#ghostasset

[whitesuited-arch]

[ sms ] if she hides under the bed, there's a little feather on a stick you can use to get her out. [ sms ] and if she's yelling at the window it's because the neighbor's tomcat is out again, she hates him. or loves him, i honestly can't tell. [ sms ] ... i'm texting too much again aren't i        /       @ghostasset​.​

[   SEND TEXT   //   CONTACT ID   ]  :  JBARNES.

[ SMS → DELIVERED ] : big bird on a stick. got it. [ SMS → DELIVERED ] : no unsupervised dates. or rumbles in the alley. got it. [ SMS → DELIVERED ] : maybe just a little [ SMS → DELIVERED ] : relax, bucky. she’s been on my lap for the last twenty minutes  [ SMS → DELIVERED ] : she sounds like a mini motor boat.

[loptgangandi]

@ghostasset​ :  “ and I  quote  ! ”

send  me  “  and  I  quote  !  ”  and  i’ll  write  a  little  starter  based  off  of  the  prompts  given  by  the  incorrect  quotes  generator.

             " I was born for politics. I have great hair and I love lying. ”

[nockeddown-archive]

➼ MEMES  ! @ghostasset​  asked    :     “ you deserve better. ”

clint  can’t  remember  how  long  it’s  been  since  bucky’s  last  nightmare.    NIGHTMARE    . . .    that  doesn’t  really  do  these  justice,    does  it  ?    people  have  nightmares  all  the  time.    these  are  something  else,    something  with  teeth  and  venom.    clint  wonders,    sometimes,    what  bucky  sees  when  it  happens,    but  he’s  quick  to  perish  the  thought.    the  man  isn’t  some  wounded  animal,    and  clint’s  no  therapist.    what  he  is,    what  he’s  very  good  at  being,    is  just    . . .    there.    he’s  there  in  the  bathroom,    crouching  beside  bucky  as  he  pants  pitifully  into  the  just  -  flushed  toilet  bowl,    there  pulling  back  strings  of  sweat  -  damp  hair  where  they  keep  trying  to  fall  into  bucky’s  face.

he’s  there  when  bucky  tells  him,    in  a  rough  and  quiet  voice  that  just  doesn’t  sound  like  his  bucky  that  clint  deserves  better.    better  than  what  ?    a  guy  who  loves  him  who  survived  the  worst  seventy  years  in  all  of  history  and  has  the  occasional  REALLY  BAD  NIGHT  as  a  result  ?    〝    have  you  met  me  ?    〞    clint  wants  to  tell  him,    if  anything,    it  ought  to  be  the  other  way  around,    but  that’s  not  an  argument  to  have  with  a  man  with  his  head  hovering  over  a  toilet  bowl.    so,    he  swallows  the  rest  down,    and  offers  up  instead,    〝    sorry,    but  you’re  stuck  with  me,    bud.    〞  

in  case  there’s  any  doubt,    clint  settles  onto  a  knee    ―    might  as  well  get  comfy    ―    and  the  hand  not  occupied  with  wrangling  bucky’s  hair  fumbles  for  the  old  mug  he’d  filled  with  tap  water  while  bucky  had  been    . . .    otherwise  occupied.     〝    now,    rinse.    〞

[gildedruinsarchive]

the last he can remember,  he had been at yggdrasill’s roots,  seeking out the norns before beginning his final quest.  whether he found them or not,  he does not know.  he feels as if he’s been tossed into an ocean & cannot figure out which way is up ; he is breathing,  but there’s a disconnect between his brain and his lungs telling him that he isn’t.  lightning sparks at his fingertips,  and he realizes that he’s lost stormbreaker. clouds gather overhead,  blotting out the sun,  as the once mighty thor sinks to the ground,  losing himself to grief and confusion and the overwhelming feeling that the world is spinning at a different angle.  

when he looks up again,  he is not alone. he blinks once,  twice,  then hauls himself to his feet.  he towers over the man in a way he shouldn’t,  but he doesn’t know why.  scratch that ---- he doesn’t care why.  so little matters. 

