nineteen forties


It turns out that it/she matters to me. Leia. Unfortunately. Sometimes I feel as if I’d rather concern myself with…almost anything. But as it happens I’ve spent the lion’s share of my life, starting at nineteen and continuing forty years on jauntily in the present, being as much myself as Princess Leia. ― Carrie Fisher, The Princess Diarist

Just chillin’ (Tyler x Reader) fluffy short

Originally posted by jiminy-krispies

(( gif not mine ))

(A/n): this is great tho

Request:  Could you do a Tylerxreader where teamiplier is doing an icebath challenge, and when it’s readers turn something goes wrong with the camera and they need to take a timeout to fix it, but reader is already in the bath like oh well and has no self preservation. So team goes to fix it while she chills (ha) in the bath, and it takes longer than they thought. So when they come back, reader isn’t near death, but definitely has hypothermia, and everyone’s like oh shit get out. Cue Tyler being the hero!

Warnings: none? swearing? fluffy heck?


“Guess who’s turn it is~!”


“I already went-” Mark laughed.


(Y/n) flickered her eyes around the faces closest to her, also letting them pierce the camera’s lens.

“I have balls of steel!” she declared, pulling a funny face. She flexed her arms and channeled a low voice “I will fight this challenge.”

“Please don’t.” commented her knight, offering (Y/n) a kind stare.

The girl threw at him a dopey smile, blowing the tall male a kiss. Tyler ony rolled his blue eyes, and hushed himself from smiling. Instead, he narrowed his gaze at his girlfriend.

“And here we see a front line nurse leaving her husband to serve in World War Two. Nineteen forty- colourized.” joked Ethan, hauling up the camera to meet (Y/n)’s face which looked absolutely devastated. The girl walked slowly backward- away from Tyler and to the tub.

“Remember mE-!” (Y/n) shrieked, dropping a bit of her foot below the water’s surface.

The boys laughed, almost masking (Y/n)’s comment of how the temperature didn’t actually bother her much. Hastily, she submerged herself- propping up her arms lazily on the edges of the bath with her legs crossed.

“I fully expected her to scream.” admitted Mark. Tyler giggled before Ethan spoke up in shamefully confusion.

“Mark, the camera keeps glitching… still. Do you want to switch it to the one in the studio?”

Mark double glanced at the blue haired male and nodded “Yeah. Before we start reading off the questions; that’d be smart”

As the trio pooled around the door, Ethan didn’t forget to ask (Y/n) if she was okay with them leaving for ‘like three seconds’. She said:

“Yeah, I’m totally okay with that- this shit is relaxing.”

The group thought of her as being sarcastic and offering up a joke- they promised the girl they’d be quick and pushed themselves out of the bathroom.

(Y/n) chuckled thickly, looking back ahead of her. The painted wall sent her blank stares.

Alone, she sighed, dipping lower into the liquid. (Y/n) gently shut her eyelids, absorbing the cool caress of the water from around her. She knew she wasn’t joking- this was extremely relaxing. Having idle ice cubes tickle past her clothed and not clothed skin.

The soft noises of a grandfather clock hummed about, showing endless support. Time skipped past her mind in a rush.

They were taking a while.

With blocked vision, (Y/n) couldn’t see how pale her skin was getting. Or how it was beginning to cascade quaint blue on all ends.

They were taking a while.

Looks like she couldn’t feel it.

“Okay- okay, we have the better camera.” finally called Ethan, re entering the restroom; his friends following.

“Wait, (Y/n)- (Y/n)!”

Mellowdramatic whines charmed the walls, conveying certain concern for the girl in the ceramic tub. She opening her eyes to their words.

“Que?” she jokes, lifting her head briefly.

“Get out of the fucking water-!” the shorter brunette demanded dumbly, on the stand of laughing.

“But we have the shit to–” (Y/n) came to her own defence.

Futile, though, her words were. They were physically cut short by a literal chest.

Tyler had wasted little to no time with words- knowing it only to be an effort that would have gone unrecognized. He had, in a more literal sense, swept (Y/n) off her ass.

Plucking her from the cold fluids, all at once she rested easy; cradled in Tyler’s arms. The course of action was quick, and sweet.

“Ty?” (Y/n) inquired, allowing herself to be held. The boy walked, with the girl as his cargo, over away from the bath. They watched when Ethan and Mark spilled giggles, making quick work of setting up the camera.

The broken camera laid somewhere upon the counters.

“Yeah?” responded Tyler, gripping his arms tighter.

“Can’t you give me like a blanket or something? If it’s really this bad.”

“I think this is fine.” Tyler stated.

“I can warm you on my own.”

That phrase did a jolly good job at silencing (Y/n).

“So stop being stupid and let me~” the male laughed. Funnily, he buried his warm face in the bend of (Y/n)’s stomach. At least he knew he was blushing- the sudden heat residing in his cheeks was harnessed to his advantage.

She couldn’t see it, similar to her own colour, but Tyler and herself were contrasting. Blue to red.

The sound of a snapshot rang clear. It was pointed in the couple’s general direction.

“This camera maybe can’t record, but it can take wicked photos!” Ethan cheered.

The girl of blue and man clad with red positioned in the photo bleed playful joy. Perfect hero for a dumb would be travesty.


(A/n): wow look I wrote something

Naughty Boy*

Steve Rogers x Reader Fic

Paring: Steve Rogers x Reader  |  Word Count: 2068
Warnings: Fluff, Embarrassed Steve, Smut NSFW (18+)

Song: Nasty Naughty Boy by Christina Aguilera (this is what happens when I spend the day trolling Spotify instead of being productive.)

Summary: Steve’s birthday takes a surprising turn.

“What in the world are we doing here?” Steve asked, cheeks already reddening.

“You only turn a hundred once, Cap,” Natasha snickered, leading Steve toward a table just slightly off center of the stage.

“Yeah, but…” he sighed when Bucky clamped the metal hand on his shoulder and shoved him in a chair.

“You’re such a wuss. It’s not a strip club, so what’s your beef?” Bucky snickered.

“Yeah, Cap. It’s burlesque. You don’t even get to see… the fun bits,” Sam snickered. “Plus, this is a nice place. Classy.”

Keep reading

For @wahwahwaffles, this probably isn’t what you had in mind but it’s here anyway?

Bucky woke up on the outskirts of Santa Rosa. It was dawn and Steve was pulling the car into the parking lot of some tiny coffee place. Bucky’s neck hurt from sleeping with his head against the window. He refrained from comment when Steve chose what all Bucky’s training told him was the wrong parking spot, just wordlessly stretched his neck and shoulder as Steve went inside. When he came back out again, Bucky was handed a bag of donuts and coffee with not enough cream.

