oh hey man so is your living weapon single or
Uhh... we're pair bonded... I mean, yes, it is single, but I gotta be real with you, I'll be bringing *a lot* of baggage to this arrangement
• CHARACTER SHEET! repost, don’t reblog
BASICS.
FULL NAME: james buchanan barnes.
NICKNAME: bucky. jimmy, to a few people, though he doesn't like this much.
TITLES: the winter soldier. captain america. the revolution. the man on the wall.
OTHER NAMES / ALIASES: canary. "mannish boy".
GENDER: trans fem bigender. presents masculinely in public, so, you won't know unless you spend a lot of time around him.
HEIGHT: 5’8" without shoes.
WEIGHT: without the weight of the arm, around 170. with it, around 280.
AGE: difficult to actually pin down. born in march of 1925, 20 years old at time of winter soldier induction, but periodically kept in stasis between operations that preserved his youth. i think the estimation from the red room scientists was he was around 28 when last used (after spending some years protecting an elderly vasily karpov). as of the induction of the infinity serum, likely ages very slowly.
ZODIAC: i think he is an aries-pisces cusp.
SPOKEN LANGUAGES: fluent in english, russian, german, spanish, arabic, mandarin chinese, japanese, and likely an assortment of european languages--anything deemed a necessity to learn by department x was learned, other languages picked up in the war. can get by well with vietnamese.
PHYSICAL CHARACTERISTICS.
SKIN TONE: a warm, light tan.
BODY TYPE: very defined and athletic. muscular, but not absolutely hulking or packing it densely; it's concentrated where it is most important for bucky, primarily being his legs, sniping arm, and upper back. lean but strong in the way a smaller big cat is, like a mountain lion. the body of a ballet dancer meeting the body of an olympic gymnast. smaller than a lot of modern heroes.
ACCENT: brooklynite through and through, albeit it can be hidden and loses intensity as he ages. slips a lot around other new yorkers or when in emotional duress.
VOICE: quiet, low. deceptively gentle. a bit rough in his throat. this is my voice claim, the only discrepancy in my head is that bucky's voice is a little deeper and has the accent, but.
DOMINANT HAND: right, ironically. but use of the prosthetic has sort of forced some ambidextrousness.
POSTURE: military drilling has left bucky with a nearly perfect posture when in normal situations. much much much more elastic and springy when in combat situations.
SCARS: very few aside from connective tissue around prosthetic plate. you'd think bucky would be heavily scarred, but it is not so; he is simply so skilled he's avoided most opportunities to scar, and he heals at an accelerated rate.
TATTOOS: none. too identifying. never considered it in the war.
BIRTHMARKS: none beyond a few moles.
MOST NOTICEABLE FEATURES: the prosthetic arm is quite an obvious and glaring feature.
CHILDHOOD.
PLACE OF BIRTH: gary, indiana.
HOMETOWN: brooklyn, new york.
BIRTH WEIGHT: 6 lbs, 8 oz.
MANNER OF BIRTH: natural, in a hospital in gary, indiana.
SIBLINGS: rebecca barnes, younger sister.
PARENTS: geroge james barnes, father, deceased. winnifred barnes, mother, deceased.
PARENTAL INVOLVEMENT: bucky's young life was the standard and perfect portrait of a 'nuclear family'; george was often at work, which left him and rebecca with winnie, who was a stay at home mother and homemaker. after her death, bucky saw less of his father overall, as it forced george to work excessively to provide for his two children as a single father. bucky does not resent him for this.
ADULT LIFE.
OCCUPATION: full-time invader and member of the US army, part time avenger, especially when mantling captain america. now, he just sort of considers them his coworkers. man on the wall, nick fury's personal assassin; the veil between earth and space for quite a while. member of the inner circle, as the revolution, in a ploy to bring them all down. former kgb assassin and spy. (still an assassin and spy, just not for them.)
CURRENT RESIDENCE: a good handful of safehouses and locations in which he is permitted to hide around the world. primary points of residence included his home in indiana--now sold for liquidated funds--and a small apartment in a high rise building in new york. formerly the facility in moscow.
CLOSE FRIENDS: steve rogers/captain america, sam wilson/captain america, natasha romanova/the black widow, clint barton/hawkeye, misty knight, logan/the wolverine, laura kinney/the wolverine, yelena belova/white widow, daisy johnson, nick fury, the invaders (namor--albeit they come to contention more than once--thomas, jim, etc), a number of avengers he's worked alongside, thunderbolts members (debatably..._)
RELATIONSHIP STATUS: verse dependent. generally married to his work.
FINANCIAL STATUS: has enough. not as well off as a lot of heroes, but fury did pay him for a lot of his work, as well as the avengers.
DRIVER'S LICENSE: yep. (pilots license as well.)
CRIMINAL RECORD: ah... yeah.. broadly pardoned. but it would include anything from political unrest to terrorism to murder to treason and selling american secrets to torture and theft to kidnapping and acts of espionage. he literally assassinated JFK, so.
VICES: bad sleep schedule, forgets to eat, doesn't take care of himself. got into fights 24/7 as a youth, still angry.
SEX & ROMANCE.
SEXUAL ORIENTATION: bisexual, mild male preference.
ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: biromantic.
PREFERRED EMOTIONAL ROLE: kind of difficult to discern. bucky doesn't like shouldering everything for his partner and needs them to be independent, but does want them to know they can trust him and use him as needed. likes to follow.
PREFERRED SEXUAL ROLE: dommy bottom. likes to take over during sex whilst still being the receiver, as it gives him a sense of control over something previously denied to him, but absolutely enjoys subbing--he just has to trust you to do it. tends to be a submissive top with women, but loves being pegged. the only thing he cant really do is dom topping. very good at taking orders, once you work the brat out of him.
