#soviet ghost story

[withoutawar]

@soviet-ghost-story : 🌿

The house has taken shape but there is still evidence of the work in progress that it is that it doesn't make a lot of sense to put up any decorations. Steve isn't sure if Bucky wants to, or if Rebecca had left behind any Hanukkah pieces to put up, whether Bucky even wanted to uphold the tradition. Still, the festive season is unavoidable, the commercialisation of it hitting Steve in the face whenever he went outside. He'd received complementary candy canes and sprigs of mistletoe that surprisingly smell real on his groceries run, and he takes the latter out as he's putting the items away. ' Hey, Buck, ' he says, turning around and grinning. He waves the little plant by the end of its branch. ' You gonna leave a guy hanging, or what ? '

[entrepy]

a belated bday present for @soviet-ghost-story <3

It doesn’t go unnoticed by Steve that Bucky seems to melt a little under his touches. The context of those touches were often sensual and what usually follows after might have something to do with the way Bucky’s body unwinds and he lays relaxed and boneless beside Steve . . . but Steve wants to offer him the same thing on a less ceremonious level. 

It’s not easy keeping the classes a secret from Bucky. They start in January, and the easiest way is to trade in his afternoon art classes for remedial massage ones. He doesn’t stop his drawing at home so there’s no reason for Bucky to suspect anything — so Steve doesn’t say anything about it either until the evening of March 10th. 

Bucky has been appropriately wished, loved, and dined ( in that order, ) and a few of their friends had come into town to see the progress of the brownstone. After they leave, Steve shoos Bucky away from the clean up of beer bottles and pizza boxes and a plate containing only cake crumbs and 3 spent birthday candles because that’s all Steve dared to stick into it without ruining the decorative icing the local baker had done up for him. One for each digit, he’d reasoned. ‘ Go upstairs, ’ he says, kissing Bucky on the cheek. ‘ I haven’t given you your present yet. I’ll be there in a sec. ’

After clearing up downstairs, he goes up to join Bucky. He’s got a couple of towels, and some scented oils with him, letting himself into the bedroom carefully, only a little nervous. He smiles, a little sheepish, aware that Bucky was well within his rights to make fun of him for this birthday present. ‘ I know you get stiff sometimes, and you haven’t taken up any of the massage services they offer at HQ. ’ He takes a breath, holding up the oils. ‘ I was hoping you’d let me ? I’m, uh, qualified — as of last Thursday. I’ve got a certificate and everything.’ Bucky would be his first client. Well. First, and only.

[clouds-of-wings]

I'm feeling very hung-over from re-reading Master & Margarita, correctly called an "intoxicating" book on the back cover of my copy. I want to read something similar next, but I'm not aware of anything else like it, so I picked up another Soviet era novel from the free outdoor library 1km away from my apartment, but... Solzenitsyn's Cancer Ward does actually hit a little differently, believe it or not.

[thespectralvision]

My dear friend @soviet-ghost-story​ started crocheting last fall and for Christmas she made me Wanda and White Vision! I love them, they are so cute and have little magnets so they can hold hands. 

She is also taking orders for custom dolls, and while she hasn’t set up social media specifically for them yet you can DM her if interested!

[fragmcntdstars]

@soviet-ghost-story cont'd from here

The simple fact that it was an inside job made something inside Bond twist uncomfortably. Was it something that shocked him? No, no it wasn't. It may make their work a little harder, but it isn't as shocking as he would want at first. Its something he notes, one piece of the report that he knows he needs to send M sometime shortly. Bond isn't sure how he'll communicate the report, but he's going to try to not have to use something like a fax machine. He's not sure if they need to go that far, to go any further than the facility, but he's almost ready if that becomes a reality.

Bond's eyebrow raises at the request. No, it didn't sound like a request. It more resembled a statement, but he wasn't sure if he was in a position to make any offers like that. "I cannot say for certain, but I feel we'll be able to offer you something for your cooperation."

He drags a hand down his face as he looks again at the documents in front of him. It wasn't quite something that he expected, but his mind keeps going back to the situation at the Archangelsk facility. He wanders back to the moment when he lost Alec and something twists inside him again. He k n e w loss was something that came with the job, and he'd experienced loss too often for it to be something that surprised him.

Maybe he just misses the companionship. "Do you know enough to determine if this was the start of a series of attacks, or was Severnaya the only target?"

[skyfallscionarc]

@soviet-ghost-story

Its bitterly cold as he steps off the airplane onto the tarmac, almost losing his footing as he makes contact with ice hidden under snow. The still-healing incisions at his chest pull and his stomach turns, making him almost regret his decision. It was the first thing M had asked him. It was his first real mission after getting his double-oh status, but fuck if he wasn't regretting it. He adjusts his hold on his bag and starts walking away from the plane, gaze scanning the area in an attempt to find his contact.

He wants to fight the feeling that someone is watching him, but he feels a set of eyes bore into him as he catches the sight of his contact bundled against the Russian winter weather.

[wintershieldedheart]

☆ bucky & margot ☆

@soviet-ghost-story​​

dev tea room - day seven 🕯️ :: Tucked away during a winter retreat when the power flickers, & then ultimately goes out 

☆          the power had gone out throughout the entire city block and Margot was almost positive it had something to do with one of Stark’s many late night lab adventures. As soon as it’d happened Margot had jumped, not expecting her lamp to go out. Closing her book, Margot swallowed, using her phone as a flashlight long enough to leave her room and head out to the living room. Margot couldn’t stand being a small and dark place alone; it always felt too constricting and suffocating. 

already, she could feel her chest tightening, and she forced herself to ignore it. Margot refused to panic when she knew logically that she was home safe and sound, even if the lights were out and the power was down as well. Margot wrapped a blanket around her shoulders as she headed down the hallway, her fists balled up tightly around the soft material. 

