▐▒ GHOST ⁽ᵃᵘᵗᵒᵖˡᵃʸ⁾

to put it bluntly, i’m not feeling the spark here. i’ve been playing bucky for over a year now and as much as i love playing bucky and i feel comfortable writing him, i feel unhealthily tethered to him, and me staring at drafts for hours without writing a word isn’t doing anything for me, so i’m gonna hang him up for a while. if i feel a spark of muse to do a reply, you can bet your ass i’ll write it !! but i doubt that’ll happen for a while, so in the meantime you can find me on WILL GRAHAM.

some part of me says that i should apologize, but at the same time, this is for me. this is a hobby, and it’s meant to be stress-relieving. i have no obligation to anyone to write on bucky, and honestly, i’d rather give myself a chance to write another muse, to open up new creative routes. i hope you guys can respect this and me for putting drafts here on hold until further notice.

compromisedasset.

❛  WATER. ❜

       she’s hunched over slightly, one palm pressed to her        thigh while the other hand runs over her chapped lips.        looking up at the stranger, voice a thick rasp, she tries        to straighten as best she can.

❛ you got any?  ❜

          sand has wriggled its way into every pore, the ASHES of a world once known, now stranded amidst SWELLS of static CLOGGING his mind. take note of the preoccupation with SURVIVAL on this godforsaken planet, already so FAR from redemption so dire. each tread drops in hope of a sense of DIRECTION, but every familiar COMPASS has perished, left to BAKE under a relentless sun : blistering, BROILING. the flesh of unidentified SILHOUETTES emerging from the depths of his BATTERED soul has undoubtedly ROTTED beneath the very ground he WALKS for decades. those who travel the SURFACE struggle to surpass barren tongues, and stomachs vacant SATCHELS ——— just as the one FASHIONED at his hip, sought-after water, however meager, SLOSHING within.

             a brief FLASH of consideration of PARSIMONY passes over his features, only to be SMOTHERED ; sins BLACKEN his heart, and though self-interest may DRIVE him to make sense of this WASTELAND, to locate the people he THINKS he knows, good FORTUNE cannot be found if he displays the GREED of an immortan. the makeshift canteen is passed over, held by the strap as if on a FRAGILE string ( and the cries of the deceased echo PUPPET ) .

                                                           ❝ some. ❞

            words CRACKLE upon a parched tongue.

okay, guys, i think it's that time again for me to clean out drafts. i'm keeping things that i am still interested in and have muse for. included in this list are things i owe ; anything that you might owe me is NOT going to be dropped as of right now !! please be aware that just because i drop a thread with you doesn't mean i no longer want to thread with you at all. if i drop a thread with you and you want to start a new thing, just let me know !!  i also have starters in my drafts ( all of which i will be keeping, because i don't let starters go unanswered, even if it's been a while since you wrote it for me ) , as well as memes that i sent in that i plan on replying to. all memes in the inbox are going to be deleted as well. many apologies. without further ado, the threads i will be KEEPING are under the cut.

                             ◜ compromisedasset liked ✰

                         ❛    are you alright  ?     ❜

          rich shades of autumn run their course from shallow GRAZES upon battered skin, splotched by deepening plum. he GREETS each injury like a friend, intensifying aches and pains more FAMILIAR than the last set, mostly healed from RECENT close encounters. shaking HANDS with hardship comes as naturally as the HEAVE of lungs starving for air, for WHAT is a WEAPON without the BRUTALITY it was born in ? regardless of how DESPERATELY his heart may wish to find PEACE at last, his body and mind have been MOLDED to serve no other PURPOSE as fulfilling as this, and REDEMPTION can be found in the blood that stains his hands today .

                        ❛ guessin' that the answer's lookin' a little QUESTIONABLE to you.                                                               ——— trust me when i say i've felt worse. ❜

            scarred flesh serves as VIOLENCE'S canvas to create a MASTERPIECE of monstrosity, skin battered and WORN in every which way, SPLATTERED with the evidence that he indeed a KILLER. to have a WITNESS to his lack of remorse when DELIVERING perpetrators straight to death's door is ANYTHING but gratifying. he has proof enough that this is NOT the first time that the ground at her feet has been layered upon by CORPSES. digits BRUSH across trousers, REMOVING all traces of hydra goons from his flesh, while SILVER phalanges tuck away his blade.

            ( do not MINIMIZE her bravery by attempting to CONVINCE her that you would have been fine on your OWN, toy soldier. even YOU need help when GHOSTS come to play, BINDING you to a single spot, the past HAUNTING your mind and rendering you IMMOBILE. what is so WRONG about wanting to ASSIST ? )

the silence is more than an answer for steve. he waits, because he is patient ( the time bucky has stayed here with him has WEATHERED at the jagged edges of his TOLERANCE, where one before he would have INSISTED for answers ). yet in those short few moments, which feel like an ETERNITY to a man who already knows what it’s like to WA I T, he realizes that the wounds are not a subject that bucky is all too keen to discuss. his EVASIVE answer is only the backing for that theory.

and as he stands there, remains in a DAMNING SILENCE that only solidifies steve’s fears, the crimson specks only BLOSSOM over his shirt, spread and reveal themselves more and more. it’s slow, but enough that steve’s sharp eyes can CATCH the minuscule shifts, how each thread is STAINED with his blood. his mind is RACING, attempting to determine the source of this : bucky went on no missions. he went OUT, occasionally, but it was rare, as more often than not he would end up inside for most of the week. self-imprisoned in the DARKNESS that he had become so accustomed to. but would any of that cause an injury like this ?? 

his words only serve to twist him up FURTHER on the inside ; not so much LIES, but a F A C A D E. and those ———- they still HURT. because steve and bucky do not DO THAT to each other. they tell the truth to each other, because the other may be the last damn person on this earth that they can trust. steve trusts bucky : with his heart, his LIFE. there’s an UNDERSTANDING that bucky doesn’t quite know how to put his mind into words ( another lesson learned with time. after all, the LABYRINTH of bucky’s mind is complex and his lips have been CEMENTED SHUT after his TORTURE from hydra ———- steve has come to find that WAITING for him to either EXPOSE his innermost thoughts, or just RETREAT into himself again, is usually the only option ). but right now, steve cannot accept that. 