TURN ONS: gotta live in the dark a little, like him. has a hard time with people who don't; the only exception is really steve and sam. gotta be okay with his distance and how busy he usually is, cannot be clingy in any serious sense except when immediately together--that's fine, but in terms of the general relationship, he wont do well with someone who is really clingy. gotta like cats, sorry. physical appearance doesnt matter as much, but he does like them strong; his type in men is "muscular". likes his women whip-like and unafraid to boss him around, in fact, likes them to lead the relationship and 'wear the pants' if possible. likes physical strength, loses his mind a little when manhandled or overpowered. especially if they can overpower the arm, too.
TURN OFFS: "apolitical" people. everything is political in the end, and bucky's body and mind have been weaponized his entire life--deny that and he won't even give you the time of day. really bad physical hygiene. cruelty toward animals or children. glorifying violence or his past. (violence is necessary, but it isn't beautiful.) submissive or meek personalities.
LOVE LANGUAGE: acts of service (it's not his fault he's a living weapon and all he knows how to do is kill.) big 'quality time' guy as well.
RELATIONSHIP TENDENCIES: entrenched in you, consumed by you, melded to you. would rip himself apart for you. dramatic highs, bad lows. tends not to have them, because he is extremely dedicated, and can't do anything short term or casual. all or nothing.
MISCELLANEOUS.
HOBBIES TO PASS TIME: yoga, contortionism and suspension yoga, meditation, ballet. sparring, exercise. bike rides.
MENTAL 'DISORDERS': i'm also going to interpret this as 'symptoms'. bucky has always been angry--he's said so himself, defiant enough in childhood to get into regular brawls with other children, angry enough as a teenager he had to be sent away to england for SAS training in part because he kept landing himself in the camp slammer. phobia of heights, probably very afraid of sterile medical environments and needles and the beep of heart monitors. sleeps in bizarre patterns, plagued by night terrors AND nightmares. very reclusive and struggles to connect with others, details in his journal about how he doesn't feel like he's healing at all, struggles to follow authority, extremely impulsive to the point of self-harm recklessness, all-or-nothing mentalities (loves you, hates you), rapid mood changes, dissociative episodes and derealization.
MENTAL ILLNESSES: ptsd, probably c-ptsd, bpd, partial dissociative identity disorder.
PHYSICAL ILLNESSES: no illnesses; severed left arm and part of shoulder and pectoral / disabled.
LEFT OR RIGHT BRAINED: both? but probably a bit more left.
PHOBIAS: extreme cold paired with a closed environment, sterile medical facilities, restraints (outside of certain intimate settings), forgetting who he is again, being abandoned by his loved ones. mildly anxious about heights.
SELF CONFIDENCE LEVEL: ehh... very sure in his abilities and body, but, hates himself? so.
VULNERABILITIES: electricity has been shown to do weird things to bucky's mind and memory. could in theory be reprogrammed to be the winter soldier again. has been corralled by threats to his loved ones lives, wherein if he acted they would die (same with mass casualty events). complex relationship with autonomy and intimacy can cause problems.
tagged by: @snkts mwah mwah
tagging: idk steal from me and at me, i'm dog at tagging people
people when trauma victims act traumatized especially in a way that is unpalatable to them because it involves lashing out and unpredictable moods and having boundary issues rather than just being demure, sad, and consumable
do you ever think about how bucky was set up for failure since the beginning. this is one thing i really am bitter about being lost in the mcu adaptation--bucky has never had a chance to be anything but a tool for political violence. ten years old when his military father dies, never adopted into a new family or fostered, raised by GI's in a military camp, and then scouted to join because he was so naturally talented as a fighter, at fifteen years old. no chance. not one. didn't finish school. wasn't allowed to. couldn't waste that talent, right? and bucky never fostered any interests in those five years. how could he? he was raised among military men. what else was there for him but combating the rise of fascism?
he never had a chance to be anything else. the winter soldier was a person carved into a shell, but it had to start somewhere. the US military set him on that path.
In a lot of ways Logan knew he didn't deserve Bucky's trust, not to mention his affection, but in the end it didn't really matter. He'd never deserved love, that much had been made abundantly clear to him with every cross word spoken by the woman who bore him, every stolen opportunity his long life had afforded. Every heartbreak was written in stone before he'd taken his first breath. Maybe someday he'd finally let go of this martyr complex, allow himself to believe he was worthy of care from others -- but that might be at the expense of his greatest strength, his steadfast need to prove himself more than what he'd been born, what he'd been made into.
More than a weapon. More than a sick boy born of lies. More than a mutant.
Those moments spent trailing away from the precipice of an intimate nosedive feel like cold and unforgiving hours of glacial solitary, if Bucky were to be dramatic about it. His skin is alight and so sensitive, any brush of Logan's roughened finger-pads would feel like they'd scald to his war-torn center. He treats him so gently, so precisely, with none of the methodical, mechanical motion of the forebearers of his nightmares. In his dreams, they take him apart, limb by limb, until he's nothing but a mass of twisted wire for their use. Expendable. An item. A thing.
But, here, like this, he's lavished, adored, as one might tend to a beloved garden. All the compassion of a smitten cultivator, Logan's hands all sullied with him as dirt from roots; he loves him, he really does.
you in that dress, my thoughts i confess---
@zimwy || open starter call
he makes it a point to meet everyone. it's just good leadership. and, as kaz and ocelot remind him over and over, it's good for morale. it was easier to know everyone on base back in the days of MSF—smaller, less time needed to travel between platforms and check in on projects.
he used to know all their names. he doesn't these days, but they don't hold it against him. the evidence of his clouded memory is jabbed directly into his skull. he makes up for it with action, attention. for most of the soldiers, it's a greeting. for the more eager ones, a brief sparring session. some, though, require a more consistent touch.
"how are you finding things?" he asks, coming to stand beside the soldier. his eyes are drawn, as always, to the shining metal of his arm. his curiosity borders on dire—an expensive prosthetic, one that looks just as functional as his own. someone had invested in this man, somewhere along the line. but pasts don't matter here, not once they've signed their souls over. a blank slate. and most of them need it.