“ barnes? ”  he asks,  not bothering to frown.  he just looks dazed.  “ where are we? ” 

@ghostasset​

[awbartonno]

@ghostasset for a happy bucky birthday!

It had taken so much time to figure out, and even more planning to carefully figure which day he could make what phone call and so on. But finally he had managed it. He had managed to call Kate, who was the bigger part of the plan. A plan that, if everything went according to plan. was currently in motion and would ring Bucky’s door bell right about now, just in time for Clint to call.

What should have arrived to Bucky’s place was a pizza delivery, with accompanying flowers and an USB stick. The pizza was already payed for - thanks to Kate. And if they had managed to follow instructions the box lid, when Bucky opened it. would say “Happy Birthday, too bad you’re not turning 69 ; )”

Counting down second before he punched the phone number in Clint was, to say the least. very excited to see how things had managed to turn out.

You are about to receive a phone call from an inmate at Ryker's Island Maximum Security Penitentiary. To accept this call please hold...

[arrowedavenger]

a random thing for @ghostasset​ b/c lmao

     “The bed’s not gonna bite just because I’m in it, you know.” Ignoring the fact that he’s wearing a tight pair of briefs and nothing else... “We might as well be comfortable, and we’re gonna have to be up at butt-fuck o’clock tomorrow morning to scope out the gallery.”

[thawedpatriot]

@ghostasset​ said: Things didn’t go exactly as planned, but I’m not dead, so it’s a win.

he could swear those exact words have come out of his own mouth before, and frankly, he doesn’t love getting a taste of his own medicine. honestly, the thought of losing bucky unsettles his stomach, but steve doesn’t want to think about that. sure, it’s a win (relief) that bucky came away from the whole thing relatively unharmed. however, he’d prefer to avoid close calls like that if possible. anyone hurt on his watch, while he’s out there with them, that’s a weight he bears on his shoulders whether he has to or not. and what happens to bucky? well, that’s a little more personal. no, he won’t elaborate. all he knows is his hands aren’t quite steady yet.

“fine, let’s just not make a habit of this, alright? recklessness is my thing, don’t go stealin’ it.”

[fatedfuturist]

@ghostasset​ sent...  ❝ maybe get some sleep or something? you look pretty beat. ❞ accepting...  hades.

sleep  has  never  been  a  friend  of  his.    it’s  the  trauma  or  his  brain,  or  probably  both,  that  makes  it  difficult  for  him.    from  bad  dreams  to  just  plain  and  simple  insomnia  and  paranoia,  it  makes  it  difficult  for  him  to  lay  down  in  bed  and  close  his  eyes.    to  just  shut  out  the  rest  of  the  world  and  decide  to  rest.    often  times,  it’s  the  simple  need  to  keep  working,  to  keep  building,  making,  improving  what’ll  be  the  future;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  it’s  the  inability  of  his  brain  to  shut  up.  

there’s  much  he  needs  to  do.    much  he  hasn’t  done  yet  that  he’ll  soon  do,  surely,  because  the  world  will  decide  it  needs  to  place  that  responsibility  on  somebody’s  shoulders,  and  it  might  as  well  just  be  tony  stark’s  shoulders.    he  knows  he’s  no  atlas,  that  he  doesn’t  need  to  hold  the  whole  planet  up  by  himself,  yet  he  tries  all  the  same.    “  you  say  that  like  i  can  just  sleep  if  i  decided  to,  ”    he  mumbles,  wrinkling  his  nose  and  wiping  the  sweat  off  his  forehead.    he’d  decided  to  take  a  break  from  the  lab,  had  gone  to  the  gym  instead  to  work  a  little  on  some  new  martial  art  techniques.    “  besides,  i  could  say  the  same  t’you.    you  shouldn’t  be  awake.  ”

[statesangriaold]

@ghostasset​ asked:  ❛ let me help you with that. ❜ lost the meme as always lolll

