#allow characters be authentic in their ways of processing their life’s losses

[randomness-is-my-order]

sometimes, i actually don’t appreciate it when people interpret wei wuxian’s life philosophy of “remember the good, forget the bad” (speaking very loosely) as some kind of low self-esteem or method of devaluing his own self and struggles or repressing his emotions because, and get this, grief looks different on different people. people process it in unique, downright bizarre ways sometimes. why do we have this idea in our heads about what “coping with grief” should look like on our characters or that if they aren’t dwelling on everything wrong done to them, they are somehow unhealthy in their relationship with loss/grief? that this is just putting a lid on a volcano? because when has the text ever indicated that wei wuxian is merely brushing off his negative emotions related to a loss, rather than literally overcoming it that quick as his ideology on it has stated to be? and it isn’t even that wei wuxian isn’t shown to mourn things–he is devastated by wen ning and wen qing’s sacrifice, he cries after the attack on lotus pier, he even accepts how the loss of his core upset him and he does reminisce about things of the past. it is merely that his mental fortitude works a certain way and allows him to leave the bad things behind to move forward towards better things, better memories, better experiences. it’s not an unhealthy coping mechanism, it is literally how wei wuxian is and you know what? i can’t relate either but i love that for him because it works for him because at the end of the day, the whole point of emotional baggages is that you need to shed them off to make space for something much better and wei wuxian is able to do that, time and time again, and that’s wonderful.

[thewriteadviceforwriters]

Hey! I was reading on your character arcs and was wondering how you would write character regression over the course of the story :)

Hey there, fellow writer! Thanks so much for your message. Sorry, this response took so long. But, I'm thrilled that you found my posts on character arcs helpful, and I'm excited to dive into the topic of character regression with you. It's a fascinating and complex aspect of storytelling that can add so much depth to our narratives when done well.

What is Character Regression?

Before we dive into the nitty-gritty, let's define what we mean by character regression. In essence, character regression is the opposite of character growth or development. It's when a character moves backwards in terms of their personal growth, beliefs, or behavior. They might lose skills they once had, revert to old, harmful patterns, or abandon positive traits they've developed.

This doesn't mean your character simply becomes "worse" or "evil." Regression is a nuanced process that can happen for various reasons and manifest in different ways. It's about your character losing ground on their personal journey, facing setbacks, or struggling with challenges that push them back towards old habits or mindsets.

Why Use Character Regression?

Now, you might be wondering, "Why would I want my character to regress? Isn't that the opposite of what we usually aim for in storytelling?" Great question! While it's true that we often focus on character growth, regression can be an incredibly powerful tool in your storytelling toolkit. Here's why:

Realism: Let's face it, real life isn't a straight line of constant improvement. We all face setbacks, make mistakes, and sometimes fall back into old patterns. Including regression in your character's journey can make them feel more authentic and relatable.

Conflict and Tension: Regression can create internal conflict for your character and tension in your story. It gives your character something to struggle against, adding depth to their arc.

Emotional Impact: Watching a character we care about struggle or backslide can be incredibly emotional for readers, creating a strong connection to the story.

Set-up for Greater Growth: Sometimes, a character needs to hit rock bottom before they can truly grow. Regression can set the stage for even more significant character development later in the story.

Exploring Complex Themes: Character regression allows you to delve into themes like addiction, trauma, fear of change, or the difficulty of personal growth.

How to Write Character Regression

Alright, now that we've covered the what and why, let's get into the how. Writing character regression requires a delicate touch and careful planning. Here are some steps and tips to help you navigate this tricky terrain:

(Beware Very Long Post!)

Establish a Baseline

Before you can show regression, you need to establish where your character starts. What skills do they have? What are their core beliefs and values? What positive traits define them? This baseline will be crucial for showing how the character changes over time.

For example, let's say we have a character named Alex who starts the story as a confident, outgoing person with a strong sense of right and wrong. This is our baseline. (I will be using "Alex" as an example character for the remainder of the post)

Identify the Catalyst

Regression doesn't happen in a vacuum. There's usually a triggering event or series of events that start the process. This could be a traumatic experience, a significant loss, a series of failures, or even a gradual wearing down of the character's resolve.

In Alex's case, maybe they witness a horrific crime that shakes their faith in humanity and the justice system.

Show Gradual Changes

Regression, like growth, usually happens gradually. Start with small changes in behavior, thought patterns, or reactions to situations. These should be subtle at first, things that the character (and maybe even the reader) might not immediately notice.

Alex might start being a little less friendly to strangers, or hesitate before helping someone in need – small shifts that hint at bigger changes to come.

Internal Conflict

As the character begins to regress, show their internal struggle. They likely won't be happy about these changes and might fight against them. This internal conflict can be a great source of tension and character depth.

Alex might berate themselves for their newfound hesitation, trying to force themselves to be the person they used to be.

External Consequences

The character's regression should have real consequences in their world. How does it affect their relationships? Their job? Their role in the main plot of your story?

Maybe Alex's friends start to notice their withdrawal and become concerned. Or perhaps their hesitation in a crucial moment leads to negative consequences in the main plot.

Escalation

As the story progresses, the regression should become more pronounced. The character might start to rationalize their behavior, or fully embrace their new, regressed self.

Alex might start actively avoiding social situations, or develop a cynical worldview that contrasts sharply with their former optimism.

Rock Bottom

In many stories with character regression, there's a "rock bottom" moment – a point where the regression reaches its peak. This is often a powerful, emotional scene that fully illustrates how far the character has fallen.

For Alex, this might be a moment where they refuse to help someone in danger, fully betraying their former values.

Potential for Redemption

Even if your story ends with the character in a regressed state, it can be powerful to show a glimmer of their former self. This hints at the potential for future growth and can leave the reader with a sense of hope (or tragedy, if that potential is never realized).

Maybe in Alex's darkest moment, they have a flicker of doubt about their new worldview, or a memory of who they used to be.

Tips for Writing Effective Character Regression

Now that we've covered the general process, here are some additional tips to help you write compelling character regression:

Keep it Believable: The reasons for the regression should make sense for the character and the story. Don't have a character completely change overnight without good reason.

Show, Don't Tell: Instead of simply stating that a character has regressed, show it through their actions, thoughts, and dialogue.

Use Supporting Characters: Other characters can serve as mirrors, reflecting the changes in your regressing character and providing commentary on those changes.

Maintain Sympathy: Even as your character regresses, try to maintain reader sympathy. Help the reader understand why the character is making these choices, even if they don't agree with them.

Consider the Pacing: Regression can happen at different speeds. It might be a slow burn throughout the story, or a rapid descent following a major event. Choose the pacing that works best for your narrative.

Don't Forget the Positives: Regression doesn't mean a character loses all their positive traits. They might still show flashes of their old self, adding complexity to their portrayal.

Use Metaphors and Symbolism: Visual cues, recurring motifs, or symbolic elements can help underscore the character's regression in subtle ways.

Explore Different Types of Regression: Regression can be moral, emotional, professional, or related to specific skills or relationships. Mix and match for a nuanced portrayal.

Common Pitfalls to Avoid

As with any writing technique, there are some common pitfalls to watch out for when writing character regression:

Making it Too Sudden: Unless there's a massively traumatic event, regression usually doesn't happen overnight. Be careful not to have your character change too quickly without proper buildup.

Losing Reader Sympathy: If your character's regression makes them completely unlikeable, you risk losing reader investment. Always strive to keep them understandable, even if not always sympathetic.

Inconsistent Motivation: Make sure the reasons for your character's regression remain consistent and logical within the context of your story.

Ignoring the Impact on Plot: Remember that character regression should impact your main story. Don't let it become a subplot that doesn't connect to the main narrative.

Overdoing It: Regression doesn't mean your character has to become a completely different person. Maintain some core aspects of their personality to keep them recognizable.

Examples from Literature and Media

Sometimes, it helps to see how other writers have handled character regression. Here are a few examples you might find inspiring:

Walter White from "Breaking Bad": His transformation from mild-mannered teacher to drug kingpin is a masterclass in character regression.

Daenerys Targaryen from "Game of Thrones": Her descent into ruthlessness in the final season is a controversial but noteworthy example of character regression.

Oscar Wilde's Dorian Gray: His moral decay over the course of the novel is a classic example of character regression in literature.

Michael Corleone in "The Godfather": His transformation from war hero to ruthless mafia boss is a powerful portrayal of moral regression.

Studying these and other examples can give you ideas on how to handle regression in your own writing.

Final Thoughts

Writing character regression can be challenging, but it's also an incredibly rewarding aspect of storytelling. It allows us to explore the complexities of human nature, the fragility of personal growth, and the myriad ways that life can shape and reshape us. When done well, it can create some of the most memorable and impactful characters in literature.

Remember, there's no one "right" way to write character regression. The key is to make it authentic to your character and your story. Let it grow organically from the events of your plot and the unique personality of your character. And most importantly, don't be afraid to dig deep into the messy, complicated aspects of human nature.

As writers, we have the privilege and responsibility of reflecting the full spectrum of human experience in our work. Character regression is a part of that spectrum, and embracing it can lead to richer, more nuanced storytelling.

Balancing Regression and Reader Expectations

One thing to keep in mind as you write character regression is the balance between realistic portrayal and reader expectations. Readers often come to stories expecting character growth, so a character who regresses can be jarring or even frustrating if not handled carefully.

Here are a few strategies to help manage this:

Foreshadowing: Hint at the potential for regression early in the story. This can help prepare readers for what's to come.

Clear Motivation: Make sure the reasons for the regression are clear and understandable, even if not agreeable.

Moments of Hope: Intersperse moments where the character shows glimmers of their former self or potential for growth. This can help maintain reader investment.

Character Self-Awareness: Having the character acknowledge their regression can help readers process it.

Narrative Purpose: Ensure the regression serves a clear purpose in your overall story. If readers can see why it's necessary, they're more likely to accept it.

Character Regression in Different Genres

The way you approach character regression might vary depending on the genre you're writing in. Here's how it might look in different contexts:

In Literary Fiction: Character regression often serves as a deep exploration of human nature and societal influences. It might be subtle and psychological, focusing on internal changes rather than external actions.

In Fantasy or Science Fiction: Regression might be tied to magical or technological elements. Perhaps a character loses special abilities, or technology they relied on fails them, forcing them to regress to a more primitive state.

In Romance: Regression could manifest as a character retreating from emotional vulnerability, perhaps due to heartbreak or fear. The challenge becomes learning to open up again.

In Thrillers or Crime Fiction: A character might regress morally, crossing lines they never thought they would. This can create intense internal conflict and external tension.

In Horror: Regression might take on a more visceral or psychological form, with characters losing their grip on reality or reverting to primal states in the face of terror.

Character Regression and Story Structure

Consider how character regression fits into your overall story structure. It can be a powerful tool at different points in your narrative:

As an Inciting Incident: A character's sudden regression could be the event that kicks off your main plot.

During the Rising Action: Regression can add complications and raise the stakes as your story progresses.

At the Midpoint: A significant regression at the midpoint can dramatically shift the direction of your story.

During the Dark Night of the Soul: This low point in many story structures is a perfect place for a character to experience severe regression.

In the Resolution: Sometimes, a story might end with a character's regression, leaving readers with a sense of tragedy or unresolved tension.

The Role of Regression in Character Ensembles

If you're writing a story with multiple main characters, character regression can play an interesting role in group dynamics. Here are a few ways to use it:

Contrast: Have one character regress while others grow, highlighting the different paths people can take when faced with similar challenges.

Domino Effect: One character's regression might trigger changes in others, either pushing them to grow in response or causing them to regress as well.

Support Systems: Show how a group responds to one member's regression. Do they try to help? Enable the behavior? Distance themselves?

Power Dynamics: Regression can shift the balance of power within a group, creating new conflicts and alliances.

Regression and Theme

Character regression can be a powerful way to explore and reinforce your story's themes. For example:

If your theme is about the corrupting influence of power, showing a character regress morally as they gain more influence can underscore this idea.

For a theme about the importance of human connection, you might show a character regressing into isolation and the negative effects this has.

If you're exploring ideas about identity, having a character regress to an earlier version of themselves can raise interesting questions about who we really are.

A Word of Encouragement

As I wrap up this deep dive into character regression, I want to offer a word of encouragement. Writing regression can be emotionally taxing. It often requires us to delve into dark places, to imagine our characters at their worst, to confront difficult truths about human nature. This can be challenging, even distressing at times.

Remember to take care of yourself as you write. It's okay to step back if things get too intense. Talk to fellow writers about what you're working on. Engage in self-care practices that help you process and separate from the darker elements of your work.

And most importantly, don't lose sight of why you're including regression in your story. Whether it's to create a more realistic character journey, to explore complex themes, or to set up a powerful redemption arc, keep that purpose in mind. Let it guide you through the difficult moments of writing.

Remember, every character's journey is unique. There's no one-size-fits-all approach to writing regression. Trust your instincts, stay true to your character and your story, and don't be afraid to push boundaries and explore uncomfortable truths. That's where the most powerful writing often emerges.

I hope this deep dive into character regression has been helpful! Keep writing, keep exploring, and never stop pushing yourself to grow as a storyteller. Your voices and your stories matter.

Happy writing, - Rin T

Sources:

K.M. Weiland's blog post: "How to Write Character Arcs: The Flat Arc"

K.M. Weiland's "Helping Writers Become Authors" blog: "5 Ways to Write a Negative Character Arc"

TV Tropes: "Fallen Hero" 

[lurkingshan]

After reading this post from @waitmyturtles about her read on Fire and Dynamite, I was thinking a bit more about the way the show has handled their story and what I love about it. And I think it comes down to a crucial point: Cooking Crush, unlike most Thai bl, is NOT in the bubble, and the presence of homophobia, both internal and external, cannot be separated from their story. This is a queer narrative to the core.

Both Fire and Dynamite are shaped by their sexuality and their experiences or fear of rejection because of it. Dynamite is out and proud and unapologetic about what he wants, and as we learn when his backstory is revealed to us, this is a direct response to the familial rejection he experienced when he came out. Dy is defiant and in your face with his desires because he has already experienced the worst kind of rejection and is always bracing for more. So he dares people to do it right out of the gate. He likes to know where he stands with people, so he’d rather be his brashest self and suffer the loss early before getting attached. He deals with fear by daring people to prove him right.

Fire takes his fear in the opposite direction, denying who he is and rejecting anything that makes him think too hard about the aspects of himself he does not want to deal with. Even without Dynamite in the picture, it was clear that he was trying to talk himself into liking Jane in a way he simply did not. Once we got to know his mother, the source of his fear became crystal clear, and it was easy to see why he worked so hard to suppress himself. Fire was unhappy living that way, and Dynamite was a constant reminder of what he was trying to keep down, so it’s no wonder he reacted so viscerally to him.

But that’s exactly why their story works. Fire needed someone who he couldn’t ignore to draw out his true self, and because Dynamite is so unwilling to put up with mixed messages and half-hearted declarations, Fire had to work himself all the way out before Dy would accept him. One of the genius things this show did in their arc was have Dy pull away as soon as Fire began sending mixed signals. Dynamite was fine in the face of Fire’s firm rejection—it as what he always expected to get from him along with everyone else. But he wouldn’t allow Fire to run hot and cold on him and play with his emotions, because that was where he knew he could get really hurt. And this boundary that Dy set forced Fire to figure out what he actually wanted and communicate it clearly.

Which is why we saw Fire change so much as soon as they were together, because in the process of deciding what he wanted from Dynamite, Fire had to make some decisions about who he wanted to be and how he wanted to live. And he chose to embrace his queerness and live a more authentic life. He is a new man in this relationship because he is being himself for the first time ever, and he’s finally breaking free from the weight of his own internalized homophobia. It’s a positive change and one that is clearly making him happy, and part of him must feel grateful to Dy for pushing him into figuring out what he wanted.

But crucially, that is where Dy’s pushing ends. He is utterly unwilling to make any further demands of Fire regarding coming out, to the point that Dy puts his own friendships at risk to hide their relationship and protect Fire until he’s ready. He understands the fear of rejection Fire is still dealing with because he lived it. And he has already proven that he’s up to the task of handling Fire’s mother whenever Fire is ready to face her. These two are still early in their relationship but they have already fallen into a very natural and easy pattern of providing each other emotional support and stability, and we can see them shoring each other up. They make a great pair and theirs is a story that can only exist between queer characters.

I just love that in this show that feels so light on the surface they have made room for such depth in the storytelling. Watching Cooking Crush feels like a warm hug because even though it’s gentle and funny and often silly, there are real emotional struggles to ground us, and the story takes them seriously. We’ve seen this consistently in the main storyline with Ten and Prem, and Fire and Dynamite are no exception.

[sheepishmastectomy]

so i can't sleep and i'm thinking about green arrow (1988) which i'm slowly working through & i wanna talk about dinah lance i'm sure other people have written this essay better and more thoughtfully than i will but the search feature on this site is garbage and all the reddits are down justifiably protesting the api shit so here goes

I can see what the author was initially trying to do, when he had Oliver kidnapped and tortured & Dinah rescued him. This was intended to parallel the traumatic incident Dinah experienced in The Longbow Hunters (which I have not read), which she was recovering from at the start of Green Arrow (1988). This is made obvious by the way Oliver was kidnapped, the attack, Dinah killing to save him (I believe? This was unclear to me), and the utilization of the same therapist. He deals with his trauma mostly in issue 33

However, the writer bungled this plotline in a variety of ways. I'm going to start with what I think is less obvious-- while Oliver deals with the trauma & it is very much about him, ultimately both attacks end up having an immense effect on Dinah. Oliver continues on after all of this goes down and is immediately distracted by being screwed over by the US government and then fucking off on a vision quest for a year. The trauma he experienced isn't allowed to have a lasting effect upon him & is instead transmuted into more trauma inflicted upon Dinah.

The arc that Dinah undergoes here does her a great disservice. I understand the story beats they were hitting here, but having her change her mind regarding having children for the very reasons she gave for not wanting them in the first place is mind-boggling. She goes from 'if you die, you will leave an orphan behind, and that's unacceptable-- we shouldn't have children if we're going to be irresponsible with our lives as vigilantes' to 'if you die, you will not leave an orphan behind, and i'll be so sad and lonely, so i need your child'. I get that Ollie was 'uniquely vulnerable' here, but having her reverse course when they have BOTH had countless life threatening experiences doesn't make any sense.

the way they portray it, too, like ollie's FINALLY getting everything he wanted because he just suffered enough in front of dinah-- like this is some big reward for him. (I hate the doorknob thing that recurs throughout the issue)

And then, OF COURSE, they spin this into a fucking infertility arc. Because they're brave enough to screw with her convictions, but they aren't brave enough to show the follow through-- instead they'll hold up Shado as an example of fertility, or whatever-- the woman who was pregnant and gave birth off screen, where she couldn't be unnattractive. Let alone all of the issues with Shado, who deserves so much better than she's been getting-- did they realize how weird it sounds for this super talented Japanese Archeress to be soooo overcome by sadness that she might have gotten Ollie killed that she just had to fuck him (I'm not dignifying the authors justification that this was sexual assault while Ollie was insensate because that was a cheap tactic deployed to absolve Ollie of guilt and wrongdoing in this instance-- he gets to have 'ninja babies' without having cheated on his girlfriend or even chosen to have sex… okay)

(the loss echoes here... lmao)

(dinah has this conversation outside in her underwear for... some fucking reason? i hate it here)

But transforming the trauma of this whole mess into fucking baby fever really pissed me off. There's been quite a few things the authors haven't handled well, but this was??? Rather than have them really and truly process their mirrored traumas and allow them to grieve in ways authentic to their characters, they twist Dinah into this tired infertile woman plot. It feels needlessly cruel-- she didn't want children but now abruptly she does (because you the author decided this) and then she has that yanked out from under her by an injury she apparently never realized was so serious (again because you the author decided this). It feels like she's being punished for ever daring to want to be childfree and responsible, instead of immediately falling over herself to incubate when her male partner wanted a baby.

I'm not even going to get into how when she was left alone by Ollie for a year after that, she waited for him and didn't date or anything. She finally, FINALLY went on a date with a guy & Ollie showed up right then and she kissed him right there??? They fucked immediately??? It's like she lost everything inside to be the perfect little fucktoy for our male lead. (and her cop boyfriend was secretly evil (read doing the same shit she and oliver do all the time) and also killed himself within days of ollie getting back into town so he wouldn't be in the way lmao)

The author responding to the letter columns spent a lot of time justifying his decisions when the debates occurred on them there, but it feels like he over identified with Oliver and made Dinah into a gratification vehicle above all else. Very frustrating given that she was handled fairly well up to that point??? Guess I should've seen the storm brewing with the Shado writing (once again, she deserves SO much better than she gets)

[jakesealblackhangar]

Jake Seal Black Hangar Explains How Actors Prepare to Embody Their Roles

Acting is an art form that requires more than just memorizing lines. To truly embody a character, actors must immerse themselves in the role, employing various techniques and methods that help them connect with their characters on a deeper level. In this blog, Jake Seal Black Hangar explores the essential preparation methods actors use to bring their characters to life.

Understanding the Character

The first step in an actor's preparation is gaining a thorough understanding of their character. This involves analyzing the character's backstory, motivations, and relationships with other characters in the story. Actors often read the script multiple times, taking notes on key moments and emotional arcs that define their characters.

Additionally, some actors research to learn more about the context in which their character exists. This could involve studying historical events, societal norms, or even specific professions. By understanding the world their character inhabits, actors can make more informed choices about how to portray their role authentically.

Emotional Preparation

Emotional preparation is crucial for actors looking to connect with their characters. Many actors employ various techniques to access and convey the emotions required for their roles. One common method is the use of personal experiences to evoke genuine feelings. Actors may recall specific moments from their own lives that parallel their character's emotional state, allowing them to draw on real emotions.

Another approach is the use of emotional memory techniques, where actors visualize past experiences and channel those feelings into their performance. This deep emotional connection helps create a more authentic portrayal, as the audience can sense the genuine feelings behind the performance.

Physical Transformation

In some cases, actors undergo significant physical transformations to embody their roles fully. This can include changes in appearance, such as weight loss or gain, altering their hairstyle, or even adopting a specific style of dress that reflects their character. For example, an actor might train rigorously to gain the physicality of an athlete or learn specific movement patterns to portray a dancer accurately.