“Where are we?” Bucked asked, voice rough from sleep.

“New Mexico.”

“We headed for the border? I can drive if you wanna sleep?”

“Nah, I got it. We’re not going to the border, though. We’re going to Puente Antiguo.”

Rather than going back out onto the interstate, Steve took a smaller road. Bucky scratched at his hair, wondering when he would next get the chance to wash it. “What the fuck is in Puente Antiguo?”

“Not much, but I got a surprised lined up for you.”

“I’m a hundred years old now, I can’t handle surprises.” Bucky took a scalding gulp of coffee.

Steve laughed, “you’ll like this one. Now gimme a donut.”

Bucky held out the bag and let Steve rummage through it for the chocolate coated one. Then he let Steve keep driving and blearily watched the desert roll by.

If Bucky had ever been to this part of the country, he didn’t remember. It looked exactly how he’d picture it, so maybe he had. He used to know someone from here. A girl. Long ago, before the war. 

He rolled down the window and let the cool air blow his hair around. He squeezed his eyes shut and remembered: Darcy and the best six months of his life.

He almost wished the memories weren’t there. It was painful to think of how young and stupid and happy he’d been. Finding a dame in the park, in tears after her purse got stolen. He and Steve had put her up in their apartment, sharing Steve’s bed and giving Bucky’s room to Darcy. They’d helped her out, got her clothes even if they were secondhand. Bucky had scored her a job; a filing girl in the same building where he worked in the mailroom, he seemed to recall. Or had she been in the mailroom and he was something else? He definitely remembered the two of them walking to and from work every day, arm in arm. And that his boss thought they looked good together. Darcy had been sweet and funny. A little firecracker, no taller than Steve. And always wore that sweater with the cherries embroidered on the chest. She’d paid their kindness back, putting her money in with theirs for food and rent. And she’d paid them back in kisses, and in gentle little touches, like cuddling up to Steve while he was doing the dishes and nuzzling at the back of his neck. Or sitting on Bucky’s knee while they both read the paper. Outside, she was Bucky’s girl. But behind closed doors, it was Bucky and Steve and Darcy. No matter how much the neighbours tsked and told them they were living in sin, playing house.

Bucky hoped that wasn’t the surprise. That Steve had tracked down Darcy, now an old lady. He didn’t care if he was selfish, not wanting to see the family she must have built for herself when she’d gone back to New Mexico. She’d deserved a happy life, not to see him now as a shell of soldier. Would it be better or worse to simply arrive at her grave?

“You’re not even gonna give me a clue?” Bucky asked.

“Nope. This was way too long and complicated to track down to start spoiling it now.”

They passed a roadsign, ‘Puente Antiguo 19 miles.’

There was an uptick in traffic as people started making their way to work. The temperature rose and the sun brightened in the sky.

Puente Antiguo turned out to be a thin veneer of a town scraped across a section of desert. A diner, a garage, a pet store, a cluster of houses. Farm houses speckled in the distance. And a disused car dealership that had grown satellite dishes out of the roof like giant mushrooms.

Steve pulled the car up alongside a large van, which also sported a satellite. “Here we are, Buck. Surprise is inside.”

Bucky sat squinting in the hot sun at the strange surroundings. In through the large window, he could see more machinery and computers that did god only knows what. And on the back wall was an enormous printed star chart. Was this an observatory? The 21st century was weird to him in a lot of ways but this was really pushing the envelope.

Steve, done waiting for Bucky to figure anything out, got out of the car and strode up to the glass door, giving it a firm couple of taps. Bucky slowly opened the door and followed, his boots crunching in the dusty gravel. Behind them, the town was waking up. The garage started welding something, and the diner’s bell jingled as the first customers ventured in.

An unfamiliar woman hollered for them to come inside the dealership-slash-observatory, so Steve pushed the door open and walked in. Where Bucky took a good long look around the place - with notes and photos pinned up and a transparent board with long, scary looking equations written in red - it clearly wasn’t Steve’s first visit. He made a beeline for an office in the back where Thor was waiting for them, with two women. One was pacing and writing in a notebook, chewing on one pen while another was balanced behind her ear. And the other?

Darcy. Not an old lady, but exactly the way she had been. Not a day older and sitting on at a high table, with her hands wrapped around a steaming mug of coffee. She was even wearing that goddamned cherry sweater. Bucky’s jaw dropped.

Steve, the smirking little punk, walked right up to her and placed a kiss on the top of her head. He turned back to face Bucky, with his hands on Darcy’s shoulders. “Surprise.”

Bucky couldn’t manage a single sound.

Was this a dream? Was he still asleep in the car, or back in cryo? It couldn’t be real, that was too good to be true. And yet here his Darcy was, waiting patiently for him to pull himself together. Bucky felt his throat tighten and his eyes well up with tears.

“H-how?” he stammered.

Darcy put her mug down and opened her mouth.

“You have no idea how important this is. We’ve been trying to get a handle on the data this threw up for the last year,” the other lady said. “The fact that she was able to go back at all is groundbreaking and the difference in perceived time? Oh, my god. I-”

“I time traveled, Bucky” came Darcy’s beautiful voice. Just as he remembered. “I spent six months with in nineteen-forty but I was only gone from here, like, six minutes. You will be shocked at the amount of detail I had to go into to get Jane to believe that I was in a polyamorous relationship with Captain America and the Winter Soldier for six minutes.”

Bucky swallowed around the lump in his throat.

“Tracking someone down is a lot harder when they turn out to be seventy years younger that you think they are,” Steve said, when Bucky said nothing. “We just so happen to have some mutual friends, so we got lucky.” He jerked his head towards Thor, who raised his own mug in salute.

“S-so, wait,” Bucky took one step forward, “that whole bit about being on vacation to New York and getting mugged?”

“Total lie, sorry,” Darcy said, getting off her chair. She was just as small as she had been before, like Steve wasn’t anymore.

“But you wouldn’t have believed me then. Can you forgive me?” She held out her arms for a hug and Bucky wasted no time. But instead, he scooped her up into his arms, like a new bride, and pressed a big smacking kiss to her lips. In the background, Thor and Jane cheered. And Darcy let out a tiny squeal and kissed him right back.

My Teammate’s a Vampire

Summary: The team recently found out that you’re a vampire and they don’t quite know how to take in the new information.

