friday!

Visual art is such an underutilised tool, especially by beginner and younger practitioners. I understand that we all start off excited by spell bags and witch bottles and potions, but as a queer person, so many of us express ourselves through our art and expression can be as big a part of spells as the ingredients (for me expression and intention go hand in hand).

Art has been used both in devotion and in blessings. Displaying art of house blessings was a means to bless the home permanently (Judaism), icons of saints were used as a form of veneration and in prayer (Catholic), and there are several articles and books that dive into art as prayer (mostly Christian).

Sigils + Vision Boards:

Sigils are a visual representation of intent and desire in spellwork and can be incorporated into art through large paintings, sewing patches onto your coat, buttons and badges, painted onto stones, vases, embroidery etc.

Like sigils, a collage can be used as a visual representation of your desire or intent - they can also be an art form of their own and be made as a form of devotional art.

Fashion:

Fashion and style witchcraft are about coordinating your look into your goals and intentions. Whether this is through charmed jewellery, symbols, sigils, colour associations or flagging. Queer aesthetics is a huge thing for identifying ourselves and the community, and as a queer witch I love charming my carabiner, wearing queer jewellery, and playing with gender.

The aesthetics of the DIY movement and the aesthetics of queer culture are almost interchangeable. The appeal comes from the look and the fuck-the-man attitude itself, but also from the connection of having handmade, community-focused things by your side. (Queering Your Craft)

Masks:

Masks can be a great way of incorporating sympathetic and symbolic magic into a larger ritual. Masks can be used to represent archetypes of characters or energies.

In worship of Dionysus, the communicants’ attempt to impersonate the deity by donning goatskins and by imbibing wine and wear a disguise or white linen mask to enable the leaders of the ceremony to make the god manifest. (Britannica)

Masks have been sued in mystery plays, comedia dell’arte, opera, Noh, Dance of the Red Tiger Devil - for both sacred and entertainment productions.

Creating Queer Devotional Art

To protect/enchant the hearts and voices of activists - This spell is meant to protect our hearts and souls, but can be used to honour our queer cultural ancestors, friends, and adapted for honouring deities.

You need:

Art/collage/craft supplies - paint, markers, papers, canvas, glue, magazines, poetry, pens, embroidery, quilting squares etc.

An idea or image you want to create

A white candle

Inspiration:

Devotional art

Jewish Paper Cutting

NAMES project

Queer zines

Protest signs

Trans/Queer Protest Chants

To perform this spell:

Anoint, pray, bless, carve a sigil into etc. The candle and light it - candles often represent the soul so here we’ll let it burn until it naturally extinguishes if safe to do so (a mall candle may be better)

Start creating your image, add in aspects of queer resistance, joy, history, pain, the messages of your own activism. A symbols, symbolism, images of famous activists, sigils, poetry - whatever speaks to you.

If desired, pray, or bless or say an incantation as you finish the piece

Place this art somewhere visible in your house - this spell can also maybe used to make a good sign or banner at protests - optionally turn into a zine, carry around devotional art and art magic in a little notebook or specific sketchbook

This is a very low stakes type of protection. People have been making talismans and hanging up protective decor for centuries. From gargoyles to garlic wreaths to decorative home blessings. This is just a modern adaptation to this world-wide tradition, with a queer and activist focused twist xx

#art magick #art magic #sigil magic #sigils #fashion magic #glamour magic #glamour spells #queer witchcraft #queer witch #art witch #art spells #sigil spells #color magic #happy friday #happy pride 🌈#queer artist

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eretzyisrael · 7 months ago

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by Matt Margolis

Jerry Seinfeld is by no means the most political or controversial actor/comedian out there, but when he took the stage at Duke University's commencement ceremony, it ultimately caused a chorus of "boos" and pro-Palestinian chants, as well as a walkout by students.

Seinfeld, who is Jewish, is the parent of two Duke students and an active supporter of the university. He has been vocal in his support for Israel following the Hamas terrorist attacks on Israel on October 7. His wife also funded a pro-Israel protest at UCLA last week. When Seinfeld was announced as this year's commencement speaker, some students expressed opposition to his appearance over his support of Israel, and warned that there would be a display of opposition at the commencement ceremony.

The 70-year-old comedian also made headlines recently for blaming "the extreme left" for ruining comedy.

"Nothing really affects comedy. People always need it. They need it so badly and they don’t get it. Used to be you would go home at the end of the day, most people would go, "Oh, ‘Cheers’ is on. Oh, ‘M.A.S.H.’ Is on. Oh, ‘Mary Tyler Moore’ is on. Oh, ‘All in the Family’ is on. You just expected there’ll be some funny stuff we can watch on TV tonight. Well, guess what? Where is it?" Seinfeld said last month. "This is the result of the extreme left and PC crap and people worrying so much about offending other people. When you write a script and it goes into four or five different hands, committees, groups: ‘Here’s our thought about this joke.’ Well, that’s the end of your comedy,” he said. "They move the gates, like in skiing. Culture, the gates are moving. Your job is to be agile and clever enough that wherever they put the gates, I’m gonna make the gate."

Vanity Fair has more.

Seinfeld’s introduction by school president Vincent Price was “drowned out” by chants of “free free Palestine.” The rallying cries appeared to come from both the soon-to-be-graduates seated on Brooks Field as well as folks in the surrounding rows at Wallace Wade Stadium. Another video shows be-gowned students standing, unfurling Palestinian flags, and leaving the stadium as Seinfeld prepared to speak. According to The Daily Beast, the livestream of the graduation ceremony cut away from the protest as it occurred. Seinfeld, who also received an honorary doctorate from the school, didn’t allude to the protest in his speech, which focused on general life advice for the graduates. WRAL reports that the still-working standup announced three keys to life: Work hard, pay attention, and fall in love. (All activities, one should note, that seemed to eternally elude his namesake character.)

“Whatever you’re doing, I don’t care if it’s your job, your hobby, a relationship, getting a reservation at M Sushi, make an effort,” Seinfeld said in his speech, which made no mention of the protesting students. “Just pure, stupid, no-real-idea-what-I’m-doing-here effort. Effort always yields a positive value, even if the outcome of the effort is absolute failure of the desired result. This is a rule of life. Just swing the bat and pray is not a bad approach to a lot of things.”

According to a report from the New York Times, the graduates who walked out chanted “Disclose, divest, we will not stop, we will not rest” from the parking lot.