‘ Dad? Ada? ‘ she called out, unsure who, if anyone was still home, but not wanting to be caught off guard. ‘ do we have any candles? ‘ she mumbled. 

[consistentscreaming]

I'm relistening to The Magnus Archives, and I made a list of Actual Canonical Details we as a fandom forget about

- sasha gets coffee from a specific coffee shop every morning

- Jon has an excellent sense of direction

- canonically in artifact storage there is: a wardrobe light cannot penetrate, a carved rock eye that interferes with the video cameras and therefore is kept in a black velvet bag, and a scalpel ride with disease no matter what they use to sterilize it, kept in a hermetically sealed plastic box

- during halloween week, they have to call in the archives as backup due to the influx of statements. jon canonically gets a good nights sleep after disproving these statements.

- Jon sincerely believes he is far too unlucky for statements to just be a hallucination

- Not-sasha asked not to be recorded multiple times

- when told he benifited from gertrude's death, jons only response was "...I didn't?"

- [daisy became police in ~2002, almost 15 years before the story starts...meaning she is canonically late thirties/early 40s

- even when compared with the paranormal, daisy considers car accidents worse

- mary keay made an eye pun "i know the institute and i haven't always seen eye to eye, as it were"

- jon noticed when ghost hunt uk stopped updating

- sasha is taller than not-sasha

- annabelle dresses like a vintage clothing store exploded on her, has bleach blonde hair and dark skin

- annabelle looked "like the type of person that talked to cleaners as if they were actual people"

- annabelle looms over the cleaner by almost a full foot, meaning she Tall

- "the moment i die will feel just the same as this one" is not just a georgie thing, it's an End thing in general, as proved in ep 70

- not-sasha tends to stay late

- martin worked at the institute in 2009

- micheal has curly sandy blonde hair

-micheal is tall

- melanie and jon are on the same wavelength, and when working together they both came to the same conclusions with the same evidence

- elias does not think daisy is smart

- georgie is observant, and pays attention to peoples behavior

- melanie thought jon killing someone with a pipe was "wildly out of character" for him

- georgie and jon have a mutual friend named Jess who thinks Hungarian food is "too Soviet"

- jon borrowed georgie's coat when he went to meet jude perry

- jon tells jude to kill him as an ultimatum every five minutes

- elias tells tim that when presented with horrors, he finds comfort in beaurocrocy

- jared hopworth is handsome with cheekbones and a jawline to die for

- georgie was canonically willing to cover for jon to the police with no context after an unpleasant breakup and after no contact for almost 5 years

- georgie grew up poor in liverpool, and had a scouse accent until she went to oxford

- basira is a huge nerd and will talk about what she's reading to anyone who will listen

- nikola makes an allusion to not having a face

- martin and melanie got along fantastically

- georgie told jon that he needs anchors

- "if something happened to you, or-or god forbid, The Admiral, I-"

- "Don't be a Stranger." georgie thinks she's funny

- michael had a childhood friend who was taken by something like michael (schizophrenic) and that's what drove him to the magnus institut-he never you over what he saw or didn't see

- Hannah is a black woman who works in the library, had a "Thing With The Milk In The Breakroom" in april 2016. Went on maternal leave to have a baby in June of 2017.

- elias enjoys scheduling

- martin zones out when he has to read a statement, and often takes little notice of his surroundings when doing so/about to do so

- martin was looking for a book called "marvelous spiritualism and the circus in tge 19th century" and a guy named tom said tim had it checked out

- danny and tim didn't talk much, but were still close

- Abigail Ellison-who tim calls abby- is a mutual friend of tim and danny's from "back home"

- tim shipped danny and abby

- out of the two of them, danny was more assertive and tim "had never been able to stand in the way of his confidence"

- tim has a big armchair, a printer, and a couch

- melanie has made everyone in the archives cry

- [basira loved wtg until it "took a weird turn in season 3" when they introduced something she thought was odd

- melanie, basira, and martin used to go out for drinks, and martin and basira were gossip buddies

- Melanie's dad had dementia relatively young, but he always remembered her. He called her "Little Moth", and her mothers life insurance helped pay for him to be put into Ivy Meadows Care Home-where he was killed by the Corruption at the hands of John Amherst before Julia and Trevor burnt it down.

- julia is in her early thirties and wears nondescript hard wearing denim

- jon thought that reading statements could be a classical addiction, but decided that even if it was he had no time to, as he put it, "experiment"

- Peter was surprised that elias killed people kimself-implying elias has people to do murders for him. what other murders did he commission

- martin and basira both noticed something wrong with melanie after the Elias Incidint when her work started to deteriorate-martin said she'd always been "quite conscientious"

- right after being told by basira that standing by with a cup of tea wasnt enough, when melanie entered the room Martin immediately offered her a cup of tea.

- Martin knocked over a stack of papers and defended himself by saying that they shouldn't have been there. the absolute madlad

- after micheal stabbed jon, jon told martin he stabbed himself with a bread knife; and martin then proceeded to A) believe him and B) not trust him with anything sharp after that

- Gerry didn't care abt what happened in the unknowing bc he's a book. jon asked if he was serious. Gerry responded that he was, in fact, dead serious.