"been hearing good things about your performance."
there are a thousand secrets in james' head, lost to time, and a thousand more that unfold as if a book turned to a random page. a recollection will lance and break the membrane of memory, and out it will ooze, excised by a scent or a sound or a word or a photo.
eluding the seychelles heat isn't so bad, and it helps clear their head. his head.
but, really, he was unsure of that. the hand in his pie was yet another militiaman, no matter how friendly they all seemed. and he yet reeks of soviet russia; the world had yet to free itself from the shackles of nuclear war, and animosity raged on. the diamond dogs harbor no allegiances, no borders, no prejudices, yet, he doubted.
james glances up, appreciates that despite his closeness, snake doesn't touch the aperture of his trapezius or rest friendly upon his deltoid. the winter soldier was unused to touch without purpose, and sort of loathed it, now. it made them flinch and retract.
did they owe him more? a history, of what little they can remember? he clears his throat, gazing down at his rifle. it's splayed over his lap, all the little parts threaded with a pipe cleaner and soft rag. it's innards are carefully balanced across their lap, the bulk of their thighs serving as a table to the mechanical guts.
' the beds here are more comfortable than in russia. ' there is something wryly amused in james' voice, though his affect is very subtle. it slips away, thumb smoothing over a narrow point on the disassembled trigger. entirely safe, like this, nothing more than a paper weight. ' you're american, aren't you? '
Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers, & Natasha Romanoff
Thunderbolts: Doomstrike (2025) #5
the concrete tastes like stinging alkaline. for a moment, bucky barely registers the body beneath him, tapered beneath the arch of his torso. knees brace bob's hip and flank, natal arm shielding his own skull from impact with the cracked slab. where the prosthetic landed is where the fissure widens into tangled roots of absent space, a monument to the weight and strength of the arm.
bucky feels him stir, hand loose and perched at barnes' side. feather light as it is, the touch spurns him into rousing, blinking out the field of black spots that've cropped up across his vision. he's quick to peel himself off reynolds, smoke and heavy detritus not five inches from his head. it's the kind that would've pulverized some tender part into mashed meat, if he hadn't bodied him over. big. it brings back memories.
steve's hands on the small of his spine, bracing him up a sinking ship. the invaders hadn't been a maritime unit, but the nature of their work took them everywhere--bucky even remembers what a biplane feels like to pilot.
he shakes some rubble out of his hair, taking stock of the visible conflict area. another shelling would come soon enough; they didn't have to take time to pack a mortar anymore--kids and their god damned inventions. bucky doesn't give bob his hand so much as he simply pulls him to his feet, silver fingers glimmering under a midday sun.
' you okay? '
bob shuffles. bucky can practically visualize the bruising that'll form, contact points where his back slammed into the ground, a scuffed elbow prickling red. still, he grits, i'm alright. bucky's grip slackens, retreating to hover instead around the back of one of his arms, coaxing. no matter that he didn't enjoy leading, it was never very difficult to bucky. have to be, dont i?
bucky rescinds touch entirely once he's confident he's employed a proverbial tether, like teaching a puppy to heel.
' you don't. not really. ' his murmur spoke of experience. ' i was a soldier. when you lie, about a problem.. especially on the field.. you become a liability. ' it's honest, but not accusatory. bucky scans the horizon before cueing him on. ' don't treat a wound, it gets infected. don't set a bone, it heals wrong and you can't use it anymore. have too many nightmares, your unit can't get any sleep either. don't become a liability. are you hurt? '
bucky watches a brief flurry of emotion pass through the undercurrent of bob's features, little tiny twitches and spasmodic muscles. the red room taught that was an involuntary sociological phenomenon, that it could be controlled with intensive training. by comparison, his face is a still and unmoving mask beyond attentive carob eyes.
i, uh, i've got a headache.
that training goes out the window, for a moment. bucky snorts, shouldering past him to weave through a comic book store with a busted front. the owner and any customers have long since fled. ' you and me both, pal. '
Bob does a quick sweep of the comic book store-- making sure to watch his step, boots wading through the shattered glass right up front. This would've been so much better if they didn't put him in such stuffy gear; bulletproof vest and all 'just to be safe', incase his Sentry power manages to not flare up.
Sometimes Bob thinks OXE personnel treats him like a glass cannon way too often. With how unpredictable his powers seem to be, there's no concrete information on whether it would save his ass every single time he gets into stupid shit-- but the brunette's quite sure he has some degree of control on it, deeming all the armor unnecessary.
"I should remember to bring some Ibuprofen or s-something during these.." He manages to joke amidst the action, savouring whatever quiet break they've got while hiding behind what's left of the store's checkout counter. Dark eyes do another quick sweep, using a hand to wipe the grime that's set on his forehead. How long have they been out here?
"Sarge, we still have to get those civillians out." Bob comments. He feels useful, for once. "There's two.. t-two hostages left, right on that side--" Shaky hands point to the building across, where several armed men guard, people quickly deserting the area. He's aware of the situation enough to know than none of their backup were responding, if he'd heard Bucky's radios correctly.
There's a short beat, where Bob seems to listen to something far off, just the slightest hint of gold flashing in his eyes. Two women captive, far enough for it to be on one of the higher floors. His hearing isn't that clear, but the cocks of guns and leather boots scratching on tiles were something he could trust.