                       ‘   doesn’t seem that fine, bucky.

perhaps it’s too forward, but steve has seem some success from PRYING. besides, his DETERMINED PERSONALITY makes these urges hard to put down. besides, bucky’s frame is FROZEN solid ———- he hasn’t dared move a muscle through this entire confrontation. steve’s eyes can’t tear themselves away : not as the blood keeps SEEPING from these mysterious wounds. 

        ‘   what’s going on ? you can tell me —————- i’m sure it ain’t that bad. 

          upon crimson waves does this faintly BEATING heart bob, once somewhat PLEASED with its ability to play the EXPECTED role. curtains of apparent PROGRESS shroud the stage where a BROKEN man lies, limbs SPLAYED, contorted and USELESS with strings SUNDERED. the puppet is NOTHING without its revered puppeteer, and the world ( the CROWDS, just looking for an EXCITING show, though they COWER in fear of the great beast ; matted fur splattered in VICTIMS' blood obscures its muzzle ) wants someone, SOMETHING to BLAME for tidal waves of destruction !! unabating currents SNAG his heels, WRITHING like serpents ( cut off ONE head and TWO more shall take its PLACE ) to POISON his mind, and DOWN he goes : wanting to swallow air but SUCKING in ichor instead : thick, weighty, INESCAPABLE. no light has PENETRATED his cycle of DROWNING, until now. hues of blue, a visage HALOED by gold and blanketed in the colors of his HOME country.

             he should be able to STOP being smothered by his past, now, YES ? in the hands of someone FORGIVING ?

            a damaged mind LOVES to twist reality ———

            ( for what is ONE man amidst the many ? the kindness from one cannot be TRANSFERRED to all, nor can his attempts of UNDERSTANDING. from each POUNDING step resonates the word 'GUILTY,' and though the CAPTAIN may be capable of overlooking BARED fangs and scarred flesh, bones that knows just HOW to end a life with a SINGLE strike ——— the WORLD is not so magnanimous. and though his lips may ENDLESSLY utter reassurances or EXONERATING phrases, he cannot forget. his crimes SECURE him at the bottom of the ocean, GREEDY lungs unable to restrain the DESPERATION for something other than BLOOD and regret and tears. oh, how SALTWATER has stained his face and SEEPED into wounds, rolling onto DIRTIED concrete along with slowly dripping scarlet, his SHOW of defiance. and just NOW they dampened the cotton surface of a pillow, doing NOTHING beside furthering the GROWTH of self loathing as his fingers SUNK once more into that UGLY seam. )

            ——— and it FEEDS on deserved PUNISHMENT to balance the scales, but NOW that he is no longer SURROUNDED by those who like to play GOD, covering bloodied tracks is the GOAL. a goal SORELY missed, and so he FLOUNDERS in silence, lips HESITANT to part and to raise yet MORE concern than already exists. he might be DIFFERENT now, changed beyond repair, but he has enough sense to RECOGNIZE that he's already DEMOLISHING the bridges they're attempting to build between them. with each petty LIE told to get curiosity off his back, a BOMB follows, the radius EXPANDING faster than either of them can COMPREHEND, and suddenly bucky's standing in the WRECKAGE again, hardly knowing how he GOT there besides the fact that it's HIS fault.

            it's always his fault, isn't it ?

            ISN'T IT ?

                                                                ❝ it's ———— ❞

            digits TWITCH as he recalls how not so LONG ago, nails EMBEDDED themselves in VULNERABLE flesh peeled at so many times before. CONCEALING is what he does. pretend he doesn't HURT ; a hardened heart isn't MADE to suffer. it pulses DIFFERENTLY than everyone else's, PATTERING its violent storm in the HOPES that its pain won't be NOTICED, but with steve, it always is. ALWAYS. and though speak when spoken to isn't ENFORCED here, steve's gaze BORES into soaked fabric, making holes of its OWN, wanting to TEAR away the sleeves and WITNESS his pain for itself, but GOD, he wishes he wouldn't PRY, for he is not DESERVING of suffering as a weapon is. he SUBJECTS himself to bucky's sorrows and BURIES himself further as a result. steve has the TOOLS to dig himself out ; bucky's a LOST cause as all he does is sink further, but he'd be a LIAR if he didn't want to GRASP at chances for REDEMPTION. and that's not POSSIBLE if in steve's eyes, bucky doesn't TRUST him enough.

            ( what doesn't the captain UNDERSTAND about bucky not wanting to HURT him anymore ? but if he WANTS to know the truth, he'll utilize INSUFFICIENT explanations not VERBALIZED before. )

                                                ❝ ——— different ... if i ——— ❞

            clumsy words TUMBLE ( drenched in ignominy ) , meticulously selected, and yet they are STILL not enough to CONVEY the swirling MESS of a mind that he inhabits, nor CONFLICTING interests of body and mind, to LIVE or to DIE. nerves DEVOUR his stomach whole, eliminating his APPETITE, and nostrils fill with tinges of COPPER, biting as CLAWS do. his tailbone meets the EDGE of the counter top, but hues refuse to LIFT and see steve's DISTRESS.