Real name — james buchanan "bucky" barnes.
Single or taken — verse dependent. typically single.
Abilities or powers — no explicitly unnatural powers, but is endowed with an advanced healing sense that is difficult to pinpoint the cause of. (not as potent as the big marvel regenerators, but nonetheless, bucky will walk off most injuries in days.) abilities, aside from technopathic implants and cybernetics, are purely natal and related to physical, martial, and weaponry prowess.
Hair color — a slightly darker shade than the eyes.
Family members — george james barnes, father, deceased. winnifred "winnie" barnes, mother, deceased. maksim parnes, paternal grandfather, deceased. rebecca barnes, sister.
Pets — alpine, turkish angora cat.
Something they don’t like — fascists.
Hobbies / activities — bucky doesnt have many hobbies. he'll try most things once, but he's sort of married to his work.
Ever hurt anyone before — yes. unmeasurably.
Animals that represent them — badgers, wolves, dogs, cats.
Worst habits — isolates, pushes others away, dramatic and somewhat extreme reactions, brash and headstrong at his worst, very angry. breaks stuff with his prosthetic sometimes.
Sexual orientation — bisexual with a mpreference for men.
Thoughts on marriage / kids — cool idea? used to day dream about the nuclear family. doesn't think much about it now though it is something that makes him feel a deep canyon of sadness in the middle of him.
Style preferences — varies, but typically something pretty masculine and plain (brown beaten leather or wool coat, jeans or leather riders, etc). sometimes cocktail dresses.
Someone they love — natasha. steve. sam. logan. clint. daisy. .
Approach to friendships — i mean... they're fine...? bucky's not very friendly i fear. he can be very yappy and like, charming, but you catch him on an average day and he's not going to be very talkative or actively try to be your friend.
Favourite drink — sour bourbon, cold water with a dash of fruit juice, root beer float.
Favourite place to spend time at — anywhere with his friends is his favorite, but otherwise it'd be the boroughs he grew up in
Swim in the lake or the ocean — has done both, probably prefers the lake because there is no risk of getting swept away in a tide (unless its a big lake, but even then he'd feel more safe).
Their type — badass knife-like women who are preferrably as freaky or hardened to the world as he is, strong big men who can assert themselves but like being pushed around. (small men are fine and beloved but they get extra points if big)
Camping or indoors — i would say camping but it unfortunately takes bucky back into being a soldier, so probably isn't very good for him most of the time.
' word has it you're pretty happy to follow orders. ' the comment slipped out under his breath. there was no way in hell he was rising to the bait of her asking him not to kill him, allegedly. her was natalia and alexei knew if he let himself tug on that dangled thread, the whole fucking tapestry would unravel. people who loved him?
comments flooded his mind; the soldier, the weapon, the reclaimed asset - stasis. he had taunts burning the back of his tongue and alexei had to bite down hard on the inside of his cheek to swallow the syllables back down again.
just get the job done. it was an assignment. a mission - find and eliminate the target. look at it as he would any other job he'd had in the past; ignore the fact that the ghosts of his past were very much alive and kicking.
' На его место придут еще два, ' alexei finished off, stopping short when barnes' hand closed on his shoulder, his eyes snapping up to the camera on the wall ahead - chaff scrambling the radar. heel to toe, steps angled to move swiftly along the wall while the distraction lasted. so far they had edged their way into the facility without drawing attention. the closer they got to the atrium without drawing curiosity, the better.
' ... but you got overruled. '
if bucky hears alexei's murmured retort, uttered on the soft part of his breath, he makes no indication of it--no flutter of the brow, no twinge of annoyance to settle in his jaw. his grip disengages once he can tell the mounted automatic can't follow their signatures, lets alexei dart forward of it's sweeping gaze whilst it remains inert. barnes follows, taps his prosthetic palm against the industrial sheet walls. the mapping system flashes the architectural lines back at him like film reels.
' along the southwest wall should be a staircase that feeds out into the atrium. i had to guess.. the facility's gonna be below us. probably an elevator at the bottom. ' it's where he would've hidden away anything he wanted to keep safe--buried it deep.
bucky's mouth coils into a formless arch, somewhere between annoyed and amused. irritation without real bite. ' i guess i did. ' no point in lying about it: if natalia asked him to jump, he would jump, no matter the standing or circumstance of their relationship. she could bed down into the past and run away with shostakov tomorrow, and barnes would remain dutifully at her beck and call.
he was a dog, but at least he picked his masters now. ' what about you? you're not exactly attached at my hip, Алёша. you could leave. ' the diminutive is carefully used, toothy, nippy. it asked why more than it suggested leave; why hadn't he cut and run? bucky thinks he knows, but to hear it from his own mouth intrigued him.
while i think bucky is very good at and perpetually keeps his cool on the battlefield--he's very skilled, and tempering his anger to benefit him is vital--i think he can get really aggressive and more forwardly angry when the force he's fighting is a fascist regiment. nazis, neo nazis, corrupt government, what have you; it brings out the kid he'd been in the war, who was inconsolably rage-filled and enjoyed his craft.