"U-uh, one- one of the higher floors, I think," he continues, gaze flickering towards the soldier, waiting to take his lead. "Would be so useful if I could fly right now. We'd just z-zoom right in. Heh."
it was always something. always--some new calamity come to bulldoze the world, crush it into fine cosmic fibers, or some organized terrorist group with a chip on their shoulder about something or another (disputes over territory, civil rights, species-wars, capital and finances, personal gain). if bob would ask him, bucky would tell him very honestly that he was tired of all this. that he missed when the world felt simpler to him, when the complexities of politics and warfare were afterthoughts to a youthful mind: the bad guys and the good guys were painted by clear colors and even lines.
but he knew just as well that reality was never that simplistic or two dimensional. multitudes housed in man of all walks, his endeavors spoke of that enough, and it would've been hypocritical to imagine conflict like theatres of war. if he did not believe in the complexity of a human being, he would've submitted himself to a firing squad years ago.
when he glances at bob out of the corner of his thick-lashed eyes, its all he can think about--the trifecta of his selfhood, the narrow point between two halves that accompanied him now.
as much as he could. he trusted his intent. he trusted that bob would trust him. (he had, after all; he was met with no resistance when he'd speared reynolds at the waist line to thrust him out of the path of the falling rubble.)
for an agent of espionage, that would be as good as he'd get.
he thinks of telling him that the medication would do very little for him, that only the strongest of opiates ever abated his pain, but instead, bucky simply presses on toward the shattered window front, gaze sweeping across the perimeter to ensure there was nothing amiss. when bob addresses him, he listens without turning his head, making note of the three noted armed tangos. nothing he couldn't handle, but...
pivoting on his heel, bucky signals instinctually, then realizes bob likely wouldn't know military hand signs or anything he didn't see or hear in a movie. ' well, i've got a rappel. i could probably carry you and scale the exterior, but that'd make you pretty vulnerable, and anyone looking out a window would see. ' a dimple impresses into his cheek, an indication of thought. ' probably not smart enough to shut down their elevators. easy way up, but.. bob. do you know how to use a gun? would you? '
zimwycanary blue#i mmmight paint this later?#i'm going to the food pantry tomorrow which will really wear me out#and before bed tonight i have to shower and detangle my stupid ass hair and everything so i dont anticipate working on this more tonight#MINE.#if i fully color it i'll delete this later#anyway bucky in gym clothes bc i wanted to see him in a crop top… See all6
zimwyReblogged moldcursedntriderFolloweveryone got that one homie who hasn't been whole since the incident ntriderevery friend group has that one person who is followed only by a stench of death and sorrow and loss#morning#MUSINGS.2211,79516,857
zimwyRebloggedfianchettoedFollow➽ sc / for @zimwy"I dunno..." Breathing labored, Kate leans against the steel frame of the punching bag setup. A bottle tilts to her lips, a forearm swipes the sweat from her brow. "Is it sacrilegious to watch a movie while working out? It kinda feels sacrilegious."Her gaze, having first traveled across the small gym to consider where she might stick a television, now fixes itself on Bucky. "I just haven't had movie-watching time lately, it's bumming me out." ( By which she means, of course, that she hasn't made movie-watching time. ) zimwyby comparison, barnes stands on both hands, metal support bridge necessary to progress his exercise--if it hadn't been, off the arm would've went. his palms sit flat upon an exercise mat, weight held over his head, legs folded back toward his crown of scrunched curls. his hand-stand push ups come with the perfected grace of a danseur, quiet and in repose. his head tilts up when he hears kate stir, sending a few springy coils loose across his sweat-burned brow. a laugh punches out of him, weight extending up, down. ' i woulda gave anything in th' army to be able to watch film reels during drills. ' would've taken the edge off, though he supposed the presence of the edge was the point. he tuts, ' clint made me sit down and watch something with him recently. think it was called.. superbad? ' #fianchettoed#THREAD.#V. PRIMARY.#nods sagely#i just know clint subjects bucky to a variety of films and that variety spans between 'things he actually enjoys' and#'things he thinks would be funny to make bucky watch'11
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zimwyhalekulan-i asked:"you want a road test? saddle up." @cnebcss from the Boss! On a horse, of course. the orange rhinelander she prompts forth comes on a german bridle. bucky cannot help but laugh, patting the beasts firm neck in greeting, letting it acquaint itself with him, before hooking a leg into his stirrup and swinging himself up onto the mount. it's surprisingly natural for a city boy from brooklyn, his curls wicked back with cast gels bobbing around his brow-line. working alongside the cobra unit has been a blessing in disguise. they're natal oddities, like the rest of them, and bucky doesn't feel so alone anymore. especially when the best of them--joy, is all she offers with a nascent smile--is an unaltered woman. he'd giggled up a storm when she tossed namor onto his back a few months ago when the war brought them side by side, and the need for rest ordained a shared camp. bucky gives the stallion a gentle pat of the heels, spurring his movement to follow. ' cap an' i spent three days chasin' kraut cavalry units last year. you'd think they'd be puttin' supplies on somethin' that can't spook and run. '@cnebcss#cnebcss#RESPONSE.#PROMPT.#i think#ANYWAY. babies time1
zimwyalpine hcsafter attending one of sam's group consolation / therapy sessions, and a conversation with nat where she suggested a cat might help him as liho helped her, bucky did go down to the local shelter a few times to hang out with the cats and see if any bonded with him/caught his eye, but he wasn't ready to make a decision so never adopted.found her on a mission after bucky was forced to go through the apartment of an assailant he'd also assassinated. knowing he was never going to come home, and the cat would just be carted off to another shelter, bucky took it upon himself to adopt her. she was afraid and standoffish at first, but bucky was okay with living with a skittish cat, and slowly day after day of feeding her and giving her her space she leapt onto his lap when he was watching a movie once and that was that. took her to the vet as soon as she allowed him to, mostly to affirm she was in good health. discovered, as many white cats are, she's partly deaf. not fully deaf as most white cats are, but partly; around 40-50 percent total hearing loss. otherwise perfectly healthy. this means alpine is very loud. she can only kind of hear herself meowing and purring. rumbles like a truck. loves bucky to absolute death but is less friendly with others. canonically known to Switch Up where she may approach you in a friendly way then hiss and swat seemingly out of nowhere. she does this with a lot of people, but never bucky. has mauled a few of their friends. misty, riri. had a stand off with kate once. for a small cat, very ferocious. really fond of sharon carter.#HEADCANON.11