- gerry teases jon by saying he doesn't know anything before rescinding that statement avd giving the vaguest hint possible. he's such a dickhead i love him

- gerard didn't trust gertrude-he wanted to, but she reminded him of his mother

- gerard called trevor and julia "the van helsings"

- gerry was jealous of lietner bc his mom paid so much attention to them

- mary haunted gerard for 5 years before gertrude destroyed her, and gerry cried with relief when gertrude gave him back the destroyed book

- before the unknowing, daisy was running around killing mannequins and other Strangers

- tim didn't think they would be able to stope the unknowing

- jon would rather have tim where he could see him-which is why he let tim come (guilt guilt guilt guilt GUILT GUILT GUIL GU

- basiras dad couldn't stand people who passively whined about their problems. he always said "If you don't like something, you accept it and you adapt, or you fight, and you change it. Whining doesn't help."

- Melanie was depressed before the unknowing

- jon rambles about his latest insights and melanie wants to punch him.

- martin: "it felt good, weaving my own little web." "Also, i get to burn some stuff, so that's cool"

- basira was the one to suggest that they not tell Melanie they were doing surgery

-Daisy made jon listen to the Archers. "I hate it. but it feels... good, to hate something that can't hurt me"

[withoutawar]

@soviet-ghost-story from the starter call.

‘ Let’s get out of here, Buck. Because make no mistake, even with a bad shoulder, I’m still strong enough to drag you the hell back home. ’ 

[entrepy]

🕸️ @soviet-ghost-story continued from .

The smell coming from her apartment gives him away. Her apartment had not smelt that good when she left it, and an argument could be made for it ever smelling that good. She lives on takeout and while she dabbles in a manner of cuisines, aromas out of Tupperware were rarely as fragrant as straight from the stove. The door is still closed and locked. If she was feeling more overly cautious, she might have rounded the building and let herself in from the back, but she’s got just enough rush left in her blood from the mission that she’d rather face whatever was waiting for her inside, head-on. Climbing up the fire escape would be a waste of the energy if it did come down to a fight. 

She huffs when she sees that it’s Barnes. She drops her bags, and slips out of the coat she’d put on over her suit with contained wincing, though her quick job bandaging up her shoulder meant range of motion was limited and she doesn’t get her arm out of the sleeve as smoothly as she’d have liked. ‘ You can walk through the front door of Steve’s apartment, ’ she points out. ‘ It’s not that weird. ’ 

She’s kept her distance with Barnes. After Wakanda, and Thanos, which  had happened in quick succession for him but not for her. In many ways, she looks at him and sees her own failure.

‘ Make you leave while you’re in the middle of making me dinner ? ’ she says airily, stepping out of her boots, leaving them by the door next to her bag and reaching behind her to tug at her zipper, releasing some of the restriction of her suit as she brings it from her neckline to just half way down her back. ‘ Finish what you started, Bucky, ’ she smiles, the equivalent of please stay. The name comes easily enough off her tongue, though it’s not as comfortable as Soldier. That is how she had known him, had befriended him even — or the closest thing to it when she didn’t have anything else to compare to. But the way she had known him was a different version of him — one that he wasn’t anymore. Was she allowed to feel nostalgic over someone who hadn’t been himself ? She doesn’t wish that he still remained the man she had known — far from it. She wishes he had never gone through it at all. But memories of her training with him, and missions with him, are some of the better ones from that time. And there wasn’t a whole lot where that came from. She holds onto those memories. She doesn’t have to hold onto him. She’s happy to accept this version of him — standing in her kitchen with two saucepans on the go and a wooden spoon in hand. The man who calls himself Bucky. 

‘ What are you making ? ’ she asks, passing a cursory glance over the chopping board scattered with stems of ingredients, before moving over to stove to breathe the aroma in deeply.

[miabucky]

i want so much minutiae about bucky as the winter soldier… i want all of those classified files to be real so i can read them. i wanna know every single thing they documented… how long it took to break him and how long to put him together, how they trained him, how they punished him, what they experimented on him, how they attached the arm, how sensitive it was, what they fed him, how they kept him clean, how much he was allowed to speak, how many missions did he actually have, how much would he remember between missions, how many languages he knew and how he learned them, how much was he even aware of while he was doing it, did he even know he was human or did he think he was something else, how the soviets treated him compared to the americans, how many handlers he had, which one was his favourite, did he have favourites. did he like things and just know not to mention it or was he unable to even access whether he liked or didn’t like something.

i want fake journalism about this. i want medical journals about prosthetics and philosophical debates about agency and history books needing to be revised. whistleblowers exposing decades-old corruption in europe and investigative documentaries exposing the truth about the winter soldier and horror thrillers depicting a young soldier being captured and brainwashed. warring op-eds calling him a monster and a traitor vs those calling him a hero and a tragedy, and bucky thinking he’s probably all of the above. strange stories told by retired military officials from china and civilians from cuba, about a blue-eyed man who spoke their languages perfectly, who didn’t know how to smile but who gave scraps of food to stray dogs. stories their families had chalked up to trauma or old age or exaggeration, that when all pieced together create a very different picture of the man the media was calling a terrorist.

like bucky deserves privacy but the world would not give it to him. the winter soldier being a headline and an academic issue and a medical wonder and a folk tale and a ghost story and then maybe, eventually, a person.