my sunday post is that while bucky will never send his lover photos of himself where he's identifiable (no face, and no prosthetic arm in view/it will be image induced if in frame), even if he doesn't like that they exist, he will let his lover take pictures of him.
since like three of his ship partners are artists, he's vastly preferential to being their subject of art over a subject of photography. bucky's work is still heavily reliant on subterfuge, even if more people know who he is now; unlike most public facing heroes, bucky is still a spy. but if his lover wants to take a picture of him while they're fucking him, he might cover his face, or try to, but he wont stop them.
rest assured if you ever break up with him and forget about the photos, though, he will break into your apartment to crush your phone's sd card, sorry. (though he will buy them a new one.)
' what? ' exclaimed under the breath, the winter soldier's observation comes muted, dissipating in the vented slats of their muzzle. there's not one of him, not two of him, not even three of him. five. they count five, all uniform in appearance: there was no doubt, they were organic clones. moscow had made note of his extraordinary ability (mutation? they'd been unsure of it's nature) detailed in the debriefing file, but they had no estimation of his upper limit. no indication of numbers, nothing the winter soldier could wholly anticipate. it clicks its tongue into it's teeth, it's scoff derisive and annoyed. if every duplicate shared his superior strength, a direct fight would leave the soldier outnumbered.
gloved digit comes to rest upon the receiver of their subtle communications device, impressing the signal button. ' Сэр, здесь много дубликатов. Советовать. ' the soft kssh-click of static tells them the call is received. some mumbling back and forth lulls them; they listen to two operatives, their current handlers, debate.
adjust course. approach unarmed.
they flare their frustration in an exhale through the nostrils, carefully cupping the seams of their mask. it frees with ease. good thing the soldier had a pair of civvy clothes in their mission duffel: it's quick, easy, and quiet when they slip into a public bathroom fixed at the lobby level of the complex they'd scaled to observe. slinging duffel around their shoulder, it's only weight now was their dismantled rifle contained within. the soldier fluffs up their hair, smooths a hand across their abdomen, and calmly approaches their quarry where they find him: singular, picking at what the soldier assumes is his supper in a burger joint.
' hey, ' it gestures, disarming. there was an air of convincing absence about them, confusion only a tourist might possess. ' sorry to bother you, pal, i just.. you know where any nearby hotels are? my phone battery's dead and i ain't ever been here before. '
@billyandhismultiples
send ⚠ to pick up/carry my muse | @snkts
uphill, uphill, uphill, uphill. frozen sleet, ice that picks through his boot soles, squeezes down to the bone. seventeen miles today, twenty two tomorrow. pick up the pace, ladies, he almost hears his instructor in the back of his head, get going, boy. so he goes. steve never tires: the onus of rest lies in bucky's boyish fatigue. when he wanes, namor is the first to keep him marching, hand purchased upon the small of the spine like an indignant shepherd. bucky pukes after two miles, so mckenzie drops him unceremoniously into the frigid snow. bucky collects himself, scuffs off the snow clinging to his flanks and bids himself the awaiting hike.
logan falls in behind him. maybe he'd been there the whole time, maybe not, bucky hadn't noticed and hardly cares. despite the nature of their early relationship, bucky's hammered out the vast majority of distrust, curbed his suspicion, locked his jaws around his promises. it was that he had kept his promise--that he wasn't going to hurt steve--that kept barnes' knife holstered. what did steve always say? soldiers have to trust each other, bucky.
the altitude paired with the frigid cold stimulates a vasovagal response when bucky tilts his head up to stare at the rest of the mountainside, poking black dots into the veneer of bucky's vision. he blinks something furious, takes another two steps, and starts to drop. his knees go first, heart rocketing into his brow bone. it's quick, but logan's quicker; he snaps out one wide arm, big hand balling into the back of bucky's uniform. the cloth tightens around the band of his chest, some makeshift alterations coming loose around the edges. his growth spurt had made the fit awkward. the alterations looked jerry-rigged, hand made, just to create another inch of space around his sternum. tiny white flakes of snow nest in barnes' neat coif of curls, fraying under the duress of changing weather and sweat. it was just beginning to snow, but the rich scent of earth and frozen water suggested an impending blizzard.
one moment, bucky is cascading toward the surface of the earth and snow trodden by his friends and allies, and the next, his world is swinging in place. his legs scoop out from under him, leveraged up with ease by their canadian compatriot. bucky grunts his disapproval, hissing out a reactive little 'lemme go' as logan adjusts his hold. he slings him up over one shoulder like a sack of flour, ensuring bucky's torso hung around the breadth of them, one arm furled around his frame, the other loosely resting just below the stitch line of his ass. logan keeps his palm solidly on bucky's thigh, his squeeze rather innocuous. i let you go, yer droppin' like a stone, kid. logan soundly informs, ignoring his little minute squirms.