zimwyRebloggedsteelwrathFollow@zimwy liked for a starter. " you may have a metal arm, but i have a metal... well, everything -- you could not hope to win this. "zimwythat arm whirs, plates noisily shifting. bucky flexes his robotic fingers into his palm. ' it's not steel, pal. it's adamantium. ' or, well, an adamantium-vibranium mixed compound, but that was a mouthful. instead, bucky simply offers his hand over to shake. ' but i'm not real keen on makin' foes outta my friends' friends. logan and i go way back. '#steelwrath#THREAD.#V. PRIMARY.#bites him#im. Sorry i replied to this literally instantly11
zimwy#BUCKYNAT TBT.#and. also.#LOGANBUCKY TBT.#MUSINGS.5
zimwyi think part of bucky's problem is that he doesn't allow himself to entirely process his trauma. there are aspects that he intentionally allows to remain buried and elusive to even himself--and others that are difficult to process because he can't remember them. the torture he was put through is the kind that burns holes into the mind and memory--which in itself is traumatic. he can't identify and acknowledge and try to work through everything he's been through because, in part, he doesn't know what he's all been through. he just knows how he feels. he knows that he freaks out without a sense of control in his life in certain avenues; he wants to choose his own destiny, his work, his paths, no restrictions, no answering to another agency or company or group of people. he knows that certain sounds and smells and sights make him belly over and vomit, for reasons he can't figure out in any coherent way; some come to him in watery flashes of memories, others don't, just the deep and vicious sense of panic that smothers and chokes. he knows some sensations and touches will outright provoke a hostile reaction from him, even when the intention is completely harmless. he's ripped his arm away from a friendly touch, wrenched his shoulder out of the path of a cuffing hand. grabbing him from behind is a good way to get a metal elbow in your abdomen or an arm locked around your head. his response to a lot of these things is violence or anger. but sometimes it's breaking down, wanting to crawl out of his skin, wanting to exist in a body that is unharmed and untouched by others, wanting to expunge the sick from his brain and body, wanting to belong to himself. sometimes it's strangled wails and crying and thrashing, hurting the people he loves, being ugly and mean and a bad victim. sometimes it's dropping behind a grave stone and drawing guns on your friends because they startled him. sometimes it's punching a knife into a lovers abdomen because they touched him when he was asleep and he woke only to the feeling of blind pressure on his back and panicked. you have to be very understanding if you want to be bucky's friend beyond topical coworkers. #HEADCANON.#ptsd tw#anyway. otep shamaya you understand. tortured is such a. visceral track and makes me feel like i could slip out of my body#very difficult listen as a survivor but also one that makes me feel. like. not so alone in the world#im mostly well adjusted. incredibly so in comparison to bucky3
zimwysome things about bucky + parenthoodideally wants to carry a child if he's having one. aware, as is, this is impossible with his equipment, but... its marvel, i doubt an artificial or temporary womb or magic bs could not make it happen. this is both a gender thing and also just how he would feel most comfortable; it is something he can control that way. does not believe he would be a good parent though. fears he would dump his psychological issues onto a child and that their existence would put them at risk of harm, simply because of how dear the child would be to bucky.needs complete stability and utter safety to consider having his own child, which is something he assumes he will never achieve. (so far, of all my ships, the only people he'd be comfortable with at the moment for this would be t'challa and logan. a logan baby would presumably have a healing factor, and wakanda feels so completely safe to him, he wouldn't worry. in a perfect world, it'd be with anyone he could settle down with, but he's always going to be neurotically terrified of a child being harmed--and would rather kill himself than weapon-ify his child to keep them safe.) would likely teach their child hebrew as its easiest to introduce new languages to a young child, and thus regularly converse with them in hebrew. so, if his partner wants to understand, they better learn hebrew.(thus would be referred to as "aba" if his partner is another man, and his partner is dad/papa/etc.) would raise his child jewish, but wouldn't enforce it if they didn't really align with the religion. #HEADCANON.#i am not a big fan of the buckynat children comic btw. kids have to come natally or not at all.#unlike logan i'm not sure bucky would be able to get over an autonomy violation like that.2
zimwytall fem short masc or whatever#MINE.#just a scribble but i know several people who will like it so#TBT.7
zimwywhile obviously there are a lot of heroes who are way wayyyy physically stronger than bucky (whom in terms of strength is generally a little below steve; i see him as faster than steve and not quite as strong, but thats discounting the arm's strength which vastly supersedes his own but i digress) i do think one of my fave things is bucky with someone who is actually not stronger than him, in the end, letting them manhandle him#he just likes it. <:3#and then asserts himself if irritated or in a situation where he has to in order to help them#anyway. points at winterhawk#clint is very technically skilled but he isnt a super soldier. but he is taller than bucky#and bucky will let him pick him up and drag him around a little if he's in the mood for it#100 percent has broken his bed frame#HEADCANON.#MISC.4
zimwyRebloggedk-i-l-l-e-r-b-e-e-6-9FollowOtep - Tortured#remembered this song existed and ah.#MUSIC.47
zimwybucky absolutely sleeps in a bonnet when he's taking care of himself, by the way. if he's not wearing one, either a. he's going to shower and brush his hair right in the morning so isn't concerned as much with his hair tangling, or b. he's exhausted, and thus not doing any of his self care routines. he doesn't have a LOT, but he has a few, and trying to prevent his curls from tangling in his sleep is one he likes to employ as much as possible. #HEADCANON.#i also have a bonnet because my waves bunch into tight tangles if i don't#and bucky's hair is curly whereas mine is just wavy so i'm sure his would tangle more2