A/N: I have such a hard time writing really angsty stuff when it involves the entire team being angsty, so I’ve decided to make it somewhat fluffy. Again, I know that some of my plots don’t align with the way Marvel wrote these characters, but who’s to say I can’t have an imagination? Happy reading!

Pairing: Avengers x Reader

Word Count: 1,451.


The team sat in the conference room, baffled.

“You mean to tell me you’re a vampire?” Clint asked in disbelief. You shrugged and nodded.

“I know this is a lot to take in —”

“Y/N, we’ve known you for a long time and we never knew this about you,” Bucky said, his eyes meeting yours. You sighed.

“I know I should’ve told you guys, but it’s really hard.”

“But we’re you’re teammates,” Wanda pleaded.

“I know that. It’s really hard accepting this part of me. Everyone is afraid of vampires because of what the media created. Don’t you think anyone would’ve wanted to kill me if I said anything? I’ve had my experiences with that,” you said. 

“Okay, that’s valid,” Steve pointed out. The team sat around you at the conference desk, looking at you. You knew they wanted to ask questions.

“Alright, ask me anything you want.”

Everyone bombarded you with questions and you found yourself wincing at the sudden increase in volume.

“One at a time!” you yelled over the commotion.

“Is it true that you need to be bitten to turn into a vampire?” Pietro asked.

“That’s true. When you’re bitten, the vampire biting you needs to actually suck your blood so that their saliva mixes with your blood. Then you have twelve hours to drink blood, otherwise you die,” you explained. Everyone grimaced.

“Do you drink human blood?” Sam asked. You shook your head.

“No. I’ve never tried human blood before.”

“Then how are you alive? Err, I mean, dead? I don’t know.” You chuckled.

“I drank from a deer.”

“Do you have to feed regularly?” Natasha asked.

“Actually, no. I only need to drink blood every two years or so. I can live off of that, I don’t have to eat.”

“But you eat with us all the time?” Tony asked, confused.

“My body performs the same functions as humans, except I don’t gain weight. I’m stuck at whatever height and weight I was when I was bitten,” you said.

“I’m so jealous,” Wanda said, looking you up and down. “Your body is absolutely killer.” You laughed and gave Wanda a side-hug.

“Believe it or not, in my day, I was considered to be skinny and not what was accepted at the time.”

“If vampires sleep during the day, why are you up during the day?” asked Tony. 

“We don’t need sleep, actually. That’s why I’m never tired. But, I can command my body to sleep if I wanted to.” 

“What abilities do you have?” Steve asked.

“Well, I’m able to fly, run pretty quickly — yes, even faster than you, Pietro — I have acute hearing and sense of smell, and I can communicate with other animals.” The team gaped at you, their jaws to the floor.

“No fucking way,” Bucky said. Bruce grinned and grabbed a notepad from his shoulder bag.

“Tell me more. How are you able to communicate?” You laughed and told him to put away the notepad.

“I’m afraid I don’t know that answer myself. I’m still curious.”

“Is it true that you’re immortal?” asked Vision asked.

“I’m not, I just age a lot slower than you guys do.”

“How slow?” You pondered for a moment.

“Let’s put it this way. You guys turn a year older every year. I turn a year older every fifty years.”

“That makes no sense,” Steve said, his eyebrows furrowing.

“It’s kind of hard to explain. I was seventeen when I was turned,” you said.

“How old are you now?”


“Holy shit, this means you were born in the seventeen hundreds,” Bucky said in disbelief.

“Seventeen twelve, to be exact,” you relied. Natasha’s eyes widened.

“No way.”

“Yes way. You better believe it.”

“So you’ve experienced getting used to the new world?” Steve asked.

“Kind of. Like you, I had to learn to adapt to a new world, but I had to do it every time there was a revolution. I had it easier, considering I wasn’t frozen for over seventy years.”

“You went through the French and American Revolutions, and everything,” Bruce said more to himself.

“Sort of. I mean, I was a troublesome person, so I stuck my nose on people’s business, but left when I got bored. I didn’t need anyone knowing what I was,” you said. You looked at Steve. "By the way, Steve, I actually punched Hitler. It was in nineteen forty. He tried to hit on me and take me to his room, but I wasn’t having it,“ you said. He looked at you with his mouth wide open.

"One badass,” Sam whispered. You laughed.

“No way,” Steve said. “What other famous people have you met?”

“Loads! George Washington, Louis XIV, and by the way, his palace is such a nice place to live in. Let’s see, who else? Michael Jackson, John Locke, Marilyn Monroe, President Kennedy, James Dean —”

“You knew James Dean?” Wanda asked in excitement. You chuckled and nodded.

“Oh yeah. He’s got the softest lips.” She squealed while the boys groaned in annoyance.

"I’ve met too many famous people to count. I really liked living in the twenties, though. I was in Chicago and participated in the whole ‘flapper’ phase before I made my way up to Brooklyn.”

“When did you move to Brooklyn?” Bucky asked.

“A little over a year before we joined the war. I actually knew who you were, Sergeant,” you teased, bowing your head.

“Why didn’t you say hello or tell me you knew me when we met?”

“Well, I didn’t find a good time to introduce myself. You were always with the ladies,” you mused. You turned to Steve. “And you. I also knew about you before the whole serum phenomenon. I was the one who accepted you into the program.”


“Really. With Howard’s approval, that is. I liked the fight in you.” Steve smiled and gave you a grin that said 'thank you.’

“I’ve done a lot of things in my lifetime as well as travelled to a lot of places. I’ve got loads of stories from different times and places.”

“Is anyone else still not over the fact that Y/N is so old? You’re older than Bucky and Steve,” Tony said. You slapped Tony’s chest and he winced.

“I don’t hit like an old lady, do I?” Tony put his hand over where you slapped him and pretended to be hurt.

“You cut me deep,” he joked.

“My best friend’s a vampire,” Natasha said. “That’s so cool.”

“And, you guys don’t have to worry about me sucking your blood or anything. The media likes to think vampires do that kind of stuff, but we really don’t. We’re not into the whole 'Suck-The-Blood-Out-Of-Every-Human’ thing,” you reassured. The team smiled at you.

“We’re not worried,” Natasha said. “You’re like family to us. You’ve had our backs since day one. I think you saving our asses on multiple occasions outweighs everything else.”

“Yeah,” Clint said. “You’ve been around my kids before and they love you. We don’t really see you any differently.”

“You’re that much cooler, if anything,” said Wanda.

You grinned at the team. It was so nice knowing you could let your guard down and be the real you with everyone else. No longer did you need to hide your true identity because the people you loved the most accepted you for who you were. 