the fight levels out in barnes, working through his slack limbs all hot and prickly. he accepts his fate with a resignated sigh. ' why's you never cold? '
zimwyi do need to put this hc out there because ive mentioned it in threads but not just as a post: bucky's voice is very malleable and he is voice trained. not as a singer or anything--though he isnt a bad singer--but for identity and infiltration purposes? yes, he can change his voice; he can drop the register lower in his chest and further masculinize it (his voice normally sits kind of in his throat), or he can bring it up into his head and speak with a voice that strongly passes as female.normally i headcanon his voice sounds about around jason marsden as boone, this is comfortable for him (it used to be higher when he was a kid but disuse and lower register has put him there), but like. he's definitely voice trained for his feminine roles and to teach some of his widows how to sound more 'appealing' especially to american men. #HEADCANON.#my wife my wife my wife1
zimwylethalforce asked:⚠ his knees might crack a little but trust that it's just because he's old, not because he's struggling to lift him.⚠ to pick up bucky | @lethalforceit's the last thing bucky thinks is going to happen when he realizes the weight he can allocate to his legs is nominal. the healing factor will kick in within the coming days, but now, in this instance, the pain is virtually blinding; it rockets up bucky's shattered shins and sends him limp to his hip, uselessly dragging the bruised tissue and fractured bone from the wreckage twined. twisted metal rips a sizeable hole through barnes' catsuit, ankle to knees, thin scarlet strips of blood welling to the surface. at least the bone wasn't thrust through the skin, but bucky knew right away, his left leg was broken and the right was catastrophically spongey. gunfire resounds in the distance, tik-tik-tiking off the crumpled steel. he hears frank curse under his breath through roaring emptied rounds, practically feels the moment his eyes land upon him, the way his focus divides cleanly in twain: barnes, he gruffs, and there's just a little more to it than normal, a little more urgency bucky would playfully call attention to in another circumstance. as frank's big hands fish under him--one coaxing him up by the wing of his false arm, all whirring metal, the other furling hard into the cloth at his hip (looser now with the gaping cleave to the legs)--bucky feels his weight concentrate in his hips, his gravitational center shifting dramatically. it's the pop of his knee that tells bucky he's being lifted. frank maneuvers him with relative ease, cradles his broken leg with one dense arm, the other bracing his back. it's a princess lift. bucky vaguely wonders if the fireman was giving him trouble--disproportionate weight, after all. ' my hero, ' bucky groans, thick and smokey in his throat, and its all he can do not to scream about the pain. ' s'you do care, frank. i knew it. saw you actin' all soft on me when we-- ' there's a sidearm in a death grip in frank's hand, braced into bucky's spine that he feels when he begins to move. bucky clings to castle with his right arm, gestures with his heavier left, ' gimme th' gun, just cause i can't walk doesn't mean i can't shoot. ' #lethalforce#RESPONSE.#PROMPT.#smiles so sweetly#a brat even when he broke his legs :/1
zimwyeye for an eye mac quayletlou 2#sound of getting sniped through the eyeball#MUSIC.1
zimwy' there you are! ' these strings of coincidental meetings are beyond coincidental. they're carefully crafted, tapping into the winter soldier's robust arsenal of weaponry: the sort that sat beyond firearms and blades. the natural charm of their dimpled grin, or their giddy saunter as they approach him at the bar sectional, non-threatening and dripping warmth. their curls bob around their head, thick, maintaining a new sheen; their appearance is curated to find something weapon x would find pleasing, but not too pleasing.attractive, but not suspiciously so. familiar, but not provocative of muscle memory. no one he knows, except as they presented themself in clean, middle-american dialect: jamie, nice to meet'ya. the soldier claps their hand into logans shoulder, a very simple prosthetic fitted where their absent limb had been. the blocky false hand remains still, nothing more than a cosmetic accoutrement to create a sense of progression. ' look at this thing! my orthopedic doctor fitted me with it.. i was gettin' real irritated about all my shirts fitting funny. logan! come dance with me! ' their natal hand spreads warmly where it'd landed, cupping the wealth of muscle beneath. god, he was solid. ' come on, come on, please, i love this song. ' gingerly, they slip their palm across his forearm, furling into his fingers. the gesture is universally understood, gentle tugging toward the backline of their hips. put it here and dance with me. the dedicated flooring was spotted with couples swaying to the beat of the track, but not so populated they lacked space to join. ' and there's nobody i'd rather dance with. ' @snkts#snkts#THREAD.#V. TBT.#might make a whole thing of this#in my head theyre dancing to ecstasy by crooked still but1