[copperpipes]

I always see people give vlad a Count Dracula kinda design and its cool and all but one time I sat and thought hey, Vlad, doesnt sound like an american name. And isn't Vlad short for Vladimir? Long story short he's Russian now. (In my au! Don't come at me people,,,)

I thought it fit his personality well enough, greedy, cunning, with high education that he is not using enough, and always looking for ways to work as little as possible.

How he got to America is fairly simple, his parents born in the soviet union didn't agree with the communist party so they fled to America where Vlad was born, that’s all.

In his design i have only taken a little inspiration from slavic royal attire, the rest is from how ectoplasm naturally settles combined with Vlad's preferences in how he looks. (Yes he has black teeth, yes his mouth is glowing from the inside.)

How Vlad died is much more interesting tho, radiation poisoning.

*description of a long and painful death, read at your own volition, skip the paragraph if you rather not*

!

It started shortly after the portal exploded on his face, with skin ulcers (his 'ecto acne' ,  Is one major symptom of radiation poisoning), continued with organ failure, and ended with a series of seizures with the last one on his bathroom floor while bleeding from every hole in his body. The whole metamorphosis lasted about a year.

!

What happened is that he didn't die quickly like Danny had, he didn't shift to a ghost form right away because he didn't have one yet. He hasn't died yet. Without the huge amount of ectoplasm Danny had the suit that kept him together Vlad's ghost-half formed gradually and so slowly that he couldn’t tap into it while in the 3rd dimension for another year after he died and came back.

His death has formed a core, the electric shock from its awakening is what revived him. The poisoning stopped, he already died, the core kept him alive until the body recovered enough to function on its own.

Damn

That's a lot of angst 

Uh, um, he also less cares about Maddie herself and more about taking everything from Jack which is who he blames for his death.

So yeah, poor guy :'o his hate for Jack is now very justified.

[bromcommie]

I need someone to write a fic or draw fanart based on that one anthony mackie hot ones interview story where he talks about how he once (while on set!) towed a giant primordial-like fish monster out of the swamps of louisiana with a truck while the PA was losing her shit next to him. but it’s sam and bucky

it could be so good too. like sure bucky’s seen his fair share of weird shit in his several lifetimes but he’s a city boy through and through at the same time and I’m pretty sure for all their battle readiness training the soviets and/or hydra didn’t prepare him for the fucking. alligator gar. try and tell me he wouldn’t bitch and moan and freak the fuck out over all kinds of critters that are native to louisiana I dare you. meanwhile sam's just laughing his ass off like 'oooh I'm from the mean streets of BROOKLYN oooh they call me a GHOST. stop screaming you baby it's FINE. look the teeth on this one ain't even all that bad'

[fiveraccoonsinatrenchcoat]

Quiet My Fears (With The Touch Of Your Hand)

Steve Harrington x f!reader

Description: It was Steve's fault you got hurt last time, and it's Steve's fault again this time, too.

Warnings: pregnant!reader, mentions of being sick, blood, mentions of s3 events, lots and lots of crying

Word Count: 4409

Notes: Hello everyone I kinda poured my heart and soul into this pls enjoy

My Masterlist! - Series Masterlist!

Next Chapter!

July 5th, 1985 - 4:05 am

Steve had already decided what he was going to tell his parents about the state of his face. He was at a party, he’d say, and got into a fight with some drunk asshole who was hitting on you a little too hard. He tried to tell him to fuck off, but the guy got mad and threw the first punch. Steve won, of course.

A semi-believable story that involved zero Soviet torture doctors. 

You’d made it out of the night without any black eyes or broken noses, but there was a sizable gash peeking out from under your hairline. The blood that had dripped from your temple down to your neck had been wiped away by one of the EMT’s, so the cut was really only visible if you already knew it was there. It wasn’t bad enough to warrant stitches, thankfully, but that did very little to quell Steve’s incessant worry. He didn’t like the way your whole body was trembling. Or the way your tights were ripped. 

It took hours for the two of you to be able to go home, made longer by the mountains of contracts and NDA’s you were forced to sign. Steve had already gotten the super secret security rundown twice before. “You’ll probably end up with a good chunk of hush money, at least,” he had joked with you. “All of us did.”

You trailed behind Steve like a lost puppy as he unlocked his front door. He was just happy that you were alive at all.

You, for whatever reason, hadn’t made it into the same interrogation room as Robin and Steve. You weren’t there when Dustin and Erica arrived to get them, and you were nowhere to be seen during the big fight. Steve hadn’t even realized that you weren’t with them until whatever he’d been injected with was out of his system, but he was plunged into an ice cold panic the moment that he did. He begged Hopper to let him go back and look for you, though the idea got shot down immediately (‘Because clearly, you did so great down there the first time!’). Funnily enough, it was actually Murray, of all people, who found you first. He said you were about two seconds away from breaking his nose, if not for the fact that you were chained to the steel bench built into the wall. 

The house was empty. Steve’s parents were spending the holiday weekend with his aunt and uncle two states away; thankfully, Steve hadn’t been dragged along this time. He always thought his dad’s brother was a creep anyway. Your parents were across the street, most likely sleeping soundly at the thought that their daughter was just out at a house party like a regular 18 year old. Of course, nothing about any of this was regular.

Steve’s usual post-saving-of-world routine was to down two doses of ibuprofen, take the hottest shower known to man, and sleep for a day, and there was definitely a part of him that wanted to do just that, but you were still hovering behind him like a ghost. Steve clicked on the lamp on the table next to the sofa as the two of you entered the living room.