#jerry seinfeld #commencement address #protesters #duke university #comedy

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tiniedemon · 2 years ago

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— ♡

doberman

stan marsh / reader

— ♡

cw | violence, doberman bf!stan, black cat gf!reader, smoking, swearing, protective best friends kenny & kyle

characters are 17-18 in this!

running. you were running, chest heaving, legs burning, face contorted. you were being chased by some aggressive gang banger bitches you’d just pissed off with your loud mouth, and boy were they furious. you were a track star all your years of school and they were on your ass.

you could only hope and pray that stan, kyle, and kenny were in their usual spot under the bleachers of the stadium. you could feel your heart ready to give out just as you rounded the corner into the stadium, your feet slapping the pavement as you dashed towards the bleachers. the amount of fear coursing through you was the only thing keeping you on your feet. the second you smelled smoke, you could feel the shout bubbling from your lips.

“stan!” you shrieked, a relieved grin lighting up your face as your body finally collided with your boyfriend’s. he caught you with one arm, the other holding a cigarette to his lips. the glance he cast you was nonchalant, merely a raised eyebrow to express his confusion. you watched the cogs in his brain turn as his eyes connected with the bodies of the females you’d been running from.

all three of the girls were stopped dead in their tracks, eyes huge and chests heaving. the look of fear on their faces brought a bit of pride to your chest, what with stan’s innate protective nature that truly only made itself known once, when he’d beaten the shit out of eric cartman for calling you a cock-sucking jew bitch (which truly made no sense, because you weren’t jewish).

stan looked back down at you, huffed, and put his cigarette out on the metal brace beside his head. you thanked him silently via a nod and a kiss pressed to the underside of his jaw. the absence of stan’s body heat left you a bit cold in the frigid autumn air, but kenny’s lanky arm thrown over your shoulders and kyle’s hand settled in the center of your back more than made up for it.

you watched as stan stalked towards the girls, cracking his knuckles in a way that was very reminiscent of a cinematic high school fight scene. the sight almost made you want to laugh, almost being the key word, because just as the urge came, it left. stan was pretty damn attractive, all three of the girls shrinking down as he towered over them.

“get lost,” he spat, and get lost they did. you let out a cheer, kenny placing a celebratory cigarette between your lips as kyle lit it. stan turned swiftly on his heels and dragged his feet towards the three of you, his hand cupped beneath your chin. he plucked the cig from between your lips, placed a gentle kiss there, and took a puff from it.

“you really gotta stop riling up bitches you can’t handle on your own, sweetheart,” he muttered, and you scoffed. kenny shoved your shoulder, your head snapping to shoot him a glare.

“you deserved it, loud mouth,” the blonde chuckled, and kyle nodded along with a half smile. you rolled your eyes and snatched your cigarette from between stan’s finger, taking a long drag. then you settled it right back between his extended and expecting fingers, and spun on your heel, and started marching away.

“that’s alright, babe,” the raven haired man called after you, and you could picture the smug grin on his face. “i’ll just tell my dad you don’t want the tegridy family discount anymore.”

that was reason enough for you to turn your little spitfire ass back around.

#stan marsh x reader #south park x reader

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writingwithcolor · 2 years ago

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Jews (and Muslims) in space! AKA fun with halakhic hypotheticals

@whiteraven13 asked:

Hi, I'm writing a sci-fi book that involves a long spaceflight before arriving on a new planet. How would being in space affect things like Shabbat (since no sundown) and praying towards Mecca? I want people's faiths to be important in the book because it always drives me up the wall when sci-fi stories are like "In the future people will be enlightened and won't need religion any more." Thank you!

Oh boy are you in luck, because this is actually something we talk about all the time! An astronaut in our current world doesn’t have the option of taking a full 25 hours off work, but they have in fact marked the beginning of shabbat by lighting electronic shabbat candles. Jewish astronauts have generally observed the shabbat times of their point of takeoff; lighting shabbat candles in orbit therefore has a set precedent.

We don’t yet have a precedent for which direction to face while praying; Judaism and Islam treat this issue differently, since in Islam they face toward the actual direction of Mecca, while in Judaism we face due east even in places where Jerusalem is to the West or North of us. My instinct says that on another planet we would face toward planetary East, but on a long spaceflight my thought is that we would likely not worry about what direction the Jewish prayer space faces, since we also have the convention of facing toward whichever wall the torah scrolls are stored on, regardless of which direction it is. Speaking of which, there has been a torah scroll in space, on more than one occasion.

Judaism has a lot to say about time. We don’t only mark the beginning and end of Shabbat at certain times, we also pray three times a day, at set times, and we observe holidays linked to the seasons--the seasons as they are in Jerusalem, regardless of which hemisphere of the Earth we’re standing on. It might be a jar for characters who have been observing the shabbat times of Houston for years to finally set down on a planet where their sense of time might be completely different--and narrative-wise, that’s not a bad thing: an American Jew stepping off a plane in Australia might have a similar experience.

The question of whether pork products created by a Star Trek style replicator would be kosher is open for constant debate: my gut says that when it came down to it there would be some people who do and some people who don’t accept the kosher status of a replicated pork chop, just as there is now for Impossible or Beyond fake-meat cheeseburgers.

Thank you for your discomfort with the trope of an enlightened future where the traditions of our ancestors have been eradicated, and for wanting to paint a picture of a better future, one where we are valued and given the resources and freedom to preserve and develop our living cultures.

- Meir

I agree with Meir - the good news is these are very realistic dilemmas and you will find lots of relevant commentary online; the bad news is, you will find a lot more questions than answers! But that’s also good news, because you can pick and choose the decisions and outcomes that suit your story. The line of reasoning will matter more than the conclusion.