Moreover, physicality extends beyond appearance. Actors also work on their body language and mannerisms to capture the essence of their character. This may involve observing real-life individuals who embody similar traits, allowing actors to integrate those behaviors into their performances.

Voice and Speech

An essential component of an actor's preparation is mastering the character's voice and speech patterns. This can involve accent training, vocal exercises, and studying the character's unique way of speaking. Many actors work with dialect coaches to help them adopt the necessary accent or tone, ensuring that their portrayal feels authentic.

Additionally, Jake Seal Black Hangar Studios emphasizes that understanding the rhythm and pace of a character's speech is vital. Actors analyze their lines to determine where emphasis should be placed and how to convey the intended emotion. This attention to detail allows actors to deliver their lines in a way that resonates with the audience.

Collaboration with Directors and Fellow Actors

Collaboration is key in the acting process. Actors often work closely with directors to refine their performances, receiving feedback that helps them better understand their characters. Directors guide the overall vision of the project, helping actors align their portrayal with the story's themes and messages.

Moreover, building rapport with fellow actors is essential for creating believable interactions on stage or screen. Many actors engage in rehearsals to explore their chemistry with one another, allowing them to develop their characters' relationships organically. This collaborative environment fosters trust and creativity, enhancing the overall performance.

Continuous Growth and Adaptation

Finally, preparation doesn’t stop once filming begins. Actors often find that they must adapt and grow as their understanding of the character deepens throughout the production process. They remain open to feedback and new ideas, allowing their performances to evolve in real time.

In conclusion, preparing to embody a role is multifaceted and deeply personal for each actor. Actors can deliver performances that resonate with audiences by understanding their characters, tapping into emotions, transforming physically, mastering their voice, collaborating with others, and remaining adaptable. Jake Seal Black Hangar emphasizes that this dedication to the craft is what makes acting a compelling art form, capable of moving and inspiring people around the world.

[shezanenigma]

Book Review: The Sleepover

By, Keri Beevis

💎💎💎💎💎

The Sleepover

By, Keri Beevis

💎💎💎💎💎

5 Diamond Read

Keri Beevis' novel "The Sleepover" is a gripping psychological thriller that intertwines suspense, emotion, and the complexities of human relationships. This book captures readers' attention from the first moment and keeps them hooked until the very end, delivering an experience that is as unsettling as it is compelling.

The story is told through several viewpoints, but the main character is Hannah, who is an authentic and compelling person. We understand her thought process and her fierce protective instinct towards her friend Rosie. Hannah, Rosie, and their three other friends suffer a great loss and terrible trauma as children, and now, the past is coming back to haunt them. 

Beevis does a fantastic job of diving into the main characters, allowing us to really get to know and understand them, each with their own secrets and motivations, which adds layers of complexity to the story. Hannah, as the central figure, is particularly well-drawn, her vulnerability and determination making her a relatable and compelling protagonist. Beevis excels at creating a tense and eerie atmosphere, skillfully building suspense through her detailed descriptions and well-paced plot as well as her ability to craft unexpected twists and turns. Just when the reader feels they have a handle on the story, a new revelation is introduced that shifts the narrative in an unexpected direction. This keeps the reader engaged and constantly guessing, ensuring that the novel is difficult to walk away from.

I listened to the audio narration for this book and have to give a 5 Diamond shout out to Imogene Church. Her style brought the story to life, making it even more engaging and immersive. The way she breathes life into the words - I couldn’t stop listening to it. 

Overall, "The Sleepover" is a standout thriller that I wholeheartedly recommend. The combination of a great storyline, immersive narration, and palpable tension makes it a thrilling experience from start to finish. 100% recommended!

[kjdara-side]

Y'know, even if I wouldn't take the route at the end, I completely understand that this fic isn't even really about having a happy ending.

I avoided reading this for so long because Im still recovering from CICYHN, but I can understand why reader chose to do this. We see her forgive him again and again, waiting for him to see that she isn't going to abandon him. It's in her blood to always do good and fight for the good in others, and it's why she kept fighting despite Bucky pushing everything away.

She's a hopeful spirit, no doubt. And we see her hold so much damn confidence and power when we see her confront him, hence the calmness and leaving the ring. She even threatens to kill him, but really we know it's the anger and betrayal talking to not get hurt again. It was like she was guarding her heart but in the same protective way we see her fight for others.

So really, her forgiving him at the end did signify growth. She had the strength to focus on herself and attempt find love elsewhere, even allowing herself to just be friends with Bucky. But the thing it seems like people miss is that she isn't in love with him in the same degree she was before, she knows better now! The only difference it seems is that they both made peace with the demons they were fighting back in the snap. She overcame the pain of all her losses through time, forgiveness, and strength to start over new. And isn't that what we all strive for after grieving? How do we move on from the past if we never allow ourself to restart?

And while we may never recover from this, Reader had a year to grieve and wallow. We only had less than an hour. Healing is not linear in any way, but I do find the beauty in this story is how she chose to heal herself and find courage to find happiness with Bucky. People have their own way of coping and healing, so it isn't bad that she chose Bucky at the end— we need to remember that she went no contact immediately after it happened! It's not like she begged him to love her right after! So she isn't the one to blame, at all.

They're different people now in different circumstances, as stated near the end. It did take me the whole night to process everything, but essentially I had come up with the conclusion that this is the reality of some people's life. If we judge the two of them getting back together at the end, we are missing the entirety of the story in itself. Each scene depicts so much heartbreak, betrayal, vulnerability, morality, and self-reflection. Every scene that follows one another looks to depict her stages of grief, ultimately settling on acceptance at the end—however messy it may look.

I don't know, I may be talkin out of my ass, but I can't bring myself to hate this fic even if I tried. Your writing just encapsulates the authenticity of relationships and love. There is a poetic nature to how you show growth in characters and their attempts to mend themselves into a new person. It hurts yes, but time eventually heals all wounds. We can't hold grudges or continue to live in resentment forever, it hurts no one but ourselves.

Thanks for giving us another beautiful fic. I will always be in awe of your angsty writing because I trust you to fulfill that need I have when I'm feeling masochistic LOL. ❤️

I loved you once B.B

Bucky Barnes x Reader 

Masterlist

Summary: Loving Bucky Barnes was never easy but breaking your heart seemed to come naturally to him. A love story about your heartbreak,his betrayal and a chance at redemption.

19.1 k words

Content Warning: ANGST, heartbreak, cheating, mature themes, +18 SMUT, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT (Pussy job, penetrative sex p in v, sad/angry sex? Rough sex mixed with a little pain. It will make sense once you read it) . Fluff, mentions of bad mental health from both Bucky and reader, graphic violence, character's death, mentions of women trafficking as well as assault.

A/N: Wow 19k words. Im sorry this took so long to finish but as you can tell it is super long as I promised. Buckle up y'all, this is sad. Also this is my first time writing a proper cheating fic so if you can/want let me know if you like it or not. You're welcomed to send me an ask with any comments, questions, etc., you have on this 😊

A/N 2: Regarding asks Also there will be an alternate ending

Post dividers by @firefly-graphics

Now  

"Fuck you," you spat the words.    

Tears fell from your eyes as they made their way down your neck, making dark spots in the collar of your red turtleneck. Even when pain was drowning you, beauty never left you. Bucky felt as if he were watching a beautiful Renaissance painting—a tragedy of sorts.   

"Is that all? I really don’t have time for this."   

He didn’t recognize his own words or the indifference they came out with. He didn’t mean to say them, but it was as if his own body was working on autopilot, and he was only a spectator to the shitshow it was causing. He wanted to stop. He wanted to apologize. He wanted to say so many things, but the only thing he was capable of was hurting you.   

"Are you kidding me? That’s all you’re going to say?"   

"What else do you want me to say? You know what happened, you saw her with your own eyes. Anything I say is either going to make you angrier or make you cry even more. Let’s just be done with this, you’ll eventually get over it."   

The sound of your hand connecting with his face put an end to his sentence. The hit didn’t feel as such, his skin barely processed it as anything more than a simple graze, but once the initial shock wore off, the sting came along. But it didn’t compare to the pain he felt in his heart when his eyes connected with yours once again.   

"I always knew you were capable of many things, but not once did I think you would ever be this cruel."   

Your eyes drifted to your hands, your right hand playing with the ring you wore in your left. A sigh left your lips, and more tears fell before you finally slid it off your finger, placing it on the table next to you.   

A bucket of iced water. Painful, burning, scorching coldness— that’s how Bucky would describe looking at you while silently breaking your engagement. His mind was telling him to get on his knees, beg, and try to fix everything he had broken. But the darkest part of him, the one that had taken over his life was assuring him you were bluffing. You couldn’t leave, you always stayed. You always fought for him, even when he didn’t deserve it.   

"What are you doing?" he asked, his eyes rolling with the uninterested façade he had perfected.   

"I’m done, I can’t keep doing this anymore." You turned your back, strong and determined steps leading to his apartment door.  

Please, fix this.   

His trembling hands made their way to your wrist, anything that could mend the cracks in your heart that seeped with pain, the cracks he had caused with his own selfishness. Before his fingers could even graze your skin, your hand quickly swatted away his pathetic effort to stop you.  

"God, stop being so goddamed drama—"   

"Don’t fucking touch me."   

"Don’t try to contact me ever again, I won’t answer."   

"Can you just—"   

"If I ever see you again I swear I’ll murder you. I didn’t kill you the first time we met but I swear I’ll do it if you even dare to breath in my direction."   

Your words hurt, it seemed as though each one stabbed him right through the chest in a taunting way, a reminder of how much he had screwed up. Bile rose to his throat when you recoiled at his proximity, and the hate in your eyes burned him with such force that he was sure you wouldn't wait until the next time you met.   

He deserved it either way.  

Bucky's eyes opened just as the car jolted, his heart racing against his chest, his ears buzzing. For a fraction of a second, he's confused, not remembering why he was in the car, but the fogginess of his thoughts was replaced with anxiety when he heard the tracker beeping on Sam's thigh. 

"Good, you’re awake. I think we’re almost there." Sam kept his eyes on the road, occasionally glancing down at the device that told him where to go. Judging by his demeanor, his friend didn’t seem as nervous as he did, if at all. It wasn’t like Sam had a reason to, he was the only one who had fucked up.  

He looked out at the vehicle, and the passing trees in the darkness of the night numbed his mind while he tried to forget about his dream. No, it wasn’t a dream, it was his worst memory to date. Usually, his nightmares were about the crimes he had committed while being the Winter Soldier, and he could blame them on his consciousness not being there with him. His own body didn’t belong to him, so he couldn’t keep blaming himself for the things HYDRA had forced him to do.  

With you, on the other hand, he could not blame anyone else but himself. His mind wasn’t tortured by a secret organization in hopes of ruining his relationship, nor was he forced to hurt the person about whom he cared the most to save thousands of lives. He did it all by himself, and now the nightmares have not only scared him but hurt him all over again.  

You started to show up in his dreams more frequently once Sam told him they needed your help. As expected, the super-soldier's first reaction was total and complete refusal. His friend thought it was a childish reaction the former winter soldier was having to avoid the awkwardness of meeting you again, only knowing your relationship had ended on bad terms without hearing the specifics. But the blue-eyed man wasn’t doing it for himself, he was doing it for you. The night you left, you made it clear you didn’t want anything to do with him, or even anything related to him, your resignation from the Avengers Team and subsequent evaporation from the face of the earth was a strong message to leave you alone.  

After a few hours of arguing, with both men going back and forth on why they did or didn't need you, Bucky finally agreed to go look for you. Lives were at stake, and no matter how hard he tried to look for a solution that avoided you, there seemed to be none. Before he could ask where to even start looking for you, Sam pulled out a device that seemed familiar to a phone. You had given Sam, and only Sam, a tracker that could find you anywhere in the world and could only be unlocked by a password you had whispered to him  

The depth of his tormenting cycle of thoughts didn’t let him register they weren’t on the road anymore until his partner stopped the vehicle. They were surrounded by tall, dense trees, and the crickets and cicadas that hid in the dark made an orchestra that filled the emptiness of the night. Sam grabbed his gear, the sound of a duffle bag being opened broke the rhythm of nature.  

"Why are we stopping here?" Bucky asked with a frown. His own duffle was placed across his back, the tinkering of the metal inside it annoying him slightly.  

His friend threw an annoyed look at him before rolling his eyes and scrambling through his belongings. "As I said like twenty minutes ago while you were brooding and having your own pity party, this thing shows her inside a building in the middle of the woods. I’d like to take a look around the area before going in blind."  

"Oh."  

Normally, the super soldier would’ve had a comeback for the annoying yet harmless insults his friend and partner would throw at him, even a snide comment. But this was different, no matter what Sam would say, he could only think of what was about to happen. So he let it slide, submerging himself in his own thoughts while Sam threw the little flying robot he nicknamed "Red Wing" into the air. Once it was hovering above them and Sam made sure to have full control of it, they began a walk that would last about thirty minutes before the device would find any signs of life.  

Sam and him were waiting somewhere near the alleged building, Sam's robot scanning the surroundings.The thumping in his chest returned, and his fingers became ice cold.He was so close. Close enough to see you, close enough to talk to you, and perhaps close enough to apologize. 

How would you react to seeing him? Would you be happy to see him? Probably not, considering the last thing you said to him was that you would kill him if he ever came near you. He knew he deserved it, but hopefully time changed your murderous resolution. Maybe even forgave him.  

Could you ever forgive him?  

A slight swat from Sam brought him back from his thoughts, silently letting him know they were ready to go. Bucky could sense it before the place was even visible, the vibrations of the music resonating through the ground. The smell of smoke, alcohol, and humanity reached his nostrils right as they saw the line of cars parked in a plain field next to what resembled a warehouse.  

To an untrained eye, it would look like a normal, unsanitary, and probably unsafe rave done by stupid people. But the polarized windows of the cars, the shine coming from the inside of the guards' jackets, and the lot of security cameras installed in the building told another story. Whatever or whoever was in there was dangerous, and as usual, you had gotten yourself in the middle of it.  

Bucky wasn’t an idiot. He knew you couldn’t stay away from helping people, no matter how hard you tried. He saw the breadcrumbs, microscopic, little clues that he could recognize as your style. A missing girl suddenly returning to her family, a kidnapped journalist in the middle of war returning to their respective embassy. A child trafficker falling from his hotel room in the twentieth floor. You had always been... effective when it came to missions, sometimes going overboard with your methods, but Tony, Steve, and himself had always guided you towards the good and righteous path that a person with your abilities was supposed to take. 

You lost all three of them in the span of a year.  

They were lucky that it was relatively easy to get inside, and even luckier that their clothes didn't draw too much attention to them. Sure, they seemed to be wearing more clothes than needed, as most people seemed to enjoy themselves topless and/or pantless, but with the darkness of the room barely being lit by the flashing blue and red lights, no one really noticed them.  

Guys, girls, and people he wasn’t sure how to label were grinding against each other. Hands touched him, pulling his jacket, and he had to push them all away, trying to make his way through the sea of people. The inside of the warehouse could pass for a functioning club, with couches, dance floors, and screens accommodating everyone inside.  

Bucky wasn’t sure he had ever seen anything like this; the debauchery that people showed shocked his old-fashioned ways. He was sure he had seen several people inside each other, whether it was fingers, tongues, or dicks, no one seemed to mind that everyone else could see them. How had you gotten yourself into the middle of this disguised orgy? What were you even doing here?  

Both men made their way to the front of the place, where a private section was installed looking over the dancefloor. Two large guys guarded the stairs that connected the lower and upper levels, allowing mostly attractive girls to ascend. Both men agreed that if you were to be found somewhere, it would undoubtedly be there. They scanned the room, looking for any way they could access the VIP level without having a pair of tits and long legs.  

He had never understood scenes in movies where they showed time slowing down. Every time he had been in a fight, whether it was as himself in the forties or as the winter soldier, everything seemed to happen too fast to process. Even the night you left, time had seemed to go at an abnormally fast pace, and by the time he could finally react the way he wanted, it had been too late.  

He never understood those scenes until he saw you walking to the protective railing surrounding the edge of the private section. Above the deafening music, the moans, and the music, he could hear your voice talking to someone else.  

It was as if he was seeing you for the first time. Your beauty had remained the same your hair, your eyes, and your lips all looked the same, yet his heart started racing just as it did all those years ago. You weren’t dressed like everyone else dancing around him, your black dress with a dangerous deep cleavage was sensuous, but it held a certain level of class that made you stand out from the crowd.  

Thump, thump, thump.  

Time moved at a slow pace, the slowest he had experienced. He was grateful for it, as it allowed him to appreciate every detail from you. The way your lips came close to the drink you had in your hand, the drumming your fingers did on top of the railing, the glint in your eyes—he knew it meant you were lost in your thoughts.   

Bucky had never been more grateful for the way time passed. Until he saw a pair of hands sliding across your waist, fingers gripping your hips so roughly, he was sure they would leave a mark on your skin. A semi-attractive man whispered words in your ear, his beard scruffing against your skin. You smirked, turning around to plaster your lips against his in a kiss that could make a pornstar blush.  

He knew you'd moved on; nearly a year had passed since the last time he saw you, and you'd probably found someone to sleep with, but he wasn't ready to watch you become someone else's. His mind was prepared to face your happiness, but his heart wasn’t. And even now, he was sure you were just tagging along with the man, using him for information for whatever mission you had gotten yourself into, yet he felt as if what remained of his heart had been ripped out of his chest.  

With strong, rough movements, the man turned you around, pressing your body against the railing. As his hand grabbed your neck, your hips grinded against his, your mouth open as you licked your lips. 

The super soldier couldn’t take it anymore, his heart begged him to stop the torture. He wasn’t even sure where Sam was, nor did he care. He cared about you, and he could only think about what he had lost. With the last of his dignity, he began to look away from you and your companion, who had leaned over to your ear once more. Except this time his eyes found Bucky’s, his fingers tightening around your neck.  

He knew. Somehow the man knew who he was and, most importantly, who you were.  

Your eyes widen slightly, searching through the sea of people dancing downstairs. But it didn't take you long to find those blue eyes you once adored. He was there, looking exactly the same as the night you left him, along with your heart.  

"I know who you are." The man whispered in your ear—a threat not so subtly hidden behind every word.  

But you couldn’t dwell long on his words because ice-cold eyes looked back at you. Ice cold eyes brought back the pain you thought you left behind, and the rage surfaced once more as you remembered the promises you made him.  

Cold metal was pressed against your neck, the edge of it grazing your skin. Bucky’s eyes widened in alarm, and his hands turned into fists, making him look like he cared. Like he actually had a heart.  

He barely took two steps in your direction when the wicked smile you wore stopped him. It was sinister. It was deadly. And when you turned to the man to say something, his grip faltered as one word left your lips.  

"Good"  

Your head connected against the man’s nose, a crack let you know it was most likely broken. You barely heard the man’s yells when bullets made their way to you, a couple of them grazing your skin. The room that was once filled with hips swaying, alcohol, and moans had transformed into a frenzy of screams and people running to get out of the building.  

The crowd tried to take Bucky away; their desperate attempts at escaping dragged him away as he fought his way through the sea of people. Seconds passed, and he could hear your grunts as well as more shooting coming from the upper floor, with girls running down the stairs, some of them with splashes of blood staining their clothes.  

He didn’t know whose blood it belonged to, and that frightened him.  

Sam’s voice pulled him out of his trance. "What the hell happened?"  

His friend had managed to make his way to him, both of them still getting pushed around. Bucky offered him a quick glance before resuming his previous task of making his way to the stairs.  

"Her cover is blown," was all the explanation Bucky offered, and somehow it was enough. Before any of them could add anything, screams came from the front door, three bulky men were making their way there while carrying very large and dangerous guns. "Take care of them, I’ll go help her," the super soldier said without leaving any room for discussion.  

When his fingers finally grabbed the banister of the stairs, Bucky was close to losing his mind. Climbing two steps at a time, he finally found himself a scene that froze him in the spot.  

You were there, your black dress ripped in some places, your makeup ruined by mascara running down your cheeks, and blood splashes tainted your flawless skin. Bucky had managed to get there just in time as you twisted a man's arm to an unnatural angle, the crack of his joint popping out of place was followed by his screams. You had managed to kill/knock out everyone except for the guy who had previously had a knife to your throat, and Bucky knew better than to think that was just a mere coincidence.  

After the last man fell to the ground, blood sputtering out of his neck, you lifted your gaze towards him. He couldn’t read you as easily as he had once been able to and he hated it. Before, he was sure he knew you better than you knew yourself, more than once already sure of your likes and dislikes before you asked him for an opinion. He had treasured those times in his mind, and the memories were as comforting as they were painful. A constant reminder of what he had lost.  

He was right there, right in front of you. The man you fell in love with when you still had a heart. The man who still had a tight grip on it and who would probably always own it. He could keep it for all you cared, your heart was tainted with memories you didn’t wish to keep.  

It was the first time both of you were this close, every scream gone as you were absorbed by your own bubble. He looked so familiar that your own body reacted the way it used to whenever you saw him. Your heart stammered in your chest, and even after so long, the butterflies in your stomach appeared for a millisecond. He was the man you had once loved, he was the man with whom you imagined a future together.  

Then, you remembered why all your hopes and dreams had been destroyed.  

Bucky noticed the hurt flashing through your face, your jaw tightening right before you made your way to him. For a moment, he thought you were about to hug him, your desperation to reach him in your long strides mirroring his as his body begged him to touch you. He wanted to apologize, beg for forgiveness at your feet, and profess the love that he wasn’t able to forget.  

Perhaps if his mind hadn't been plagued with all the things he wanted to do, he would’ve noticed your foot rising to give him a solid kick on the chest.  

The force and unexpectedness of your attack launched him back to the railing, throwing him over it. His back landed with a loud thud on the floor, fortunate enough for him, everyone else seemed to have dissipated and his fall wasn’t that high up. A second later, you jumped from the banister, landing on top of him with your knife in hand. Your knee found it’s place on his chest, feet pressing his hands flat on the surface. Before Bucky could even muster a word, the blade was pinned against his throat.  

"I told you if I ever saw you again, I would fucking kill you." 