“Sit, okay?” he told you. “I’ll find you some pajamas or something.”

You nodded to him, sullen and shaky, and lowered yourself into the pristine couch. It was cream colored and satiny, like it was designed to be easy to stain, and Steve had never actually been allowed to sit on it when he was little. 

His whole body ached, but he trudged up the stairs anyway. He ducked into his own room to quickly strip off his decidedly disgusting uniform and put on a too-big sweatshirt and a pair of sweatpants before picking out something for you. Steve came back down to find you wincing as you slowly pulled off your shoes. 

“Jesus,” Steve remarked at the state of the white socks that slouched around your ankles over your tights. The backs were drenched in angry red, spread all the way around the heel and down the sides, and the nylon of your tights had big holes worn through that exposed just how ripped up the skin of your heels had become.

“I decided to put on new shoes this morning,” you sighed. “Hadn’t broken them in yet.”

While humiliating, he and Robin’s Scoops uniforms were actually pretty comfortable. The sneakers Steve had worn to work that day had held up wonderfully to all the walking (and running for his life) that he’d had to do all night, but you worked at one of the fancy department stores. You couldn’t wear sneakers or comfortable shorts, you had to wear smart, grown up clothes. You’d been running around all night in a pair of brand new, shiny black mary-janes and a skirt. It made Steve feel just a little bit sick to his stomach to think about. 

“Fuck,” Steve huffed out. “Alright, hold on. There’s a first aid kit in the bathroom.”

Steve bandaged up your ankles, carefully cleaning the wounds with the softest cloth he could find and cursing himself when you made a noise at the pain. 

God, this was all his fault.

“You can take the room next to mine, if you want,” Steve said after you’d changed. “My parents won’t be home until Monday, so we won’t have to worry about them at all.”

“Okay,” you said, voice mouseish. You’d been to Steve’s house a million times before; you grew up across the street, the only other person his age in a neighborhood full of elderly couples and houses for sale. Even before Steve de-assholed, you’d still sneak out of the house to come drink stolen beers on the roof of his garage on the nights when he couldn’t stand to sleep. 

That being said, ‘welcoming’ was not really a word you’d use to describe the Harrington household. The guest room next to Steve’s was, similar to the living room, untouched and pristine. Perfectly made bed, easily palettable decor, somehow devoid of dust despite the fact that it was clear no one had used the room in a very long time. The bed had a pink comforter, a dusty-rose kind of color.

The two of you had only been apart for an hour, maybe less, before Steve heard a knock on his bedroom door. He opened it to find your teary eyes on the other side.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Steve asked. He couldn’t either. 

“I can’t-” you stuttered out. “I don’t think I can be alone right now.” 

Steve knew the feeling.

He stepped out of the doorway to make room for you to come in. The pair of you stood too close to one another in the middle of his room in heavy, suffocating silence. 

“I’m sorry,” Steve whispered.

“Don’t be,” you replied. You stepped forward and pressed your forehead against his shoulder. 

“I am, though. I got you wrapped up in this fucking mess,” Steve said as he wrapped you up in a hug. “And now you’re hurt, and it’s my fault.”

“I’m the one who wanted to help you guys. I could’a just gone home, but I chose to stay. You didn’t do that, I did.”

“I still think you deserve to be mad at me.” 

You stayed quiet for a moment, with Steve above your head wishing he could go back in time and fix all of this before it had the chance to get back to you.

“They told me you were dead,” you admitted through the quiet.

“What?”

“After they pulled me away,” you explained. “You and Robin, they told me you were both dead.”

“Oh, my god,” Steve huffed out. “Oh, my god, I’m so sorry.”

You muttered his name into his collar bone, and Steve pulled away just enough to be able to look at you. You were crying now, but so was he, and fuck, he wanted to kiss you. Kiss all of the tears away, and pull all of the horrible, fucked up things that had happened to you out of your memory, and as you stood looking at him, Steve realized that you had gotten the memo.

You leaned up and kissed him, so incredibly soft, making sure to be careful of his split lip. Steve’s eyes fluttered shut as his hands came to meet the junction of your jawline and neck. 

You pulled away from him first, tears still silently spilling from your eyes, and he touched his forehead to yours. 

“I’m really happy you’re not dead.”

February, 1989

Steve was entirely zoned out behind the counter at Family Video when the shrill ring of the phone broke through his trance

“Thank you for calling your local Family Video. My name is Steve, how can I help you today?” Steve regurgitated the same spiel as he does every time he picks up the phone. 

“What time do you get off work tonight?” you asked him. Steve knew your voice in an instant, and even through the crackle of the phone, he could hear that something was wrong.

“Eight. Why?” Steve inquired.

“I need you to come over,” you said. “It’s an emergency.”

Steve’s heart dropped into his stomach.

“Should I be calling Hopper?” he asked you. If something. . . upside down-ish was happening again, he was gonna lose his shit.

“No, nothing like that,” you clarified, and Steve let out a silent breath of relief. “It’s an entirely non-supernatural emergency.”

“Do you want me to come over now? I’m the boss-man. I can leave whenever I want,” Steve joked. He was trying his damnedest to hear your laugh come from the other end of the line.

“You’re a shift lead, Steve.”

“Yeah. Boss-man.” 

There was only silence on the line for a moment. 

“I don’t want you to get in trouble, is all,” you explained, and it made Steve's heart ache just a touch. 