“Well, I’m tired,” Tony said. “Everyone out, we’ve got an early morning.” 

The team filed out of the conference room and made their way to their bedrooms. You were about to open the door to yours when Steve tapped your shoulder. 

“Is there anything I can help you with?” Steve stood, not knowing what to say. 

“I just wanted to say thank you for believing in me. It was really hard trying to get enlisted with all of my health problems and nobody believed that I could do it,” he said. Your facial features softened and you gave his bicep a squeeze. 

“Hey, you’re welcome. Anyone that has as much ambition as you do deserves to get what they want. I don’t think you remember, but I was the first girl you talked to when you got accepted. You were so shy and you told me no girl had given you the time of day and that if you were to die in the next five minutes, you were happy I was giving you any attention at all.” 

Steve laughed at the memory and closed his eyes, reliving it. 

“I remember that. I couldn’t put a face to the girl after all these years, but it’s really clear now.” You offered a small smile. 

“I’m really happy that you didn’t die, for one, and I’m happy that you’re still true to your ideals. It’s why I picked you in the first place.” Steve smiled back. “If you don’t mind, I’m gonna turn in,” you said. 

“I thought vampires didn’t need any sleep?”

“No, but you do. Go to sleep, Steve.” He saluted you goodnight and left to his quarters, grateful for all you had done for him. 

Tag list: @wildefire

anonymous asked:

Gothic romance?

Well, let’s see.  I guess it all depends on what you mean by Gothic Romance.   A long time ago the term Romance was used to mean anything emotional, dramatic, or exaggerated.  And most Gothic fiction fits under this category but I’ll answer under the assumption that you mean the modern definition, as in Gothic love stories.

Here we go…

Edward Scissorhands.  Probably the saddest but most obvious one to list with beautiful and haunting music by Danny Elfman.   

Crimson Peak.  This one is practically a love letter to Gothic literature of the late nineteenth century and practically personifies Gothic.

Faust.  The silent version by F. W. Murnau.  This version beautifully follows Goethe’s Faust Parts 1 and 2 and ends with the bitter-sweet ascension of Faust and Gretchen to Heaven, Faust’s love saving him from damnation.

Tim Burton’s The Corpse Bride.   Animated with beautiful music by Danny Elfman this film is today strangely under-rated whereas when it first came out people seemed to think it would be the next Nightmare before Christmas. 

The Company of Wolves . This one is an odd film.  Using werewolves as a metaphor for sex, sexuality, and even puberty the film tells several classic werewolf legends all within the mind of a sleeping pubescent girl (having her first period).  In the dream Granny (Angela Lansbury) tells terrible werewolf stories to Rosaleen (Little Red Riding Hood) to warn of the dangers of men but in the end Rosaleen shows sympathy to a werewolf huntsman and it’s implied she becomes one as well.  This is from director Neil Jordan (Interview with the vampire) and can work on it’s own (without understanding of the metaphors) as a good, yet trippy early 1980s werewolf movie.  

The Ghost and Mrs. Muir.   Nineteen forties novel, movie, and 1960s TV series.  This is a sweet story of a self-sufficient young widow (in the Victorian era) who ends up in a very peculiar and loving relationship with the ghost of a cantankerous old sea captain.  It’s more empowering than anything you’ll ever find in Twilight.

She Creature (2001 film.  Not to be confused with the 1950s film of the same name.  It has a very different plot.  Also sometimes titled She-Creature: Mermaid Tales).   This film deals with some carnival people trying to take a captured mermaid back to America with them but the mermaid is more of a predator than they realize and she starts to kill off the men who hold her prisoner, only showing sympathy to the one female on board, whom she seems to have developed feelings toward.

Dracula (1979 film).  I like this one because the Mina character (called Lucy in the film) is actually a very strong and aggressive character. You can even argue that she is the one who seduces Dracula first.  She also speaks her mind when she disagrees with his actions.   And it intrigues and delights him. 

Bram Stoker’s Dracula.   The love story might be purely created for the film but I still like it.  Even if they did take some odd liberties about how Dracula became a vampire.

Dark Prince: The True Story of Dracula.  Surprisingly respectful to history while still implying Dracula becomes the vampire, the dynamic between Vlad and Lydia is sweet.

Love at First Bite.  This one is a romantic comedy but I have a soft spot for it.  It even gives Dracula a happy ending.

The Vampire lovers.  If you want a little bit of Lesbian romance than The vampire lovers might be for you, it’s an adaptation of Carmilla with one of the main character’s names changed but other than that it follows the novel better than some other adaptions and has a great ambiance and atmosphere.

Interview with the vampire. If you can’t tell that Lestat is in love with Louis than you have no eye for subtlety.  Not strictly a romance but you can tell there is love between the main characters.

The Bride.   Not to be confused with The Bride of Frankenstein this movie is from 1985 and is a very modern (though set in the past) exploration on the Bride of Frankenstein idea. It also gives The Creature a happy ending and I’m kind of a sucker for hopeful outcomes.

Beauty and the Beast.  Nearly all versions of Beauty and the Beast (when done well) are Gothic romances.  Though if you want something a little darker than Disney than I would suggest the 1940s version or the surreal 2014 French version (now available on DVD in the US.)  The 2014 French version has beautiful visuals but the chemistry between the leads is a little weak.  It also gives a very intriguing new backstory for The Beast.  

Sleepy Hollow.  The romance between Ichabod and Katrina is simple yet beautiful. (1999 movie.  Not the TV series.)

Warm Bodies.  May people call this the zombie equivalent to Twilight but R has a lot more character depth and development than Edward ever had.  Also it’s the only Zombie apocalypse movie to have a happy ending. And though the metaphors are a bit ham handed I think it’s sweet.  Love and feeling is what makes you alive.

Let the Right One In.  Though the relationship is platonic the protagonist’s bond is deep and sweet.  And if you want a little violence in your romantic movie night wait until you get to the “bullies at the pool” scene.  You’ll get something delightfully terrible.   

Phantom of the Opera (2004 musical / opera version)

Disney’s Hunchback of Notredame.  I say the Disney version because the romantic aspect of the original is purely in the emotional nature of the story.  Any “Love story” aspect was purely one sided but in the Disney version you get to see reciprocated and unappreciated love.  Also, who doesn’t love “Hell Fire”?

Dorian Gray (2009 version).  Though this film deviates from it’s source material it does capture the heart and feel of the original story and also features a sort of quasi-redmption near the end, out of love.