Not much to add except I answered a slightly similar question with some pointers on things to google and why:

Jewish Character Stuck in Time Loop

Thanks for including our religion and culture in a highly technological future world 😊

- Shoshi

#Jewish #Muslim #science fiction #religion #prayer #holidays #Shabbat #Mecca #asks

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jewishregulus · 5 months ago

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which characters do u hc as jewish? and also would u like to elaborate. id love to hear more about ur hcs. <3

i just got jumpscared by more catholic trauma hcs so let’s get into this!!!

i have three main jewish hcs that i care about very deeply and make content for primarily : those being remus , lily , and the black family ! (wolfstar invented jewish love…..) however i do have other hcs i simply enjoy more passively : dorcas , hermione , lucius , occasionally marlene , and mary! i used to hc pandora as jewish but that was before she was a rosier to me and the rosiers are not jewish in my head but i might sway back towards it 🤞

i have elaborated on jewish lily and the jewish black family in the past so perhaps it is remus lupin’s turn ….. remus is plagued by survivors guilt which i think is really added to by his jewish experience. we are a people who are raised to celebrate our survival and perseverance. i think this would make for an interesting storyline regarding remus and his complex relationship to religion after becoming the Sole Survivor in a way of his friend group …. (obviously sirius is still alive but he’s in azkaban so LOL) … i think in many ways remus would struggle with religion and find comfort in g-d at certain points and then pull back and be more questioning at others. “if there is a g-d he will have to beg for my forgiveness “ (if you use that specific quote for catholic trauma or whatever you should die and go to hell btw) …. he is constantly alienated from the muggle world and viewed as a monster in the wizarding world. his story is very reminiscent to me of certain jewish stereotypes (secret shapeshifters who drink the blood of christian babies blah blah blah) and i think it could be very interesting to see remus battle w these preconceived notions of himself in two different worlds, begging to be understood and viewed as a person in each of them. i like to imagine lyall as a rabbi in many modern aus ! despite remus’ battle w religion i think in the end he feels rlly connected to it and does pray actively and such : because i dislike the trope of religion always being traumatic and harmful especially with jewish characters in which our religion is consistently demonized by the public for evil practices …. this is also why to me remus would only date / marry jewish people bc it’s simply a custom! jewish wolfstar FTW!!!!!!!

my remus is mizrahi, my lily sephardic, and the black family is ashke as hellllllll yall seen them ….. both of remus’ parents r jewish and the black family whole is the most ancient and noble house of judaism, while my lily is patrilineal. i think her n petunia r half sisters and while lily is jewish petunia is not, which creates a divide in their relationship!!

in terms of who i think is actively religious : i think lily remus regulus andromeda and narcissa are , whilst sirius and bellatrix are not particularly , atleast not to the degree it matters to lily remus and regulus!

one of my favorite things abt my jewish hcs is the fact that james potter is just oddly surrounded by jewish people despite not being jewish ….. he loves us fr ……. like all of his closest friends are jewish save for peter 😭 its bc he’s hindu fr like that’s cousin

but my most important jewish marauders thought is that there is another world out there in which hogwarts is a jewish boarding school and i think it’s the timeline we all deserved ….❤️

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grownfairytale · 8 months ago

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Mend My Shattered Existence

Theme(s): Bucky Barnes (Memories, "But I knew him...") mixed with On Your Left (The Smithsonian, PTSD) and To the End of the Line (1940s, Reunion) for @catws-anniversary

Rating: M (Just to be safe)

Word Count: 8,329

Summary: Following pulling Captain America from the Potomac River, the asset - freed from HYDRA's grasp - decides to find out the truth of who he once was. Takes place between the end of Captain America: The Winter Soldier up until Bucky and Steve reunite in Captain America: Civil War

Notes: Thank you to @gay-jewish-bucky for the verbalization/contextualization of the mikvah energy. Bucky is nonbinary and uses (currently) he/him pronouns. Italicized scenes are full on memories (as opposed to descriptions of memories/fragments of memories). A couple of Steve/Bucky scenes come from an RP with a friend. Also available on AO3

AO3 Tags: Bucky Barnes, Introspection, Character study, Nonbinary/Genderqueer Bucky Barnes, Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Implied sex, Implied/Referenced sexual activity, Violence, Referenced experimentation, Antisemitism, Nazis

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Barukh atah Adonai, eloheinu melekh ha-olam, asher kid-shanu b'mitz'votav, v'tzi-vanu al ha-t'vilah.

The first time the asset came up for air after plunging into the water from the helicarrier, the only thing on his mind was survival. It was only for a brief moment before the pull of the current dragged him into the water once more.

Baruch atah adonay, eloheinu, melech haolam, shehechiyanu, v’ kiyimanu, v’ higianu, lazman hazeh.

The second time he came up for air, there was struggle. Grasping. A feeling that something was off, wrong. He shouldn’t care that he was the only one who had come up and yet… A decision was made and it was into the water one more time.

Compassionate God,

Healer of my body,

Healer of my soul,

Heal me.

Strengthen my ailing body;

Soothe my aching heart;

Mend my shattered existence.

Make me whole.

The third time the asset came up, he had made a choice for himself, against his programming. A choice to save instead of destroy. A choice that felt right and not like it went against something deep within. It didn’t make sense but it was instinct and right. In his hand was Captain America, the man he didn’t know (couldn’t know because to know was to bring pain, the scrambling of his mind to nothing but orders). His idealism would end him, but not today. Leaving the man on the bank of the Potomac River as his friends would find him, the asset disappeared in the shadows, a new mission in mind.

As night came, the asset found himself at the Ideal Federal Savings Bank and two of the scientists who had turned him into this, a weapon, were there. The ones who made him do the things he had, the terrible things, the things Captain America didn’t know, the reason he could see him as someone he wasn't. And there was fear in their eyes.

“M…mission report…”

“It’s done. Captain America is dead.”

Their relief was temporary, as that was when the asset struck, his true mission in motion. Revenge for the terrible things that they had done. It would be so easy. One hand pulled back, the other grasping the younger scientist’s neck and then words spoken years ago were repeated.

“I beg you. I have a daughter. P…please…”

Whether it was a veil raising or the fog clearing just a bit more…. The asset couldn’t say. All he knew was that he didn’t want any more blood on his hands. What was there to gain? These men would scurry back to their homes, praying that their own identities would be saved from the release of information. What was there to say or do but disappear into the shadows, to become the ghost story he was in the intelligence community. Money.

Clothes.

Washington D.C. was surveilled but a place of transients coming in and out for work, for travel. Safe houses would be burned, but that didn’t mean ingrained training disappeared. A cheap apartment to rent weekly to lay low in. An indent on the doorframe where…something familiar once had been.

It would be a lie to say the nights were worse, or trying to sleep was when it was worse. After all, the images, the flashes, what he had done… The face in the mirror was wrong. The body, there was too much bulk. The weapon he had been forced to become. And always the pleading that never went away until the silence after the gunshot. A name had been chosen on the off chance one had to be given as it wasn’t like he knew who he was (Captain America called him Bucky, but there was no weight to that name. Nothing that tethered him to it).

Jonathan.

It was only at one place, Loeb’s Deli, where it seemed the asset had made the mistake to go frequently, but again, there was something familiar. And so he needed a name. Different languages spoken all around, words picked up and sentences. Not just about what had happened at the Triskelion, but the information dump, the Senate hearings, what was to come next. Then there were the conversations about the day to day going ons, travel plans. An exhibit at the Smithsonian about Captain America. The former mission. The man he knew but didn’t know. The link to his past.