zimwyRebloggedraregcmsFollow@zimwy // from hereAs a matter of fact, Clint hadn't expected to run into Bucky in this corner laundromat at all, and upon catching sight of him hadn't been sure it was Bucky at first. This side of town was home to all sorts, and Clint was out having a look to see if the all sorts that called this place home were keeping their noses clean. He'd simply glanced in that direction as he passed the windows, but the gleam of familiar metal had made him backpedal.Well.The comment made it out before he could really stop himself; after all, who was Clint Barton if he didn't try to break tension by saying something profoundly stupid? Bucky's annoyance was fully earned, the long-suffering target of many of Clint's frustrating tendencies. Leaning in the doorway, Clint was more than ready to continue the verbal sparring session, anything to alleviate the boredom of boots on the ground patrol…Bucky bent low over the front-loader and any witty rejoinder fell to pieces, his breath escaping in a low and entirely accidental whistle. He'd seen Bucky times aplenty in skintight garb; in his catsuits, in the Cap suit; hell, even in swim trunks. But the combination of snug-fitting bottoms and heel-lifting boots…He was staring. Stammering, he tore his gaze away, forcing himself to look up at Bucky's face and not his butt. "I -- what I mean is -- Jesus, Barnes," he huffed, scrubbing the back of his head awkwardly. "Ya look good, is all."zimwyUpon tossing in his second load of laundry, Bucky straightens up and measures out the appropriate amount of detergent, unceremoniously dumps it into the appropriate receptacle, and thumbs over the amount of quarters the machine demands to begin it's cycle. If he feels Clint's eyes upon him, he offers no evidence to suggest as much, quietly tending to a chore he often felt he didn't have time for. It was good to get away from the gripping monotony of work for something as mundane and boring as laundry--he's sure few others shared that sentiment that weren't agents of espionage as well, engaged in the service of lying and blood shed. Sometimes, it was just.. nice, to shed that skin and be a normal person with normal obligations. (It'll be nicer to have some clothes devoid of cat hair.) Finally, Bucky pivots to look at Clint, really look at him. There was no hiding that subtle heat or the embarrassment of a man under scrutiny. Whatever annoyance Barnes weaponizes inside him dispels slowly, both brows raising instead. You're stammering like a school girl, he observes, shuffling a step over to feed the dryer it's due as well. ' Its my day off, ' he confirms, ' I do ballet and aerobics in the morning. Haven't changed out of that yet, and my work boots are drying. Can't do chores in pointe shoes. ' Well, he could, but it'd look fucking ridiculous. A little indulgence in presentation that wasn't explicitly masculine kept him hidden away from targeted eyes hunting for the Winter Soldier, anyhow; a hoodie would hide the arm well enough. ' So, if you didn't come in here to make fun of me-- ' with nothing left to do but wait for the cycles to conclude, he turns to face Barton, half emptied roll of quarters yet in hand, ' --flirting with me won't get me on a job. I'm not working today. ' #raregcms#THREAD.#V. PRIMARY.#bucky who doesnt even fully conceive of the fact he and clint are Friends and clint might genuinely just want to hang out with him:11
zimwyraregcms asked:"did you cut your hair or something? you look fabulous." (from clint lmao)hercules. | @raregcmsSometimes, Bucky thinks Clint is a test sent unto him from God. He didn't believe in eternal suffering or damnation (if he did--the black spots on his sullied soul would pave his path without even a suggestion of contest), but the life one led determined their reciprocal reaction as midah. That was to say, the concept of karma. It wasn't an orthodox belief, but it wasn't something Bucky denied existed. He participated in the world as a human being, and that went beyond individual connection to the community and religion he was fostered in. If he were a Christian, he might think Clint was his punishment at his worst. But he's seen him in quiet repose, darkened by a bad day, hair mussed and all that performative stupidity waylaid by a real problem. Bumping into him at a laundry mat didn't feel like coincidence--in his line of work, Barnes has learned that nothing was happenstance. Nothing at all. Bucky looks... Not how he usually looks. His pants are soft nylon, more like leggings or yoga pants. His boots aren't made for combat, subtle heels that pump his height up an inch or two (still shorter than Clint), a feminine taper. His high-neck midriff baring top gives way to thin, white fabric, so narrow in fact that if Clint has the temerity to narrow his eyes and make the trajectory of his stare very obvious, he might notice the bralette beneath. It's far from anything he'd normally share with him. ' You know, ' Bucky mumbles, chromatic fingers tunk-ing when they hit the lip of the metal washer. He leans into the cylinder to drag out his wet clothes, swapping them into the adjacent dryer. A second load swaps into the receptacle. ' if you wanted to make fun of me, there are easier ways than harassing me while I'm doing my laundry. '#raregcms#RESPONSE.#PROMPT.#really had to rub some salt in it just to make him feel bad#interrupting his girl time clint...!!#had to use an icon from tbolts 2016 bc that artist draws bucky insanely pretty in some panels1
zimwysoulmissed asked:"i try to fit in, i just can't."hercules. | @soulmissedbucky has been in this exact place before: standing in a narrow tiled bathroom, ceiling-affixed light close to clinical, providing a clean look at his bruise-roughened red spot. it's cherry dark on his skin, flecks of shed blood suggesting a ring on a finger or a scrape into a rough patterned wall. only--it'd been james seated on the closed toilet seat whilst george tended to his scrapping wounds. for a moment, that balling-and-unballing feeling that clenches his abdominal muscles feels like all his father's exhausted and gentle scorn, come to haunt him. i don't want to hear about these scraps you're getting in anymore, james, he'd said, more like a plea.but, what bucky says to august as he gently swabs a damp cotton ball over his wound is, ' hey, you and me both, pal. i didn't fit in either. everything made me mad. and, see.. i think you're doin' a lot better than i was, at your age. why don't you tell me what happened, huh? '#soulmissed#RESPONSE.#PROMPT.#lays on my face1