The Canterville Ghost (1996).   The love story in this is a bit thin but it is there between Virginia and the young lord next door.

Gothic only in it’s atmosphere, nearly any version of Les Miserables.

There are a lot more but that’s what I thought of off the top of my head.

Bonus Fantasy suggestions:  Maleficent (though it’s more of a maternal love), Splash, and Date with a Angel. 

For Gothic Romance TV shows:  She-Wolf of London, Dark Shadows (original and 1990s version), and Forever Knight, and Lucifer.

For Gothic Romance novels try Carmilla, The Dracula Tape (retelling of Dracula by Dracula, himself) by Fred Saberhagen, Goethe’s Faust parts 1 and 2 (Closet Drama), Warm Bodies,  Les Miserables by Victor Hugo, Beauty and The Beast (original French novel, not the fairy tale version), and The Ghost and Mrs. Muir by R. A. Dick (Pen name of Josephine Lesley).

TV mini-series:  Jekyll.  A direct sequel to the original story by Steven Moffat and it shows just what happens when Hyde develops feelings toward his alterego’s family.

And the 2004 Hallmark mini-series of Frankenstein starring Luke Goss as The Creature.  It’s very faithful the novel and has good chemistry between Viktor and Elizabeth.  

Plays:  Frank Wildhorn’s Dracula The musical.  Particularly the German production.  Dracula das Musical and the Japanese version where Wao Yoka plays the best Dracula ever done by a woman you are likely to come across. 

The up coming movie The Shape of Water looks very good too.

Cherchez La Femme: Prologue & Part One (A)

A/N: Shit, shit, shit. This is a shitty idea. That said. Here is the prologue and Part A of the first section. Rules for tagging are as follows: You can be tagged in every part as it comes out (the next part will come on Tuesday), tagged in each section as it is completed, or in the final Masterlist. Please let me know. I will not tag unless I am asked. As of now, I am tagging everyone in every section because no one has specified that they want otherwise.

A/N: I have tried to keep all the scenarios in the movies as close to the way they are as possible; some dialogue and some dates have changed, due to how the story works. This has all been planned, I promise, and I tried to never deviate too far. 

Word Count: 2941 (totaled)

WARNINGS: Swearing, distress (character cornered), dizziness mentioned, some fluff. My brain is so scrambled. I’m not even sure if I got it all. This is a ridiculous idea. That said…. here it is. I’ll be off Tumblr for a while. 

PROLOGUE TRACK: Outlander Theme

UN PEU BEAUCOUP PART A TRACK: You’ll Never Know–Vera Lynn

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Dean Winchester X Reader - The 90′s Called

Originally posted by frozen-delight

Imagine Dean’s FBI suit tearing on a case, and trying to find a new one with him.

A/N: This is for @percussiongirl2017 ‘s challenge. My prompt was “The 90′s called. They want their clothes back, and my song was ‘Man in the Mirror’ - Michael Jackson.

Your name: submit What is this?

(When you’re texting)

Italics: Sam
Bold Italics: You

Word Count: 1,165
Warnings: none.

“I’ll meet you two in the car,” Sam announces, throwing Dean his jacket and turning to leave. 

“What are you going to do in the forty minutes it takes Dean to get ready?” You tease, earning a scoff from Dean and a snort from Sam.

“I’ll braid my hair,” He turns around and leaves the motel room, leaving you and Dean on your own. 

“Oh ha-ha, Y/N,” Dean laughs sarcastically. You laugh.
“You know it’’s true- now be a gentleman and don’t look,” You sass, remembering that Sam had broken the knob of the bathroom door earlier that morning. You didn’t want to be locked in a bathroom on a case, after all. Dean rolls his eyes with a small smile and turns around. 

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“I thought about it an’ thought about it, an’ I decided the best thing to do was make a clean break. Tell ‘em I was away back to Dublin or somethin’. Won’t see yez again, God bless, cheers. So one winter’s night in nineteen forty-two I walked up Second Avenue an’ turned onto East Seventh. It was fuckin’ freezin’ that night. It was so cold it’d’ve cut yeh. But I stood outside that bar for five hours. 'Cause I just could not go in.”

    “I can never say goodbye, Jesse.”

Star Spangled Man

Request: Hey doll! I was wondering if I could get a Steve Rogers x reader imagine where the reader was also alive in the 40s but is now dating Steve in 2017. Maybe when talking and cuddling in bed Steve asks the reader to tell him a secret so they can be honest with each other and she reluctantly reveals that she was a dancer in his ’ Star spangled man with a plan ’ show in the 40’s. Loads of fluff, lovin’ and giggles please! Thank you sooo much doll! <3 ~

A/N: Let me be the first do say that this request was SO cute and I’m so happy that I wrote it. I’m jus so giddy inside. Happy reading! 

You remember waking up from the ice like it was just yesterday.

“W-Why is it so cold?” you asked, rubbing your arms. “And why am I wet?” 

“Here, take this blanket,” a strange man said. He looked oddly familiar and you tilted your head, trying to figure out who he was while he handed you blankets. 

“Howard?” you whispered, your teeth chattering from the chill that seemed to consume your entire body. The man laughed. 

“Not quite. I’m Tony, Howard’s son.” 

“Where’s Howard? Can I see him?” Tony’s smile faltered. 

“He’s not with us anymore,” he whispered, avoiding your gaze. You reached your hand and touched Tony’s shoulder, but he flinched and you retracted your hand. 

“Sorry,” you mumbled. He shook it off. 

“It’s not problem. Your fingers are just cold,” he said, ignoring his startle. “Long story short, you’re no longer in the nineteen forties,” he explained. “You’re in two thousand and seventeen.” You raised both of your eyebrows and began to laugh. 

“Oh my. I really don’t believe it,” you said. But you looked around and saw technology you were unfamiliar with. Everything was so white and clean, so futuristic. “Or maybe I am,” you mumbled to yourself. You looked to your left and saw a man in the next room, separated by a glass wall. He met your gaze and gave you a small wave. 

“Oh boy,” you said. 

But that was then and now you had somewhat adjusted to life in the modern world. Wanda offered to teach you everything you needed to know and it took some time before you felt comfortable being around the team. You remembered asking the team if there were any jazz clubs near the building. The place they took you to was a club, alright, but it was most definitely not a jazz club. 

Steve had been there too. It was awkward at first. You weren’t really good with guys to begin with and you felt even more shy to be around someone you knew long ago. You didn’t know that you’d fall madly in love with Steve during your time as a backup dancer. You never really talked to Steve, but you always admired him from afar. You loved the way he was so determined to memorize the dance moves and how he committed himself to the show every time he performed. 