Did he want to know, should he? Would it matter? It wouldn’t erase the blood or pain, the memories imprinted on his body even as his mind was shattered from decades of being scrambled, erased, all for the mission. Yet there was that tug, and so a week after making that fateful decision to pull Captain America from the water, that instinct to save his life despite the mission, the asset made his way to the Smithsonian, ball cap in place to avoid being caught on camera.

Each wing seemed focused on a different part of Captain America’s life. Some of it was the sort of thing one would expect to read in a museum, yet the asset couldn’t shake the feeling that there were things missing. That feeling was pushed aside though. It was in the wing for the Howling Commandos that things changed. He saw his face there. A panel dedicated to a man he saw glimpses of himself in, James Buchanan Barnes.

Bucky…

Who the hell is Bucky?

The asset turned the name over in his mind. James felt wrong in the way Jonathan was�� wrong, a mask of what was seen, expected. It was something that didn’t make sense, where there weren’t words for. Bucky felt like it had to be earned. Yet it still felt more right than the other two names if only to have something to hold onto other than the asset.

The history of this James Buchanan Barnes was written there, the only Howling Commando to give his life in the line of duty. The words he read flashed images in his mind, but in that moment, the emotional tethers of those images still did not exist. Even so, it was a lead. Information, images, to chase, to see if remembering would wash over the memories that haunted him, chased him no matter the time of day.

With the week lease up, the asset, James, Bucky, made his way to the nearest train yard to sneak onto freight train headed to New York City, a city of cameras and people, a city that memorial said he had grown up, where perhaps the memories would come back, this time perhaps with those emotional connections that would tether the images to something more concrete. Something he could hold onto.

Closing his eyes, the asset let his mind wander to what he had read and seen in the exhibit. But there were other images as well. Enemies closing in. Being separated from the others. Strapped to a table. The pain. That was something he could remember, the fire in his blood. The certainty of death. The words intermixed with his name, rank and serial number. The words he had to say when it seemed clear he would die.

Sh’ma yisrael

Adonai eloheinu

Adonai echad…

The words were mouthed even as the images flashed again, Captain America, Steve Rogers, stood over him, relieved to a pub with the men from the exhibit to a room where Steve Rogers stood before him before his lips were on his own. At least until the formerly captured soldier stepped back warily because these were boundaries that couldn’t be crossed with his best friend. And he didn’t even know if this was real, or pity because hadn’t he just been flirting with someone else hours before? So why the change?

“I…I’m sorry, I thought that you…that I…”

“You don’t need to pity me, I’m fine.” The voice that came out was hard, a way to guard himself. But the shock on Steve’s face made it clear that perhaps Bucky had been misreading the situation, so sure of everything and how it had been before.

“I would never mock you, Buck. I was heartbroken when Phillips said you were most likely dead and I realized that my life wasn’t worth living if I can’t share it with you.”

Those were words Bucky had never expected to hear, let alone from the man in front of him.

“Never say your life is not worth living.” And with that, Bucky kissed Steve, which somehow turned to the two of them on the bed, having to remember to keep quiet as clothing was lost and limbs were entangled. Where breath became a symphony as they found a new dynamic that was always there, simmering beneath the surface, never breached and always just out of reach until now.

And that was enough remembering, Bucky’s eyes snapping open, the images slowly fading away. There should be more emotional weight to what he had seen, what had not been in the Smithsonian exhibit. Perhaps with time but his body remembered, could feel the truth. Now though, he had to get off the train.

New York City would have the answers.

Arriving in Brooklyn, the borough was familiar and unfamiliar. But Bucky was used to readjusting and navigating a new location. The training to gather information, only the information being sought was information on who he had been before. Before the experiments. Before the pain. Before the orders. Before the mindless haze of what was expected by various handlers over the decades, his body not his own but the property of others. No choice. Any sign of remembering, of being Bucky, violently erased time and time again. The training did come in use though. The ability to disappear into the shadows, into the crowds of people without being noticed, without being caught on the many CCTVs the city had.

The paths were familiar. But everything was so much more. It was something Bucky couldn’t explain. Like his feet knew where to go, like he knew that there were more people than there should be, more lights, more sounds. These were things that Bucky pushed down and instead the once Winter Soldier (no, that was all he would ever be to anyone, no matter what he did now) found another rent by the week apartment, only this one had the an empty case where the previous one only had an indent where a case once had been. Instinct and muscle memory were powerful things as Bucky raised his fingers to his lips and pressed it to the empty case, as if it meant something even knowing there should be something of importance and meaning, a promise and reminder, in the case.

Apartment procured, the next thing to do was get enough to survive. Bucky wasn’t sure how long he would be there. What answers he would get, if any, but that would be figured out later. Right now it was getting the necessities, ensuring a go bag was ready for the second he had to up and leave. He was a blank slate, the shadows of memory reaching for him, the most foundational there already.

The mouthed words.

The muscle memory.

What felt familiar even when most of the images and names still were more like a flickering picture reel than anything that felt solid.

The first night out exploring, Bucky just walked wherever his feet took him, familiar paths down unfamiliar streets. Buildings had changed and buildings also seemed the same, or some did. It was hard to say what was real and what wasn’t. The faint outline of people milling about. At least until he stopped in front of one building. The facade was different but the feeling was….

The exhaustion of wearing a mask. As if this was a place to go when the mask was too much. The anxiety of being spotted. More flashes of images and fragments of feelings or thoughts to make some sense of them. Men with towels around their waists or nothing at all, steam. The exploration and expression of needs and desires or just to be, the release from expectations and knowing it was only inside that building, or what had once been that building and others like it, with people like him, where the mask could be dropped.

Another night and it was another flash of memory, two flesh hands instead of one working on a costume, no, not a costume, but something that he could never be caught wearing normally… Something that felt more true than the way everyone saw him. More secrecy. More worry of being caught. But that one night of freedom with others like him to be as he felt the most comfortable in his own skin in a world that had enough issues with him already.

Those images and accompanying thoughts and feelings had been interesting and enough to lead Bucky to the library to do reading and research. With these flashes of images and his own history supposedly stopping in 1945, there were now seventy years of history to look up. Of progress. Of words that maybe could fill in the blanks where words hadn’t even existed before.