zimwyrotdame asked:" can i sketch youse?? " bats her lashes. " pretty please? "the way bucky moves is with overt artistry, a routine followed in the footnotes of his autonomous system: performed again and again with such familiarity it writ into his muscle memory. one, two, three, a demonstrative mix of ballet and gymnastic exercise guiding him across the room. one corner to another, back, forth, bucky sluices through the open air and lands on pointed toes, twirls arabesque in a trio of circles. bucky only stops to bunch his palm against his brow where his hairline met his forehead, swiping away a healthy swath of beading sweat. ' sketch me? ' bucky breathes, pivoting to face tara. he's a little messy, a bit warm, flush heat matting some stray curls into his temple. like this, the taut lines of his thighs give way to the visible crux of his hips, belly-line peering from between ends of fabric. absently, he picks at the lip of his leggings, pulls them up a little higher. ' but i'm all gross. '@rotdame#rotdame#RESPONSE.#my pc is having a massive fit and wont show me my icons so. no icon for this1
zimwyRebloggedsnktsLogan braces himself. He knows what’s coming. He always knows. He’s endured it over and over again. Any time he acted out, or mouthed off, or disobeyed, or had an attitude, or showed his teeth, or used a tone, or didn’t react fast enough or slow enough or the right way, too close to the door when he wasn’t meant to leave, got too loud, asked questions, spoke at all, stood straight– At least, this time, it’s not intentional - and if the world has any mercy, it will be the last time. (The world is never merciful. He knows that, too.) But he doesn’t resist. (Knows better than that, too.) He just closes his eyes and waits. He can hear the whirring of Bucky’s hand. He’s heard it before. It’s the hand, nothing else. (Not sensors. Not the machines. Those are gone. He’s getting out. God, he’s getting out-)And it hurts. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts– The vines from the interior of the collar are pulled out from where they’d burrowed into his neck. The scents of the pit - the damp earth, the misery, rotting gore, sick, sweat, chemical, decaying branches, fills with fresh blood and scorched skin and metal. His skin, Bucky’s metal. Both of them. He feels the hot copper of blood dripping to his clavicle. The searing agony of the injuries closing over. The fangs of the electricity closing around him-Then nothing. It's over. … It's over? Is it really? Not just the collar - that had taken only an instant. Everything else is what’s hitting him. The reality of it all is a slow wave ebbing at the shores of his battered psyche. Hope felt like a dirty word, an illegal dream. The idea of escape… It still feels impossible to believe. That it’s over. He brings his hand to his throat, and feels only flesh beneath his fingers. It’s been so long. How long? He doesn’t know. It doesn’t matter. He’s out.He’s finally out. Almost out. Don’t count your chickens before they hatch, Logan. You’re still in the pit. Still on the island. Still in danger. “You said it.” He rasps. It’s still hard to talk, still hurts, but it’s getting easier. He looks up to the top of the hole and squints. Christ, it’s bright. It makes his eyes burn, so he has to look away, scrubbing his face against his arm. A quick shake of his head, and his vision clears. Who put him here?The question makes him tense again. He knew, yeah, he knew. All too well.Logan closes his eyes again, but this time, it’s not because of the nigh-unfamiliar light of the sun or the pain of an electric jolt. He knows exactly who put him here, and it’s part of the reason he hasn’t been able to get out. “Hank.” He says, grimacing at the sour taste it leaves on his tongue. “Beast. … And Hope, Sage… Pretty sure the entire Five, they know. The Council, too. Don’t know how many had their hands in the pot, but they know.” He opens his eyes again, but doesn’t look at Bucky - just stares at the ground with a pained attempt at his usual steadiness across his face. Don’t break, not yet. Not here. Stay on task. “I dunno who else is involved.” He continues, standing by the end of the cord. “Could be just them, could be everyone. Either way, anyone sees me, may as well assume it’s a code red.” That taste is even worse. These were his people. A lot of them were his friends. Some of them were supposed to be his family. Even they had wound up being just like everyone else. When there’s space, Logan grips the cord tightly, bracing one foot against the knobby wall and climbing towards the sun by his own will - not under orders, not as an animal, but as a person. For however long it lasts, he can (pretend to) be a person again. “Hope you got a plan for that.” He finishes, then pauses as he climbs. “... Or some pants.”zimwyhank... beast. hope. sage. the five. the council. names and terms bucky knows through merit of connections and intelligence, surveillance agents who could work their way around mutant protocols and powers. highly competent, some his own students; it was always nice to pull a throng of youths out of the trapping pit of the red room, keep them from russia's unsavory legacies. his quiet inquisitions had not gone unanswered. ' uh.. no pants. sorry. i didn't consider that. i've got some civvy clothes on my submersible, but i don't think they're gonna fit you, pal. ' rare as it was, for something to remain unaccounted for in the revolution's gambit. ' the one who'll be a big problem for me if she catches us is the telepath. emma? ' although bucky had received training and implants that resisted telepathic intrusion, one of her caliber likely circumvented those barricades: the wall didn't matter if she could just knock it down. ' came with tranq rounds.. borrowed some remote power dampeners outta fury's old stash, you throw 'em and they latch onto whoever they hit. got some live rounds, too, but.. i'm not going to use 'em unless you tell me, logan. ' bucky's meaning is clear, and he lingers on it no longer. ' fixer