Then  

Steve had changed so much in the years they had spent apart. His friend, who had once been the fragile little Brooklyn boy he would protect with his life, was now a fully grown man with a strength that could crush a person if he wasn’t careful enough. He was also now his protector, not from bullies that would harass him because of his own stubbornness but from a secret organization that wanted to take over the world. That and his own fractured mind.  

He had lost control once the man had given him the commands to bring back the deadly assassin they had turned him into. He remembered it all, but it had felt as if he was under water the whole time, falling deeper and deeper the more he tried to fight against it. His own body didn’t belong to him, no matter how hard he tried to control it.  

For a year, he had thought it was possible to lead a normal life; his time spent in Romania had given him false hope that he had gotten away from his captors. How foolish he had been, thinking he could ever be far away from his grasps. He wasn’t the man he was before, just a weapon designed to hurt people.  

He supposed he was lucky Steve still saw good in him, at least enough to turn against his teammates and friends to help him clear his name. And now, as they drove to one of Steve’s friends' hideouts, he couldn’t help but feel guilty about everything that was going on. If he hadn’t lost control, Steve wouldn't be a wanted criminal. If he wasn’t captured, a shit ton of innocent, good people would still be alive. If his mind had been stronger, he could’ve broken free of HYDRA's mind control.  

Maybe it would’ve been better if he had actually died when he fell from that train.  

Steve parked outside an abandoned apartment complex, it seemed no one had lived there in years. He threw a questioning eyebrow at Sam, who just shrugged before getting out of the vehicle. Another of Steve’s friends had decided to help him out of loyalty to Steve, not because he particularly liked Bucky or entirely believed in his good side.  

All three men walked inside the building, not a sound inside other than their footsteps and heavy breathing. Steve looked around for a couple of seconds before making his way to the second floor, his intuition telling him where to go. He stood in front of a door with a big C plastered on it, his friend's hand hesitating before knocking on the wood.  

After the third knock came back without an answer, Steve decided to open the door. He had called a name while crossing the threshold, looking around for any signs of life inside the apartment. Bucky was surprised to find the apartment filled with computers, blueprints, documents, and lots of military-grade equipment. Everything gave away the signs of someone working there, yet there was no one who took ownership over them.  

It was too late when Bucky heard you standing behind him, with his feet being swept by your leg and effectively knocking him down. The wooden floor amplified the echo of his fall, catching Steve and Sam’s attention. Your frame landed on top of his, gun aimed directly between his eyes.Bucky's hand reached to grab your ankle in an effort to destabilize you, but the barrel of your weapon was pressed right on his forehead.  

"I wouldn’t do it if I were you," you said coolly. "I promise you, I’ll blow your brains out before you can even land a hit."  

After your words filled the room, Bucky’s eyes finally took their chance to look at you, actually look at you.  

God, you were beautiful.  

Maybe it was only your physical beauty that had taken him by surprise, or the fact that you had taken him down so easily with just one leg movement. Or even the fact that you seemed to have no fear towards a man who was being marketed as a "dangerous and armed terrorist." Whatever it was, Bucky couldn’t deny the fact that you were the most beautiful human being he had seen.  

After a few explanations from Steve’s part and some begging for help, you released the super soldier from your hold, weapon holstered in your back. Your hand extended to help him get off the floor, and you offered him a charming but wary smile.   

You told the three men to make themselves at home and take anything they needed. Bucky had chosen to keep guard, being by himself in the top floor while looking out through a window that hid him from everyone else. He was stewing in his own complicated thoughts when he heard a knock on the wall. You were there, standing a few feet away from him with a shy smile on your face as you extended to him a cup filled with hot coffee.  

Thump, thump, thump.  

"Sorry about the whole thing holding you hostage," you said as he welcomed the cup.  

His fingers accidentally grazed against your own, and it was as if he had touched electricity itself. Heat extended from his hands all through his body, and his ability to think was thrown out of the window. He looked at you, and he couldn’t tell if you felt the same or not, but he could feel how your eyes burned him, with a curiosity behind them that was so easy to read that he was surprised you were the black ops/spy Sam had told him.  

"It’s whatever, I would’ve done the same thing if I were you." Bucky answered after a few seconds.  

He turned to look through the window again, trying to keep his thoughts in order. You settled down next to him, the warmth of your skin reaching his own. Nothing could be heard other than your breathings, not even the cars outside or the sound of the busy city that hid you. And for the first time in a long time, Bucky felt relaxed with someone he didn’t know from the past.  

"I’m James."  

He could’ve sworn he heard you smile before you gave him your name. 

Now  

"What the fuck are you doing here, Barnes?"  

The music was still on, as were the blue and red lights that lighted up the darkness in the room. Bucky could feel the breeze of your breath on his face and the smell of expensive whisky and tobacco in every word you said. He wasn’t surprised, the man that you knocked out probably tried to impress you with them.  

But behind the traces of blood, alcohol, and gunpowder, he could smell your shampoo. The same peony smell mixed with lavander filled his nostrils, and it brought him back to the many nights you had spent together. Your fingers were drawing circles on the skin of his back, and his nose was buried in your hair.  

You, on the other hand, were reminded of the suffering he caused you with every passing second.  

"I told you to stay away from me," you muttered.  

Your hand pressed the edge of the blade on his skin, and you were sure if you kept going you were going to start drawing out blood, but you couldn’t care less. Bucky Barnes had always been an expert at instilling unwanted emotions in you, and it was difficult to keep those emotions at bay right now. 

You felt anger. You felt resentment. You felt pure, long-lasting hatred.  

"Maybe I should slit your throat right now, that’ll make you stay away from me permanently."  

Your words were intimidating, filled with the same promise you had made him that fateful night. This was his chance, his chance at the apology that had died out in his throat when you closed the door behind him. This was the chance he had chased in his dreams for almost a year.  

But he couldn’t say anything.  

He loved you. God, he loved you so much. He missed seeing your face other than in the few pictures he kept or in the memories that did no justice. Because even now, as you threatened to kill him, you were a dream come true, just like the first time he saw you. 

"Say something!"  

"You’re beautiful."  

Your grip faltered on the knife, your eyebrows slightly furrowing at his words.  

No, he couldn’t do this. He couldn’t come back out of nowhere, say some cheesy, basic compliment, and make the walls of hate you had built crumble. Even if he had only managed to knock down one brick, he didn't deserve it. You knew it, he knew it, and everyone else who knew what happened between you two knew it.  

Then why did your heart flutter at his words?  

"Hey," Sam said, breaking the silence, your head snapping in his direction."I know he’s an asshole, but I would appreciate it if you didn’t kill my partner."  

You look back at Bucky for a few seconds before giving up, throwing your knife to the floor. Sam leaned over, his hand extended to help Bucky get up.Your murderous eyes went from Bucky to Sams, your gaze softening at his friend.  

"I told you to only contact me in emergencies," you grumbled.  

A hiss left your lips when you touched your arm, one of the bullet wounds was still seeping blood. Bucky thought about telling you something, but this time he listened to the rational part of his brain that told him to shut the fuck up.  

"Believe me, if we had a choice, we wouldn’t have come," Sam said.  

Your eyes flickered between both men, not convinced about helping them. Well, on helping the blue eyed super soldier. A pathetic excuse for why you couldn’t help them died on your lips once you saw his blue eyes. Please, help us they begged.  

You didn’t owe him anything. You shouldn’t help him, but in the back of your head, Steve’s voice rang through. Good ol’ Steve Rogers and his everlasting moral lessons. That's what we have to do, he said. 

So you put aside your feelings because helping people mattered more than an idiot who broke your heart.  

"What do you want?" You sighed.  

"We’re looking into something... odd. A bunch of pregnant women missing, still in their early stages of pregnancy. Most of them show up dead after giving birth, but the babies are nowhere to be found."  

You shrug. "They take the kids, so?"  

It was cold, you were aware of it. But after the things you had seen, the things you had done, you were aware that people kidnapping woman for their babies wasn’t something out of the ordinary, let alone something that required Captain America to look into it. Things like that were always forgotten, pushed back into a slew of cases alongside more missing women. 

"They had traces of the super serum."  

Fuck.  

You laughed. A joyless, cynical type of laugh. Destiny, of course, had to be a jerk. 

"Well, you’re in luck. I think we’re tracking down the same people." Sam raised an eyebrow at you with a simple request for you to elaborate. "A girl showed up dead in México a couple of months ago, she’d been missing for almost a year. Autopsy showed she had a miscarriage before dying, the bleeding killed her. The remains had traces of the serum too."  

"Are you saying that—?" Sam couldn’t finish his sentence, the thought sending chills along his spine.  

"Yeah."  

The air is somber between the three of you. Sure, the flag smashers were a problem when they appeared, as you knew from all the news reports you'd seen.People with ten times the strength of a normal human being were dangerous, especially if they were associated with a terrorist organization. 

This was different, though. This was sinister.  

Groans coming from the top floor broke the eeriness that surrounded you, making you finally remember why you were here. You tore apart part of the black dress that was once pristine and wrapped it around your arm.  

"Look at this guy over there," you said, motioning behind you. "He has intel on this, he’s the one that gets the girls and delivers them."  

"Well, let’s take him in and—"  

You cut Sam off. "No. Look, you came looking for me because this is my specialty. I know how to handle guys like him, and I sure as hell know he won’t tell us shit if we take him to a precinct and threaten him with some jail time. He’s a big fish. A few phone calls and he’ll be out in no time." They knew you were right, but they didn’t like your arguments. "We do this my way, or you better pray you find them before I do."  

Sam looked hesitant. He knew what you were going to do to the man, and his good conscience chastised him for even thinking of letting you torture someone. But the rational part, the part that knew that in this case there wasn’t much of an option, knew that they needed you, and perhaps you also needed them.  

"Just, don’t kill him." Sam said before walking away.  

Compromise. You could do compromise.  

"Fine," you said, rolling your eyes. 

After Sam slammed the door shut on his way out, you were reminded of the fact that you weren't alone. Bucky’s eyes were already looking at you, the same apologetic eyes you had seen before you kicked him in the chest.  

"Thanks for helping us." He spoke, thinking it was an appropriate way to break the ice, but it only managed to make you scoff.  

"Let’s make something clear, I’m not doing this for you." you spat. "I’m doing this because Sam needs my help and so we can save those innocent girls and stop any more from being taken. This doesn’t change anything between us, as soon as this is over, you go back to leaving me the fuck alone, got it?"  

Say something. Fight for her. Explain what happened, his mind begged him.  

But he couldn’t, because even if it had been almost a year since he last saw you, he was still the same coward who let you walk away without a fight.  

So he agreed.  

"Yeah."  

"Good. I’ll meet you outside." 

Then  

"Thanks for the coffee." Bucky said before taking a sip.  

Droplets of water fell from his forehead, a strand of unruly black hair was hanging on the side of his eyebrows. The towel that hung from his waist, showing his torso all the way down to that sculpted V of his abdomen, made it too difficult to concentrate on the files you were trying to organize.  

The man was hotter than the sun.  

"No problem." you smiled at him.   

You had no idea it would be the best and worst decision you'd ever made when you suggested Bucky stay with you while Steve went to rescue the others.You liked Bucky, and the few days you spent with him while Steve and the others gathered everything they needed so they could go find Zemo had been nice. Sure, he was a man of a few words, but it didn’t bother you. It was weirdly comforting to be able to enjoy someone’s company in silence. And the times he spoke, he did it out of pure curiosity, curiosity about the world, about what had happened while he was in the ice, but mostly about you.  

He asked about your cases, how you met Steve, and how you came to partner with some of the most powerful people in the world. He asked about your life, about your childhood in the orphanage, and what made you choose to help people. He asked so many questions, yet he still respected you when you didn’t want to answer some of them. He asked, not to pry, but to get to know you, and in return, when you asked him something, he was as honest as he felt comfortable being.  

And that was the problem. No matter how much you tried, you knew your days with Bucky Barnes were numbered. Ever since you were young, you knew that being in this line of work would prevent you from having a normal life. You couldn't have a normal relationship. You weren’t meant to have the love story your favorite movies portraited, the white picket fence and the family of five wasn’t in your future.  

Neither was he, maybe in the forties he would’ve came home from war and found himself a pretty girl to marry. But now, after everything he had seen and everything he had unwillingly done, he probably wouldn't want a relationship any time soon. Or maybe not at all.  

But after three weeks of being cramped up in the same little apartment, you were getting used to him. You had developed a little routine together that always ended up with a cup of coffee at the end of the day. Sometimes both of you would just sit in silence, taking in each other's company while you sipped on your cups. Other times, just like now, he would sit next to you as you watched whatever movie you had decided to put on.  

You had to cut this at the root before it became too hard to let go.  

"So, you’re going to Wakanda?"  

He sighs. "Yeah. Steve says they have someone that might be able to help with... help with my..."  

"I know." You finished for him, suddenly placing your hand on top of his. He tensed at your touch, both of you looking down at your hands before you took away yours, embarrassed at your own lack of control. "Well, if you’re not too busy there, I could go visit you sometimes."  

"You would?" he questioned.  

"If you want me, too," you shrugged, trying not to reveal your excitement. 

He looked at you, his thoughts unreadable through his face. For a moment, you thought he was going to reject your offer, but something changed in his eyes. He smiled, the faintest, littlest hint of a smile you had seen, but it was there.  

You made him smile for the first time.  

"Yeah. I’d like that."  

If someone were to ask Bucky when he first felt he could love you, it would be right now. With the dim light of the TV lighting up your face and a shy smile on your lips as you told him you were willing to travel such a long distance just to see him.  

And as you lay next to him, your head against his shoulder, you thought to yourself that maybe you could be selfish for once and allow yourself to enjoy his company a bit more. 

Now  

There were drops of water leaking out of a pipe, he could hear them from the other side of the room. Everything around him was dark, it seemed the only source of light was on top of him and the woman on the floor pleading for her life.   

"Please don’t do this," she begged with a Spanish accent. "I don’t want to die, please."   

He wanted to move, he wanted to throw away the gun in his hand, but it was like he was a spectator of his own life. His body was not his, or his breathing. Not even his heartbeat listened to the inner panic attack he was having. Nothing belonged to him.   

"Kill her," a distorted voice told him. His eyes glanced at him quickly, and he noticed the man had no face. No one around them had one.   

Everything felt like it was in slow motion. His finger moved, pressing the trigger of the gun, but he refused to give up. He had to try, even if his own consciousness was trying to kick him out, sucking him into the pool of darkness he had been resting in for a long time.   

But even if he tried for years, he couldn’t win. He was powerless.   

Broken.   

He could only witness how the other "him" obeyed. The woman's eyes changed from scared to lifeless in less than a second. A splash of crimson staining his combat boots kept his attention. He couldn’t hear what the other people in the room were saying, he didn’t exist anymore, or he didn’t want to. The sound of the water leak was deafening now. Growing louder and louder until it consumed everything around him   

He didn’t want to be awake. Not like this.   

And as he felt himself disappearing, he hoped this was the last time he came back to the surface. He would rather be surrounded by emptiness.   

Yet something interrupted him, pulling him back up.   

A woman's voice, so familiar it made his heartbeat change.   

"Bucky!"  

Bucky's eyes opened wide. His head was spinning, his breathing was rapid, and his heart felt like it was going to burst through his chest. The adrenaline in his system made him dizzy, and he could feel his hands shaking. And he was feeling. A lot. Scared, angry, hopeless. So many emotions constricted his chest, burying him under their weight.  

"Bucky," you repeated. His head snapped at you, showing you a pair of wide, terrified eyes.  

Your feet almost moved. A pure protective instinct filled you with dread at the fact that you couldn’t help him anymore. Your head and your heart were in conflict. In one hand your heart begged you to go to him, stroke his back as you peppered kisses along his shoulder. Then you would lie back in bed while your hands surrounded his body, your front pressed to his back in a way to say, I’m here, I love you, and everything will be alright.  

On the other hand, your brain told you to turn in the other direction. Walk away from the night terrors that plagued his mind and let him suffer in silence. He wasn't your responsibility anymore, and you shouldn't be concerned about helping him with whatever was wrong with him. 

Was it possible to hate and care about someone at the same time?  

"Nightmares?" you couldn’t help yourself from asking. 

His left hand rubbed his eyes, a sigh leaving his lips. "Yeah. Sorry if I woke you up."  

"You didn’t."  

You sat at the table in front of the couch he was lying on, a steaming cup of lavender tea between your hands. The cling of the spoon clashing against the ceramic filled the uncomfortable silence between you.  

"Where’s Sam?" he asked, sitting straight as a couple of droplets of sweat fell down his forehead.  

"He has a contact in the city. He left to meet them."  

"Oh."  

Whatever else he was about to say died on his lips. You noticed he seemed to do that often since meeting again, his eyes speaking the words he would never say. Sometimes you would catch him looking at you, the frown on his forehead deepening with the passing of time. It made you wonder if he would now be open to answering your questions.  

"He said you’re going to therapy."  

He was taken aback by your question. It probably was the first time you said more than the necessary to him. Also, it was the first time that you showed any sort of interest in his life.  

"Uh, yeah. Court mandated."  

You hummed, sipping on your tea.  

"Does it work?"  

You saw the hesitance in his eyes. The way his jaw clenched and his grip on the couch made his knuckles white made you think he was about to change the subject with a witty, bitter, or sarcastic remark, or maybe even just ignore the question at all. You wouldn’t be surprised if he did, by the end of your relationship, he was an expert in it.  

Bucky didn’t change much after all, you thought to yourself  

But he broke the silence.  

"In some ways." he started, his gaze dropping to the floor. "The nightmares don’t come as often anymore, and I don’t feel the need to shoot every asshole that drives a shitty car with a shitty exhaust pipe." You chuckled at his confession, making a slight smirk show on his face. "But she’s too much."  

"What do you mean?"  

He sighed. "She pisses me off. I hate that she keeps trying to make me feel better by just saying my life is better now and I shouldn’t feel like shit anymore. But it’s not that easy. Just like it’s not easy to follow the stupid set of rules she gave me."  

He looked up to see your reaction to his words, expecting to see the same hardened look you’ve given him the past couple of weeks. And it was just that what greeted his eyes, your lips slightly pressed together and your eyes decorated with a slight scowl that only showed up for him.  

But behind the tough exterior, he could see your eyes had softened. For a brief second, your eyes showed care and understanding to what he siad before going back to the usual void stare you gave him.  

"She sounds like a bad therapist." He shrugged in agreement, he couldn’t say anything against the truth. "She also sounds like a bitch."  

He laughed. The type of laugh that caught him off guard and made his lungs run out of air. Granted, your joke might’ve not been as funny as his laugh was giving it credit for, but he had always been fond of your bluntness.  

You couldn’t help but laugh with him too.  

Laughing with Bucky felt foreign yet so familiar at the same time. It felt like reminiscing on a memory you didn’t remember you had, a bittersweet memory that brought back the same good feeling of the memories you built together  

But moments like that couldn’t last forever. Your heart couldn’t afford to remember.  

A text message from Sam lit up your screen, saying his contact had useful information. You stood up from the table after texting him back and drank the rest of the cup's contents. 

"You should try to get some sleep, we have a long day ahead."  

His shoulders dropped slightly.  

"Yeah, you’re right. I’ll try to."  

With nothing left to say, you walked away, leaving Bucky in the loneliness of the night.   

You didn’t go right away to the room you had adopted as your own, though. He heard you going through the kitchen, a dim sound of clinking and pouring reaching him due to his enhanced hearing. He didn't think anything of it; maybe you needed more tea before going to bed. 

Your steps brought you back to him before you placed an object on the coffee table right beside him.  

A cup of lavender tea. 

Then  

"It’s kinda late to be outside, huh?"  

Bucky jolted at the sound of your voice, your presence taking him by surprise. He was completely sure that when he left a couple of hours ago his house was empty and you hadn’t sent a message of your arrival.   

Something had happened? Was someone injured? Were you in trouble?  

His questions died on his lips as you cut the space between you and him short, your arms tightly embracing him. Your head found its place in the crook of his neck, his long hair falling on your face. His hands took a second to respond, but they eventually wrapped around your waist, bringing you closer to his chest.  

You stayed like that for what felt like ages, just taking in each other's warmth. He missed you, even if he tried to deny it every time his thoughts would wander to you. He tried to convince himself that his reclusion made him miss everyone he considered a friend, and in a world where everyone seemed to want him dead, you were one of the few people he trusted.  

He had been staying in Wakanda for nearly six months, and out of those six months, you had visited him at least once every month. The duration of your trip would vary, sometimes you would stay only a few hours, with most of your time spent in his hut while sharing stories of the outside and his progress. Other times, you'd stay for days, with the longest stay being a week and a half. In those cases, he would show you the surroundings, the forest that surrounded the back of his hut or take you on a long walk alongside the river that crossed his home. Sometimes you'd sit outside and stare at the stars, your only company being the animals and the flora. 

He also came to hate every time you would leave, feeling like a part of himself was leaving with you.  

One of his hands landed on the side of your hips, the other searching for your face.Your grip on him grew tighter once his fingers brushed the skin on your face but you eventually let go, allowing his hand to guide you slightly away from him.  

"What happened?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.  

You didn’t respond, but one look into your eyes, and he knew the answer. Whatever it was, it had affected you to the core, the broken look in your eyes could only be compared to the one he saw every time he looked at his reflection in the mirror.  

His forehead rested on yours, both your eyes closing at the contact.  

"It’s ok. I got you."  

His hand found yours as he guided you toward his bed. It wasn’t until then that he noticed you still had your tactical gear on, dirt and crystals still hiding in some places. He grabbed the buckle of your vest, his eyes asking for permission to get it off. A slight nod gave him the confirmation, beginning the process of somewhat freeing you of the events you had seen. He got rid of his own garments too, leaving you both standing in front of yourselves with only underwear covering you. He dragged you into bed, your frames covered by the light white sheets on his bed. 

Not many times had he allowed himself to think of you in a sexual manner, knowing how his body would react in a lustful way. But as he found himself looking at you with barely any clothes on, the desire was left on the back burner of his brain. You needed him. You needed his comfort, and he was more than willing to give it to you.  

He would give you anything you asked for.  

His hand rested on your face, tracing circles across your cheek, your eyes closed at the soothing action.  