The language that was used was different now… it seemed the bathhouses still existed - not like Bucky had much interest in that. And the history book mentioned the other flashes of memories seemed to line up with something known as drag balls or fairy balls, most popular during the Pansy Craze that had died out when he would have been 18, yet some had still gone on for a bit later. But more than that, there was language for that fleeting feeling he had felt.

The feeling that he had just brushed aside as being because he had no identity beyond what was given to him as the asset, before he now was searching for who he had been and who he could be.

This feeling of being in his skin, his body. How he approached and felt about the way society saw him and he saw himself. Mouthing the terms genderqueer and nonbinary to himself, Bucky filed the information away. There was more reading to be done but the library was closing and there were candles to light as it was Friday night. What that meant, Bucky couldn’t quite say, but he knew that it meant something and that something was going to be a lifeline.

Nights remained the hardest though. Because at night on the floor, the images had more weight to them.

The orders that came from his handlers.

The pleading.

The violence that followed him wherever he went

The blood that never washed away.

Then there were the other nights.

The scientists that hovered over him.

The feeling of his blood on fire.

Being strapped onto board. Trapped.

Exposed.

He couldn’t breathe.

He would never be free.

Was it a wonder he barely slept? When those were the flashes that had the most emotional weight? That felt the most real? And it wasn’t as if the nightmares, the memories, were just from his time as the asset. The Winter Soldier. No. These came from before, during the war. Fighting to protect those in his unit, dragged to where no one came back from… The knowing look that his dog tags were a lie…

Even so, every day, Bucky would wander and get more flashes. A scrawny kid getting beat up and stepping in and forever being by that kid’s side.

That had to be Steve. The museum exhibit had said that they had been inseparable both on the schoolyard and the battlefield since childhood.

Images of three sisters, a family, dinner with candles, traditions that he felt in his bones. The familiar recitations, movements, the scents. The people were still faint but those, those were more familiar, more grounding. Those memories became part of Bucky’s weekly routine. He had found a building he wanted to go into, but it was too much of a risk and so he didn’t. But he could feel it in his bones…

And he knew that the memorial lied about his history. Was it the dog tags he knew had lies on them in his dreams? The knowing look, the spike of anxiety from deep within that went beyond just being strapped and at the mercy of HYDRA?

It was something more to look into.

Because if the memorial lied, or had gotten that part wrong, what else had it gotten wrong? As the Winter Soldier, he had helped to topple governments, he may have been nothing more than a weapon, but he knew how propaganda worked. What was the point? The things that wouldn’t be known? Sure, but that integral part of himself that he had never been able to hide, and hadn’t until the war, why hide it?

There were other flashes and memories as well, the ones that showed a side of America that it seemed history was all too keen to forget about. Questions about having horns or a tail by some kid at a funeral for…. Was that Steve’s mother? It would make sense. Snide comments. Listening to the radio and suddenly he was hearing someone else, a Father Charles Coughlin and seeing his Social Justice magazine printed with all sorts of antisemitism including claims of how America should just wait until Hitler came over to America and sending Jews away. Nazis at Madison Square Gardens. The America First Committee and German American Bund, watching the growing concerns in his family. Whispers of if it would be wise to leave. But where would be safe?

These images painted a fuller picture, the love and joy, the friendship, but the harsh reality, yet still, the realest thing remained the Friday night candles. The blessing over wine and spices and the braided candle on Saturday.

Bucky spent three and a half months in New York City, going to places that were familiar - Yonah Schimmel’s Knish Bakery had an oddly familiar sense to it, somewhere he had gone before. It was comforting. Bucky had found a lot of places like that in the neighborhood he had found for his weekly rental. The mix of images, good and bad, from a time long forgotten, glorified and polished with a veneer of respectability with none of those pesky things that people would have to take a closer look at, to deconstruct and grapple with. It was the past after all and look at this bright and shiny future. And in the midst of that, he had done more reading. On what he had missed in general. And more of who he might be. So when the parade came, it was… Bucky didn’t quite have the words. To see something that was now more embraced, accepted that once had been hidden for fear, that he never would have been able to voice, that he kept locked away (the museum said he had been a lady’s man….he might not have a solid grasp on his memories but what those images like a picture film showed? Definitely contradicted that particular statement). It should be overwhelming. And it was in its own way even as he observed from the shadows. So many people embracing who they were, open and proud. It was… beautiful.

And there was a twinge that Bucky couldn’t quite place.

The following day had started like any other, Bucky had awoken in a cold sweat, not certain where he was or who he was at first before awareness slowly settled in, then getting something warm into him before going to wander. But across the way at midday was him. Captain America. Steve Rogers. And the truth he had been avoiding came crashing down. He couldn’t stay in New York. Not only were there world governments after him, especially thanks to the dump of information, but the Avengers were based in New York City and it was only a matter of time before he risked running into the man who seemingly knew him - certainly better than he currently knew himself. Let alone in a city with so much surveillance, no matter his skill at avoiding detection.

No. It was dangerous to chase after information on who he had once been. That didn’t mean not being prepared though. Besides, it wasn’t like he could trust himself not to be a risk and threat to the man who had once been something to him, even if that something remained undefined and unspoken in the shadows of memory that faded from his grasp.

Which was how Bucky found himself in Bucharest, in another small apartment with papered over windows. But it was fine, he didn’t need much anyway. His go bag was in the floorboards, ready to leave at a moment’s notice, exit strategy scoped out. Bucharest was also where some semblance of a life began for Bucky.

The country was more conservative than New York had been and in that sense, it was more familiar to a past still mostly forgotten. Despite advances in LGBTQ rights (if only for political reasons to be able to join the European Union based on reading Bucky had done), the only place he would be able to explore gender expression would be his apartment. And it wasn’t like he had any real desire to seek out sex or a relationship. He couldn’t let anyone close and there just wasn’t that interest and as he mostly stuck to himself, there was less of a mask to be worn that required that release of tension.

The only community Bucky did seek out was the Jewish community. He hadn’t been able to seek it out in New York. While much larger than the Jewish community in Romania, the need to remain hidden had been worse in New York and here? Here Bucky, or Ion as he was known, was easier. It was grounding. The traditions that he had picked up and done, Shabbat, remained, but now he went to shul, he made sure to know what holiday fell when.

It was the first day of Rosh Hashanah and honestly, the idea of tashlich, of casting away of his sins seemed suspect at best. Oh, Bucky went to the Dambovita River and cast sticks into the water, though how could one cast away sins where there were holes in his memory? And the actions of the Winter Soldier were far too great… It made him dread Yom Kippur. How do you make amends to those who are dead? When families could be dead at this point? When you’re in hiding? All Bucky could do was not be that person anymore, to run from the trigger words inside of him, knowing he was still a risk, a danger. So when he cast away his sins, he also focused on what he wanted for this new year. A better grasp on who he was.

