"You are part of the machine, you are not a human being."

Private & Exclusive Independent James Buchanan Barnes Ship exclusive tracking sostoyaniye written by de

[kapllan-deactivated20140915]

forget? he never forgets. he doesn’t forget the ghosts in his lungs or the skeletons in his closet. he doesn’t forget when he wakes up screaming and he never forgets as he falls to his bloody knees finished to the bone. don’t ask him if he forgets because he never forgets. he’ll never forget this.

night terrors. (via latentcrim)

[sostoyaniye]

 The wounds on his features are a grim reminder of events that had pertained mere days ago. The way the wake of the onslaught of memories had left him. It had left him grasping for a life that had long ago been left behind, that in hindsight was really just almost like a story to most. There were stories about him and Steve, the comics that had been made about them. At least the tales of them back in the forties.  None the less, the evident steady exhaustion in in his bones, even if he is a man that has more in him than most. James is mostly at his limit, considering the facts.     He’s been at his limit maybe for weeks now. Ever since the memories have been haunting his mind. Certain illusions dancing across his features, in the worst ways really. The haunting memory of blood waking him when he catches any sleep. The blood of the wrong people he’s slain. He tries not to dwell on it really. It wasn’t his life. He didn’t exist for over sixty years. He was more of a ghost or machine than a human being to Hydra. He trudges on however. The evidence broken fracture in his arm, if he could get someone to break it, he’d be fine. The serum heals him too quick, and the pain is coming from the bone healing the wrong way. But it doesn’t show, the pain, not after everything he had been trained to do.

[sostoyaniye]

   It’s jarring the way that the fractured pieces of the human mind can penetrate a being. The way it can wreck havoc and leave someone into broken shambles of what they once were. The castings of memories like pieces of a puzzle that have been lost or jumbled. His head rings with memories that were his and what weren’t. It hurts to think really, some-days at least. None the less, if he lingers sitting here any longer, he’s going to draw unwanted attention to his state of mind.

[holytragedies-blog]

              ❛ next time you’re gonna stand me up,                 at least let me know you’re not coming.                 i looked like a complete tool —sitting                 in that booth all by my damn self. ❜

     ( his stomach had lurched at the sight of his lover. rejection was the lease of his fears.         all the bruises and blatant abuse had sent his thoughts somewhere dark. as he’d sat         alone in that dinner, he’d been preparing himself for the inevitable grief. dramatic ?         yes. however, dean considered himself just the right amount of concerned. this        might even keep them alive, one day. )

[sostoyaniye]

 (His fingers had to squeeze across his temple. The evidence of the abuse    that wrecked his frame was heavy. The amount of scarring that had pertained    his features was unpleasant on most eyes. Dean had a tolerance, but he hadn’t    met the demons that were the pimps. It had been a stand up yes, but to save the   other’s skin.)                “I didn’t want you getting hurt. Lu sent me            to Alexandr last night, you know how that ends.”

[sostoyaniye]

   like for a starter, it’s been about 80 years since i last wrote this muse.

[sostoyaniye]

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