“It’s fine, I won't,” Steve said to placate your worry. “Twenty minutes, okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” you said, though you didn’t sound thrilled. It made Steve worry even more as he hung up the phone. 

Steve knew the two of you were wildly codependent on each other. Believe him, Robin had been reminding him constantly over the past year since she’d caught the two of you in a house party bathroom. 

The fact that the pair of you hadn’t actually made it official yet, despite the fact that you’d been sleeping with each other with relative consistency for three and half years, definitely didn’t help matters at all. 

‘You are in love with her,’ Robin loved to point out. ‘And pretending to not be in love with her while also sleeping together is going to destroy your brain!’

She was right, of course. It absolutely was destroying his brain, but if he had to pick between having a destroyed brain but also having you, or not having a destroyed brain but also not having you, he’d pick a destroyed brain anyday. Even if he thought (knew) you didn’t necessarily feel the same way he did.

Steve parked his car in the empty space next to yours in your apartment building’s lot. He knew the code to the building’s door by heart now, and he’d had a spare key to your apartment for the last six months.

He let himself in, making sure to lock the door behind him once he was inside, and saw you shaking like a leaf on the couch. 

Steve paused for a moment before he dropped his car keys onto the little table by the door. He was instantly plunged into crisis-management mode. 

In recent years, Steve had become quite familiar with crisis management mode; put all the feelings to the side, and deal with the situation at hand. Was it healthy to stub out all of the mushy shit like that? No, probably not, but emotional healing was a lot easier to do when he didn’t have the threat of  interdimensional horror hanging over his head.

Though, over the phone, you had promised him there was no interdimensional horror at the moment.

He toed off his shoes and rounded the coffee table to crouch in front of you. Your eyes followed his every movement, wide and glassy and enough to make Steve’s rib cage feel like it was about to cave in. He took your hands in his.

“What happened?” he asked you. 

You shut your eyes, forcing more tears down the slope of your cheek. A small, quiet sob escaped your lips as you dipped your forehead onto Steve’s shoulder. He brought a hand up to graze over the back of your head, holding you close to him. 

You were tougher than you looked, always had been. That wasn’t to say that Steve ever thought you were weak, but you were timid and quiet. Shy since birth, you never really stood out to Steve as a fighter until he saw you crack a Russian soldier over the back of the head with his own gun. You’d had a fire in your eyes that could’ve rivaled Nancy’s that night, before you had all been separated from one another. That fire was decidedly missing right now, though. Your tears seemed to have extinguished it.

“Hey, hey. Tell me what’s going on, yeah?” Steve asked.

“I’m sorry,” you whimpered into his neck. You sounded small and, more pressingly, fucking terrified. Steve did his best to place a hand on either side of your face and pull back to get a good look at you, though you clearly didn’t want to be pulled away from your spot tucked into the collar of his crew-neck. 

“Sorry for what, baby?” Pet names had previously been reserved for dirty-talk purposes only, but you’d started calling him ‘handsome’ a few months back as a joke (which quickly became much less of a joke), and now that rule had been thrown out the window. One more blurry boundary line in your relationship. “I wanna help, but I can’t do that if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

“Steve,” you murmured.

“You’re scaring me,” Steve told you, and it was true. “Is it something with your mom? Did she call?”

“No. She won’t. You know she won’t.”

“Then what’s happening? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this upset, and I will do everything I can to help, but-”

“I’m pregnant.”

You whispered it and Steve swore he felt his heart stop. 

“What?” he whispered back. Surely you didn’t mean it. Surely he had to have misheard you.

“I’m pregnant.” 

Definitely hadn’t misheard you, then.

“You-” It felt a bit like his brain had been replaced by cotton balls. “How sure are you?”

“Uhm, I took a test here, and it came back positive, but the box said that you can get false results sometimes, so I waited a couple days and took another one, but then that said the same thing,” you rambled. “So then, I went to that clinic on Poplar and got a blood test, and they called me earlier today and said that that one was positive, too.”

“Very sure,” Steve said in response to your onslaught. 

You only nodded in agreement.

Steve could hear the drip drip drip of your leaky kitchen sink, the sound of your cat batting around his favorite toy mouse, your neighbors downstairs fighting like they did most nights. He could hear your ragged breathing, and the beginnings of your quiet sobs, and his own heartbeat in his ears. He didn’t know what to say to you, how to get you to calm down, and he didn’t think he had the mental capacity to figure it out right now, so he didn’t say anything at all. You stayed quiet too, tucked away in your own little world of the smell of Steve’s cologne and the soft of his hair. 

Steve was about two seconds away from completely shutting down when your pitiful voice sliced through the silence.

“Steve, I don’t know what to do.”

That kicked his brain back into gear. 

“That’s okay,” he said from his spot on the floor. His emotions get tucked underneath the floorboards so he can deal with yours first. “It’s okay. You don’t have to know right now.”

And you two stayed there, you on your couch and him with his back pressed against the hard edge of  your coffee table, for a good long while. Your sniffles had graduated to full on bawling and you were clinging to him like he was a liferaft. You were petrified. His head was swimming and he felt a little bit like his heart might explode, but he wasn’t about to let you know that. 

Logically, the next step would be to talk about. . . all of it. What you wanted to do, and what that would look like, and all of it, but you weren’t able to get a word in. Even though Steve knew it was what needed to happen next, the thought of actually having to face the music made him feel sick. 

“We’ll figure it out, alright?” Steve said into your hair. “We’ll figure it out. It’ll be okay. I promise.”