Once home, Bucky had changed into a long skirt and blouse, covering his hair with a tichel. It was something for him, no one else. He was used to hiding himself already, but no one would be coming by. It was a regular routine by that point, grounding. He didn’t have any friends, nor could he. Even at the synagogue he had found, he kept mostly to himself. It was too dangerous. But he did make sure to take care of the stray cats in the neighborhood, one he had dubbed Kochava even tended to come inside more often than not. It wasn’t like most nights though, as there were candles to be lit.

The difference though, was that some of the images from that would flicker in and out of his mind at random seemed to be longer, the picture film images were longer. The film not so filled with holes.

The first one involved the woman Bucky recognized as his sister, Rebecca, sitting at a table with a heavy air over them, draft notice in Bucky’s hand.

“What if you get captured? Don’t come home?”

It was a question that had been on Bucky’s mind as well. Going into war, to fight in Europe at that, well…there were going to be added risks for him.

“The Army’s made it so, if we want, Jews can have a P put on our dog tags to mark as Protestant instead of the H…Better than trying to obscure it and drawing attention that way.” It left a foul taste in Bucky’s mouth, to deny such an integral part of who he was, but if it meant being able to have some form of protection, he should take it, right?

“So that’s that then.” “What would you have me do, Becca?” Looking at his sister, he could tell she was just as at much of a loss as he was. Everything was so complicated. All there was to do was take this one step at a time, even if it left a pit in his stomach to do so.

Then he had to figure out how to tell Steve. Steve, who was always so willing to jump into a fight. Steve, who was desperate to join the Army, who refused to acknowledge there were other ways to help the war effort besides throwing his life away on the front in a desperate attempt to emulate his father because he had a chip on his shoulder and something to prove. Bucky could see what was hidden within the skinny, sick frame of his best friend, the person he couldn’t bear to lose. So how to tell him that he’d been drafted, that he hadn’t chosen this at all?

As the memory faded, the impression remained and Bucky just blinked. Usually whatever emotional weight or impression would be gone as well but this time, this time it remained. Lingered in his mind, in his soul and consciousness. Huffing out a breath, all Bucky could do was watch as the flames of the candles, wondering if this was a fluke, or if there had been a shift and there would be more memories that would linger, if the emotional weight would remain. And then the more terrifying question.

If he did remain, what did that mean?

It soon became clear that it wasn’t a fluke. There was never telling when a memory would strike, good or bad. But the more Bucky became grounded in himself through tradition - be it Shabbat or just recreating recipes from the past, and reconnecting with that part of who he were, as well as exploring what felt comfortable to dress in when there was no one around, free to be true to himself, the more the memories would come.

They weren’t all new memories. A lot of holes from previous ones seemed to be filling in. The emotional ties that had been missing regarding his family. Regarding Steve.

Steve who he had taken upon himself to protect from that first fight on the play yard.

Steve who terrified him whenever he got sick and nearly died.

Steve who was stubborn as a mule and made Bucky want to bang his head on a wall sometimes.

Steve who was the best person he knew and he never wanted to let down and so Bucky had sworn never to let him know about the part of himself he couldn’t reveal to anyone outside of specific safe walls. Because he would either reject him because that was society and he was Irish Catholic so it would just be a bridge too far for him (unlikely) or he would start picking even more fights because of things said and that was the last thing Bucky needed (likely).

Steve, who was the most important person to Bucky outside of family, who was family really and Bucky loved. But only as a brother because that was all it ever could be because Steve was Irish Catholic and as far he could tell? Very much straight. And so to avoid losing his best friend by crossing boundaries, Bucky ensured a mental barrier was in place so his feelings would never go beyond that. He couldn’t lose Steve.

Yet the other flashes of memories seemed to tell a different story. The ones in the lead up to the war? Sure. They tell that story, but the ones from after… Stolen moments where it is clear that Steven Grant Rogers is definitely not straight. There were still holes in Bucky’s memories, memories that came out of order, but that was something that was becoming more clear.

And as the months went on, the memories that came happened even when Bucky wasn’t doing something rooted in the foundation he had created for himself. Though often they came while in the apartment where there was nothing that really made it a home as the former Winter Soldier in search of who he had once been knew that nothing was ever going to be permanent. After all, there was nothing in Bucharest to trigger the memories. Not like in New York.

Bucky didn’t know how long it had been since Steve had come to his room, how long they had been lost in one another, learning new things about one another… just that his curls were sticking to his forehead and he were curled up against the super soldier, his arm holding him protectively as he traced designs on his chest, his arm, his abdomen, in the silent moments of calm. But there was still that lingering question… so even as he was still catching his breath, now seemed as good a time as any (and really, who knew when another time would come up), Bucky decided to ask even as he kept his focus on the absent minded design tracing he were doing, “So… going to tell me how this happened?”

He could feel Steve shift some, as if he knew the question was coming, and really…how could it not?

“A doctor working with the Army and Strategic Scientific Reserve thought I was the perfect candidate for his serum he wanted to try out. To create a super soldier to help turn the tide of the war. It worked but… Dr. Erskine was shot and killed by a HYDRA assassin right after I became this. Phillips wanted to stick me in a lab, but Senator Brant got me to be a seller of war bonds.”

Bucky listened intently as Steve explained what had happened. It had to have been at the Stark Expo, the fight from before he shipped out. And yet? He looked up at the man he was curled up against through his curls, quirking a brow, “So… you let a Jewish scientist run an experiment on you in order to create a super soldier to fight the Nazis, who are killing the Jewish people… Meaning you became a golem. Do I have that right?” Noticing the blush Steve had, Bucky waited until he got his answer.

“Pretty much. Think I prefer that to being the performing monkey Brant made me.”

“A golem is much preferable to a performing monkey.”

Steve began to stroke Bucky’s hair as he continued to speak, Bucky leaning into his touch, “Dr. Erskine said a guy like me who’d never known power would respect it when they have it…. I made a promise to him to stay a good man…”

Seeing the way that Steve was staring at the hand he was holding up by that point, Bucky shifted and kissed the spot over his heart, reaching up to take the raised hand and interlace their fingers, “I know you will.”

The news coming out of Sokovia was….well, it was one of the things he had worried about. There was always going to be another threat. And this time? It wasn’t all glowing headlines about them saving the day, or taking down another HYDRA base. No. Like in D.C., like in Lagos, people had died. And people were angry. The question was what would come after this. Would any action be done or would people move on? Only time would tell it seemed.