𝐇𝐄𝐑  𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐘  𝐈𝐒  𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐋  𝐅𝐔𝐙𝐙𝐘.    it  comes  back  to  her  in  her  sleep  most  often;    smoke,    coming  from  somewhere  behind  her.    then  nothing.    loud  emergency  alarms.    then  nothing.    her  jet  dropping  out  from  underneath  her.    nothing.    and  then,    swaying  among  the  trees---    she  looks  up.    her  parachute  is  stuck.    she's  conscious  long  enough  to  dig  out  her  army  knife,    cut  herself  free,    and  then  she  hits  the  ground.    she  didn't  expect  to  wake  up  at  all...    and  to  wake  up  in  the  hospital,    with  james  by  her  side?    it  feels  like  a  miracle.

it  comes  as  a  surprise  when,    a  few  days  later,    she's  discharged.    she  still  feels  weak,    still  has  trouble  doing  much  of  anything  with  a  broken  arm    and    a  broken  leg.    it's  to  be  expected  after  falling  nearly  forty  feet  and  landing  on  her  side.    and  while  she's  thankful  to  be  alive  after  a  fall  like  that,    depending    on  others  has  never  been  her  strong  suit.    it  was  fine  in  the  beginning;    she  knew  progress  would  be  slow...    but  now?    it's  been  weeks,    and  the  frustration  is  starting  to  boil  over.

the  last  thing  she  wanted  was  to  wake  him  up.    all  she  wanted  was  to  make  a  coffee,    maybe    attempt    something  productive  today---    starting  with  breakfast.    and  everything  had  been  going    great    until  it  came  time  to  flip  the  eggs.    of  course,    one  stubborn  egg  would  have  her  knocking  the  pan  off  the  stove  with  the  spatula---    apparently  flipping  a  fucking  egg  isn't  an  easy  task  without  the  extra  hand  to  hold  the  pan  steady.    and  in  her  effort  to  catch  it  all,    she  sends  her  plate  shattering  to  the  ground  as  well.

❝  FUCK!  ❞    she  screams,    a  raging  fury  finally  exploding  from  within  her.    when  james  finds  her,    she's  on  the  ground,    picking  up  the  broken  plate  with  one  shaking  hand.    let  me  help  you  with  that,    he  says,    and  she  smacks  his  hands  away  as  soon  as  he's  within  reach.    ❝  i  can  do  it,  ❞    she  snaps.    except  now  she's  stuck  on  the  ground  with  a  broken  leg  and  a  broken  arm  and  not  enough  strength  to  pick  herself  up.    ❝  you  know  what,    just    go,    okay?    go  home    or  something---    i  don't  want  your  fuckin’  help.  ❞

[knowseverythingaboutyou]

@ghostasset​ asked: ❝ is anything gonna make sense today? ❞

Now there was a loaded question. She supposed it was fair enough — it wasn’t every day the deputy-former-disgraced-maybe-current director of SHIELD went to Indiana.  “The last time anything made sense for me, my sergeant was telling me to get my ass to Madripoor to complete an extraction.” Maria rolled her shoulders and shoved her hands in her pockets, staring up at the clouds above them. Madripoor had led to Fury, which led to SHIELD, which — well. The point was made.

“Last week I saw a T-Rex and a man made of rocks fight it out in Manhattan.” All that had been missing from that was an epic shot from the Empire State Building. ...great, now she wanted to watch King Kong. “Tomorrow might make sense. Hopefully for more than a second.” She looked over at Bucky, raising an eyebrow. “If you’re going to make me answer philosophy questions before noon, can I at least come in and get a coffee?”

doom patrol || accepting

[nockeddown-archive]

➼ MEMES  ! @ghostasset  asked    :     ‘ honey… ’

bucky  doesn’t  get  sick.

it’s  one  of  the  many  frustratingly  perfect  things  about  him.    he  gets  hurt,    sure,    cuts  and  bruises  and  the  occasional  pulled  muscle,    yeah.    he  doesn’t  get  sick,    though,    at  least  not  that  clint  has  ever  seen.    but  clint  ?    clint  gets  sick.

