#mamabarnes

Before the war, Winifred’s home had often been abuzz with visitor, never stopping, constant with her children and their friends and her neighbours and all sorts of things. Now it’s quiet. Oh, her daughters still visit, and they bring their own children with them now, but it’s not the same. Her husband is six feet under now, her son lost in some far off field in Europe, and Winifred is alone. 

@mamabarnes​ said;  “Don’t give me that look.”

George loved this City. There was always something to do.

It was 1915, he was 23. Lou had told him to go find a girl; end the streak of bad luck that was his love life. Here he was, respectably dressed, looking over his glass at the sweetest gal in the hall. He smiles, raising it to her, and takes a drink.

misc. angst starters | @mamabarnes​ said: when were you going to tell me? (winnie getting told about bucky and steve?)

Maybe it had been a mistake coming here. Peggy knew that Winifred had received Colonel Phillips’ condolence letters, though those had been shipped out far before the war’s end and everyone’s return stateside. But they were vague, and not unintentionally. Just a few lines of text -- Dear Mr/Mrs So & So, I regret to inform you, please accept my deepest sympathies, that sort of thing. 

Peggy looked into Winifred’s face and saw the same look her own mother had worn when she’d been informed that Michael, Peggy’s oldest and only brother, had been killed in action. That was why she’d waited to come here. Perhaps this should have been her first stop upon her return to Brooklyn, but it wasn’t, because she’d had a feeling she’d have to look into another mother’s eyes and see that pain. She was still recovering from the loss of Steve, his last words and broken promise playing on an endless loop in her head.

But she’d felt that Winifred deserved to know how her boys really died, and it’d been gnawing at her for weeks. And yet, even after telling Winifred what she could, Peggy didn’t feel any better; she wrung her hands together like a child. They were both gone, one to the mountains and one to the sea. All she’d wanted -- all she’d tried to do -- was to keep them safe. She didn’t even have a set of dog tags to bring home. 

it’s a complete coincidence that griffith happens to be on this street at this exact time- a moment of sheer luck, really. he’s deviated from his daily walking path due to excessive foot traffic, and he just happens to see the woman crossing the road. griffith sees the automobile coming towards her, too, and he’s quite sure she doesn’t. “miss!” he calls out before he has a chance to stop himself, hurtling towards the street. a streak of bright blue leaves his palm and hits the hood of the auto, stopping it in its tracks with a puff of smoke. “are you all right?”