put an EMP in my arm years ago, so magneto can't do anything to either of us if you stick close. it's got a shield that keeps it safe, but the radius is pretty good sized. ' leveraging his weight into the rappel, bucky takes it quick, but not too quick--careful not to dislodge any of the earthen wall, careful not to give logan a hard time, or a reason to slow. as he reaches the apex of the hole, he thrusts his false arm out to brace his weight, easily crawling up over the lip. still in the clear, so far. krakoa's wooden mouth twines and pulls, but it casts no aggressive retort, still firmly sedated. ' strong enough telepath like that gal, though, and i'm.. you know. ' it was in there, in wet, red, enflamed pockets: the soldier who'd do anything they were told, a mindless weapon craving guidance. use. ' i doubt many of them could take either of us in a physical fight, at least. not th' ones who'd care about this. ' you still have friends, bucky thinks, it can't be all of them. he turns on a swivel, extends his hand down for logan to take. all his weight congeals into strain points--bucky's rifle-heavy arms, his dense thighs, his jaw clenched until logan is on his feet. from his exterior thigh, he alleviates a sidearm, disengages biometric locks, and hands it over to logan. ' look--you need one. it'll do the least amount of damage, it's just tranqs. ' taking only a moment to get his bearings, barnes takes point, allowing himself the most vulnerable position in order to protect his friend. so what if they killed him? it could afford logan the opportunity to run. he wanted to die, anyhow, deep down. the island stretches and grumbles. ' you know, logan, i gotta ask why there're nazis on krakoa. i know it ain't you--i know you'd kill them without a second thought. what the hell is wrong with your friends? ' #snkts#THREAD.#V. PRIMARY.#this reply is a little short i am sorry83
zimwymakes big eyes at all of you. please like this if i can write you something small for the winter soldier.#OOC.#TBD.#i care them and they need more enrichment whether its hunting your muse for sport escorting them as a guard or#playing a role around them to get to something their bosses want#etc. will approach if i wanna plot some more.… See all8
zimwyamericas ass or whatever#this is a VERY QUICKLY DONE stupid shitpost#and a reminder that bucky was cap for YEARS. it was his first real arc after being reintroduced#and lasted for like over five years which is a long time in comics#MINE.#suggestive cw… See all310
zimwyKeep reading#HEADCANON.#NSFW.4
zimwyRebloggedrussiasredguardian' ah, so you're still following someone else's orders - got it. ' the smirk on his face would put the cheshire cat to shame as alexei settled the stock of his rifle to his shoulder, gaze lingering for just a beat too long as he stepped past barnes to take up point. figures he'd have him point; the most exposed position in a formation and an assassin to his back. that was a shit enough situation without factoring in their intertwisted pasts; a part of him wondered whether the soldier knew his role in half of it? did he know that vasili karpov had raised him since he was a teenager? or better yet, that he'd been raised alongside lukin?he doubted it. not even natalia had known that.' no debrief, ' alexei commented, a tinge of annoyance in his voice as he snapped his attention back to what was in front of him, ' it's your operation, remember barnes? 'zimwy' she asked me not to kill you. but, you know me: i like breaking rules. ' his meaning goes unspoken, petulantly kept under tongue. he liked taking orders, it just had to be from the right person; the right instructions, the backtrack of morality barnes could trust implicitly, and not himself. maybe alexei could, or would, figure that out: that the hands fitting the collar and pulling the leash mattered to him. ' i'll take a thousand orders from the people who love me over one from the old country. or you. ' the way he rolls his eyes betrays his years of conditioned calm, all the fiery spirit in him undirected without a hand at the till. ' we're going to kill the red skull. can't do that until we get through his contingencies. this is one of them. ' bucky takes a careful step, angling himself in a way that allowed him to observe the path behind them, eliminating blind spots. he might not trust alexei's feelings and thoughts and motivations, but he trusted his trigger-hand and his skill. for now, anyway. ' отрубите им головы, and all that. it's not enough, the clones he's got squirreled away have to die too. we don't know how many there are, but there's at least one here. the atrium of the facility is going to be guarded and secured. i said i could do this myself, but.. ' bucky drifts. didn't need him. don't need him. but.. but--could use him, thats all this was. he claps his natal hand into alexei's strong shoulder to stop him; professionalism tampers barnes' frustration. ' hold on. armed camera up ahead. ' fishing into his beltline of tools, bucky prompts a chaff dispenser fixed with a pullable pin, yanks said pin free, and tosses it like a grenade. the ignition system breaks the fiberglass cannister and thrusts the chaff into the air, sending the radar system on a fritz. #russiasredguardian#THREAD.#V. PRIMARY.#i am so sorry for the length of this#t: cutting off the heads6
zimwything im working on as a present for @emmatriarchy :)uncensored #OOC.#TBD.#NSFW.1