zimwyRebloggedperditosThe engine runs, a low rumbling purr, guzzling-up gas as Victor takes a deep and long drag on his cigarette. He holds the warm smoke against his tongue then exhales into the cracked, open window. The radio cracks on, playing the local classic rock station that Victor had been listening to on his way in. It's on commercial but he leaves it on, enjoying the noise but turned down so low that even he has to strain to hear it. He glances at James', who smells nervous and still, of gun metal steal. There's nothing twitchy about him though and especially not in the cold tones of his warning to Victor. Victor's willing to bet he's already got a game plan or three, running in the back of that sharp mind of his. It's too bad he won't kill so easy. Victor bets he'll be good at it. He lets the cigarette dangle between his lips as he shifts gear, compressing clutch and pedal to back out of the parking spot. "Yeah, I'll bet," Victor mutters. The guy may follow just out of sight, done easily enough in the dark but Victor will hear his engine from miles off. He debates looping back and just going ahead with killing the guy. It'll save some trouble but also, might make some. He's got his prize in the car though. A bird in the hand is better than two in the bush and all that. "We'll see how that goes for him. Whatsamatter Jimmy? Scared? If ya ain't done anythin' wrong than ya ain't got anythin' to worry about. Might be me he's after, after all."Victor chuckles, deep in his chest. There's a smirk on his face as he guides the truck out of the parking lot and back onto the highway. As he goes, he explains:"Like I said, I was just headin' up North for some work. Had a fun little job down in South Carolina, horrible roads down there you know. Feel like there was a pot hole every ten feet. I digress. I just had some work. Paid real good, you know, given I had to put a bullet in someone's skull. Don't worry, Jimmy, he was a scumbag. Heard he took candy from a baby, or somethin'. That's me, popping bad guys..." well, he didn't exactly 'help good guys, so he leaves the idea there. "Now I'm headed back up to my place. It's a nice dig. You'll see when we get there. Anyway, don't get yourself in a twist. I was just gettin' a late night snack at the diner. Nothin' insidious."He keeps driving as he talks, an easy cruise at this late hour when the roads are clear of the 'get the fuck home' traffic and all that's left is the angry red eyes of other cars farther down the lane. The countryside starts to pass in a blur of black shadows, trees and fence lines stark against the powder black night. Victor can almost see a few stars winking at them once they get clear of town, peaking out from behind slate grey clouds. Not much of a moon tonight, just a cats claws over the horizon. It'd be a good night to hunt, he thinks. When it's so dark, even the usual critters are quiet in their den. Catching the scent and finding them while they're still sleeping to haul 'em out and rip 'em bloody, it's a particular kind of thrill. Predators have no sense of honor, no qualms, no rules, and Victor loves being a predator, a hunter. Giving no power or quarter to what he hunts down, devouring, eating. He almost salivates at the idea at finding Jimmy's fan and smelling his fear. Maybe he'll piss himself when he sees Victor's teeth. That would be fun."But," Victor notes, one hand on the steering wheel and the other holding the cigarette, braced against the window seal. "If they are after ya, what for? C'mon, Jimmy, you can tell me. I promise I won't gab about it to anybody. I'm just curious. Ya know, it'd be easier to help ya land a job if I know what ya did."He knows he's laying it on a bit thick but it's persuasive. Sure enough, Victor can hear that engine ripping and roaring down the highway after them. Just a hill and a curve behind them, plausible deniability, just heading the same way. "Trust me. There's nothing you can do that's anything worse than i've done. But guys like us, Jimmy... we gotta stick together. Right?"zimwy' not of him. ' another lick of honesty in this sordid thing they called personhood--whom were they right now? russian or american? they supposed it was the latter. they played the role better than their fellow operatives, could fake a warm and passive smile, inherently knew city names and roadways. not so much the intercontinental highways, but the less trodden paths. why, they weren't sure. james suspected it was another.. thing, in a long line of obfuscated oddities, that gaping hole in the back of their mind that trickled memory like blood and pus from time to time. the department heads never disclosed the truth to them, they could tell; roiling beads of sweat and nervous glances when they would act out was enough to inform them of that. as american as they were russian, then. so be it. maybe new york would tell them why. maybe it'd coddle their wounds and sew them shut. maybe it'd blanch off the purpling bruises, deep in their brain, and not their skin. no, they did not fear the man on their tail, but his masters were another story, if he was sent for james. they were dogmatic and too proud to lose such a valuable weapon; one would mean ten, and ten would mean a hundred, if they didn't have a choice. black night backwoods and a silent ambush and a cry in the night was always preferrable than a daylight jumping.their knees strain into their slacks, their suit yet clinging beneath. they'd only removed it twice, now, to bathe, when afforded the rare opportunity; it's properties were overtly beneficial, as much as they were remiss to admit it, as much as they'd like to worm free from this clutching second skin. taking risks was detrimental to their safety. victor mentions shooting a man--fatally--and something inside them twinges, rubbed raw by the frankness of his statement. this was a man who had no qualms with killing, they were now very sure. and though there was a bit of bluster about him (they think of a lion and a performative mane--still deadly, but with some flashy intent), the winter soldier quickly discerns that if he has no problem with sharing that fact, he likely has the skill to back it up. when they look at him again, they're sizing him up, imperceptibly. his superior stature meant a good snag would trap them if it came to blows. they think they could get away, though, if need be; might bleed some, but james had endured worse. they remember boxing mikhail in the yard, all thousand odd pounds of him curled over their shoulder on an impact. an enemy was never an enemy on certain terms. allegiances and lines muddy, yesterday's ally tomorrow's enemy. the winter soldier knew that well, and they suspected victor did, too--the likelihood that he cared was the slim and waning thing. he didn't seem like a stupid man. he seemed calculated, rare for a man of his stature. the big ones usually got by on their strength alone. i killed him means i could kill you. even so, the winter soldier feels no tentative surge of anxiety or fear. they feared nothing; it was as if a deadened nerve, inoperable even when it would've aided them. he's not mid-atlantic, or a new englander, thats for sure. james could've discerned it in his voice; those notes are more elusive to their russian palate. maybe south-atlantic? or canadian? new york was close enough to the border, surely there were a number of migrants... they watch the road wind and unfurl before them, listing on the vibrations that rumble through the cabin what feels like every few feet. james was never one for cars or trucks. they felt evermore comfortable riding a motorcycle, or in a pick up instead of a seat. flicking to give their attention, james' eyes glimmer like two eerie black stones in the dark, drowning