You just sort of fell limp against him once you had run out of tears. Steve’s back was starting to cramp up from being squished against the table, and when he moved to plant himself onto the sofa next to you, you stayed adhered to his side. 

“Steve, I don’t-”

“I know. It’s okay.” I don’t know what to do had become your mantra of the evening. Steve was in the exact same boat, though, and the best idea he’d had all night was distraction, so distraction it would be. He paused for a moment before asking you, “are you hungry?”

You tilted your gaze to him, looking confused.

“How ‘bout I go and get us something to eat from that diner you like, and we can watch a movie or something. Then we can talk about it in the morning, yeah?” Steve suggested. You didn’t seem all that on board with the idea, though. “Is that okay?”

“I can’t keep anything down,” you explained after a moment.

Oh, yeah. People get sick when they're pregnant. Steve hadn’t really thought about that part yet. 

“Right. Well, have you tried at all today?” he inquired. You shook your head.

“Not since last night.”

Great. You’re already terrified and now you can’t even eat.

“Look, I’ll get you a grilled cheese, and an extra large Sprite for your stomach in case the sandwich doesn’t work out, and I’ll stay here with you all night,” Steve said. 

“Okay,” you said with a nod and a sad smile. You seemed to understand what he was doing, though you showed no signs of protest. “Do you want me to go with you?”

“No, it’s okay,” Steve said as he got up and slipped his feet back into his shoes. He scooped up his keys and shot you a smile before opening the door. “I’ll be quick, I promise.”

You nodded, giving him the green light to leave. He half-jogged down the stairwell and out into the parking lot, and he barely made it into the driver’s seat before he started crying.

Guilt settled in his chest in an instant at the thought, but the first thing that popped into his head when he was finally alone was that his dad was going to fucking kill him. And not just in a figurative, ‘oh no I scratched the car, dad’s gonna kill me’ kind of way; his father was going to pick up a weapon and actually kill him. Then, Hopper was gonna kill him after his dad did. You two weren’t even actually dating; how was he going to explain any of this? ‘Hey, dad! I accidentally knocked up my not-quite-girlfriend/best friend with benefits!’  That’ll go over splendidly. That’s two people added to the list of people who wanted to kill him. 

What was going to happen next, then? He was having difficulty figuring out the answer. 

Whatever you wanted to do, obviously, but you didn’t know what that was, and yeah, he was scared shitless, but you were beyond terrified. Scared in a way Steve had never seen you before. That made him feel about a million times worse.

‘Cause he was still just a shitty kid, who still lived with his shitty parents and worked a shitty job, and even with his shitty promotion, he still made a shitty wage. A shitty wage that definitely wouldn’t be enough to raise a kid, and-

He was spiraling, he could feel it, and he’d never been more grateful to see the glowing neon of an OPEN sign in his life.

He parked the car. He got out of the car. He opened the door to the restaurant. He walked up to the counter and a girl he used to know from high school took his to-go order. If he remembered correctly, she was a tattoo apprentice.

“You alright?” possible-tattoo-apprentice ask Steve after ringing in the food. “You seem a little, I don’t know, freaked out.”

“Yeah,” Steve replied with a tight lipped smile and curt nod. “Yeah, no. I’m good.”

She looked right through his lie, but moved on to a couple of older men sitting at the counter with coffee refills anyway.

 Steve, in the ten minutes it took for the food to come out, stood leaning against the wall in utter silence. In that silence, he allowed himself to live in what was probably an irresponsible thought; the one where the two of you actually did have a kid, and a house, and maybe a dog if he’s lucky. Something that maybe was a lot less far off in the future than he thought. Steve used to want kids, when he was younger. Maybe it was just the fact that he’d had every single stereotype of the American dream shoved down his throat his whole life, but he really had wanted it at one point. That was before everything, though. Before the monsters, and the chaos, and all the awful shit he’d roped you into. Before it all came back, and then came back again, again, again. Any dream of a family had been stubbed out by the fear that it could all one day be ripped apart. 

Despite that, despite the fact that he knew every single reason that it could never happen like the back of his goddamn hand, he did nothing to try and save himself from drowning in the fantasy. The image of you holding his baby made his chest go tight and he wanted it more than anything in the world, but fuck, what happens if everything goes to shit again? He had done a pretty awful job at keeping you away from it the first few times, you had the nightmares to prove it, so how could he possibly protect his kid from it, too?

The food came out and he was rocked back into reality.

He left the restaurant, stopping on the way back to your apartment at a 7/11 for the Sprite he had promised. He grabbed some anti-nausea medicine too, but it wasn’t until he got into the car that he realized there was a big warning on the back of the box: ‘Do not take if you are pregnant or breastfeeding.’ 

Awesome.

He did his best to scrub any evidence of tears out of his eyes in the rearview mirror, and got out of the car.

You were waiting for him on the couch, just as you had been when he had left. You smiled at him when he walked through the door, still the sad self pitying kind, but a smile nonetheless. 

“I come bearing grilled cheese,” he said as he placed the bag on the coffee table. The joke didn’t land.

“You were crying?” you asked once you were able to get a good look at him, the shake in your voice back once again. Clearly he hadn’t done a good enough job in the rear view. 

“N-no, no. I wasn’t, I-”

“You were,” you interrupted him, and Steve knew better than to try and deny it. You looked like you were about to start crying again, too, and Steve could feel the twist of the knife in his side. He rounded the table to sit next to you, and you drew yourself into him in an instant. Tucked into his arms, you did start crying again (how you had any tears left, Steve didn’t know) and just barely whispered, “I’m sorry.”