"I’m sorry." Your voice trembled. He could see you wanted to say more, but words failed to come out of your mouth  

Bucky’s heart ached. He had never seen you in such a vulnerable state, and his mind was going cray at the thought of not being able to do anything to help you.  

"It’s ok, sunshine. You don’t have to talk about it."  

So you lay there, head against his chest, as he kept you between his arms, with nothing other than the sound of the crickets outside his hut surrounding you. And for the first time in a long time, you felt what being loved felt like.  

That night, you kissed him for the first time. You didn’t stop, not even the next morning when he woke you up with breakfast already made and a cup of lavender tea. 

 Now  

"Bring him to the table!" you yelled.  

Your hand swept across the surface, knocking over every piece of paper, pencil, and piece of equipment. The vibrations of the heavier objects on the concrete floors matched the beating of your heart.  

Bucky dropped Sam on the table. The man had gone unconscious on the ride to the safe house, the bullet wound that oozed liquid crimson was most likely the cause.The same crimson color now stains Bucky's clothes, and his leather gloves were also covered in a thin layer of it.  

You brought your knife to slash through his clothes, the sharp metal cutting through them as if they were butter. The hole on his shoulder seemed to have no exit, the bullet was still inside him. You were glad Sam wasn’t conscious for the next hour.  

The super soldier hovered over you for the entirety of the time you spent cleaning through the fragments that splintered from the bullet. Everything went relatively well until Sam started waking up, his body contorting in pain as you dug through his wound. Bucky brought him a bottle of vodka while you injected him with some local anesthesia.  

Hours later, the wounded man was now resting on the only bed the safehouse had, his breathing bringing great comfort as it meant he was still alive. After half a bottle of vodka and a some painkillers diluted on his IV, you were sure he wouldn’t wake up until tomorrow.  

The faucet sprayed cold water onto your palms. Your nails desperately tried to scrape away the traces of blood that still lingered in your skin, leaving red marks all across your knuckles. Dirt and dried blood were trapped underneath your fingernails, and no matter how much you tried to dig it out, it would stay right there.  

Bucky’s footsteps brought you out of your trance, the heavy sound of his combat boots felt deafening with each step he took. You tried to tune him out, focusing once again on the sound of water, but it seemed as if Bucky had made it his purpose to be as loud as possible. You held onto the sink so strongly that you were sure it would snap.  

A deep rage came from your stomach, spreading all over your body. The anger constricted your chest in such a way that you weren’t sure if somehow you were buried under a collapsed building, its weight invisibly crushing you.  

It was his fault. It was all his fault.  

You didn’t remember walking outside the bathroom, nor did you remember walking up to him and slapping away the cup of water his hand held.  

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" you barked at him.  

"I—"  

"I gave you one task. You had to wait until I gave you the signal so you could come in. Not guns blazing, not punching everyone that comes your way, not drawing everyone's attention to us. Your only fucking job was to wait for the distributor to show up and wait for my goddamn signal."  

"What did you want me to do? Just stand there and do nothing?" he argued.  

You were taken aback by his response. Part of you expected him to just let you scream at him and give you the same soft eyes he always gave you when you spoke to him.You weren't expecting him to snap back at you or to defend himself. 

Maybe if things hadn’t gone sour between you two, you would’ve listened to what he said, and in return, he would’ve listened to you. But the anger was too strong to be subdued.  

"I wanted you to follow the fucking plan."  

"He was about to torture you!"  

Bucky's thoughts returned to the old factory turned whorehouse.The way you had purposefully gotten caught and how they had tied you to an exposed pipe line. He could still hear the sound of the man’s hand smashing against your cheek.  

"I can handle myself! I told you guys to stay put until the distributor was there. He knows I’m after him, and this was our only chance to catch him. And now he’s god knows where and Sam got fucking shot."  

A heartbeat passed before Bucky came close to your face. His big frame towered over you, and his breathing hit your face.  

"You’re fucking delusional if you think I was just going to let anything happen to you."  

You scoffed, "Oh, so now you care?"  

"I’ve always cared."  

You pulled away from him, your eyes rolling at his pathetic words.  

"Sure."  

Perhaps it was the fact that you had been in danger no longer than a couple of hours ago, or maybe it was the heat of the fight that had left some residues on him. Whatever it was, it made Bucky courageous enough to reach for your arm.  

"Look at me."  

You swatted him away.  

"Don’t fucking touch me."  

But this time he wasn't going down without a fight.Not again.  

"I know I was an asshole at the end of our relationship, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care for you anymore."  

A bitter laugh came out of you. All of this had to be some sick joke. "When you care about someone, you don’t treat them like that. You didn’t care about me, and you sure as hell didn’t love me."  

His hand tried to touch you again, and this time you let him. You were tired. Tired of fighting with him. You closed your eyes as soon as his skin came in contact with yours, his touch consuming all of your senses.  

You opened your eyes to find him staring back at you, the blue eyes that once hurt you shining the same way they did the first time you kissed him.  

"I did love you," he whispered into your lips. "I still do."  

His words burned you like someone had branded you with hot iron in the chest.Even after all this time, he could still hurt you, Why couldn’t he just leave you alone? Why did he have to bring back the past you so fiercely tried to leave behind?  

"Don’t." Your lower lip quivered. "Y-you can't just break my heart and then come back into my life and just say you still love me."  

"I never stopped loving you."  

Those five words were all it took to tear down what little control you had over yourself. A year ago it would've broken you to hear them but now they only brought a deep sense of indignation. 

With a quick move, you pulled his hand away from you, your hands pushing against his chest until he hit the wall. You wanted him to hurt. You wanted to carve his heart out of his ribcage and throw it far away, maybe then he would understand what it felt like.  

"Where was your love when I needed it, huh? Where was your love when I had no one else? Where was your love when I reached for you every night but you were already gone? Where was your love when I begged you to love me, to be there for me?" Your hands were clutching his jacket, and your vision was blurred by tears."Where the fuck was your love when you brought that girl to your apartment?"  

Bucky never saw you like this, not even when he stomped on your heart with his indifference. Under the anger, the hate, and the surface indifference you showed him, he could see how broken you were. He could see how you were constantly struggling to put the pieces of yourself back together that he had torn apart. 

He hated himself for extinguishing parts of you. 

"I’m sorry."  

A lapse of judgment.  

That’s what you would tell anyone who asked you why you kissed Bucky that night. You would say that you had been blinded by the pure rage his mere presence would bring you. Or perhaps you would take the easy route and you would say that with everything that happened that night, almost being tortured and Sam getting hurt, you had acted in a primitive instict of searching comfort.  

The truth was different. You could lie to yourself and say that you didn’t needed Bucky, not after all the things he had done. You lied to yourself constantly when you told yourself you were over him. You also lied to yourself when you claimed that your one-night stands had fulfilled you in the same way that Bucky had. 

You couldn’t feel anything, not ever since you walked out of his apartment. You had tried different people, different cities. You had tried different alcohols and different drugs. You had tried anything that could help you fill the emptiness that had found a permanent home inside you. You felt nothing, not until you saw those cerulean eyes again.  

Your kiss was aggressive, your lips smashing against his with strength and your hands finding their place in the back of his head. It took a second for Bucky to kiss you back as he thought his mind was playing tricks with him. But after you pressed yourself against his chest, his body reacted on muscle memory alone, his arms surrounding your waist.  

It wasn’t what you expected, though. You thought that the specks of love that remained between you would be enough to bring back whatever it was that you were missing. Instead, you were met with the most intense hatred you've ever felt, mixed with the melancholy of what could've been. 

He tasted like the past, but he still hurt like the present.  

So you made a decision.If you couldn't bring yourself to love Bucky Barnes anymore, you would hate him with all that remained of your soul. You would hate him until both of you burned in the flames of your agony. You'd despise him until you'd ripped every part that matched the ones he'd so easily broken. 

"I hate you," you whispered between kisses. "I fucking hate you."  

Your words were daggers to his heart. His chest tightened, and his grip on you faltered for a second before he snapped out of it. This wasn’t about him. If you needed to tell him how much you despised him, he would gladly let you kill him with your words. It was the least you deserved.  

"I know," he mumbled against your lips.  

He felt your body guiding him through the room until the back of his legs hit against the couch where he would sleep. Your hands pushed against his chest, making him sit on the couch while you straddled his lap.  

Clothes flew across the room, and you found yourself tearing his shirt apart in two while he only pulled yours off.You'd worry about that later; right now, nothing was more important than feeling your skin against his. 

Your hands traveled over his chest, fingers grazing every part of his abdomen as you trailed down to his zipper. You palmed him over his jeans, his cock already hard, and you felt it twitch against the fabric with every touch you gave him. Groans left Bucky’s lips.  

"I hate you," you repeated as a mantra.  

He shouldn’t make you feel this way, but as you see his head going back when your hand opened his fly and found it’s place around his cock you felt your own desire pooling in your lower belly and the aching in your core became unbearable.  

With swift movements, Bucky got rid of his pants and his underwear while you remained on top of him. With your frame still covered by a black lace bra and your black tactical pants on, he couldn't help but feel exposed when he looked at you.Deciding he didn’t wanted to be the only one naked his hands went to the side of your hips in efforts to get you rid of the fabric but your hand swatted him away.  

Beg me, your eyes said.  

For a moment, he considered tearing your pants apart the same way you had done with his shirt. However, the seriousness behind your eyes warned him that he might end things too soon if his stubbornness got in the way. So he gave in.  

"Please, Sunshine." His hands gripped your waist, his hips grinding against your still-wrapped core, sending shivers down your spine."Please, let me see you."  

You relented, unbuttoning your pants and throwing them away with your panties. In what were the longest seconds of Bucky’s life, you unclasped your bra, finally getting rid of the last barrier your body held on to.  

You stood there, completely naked, staring at Bucky.He remembered the way your breasts felt when he held them. He remembered how soft your skin was. He remembered that if he bit on the skin of your neck, right where the jugular is, you would clench around him. He remembered. In the lonely nights when he needed some release, he would close his eyes and imagine your lips around his cock as he fisted himself in the solitude of his apartment. 

All those memories didn’t compare to watching you in the flesh, with hungry, hateful eyes on him as you walked back to straddle him again.  

His cock twitched once your legs fell to his sides, the heat of your body settling on his crotch. You sat on top of him, your wetness welcoming him once you lowered yourself. His length placed itself right between your lips, and a groan left him.  

"Fuck."  

Your hips began rocking in slow but sharp motions as he felt his cock coated with your slick. Slowly, you built up a rhythm that made both of you moan. His hands landed again on your hips, his fingers pressing on your skin in a way that was certain to leave bruises the next day. Your own hands gripped on Bucky’s biceps for stability, and you squeezed them every time you would feel him brushing against your clit.  

You felt amazing on top of him, but that wasn’t what made his heart pound against his chest.  

It was your eyes. Your eyes never left him, no matter how much pleasure you were pulling from both of you and how badly you wanted to roll your eyes as the coil inside of you tightened. Your eyes, which once showed him what love could look like, now looked at him with a simmering hatred he could not shake.  

His chest tightened at the thought of never seeing them again. The electricity that ran through his body was replaced by a deep sense of hopelessness, and the more he kept his gaze on you, the more it amplified. You must’ve sensed the change in him because your movements stopped.  

Broken eyes now stared at you with the ghost of tears in them. The anger that had driven your actions and your thoughts through all this had now subsided, allowing itself to mix with melancholy.   

I love you. I’m sorry. I miss you. His eyes said.  

I hate you. I’ll never forgive you. I wish I never met you. Yours answered.  

And in the middle of the lust that was taking place right on the couch, both of your hearts broke again.  

You pulled him back for a kiss that tasted of desperation and sorrow as tears fell from both your eyes. The saltiness of the tears bled into the kiss and mixed with it.Quickly, your hand guided his tip to your entrance. You needed him inside you like a person lost in the desert needs water. You craved him with every cell in your body, and it tore your heart apart.  

"So tight." He moaned in your mouth as you sank into him.  

The stretch of his length burned as you forced yourself to take him fully. It hurt, and even with your arousal completely covering him, you weren't prepared to take his thick length.You didn’t care though, you hoped it would make you forget your heartbreak. Bucky tried to stop you as he felt you struggling to take him in. His hands held your waist, but you shook your head before you started bouncing on him.  

You didn’t want love from him. You didn’t want tenderness or care. You wanted roughness. You wanted strength and aggressiveness until the only thing you could feel was the ache between your legs.  

The super soldier gave you what you wanted.  

Bucky’s pace was brutal, his cock hitting the sweet spot only he could reach. The sound of his hips colliding with yours filled the room, bouncing off the walls and echoing through the hallway outside.In the back of his mind, Bucky was thankful Sam was knocked out with meds so he could be spared from the obscene orchestra your bodies played.  

The pain quickly turned into pleasure. Your walls hugged him tightly, each thrust carried a strength that left you breathless. At some point your legs had given in, the only reason why you kept bouncing was the snap of his hips pushing you. He didn’t let go of you though, instead he pushed you against his chest in an embrace that surrounded you tightly.  

Your head rested against his while your hands stayed on his chest. The sadness that mixed with the pleasure numbed everything else except for the bubbling up of your release. It pained you to admit that no one else could make you feel like Bucky, you had tried to find someone who could replicate what his touch could do for you, but no one ever came close.  

You hated how much you missed him and how much you needed him.  

"I wish you would’ve stayed dead." you panted. The poison behind your words shredded his heart. He knew you were saying it to hurt him, he knew you didn’t mean it, but the conviction behind it felt like a kick in the chest. "I wish we never brought you back."  

"Me too." he finally admitted.  

Bucky felt your walls constrict around him, and he could tell you were close. He drew you in for one last kiss, the kind that took your breath away. The type of kiss that was a solace in a world of agony. The type of kiss that meant a promise that carried forever.  

You tightened around him as you came, and his thrusts slowed down as he rode you through your high. As you closed your eyes, more tears fell from the corners, so he reached out to wipe them away.Once you had recovered a little, his brutal pace came back, this time chasing his own release. You brought your lips to kiss his neck, feathery, soft kisses, and he felt his balls tightening. He was so close.  

He tried to pull out so he could fist himself to the end but you didn’t budge, instead whispering in his ear.  

"Inside."  

He came harder than he had done in the last year. You felt his cock twitching inside as he covered your walls with his cum, the mess between your release and his own dripping out of you. You kept bouncing on top of him, making sure to return the favor by guiding him all the way through the end.  

You stood up, the feeling of emptiness making you shudder when his cock left you, and his cum started leaking out of you. You turned to go find something to clean yourself up, but his metal hand stopped you. He guided you back to the couch before he walked towards the bathroom. A few minutes later, he came back with a towel, and he positioned himself right between your legs.  

He cleaned you up just like he had done for so many years before.His other hand caressed your thigh as he made sure to wipe everything. And just as he always did for years, once he finished, he kissed your inner thigh, a couple of inches away from your pussy.  

Bucky threw the towel to the floor, he would worry about it in the morning.As for right now, the only thing he wanted was to hold you close. So he did. He thanked the couch was big enough to fit you both as you layed together. He pulled the blanket he used to warm himself every night over you, and his arm surrounded your waist, his grip making your back settle against his front. His left hand traced lazy circles over your stomach while the other was used as your pillow.  

For a few seconds, both of you allowed yourselves to reminisce in the past. He kissed the top of your head as you snuggled against him like you usually did. And as you felt his warmth behind you and inhaled his scent, everything seemed to be alright once again.  

Except they weren’t. Bucky wasn’t the man who made you feel secure anymore, and you weren’t the woman who trusted him with all her heart. Both of them belonged to the past.  

"I don’t love you anymore. I will never love you again." you broke the silence.  

Bucky held you tighter as his heart broke once again.  

"I don’t deserve your love." He whispered. "But I’ll still love you forever." 

Then  

Loving Bucky Barnes was never easy.   

It wasn’t all bad, though. For many years you had been together, three and a half to be exact, where you could imagine a life with. Three years where there was no one you trusted more or preferred to be with.Three years that were the happiest of your life.  

Those were a few of the reasons why he had asked you to marry him. And those were also a few of the reasons why you had said yes.  

You had told yourself at the beginning that you couldn’t get attached to him for the safety of your heart. It didn’t matter that his touch felt like home or that during the times you spent apart, his eyes would be the only comfort you would find in your dreams. He would bring more heartbreak than love.  

Oh, how right you had been.  

Unfortunately for you, the heartbreak would come in a way you couldn’t have prevented.  

The snap came and took him away from you. One second he was standing next to you, the next he was turning into dust that flew into the wind. The last thing he had said was your name and after that half the population was gone.  

The years went by in a blur. Between nights filled with drugs and alcohol and days spent cramped up in your apartment, you were wallowing in the type of sadness that the rest of the population could understand. You kept your ring in your finger, it reminding you that what your memories craved for were real.  

Bucky had been real.  

With his departure, he had also taken your heart. 

After a particularly bad night where you crashed your vehicle into a contention bar, Tony had taken it upon himself to help you, offering you a home close to his secluded one. You took it, not because you wanted to get better but because you wanted solitude. But if life had taught you anything about Tony Stark, it was that he was as stubborn as they come.  

Every morning he would bring you breakfast along with a visit from a certain little baby that always wanted to be held by you, and sometimes she would be able to bring a small smile to your face. With time, the little baby turned into a little girl that would ask for a sleepover every once in a while, and you would gladly accept the offer to allow Tony and Pepper a night alone.  

Things got better. You visited Steve and Natasha at the compound and even allowed yourself to go in missions of your own, as it turned out not even The Snap could make criminals take a break. You even went to one of Steve’s depressing support group meetings, never returning for the next one.  

You couldn’t be strong all the time, though. Some nights, when the pain was so strong that it drowned you and the grief was too powerful to keep at bay, you would find yourself staring at the hundreds of pictures you had taken of him. Most of them were of you together, but there were a few you took when he wasn’t looking. The sunset behind him as he breathed in the clean air of Wakanda, or the small smile on his face as he tasted the food he cooked for you both.Even when he was reading some of the books he kept under his bed and a few wrinkles would show on his forehead as his whole focus remained in the text, he always looked beautiful.  

With time, everything felt like a routine. Waking up alone, eating alone, going outside alone. Sleeping alone. Everything seemed to be stable, not good or bad, but just stable. You were sure this was the best you could do, or at least the best it could get.  

That is, until a ray of hope appeared. 

Time travel was the answer. Taken as a whole, it seemed like something out of a science fiction film, but it made sense.Bring the stones back and along with them everyone that had died. Surprisingly, it had worked, everyone that had been snapped away came back just as they had left. It should have been a moment of joy. It should've.  

The thing about hope is that it comes with a price. Natasha and Tony were the price to pay.  

Steve left shortly after.  

You understood him. You understood why he left everything and everyone behind to go live a life with the woman he had always loved. You would be a liar if you said you wouldn’t have done the same if you were in his position. You understood why he did it but it still hurt to know you weren’t enough of a reason to stay and live a life together.  

It seemed like you were on a streak of losing people. Wherever you turned, more people kept leaving your life. Wanda was gone, turned into the madness that grief could bring. Thor left to save other planets that needed him. Bruce... well, you weren’t sure where Bruce was, but he didn’t try to contact you.   

Everyone was gone but Sam and Bucky.  

Bucky. Your Bucky. The man you had spent the past five years crying for. The man who made you the happiest you'd ever felt.The man who felt like home.  

But he wasn't your Bucky any longer. 

This Bucky didn’t kiss you with the same tenderness he did so many years ago. Instead, he'd barely move his lips once yours touched his in what you'd call a mediocre peck.He also never initiated a kiss, it was you who always reached out for him.  

This Bucky didn’t held you at night. Instead, he'd turn around, his back to you, and even if you reached for him between dreams, he'd guide your hand back to your side of the bed.Some nights, he would even choose to sleep on the floor of the living room when he thought you were asleep. It was as if the thought of touching you seemed appalling to him.  

This Bucky never hugged you. 

This Bucky never talked to you with love  only with annoyance and indifference.  

This Bucky never woke you up with breakfast.  

This Bucky never tried to sleep with you.  

This Bucky never said I love you.  

Because this Bucky didn’t love you.  

But you held hope, foolishly. Every day you tried to talk to him, show him in every possible way that you were still here with him. Every day you tried to make things better between you, you poured your heart and soul to try to fix what you didn’t even know was broken.  

Things got worse a couple of months later.   

As it turned out, time had taken a toll on Steve’s body, and one night he went to bed and never woke up. You found it a bit ironic the man out of time had finally run out of time.  

His funeral was held on a sunny spring afternoon. People from all over the world showed up to say their final goodbyes to the man who had saved the world so many times. Friends, people he had saved, and heroes paid their respects to him. The first super soldier had finally been put to rest.  

After everyone had cleared out, you went back to drop one last token for his departure. It was a picture of the both of you. Steve’s arm hung over your shoulders while both of you held a couple of beers. It had been the first time you had seen Steve outside of work related situations. That was the beginning of your friendship.  

As you got back to his tombstone, you saw Bucky standing in front of it. His eyes were void of any expression, and he didn’t seem to be talking to Steve’s grave either. Bucky was just there, staring at the place where his best friend was buried.  

He didn’t seem to notice when you stood next to him, nothing in his body gave any signs of acknowledgement. You gave him a couple of minutes before you reached for his hand. You knew that, even if he didn’t show it, he was in great pain. He had lost his last connection to the life he had once lived.  

You wanted to be there to help him through his pain.  

The contact only lasted a few seconds. Your touch surprised him, as he had jolted once your skin grazed his own. He turned his head to the side to give you a glare that you’ve never seen before. His eyes had been filled with pain, as you guessed, but they also carried hatred and disdain. He must’ve seen your expression, because a second later his eyes changed to a neutral expression.  

"What are you doing here?" he muttered.  

The shock of his stare lingered in you for a moment, but you quickly returned to yourself, a friendly smile on your face."I came to leave a little parting gift."  

He hummed in acknowledgement, not sparing another glance at you as you put the photograph against the headstone, right in between the dozens of flowers that decorated it. Both of you stayed silent after that, the sounds of the birds and the faint rumbling of cars were the only sounds keeping you company. It was peaceful. It was good. Just the two of you enjoying a moment's calmness in silence. 

