𝑻𝑶 𝑹𝑬𝑴𝑬𝑴𝑩𝑬𝑹..

𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐀𝐓𝐄 & 𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄. 𝑃𝐸𝑅𝐶𝐸𝐼𝑉𝐸𝐷 𝐵𝑌 𝐽𝐴𝐶𝐾.

[vspomnit]

𝐈'𝐋𝐋 𝐒𝐄𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐑───

an independent portrayal of 𝑴𝑨𝑹𝑽𝑬𝑳'𝑺 𝑩𝑼𝑪𝑲𝒀 𝑩𝑨𝑹𝑵𝑬𝑺, written & captivated by yours truly, 𝑱𝑨𝑪𝑲. he/him/they/them. 31. this portrayal is 𝙋𝙍𝙄𝙑𝘼𝙏𝙀 & 𝙃𝙄𝙂𝙃𝙇𝙔 𝙎𝙀𝙇𝙀𝘾𝙏𝙄𝙑𝙀. minors are prohibited from interacting & any personal blogs not related to roleplay will be automatically blocked. THIS PORTRAYAL IS NOT AFFILIATED WITH THE COMICS, so please do not follow if you are only looking for a comic based writer. i likely will not follow you first, unless i know you personally. if i do not follow you back, this is not against you as a person- i am simply curating my experience to best suit me. i have been around for a long time & i have seen a lot of shit. if you do not have good intentions, please stay away from me.

BEFORE YOU FOLLOW ME... this interpretation focuses heavily on trauma & mental instability. triggering content will occur on this blog. if you are sensitive to eating disorders, suicidal ideation, mentions of abuse (physical, sexual, mental), among many other things, i highly recommend you do not follow me. i do try to tag things accordingly, but i am only human and i make mistakes. by following me, you are agreeing to potentially harmful material. i do not write anything explicitly or graphically, but it is advised to use caution.

i am a person with BPD who is writing someone i interpret as having BPD. you do not have to agree with me; everyone is welcome to their own opinion. i will respect yours, so please respect mine.

[ directory. ] everything you need to know is located in the directory. you are not authorized to interact until it has been read. failure to comply will result in extermination.

𝒊'𝒍𝒍 𝒔𝒆𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒓...

[vspomnit]

last post for the night lol i'm off to bed. lots to think about.

[vspomnit]

on another note... i'm lowkey thinking about bringing my vampire oc back. i still need to finish Asher and all that, but i really, really miss my morally gray guy.

[vspomnit]

hello, friends. i have returned from movie time. it's 12:30am now which is about par for the course. i will say, though, that backrooms? hella cool movie. i knew it was going to be but i never go into any movie with expectations in case it disappoints me. Kane absolutely killed it. i loved the atmosphere and the psychology of it all. phenomenal all around.

[vspomnit]

it's been an emotional day for a variety of reasons. not all bad. but that said, it is now time for me to indulge in movie time. byeeeee.

[vspomnit]

if people could stop demonizing bpd that would be gr9

[vspomnit]

You could have died out there. You could have died and I would have been the last person to know. :))))

@formerfirstson

guilt – it constricts in his chest; expanding with each stuttering breath he takes.

the look on TJ’s face is almost too much to bear and for the first time in a long time, he is reminded that there are people who count on him to come home. it’s not a nice reminder. Bucky doesn’t get enjoyment from this and he hates the break in his nephew’s voice, the unshed tears glistening in his eyes. within a few short seconds of TJ bursting through the door of the hospital wing, Bucky’s entire world starts tipping on its axis. those moments stretch on as Bucky stares, unable to speak. he’s left in a daze; his heart is lodged painfully in his throat.

Bucky’s memory is often scattered and many pieces are missing, even to this day. TJ has been in his life long enough now that sometimes he forgets they share the same DNA. here, in this moment though, Bucky startles. TJ looks like the sisters he left behind.

his mouth opens and closes, repeatedly. as much as he tries, words just won’t come out. even if they did, he has no idea what he’d say.

does he apologize? does he say “it won’t happen again”? this gig – this job – its demanding and dangerous and his life is always on the line. he’s never been reckless with his life before, but after Hydra and Steve, sometimes being reckless is the only thing reminding him he’s alive. and maybe, unconsciously, he’s reckless because at least if he dies this time, it’s his choice, and no one else’s.

he doesn’t want to die – he doesn’t.

but as long as he’s alive, he’s never going to be free.