If Bucky could stay with those memories, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. But he couldn’t. Because at night, especially when Kochava hadn’t decided to follow him into the apartment and sleep right against him, the nightmares remained. Waking up unable to breathe, heart rate erratic and covered in a cold sweat. Sometimes it was the orders from his handlers that whispered in the silence. Sometimes the words of Zola, his scientists.

Bucky fucking hated scientists these days.

The unit that had been captured behind enemy lines, and Bucky, along with Dum Dum Dugan and Gabe Jones were forced to the weapons factory along with others who had been captured. The thing Becca had been most worried about, he had been most worried about… Bucky did his best to keep track of where he was going, the path, anything, but his head was swimming.

At some point, they arrived, and they were shoved into a cold room, each captured soldier to be examined and processed. When it was his turn, Bucky was unceremoniously pushed into the center of the room, stripped for the scientists to examine, to determine who was to go work and who was to go behind the closed doors, never to be seen again.

It was the chuckle that sent the shiver down his spine as opposed to the coldness of the room.

“How interesting… What have we here, Juden? You played a gamble, proved as sneaky as the rest of your kind and now you are my rat.”

Eyes blazing, Bucky growled and lunged forward only to be beaten down with what felt like an electrified baton by someone he would later learn was named Lohmer.

“Yes, yes. Let me see your hatred. That fire. You think you are strong…” Struggling for breath, Bucky could only glare up through the pain as the scientist who was speaking came over to him, spitting at him, only to feel the electric current once more run through his body, “Oh, you will be fun to break, to become my lab rat. Make no mistake, you won’t survive this, but your contribution to the great cause will be appreciated.” Pulled up, Bucky was allowed to redress and join the others in a cell until they were all put to work. But it was clear as the days went on that he, along with certain others, were targeted by the guards for punishment. Food that wasn’t quite right. More demanding positions. Beatings. Bucky did what he could to keep track of everything, as if he might get out. But it was clear that those who were sent behind the doors, the doors the scientist promised he’d be behind, never came out.

The worse it got, the more he struggled. The beatings were worse, he grew weaker. The others in the cell would fight, but they also bonded. Time lost meaning. So when Bucky was finally brought back and strapped to the table, he fought as best he could even as he’d been weakened by whatever food he’d been given and the constant cold and the beatings.

“We meet again… let’s begin, shall we?”If Bucky thought it was bad before, it had just gotten so much worse.

It was bad enough to have his mind and identity wiped, to be so scrambled he didn’t know who he was. To lose that foundational core of who he was. But to become a weapon for the group who sought to destroy his people like so many before, to kill them and erase them…. It made Bucky’s blood boil. And the anger that almost never went away with that. Kochava would jump on his lap whenever the anger was at a danger point, calm him but it was so much. It hurt so much. And there was never going to be anything he could do to atone. It wasn’t him but did that matter?

Every time a part of him came through, he was strapped down again, scrambled, so there was nothing left. They tracked him. His vitals. How many times now had Bucky tried to scratch and dig those out? Each time he thought he had gotten the last of them, of the tracking devices, the paranoid part of his brain said there was more. But no one had used them to search for him, so they had to be out… right?

It was only a few weeks after the events in Sokovia when Bucharest had its own Pride Parade. Nothing like that in New York, but apparently it had gotten over double the people this year than the previous year (over 1,000 people as opposed to 400). Bucky of course wasn’t going to go. He kept a low profile. But it was nice to see all the same.

At the same time, while it didn’t trigger a memory per se, it did make something fall into place. Again, one of those things where he didn’t have the words necessarily back in the 30s and 40s that he had now (even as he was still wrapping his mind around it all and figuring out what worked best for him). Admittedly, he hadn’t really looked into sexuality while in New York and he likely wouldn’t while here as it didn’t seem pertinent when one was in hiding. But it was still a realization all the same.

He had always known that having sex with a woman was not something that had any interest for him. Flirting and charming was just an act and what was expected to keep suspicion off of him. So he’d gone to the gay bathhouses whenever that mask of masculinity had been overbearing. The exploration and experimentation, learning what he liked and didn’t. Even in the heat and steam of the bathhouses, Bucky on his knees for someone, or using his hands on someone, he responded to the physical stimuli and enjoyed it, but just seeing someone? It never did anything.

Until Steve showed up in the pub in that damn suit, when Bucky’s mind was still out of sorts and all attempts to keep the barrier in place that he could only love him as a friend or brother were well and truly shattered. Because there was that connection and deep bond the two had always had. And dammit if Bucky hadn’t wanted that man to jump him there and then, despite the law. Wanted to be with him and screw what society said. No one had ever made Bucky feel the way Steve did.

Steve eventually had said that he had never really thought about his own sexuality. Women never did anything for him, and who would want some scrawny guy anyway? He had just been waiting for the right person. Then things had clicked that night in the pub as well for him and that was all there was to it. There were appearances to be had, of course, but the two knew the truth and wasn’t that the important thing?

Steve had made his pitch for the Howling Commandos, and of course, despite it all, Bucky had agreed. Where Steve went, Bucky followed. It had always been that way, from the very beginning. It might not have seemed that way but that didn’t change the fact that it always had been. Someone had to have his back. And because Bucky had had way too many drinks by that point, trying to drown the crushing realization that he could never walk back from, he had let slip just a bit of his thoughts. His feelings. As if that declaration to follow Steve hadn’t been a declaration in and of itself. So leaning forward so only the super soldier could hear, Bucky spoke almost conspiratorially, flirting, charming.

“You’re keeping the outfit, right?” And then leaned back with a quick once over of his best friend, because that had been smooth. No it hadn’t. Bucky, for all the suave bravado he was putting on, was still a mess from what HYDRA had done to him at Azzano. And if Steve clearly thought he was messing with him, thinking he meant the Captain America one and not what he was wearing at the moment.

“You know what, it’s kind of growing on me.”

Then a hush seemed to come over the pub as the agent walked in, so of course both stood up as she walked to where they had been sitting.

“Captain.”“Agent Carter.”

Bucky had to give her taste in the dress she wore. It was very eye-catching and he wouldn’t mind wearing something similar.

“Ma’am.” He received the briefest of acknowledgement before she turned her attention back to Steve. Yeah. That was clearly a thing.

“Howard has some equipment he would like for you to try. Tomorrow morning?”

“Sounds good.”