clint  gets  runny  -  nosed,    trashcan  overflowing  with  crumpled  up  tissues  sick.    not  often,    but  it  happens.    it’s  currently  happening,    in  fact.    the  usual  course  of  action  is  curling  up  on  the  couch  under  a  mass  of  blankets  and  waiting  for  it  to  pass,    and  that  was  the  plan.    WAS,    right  up  until  the  door  to  his  apartment  opened,    and  who  else  but  BUCKY  BARNES  walked  in  with  an  armful  of  bags  from  the  drugstore  on  the  corner  and  an  expression  on  his  face  that  clint  was  either  too  tired  or  too  groggy  to  read.    nat  must  have  ratted  him  out,    he  realizes  with  a  huff.    but  it’s  fine,    he  figures.    bucky  will  just  drop  off  the  bags  and  be  on  his  way.

that  isn’t  what  happens.    bucky  stays.    he  empties  the  overflowing  trash  can  and  sets  a  new  box  of  tissues  on  the  coffee  table  and  straightens  the  tangled  mess  of  blankets.    but  he  doesn’t  stop  there.    no,    because  after  some  indeterminate  amount  of  time,    clint  feels  something  shaking  him  awake    (    he  hadn’t  realized  he  fell  asleep    )    and  there’s  a  mug  of  something  that’s  definitely  not  coffee  being  pressed  into  his  hand.    honey    . . .    bucky  says,    and,    god  help  him,    before  clint  can  stop  them,    the  next  words  tumbling  from  his  lips  are,    〝    yes  dear  ?    〞

yeah    . . .    not  his  best  work.

[withoutawar]

@ghostasset​ said: “ i don’t think you can solve all your problems by throwing a few punches ” / dkjfjksdjf

‘ What do you know ? ’ He’s self aware at least to know to that a certain few of his habits aren’t healthy or efficient, defeating the purpose of those habits in the first place. But he’s set in his ways, searching for comfort in split knuckles and heaving breaths, in blood pounding in his ears and an over-assertion of control over his body. Stillness doesn’t suit him. Stillness eats him up alive and yeah, of course Bucky’s caught onto the fact that if there’s no fight for Steve Rogers to fight, he’ll make one for himself and if worst comes to worst, maybe there’s a gym in Brooklyn Heights that hasn’t banned entry to Captain America.

It’s impressive, really, if not concerning, the lengths he would go to to keep his mind occupied. He’ll even take Bucky spitting out his two scents, unwarranted, as a distraction. ‘ Sometimes I try talking first, ’ he says, with the defensiveness of a five year old accused of stealing his little sister’s candy. Just because he comes alive during a fight doesn’t mean he chooses that to be the first course of action. Of course, if it’s himself that he’s fighting, then there are no questions asked --- it’s fists against a punching bag or the nearest available sparring partner.

[fatedfuturist]

@ghostasset​​​ sent...  ❝ just trying to live with it. survive, actually. ❞

accepting... cyberpunk 2077.

there’s  a  lot  of  moments  in  his  life  he  can  recall  with  perfect  clarity.    a  lot  that  he  can’t—  blessing  as  it  is  or  not—  and  has  been  muddled  by  nightmares  and  new  memories.    it’s  not  all  that  bad,  he  tells  himself  on  a  frequent  basis.    he’s  still  alive,  isn’t ��he?    that’s  the  silver  lining  at  the  end  of  the  day,  or  so  he  thinks.    there  are  times,  moments  just  as  much  as  the  memories,  fleeting,  that  he  wonders  what  the  world  would  be  like  if  he  weren’t  around.    he  remembers,  then,  the  world  would  keep  spinning.    the  world  would  keep  living  without  him.    it’s  a  bit  of  a  relief,  honestly.    nothing  is  centered  around  him  in  actuality.    he  could  live  and  he  could  die,  and  it’d  all,  honestly,  mean  nothing.

there’s  more  to  it,  surely.    a  bit  cynical  of  an  approach  on  life,  but  he  knows  that  there’s  more  to  life  than  he’s  willing  to  admit.    the  future  is  always  worth  fighting  for.    if  you  don’t  fight  for  it,  then  you  don’t  know  if  it’ll  be  worth  it  or  not.    “  living’s  better  than  surviving,  i’ll  tell  you  that  much.  ”    he  runs  a  hand  through  his  disheveled  hair—  he  needs  a  shower—  before  he  sighs.    “  not  that  i’ve  got  any  life  hack  answers  on  how  to  live.    i’m  still  trying  to  figure  it  out  myself.    rather  complicated  relationship,  you  see...  ”    he’s  been  a  merchant  of  death  aside  from  personally  escaping  death  one  too  many  times.    “  i  hope  you  didn’t  come  here  for  a  pep  talk.    i’m  not  good  at  those.    everyone  in  the  avengers  can  attest  to  that,  including  pepper  and  happy.  ”