zimwyRebloggeddefyxoblivionDane is still coming to his senses; with one arm he pulls himself up. The other holding Bucky and all but dragging him up with him. Still pressed against his chest. Still his princess. He kept holding him, second arm moving around him.Maybe if he held him close he could keep Bucky safe. Keep the world, the curse, from ripping him away. "Princess..." his hand traces along the man's back, running up his spine. "I... I'm broken. I... how do I..."Looking away, he chewed on his lip. The Curse swelled inside him. He felt Sersi's lips on his cheek. His eyes closed, for a moment, before they opened and he looked down at Bucky. "When Sersi had me... I was hers. Bound in flesh and soul. After that... after being her plaything... I never thought I'd... be worthy. I thought she carved out everything someone could ever want. Ate it up."His had ran along Bucky's cheek, and he was glad it was dark enough that the tear running down his cheek went unseen. "You don't want to marry me... I'm poison. I'm disgusting. Filthy."zimwyit's the way his chest stutters when he breathes, the tensing of muscle in his forearm when he caresses him, that tells bucky how dane's feeling, even more so than what he says. as an agent of espionage, it was beyond important that the winter soldier understand the art of reading cues, body language both conscious and unconscious, to understand a target inside and out. maybe it began when they met, but bucky likes to think he's relatively in tune with what dane wants, what he thinks, the deep and primal parts. he rolls it all over in his mind, lets his mouth work into frustrated bunches, left, then right. finally, bucky pries himself clean and gentle out of dane's grasp, not to rescind from his proximity or their shared intimacy, but to adjust his position. bucky pushes him back easily, crawls across his lap, sits over dane's navel. it's only a few inches from turning the scene from placid and innocent and a little morose to something starving and famished and all too warm. still, the way he bends over so they're face to face bears incredible affection; his hair slips around his shoulders, a springy curtain to his pinched brow and stern stare. ' dane. ' the way he says his name is like a plea, begging to get under his skin and see every part of him. ' look at me, baby. first of all--fuck her, that'll never happen to you again. never. okay? second of all, that's not fair. you can't talk like that, like i'm any different. because--'cause if you're sick and.. poison, so am i. ' he strokes the flattest part of his palm against the seam of dane's jaw where it connects with his ear, thumb coursing the soft part of his lobe, tickled by his sideburn hairs. ' the red room.. the winter soldier program.. my girls... my students. we're all..--all of us, they used all of us. we did anything they said. do you think i'm fucked up? y'think that was fair? no?--why treat yourself different, if you won't do it to me? 'finally, bucky relaxes, letting himself slump forward. he folds impressively, legs still tucked into dane's sides, framing his physique. ' if you don't want to, i won't ask again. ' #defyxoblivion#THREAD.#V. PRIMARY.#uff this thread#if anyone wants some specific tag for topic discussion please ask4
zimwyhey so this is perhaps a weird post but i want to make it for my own purposes tbh: if you are okay with me drawing your char in nsfw situations with bucky please like this post.#SOMETIMES I casually think abt other ppls chars on my dash even if we're not explicitly shipping#but i feel guilty/bad/weird bc we arent explicitly shipping#basically i want to know if the vibes are correct you're fine with it lmao#OOC.#TBD.#NSFW.#this is a reminder i am primarily a nsfw artist again. i draw sfw all the time but nsfw is what im 'monetized' for… See all112
zimwycloser (trance static x mix)nine inch nails + static x#this is a fucking insane mix and really fits the sick dark vaguely lustful theme i want the winter soldier to portray#MUSIC.2
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zimwyRebloggedrussiasredguardianthe enemy of my enemy was my friend, right?fuck no. the enemy of my enemy was still an enemy, we just had a common goal now. the same as that old adage about the red thread of fate. it was a lie. that thread was a rope that lashed two people together and then tied them to an anchor.the way the muscle in the soldier's jaw tensed didn't go unnoticed, nor did how he bared his teeth - same as a dog. karpov and lukin's dog.' am i meant to thank you? ' alexei drawled, brows arched in feigned confusion, but it only lasted a fleeting second before the former red guardian let a genuine laugh grate at the back of his throat - bucky? not a hope in the depths of hell he'd utter that moniker, ' i'll eat my own gun before i call you that , barnes. 'zimwy' it's not me you should be thanking. ' a pause as they turn a corner, eyes on the horizon, barnes scoffs, ' oh, yeah? then at least i'll be entertained when you go out. ' saying nothing more of it, the line of bucky's shoulders stiffens up into something solid and form-following; alexei sends him years away, if only for a few moments. the kid he'd been in the war, to the public, was bucky, unidentified beyond a plucky pubescent tenor and a white smile. to his coworkers and fellow soldiers, barnes might as well have been a call sign.not that he'd ever talk about something like that with alexei, of all people. of all his friends and team-mates, he was, perhaps, the least inclined. calling him anything but alexei is begrudging, spoken in the voice of someone else. like natalia or yelena or anyone who cared more than he did. ' they give you any debriefing, or throw you at me blind? ' #russiasredguardian#THREAD.#V. PRIMARY.6