For a few moments, you felt comfortable next to him. The first time in months since he came back. But good moments like that never lasted long.  

Without notice, he turned around. Long, desperate strides guided him towards the exit of the graveyard. He wanted to create distance between you and him, find somewhere that was as far away from you as he could be. You felt how you were losing him.  

But you fought for him, even when he seemed to not deserve it.  

"Bucky." You called for him. He stopped in his tracks, but he didn’t turn around, so you took that as a sign to keep going. "I know you’re hurting right now, I am too, but I’m here for you. I’ll always be here for you."  

He didn’t answer for a few seconds, and you thought you had made a breakthrough. Maybe this was the time when things went uphill. This was the little push he needed to start healing and perhaps to try to rebuild the bridges that had burned. This was the little thread of hope you'd hung up on.  

You were wrong.  

"You have no idea how I feel," he said before leaving.  

That night you came back to your cabin, and Bucky’s things were gone. The only thing left was a note that rested in the middle of the bed.  

I found an apartment in the city. I need space.  

You didn’t see him for a couple of months after that. You considered tracking him down but ultimately gave up as he had asked for space. He needed time on his own, and you could give it to him. You would give him anything he asked for.  

You kept your word until Strange came to visit you, announcing news about Wanda. She was dead.  

You barely remembered tracking down his address or making your way there. It wasn’t until you were facing his door that you realized what you had done. He asked for space but in that moment, you couldn’t give it to him. You needed your Bucky.  

Knock, knock, knock.  

It was late in the night, and you could hear the TV going on in the living room. He had to be home. After a few minutes without an answer, you knocked again, but the only thing that welcomed you was silence.  

"Bucky," you called. Your voice was broken, you tried to fight the tears away, but saying his name broke what little self-control you had left. "Please open the door."  

You rested your forehead against the door, finally allowing yourself to feel everything you had been pushing back ever since the fight with Thanos. Pain, grief, loneliness, hatred, sadness, despair. A cocktail of emotions ran through you in an overwhelming way and seemed to want to drown you.  

"I know you’re in there." You cried. The tears that ran down your face landed on the floor. "I just— I know I said I could be strong for the both of us, but... I need you."  

You knocked on the door again, this time with the side of your fist. The desperate sound of your knocking bounced through the walls of the deserted hallway.  

"Please Bucky, please open the door. Wanda is dead." Your own cries stopped you from talking, the hole in your chest seemed to get bigger and bigger with each passing second. "Nat, Tony, Steve, Wanda. All of them are dead, and I���I can’t. I can’t keep losing people. I can’t lose you."  

You couldn’t do this alone, not anymore. Your heart couldn’t take it anymore.  

"I love you. God, I love you so much. I know you want space, but right now I need your love, Bucky. I need you to love me like you used to. Please love me." You begged.  

And you waited. You waited for what seemed like hours, but it probably was just thirty minutes until you accepted he wasn’t coming out.  

 You left with half a heart that night.  

Two weeks later, you came back to his apartment, ready to demand an explanation. Your love for him was strong, but you needed him to talk to you. You were ready to fight for your future. You were ready to fight for your love.  

"Bucky!" you yelled as you knocked aggressively. "Bucky, open the fucking door!"  

The door didn’t take long to open. It surprised you, your confidence and anger faltered for a second. This was a sign, perhaps it was him being ready to fight for you too. This was him showing you he still loved you.  

Except the person who opened the door wasn’t Bucky.  

It was a girl. A short brunette that was covered by Bucky’s black T-shirt and nothing more.  

"Hi."  

You wanted to scream. You wanted to burst into tears. You wanted to burn the world and leave everything behind. You wanted to die. But the only thing you could do was stay there and stare at the girl.  

"Umm, Bucky is not here." She said awkwardly, your intense stared made her uncomfortable.  

"Do you know where he is?" You questioned her. The words came out rougher than you intended, but as the heartbreak and despair set in, you couldn't care less. 

"No. I, um, when I woke up he was already gone." She pulled the hem of the t-shirt down in an effort to convey her nervousness, but it only infuriated you more. "Are you a friend of his?"  

You wanted to laugh. God, this couldn’t be happening.  

"Yeah, of sorts."  

"I can let you in so we can wait for him, but I have to leave in like twenty minutes."  

"You can’t call him?" you asked, bitterly. You knew Bucky had gotten a new phone but he never gave you his number.  

Her face blushed before she answered. "No, uh. We met last night, and he didn’t give me his number.  

"Oh."  

You didn’t know what would be worse, if he had seen this girl ever since he left your cabin or the fact that he had a one night stand with a random girl. It didn’t matter, though, Bucky Barnes had crushed your heart.  

The girl, whose name was Clara, kept her word, leaving minutes later as she had to go to work. She seemed like a nice girl who had no idea the man she had slept with was engaged. And perhaps in another world you would’ve been nicer to her if your heart hadn’t collapsed in on itself when she opened the door. Maybe she was a little naïve, as she let you stay inside the apartment so you could wait on Bucky. She had also asked you to give him her number, the digits scribbled on a piece of paper.  

You broke down the moment she closed the door behind her. You thought of trashing the place, breaking every piece of furniture he owned, and burning all his clothes in a pit in the middle of his living room. You imagined yourself hurling the stupid leather jacket he seemed to be fond of lately.You also thought about settling for burning everything to the crisp, wanting to see the look on his eyes once he saw his apartment consumed by flames.  

You didn’t do any of those things, though; instead, you waited. This time, hours actually went by, the once bright morning turned into the darkness of the night, and you never moved from your spot on the couch, not even to turn on the lights.  

Bucky came back to his apartment around 11 p.m. When he noticed the apartments' lack of lightning, he felt relieved not to have to deal with the girl he had taken home the night before. By the looks of it, she left a while ago.  

He turned on the light before taking of his jacket, placing it on the coat hanger next to the door.As he walked to the kitchen to get a glass of water, he tossed his keys on the counter.He had to change the sheets on his bed and do laundry tomorrow. The glass was half full when a voice behind him spoke.  

"You have a nice place here."  

The glass dropped from his hands into the kitchen sink. His head snapped quickly towards you, finding you seated in the middle of his couch. He turned off the sink, before making his way toward you. You couldn’t be here, not today of all days.  

"How the hell did you get in here?" he barked.  

He didn’t mean it like that, not in the way it sounded. He wasn’t angry at you being inside his apartment, he was scared. Scared that you had arrived at the wrong time and seen something you weren’t meant to see.  

He finally stood in front of you and saw it. Your nose was slightly puffy and red, like you had been crying for some time. Your shoulders were slumped, defeat washing over your posture. But the thing that hurt the most to see was the pain behind your eyes. It wasn’t the normal type of pain of loss or grief as you had experienced these past months. No, it was something else.  

It was the pain of heartbreak and betrayal.  

It couldn’t be.  

You couldn't have been here when she was still in his house. There was no way, life could not hate him this way. It had to be something else that broke your heart, he had hurt you many times this past couple of months, and today was probably the day it all crashed down. It had to be that.  

"Clara let me in."  

No.  

"Nice girl, she left her number for you."  

You knew, you had seen the girl who was apparently named Clara, he didn’t really remember it. Bucky knew he had to do something, anything that could save your relationship. Perhaps if he begged you not to leave him, to let him explain everything that had been going on with him, and if he spent the rest of his days making it up to you, then you would stay. Maybe you could forgive him.  

He didn’t do any of that, though. The same thoughtless attitude washed over him like it had done ever since he came back. It was as if his brain forced him to act this way in order to protect his own heart in the long run. 

Instead of doing everything he could to fix this, he shrugged and crossed his arms over his chest.  

"How long?" you asked. Bucky could see your eyes watering as you tried to keep yourself together. He hated himself. "How long have you been cheating on me?"  

His mouth answered without his permission.  

"Does it even matter?"  

Maybe he was right. Maybe it the answer wouldn’t change the way you were feeling; if anything, it was bound to hurt you more. But a part of you wanted to know the truth, to extinguish the other half of your heart.  

You didn’t budge, so Bucky finally answered, not before rolling his eyes. "She’s the only one. I met her yesterday in a bar. "He shrugged. "It just happened."  

You knew the answer, yet it still hit you with the force of a thousand bricks. He admitted it. He fucking admitted it and he didn’t even show a single morsel of remorse. There weren't any apologies or begs, no promises, or big romantic and sorrowful speeches. You could feel your own love being smothered, the flames that had once brought so much warmth to your soul were replaced by cold and emptiness.  

Bucky Barnes didn’t love you anymore. 

Now  

Bruises covered your body as well as new injuries that would probably give you more scars. Dirt and blood slid down the drain, exhaustion settling in as your muscles relaxed. The droplets of water fell against your body, washing away everything that had happened today.  

You found the intel, you knew every single name of everyone involved with the heinous experiments you were chasing.  

You had almost died, one of the guys Bucky and you had cornered, had a bomb attached to his chest. You tried to stop him, your gun pointing at his head, but you were too slow. The explosion shook the entire structure, causing a chain collapse of the floors around you. 

Bucky had jumped to protect you, his body acting as a human shield, deflecting some of the impact.His flesh arm had a large metal piece embedded in it, as well as some burns on his back. The explosion had knocked you both out of the air, and the resulting wave had thrown you both across the room. 

As you tried to shake away the confusion and the ringing from your ears, you felt his hand find its place along your face and travel to your stomach. As he scanned you, blue eyes looked at you with fogginess but also deep concern. 

"You ok?" he had whispered.  

You nodded, but your mind was still fuzzy, perhaps you had hit your head, but you couldn’t remember much.  

But you remembered the desperation. You remembered everything crumbling apart as you tried to make your way to the exit. You remembered Sam’s voice screaming through your earpieces to get the fuck out of there. You remembered Bucky's hand always keeping you safe, guiding you through the clouds of cement and smoke.  

You also remembered how Bucky’s steps faltered before collapsing. Neither of you had noticed he had a second piece of metal scrap buried between his ribs. If he had removed it, his enhanced healing would have taken care of it, but the extenuating movements had caused damage to his lungs, bleeding, and a lack of oxygen, causing him to pass out. 

You remembered screaming for Sam’s help, begging him to help you save Bucky. You remembered the tears falling from your eyes as you tried to pull Bucky to safety, begging him not to die, begging him to wake up. You remembered the fire catching up to you, it’s warmth burning your skin. You wanted to kill Bucky, you would be happy if you never seen his face again, dance on top of his grave as you celebrated the end of his existance.  

Then why were you fighting so hard to save him?  

"Wake up. Wake up. Wake up. You can’t do this to me!"  

"Bucky wake the fuck up!"  

"Please! I can’t lose you like this!"  

Fortunately, Sam came for you, him and all his Captain America glory had saved both of you, his wings protecting all three of you as you carried Bucky outside. You had barely gone a few steps ahead when the building finally set one last explosion, ending with everything on it's way.All three of you landed on the floor with a thud as the shock wave reached you.  

You focused your attention on Bucky's wound, which was already healing, but his lack of response worried you.His breathing was barely existent, and his heartbeat was decreasing. You had straddled his lap and began performing CPR on him while asking Sam to go fetch the adrenaline shot you stored in the vehicle. You had punctured Bucky's chest with it, and after a few seconds, he had woken up.  

You remembered clinging to him as he tried to sit straight, the desperation finally gone from your body.  

The body behind you wrapped his hands along your waist, pulling you out of your memories and spreading the soap he had covered you with. Bucky's fingers traced all the way down your body, removing every trace of stress. 

After everything happened, Sam told you to go back to the safehouse while he met with Joaquin to try and start locating people with the intel you had gathered. You thought about fighting him, but one look at Bucky and any fight you had left was done.  

A knowing look from Sam told you this wasn’t just to let both of you rest and get cleaned up. It was a second chance.  A second chance at the talk you had avoided to had with Bucky ever since that night you slept together.  

You drove back to the safehouse, and once you had gotten inside, everything crumbled apart inside of you. As you reached out to Bucky, your tears had fallen, your hand lingering in his fleshy arm, right where his wound was.His hand cupped your face, his thumb tracing the stream of blood that fell from your eyebrow. In the silence of the room, no words were exchanged, but both your hearts understood.  

Just for today, you would allow yourselves to comfort each other.  

His lips peppered kisses along your shoulder as he cleaned you, his lips sometimes finding your neck or your lips when you would press yourself against him. As you spread the shampoo over his head, your fingers massaged his scalp with the tenderness he had missed, his eyes closing every time you hit the right spot. 

After drying yourselves and changing into new clothes, you both layed on the bed, covered over the head with the thin white sheet you had. You faced each other, blue eyes meeting yours. Your fingers found his face as you traced along every crevice and line you hadn’t seen before. Bucky appeared to have aged years in the time you hadn't seen him, but he remained as beautiful as ever. 

Your heart ached in your chest, and you couldn’t fight it anymore. You had denied yourself the other feelings that remained inside of you other than hate and betrayal, but today, as death seemed to call for both of you, it was clear you didn’t want Bucky Barnes to die. A part of you hated him so deeply you weren’t sure you would be able to stop, but no matter how strong the hatred was, you were sure a part of you still loved him.  

However, that part of you was broken. Battered and bruised to death by his own doing but it was still there. It was locked inside the thousand-foot wall you had built around it to keep it safe. Refusing to ask questions, refusing to talk to him, and refusing to admit the pain you were in. But in doing so you hadn’t given yourself the opportunity to heal. To move on.  

So you allowed yourself to feel and to talk. For both your sake and his. 

"Why did you do it?" you broke the silence. His breathing faltered as your hand retracted back to your side. "Why did you hurt me like that?"  

Bucky struggled to find the right words. You were asking him the same question he had asked himself for many, many nights. He asked himself that question when he wouldn’t reach for you at night. He asked himself that question when he didn’t open the door for you.  

He asked himself that question when you walked out of his life.  

You deserved the truth. The whole, unapologetic, heartfelt truth. So he gave it to you.  

"The first time I came back to myself, after fighting Steve in the helicarrier, I realized the world had moved on without me. My plans, my family, and the people I knew were all left in the past. They all moved on without me, everyone was gone except for Steve. I had a plan, after the war I would go back and find myself a beautiful girl to marry." A sad smile posed on his lips as he reminisced. "I wanted the white picket fence and three kids package. Cookouts with my family and friends while I was still a war hero. But all of that was gone the moment I woke up in a time that wasn’t mine. My dreams were gone."  

He paused before reaching for your face, his eyes closing before opening again, tears streaming down his cheeks."Ever since I woke up, I was a man drifting in a time that wasn’t mine, in a life that wasn’t mine. I didn’t have any dreams, or aspirations other than to survive and perhaps discover the truth. Nothing made sense to me, not until I met you." His thumb wiped away the tears you didn’t know they were falling. "You were the very first person, aside from Steve, that was kind to me. You talked to me, listened to what I had to say. You showed me what this new world was about, how to survive in it, and above all, you never doubted my innocence. It wasn’t because you knew me like Steve did, or because he had asked you as a favor. You were my friend, the very first I made when I was lost. And along the way, you turned into more, you were my new dream. I fell in love with you, and suddenly it didn’t matter that I wasn’t supposed to be here, or what it could’ve been because with you, I finally felt like I belonged somewhere."  

A sob escaped you, his words burning your heart, branding them with the love you once felt for him. The heartbreak and the pain came once again, but it felt different. It was comforting in a way that scared you, terrified you. You knew he had loved you once, but you had stored those memories far away where they couldn’t hurt you. Because it was easier to tell yourself that Bucky had never actually loved you than to think he had loved you and had still betrayed you.  

"But no matter how much time passed or how loved or comfortable I felt, I was still scared. I was terrified. Terrified of the same thing happening again. Every day, I'd tell myself, 'Something is going to happen, something is going to take me away from you, and when I come back, another hundred years will have passed.' And it did happen. When Thanos snapped me away, I came back, and to me only seconds had passed, but for you it was five years. Everything had changed again, even you. There was this sadness that seemed to have nested behind your eyes every time you looked at me. And every time I looked at you, I could see how much you had suffered because of me, it was my fault, and I couldn’t do anything about it."  

"It wasn’t your fault." You tried to argue, but his words interrupted you.  

"I felt like it was. I felt like I must’ve had some sort of curse that would always take me away from what made me the happiest, and in return, I would hurt everyone around me with it. I had died once again and the world kept going, once again. And I tried really hard to fight those thoughts, but it was as if a cloud of darkness would whisper to me that I didn't belong here anymore.That everything had changed once again, and it would happen again and again and again until I finally died. And I didn't know what to do; it was as if this voice was drowning me, washing away every ounce of happiness I had left inside me until all that remained was anger and resentment." 

His voice had broken, as had his ability to hold back the tears.He had buried this for so long, too embarrassed to say them aloud, to admit how he had messed up everything because he was afraid.He wasn’t the man who had sworn to protect you against everything, he was a coward. A coward who had let his own fear hurt you in ways he could never fix.  

"I’m sorry. I’m so sorry." Bucky kissed your forehead. "You didn’t deserve any of what I did to you, and I don’t think I could ever forgive myself for doing that. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you when you needed me, I’m sorry I pushed you away when all you did was trying to help me. I’m sorry I slept with someone else. I'm sorry I messed everything up because the truth is, you have been the best thing that has ever happened to me, past and present, and if I had to go through all of the pain, torture, and heartbreak all over again just to meet you, I would." 

You stayed there in silence for minutes. Neither of you dared say anything else that would break the silence. Both your hearts had been through a lot today, from the threats of death to the realizations of love and pain that had been confessed. But amongst the suffering and the torment, both of your hearts began to heal, and the pieces that had been ripped apart came back to where they belonged.  

You took his hands into yours, your lips kissing his knuckles. "I don’t know if I could ever forgive you for what you did." Bucky’s eyes closed in ache, he knew it was a possibility, but it still hurt to know there was no hope, but your words stopped him from spiraling. "But I would like to try."  

Hope. A tiny silver of hope. 

"Do you think there is a chance for us in the future?"  

You considered it. Your mind and your heart still pulling towards different directions but none of them letting you decide. Would you be willing to risk your heart once again for Bucky Barnes, or has the damage been too great to be fixed and covered? "I don’t know."  

"That’s ok. I'm not going to ask about it again unless you want me to." 

He kissed you one last time. His lips still had a subtle taste of smoke and burned, but above it was something overpowering, something both of you felt as he deepened the kiss. You both tasted redemption and forgiveness. 

Forever 

"Thanks for helping me."  

"Don’t thank me, I’m only doing it for the beer."  

Bucky and you chuckled at his poor attempt at a joke, your footsteps echoing in the half-empty apartment. A couple of seconds later, your mattress landed with a loud thud in your bedroom, making you happy to be finally done. You threw yourself on the bed, Bucky following you close behind, his heaviness bouncing you off. You turned to your side, resting your head on your hand, and he replicated your pose.  

It had been a year and a half since you decided to bring Bucky back into your life, and things had changed dramatically since then.You stopped doing solo missions and moved to New York, where you split your time between assisting Sam and Bucky with their shenanigans and volunteering at the woman's shelter Sam had connected you with. 

In the beginning, it was difficult to adapt to a tamer lifestyle than the one you had lived in the past year, but listening to all those women, the things they had been through, showed you that sometimes the thing people need to start healing is to have someone along the way.  

Bucky and you had become friends, just as you had been when you first met. It took time to get back to the beginning, but soon you found out how much you needed him as a friend, not a lover or a soulmate but just someone with whom you could talk. And, over the course of the many nights you spent talking, forgiveness found its way into your heart.You didn’t forget the past between both of you, but along the way there was understanding and care.  

"How was your date?"  

You shrug. "It was ok, not that great to be honest." 

During this time you had gone on a couple of dates, even went out with a guy for a couple of months, and since you and Bucky were ‘just friends’ you thought it would be uncomfortable to talk to him about them. But he had developed a habit of surprising you, and as it turned out, he was okay with it. When you asked why he was okay with it, his response surprised you. 

"I love you, I’ll always love you. But if you need me as a friend and nothing more, then I’ll be your friend."  

Your heart was still reluctant about him, after all, pain is a thing you can hardly forget. That had been the reason why you had tried to find someone else. Someone who could make you laugh as hard as he did, someone who could make you blush with just a cocky smile, someone who could calm you down and make everything better by simply holding you close at night.Someone who could make you happy. But all of them failed, because they weren’t Bucky Batnes.  

No one ever compared to Bucky Barnes, because after all the lies, heartbreak, and death surrounding you, he was still the only person who felt like home.  

Blue eyes stared at you and all you could feel was your heart racing. He was the man you had once loved and he had betrayed you, but time had mended your heart. The part of you that hated him was gone, and instead the love you felt for him came back, maybe not as strong as it once was but it didn’t matter. Your love was willing to build itself up, your love was willing to let him in one last time.  

"Ask me" you uttered. Your voice was so quiet that you thought he wouldn't hear you, but his puzzled expression told you otherwise. 

"What?"  

Your hand grabbed his, your thumb was drawing circles on his skin.  

"Bucky, ask me."  

Bucky’s heart stopped. A part of him had always told him that you would never want him back, and he couldn't blame you. He had hurt you in so many ways that he could never forgive himself. He had been sure the best he could have from you was friendship, and he had made his peace with it. Having you as only a friend was better than not having you at all.  

But you were giving him an opportunity, and he would be damned if he didn’t take it.  

"Would you—" he paused, clearing his throat.The nervousness inside him erased his ability to speak. "Would you like to go out for dinner? As in a date?"  

You made it seem as if you were thinking about it, but he didn’t worry about it. He knew your answer already.  

"Yeah, I guess I can make time for one date."  

You smiled. You gave him your biggest, most genuine smile in a long time.He smiled too.  

Loving Bucky Barnes hadn’t been easy. But as you both lay in your beds, his hands caressing your face and new hope brewing between you, your heart told you that this time would be different. 

He wasn't the same tormented man from another time you'd fallen in love with, and you weren't the same broken but hopeful girl he'd loved with all his heart.You both had hurt each other, but you had also grown, both of you in your own ways, and yet destiny had brought you back together.  

This time, neither of you was scared. 

This time, loving him would come as easily as breathing.

If you like the story please interact: reblogs, likes and comments go a long way. Feedback is always appreciated! Feel free to message me about it.