“I see your top squad is prepping for duty.” With the tension between the two (how else was there to read it?) Bucky just put on the charm, the facade, that was always there, that was expected of him.

“You don’t like music?”

“I do, actually. I might, even, when this is all over, go dancing.” And yet she kept her attention on Steve, not even paying attention to him. Which fine. Not like he could blame her, she was seeing him the way Bucky always had. Okay, time to try harder. If only to prove to himself that he wasn't broken like Zola had promised to do to him.

“Then what are we waiting for?”

“The right partner. Nine sharp, Captain.”

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll be there.”

Watching as Peggy walked away, there was only one thing that came to mind, one dangerous thing clawing at his mind that he had always avoided being.

“I’m invisible,” To be invisible made it easier to be disappeared by people who wanted you gone. So Bucky had always been the top of his class, best at athletics, the charmer even when he never actually did anything, it was a well honed mask to protect him and it was shattered, “I’m turning into you.” Not the nicest thing to say but he was supposed to be messing with Steve, the same back and forth they always had and he couldn’t let him see the truth, “This is a horrible dream.”

“Don’t take it so hard. Maybe she has a friend.” As Steve patted his shoulder, it was clear he had seemed to buy it. At least in that moment, which was what Bucky had wanted. Yet it still stung, so he just shook his head.

“I’m heading up for the night. Try not to get into too much trouble without me.”

Leaving the pub, Bucky headed up to where the group had been put up for their leave, showering to get a hold of himself. He knew this was how it was going to be, so he just had to pull himself together. This was why that barrier had existed in the first place. It was while he’d been toweling off after putting pajama pants on that he heard the knock at his door. And who was there but Steve. “Everything okay?” “Yeah… Can I come in?” As if Bucky would turn Steve away, he just stepped aside to let his now taller best friend in (would that ever stop being weird?). He looked… well he didn’t look drunk but like he’d been thinking over things.

“I just want you to know, you aren’t invisible, and that I see you. The real you.” Just what was Steve on? The whole point was for him to think that he had been messing around with him like he always did. He hadn’t needed to read anything more into that. It was dangerous for him to do that.

“O…kay….” But suddenly the blond man was in his space and kissing him and he was kissing him back and nothing was making sense but everything was falling into place the way it always should have been.

Spring turned into summer and summer turned into fall and once again it was Rosh Hashanah and once again the idea of casting tashlich seemed pointless. Because even as his memories were coming more and more, the missions, who he had been, there was still no way to make amends, there was still no way to make it right. He couldn’t even trust his own mind after all. He had found more of himself, not so much a complete balance - that could never come - but he knew who he was. Had his foundation, for there were days when he forgot all over again but the traditions remained and the memories came back. He could be more true to himself in the safety of the apartment for as long as he remained hidden.

Bucky was eating an apple when he noticed his reflection, he had tried some makeup this time along with the skirt and blouse, hair styled, which just led to his mind drifting.

It was another stolen moment in the midst of war, doing what they could to be together and just being the same as they always had. It turned out, nothing had really changed in that regard and why should it?

“You know, get me into a USO outfit, some Victory Red lipstick, then if someone asks you, you can just say you lost your virginity during the USO tour.” “Oh yeah?” There’s amusement in Steve’s eyes at that and Bucky is keeping the tone light even though there’s a part of him that wishes Steve knew that he wasn't actually joking. Maybe about the specific outfit, but the idea in general? To let him see that part of him?

“Yeah. I bet my legs would look amazing.” “You know? I can see it.” There’s laughter in Steve’s voice but just for a moment, Bucky lets himself imagine a time and place where he can show that part of himself to him. After the war. Where it isn’t him just joking around. Or Steve joking and Bucky hiding the truth behind a joke.

Well, Steve was never going to get to see that part of him. Like the rest of the world, he saw him as the Winter Soldier. Bucky had known from the beginning that was who he would always be now. No matter what he did, even if there were some way to atone, in the end, he had killed too many, done too much…. Steve was hunting down the Winter Soldier, so even if Bucky could trust his mind to be around Steve without the risk of hurting him again - god how could he have hurt Steve? - It was too late for them.

The memories continued to flesh out. To become etched in Bucky’s soul over the foundation of his culture, his traditions, that grounding force that had brought him out of the Potomac River. There were memories he couldn’t tell if they were real or not, and there was no one there to tell him one way or the other. There was no way to tell, really, how long he had been out of hibernation for HYDRA either. If he weren’t on a mission, he’d been put into hibernation.

So Bucky continued the tenuous life he had made for himself in Bucharest, always waiting for the other shoe to drop. He had left New York because it had been dangerous looking for answers, yet the memories had come anyway. He had known that he would always need to be ready for the worst to come and it was coming on to two years of being in the same location. Tensions hadn’t eased since the previous year and Sokovia either. No. Bucky followed the news. The fact that so many world governments were on the same page, meeting together.

It was a recipe for disaster.

Which was why it came as no surprise when Bucky was out getting food for the week when he felt eyes on him then that someone disappeared. Going to the newstand, he saw the news from Austria. He had apparently attacked the signing of the Sokovia Accords, killing people.

Except…. He hadn’t done that. Even with waking up at times not knowing who or where he was, he hadn’t blacked out long enough for that to be possible. Which meant it was time to leave. So much for getting the rest of his food. Bucky quickly headed to his apartment, mind going over what was needed. Well, nothing. He kept almost nothing there, just the necessities, he had his go bag still ready to go, and he could only hope someone else would take up the cause of the stray cats abandoned to the streets.

What he wasn't expecting (but probably should have) was to see Captain America standing in his apartment. And if he was there, others would be there soon as well.

You’re. My. Mission.

Then finish it, cuz I’m with you to the end of the line.

He hadn’t heard him come in yet, too engrossed in what he was reading. Which meant he had found his journal of important dates, of memories that he was trying to keep track of given there was no linear fashion to how they happened or way to tell at times.

Thank you, Buck, but I can get by on my own.

The thing is, you don’t have to. I’m with you to the end of the line, pal.

“Understood.”

Captain America was talking to someone but finally seemed to realize he wasn’t alone in the apartment, and just as Bucky assumed, one of his journals of memories was in his hand as he turned to face him.

“You know me?”

You ready to follow Captain America into the jaws of death?Hell, no. That little guy from Brooklyn who was too dumb not to run away from a fight? I’m following him.

“You’re Steve.”

#catws10 #bucky barnes #steve rogers #steve x bucky #stucky #jewish bucky barnes

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