Bucky doesn’t remember the mission. he doesn’t even remember being debriefed or what he did – who he was with. just one more thing he doesn’t remember; another piece of a puzzle, lost in the far recess of his traumatized mind.

all Bucky knows is that he’s here, in a room located in the hospital wing of the watchtower. he knows this to be true, because Val consistently makes damn sure he only ever ends up in the room with the Captain America poster hanging on the wall. Steve’s face stares at him from across the room, taunting, judging. Valentina has a sick sense of humor.

he doesn’t know who called TJ or why they did. he wasn’t dead and he wasn’t dying. except when he looks at the clock next to Steve, the analog tells him it’s the 13th. he could have sworn yesterday was the 7th.

he wants to grab the remote to lift the bed so he can sit up, but the sling makes moving his arm impossible, so instead, like a child throwing a tantrum, he throws his body back in frustration. of course, it accomplishes nothing but reminding him he’s in the hospital wing for a reason as pain envelopes him in its warm embrace. because of his stupid, childish action, he’s forced to remain still, glaring at the photo of Steve and his stupid smiling face. the poster, motivational as always, has ‘YOU CAN DO THIS!’ in big, bold letters. it mocks him.

when the pain subsides, he finally knows what to say.

“maybe i should have,” he says. his voice scratches and like everything else, it hurts. he wishes he knew what happened. “maybe i should have died. then you wouldn’t have to worry about me anymore.”

[vspomnit]

i recognize i've hurt people and that i'm not perfect, that i make mistakes. but i own up to it and if i'm given the chance, i will apologize. i also understand that boundaries exist and if someone doesn't want me to contact them, i will not break that boundary, even if i really want them to know how sorry i am for whatever i did. i do not get to decide what hurts someone and what doesn't. people are allowed to be upset, even if hurt was not the intent.

so tell me. if i can understand all this, why does no one else? why do i always end up an exception to the rule? if someone hurts me, it's always my fault.

why is it always my fault

[vspomnit]

“it’s a promise.”

for as long as he’s been back in his own mind, Bucky’s not been a very touchy person. his therapist says it’s likely linked to all the trauma he’s endured over the past seventy or so years. he doesn’t like to think about that, though, so he doesn’t.

that being said, Sophia is one of few people he is comfortable letting touch him. she’s been a pretty big staple in his recovery process (at least that’s what his therapist has concluded) which seems to be backed up by that. while that doesn’t mean he’s open to anyone touching him (especially unprompted) it does mean that he’s slowly opening himself up to the possibility of letting other people in.

he’s still a work in progress and obviously has a long way to go, but it’s a start.

Sophia isn’t the first person he’s given any sort of physical affection to (TJ, Sam, Steve) but she’s the one who pulls it from him the most.

(his relationship with Sam is too strained these days and they’ve always been a little stiff around each other anyway; TJ isn’t all that touchy-feely with Bucky, but that might also be because he knows Bucky will initiate it if he wants it; Steve . . . well. maybe if Steve were here, things would be different. but Steve isn’t here so, there are things he’ll never know)

Sophia is a warm, comforting presence. she reminds him of his sisters. he used to be their protector, their guardian, but sometimes, they held him, too. Bucky was stubborn and tried to hold the world on his shoulders; they reminded him he didn’t have to do it alone. Sophia reminds him of that, too. his sisters may be gone now, and Sophia isn’t going to replace them or fill the void they left behind, but that didn’t mean she isn’t just as important.

so, Bucky leans into her and lets her hold him. it still takes him a moment to relax, but eventually, he holds her, too.

comfort. warmth. love.

he gently takes one of her hands into his (human hand- always human) and brings it towards his mouth to press a featherlight kiss there. “i know.”

he lets go of her hand, only to offer up his pinky with a soft grin spread across his face.

“pinky promise?”

@lievester

[vspomnit]

okay, i'm gonna go to the movies tonight. do i see obsession or backrooms

[mournfulroses]

Simone de Beauvoir, from a letter to Nelson Algren, featured in "A Transatlantic Love Affair,"

[vspomnit]

my son had an awards ceremony at school earlier n he won three awards and got a medal for track. i'm so very proud of my little man. that said, i took him out to eat and??? someone??? paid for our ticket???? y'all, that was the last thing i was expecting, but after our food was delivered, the waitress came up and told me that and i???? man, for all the bad that's in the world, there really is some good.

[vspomnit]

I'm sorry. I know that doesn't fix anything, but I'm sorry.

he’s staring hard at the ground – as if doing so would open it up to swallow him whole. it would be nice if it were that easy, but life has never been a picnic in the park. when he was drafted into the war, he thought things couldn’t possibly get worse than that. how wrong – how naïve – he’d been back then. he was so young . . . even now, it’s like he’s barely aged a day. sometimes, when he looks in the mirror, he’s shocked at what he finds. the world moved on while his stood still.

he was robbed – the life he thought he was going to live was gone in a blink of an eye. everything he knew was stripped away; stolen right out of his fingertips.

it was never about being displaced. Bucky doesn’t care what year it is. time was irrelevant.

he tries not to think about it, but sometimes it’s really fucking hard not to.

he missed out on so much – Evie’s graduation, the birth of Winnie’s first child, Becca’s wedding. the other day, he saw two young kids, maybe seventeen or eighteen, and they were all dressed up, like they were heading to some dance. he thought about the girl he took to one of their school dances and decided he would try and find her, see where her life lead. but he realized he didn’t remember her name. it made him think, too – if he didn’t remember her name, did she remember his? or was he just some person she knew a long time ago? everyone Bucky knew is gone – if anyone is still alive, he’d been dead to them for so long they probably never even recognized him.

he knows it’s probably funny to people; a man out of time, trying to understand the 21st century. but they only see one side. no one ever thinks about what he left behind. what was taken from him.

moments like this, Bucky really hates Steve. he hates Steve because not only did he abandon Bucky to live some apple-pie American dream life without him, but he also left him completely and utterly alone. he felt condemned – Steve said it wasn’t him, that what he did was out of his control. yet, Bucky’s still being punished anyway.