Tag list: @wintasssoldier @fallenoutofrose @cjand10 @nouk1998 @smplymrvl @littlemiss-yeehaw @magnificentsvn @kentokaze @gostodosopa @musicgirl44 @rebloggingmyrecs @mbindzus-blog @pampeop @buckystwilight @blackhawkfanatic @miss-i-ship-it @bibliophilewednesday

[tiz-chan]

SnK characters and their arcana if they were in a Persona game:

note: the descriptions come from Labyrinthos Academy. Some traits are upright readings, whereas others are reverse. I just tried to pick whichever traits I thought matched best. 

Eren: The Chariot

Determination

Ambition

Willpower

Aggression

Obstacles 

The Chariot tarot card is all about overcoming challenges and gaining victory through maintaining control of your surroundings. This perfect control and confidence allows the charioteer to emerge victorious in any situation. The use of strength and willpower are critical in ensuring that you overcome the obstacles that lie in your path. The Chariot's message comes to make you stronger as you strive to achieve your goals.

Mikasa: The Lovers

Love

Unity

Choices

Detachment

Indecision

The primary meaning within the Lovers is harmony, attractiveness, and perfection in a relationship. The trust and the unity that the lovers have gives each of them confidence and strength, empowering the other. The bond that they have created is very strong. A more personal Lovers meaning that can apply to individuals is the development of your own personal belief systems, regardless of what are the societal norms. This is one of the times when you figure out what you are going to stand for, and what your philosophy in life will truly be. You must start making up your mind about what you find important and unimportant in your life. You should be as true to yourself as you can be, so you will be genuine and authentic to the people who are around you.

Armin: The Magician

Desire

Resourcefulness

Concentration

Cunning

Manipulation

When you get the Magician in your reading, it might mean that it's time to tap into your full potential without hesitation. It might be in your new job, new business venture, a new love or something else. It shows that the time to take action is now and any signs of holding back would mean missing the opportunity of becoming the best version of yourself. Certain choices will have to be made and these can bring great changes to come. Harness some of the Magician's power to make the world that you desire most.

Historia: The Empress

Sensuality

Nurturing

Creativity

Insecurity

Negligence

The Empress shows us how deeply we are embedded to our femininity. Femininity could be associated with fertility, expression, creativity and nurturing among many other aspects. It therefore calls you to connect with beauty and bring happiness to your life. Understand yourself and get in touch with your sensuality so that you can attract life circumstances to bring happiness and joy. She is a signal that be kind to yourself, to take care of yourself. The Empress is also a strong indication of pregnancy and motherhood.

Jean: Death

Transformations

Transition

Letting go

Repeating negative patterns

Fear of change

The Death card signals that one major phase in your life is ending, and a new one is going to start. You just need to close one door, so the new one will open. The past needs to be placed behind you, so you can focus your energy on what is ahead of you.

Reiner: The Moon

Complexity

Secrets

Confusion

Deception

Anxiety

the Moon card can symbolize your imagination is taking the best of you. In the dark of the night, you are taking a path that you are unsure of, for there could be danger lurking in its depths. You are the crawfish embarking on the path in the card. The moon's light can bring you clarity and understanding and you should allow your intuition to guide you through this darkness.

Bertholdt: The Tower

Destruction

Trauma

Sudden Change

Upheaval

Chaos

The Tower represents change in the most radical and momentous sense. It is for this reason that the card itself visually looks so unnerving. But it doesn't necessarily have to be truly frightening or ominous. Because at the heart of this card, its message is foundational, groundbreaking change. The kind of event that the Tower card marks does not have to be something terrible, like a disaster or a great loss.  Change itself is a normal part of life that one has to embrace. But it can sometimes strike fear, for it means that we must abandon the truths that we have known prior to this event. The old ways are no longer useful, and you must find another set of beliefs, values and processes to take their place.

Annie: The Hermit

Contemplation

Solitude

Self-reflection

Rejection

Loneliness

You are currently contemplating that you need to be alone. Never be afraid to take this chance to reflect, as it could help you clear your mind of all the clutter that comes with everyday life. The Hermit may also refer to your effort in taking action that is authentic and aligned with your true self. You are perhaps searching your inner soul for guidance on what is right, and where your next steps are to be.

Levi: Justice

Honesty

Integrity

Consequences

Fairness

Cause and Effect

The decisions that you make now have long-term effects in all things, both for yourself and others. There will always come a time where you will be judged. The Justice tarot card appearing in a reading signals that a judgment will be made fairly and accordingly. The decisions that you have made in the past will be carefully weighed with fairness.

Hanji: The Sun

Success

Optimism

Confidence

Excessive Enthusiasm

Unrealistic Expectations

The Sun card represents success, abundance, and radiance. Like the sun itself, it gives strength and vitality to all those that are lucky enough to feel its rays. There is much joy and happiness that is coming to you. Because of your own personal fulfillment, you provide others with inspiration and joy as well. People are drawn to you because they are capable of seeing the warm and beautiful energy which you bring into their lives. You are also in a position in which you are capable of sharing your qualities as well as achievements with other people. You radiate love and affection towards those you care about the most.

Erwin: The Emperor

Authority

Control

Focus

Protection

Stubborn

It’s all about control when it comes to the Emperor, for this card means authority, regulation, organization and a fatherliness. The Emperor represents a strategic thinker who sets out plans that he must see through. He is a symbol of the masculine principle - the paternal figure in life that gives structure, creates rules and systems, and imparts knowledge. Where the Empress's desire for their kingdom is to create happiness, the emperor desires to foster honor and discipline. He guides with a firm hand, following the calling of the crown above all else. Though he is a ruler, he understands that to reign is also to serve - thus he acts rationally and according to what is for the greater good of the kingdom.

Ymir: The Hanged-Man

Sacrifice

Uncertainty 

Contemplation

Lack of direction

Waiting

The hanged man understands that his position is a sacrifice that he needed to make in order to progress forward - whether as repentance for past wrongdoings, or a calculated step backward to recalculate his path onward. This time he spends here will not be wasted, he does this as part of his progression forward. His upside down state can also symbolize the feeling of those that walk a spiritual path, for they see the world differently. Where there are others that do not understand the need to sacrifice, you see it differently. This is a natural course of action for you as you walk the path alone.

Marco: The Star

Hope

Inspiration

Positivity

Faith

Renewal

The Star brings hope, renewed power, and strength to carry on with life. It shows how abundantly blessed you are by the universe as evidenced by the various things around you. It may not be directly evident at the moment, for this card follows the trauma of the Tower card. Remember that you hold within you all that you need for your fulfillment - the only thing that you need is courage. For this, you have all reasons to rejoice. To see this card is a message to have faith, for the universe will bless you and bring forth all that you need.

Sasha: Strength

Courage

Confidence

Compassion

Inner-power 

Cowardice 

When you get the Strength card in an upright manner during your tarot reading, then it shows that you have inner strength and fortitude during moments of danger and distress. It shows that you have the ability to remain calm and strong even when your life is going through immense struggle. It also shows that you are a compassionate person and you always have time for other people even if it's at your own expense.

Connie: The Fool

Beginnings 

Adventure

Reckless

Naive

Distracted

To see the The Fool generally means a beginning of a new journey, one where you will be filled with optimism and freedom from the usual constraints in life. When we meet him, he approaches each day as an adventure, in an almost childish way. He believes that anything can happen in life and there are many opportunities that are lying out there, in the world, waiting to be explored and developed. He leads a simple life, having no worries, and does not seem troubled by the fact that he cannot tell what he will encounter ahead.

Zeke: The Devil

Oppression

Addiction

Obsession

Independence

Reclaiming control

Getting the devil card in your reading shows that you have feelings of entrapment, emptiness and lack of fulfillment in your life. It might also mean that you are a slave to materialism and opulence and no matter how hard you try, you just can’t seem to shake off the feeling of wanting to indulge in luxurious living. Addiction to substances or material pleasures can also be the reason for your feelings of powerlessness and entrapment. In situations such as these, you may feel as though you are a slave, unable to control your impulses or willpower to direct yourself towards something other than the satisfaction of these desires.

[marshvlovestv]

Eric in the Pod Room - An impassioned defense of a man at his worst

Big tw for discussions of suicide, suicidal ideation, and mental illness, and lots of me projecting my own issues onto a terrible fictional character

I’m in a really bad place mentally right now and I’m immersing myself in a Zero Escape Let’s Play series to distract myself from it. It definitely isn’t the healthiest thing for me to be hyperfixated on right now - the series has a chummy relationship with the concept of suicide, after all, and suicidal thoughts are my worst symptom at the moment. But you know what, it’s twisted, but I’m so dangerously comfortable with my own suicidality at this point that the themes of suicide in Zero Escape almost feel warm and welcoming, to the point where I’d even consider them a factor in why I am so obsessed with the series.

I was working on a larger meta, which most of this post is an excerpt from, about the many suicides from Zero Time Dilemma specifically - none of them influenced by Radical-6, all of them with some interesting psychological analysis to be done concerning them. But the Let’s Players have reached the Pod Room, the puzzle that seems to singlehandedly give players the most reason to hate my favorite character. They turned out to be no exception, and they spent the length of the puzzle going on and on about how they despise Eric. I got really tense and upset and thought, “You know what? Forget about Diana, Carlos, and Delta. I can talk about them later. All I want to do right now is come to Eric’s defense. I want to talk about my boy.”

Like, I get it, you know? The first time I saw the Pod Room, I wasn’t the biggest fan of Eric, either. He bullies Sean, he actively refuses to be of any help in solving the puzzle, he makes lewd comments about Mira (and for the record, the problem I have with this is the fact that he says these things around a child, not the comments themselves; people should be allowed to experience and express sexual attraction and that is a hill I will die on). After the puzzle itself, we learn about Eric’s deepest trauma and after that I see people either feel bad for hating him and begin to sympathize with him fully, or go, “Yeah, that sucks for him, but it still doesn’t forgive a damn thing. He’s the worst and I hate him and I hate this game for making him exist.” I am firmly in the first camp, if you couldn’t tell.

Lest we forget: This is the route at the end of which Eric commits suicide. A murder-suicide, granted, but still. He takes his own life. The Pod Room is the start of Eric’s descent into rock bottom and I just... can’t hate him for that, especially not when I recognize some of myself in him. I have never killed another person (I promise); I don’t have homicidal thoughts. I don’t know personally what would compel someone to commit a murder-suicide and I don’t even want to speculate. But his homicidal tendencies aside, Eric and his suicidality have always spoken to me personally.

I’ve done plenty of analysis of Eric in the past under the lens of personality disorders, and my most general conclusions are that he suffers from PTSD, dependent personality disorder, and possibly borderline personality disorder as well. Suicidality is highly correlated with all three of those disorders, and as such I find it highly unlikely that his decision to kill himself in this route is a spontaneous one. If he is anything like me, when he isn’t actively, imminently suicidal, he probably still spends a lot of time imagining worst-case scenarios in which suicide would be a no-brainer. For me, my worst-case scenarios often involve the loss of my parents; they are my Safe People, people around whom my AvPD symptoms are less extreme and my behavior is less inhibited, and I seriously fear for my ability to function without them in my life. Sufferers of many different personality disorders have “special people” like this in some way or another. DPD and BPD have, respectively, Depended People and Favorite People, the objects of the sufferer’s attachment. Mira clearly fulfills both of these roles in Eric’s life, and lots of his worst-case scenarios must involve the loss of her.

Before her death is even confirmed, we can see how much he struggles to function without her there in the puzzle room. I read Eric’s behavior in the Pod Room as him flailing in the absence of his special person. The Let’s Players I’m watching have even made derisive comments about how he doesn’t even know how to be a person, and I’m sitting here like, yeah. You’re right. He doesn’t know how to be a person, not right now. His identity and self-worth are tied to a person who has disappeared under mysterious and stressful circumstances; without her, he feels useless and helpless, which is why he’s overwhelmed by something as simple as a sliding block puzzle. Without her, he loses his grip on his self-control, which is why he has no filter to stop him from saying inappropriate things and why can’t stop his worse impulses to mistreat people. I’m not trying to say that anything he does in the Pod Room is right, but there is a reasonable explanation for why he acts the way he does.

And then, they find Mira’s body. One of Eric’s worst-case scenarios has come true, and in the process he has lost not only the person most important to him but the very sense of self that said person helped him feel. It’s just as bad as he always imagined, and even worse, she was killed in exactly the same way his brother was, triggering a PTSD flashback. His trauma is further compounded by being shown graphic video of Junpei and Akane’s deaths (and later just being shown their dismembered bodies in person).The devastation he must be feeling in this moment is beyond what I can even comprehend and I fully understand why he snaps.

Again, I don’t want to speculate as to why his mind goes “revenge first, suicide second” and why he kills people he could be reasonably sure are innocent. All I can say for sure is that, when he does ultimately kill himself, it’s not out of guilt and it’s not out of fear of consequences. His last words are promising Mira that he’ll be with her soon. The suicide is about her. It was always about her. It’s not just that he’ll miss her; he genuinely cannot picture a life for himself where she is not a part of it, at least not a good one.

(Quick sidenote here to talk about one other thing that Eric does in this route: shooting out the X-Pass authenticator. Once Mira’s body is found, six people have died, meaning that Eric, Sean, and Q are free to leave. But Eric shoots out the authentication device before this is possible. When this happened in the Let’s Play, the players called him an idiot for destroying his own means of escape, which really annoyed me. Here’s the thing: Eric is already actively suicidal at this point. He destroys his key to the outside world because he can no longer imagine a life for himself in the outside world. Shooting the authenticator was in itself an act of suicide, even though he wasn’t pulling the trigger on himself.)

All of this is not to say that Eric is okay in the true end and should be left to his own devices. He’s a man in pain, a man in constant crisis, and he’s in desperate need of intervention to prevent him from harming himself or others. I like him and Mira together and she will likely always be a special (Depended, Favorite) person to him, but he can’t and shouldn’t rely on his relationship with her to keep his head above water and keep him from acting the way he did in the Pod Room. Eric needs professional help; but call me optimistic, I think that learning from Sean about how he acted on the other routes, what it looks like when he is truly at rock bottom, might inspire him to seek that help.

Anyway. Sorry for the rant, I hope it was interesting at least. I’m going to go refill my medications and schedule an appointment with my therapist because, as fun and cathartic as this was to write, it’s definitely not healthy to get this riled up over fictional characters; plus, I can’t rightly advocate for a fictional character to get help when I’m not taking care of myself, can I?

[agentmonet]

Jacqueline “Jack” Devereux (FC: Astrid Berges-Frisbey)

Pronouns: She/Her

Rank: Apollo

Skill Set Strengths: Gymnastics and Acrobatics, Art and General Counterfeiting, Linguistics, Surveillance, Long Cons

Areas of Opportunity: Smuggling, Operational Organization, and History

Weaknesses: Marksmanship, Hand-to-Hand Combat, and Technological Aptitude

Positive Traits: Disciplined, Calculated, Careful, Balanced, and Intelligent

Negative Traits: Cold, Frigid, Impersonal, Disloyal, and Snobbish

Timeline

Born October 22nd, 1988 in Nice, France to well-to-do French/Spanish aristocracy on the verge of financial ruin

Child of mixed trades - a passion for fine arts, but a talent for gymnastics

Begins competing as a gymnast, earnings gold and silver trophies. Nearly qualified for the Olympics, before an injury and growing dependence on pain killers disqualify her from competition (Age 19)

Earns a scholarship at The Royal College of Art in London, England and emerges with a Fine Arts Degree (Age 23)

Employed as a junior, art restorer for the National Gallery when she catches a counterfeit art piece - catching the attention of Pantheon’s ranks

Joins Pantheon and is placed as an Apollo (Age 27)

The Pantheon’s go-to for art counterfeiting and cons requiring steady hands and athletic flexibility

Languages Spoken

French (Native)

Spanish (Native)

English (Fluent)

Portuguese

German 

Mandarin

Italian 

Learning Japanese and Cantonese

Character Parallels

Marcia Roy

Olenna Tyrell

Amy Dunne

Mystique

Black Widow

Blair Waldorf

Full Biography

There was a certain, gilded path for the members of Spanish aristocracy. A life that promised importance, lineage, and relevance - long after one had come and gone from the world. It was an old world ideal, but for Duque Lorenzo Jiménez, it remained the expectation. Never mind that the Jiménez’s finances were built on the dwindling foundation of ancestral wealth. He would argue that nobility is synonymous with grandeur. They simply needed to show it to the world. To dig within, and shine. In the bloom of young love, Marianne Devereux promised just that. A highly accomplished painter from a well-to-do family from the South of France; the artist encapsulated what Lorenzo wanted for himself. A grand existence of popularity and influence, shrouded by the classist structures he enjoyed so well. The promise of a son came soon after their wedding, cleverly picking the name ‘Jackson’ after the Pollock painter. But a misread sonogram brings a surprise, and in his place, is her. It’s Jacqueline, they decide. However, the affectionate nickname ‘Jack’ was solidified throughout Marianne’s pregnancy - and it sticks.

Life is not without its share of disappointments, and Jack is exposed to the tumultuous nature of her parents’ marriage. At a young age, the cracks began to appear over the polished glass of the couple. Her father’s taste for champagne, caviar, and excess slowly but surely diminished their financial status. A man of privilege, who never knew a day’s work in his life, placed the blame on his partner. An art career that once showed promise, proved fruitless in the years to come. Year after year, her popularity dwindled. And with it, the financial prosperity of the young family. In the cold, imposing ancestral home - Jack lived in relative solitude. When the marble halls weren’t shaking with her father’s wrath and her mother’s cool resentment, it rang a hollow silence. Something cold and imposing, in all that surrounded her. A cold state of being, as it turned out, made for survival. Jack managed through the toxicity of her family, by virtue of numbness. The singular source of emotional expression, brought by a paint brush and a canvas.

It was the first of many things that her father would take away from her. In its place, is the rigor of gymnastics. What began as a six-year-old’s hobby, evolved into a vocation. Sure, Jack was a tried and true natural - likely inherited from athletes from her father’s side. Something special in her bones, that made her pliable and agile. And sometimes, it was enjoyable. Nothing to be disliked about being excellent, and earning her hyper-critical father’s approval. Still, she would search for a canvas when the night light turns off. By day, she is her father’s trophy. But at night, she is her mother’s daughter. Hers was a technical talent, lacking in her mother’s artistry - you needed a soul to put humanity on the tip of a paintbrush, and stroke genius. One ought not to be fooled by the liveliness of the Jimenez’s home - there is not a soul to be found. As the years trudged on, the unhappiness and instability of her parents’ marriage clung onto the slimmest of threads - Jack’s athletic success. It’s not long before gold and silver medals line their home. The accolades prove to be a commercial success, drawing benefactors and sponsors alike. A cash cow, a champion, a winner - it’s who Jack Devereux-Jimenez is destined to become.

At only twelve-years-old, she began her career as a professional athlete. By nineteen-years-old, it comes to a screeching end. All before ever making it onto the Olympic arena, no less. The mounting pressure, combined with a slow-recovering injury push Jack to performance enhancing drugs. Orange pill bottles smuggled in her leather satchel, pried open after each intensive session. A minor crutch, she argues, that would dissipate when the true competition began. Jack is a winner, but even winners need a push up the hilt. But when it comes to light, she is disbarred from competition. A name that verged on grandeur, blacklisted and forgotten. The sponsors and accolades follow, and so too does her loveless father. Her parents’ marriage is undone, and Marianne and Jack are thrust onto the world on their own. A great many disappointments come from the unraveling, but in some ways, Jack feels relief. She is free - from her father, the Jimenez name, and the volatility of their home. An estate that is sold to settle the family’s debts.

In the aftermath, the mother-and-daughter find their way to Paris, where Marianne’s expertise earns her a coveted spot as a curator for the Louvre. In the simplicity of their two bedroom apartment, Jack heals in the arms of her lost love - putting paint to canvas. A therapeutic act that allows her crutches to become awash. But Jack is not one for keeping still, for just getting by. She is flexible, malleable - and her thirst for excellence can be foregone, for more subdued passions. She builds a portfolio, leveraging her familiar name and inherent talent to earn her place in London’s coveted Royal College of Art. A welcome reprieve, too. The space between Jack and her mother felt smaller and smaller, as resentment simmers just below the velveteen words. Jack leaves for London, and four years later, accomplishes a Fine Arts Degree. The name, Jacqueline Devereux, embossed on the degree. It is a new moniker, for a new Jack.

At first, The National Gallery is the perfect fit. As an art restorer, she is surrounded by fantastical works that spoke to her cold heart. But Jack was never made for ordinary life, or the straight-and-narrow. She is made to win, to see the world, and to bring her own grandeur to life. When a ‘Woman With a Parasol; by Monet is brought to her for restoration, it takes all of five minutes for her studied eye to catch the misnomers. The subtle changes in stroke, the off hue in red, and the tightness in the lines. It was a counterfeit. An impressive one, but a counterfeit nonetheless. But it passes through chains of authentication, caught only by a junior art restorer in the basement of The National Gallery. When the falsity of the piece is brought to the committee’s attention, an investigation takes shape. Never mind the loss of history, the millions in loss it represented caught headlines. And Jack, centered at the eye of the storm. As she makes her leave from the studio in the late hour, footsteps follow her through London’s sleepy streets. They chased her down, nipping at her heels. She believed them to be the perpetrators, offended by Jack’s ability to catch them in the middle of their con. Instead, the mysterious and hooded figures claim their loyalties to Pantheon. Their arrival is not judgement, but the promise of heaven itself - a place where her staunch eye, careful hands, and athleticism could find value.

The swift but calculated decision comes easily, almost too easily. Her workplace comrades, apartment leases, and social media presence is abandoned within the month. She vanishes from her life, but she is not missed. And it’s that ingenuity, that malleability that prompts the committee to decide instinctively. Apollo, a “Jack” of All Trades. A perfect fit for a woman that simultaneously blends in and stands out. She is young, willing, and bountiful with potential. So, they build her up by breaking her down. They dismantle her skills to their bare bones; from starting off on a beam, to drawing shapes instead of restoring images. She is patient through the process, trusting in this new mold. Keen and willing, as her abilities evolve throughout the years. But it’s always been in her, deep as poison. It only needs to be drawn out.