[nockeddown-archive]

@ghostasset​​​  asked    :    "Did you get the milk?"

in  his  defense,    he  really  did  go  out  for  milk.    there  was  a  promise  of  pancakes  for  dinner    (    because  who  doesn’t  love  breakfast  for  dinner  ?    ),    but  no  milk  to  make  them  with.    it  seemed  simple  at  the  time.    go  for  a  quick  walk,    pick  up  the  milk,    come  back  home,    and  clint  could  be  back  in  sweatpants  enjoying  SYRUP  -  LADEN  PANCAKES  before  nightfall.    night  city  had  other  plans.

which  is  how  he  ends  up  back  at  the  apartment,    hoodie  torn  and  face  already  starting  to  blossom  with  what  will  definitely  be  a  nasty  shiner  in  the  morning.    hanging  from  his  hand  is  a  milk  carton,    dented  and  empty.    〝    about  that    . . .    〞    he  murmurs.    it  wasn’t  his  fault,    but  he  can’t  help  feeling  a  little  guilty  about  the  busted  carton  still  dripping  the  last  of  its  contents  onto  the  floor  of  the  apartment.    really    . . .    who  mugs  people  on  a  tuesday  ?     then,    again,    what  kind  of  gonk  goes  walking  without  heat  in  night  city.    if  clint  hadn’t  come  along  when  he  did    . . .

aw,    who  is  he  kidding  ?    suit  killed  in  mugging  -  gone  -  wrong  wouldn’t  have  even  made  it  to  the  news.    still,    maybe  he  has  kids.    maybe  he’s  got  a  family  that  gets  to  see  their  dad  tonight.    and  all  it  cost  clint  was  a  carton  of  milk  and  a  pancake  dinner.    〝    for  what  it’s  worth,    the  guy  gave  me  a  credit  for  a  FREE  NOODLE  BOWL.    〞  

[nockeddown-archive]

➼  random  starter  for  @ghostasset​.

clint  couldn’t  sleep.

story  of  his  life,    right  ?    he’s  trying  the  retirement  thing    ;    turning  over  the  HAWKEYE  REINS,    living  out  his  golden  years  with  his  dog  and  some  gainful  employment  for  the  first  time  in  his  life.   but,    still,    more  nights  than  not  he  spends  his  nights  out  roaming  the  streets.    lately,    though    . . .    lately  he  seems  to  end  up  in  the  same  place.    it’s  crazy,    he  thinks.    guy  should  know  better  than  to  sleep  with  his  window  unlocked    (    or  maybe  he  figures  everyone  else  should  know  better    ).   but  just  like  every  other  time,    the  window  lifts  easily,    and  clint  slips  long  limbs  through  the  opening.

he  spots  a  familiar  form  in  the  floor,    asleep  from  the  looks  of  it.    hey,    who  is  he  to  judge  ?    he’s  slept  in  weirder  places.    he  kicks  off  old  sneakers  on  his  way  across  the  hardwood,    snagging  a  blanket  as  he  goes.    from  there,    it’s  the  easiest  thing  to  lie  down  on  the  floor  right  beside  bucky  and  throw  the  blanket  over  the  both  of  them.    clint  doesn’t  want  to  wake  him,    at  least  not  yet.    seems  like  a  dick  move  to  wake  the  guy  up  just  because  all  of  clint’s  sheep  seem  to  have  blown  town.    maybe  he  ought  to  use  the  quiet  time  to  think  about  why  all  roads  seem  to  lead  to  this  apartment.

nah    . . .    not  tonight  emotional  maturity.    not  tonight.

[nockeddown-archive]

gives clint so many hickeys. 😎

〝    i  dunno   . . .    still  feeling  pretty  critically  under  -  hickied.    〞