Bucky can scream he hates Steve all he wants; he can scream it until his throat is raw and bleeding. the lie will never stop being a lie.

he doesn’t remember sinking into the couch cushions. he barely recalls Yelena’s presence in the room, if not for the way the couch dipped as she sat next to him. absently, Bucky knows she’s spoken and that she was talking to him. her sitting next to him confirmed that. but the words are too distant, too faint, to decipher. all that’s left is its echo.

he doesn’t even remember what caused the catalyst. what happened? what changed?

he squints. focusing.

then, he looks at his hands.

a black and white photo is crumpled between his fingers. when he smoothens it out, he remembers.

Bucky looks away from the photo and looks at Yelena instead. there’s a lump in his throat.

“it’s okay,” he says- his voice catches. he doesn’t believe his own lie. “it doesn’t matter anyway.”  

@whitewdow

[quoteastic]

I think we feel it the most at night because at the end of the day our hearts just want to be home, but our homes aren't always where we rest our heads.

[vspomnit]

"hey, are you good?" bob reynolds

@topshelfperverts

the silence of the room is startling – the only sound comes from the air conditioning unit across the room, with its soft pssh pssh. he doesn’t know how long he’s been sitting here, on a bed that doesn’t belong to him.

well, technically, he supposes it does belong to him. this is supposed to be his room. if Bucky actually lived in the tower. but Bucky couldn’t do that and it’s not because he has two feline companions that Val refused to let into the building. it’s because every time Bucky looked at it, the only thing he could think about was Steve. Steve…. and Tony. mostly Steve, but Stark haunts him, too. as much as he’d love to pretend like he didn’t know what used to stand in the watchtower’s place, he doesn’t think that’s ever going to happen.

the walls remember, and so does he.

so Bucky doesn’t live here. this fact is made evident of the clinical white room, housing only a full-size bed and a dresser in the corner. he is the only thing out of place here. that and the Captain America faux shield (circa 1940) that was left for him the first time Val gave them their rooms. maybe Val thought it would be funny or maybe she genuinely didn’t think it would upset him; he doesn’t know which is worse.

on the day that Val gave them their rooms, Bucky saw the shield and stared for far too long. eventually, when he got his body to cooperate, he took the shield and placed it in the closet. it remained there until now. guilt gnawed at his insides, and maybe he needed a reminder . . . of what, he’s still not certain of. he took the shield out of the closet and leaned it up against the wall. he’s been staring at it ever since.

he heard Bob’s shuffle as he stood at the doorway, but he doesn’t tear his gaze away. he left the door open. he had no intention of sticking around, so there was no reason to close it. he just needed a moment to himself; away from all the noise of a team he’s still not entirely sure he deserves. as much as Bucky would like to believe he’s on the right path, the empty void that resides next to him has yet to disappear.

everyone expects him to have it together, to be some kind of leader. he doesn’t know why they think he’s capable of any of that. sometimes, all he wants is to run away.

but the shield follows him. wherever he goes, whatever he does, it’s never going to go away.

Bucky can feel Bob’s eyes on him; can hear the awkward movement of his clothes. Bucky was so certain that Bob was just going to leave, but he surprises him when he speaks instead. at his question, Bucky finally turns away from the shield and looks at him. he wonders how he looks in Bob’s eyes. then, he pushes the thought away. maybe it’s better if he doesn’t know.

“yeah,” he says and stands on his feet. he stretches before walking towards Bob and briefly, delicately, uses his flesh hand to bump his shoulder with his fist. “come on, Bob. they’re going to eat all the pizza if we don’t hurry up.” he guides Bob away from the door; again, his touch is gentle, featherlight.

once Bob is away from the door, Bucky turns and grabs the doorknob to close it. his eyes linger on the shield; a familiar feeling rises in his chest and for a moment, he hesitates. like there’s something he should remember, but no matter how hard he tries to find it, the memory slips away.

he closes the door and turns back to Bob, a smile on his face as he briefly clasps his hand on his shoulder, steering him away. “so, pizza?”

[vspomnit]

people really need to learn to hop off, man.

[vspomnit]

i really wanna make a pride icon for Bucky but i literally have no idea how to go about it. that's a problem for future me (tomorrow) so in the mean time, i sleeps. mwah. love u guys <3