In Jack, there is a light touch and a cold-cut sensibility. She lacks harsh lines or impassioned stances. Her motives for joining Pantheon are simple - Jack is a winner. At what, and against whom? Those were all just details. Nowhere else could pull together her expertise, and draw out the sleeping champion. Nowhere else would value the cold, vacant stare or the way attachment is rootless. She sees that - and she commits. Her specialized skill set, acting as transferable and valuable to each crew. In the years that follow, Jack evolves each of her skills. Her gymnastics turned invaluable in espionage and stealth - lithe form allowing her to blend seamlessly and without notice. No area too guarded, that her physicality cannot navigate through. Jack’s ability with a paintbrush and canvas make her a skilled counterfeiter, forging dummies for the Pantheon’s missions. And even her background of aristocracy proved beneficial. A number of learned languages, combined with her ability to mislead quickly cement her as the quintessential Apollo. She grows, until she is the grand beast that her father could only dream of. In seven years, her reputation within Pantheon’s ranks is one of cold disposition, married with a competitive venom. It’s perhaps the only time that those around her could scratch the surface - when one proved to gnaw at the insecure young girl behind the skilled woman. Despite her divisive attitude, she is adaptable and flexible to the nth degree. Poetically called Agent Monet, she is old world whimsy in a seemingly forgettable scene. A known pragmatist that leaves things as she finds it, as if she was never there at all.

[narastories]

Happy 291st Birthday, Lord John Grey! - A Natal Chart Reading for our dearest English Lord

This is very different from what I usually share here. By now you are all aware that we are celebrating the 291st birthday of Lord John Grey of Outlander.

For this occasion I took it upon myself to do a natal chart reading for him.

This is astrology applied to a fictional character, you have been warned. Continue at your own discretion.

Disclaimers:

I am not an astrologer

This is made in the spirit of appreciation of this character and his story. The purpose of this is pure fun on my part and hopefully to entertain some of you as well. Plus, maybe to provide some character-study-style insight or inspiration.

The character of Lord John Grey belongs to Diana Gabaldon - duh 

John’s birth date is canon. The time has been arbitrarily chosen by me. Yes, it is important, because there are a lot of moving parts to a natal chart. I have literally cycled through the day by the hour, compared charts and decided on the one that I’ve found most fitting to his character. Which, is by the way best practice, when you do not know your or someone else’s exact birth time, but are somewhat familiar with their character. And considering that even if our dearest Lord John were an actual historical figure, I’m pretty sure we wouldn’t have his exact birth time from 1729, so I don’t feel bad about my process.

The examples I may give here are both from the books and the show, but nothing too specific that would be considered spoiler.

Lastly, this is all my interpretation both about the astrological meanings and of his character. Feel free to disagree with me. Politely, if you please.

So, in good Outlander time-travelling fashion let’s transport ourselves back to the day Lord John Grey was born and look up to the sky to see what it has to tell us.

Sun in Gemini

Lord John is a Gemini, which makes him clever and witty. He takes pride in his intellect and uses it to reach his goals. He is extremely adaptable, and instantly finds his footing in the most various settings, whether that’s London’s high society, a remote village in Scotland, or a two week fishing trip in the wilderness of the Colonies.

As someone born under the sign of the Twins there is a natural duality to his personality, that we can observe many times. He is capable of great tenderness, yet he can also be extremely fierce. Brutal is perhaps not the right word, but as much as he is a gentleman, we do see him engaged in physical fight, where he is by no means unskilled. You can’t say it’s always self-defense either.

He often has an internal conflict between heart and mind, between duty and emotion.

Geminis make good actors, and Lord John is exceptional in that too. He has to be as a gay man in the 18th century, which creates another duality between the life he’s supposed to live as a solider and as a Lord, a respected member of high-society and all the things he craves but has to hide.

As a Gemini he is a great communicator. Good with people, small talk comes easy for him, but engaging in a deep intellectual conversation is what really fires him up (Shakespear, anyone? :P) He is pleasant to be around and has a good sense of humour. His skills are diverse and he makes friends easily as he moves from one adventure to the other.

Geminis are prone to restlessness, which Lord John demonstrates beautifully by fidgeting with every little knick-knack that accidentally lands between his well-manicured hands. (Why does he stash them away in his pockets? I’m afraid astrology has no answer for his accidental kleptomania.)

His Sun is in the Ninth House of mental and physical explorations. Long journeys of the mind and the body are prominent in his life and essential to his personality. He speaks multiple languages and uses them to express himself on a very personal and natural level - aka swearing in the language most appropriate to the level of shit he’s gotten himself into this time.

Libra Rising

His rising sign is Libra, which sheds light on how he presents himself and what he wants to be known for. People with Libra Ascendant have natural grace and a good style. Lord John has all of that and finds himself often in the spotlight for it. He doesn’t have to struggle to be successful, but more than anything he wants to be known as a kind and loving person, and I would argue he succeeds in that.

His rising sign is important, because his natal chart is ruled by Venus, the planet of love and beauty. He has a romantic nature, and has the ability to connect with anyone, anywhere at any given time.

Libra rising people are said to be very attractive and compatible with almost anyone and as we say around here Lord John Grey would have chemistry with a lamppost.

This doesn’t just extend to romantic partners, although he is the happiest when in a romantic relationship. He puts others at ease and is genuinely likeable.

He feels obligated to balance the situations he finds himself in, therefore he is a natural diplomat always striving to harmonize and negotiate. It also makes him a good listener.

He has a great sense of fairness and injustice angers him. He is social, has a generally positive outlook on life and is inspired by nature and art.

Moon in Aquarius

The moon sign represents the hidden side of someone’s personality, their emotions, their needs. It is also jokingly referred to as the “drunk you”, so let’s see who Lord John is after a few glasses of good Scottish whiskey.

At first glance there is nothing scandalous here, Aquarius is the most favorable sign for the Moon to be in. This gives him sensitivity and good perception. He tries to understand others’ perspective, and is rather idealistic.

However, people with the Moon in Aquarius are prone to sudden outbursts. How many times does he put his foot in his mouth and gets punched or called out to a duel for it? Yeah…

He can also push other’s over the edge emotionally, exactly because he is so perceptive, which actually does happen when he is drunk. This is not out of malice, but either out of pure authenticity or just because he knows it will get the other person out of a place of stagnation.

He hides a rebellious, progressive and unconventional soul under that well-tailored waistcoat of his and it does come out sometimes.

Ideally he needs to have a healthy outlet for this, a partner who appreciates his sometimes idiosyncratic nature and occasional eccentricities. In turn he won't flinch in the midst of the most challenging situations, because he’s not afraid of chaos.

He wants to find solutions that work for everyone and can neglect his own needs in the process.

If that wasn’t enough air for you, he also has a-

Grand Fucking Trine in the air signs

Which is a pretty big deal. (Moon in Aquarius - Pluto in Libra - Neptune and Mars in Gemini)

These influences all help and strengthen each other. He has a brilliant mind, his Intellect is exceptional, he has a deep concern for law and duty, and an unusually sharp sixth sense of unearthing shocking revelations.

He has a magnetic personality, great ability to express himself, and therefore leaves a lasting impression on others. He is able to inspire and lead others and his need for harmony and cooperation makes him a great negotiator.

Lots and lots of air influence, which also means that in the battle of the mind and the heart unfortunately the mind wins and he lets his heart break instead.

Let’s get back to Venus and love for a sec.

With this much air in the chart for him everything starts in the mind. He experiences desire in the mind first. He must have a great intellectual connection with someone, before their relationship could blossom into a romance (Venus in Gemini). His entry point to sex is also through words (Mars in Gemini). Think about all the witty foreplay and low-key dirty talk in the LJG books. And also, khm chess games...

Where does that occasional intensity and dominance come from, you ask?

Well, he does have Uranus in Scorpio (semisquare Venus in Gemini, semisquare his Sun in Gemini) which would explain why he is not always displaying the lighthearted, fun, fleeting ways of a Venus-in-Gemini lover. He does have a lot of sexual partners. But then we’ve already established that he would have chemistry with a lamppost.

His chart is heavy on the 9th and 10th houses of long distance travel, career and public standing, and these are probably the most important aspects of his life. He is a comparatively lucky person, with a lively social life, charming personality and strong morality (Jupiter in Cancer).

His great trauma lies in what squares Neptune and Mars in the 9th house. There is an opposition between his sexuality and dreams, and what ideas he is allowed to express publicly. He is sensitive to what others think (Mercury in Cancer), picks up signals very well and is therefore acutely aware of what he can and cannot say.

Here lies the greatest disappointment and loss in his life (Saturn in Pisces). He chooses to make personal sacrifices for the benefit of others.

His Chiron is in the 7th house of partnership and marriage, which I also find interesting. This minor planet get’s called the Wounded Healer. It makes me think about what Claire and Jamie says about wounds and Lord John. And it also makes me think about his marriage.

Well, if that doesn’t make for an interesting personality, I don’t know what does. I hope this has been at least half as fun to read as it was to write. Let me know what you think.

[killingeveperspectives]

Perspective: Can redeeming Villanelle make her character less iconic?

Have you ever heard of the Codex Gigas? Also known as ‘The Devil’s bible’, it is the largest illuminated manuscript in the world according to Wikipedia. It is told that a monk made a pact with the Devil himself and feverishly wrote the entire book in one night! As an acknowledgment to his partner he drew his monstrous figure in one of the pages. Said page looks different from the others, as if touched by some malignant magic. Today we know the reason for it: the page suffered the most deterioration for being the most exposed. For centuries people could not get enough of this character: The Devil. Indeed, we have codified ways to save ourselves from the metaphorical Devil – ourselves. We invented sins and crimes to tame something deeply primal within us. Freud called it id, the origin of all that which makes us tick: impulses, instinct, drives, libido. It reckons only two things: pleasure and satisfaction. If we could strip ourselves from all inhibition there would be impulse and sensation. It would be brutal ecstasy. But what would be of the world if all 7 billion of us would uncompromisingly seek to satisfy our impulses? Hell, so we don’t.

But through art we can glimpse at what this liberation would feel like. Some sort of existential voyeurism. Aristotle would call it catharsis, but what does he know? This is how some of the most remarkable characters were born, they mesmerize us by being their id – unapologetically, terrifyingly, charmingly – like the Devil himself. Characters like Hannibal Lecter, The Joker, Alex DeLarge; they are larger than life, unbind, amoral and extremely bright (and all male). Like Hannibal brilliantly put it in Silence of the Lambs: “Nothing happened to me, officer Starling, I happened” or like the perverted childlike Alex explain in A Clockwork Orange: “What I do I do because I like to do”. As simple as that. Pure satisfaction of impulse because they feel like it. When we, uneased by what they represent, want explanations or justifications, The Joker toys with us, always giving us a different version of his tragic background, as if he knew we want to give him an excuse and, in good joker fashion, he makes a huge joke out of it. They take it very seriously to explain to us what went wrong with them, because it doesn’t really matter.

While the id makes us organic, whole creatures, many attributes of it have been culturally dissociated from womanhood. The violent, self-preserving and egoistic impulses were replaced with nurturing, self-sacrifice and compassion – not surprisingly the only impulse afforded to women is motherhood (or sexual desire for the satisfaction of another). Therefore, women cannot fully materialize their humanity. These raging impulses feel alien to womanhood, something imposed on to them by circumstance so severe that it warps the nature of the female itself. Aggressive women are sad and broken, or vengeful, or mad, or sexualized – these are the portrayals we have been conditioned to expect from fiction. When compared to their male counterparts, even mild violence in a female character almost immediately requires an explanation: how someone betrayed them, or abused them, or they were conditioned into it. Rage and aggression are never theirs to own, it is always extrinsically sourced.

On a superficial level, the character of Villanelle doesn’t seem so unique. Immediately one could think of Nikita in La femme Nikita, who was a drug junkie teen, rescued and transformed into a cold-blooded femme-fatale assassin by the shadowy government group “The Centre” after they faked her death to break her from prison (Uncannily similar?). Or the movie Anna by the same writer, where a Russian girl accepts a KGB offer to be trained into an assassin in order to escape her abusive homelife. Or Marvel’s black widow who is also a Russian spy, apparently brainwashed by USSR to become an assassin. Other female assassins include The bride in Kill Bill who set off into a revenge killing spree after being brutally assaulted and left for dead, and other movies I vaguely remember about abused women becoming assassins to seek revenge, or shallow sexy female assassins with no purpose for existing other than being the sexy female assassin. However, all these characters were made into assassins by external factors. Villanelle is set apart from the typical femme-fatale assassin trope by owning her own joy of killing, by the rejection of the broken female narrative and the rejection of the objectifying male gaze. In order to unmistakably ground these traits alienated from women – violence, disregard, cruelty, indifference, sadism, risk-taking – in her nature, the character was written as a primary psychopath. Being an assassin fits her natural talents, not the other way around    

Villanelle could occupy a very special place among a roster of remarkable fictional characters like the ones mentioned earlier. She is the female embodiment of absolute, remorseless indulgence and rage, representing the unashamed satisfaction of women’s impulses, for her own enjoyment alone, with style and wit – A truly magnetic character and fresh perspective. In psychopathic Villanelle, women are allowed to reclaim these violent impulses, which is oddly empowering and humanizing. Give us that. Brilliantly, the cathartic element is mirrored by Eve herself. Eve too sees her unfulfilled and alienated impulses incarnated in Villanelle, which in turn sparks Eve’s exploration of her own identity. Ultimately Villanelle’s seduction to embrace impulse despite its danger is at the core of their electric attraction and conflict.

Thus, by retconning Villanelle in Season 3, the character no longer represents the provoking embodiment of female drive, managing to become an elevated female assassin trope, at best. The challenging take on womanhood, instead plays into all of the expectations. Villanelle is no longer a female true to her nature that gets a kick from being an assassin; but a troubled girl, tortured into becoming a killing machine by a past of abuse. A broken woman who rejects the violence instilled into her once she finds healing. Interestingly, it is not that she merely chooses not to kill but she is unable to carry on the act, signifying the deeper alienation of the violent impulse from her own self – the same impulse that once made her so iconic. This lack of impetus to kill is but a symptom of the decreased character’s libido in general: fewer shopping sprees, less savory eating, less unpretentious playfulness, less color, less eroticism, less aggression, less danger. Unfortunately, it also means the weakening of her dynamic with Eve. Villanelle is being tamed, and its well… not her best take.

We, the audience, perceive this lack of vitality oozing into the entire show, but once you shift what Villanelle represents this is inevitable. Villanelle becomes mundane, and it brings the nostalgia of the force of nature she once was. It leaves a similar taste as the brutal transformation of Alex from despicable nihilistic hedonist into a model citizen in A clockwork orange: a conflicted perverted sadness at the loss of Alex’s authenticity despite him turning into a “better” human being – ingeniously, his redemption was to gain his despicable impulses back. 

The initial character design of Villanelle was something unique and authentic. However, In the process of redeeming her, she might become a new iteration of a trope explored several times that simply reflect the current space of female characters and lack conceptual originality. Yet, there is still room for the recuperation of Villanelle’s transgressive power: a subversive redemption. By incorporating the impulsive indulgence and violence back into the character, Villanelle’s arc can be taken somewhere new, complex and truly special. A remarkable character we can’t get enough of – like the Devil herself.

[myaekingheart]

Thoughts on Writing Trauma in [Fan]Fiction

For some reason, I’ve been thinking a lot about the inclusion of trauma in fiction, namely fanfiction. It’s one of those things that so often pops up in fic but just because it’s done often doesn’t necessarily mean it’s done well. I feel like this is especially true for writing original characters.

Precursory trigger warning for speaking about, you know, trauma (suicide, self harm, eating disorders, death, etc.) in depth. As you can probably already predict from the title. Full text under the cut for brevity’s sake. 

Traumatic experiences and backstories are like this rite of passage in fanfiction. Most everyone’s earliest original characters are always given the most heartbreaking, terrible backstories possible because we, as authors, think that that will make our readers more sympathetic to them. I say this as someone who is definitely guilty of this myself. And this is all well and good--some of the most popular mainstream characters come from terrible backstories. It can help explain why characters do what they do and act the way that they act when they are first introduced in a story, and provide space to allow them to grow and evolve throughout the plot (for better or for worse). 

I think the issue in giving a character a traumatic backstory, however, lies in the way that this is presented. So often I feel like tragic backstories are used to try and force readers to empathize with and love a character. It’s the almost overbearing sense of “please love me” that I think can cheapen the effect of this developmental tactic. You can’t force an audience to love a character and laying it on thick with why the audience should love your character often seems to do the exact opposite. Readers don’t like to be told what to do or what to think or who to root for. Your character has to prove that they are worth rooting for, or not, based on the way that their past influences their present and the fate of their future. A character who was neglected by their parents as a child is obviously going to be desperate for affection, but think about how it makes them desperate. Do they find themselves constantly in abusive relationships because they are willing to take whatever they can get from whoever will dish out “love” to them, regardless of whether it’s healthy or not? Or because they find comfort in a sense of abuse based on past experiences? Or in contrast, do they push everyone away because they are terrified of letting themselves be loved and opening themselves up to getting hurt again? I know every writing class ever always harps on the “show, don’t tell” but this is one case where I feel like it’s really important. Readers are not stupid. We don’t need to be told straightforward why a character is doing what they’re doing, and sometimes laying everything about a characters past out from the get-go can even dampen the allure of your character. Let the readers learn about the character at the same pace that they would let someone else learn about them. Human beings don’t give away their entire life story in one sitting, and your character shouldn’t, either. 

Not only are traumatic backstories so common in fiction, but so are traumatic plotlines. It’s fun to put your characters through hell! It’s fun to break them down and see them at their lowest, when they are left with nothing. After all, conflict is the gasoline which fuels the car of your story and sometimes you never really know what a character is capable of until you break them. I feel like the most symbolic and succinct way to describe this is through that quote “Your characters are like geodes. If you want to see what they're really made of, you have to break them.” However, trauma is a tricky subject. There is a fine line between being authentic and meaningful in dissecting traumatic experiences and laying it on too heavy for the sake of being edgy. I feel like that’s another mistake so many early writers make: feeling as if you have to put your character through ten layers of hell in order for the audience to care about them, too. But this is a dangerous game and trauma is a very personal thing. You don’t want to write insensitively about something very significant at the risk of alienating or even maddening the communities that have personal experience with whatever trauma you’re exploring--if you haven’t experienced it yourself, too, that is. I am a huge supporter of using fiction as catharsis for coping with and processing trauma and anything else troubling that you as a writer may be dealing with, and every situation is different so of course your specific experience will not fit everyone’s narrative of how that trauma may transpire. And if you have been through this sort of thing personally, of course you can be trusted with writing candidly and authentically about it because those are your experiences and no one can steal those from you! You deserve to approach the subject in whatever manner you feel is best for both the story and your own mental wellbeing. For those aiming to write about trauma that they don’t have personal experience with, however, it is so important to write these scenarios with respect. Please do your research, read personal accounts and familiarize yourself with all the ins and outs of what you’re aiming to write. Read up on what it’s like to attempt suicide, what happens after a failed suicide attempt or self harm gone wrong, what to do when you suffer a miscarriage, what grief feels like, what a panic attack feels like, the challenges that chronically ill people face every day and the things that can go wrong when we have flare-ups or are not given the accessibility we need. Don’t trigger yourself, of course, but make sure you are well informed so that you can write trauma in a way that is respectful and authentic. 

I am also not going to sit here and tell you not to stack trauma onto a character in a story. I know that life happens and sometimes multiple bad things pile up all at once. Fiction is no different and it’s certainly not uncommon to see a string of bad things befall a character in a story, either. The thing that is important to consider with this, however, is not only respect and authenticity but the way in which these sorts of things would realistically affect someone. The domino effect should feel believable.

For example: character A gets a phone call that character B, their best friend and love of their life, has unexpectedly been killed. This is a traumatic experience enough on it’s own, and the story deserves to explore this character’s consequent grief as they try to navigate their life with this massive hole in their heart now. Perhaps the last thing that character B told character A was something about unwavering support for A in the pursuit of their lifelong dream, something that holds weight and that the grief of losing B can serve as both an obstacle and a motivator for achieving. Familiarize yourself with the after effects and symptoms of mourning in order to write character A’s grief as authentic. Say, for example, they are having trouble sleeping. They are constantly tired but can never fall asleep when they want. They are driving somewhere a few days later and begin dozing off at the wheel. They subsequently get into a nasty car accident. Character A ends up in the hospital with severe but not life-threatening injuries--injuries that completely erase any and all hope of character A ever achieving their dream. What does this loss feel like? How heavy is the betrayal in their chest after having felt so determined to fight against the grief weighing them down in order to accomplish their goals for the sake of character B’s memory? Consider the emotions. Consider the anger and the hopelessness and the depression. Consider what your character decides to do about this. Consider how your character attempts to cope. Perhaps they turn to self harm. Perhaps they feel that the only way that they can manage the pain that they feel is by cutting. Maybe they even think that if they make themselves bleed, it will give an outlet for all of the pain that’s stirred up inside of them. Maybe they even feel as if that pain is deserved, as if everything is their fault (whether it realistically is or not). Maybe they revel in the pain, maybe it becomes the only thing that keeps them sane even if they logically understand that this is unhealthy and dangerous. And maybe their emotions get the better of them and they accidentally take things too far. They accidentally attempt suicide and wake up in the very same hospital they were in when they got into the car accident. The very same hospital where character B was also pronounced dead. Focus on what this means for the character and the story. We as the audience should be able to understand why this character felt like it was necessary to do what they did and what they were feeling in the moment of having made that decision, as well as how having failed will influence and effect them moving forward. That progression should be clear and visible, it should be easy for the audience to track and follow the plot of. 