out all the pretty amber notes present in the light. like this, the soldier looks more haunted than human, skin flushed pink-red where the sun poured days before (the bridge of the nose, the highs of the cheek bones), their pallor otherwise unnatural. the gaps in their memory accounted for that off color. they awoke for routinely missions, snapping between the decades; one breath is vietnam, another a gulf war. the hook he offers is clear to james, and they wonder if giving him the truth would serve victor up on a platter to their betters--or, worse, if he might take it as invitation to tug on their chains, too. they didn't want to be a killer anymore. didn't want to wake to another fist around their neck, didn't want to sleep at anyone's polished boot heels. they just wanted to live, and not exist for the benefit of others. the information victor seeks is beyond classified--it's the kind of thing to go nuclear if pressed, to be wiped entirely from the annals of history. no notes, no trails, no scars; just a void where the red room and the winter soldier program and the widows and the wolf spider and all the oddities once were. could they do that to them, all to spare their own neck and wiggle free from the noose? could they let them die? maybe. yes. no. ' you've known me for all of an hour, ' james murmurs, though there is something wryly amused in it's tone, ' and you wanna see my colors? show me yours, i'll show you mine? ' their laugh, muffled on the back of their tongue, isn't meant to offend him. the situation, and perhaps his brazen audacity, the temerity of looking a weapon in it's face and asking what it was for, is just funny. they didn't trust him, but just as well, they doubted he trusted them either. ' bold strategy, but i'm not an easy gal, tiger. ' their voice is practiced, yet decidedly human; an air worn a thousand times, but somehow still closer to real for him. they somber, the smile relaxing, the impression of their dimples smoothing out. ' but.. don't get me wrong, i'm grateful. and i'll pay you for this, when i've got something to give. something more than cigarettes. ' to their name, they only possessed a few essentials and their weapons. a roll of toothpaste, a cheap toothbrush, some hand sanitizer running low, a bottle of water. they didn't carry stolen cards, paid for everything in cash to minimize their trail. very little was left. ' i didn't do anything. i left a place i didn't want to be in anymore, and it made the folks i left mad. i wasn't supposed to be able to leave. ' their jaw grinds. ' like a cult. ' #perditos#THREAD.#V. PRIMARY.#god this reply is kind of ridiculously long im sorry ily141
zimwyi think there are a few circumstances in which bucky would feel so betrayed by steve that he might give up on him in the end. and they're limited, very much so--specifically with steve and 'tasha, bucky is an 'i will do anything to save you before i resort to the last thing' kind of guy--but a few exist. i've been thinking about this for a few days...... and in general, actions steve might take that would make bucky angry or feel slighted enough to not talk to him for a while.expansion on 'lets say' scenarios beneath the cut.Keep reading#HEADCANON.
zimwyquick little mgs bucky doodle for hc purposes #MINE.#V. MGS.11
zimwyas voted by the people, bucky barnes juicy couture #i plugged in my tablet to cobble together an mgs verse design and ended up just finishing this instead snfhjefhjegmnkdg#MINE.11
zimwyheading to bed--i have been oddly nauseous all day so lets see if i can sleep thru that--but if bucky is like, scruffy, like full on flat curls and unshaven for more than a few days, he is Not Doing Well mentally. he stops taking care of himself when he's really off. when he's doing Okay at very least he shaves and washes his hair even if he might not use all the products he would to keep it healthy. but when he's having a prolonged episode of any sort, the first thing to go is self care. second is maintaining contact with his loved ones--he'll isolate, hard. sometimes someone will have to come literally drag him out of whatever bed or bunk he's rotting in to get him to try to break out of it. it doesn't help that medication likely wouldn't do much to help him and he won't go to therapy because his issues are inherently unrelatable aside from ww2 ptsd. #BUT ANYWAY#scruffy bucky or full on bearded bucky = bad time#he doesn't like how it feels on his face (itchy) and doesnt like presenting with hair on his face#so thats how you Know he's having a bad time#HEADCANON.#MISC.3
zimwyoh i do want to make it clear that i firmly believe the winter soldier was as harsh with natalia as they were with all the other widows.why would they not be? their tenderness for her was reserved for private moments, stolen glances. altogether, their actual relationship is very short, but. in terms of training? they were just as brutal, calculating, and unforgiving. if she made a mistake, it was punished. if she failed to catch them on a move they taught or are teaching her to counter, they chastise her and harm her. they've dislocated her joints--never broken her bones, at least never on purpose, as that would be needlessly cruel and too far; the goal is to make it hurt, not make her incapacitated--thrust her down hard into the mats and the ring, firm russian, ' you think anyone out there will go easy on you? in a real fight, that would've killed you. ' it was the same with all their widows. some were more responsive. some came to personally resent them for how rigid they could be. but they did make an effort to praise their girls when they could. 'good form', and 'perfectly placed, but twist your leg a bit more', and 'you're learning quick, good, do it again', etc. they taught their girls everything. not just how to fight, but how to snipe, how to handle various firearms, how to stealth and move through urban environments (they knew jungle and country too but i feel like a different instructor would be chosen for this, given department x seemed to have less control over the winter soldier than their other operatives and it'd be dangerous to let them out too long). they taught alongside a mistress and a third rotating trainer how to socialize and honey pot and charm a target that didn't respond to violence. they taught them how to interrogate, and how to execute, and how to dispose of a body when need be. if a girl came from a knowledgeable background, her lessons were adjusted to whatever she would benefit most from, from the winter soldier. the zephyrs and the wolf spider were all similarly treated, though for whatever reason i feel they would be less chatty with them compared to their girls.in the modern day, bucky still has a habit of referring to yelena and nat as his girls, and any other widow he'd come across that he had a hand in training, since the winter soldier was predominantly taken out of stasis for training between missions.#HEADCANON.7
zimwysome nsfw themed dissectionsKeep reading#HEADCANON.#NSFW.#now. i away to make supper. i think i have the stuff to make honey garlic rice so it'll be that. o73