Steve felt like he was on cloud nine whenever you came into the room. He got so nervous around you and practically melted in your hands whenever you set your hand on his shoulder. He was so in love with you and he knew it. Natasha teased him so much that he ended up asking you out right in front of her to get her to shut up. 

Since then, you both have been inseparable and in love. 

The two of you were laying on the bed, way past midnight. The team decided to go out to a bar, but you and Steve were happy staying behind to spend some quality time with each other without the team. The fire roared in front of the both of you and you let your head rest on Steve’s chest, reaching up to press a tender kiss to his jawline. He pulled you closer to him and played with the hem of your shirt. You felt his gaze on you. 

“What are you thinking about?” you asked. Steve smiled. 

“Tell me a secret. A secret that nobody knows,” he said. 

“Why do you want to know my secrets?” you asked playfully. 

“I don’t know. I like being honest with you. Plus, I told you a secret of mine this morning. I think it’s only fair that you tell me one of yours.” You shrugged and shifted your body so that you faced him, your leg draped over his and half of your body pressed against his chest. 

“Promise me you won’t laugh,” you said. 

“I promise I won’t laugh.” You took a deep breath. 

“Okay. Well, back in the forties, I was a backup dancer.” He nods, knowing this already. “But what you don’t know is I was a backup dancer for you.” Steve furrowed his eyebrows. 

“What do you - oh, I get what you mean. Star Spangled Man with a Plan was quite a whirlwind.” 

“I had the biggest crush on you, but you never talked to any of the girls if it wasn’t dance-related. My friend Marcie teased me so much,” you said. 

“I think I’d remember a face as beautiful as yours, doll,” he said. You laughed and remembered the times your friend had teased you. 

“Marcie kept making jokes about how we’d end up married and how we’d have so many kids, and how cute they’d be. She made me promise to make her the godmother. Oh goodness, she kept making jokes about how we’d make love every chance we got.” You cringed at the memory, but was taken out when you heard Steve laugh. You playfully hit his shoulder. “Hey! I told you not to laugh.” 

Steve tried to stop laughing and looked at you, pressing a small kiss to the tip of your nose. “It’s not, baby, I promise. Wow, I can’t believe we knew each other back then. Why didn’t you say anything?” 

“It’s embarrassing.” 

“It’s really not. I think it makes you even more adorable. ” Steve looked at you. “Plus, she wasn’t wrong about the love making part.” He leaned down to press a kiss on your forehead. 

“I think you missed,” you said. 

“Is that so?” he smirked. You didn’t say a word but you nodded, leaning up to press your lips to his. 



Ain’t No Grave by spitandvinegar

The Needle and the Killing Done : The asset only knows one name. He says “Steve.”

Ain’t No Grave (Can Keep My Body Down) : It has died a thousand times before, and always it rises.

You’re the Pants on a Roxy Usher : Best friend, love of my goddamn life ; same thing, really.

Not Easily Conquered by dropdeaddream and WhatAreFears

A Long Winter : Here is the horrible truth of it, cover to cover: for as long as Steve can remember, the entire universe began and ended with James Buchanan Barnes. It spun on the axis of them. But then James Buchanan Barnes fell miles into a frozen ravine, and the universe, in an act of unspeakable cruelty, kept on spinning.

The Thirteen Letters : Womb to tomb, sweetheart.

Not Easily Conquered : They keep bringing each other back to life, one way or another.

4 Minutes Window by counteragent, monicawoe and Speranza

4 Minute Window : I think i have a chance to be alive again.

The Second Time As Farce : “The first time as tragedy, the second time as–”“It was pretty much farce the first time, too,”

Yelp page for Coney Island Design & Construction : Everybody thinks I’m exaggerating, but I’m telling you, these two are real heroes !

Scenes from a Marriage: The Kandinsky : I fell like I’m getting away with something. I always did with you.

Scenes from a Marriage: The Studebaker : me, you, here at the end of the world ?

The Third Time’s The Charm : “Who gives a damn, Buck? They’re wrong, and I’m glad they’re wrong: it means they’re not looking for two of us: they don’t know we’re together.”

Scenes from a Marriage: A Month Of Sundays : because when all was said and done, they’d both been shocked into immortality by what had happened to them, flash frozen into a terrible youth, forever.

The Tradeoff : he was Captain America, and righteous like fire.

Ipseity by SkyisGray

Chyetirye : Bucky loves the grief almost as much as he’s loved Steve himself.

Chasm : Please do not give up on Buc me. You are very important to me. You were on my mind for 80 years. Just be patient.

Changes and Constants : There’s autonomy, there’s trust, then there’s memory.

Infinite Coffee and Protection Detail by owlet

This, You Protect : And there’s that sunrise smile. The one he has waited for.

Team-Building Exercises : The sunrise smile. The sunrise smile.

The Long Road Begins at Home : I haven’t seen that smile since nineteen forty-one.

Truth, Justice, and the Cheating Cheater Way : He was supposed to stay home, he was supposed to be home, to give Bucky something to dream about instead of the sound of explosives and the stench of human guts.

Upgrade: Advanced Happiness Skills : The sunrise smile is even better at actual sunrise.

A Chance To Try Bravery : You’ve always been my favourite person, Steve, don’t care what size you are.


Into That Good Night by Nonymos : Life, thought Steve, is gonna be the death of me.

We Did Not Make Ourselves by M_Leigh : It is like steel, the determination inside of you that tells you you will achieve this, that you will find him. Nothing will stop you. You are two sides of the same coin, you and he: he cannot escape you forever.

20th Century Limited by Speranza : “Where am I? Where is this?” and he was in Brooklyn, he was on a beach, the train was shaking around him. He was in the plane, ice splintering up onto the windshield. He was in a tank, tubes trailing from his face, from his groin. Christ, he was cold. There was still ice on his fingers. He was in the Grand Canyon. He was in Times Square. This couldn’t be Times Square. Where the hell was this? “Tell me! Where am I, who are you, where's—” —Bucky?”

Sparked Up Like A Book Of Matches by Sena : “Window dressing,” Steve says, gazing up at the ceiling of Tony’s lab. It’s rotating gently. Or maybe he’s rotating. Or maybe he’s imagining it. The cement floor is the most comfortable thing he’s ever lain on.
Tony leans across the counter and looks down at him. He says, “Interesting.”
Steve waves his hand and says, “Wanted to make a difference and what was I? Window dressing. Nothing but hot air. So much bullshit.”