And while writing trauma can be fun and interesting, on the same note of authenticity it is also important to ensure that we are not glorifying trauma, either. We should not be presenting these situations as fabulous deaths and drama. Trauma is a very real and very heavy thing that should be handled with care for the sake of respecting both the characters and the readers. Readers who have gone through similar trauma should not feel as if their struggles are being written as a joke or not taken seriously. They should be able to empathize with the character even if the struggles presented in the story do not exactly mirror their own. Like I said before, the trauma should be believable. And readers who do not have experience with these subjects should not feel inspired by the trauma itself. It is one thing to present a character who is perseverant despite their setbacks, who pushes forward even when it would be easier to quit, and even when they want to quit, but it is another thing entirely to present a character who glamourizes these struggles. A character with an eating disorder should not be seen as an aspiration for thinness and a character who self harms should not be seen as “edgy” and “cool” for hurting themselves. If we are going to write about trauma, we should accept the responsibility that comes with writing subjects in a way that is respectful and authentic rather than glamourizing trauma.

We as writers, however, should not accept the responsibility of censoring ourselves for the sake of a reader’s preference, by the way. We can include trigger warnings and tags all we want, and I think we ought to for the sake of being responsible and letting our readers know exactly what kind of story they are getting into, but that’s just the thing. The reader should know what kind of story they are getting into, but if they click on something with explicit warnings/tags that they know are going to trigger them and continue reading anyway then that is on them and not us. We should not have to completely omit trauma and other taboo/sensitive subjects from our writing for the sake of purity culture. 

And on one more note in terms of the inclusion of trauma in fiction itself, also consider how a character’s trauma affects the people around them. How does a character’s suicide attempt affect their best friend? Does their mother recognize their disordered eating behavior? Is their mother the reason behind their disordered eating behavior? Does the character’s love interest cock a brow at them wearing a hoodie in summer and grow curious as to what they’re hiding? And even more: how do the people around your character influence or inspire or motivate them to get better? Or not? Are they steadfastly loyal and determined to help your character through their pain? Or do they feel as if it is not their responsibility to shoulder your character’s burdens and they would rather exit from their life completely? Your character does not exist in a vacuum, so it is important to consider not just the way in which they respond to the world around them because of their trauma, but also the way in which the world responds to them because of their trauma. Let your character exist in conversation with their universe and their social circle. Let your character’s trauma barge in and create a big, looming, unwelcome presence. Let your character work through their trauma in a way that feels believable, and let the people in your character’s life respond to that in a way that feels believable, too. 

Overall, just approach trauma with respect and authenticity. Create characters that feel real and believable. Don’t try to force your audience to love your character but rather work to create a character that is dimensional and messy like real people. Let your audience learn your character in the same way that we learn about other people in real life. Let their past trauma influence the way they act in the present and the way they exist within their world and among the people in their life. Do your research, be candid and honest, and above all handle with care. 

*Note that I am of course not the end all be all and I do not consider myself some sort of wealth of writing knowledge. I am only writing based on my own personal experiences and things I’ve gleaned from both college-level creative writing courses as well as both reading and writing fiction, specifically fanfiction, for years. 

[worbiestuff]

COVID-19 PERSONAL EXPERIENCE

COVID-19, Coronavirus, is an infectious disease caused by a newly discovered corona virus. It is spread or transmitted through droplets generated when an infected person coughs, sneezes or exhales. These droplets are too heavy to hang in the air and quickly fall to the floor or surfaces. Some common symptoms include fever, dry cough, and tiredness, loss of smell and taste, headache and so on.

From a personal perspective on how COVID-19 affected me, I would say it did so in a lot of ways; education-wise, economically, physically, mentally etc.

The first confirmed COVID-19 case in Ghana was on the 12th of March, 2020. At the time, school hadn’t reopened but was in the process of doing so. Because of this, the president instructed that we were all supposed to vacate the school/hostel premises to our various homes, signifying all studies and academics to come to an end. We ended up studying online which brought so many pros and cons, which in the end the cons outweighed the pros. Bad internet restricted me from joining classes sometimes. I wasn’t understanding most stuff being taught because most of the courses were practical. Plus, I ended up missing some due dates for my assignments and had to beg or ask permission from some lecturers to finish them up because I had to balance house chores with school work because I was obviously home and couldn’t shun them because it’s my responsibility. Also, I had divided attention because of my siblings. I have a large family and it wasn’t helping me at all coupled with the online studies. In the middle of a class, I could be called to go on an errand or just have my little siblings running around for running arounds sake. It was one hell I had to go through.

COVID-19 also affected me economically. I manage my mom’s businesses for her sometimes and during the COVID-19 period everything was literally on me. My mom sells clothes. We weren’t having as much sales as we’d have if we weren’t on lockdown. Most people weren’t purchasing clothes because there were no new occasions. Weddings, funerals, parties and the rest had been halted too. I remember a friend mentioning to me that even if she bought clothes she had nowhere to take it to so she’d rather not buy, and this was really bad because there was not as much cash flow as there was without the pandemic and the lockdown.

My movement was also restricted because of the pandemic. We stayed home for almost a year. Months without stepping outside, no church services, parties, no visitations, etc. I was not allowed outside the main gate because of this and it got boring. I was just doing or following a particular pattern or routine every day for months; wake, house chores, eat, online class, sleep, and repeat. I got tired of the routine, I got tired of being online, I got tired of being stuck inside, and I got tired of everything at a point. It got so boring but there was nothing I could do about it. I wanted to stay alive.

 My plans on travelling was tarnished. My family and I had plans on travelling during the Easter for the most famous festival of the year which was always held in Kwahu; “KWAHU OO KWAHU! This is like a ritual we always perform, going to my mom’s hometown for the festival, paragliding, hiking and having a lot of fun but this year we were restricted as the festival itself was even cancelled, prior to the president’s address to the nation. I mean we got really sad, especially my little siblings but we had to do our part, to help curb the pandemic in order to stay safe.

Despite the negative impacts it came with, I can never forget the good it did by bonding me with my friends and families. Even though my family is large, nobody really stays at home. My dad is a business man and is always travelling up and down because of the nature of his job. My mom on the other hand left home really early and came back really late, we could go a whole week without seeing her. My older siblings too hardly stayed home because they were working. Since the president announced the lockdown, we were all brought together. Our big family was back. I was seeing my dad more often, my mom and older siblings too. We would mostly gather around in the hall, watch movies or just discuss random stuff and it felt good. On the other hand I bonded well with my friends too because we were all online. Our old high school groups became more active, we were reminiscing on old times and laughing hard at old pictures. Though it was online and not physical, it felt good and real because I hadn’t spoken to some of them in years but we got bonded and more close because of the pandemic.

THE ARTIST WHO INSPIRED ME

EMMA HARDY

Based in London, Emma Hardy is well practiced in capturing the nuances of everyday life. Her images reflect an often unnoticed drama behind the scenes. Coming from a theatrical background and having worked as an actress herself before focusing on photography, Emma cites her fascination with people’s behaviour, the tensions, interactions and quirky humour, as a driving energy in her work.

Mainly self-taught Emma prefers to work with natural or available light, “I try not to impose much technique or too much of myself on my subjects.” As such, there’s a hallmark honesty to her work. Her images are infused with a believable sense of being, her portraits are intimate and unselfconscious. Tilda Swinton, Natalia Vodianova, Noomi Rapace, Michael Fassbender and Stella McCartney have sat for her, among others.

Emma finds inspiration in the chaos and unexpected beauty of life, the less seen moments in between. For each commercial client she challenges herself to bring her sense of authenticity to a necessarily constructed commercial brief, “I photograph with my heart engaged, and however manufactured an instance in photography, the test is to bring soul into commerce”. Describing her aesthetic as raw but tender, Emma finds beauty in imperfection, and polish in the detail of everyday life. And through her lens, the most ordinary moments seem steeped in romance and intrigue, as if her subjects are characters in a movie playing in her head.

WORKS

WHAT APPEALED TO ME

MOODS

Emma Hardy likes capturing the everyday nuances of life or everyday moods of life. Her images are natural and sometimes unplanned. Working with people’s behavioral manners, interactions, attitudes, etc. She tries to make her work as natural as possible and puts her heart into what she photographs, as she stated herself in a commercial brief.

 COLOUR

Emma Hardy likes to work with natural or available light.

 THE PLAN/THOUGHT PROCESS FOR THE WORK

The initial plan of the whole work was to create something like differences, get a picture of my sister and I if possible or do a clone of myself since we already look alike and are twins. This idea was to put across a message that conveys tolerance and bonding even though we’re two different people with different personalities but still twins. Later the plan changed because of certain unforeseen circumstances. This time I aimed at creating the same differences but this time with a ball, to one part would be edited as if it were night time or dark, and the other would be left with the natural light, to show daytime. This was to signify that the sun gives the moon light, and even though they are two different bodies, the needed each other. Same applies with my sister and I, each one of us has our own sides, but we need each other to be around. The final plan after a few criticisms from my lecturer was to do the Chinese symbol yin and yang.

The principle of Yin and Yang is that all things exist as inseparable and contradictory opposites, for example, female-male, dark-light and old-young. The two opposites of Yin and Yang attract and complement each other and, as their symbol illustrates, each side has at its core an element of the other (represented by the small dots). Neither pole is superior to the other nor, as an increase in one brings a corresponding decrease in the other, a correct balance between the two poles must be reached in order to achieve harmony. Personally, I feel this symbol best describes us as twins because even though we are opposites we attract and complement each other. We have tiny traits in each other. And at the core of one another, we are represented by each other.

 SKETCHES, PINTEREST INSPIRATION, MOODBOARD

FIRST DRAFT WORK

FINAL WORK

TITLE

FOUND THE GOOD INSIDE THE BAD.

I chose this title because the corona happening was a bad thing that hit us all, but even in that bad, there was a little good; me bonding with my family, especially my sister was the good.

[hearingaidsandtea]

Hiya! I'm new here but I love your aesthetic! I'm a hearing person, but I'm working on a comic with a deaf character. I know from experience with ADHD how annoying it is when people overdramatize portayals of a disability so I very much want to avoid that, and I was wondering if you had any thoughts on things to avoid in that regard? (1/2)

ALSO, the story is sci-fi and the character has advanced hearing aids, are there any features/improvements you think we should make to hearing aids in coming centuries (2/2) (I realize the latter is kind of a weird question so feel free to ignore but I figured it might be a good idea to get a user's perspective)

Hi friend, thank you for your kind words! First off, thank you so much for wanting to be accurate! It means a lot that you’re taking the time to find out what you can to make your characters true to life. I apologize for the delay on this. I hope I’m still able to offer some help. This is pretty lengthy as I wanted to cover as much as possible, so I’ve put the bulk of it under the cut! I’m actually am going to start with the end of your question first as it ties into your first question quite well! One thing I get frustrated with is seeing how others who don’t have hearing aids, or who have no experience with those who do, pretty much butcher our technology. XDI am going to link you to a post I wrote on accommodations as accommodations (and the accuracy of them) can make or break how authentic a story feels: On AccommodationsI doubt that as hearing aids get better that our accommodations will change all that much. Many of us will still need subtitles, we’ll always need ways to be alerted to dangers, and we’ll need good forms of communication (telephones, texting, etc.). How that stuff looks in the future or in a sci-fi world is totally up to you! After all, hearing aids are a kind of accommodation.

In regards to hearing aids:I think the best way to avoid mistakes is to know what kinds of hearing aids there are and what kinds of people (typically) wear them. All hearing aids work on the basic principle of taking sound and amplifying it close to the eardrum. Also! Something that I think a lot of people forget/don’t realize is that sometimes you only need one hearing aid. Let’s say someone has perfect hearing in their right ear, but a hearing loss in their left. They would wear a hearing aid in their left ear, and that would help.  Ok, so first things first, there are a number of different hearing aids. Behind the Ear (BtE) ones are the most common. These have a mold or a dome that goes in the ear while the computer that takes in and processes the sound is behind the ear (thus the name). The battery that runs the hearing aid hangs out with the computer behind the ear. Those of us with a bigger hearing loss have these as they are much more powerful. A mold is more beneficial than just the dome, as it can capture/direct more sound. Domes are paired with smaller BtE parts (usually called “mini” BtE, they are usually a little thinner and always a fair bit shorter). The hearing aids are strong, but not as strong as larger BtE hearing aids. Then you have the in the ear hearing aids. I have absolutely no experience with these fellows, aside from seeing what my grandparents wore. These hearing aids are much smaller and go directly into the ear. The computer, battery, all of it is in one little place, and all goes in the ear. These are fully concealed. Apparently there’s some variation of this, ones that go in-the-ear (ItE), in-the-canal (ItC), and completely-in-canal (CiC). While I can’t tell you much about this, I do know that the deeper the hearing aid goes, the closer it is to the eardrum which allows for more accurate sound. Here are two links to hearing aid brands I’ve used in the past: Phonak and Signia. Hopefully they’ll help give you a better idea of what hearing aids can (and can’t) do, and what they can look like! No matter what kind of hearing aid you (or in this case your character) has, hearing aids do not hurt to put in. The only time they hurt to put in is if you put them in too quickly and shove them in too deep. If someone has had their hearing aids all their life this isn’t gonna happen that often. But trust me, when it does and if you hit your eardrum there will be cursing involved XD  (personal experience). What we have and how to improve it: + Bluetooth! Ok, so I don’t personally use this (cause it drains the battery so quickly), but many hearing aids now a days have the ability to be programed/paired with Bluetooth. This allows us to take phone calls, watch TV, listen to the radio, and have it all go directly to our ears/hearing aids. This gives us more pure and accurate sound. I don’t see this going anywhere. I think that eventually this would be the norm, and batteries would be much more powerful to keep up with it. + Custom programing is done to any hearing aid you get through your audiologist. After the hearing test the audiologist will customize the hearing aid’s program to match your hearing loss. Obviously I don’t see this going anywhere, but I do see it being improved upon! I think it would be super awesome if the hearing aids kept track of what sounds were caught/missed. So for example, if my hearing aid catches the sound of a person saying “sh” and I don’t respond to it, my hearing aid would keep track of that. When I go back to the audiologist they’d be able to plug the hearing aid into the computer, see where my hearing is based on data collected. They could then tweak the hearing aid programing based on that data. Not a thing, but daggum that would be cool.  What I would like to see: + One super cool thing those of us with BtE hearing aids have is the ability to customize them. Now, we do have to go to our audiologist and ask them to customize the look to our desired color/pattern. It would be neat if we could take out that middle-man and click a button on our hearing aid and change it to whatever color we want. + Currently, hearing aids are not waterproof. I’ve been caught in downpours without an umbrella and it’s made my hearing aids short out. Waterproof hearing aids would be the best and coolest thing ever! I’d love to eventually see that and get to the point where showering, swimming, and going for runs in the rain wouldn’t impact the hearing aids. I know this was a wall of text, and no doubt a long wait. I hope it was worth it though and that you find it helpful! Feel free to ask more questions or for clarification. I’d love to see what you come up with in regards to your comic! Best of luck on it!

[kaserabazar]

Things You Should Consider When Choosing a Best CBSE School for Your Child

There is a long list of points that you need to consider before choosing the best CBSE School for your child. It takes the right amount of research and study about an institute before you finalize it as a 2nd home for your child for more than a coming decade. Since there is a long list of CBSE Schools in Indore, it becomes crucial to evaluate every one of them on every single point before you conclude.

 Here, we will not only help you to understand the points which you should consider in the school evaluation process, but we will also tell you about how to find admission to the best CBSE School in Indore. Let’s go through the list of the important points and learn a thing or two about the great educational institute of Indore.

 1.     Fee Structure:

There is a misconception that the best CBSE schools in Indore have the most expensive fee structure. Parents believe ‘higher the fees, higher the facilities’. This is why people have started to measure the quality of education in an institute, based on the amount of fee being charged by students. As a result, due to lack of knowledge and research, many people fall for the con and end up paying a higher fee than required for educating their children in a CBSE School.

Kasera Bazaar on the other end provides a pocket-friendly fee structure to parents so that every child gets the quality education that they deserve. So, if you are looking for a good CBSE school in Indore with low fees, Kasera Bazar Vidya Niketan should be the first choice.  

 2.     Infrastructure & facilities:

Kasera Bazar Vidya Niketan is recognized as the best CBSE school in Indore in the Gumasta Nagar region. It has the richest infrastructural facilities and everything that one can look for in a good CBSE School. The building has its own Chemistry Lab, Biology Lab, Physics Lab, Computer Lab, and much more. To meet the needs of the modern education system, many classrooms have even been converted into Smart classes using top-quality digital screens, projectors, and sound systems.

There is a large playground, a well-equipped book library, art & craft room, music room, and much more, where students spend the non-studious time, trying to explore their interests and talents. The school even provides a balanced diet in form of lunch. For that, KBVN has a large, clean, and hygienic mess too.

 3.     Curriculum:

It’s difficult to find a CBSE School in Indore which considers the intellectual, social, emotional, and motor skill development of students as important. In an ever-changing, dynamic world, it is important to adapt to newer methods and techniques. 

Being a Top CBSE School in Indore, Kasera Bazar Vidya Niketan follows the exact curriculum as suggested by the NCERT. Their academic program focuses on practical learning through implementation and execution. While the syllabus is pre-defined by the NCERT, the school tries to bring things alive in the minds of the students through activity-based-learning. Their teaching methods are oriented towards building intellectual, social, emotional, and motor skills in children by using the latest teaching technologies, methods, and contemporary tools.

 4.     Extra-curricular:

The best CBSE School in Indore would be the one where education is not the only focus. It’s important to understand that in this world of versatile opportunities, any art, any sport or any interest can be pursued professionally. Hence, a great CBSE school would be the one where comprehensive and holistic development is the focus. 

As discussed earlier, Kasera Bazar Vidya Niketan has a great sports area, a well-equipped art & craft room, music room, and other activity areas too. The daily classroom schedule in the school has specific time slots, where students get time to cherish their interests in one or more of the interests such as outdoor sports, musical instruments, painting, sketching, dancing, singing, etc. This also allows them to interact with their classmates in a different manner which helps them explore each other’s hidden talents as well. 

 5.     Teacher to Student Ratio:

A significant aspect that differs the Top CBSE schools in Indore from the others is that the formers maintain a lower Teacher-to-student ratio. It is a trend in many schools to stuff classrooms with a higher number of students and bag more fees while trying to save the teaching expenses. As cheap and unrealistic it may sound, it is the story of many schools in the Indore.

On the other hand, Kasera Bazar Vidya Niketan maintains a lower teacher-to-student ratio of 1:25 for Nursery to 3rd Standard Classes and 1:35 for classes of 4th to 12th standard. At KBVN, they believe in the philosophy that a teacher is a student’s 2nd parent. The lower teacher-to-student ratio helps in executing individually-focused teaching techniques. This enables in development of a better understanding between the teacher and student. As a result, a teacher becomes a great guide for their children in every aspect of life. 

 6.     The proximity of Premises:

As less-significant as it may sound, the proximity of the premises from the residence of the students becomes a significant factor to consider overtime. The students get tired when it comes to traveling to and from school premises. They feel tired and exhausted during the commuting process. And you sincerely do not want that to happen because this eventually results in a loss of interest in school.

But you will be cheered to know that this is not at all a problem for Kasera Bazar Vidya Niketan. The school offers safe, sanitized, and comfortable bus-service to the students. The bus routes cover the major areas of Indore. The students just have to find a stop to the nearest location and they will be picked from and dropped at the same spot every day. This way, KBVN ensures the utmost commuting comfort of every student. 

 7.     Safety, Sanitization, Hygiene:

Frankly speaking, post COVID-19 scenario, the best School in Indore would be the one that puts safety, sanitization, and hygiene on top. After a whole year of struggling and trying to hide from the deadly virus contamination, everyone has now become highly conscious about following the significant precautions which would reduce the chances of getting infected.

At Kasera Bazar Vidya Niketan, sanitization, security, and hygiene are always prioritized. Not only post COVID-19, but the school has been ensuring an extremely hygienic and safe environment on the premises for years. From classrooms to mess areas, from laboratories to toilets, everything is cleaned with the best quality disinfectants. The WHO suggested COVID-19 precautions are also bound to be followed in the premises including wearing masks, maintain social distancing, and sanitizing hands from time to time. 

 8.     History of the institute: 

History is only created by legends. If the institute you are looking forward to, has recently begun its operations, then its authenticity may be questionable. The founders may have zero experience of running a school, the teaching staff may be less experienced, and much more. A well-renowned school is the one which has a reputation and a history behind it. 

Kasera Bazar Vidya Niketan has a legacy of more than 35 years in Indore. The institute is being run successfully under the guidance of renowned personalities of the city. These legends tend to pave the path of success for the forth-coming generation. The school’s alumni have created their individual history by making Indore’s name shine in the national and international skies as well. With such a strong background and a famishing history, KBVN is one of the finest choices of thousands of families as a 2nd home for their child. 

 9.     Parent-Teacher Relationship:

As discussed earlier, Kasera Bazar Vidya Niketan, the Best CBSE School in Indore pursues the philosophy that a teacher is a student’s 2nd parent. The reason being, a student spends a significant amount of time in school, under the supervision of their teachers. Similarly, the way they are taken care of by their parents at home. However, the two observe the child in a different scenario.

Since, both the aspects, domestic as well as school behavior is important in the development of a child, KBVN makes sure an effective, two-way communication between the teacher and the parents. This is to make sure that both of them share their observations and perceptions about the child with each other and help in a more streamlined enhancement of his or her skillset.

 10.   Core values:

The way a teacher is a 2nd parent, a school is a child’s 2nd home. The overall character of a young one is majorly based on the environment they are raised in, the values they are taught and the morals they are incarnated with. Kasera Bazar has always based its education system on ethical grounds.

The school staff makes sure to maintain an environment where the students learn to respect each other’s values and learn from each other in the best possible manner. They make the student's society ready by inculcating them with such wisdom that drives them to become a person of their principles. This is why, at KBVN, the list of game-changing alumni is longer than usual.

 We think your search for the best CBSE School in Indore should end here and now you know, which the future 2nd home of your child is. So, if you want to pay a visit to the premises of the school, this is the address: 

Kasera Bazar Vidya Niketan CBSE School

Sector C, Scheme No. 71, Gumasta Nagar,

Indore, Madhya Pradesh.

Although, you can also book an appointment or enquire about your queries by contacting the school through the below details:

Phone: 0731-2480109 | 0731-4247460 | 0731-2481157

Email: info@kaserabazarschool.in

Also, you can visit their website by clicking here and have an overview of their facilities and curriculum.

 Website: https://kaserabazarschool.in