“Hey, hey. No sorries, okay?” he said. You wouldn’t look up at him, just shook your head. “Look, if we’re gonna blame anybody, it should probably be me, right?”

Thankfully, that line was enough to finally bubble a laugh out of your chest.

“I’m serious!” Steve took the joke and ran with it in a desperate attempt to lift your spirits even in the slightest. “I mean, it was my, y’know. . . fluids.”

“Oh, gross, dude!” you exclaimed, playfully slapping his shoulder as you sat up straight. “Don’t say it like that!”

“That’s just biology, babe.”

“I know that, I just don’t want to have to think about your fluids when I’m trying to eat,” you quipped at him as you pulled the styrofoam boxes out of the bag on the table, opening the first of the two and passing it his way. It seemed like you were feeling better, and even if you were faking it, Steve would take it. 

“Hey,” Steve called to you through the quiet chatter of the TV after a moment. You turned your face to meet his and the moment his eyes locked on to yours, it seemed like every word he had wanted to say to you had slipped out of his mind. Your voice reeled them all back in, though.

“Yeah?”

“Whatever you wanna do, okay?” he stuttered out. He was pretty sure he might start crying again.

“Right. Yeah.” Your smile faded in an instant at the reminder of the situation.

“And whatever that, y’know, looks like,” Steve continues. “I’ll be right next to you, holding your hand the whole time.”

You give him a pitiful, heart crushing smile, and the pair of you didn’t bring it up again all night. 

[wintershieldedheart]

☆ Bucky & Margot ☆

@soviet-ghost-story

continuation of x

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆  

☆        the way his voice cracked made her chest ache with both guilt and concern. Clearly, he was dehydrated, but she doubted that was the worst of it. She didn’t want to think about how much firepower it took to apprehend him, and she didn’t want to think about what all he’d suffered in the time that they’d had him. Since she’d found out that he was MIA, Margot had been relentless in her search, and not at all shy about dragging other people in on it. The person she’d become in an efforts to bring him home was the person HYDRA always knew she could be; a ruthless soldier would do anything to complete her mission. Old training had kicked in the same way muscle remembered how to ride a bike, and Margot had prepared herself to do whatever was necessary in order to find him. 

rage made it’s way up her spine as she took in the fact that he was hurt recently enough that he still hadn’t healed, and that he’d been stripped of his arm; again. Despite the fire behind her eyes, alight with calculated anger, there was still an openness in her posture when she it came to him. Margot was furious for him, not with him, and she hoped he could tell that. At his words though, even her gaze softened and Margot gave him her best version of a smile, ‘ hey, Ada, we’re okay. there’s no one here that can hurt us, not anymore, ‘ she promised. 

taking the keycard she’d swiped, Margot got the cell opened with little ceremony. Vaulting to the entrance, she put an arm out so that she could help support him. ‘ don’t worry, ‘m not alone, ‘ she vowed. Giving him an incredulous look, Margot murmured, ‘ I wasn’t going to stop until I found you. remember, ‘m never leaving you behind again. ‘ 

[oftlunarialmoon]

MOVIES ON YOUTUBE

Cats Don't Dance

The Borrowers

Osmosis Jones

Bratz Live Action Movie

Judy Moody and the Not Bummer Summer

Ugly Dolls

Old/B Horror Movies (scary warning)

Maya the Bee Movie

Sailor Moon S the Movie

Sailor Moon SuperS the Movie

Alpha & Omega: Journey to Bear Kingdom

Anastasia

Snow White

A Stork's Journey

The Ant Bully

Quackerz

Uncle P

I Am T-Rex

The Clique

Hoot

Pixies

Dan Vs. - The Wolf-Man

The Breadwinner

Just My Luck

Penelope

Twilight Zone: The Movie

Daisies (1966) (one of my favourite art films from Czechoslovakia in the pre-soviet era)

Into the Woods (2014)

Fantastic Mr. Fox

Sailor Moon (Original Japanese)

The Carol Burnett Show

Popeye Cartoon

Naruto (English Subtitled) (Subbed)

H2O: Just Add Water

The Dick Van Dyke Show

Hunter x Hunter (Subbed) (Subbed)

Ghostbusters

The Neverending Story

It Takes Two

Peanuts: Race for Your Life Charlie Brown

Thunder And The House Of Magic

Quest for Camelot

Adventures Of Shark Boy And Lava Girl

Arthur's Missing Pal

Ghost Hunters International

The Big Comfy Couch

Me, Eloise!

Kitchen Nightmares

Wow! Wow! Wubbzy

Death Note (Subbed) (Subbed)

Candid Camera

Flash Gordon

Street Fighter - The Animated Series

Hell's Kitchen

Captain Simian & the Space Monkeys

Hello Kitty

The Storyteller

The Weird Al Show

Treehouse Masters

Inuyasha (Subbed) (Subbed)

Care Bears: Grizzle-ly Adventures

Wow, I Never Knew That!

Are You Smarter Than A Fifth Grader

Bruno & The Banana Bunch

Care Bears: Welcome to Care-A-Lot

Beyond Belief: Fact or Fiction

Patchwork Pals

ALF

Storm Chasers

Little Rascals Shorts

The Lone Ranger

All Dogs Go To Heaven

Baby Einstein Classics

Baby Einstein: The Sandbox