This Is A Back Alley by Febricant : It’s always been like this between them, Bucky refusing to let Steve drift out of his orbit.

United States v. Barnes, 617 F. Supp. 2d 143 (D.D.C. 2015) by fallingvoices and radialarch : United States v. Barnes begins today.

To Memory Now I Can’t Recall by Etharei : His body carries its own ghosts.

Your Favorite Ghost by augustbird : He doesn’t know where his thoughts stop and his voice begins.

When The Season Comes Around by theheartischill : The other problem is that Steve loves him, and Bucky isn’t sure he remembers how to love.

Lonely Houses Off The Road by Etharei : Barnes is now glaring at him for some reason. It’s somewhat terrifying but also, oddly, a little reassuring— because that’s emotion right there, which means there’s still somebody behind those eyes. Somebody who seems to think Sam is being a bit slow on the uptake. “Time parameters exceeded. Mission failed.”
“Wait.” Sam narrows his eyes. “Is this some kind of… report? Debriefing?”
Mission report,” confirms Barnes, looking pleased. Well, looking slightly less murderous than before.

The Clock Just Makes The Colours Turn To Grey by endoftheline7 : Bucky Barnes knows far too much of tragedy.

Rehabilitated by sterlingsuspenders : Stark’s press release calls him “rehabilitated,” but Bucky doesn’t feel rehabilitated at all. He feels like a feral animal on a short leash. He feels like gnawing his own leg off.


From the year nineteen forty I look out on everything as if from a high tower as if bidding farewell to that from which I long ago parted. As if crossing myself and descending beneath dark arches.

                                                                  Deathless by Catherynne M. Valente

six thousand ninety forty

red wagon loss & yella bile grief – that’s coming home,
four stones in an X shape on the stupid grass.
they say the body mourns like a sunburn,
tender & hot & neverending, &
i used to make it hurt & now it does it all itself.
i just can’t say your name.

one-mississippi-two. arizona, arizona.
didn’t mind the gap between existing & not and now,
airplane riders have to teach me to be excited about two feet on the ground.
the loss takes on a january ache all the way down in july.

baby – baby i wonder what you look like now.
six feet and all. sometimes the right thing hurts worse
than the nasty thing and i – i wonder what you’d think of me,
newly nineteen, prodigal daughter
done her forty days and forty nights in the desert.

i think you’d love me still.  


1748! = 685 557 129 020 136 728 739 109 554 073 677 018 906 446 731 497 173 347 064 598 482 154 513 406 345 300 621 818 463 659 060 241 335 350 332 536 696 363 295 401 248 668 817 806 898 245 259 790 514 105 601 866 185 689 289 237 319 142 968 316 077 746 606 414 871 225 754 097 980 350 402 278 474 236 679 957 711 129 729 121 494 248 343 250 559 477 384 498 826 553 495 794 147 415 652 651 551 183 124 225 759 915 726 195 397 531 093 151 833 403 112 806 836 881 511 479 434 979 696 662 030 622 670 493 148 766 767 098 705 692 354 070 680 068 431 477 375 932 554 589 515 277 383 061 128 223 916 822 865 865 682 161 941 558 640 037 956 915 681 313 217 701 390 228 000 185 381 312 788 888 437 220 125 842 483 085 611 604 857 401 609 576 268 928 122 944 776 047 812 977 087 366 430 783 288 150 400 785 970 836 065 654 998 751 070 857 143 847 712 624 209 570 110 190 437 975 650 481 833 757 256 133 268 494 267 932 435 180 812 144 803 281 374 726 048 695 955 281 887 473 055 638 791 722 515 207 450 699 9

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I have known Minsky for more than thirty years. When I first met him, in the late nineteen-forties, at Harvard, it was not entirely clear what his major academic field was—or, perhaps, what it wasn’t. He was taking courses in musical composition with the composer Irving Fine. Although he was an undergraduate, he had his own laboratories—one in the psychology department and one in the biology department—and he was writing what turned out to be a brilliant and original senior mathematics thesis on a problem in topology. For all his eclecticism, however, his basic interest seemed to be in the workings of the human mind.

He had one of the clearest minds I have ever encountered, and he was capable of elucidating the most complicated ideas in simple language—something that is possible only if one has a total mastery of the ideas.
—  Jeremy Bernstein on Marvin Minsky for The New Yorker, 1981.


plus, he’d do it in the most delightful ways. 

he’d just stand in his living room and wait for Sam to get back. and when Sam would get back (no doubt after being sent out on a run for ice cream and cheese whiz and the like) Max would shmooze all over him. 

“I’m not bad! I’m just drawn that way!”

“Max, the ice cream is melting.”

“You had plenty money nineteen forty-two…” [strutting around]

“Max, I really gotta get this into the freezer…” 

“Why don’t you do right” [sliding down the wall with an uncomfortable squeaking noise] “like some other men doooooooOOooo…”

“Max. Please. The ice cream.”

“You said you’d roleplay with me! I thought my natural effervescence would percolate your interest! After all” [wiggling his tail] “You don’t know how hard it is for a rabbit like me, looking the way I do…” 

“Yeah, but it’s rocky road…”


And that’s the story of how the ice cream melted, resembling the poor Geek’s brain when she walked in on her foster parents reenacting some of the saucier scenes from Max’s favorite movie. 

Max wears the dress all week. 

Sam has no complaints. 


chapter eleven; hot coals

“You’re saying she-” he pointed a finger at Sara. “-a twenty year old girl, got picked up by the government and turned into a female Captain America?” His voice sounded like a shriek.

“I’m twenty-three,” Sara corrected, just above monotone.

Natasha put down her mug, “Just put him out of his misery, Sara.”

“Sergeant Sara Marie Riley, born nineteen-twenty, enlisted nineteen thirty-eight for the Super Soldier Program by recommendation of Howard Stark,” Sara recited, tiredly. “First female super soldier and member of the Howling Commandoes. Pronounced missing in action in nineteen forty-five after the death of Sergeant James Barnes. Recovered two-thousand twelve.”

Sam stared at her a moment. Then, a bit sarcastically, he said, “Oh, is that all?”

“That’s the part of my S.H.I.E.L.D. file that isn’t redacted so…yeah,” she replied, with a small nod. She continued to sip her coffee, and Sam shook his head with a sigh.


it’s not just me (but also you)

“Why are you helping me?” Bucky asks after Stark has packed away schematics and notes on the BARF system marked up in neon-colors for ‘easy reading,’ Stark had said like they didn’t contain the phrase non-sequential randomized neural blockers to circumvent previous interference right there in hot pink, after he’s placed Bucky’s written consent to undergo therapy with a professional in a fucking metal case like it’s precious, after Stark is halfway to the door, ready to leave. 