zimwyfrom here. @russiasredguardiandamn, if he couldn't kick his past out of bed (the visual that conjures sends a ludicrous hammer right to bucky's brain, a tremor of disgust down his back). here it was, come to haunt him, dig his little nails in. bucky clamps his teeth together, lets alexei see them, the tension held in his squared jaw. his exhale is mean, expelling some of that frustration like debriding an infected wound. ' this is my operation, shostakov. the only reason i haven't put one in the back of your head is because the people i love asked me not to. ' more like a whispered, terse plea, coming with caveats and conditions and furrowed brows: he's useful, play nice, we need the help. ' do as you're fucking told. ' a vague, but coherent gesture follows: a forward tilt of his rifle. ' take point. and it's bucky. ' #russiasredguardian#THREAD.#V. PRIMARY.#what Operation this is... i have no idea.. we're winging it here ok#u are more than welcome to hop in my dms if you want to plot out something but im content winging it and shrugging my shoulders#buckys a spicy kitten im sorry… See all6
zimwywhile i think bucky is more than capable of remaining platonic only / very close friends with natasha i do think he is EXTREMELY judgmental of her partners (hers, and steves), to the point he gets jealous in not a typical 'ex boyfriend' way but in a 'best friend' way if that makes sense.#HEADCANON.#nat is his best friend. she and steve are his ride-or-dies#he would do anything for them which means he has high standards FOR them#the fact nats other two big love interests are clint and matt???? scandalous#he thinks clint is an annoying asshole half the time and his only experience w dd was fighting him#all he knows about matt is he is a SLUT genuinely thats it.#hes begging her to develop better taste… See all1
zimwyRebloggedfreq141-12 Hal grimaces at the answer. The same had happened to Gray Fox, and, if Hal's stolen files are true, a dozen or more former Genome Soldiers had been given the same treatment. It makes him feel a little guilty for even toying with it as a solution for Snake's aging. All of the science would come with a legacy of torture and abuse. "I'm sorry that happened to you," Hal says, because there's nothing else he can say. "It seems science can never create something without hurting at the same time. There's people out there right now who might be going through something similar." He lifts his brows at the sight of Bucky removing the prosthetic. A surprise he hadn't expected. The guilt lingers as he sets it on the table, curiosity fighting with the need to know. He hesitates to touch, now, acutely aware of his own not-so-minor role in the progression of war in the world. "You didn't have to do that..." Hal says as he succumbs to curiosity and runs his fingers over the smooth metal. It's nothing like he's seen before. An entirely different make and model to whatever Gray Fox had become, but similar in function. He has thoughts and ideas of how it all works. It's likely all wrong. Hal is an engineer, but he knows very little about bio-mechanics. "I'm surprised it's removable. I would have thought it was attached to your nerves..." A pause. "This isn't exactly my area of expertise. I've designed...battle tanks, weapons...things I don't want to build anymore. Very different from something like this. So, this has all the functions of an organic arm, is that right?" zimwy' you were making eyes at her for half an hour, its the least i can do for you. ' there's a bit of that stubborn, fiery youth in him, surfacing in the crinkle of his eyes or the subtle indentation his dimples press into the hollows of his jowls. yeah, maybe realistically he should hate someone like doctor emmerich, for his naivete if nothing else, but barnes just doesn't have it in him: hal's been good to him, leagues departed from the invasive and presumptuous hands of a red room scientist. bucky gives him a little passive shrug. ' no skin off my nose, doc. maybe you can learn, help with it's upkeep. ' the corner of his mouth raises, a less-than-subtle wink suggesting he's only joking. ' i can feel when it's touching something, and.. pressure, when i use it. but that's it. no hot or cold, no pain. ' except for phantom, he dully thinks, files it away; surely doctor emmerich can make that assumption. ' otherwise, yeah. i guess it's like having numb skin. there aren't any sensors in the metal, and if you could break it i wouldn't feel a thing. but.. there's a heating module, and a camo inducer so i can make it look real when i need to. there's a blade in the forearm i can drop out into my hand, and the fingers have little claws under the tips. ' the hand demonstratively furls into a fist, even detached. ' --sorry. i, uh.. i don't.. when i'm.. disconnected from it, i can move it. i can feel you touching it. i don't know how. ' #freq14112#THREAD.#V. PRIMARY.#goaahahah he's going to endear himself to bucky very fast i fear51