“I killed your parents,” he says, and he’s man enough to admit it’s half to see if Stark flinches. He doesn’t. Bucky’s not impressed, except for doesn’t that phrase go ‘the truth hurts.’ God knows it’s never been particularly kind to him. 

Maybe Stark knows it’s not true. Maybe it doesn’t hurt.

Maybe it can’t compare to lying about it.

“You should hate me,” he goes on, and Stark’s entire face slides into the same kind of rictus Bucky used to see in the trenches. 

Spare me. What about you is there to hate?” Stark asks, not friendly, not anything, not even deigning to turn. “You were brainwashed by HYDRA for seventy years in between following around Cap like a little lost puppy. What have you ever done, Barnes?”

Bucky flinches. That means he loses, he supposes. The corner of Stark’s mouth goes down. Maybe they’ve both lost. 

It’s one thing to know someone hates you. It’s another to know they don’t respect you. Bucky’s been reforged in the fires of hatred a hundred times but respect is something he no longer remembers, even with all his life restored to him. He flinches. He keeps flinching. Yeah. The lies always hurt more.

“I’m here now, aren’t I?” Bucky asks, and he doesn’t sound plaintive at all. He points to the documents that Tony brought to him in this middle ground out in the middle of nowhere T’Challa beckoned them both to, that the man has spent the last four hours going over with him in painstaking detail. “Ready to do whatever it takes.” 

“Where’d you learn that kind of talk,” Stark says dully, and Bucky wants to scream, has been screaming I’m not Steve! for anyone to hear if only they’d bother to listen to him-

But he keeps his mouth shut. The Soldier is forbidden to scream outside of the room with the chair. In there, it can’t be helped, involuntary, autonomic, his whole life, Bucky just can’t be helped.

(Not true. Nineteen forty something and he’s strapped to a table with fire running in his veins and then there’s Steve, but bigger, picking him up. There’s Steve, covering his back with a shield, there’s Steve on a road with the wrongright name on his lips, there’s Steve in a dingy apartment that’s about to explode.)

(There’s Sam, and the arrows, the red light and the shrinking man. There’s T’Challa with his icy rest.)

(Here’s Stark, with his papers full of carefully monitored freedom that might be more than Bucky deserves.)

“I’m here now,” Bucky says, makes it strong. “And I know why. But why are you here?”

Stark almost doesn’t respond; he can tell by the sudden change in the set of his shoulders that the other man has every intention of walking out of here. But he stops and turns all the way around and Stark has not been shy about looking Bucky in the eye this entire time, almost has seemed to make a competition with himself out of it, but now his eyes remain on the floor.

“If there is one thing I know about Rogers,” he says slowly, not like he’s thinking but like his words are unbearably heavy. “It’s that he - loses things. Doesn’t get to keep them. His mother, Peggy, that tidy little future he planned once upon a time? And he…doesn’t deserve that.”

And Bucky all the sudden understands why this man snapped so bright and loud in Siberia when he found out the truth. This man that Steve had dared to talk with about the dreams he once had, even in passing. This man that maybe had returned the same confidences.

“He could’ve chosen to - to keep the Avengers.” To keep me, Bucky hears him not say. “But he didn’t. He made it a choice, and he chose you. So he gets you, if you decide. That’s the deal I made.”

“With who?” Bucky whispers.

“Myself,” Stark says to the ground. 

“Why can’t he have both?” Bucky asks, because 70 years cannot erase an instinct that has been ingrained into him. 

But Stark is a businessman, who has been making deals since he could talk and knows how to make them airtight. Stark has bargained with himself and left no loopholes. A shark, they call those kind of people, and Stark gives him a shark’s smile now. 

He made it a choice. This is not a negotiation.

Bucky doesn’t like it, thinks instead of the look on Stark’s face when he figured out that Steve knew, and his understanding of Stark, of Steve, crystallizes into a sharp point that stings. It is one thing to know someone hates you. It’s another to know they don’t respect you.

“So you’re doing this for him,” Bucky says after the longest pause. “Who’s doing this for me?”

The smile fades and Stark lifts his eyes to Bucky’s, no daring or bravery this time, just Stark, tilting his head considerately. “I guess…you are, Blitzkrieg.”

“Me,” he echoes faintly. Bucky has lived a life of service. To parents and sisters and sickly best friends. To the United States’ Army and the Hydra’s head. To Captain America. To his victims. He’s not sure he remembers how to fight for his own cause.

And he thinks of HYDRA’s notes on Stark, on Afghanistan and the secrets of Stark Mansion long before, how the first thing Stark ever learned to fight for was himself, because no one else was coming.  

“You,” Stark says, without the sneer Bucky would have expected. Bucky glances up at him and for just a instant the curve of Stark’s mouth can almost be called kind before it sharpens up. “Novel concept for you, huh?”

Bucky actually snorts, and something between them breaks, and the line of Stark’s shoulders that has been faintly trembling this entire time sags. “I’m sick of failing. You’d think, as a scientist…but the novelty’s worn off,” the other man offers up on a silver platter, ready for evisceration and like he’s done this a million times and learned to survive on the scraps he gets back. Bucky declines. He knows the feeling. “And as much as I hate to admit it, I’ll fail in this without you committed, one hundred percent. So are you in or out? Do you want to do this, Barnes?”

“You’ve already got my name on the dotted line,” Bucky says, gesturing at the metal case.

“Have you never heard of the spirit of the law,” Stark returns.

“Have I got a choice?”

“Always,” Stark snarls, vicious and still sounding like a promise. Wrong, they’ve gotten this all wrong, they’re such idiots-

You could have kept him, too, Bucky thinks. Stark could have kept them all but he bent in all the wrong ways around the unyielding wall Steve put up and then it was too late. Now they all have nothing and Stark has made himself a bargain to not have anything so he can’t lose it, so long as it won’t hurt. He’s more like Steve than he will probably ever know.

But the difference is that Stark will compromise. Stark will hurt - maybe Steve will hurt him again. Maybe Bucky will let him, because then this bargain can end, because maybe Steve will finally figure it out, let it hurt and heal you goddamn punk, maybe they can have it all, maybe Bucky can finally be somebody again (for the first time).

He just needs the chance to have it.

“For me. I want it, for me,” Bucky says, and underneath vows you can keep me too. The world runs on second chances, after all. “I’m in.”