zimwyRebloggedperditosAll he knows is that Bucky told him he was going to 'change into something special.' Just trying something that he bought out. Which left the floor open to a lot of exciting possibilities like a special outfit or lingerie. But Steve, wisely, figures that his best bet is to keep watching the ball game and wait for Bucky to come back. So, he does, marveling at how amazing it is that an event hundreds of miles away can be cast live into his living room in high definition, on a device that didn't cost all that much, actually, and with only a few second delay of events. It's almost as good as being in the bleachers; certainly more comfortable, sitting on his own couch. Even if his eyes cast quick glances towards the bedroom door every so often, resisting the urge to check on Bucky to make sure he was okay. But luck would have it that the batter made a big swing for the benches just when the bedroom door unlatches and so Steve is looking away, grinning to see a home run. Before he hears the shuffle of fabric and footsteps, and now he looks. Steve peels up from the couch, the game forgotten, and in the same gesture finds the remote, mutes the TV, all without breaking sight with Bucky. He doesn't have the right words to describe the sight. He's seen Bucky in a dress before but something about the glimmering satin, bringing out the bronze-pinks of his cheeks, and the barely there clinging to the narrow width of his hips is new. Set in the quiet, intimate space of their apartment where everything is muted by the plus fabric and cushions of furniture, the familiar trappings of their everyday life. It's just them, no outside viewers. This is all for Steve. He lets himself appreciate, soak in Bucky, coming around the back of the couch. He can see the slight tension in Bucky's shoulders, even as he makes the slow turn. That he's nervous and yet, more than titillation of seeing his partner dressed so lovingly, was the satisfaction that he looked comfortable. The only judgement that Bucky feared was Steve's."It looks... great, Buck," he manages to start, tilting his head to get a new angle at where the fabric bunches along his ribs. "You look beautiful."He pauses then, unsure if he can or should touch. Steve almost doesn't want to. Wants to let this moment hang where it lies."But more important," he adds. "Do you feel good? Do you like it?"zimwyit looks great. you look beautiful. those words should make him happy, should fill him, rise with him. instead, bucky just sort of takes them as they come, lets them sit somewhere burning away at his lungs, as if he'd inhaled them, sticking sap and smoking fumes; he keeps his breath held in a way that inflates his ribs before he forces it all out in a slow, tremorous exhale. he wasn't performing for anyone. wasn't playing a role. wasn't pursuing a lead, or pretending to be a pretty gal to worm his way bedside some undercity kingpin (not that one) that only entertained women before he'd slit his throat. it wasn't a costume to peel off, to reveal something fraudulent raw and naked beneath. mama always told him to mind his manners, but he forgets them now, his unsteady and breathy laugh under steve's gentle scrutiny anything but appropriate or couth. ' do i? ' like this, shoulders tight and thick, firm hands on rifle-broadened arms (if steve looked, he could probably find the muscle in his right arm that controlled the pull of the bolt action), dense pectoral muscles and only sparse fat--he didn't feel very beautiful. he felt like a liar, playing charades. steve was just too sweet to tell him otherwise, or too naive to notice. maybe both. bucky knew he wasn't stupid, but equally he knew how god damned sincere he was. it was coming from a place of kindness.' i feel like a ten pound sausage in a five pound skin. ' still, the dress was fitted correctly. it accentuated his waist line and the powerful curve of his thighs, creating the illusion of a fuller waist, plunged low where breasts would be. bucky reaches out, affectionately caressing the tract of one of steve's wrists. his thumb curls across the nest of veins, grounded by the subtle pulse that returns to him. ' like a gosling among ducklings. y'know? i.. i'm nervous. ' #perditos#THREAD.#V. PRIMARY.#gender dysphoria cw21
zimwydont you know i love u (extended)joji#MUSIC.#whatever bro#TBT.
zimwygood boy full here.#MINE.#i didnt intend for the top to be bob but the shoe fit that way so.....#NSFW.#IM SO SORRY for all thye ficking PORN instead of writing#im gonna be here tomorrow afternoon when i come home i swear13
zimwyon honeymoon full here plus related scrap meant to be from the same scene#this is Simply A Doodle for sunday i think#saw smth on my twitter timeline that very much inspired me. needed to see bucky bent in stockings#BUT. i made him too petite looking so im leaving it instead of fixing it#MINE.#NSFW.… See all4
zimwysome nsfw thoughts Keep reading#HEADCANON.#anyway what im saying is bucky gets off on mild humiliation#NSFW.3
zimwytwo more scrap doodles, VERY NSFW. #scrap meaning 'i am not going to fix or color or line this and leaving it as is'#MINE.#they're straight up too nsfw for me to preview you just have to use the hyperlinks i fear#last two words are separate links#NSFW.… See all4
zimwysnkts asked:🧲 :)))send 🧲 for a list of what my muse finds attractive about yours | @snktsthe urge to tease settles and dies on the back of bucky's tongue, swallowed with a turn of the head to gather his bearings. bucky smooths his thumb across logan's jaw, affection concentrated in the caress toward his sideburns. ' you really like putting me on the spot, huh? ' barnes hums, narrowed eyes portraying the wealth of his amity as sincere. he was a good liar, but logan demanded no lies: bucky wouldn't give them. ' oh, baby--where d'we start? i like your sharp eyes. like you see everything, even when i'm hiding it. it's.. good. your furrowed brow and the scowl sure make a girl feel special. ' alright, so logan can tolerate a little teasing. bucky's subtle smirk blooms into an unrestrained grin. but when he settles, some vulnerability opens him up, takes his place. makes him pliant. ' i don't know, you're... you understand me. i can always come back to you. i'm never alone when i know i've got you, logan. i'm safe. no one's gonna hurt me again. i'm--.. i can be bucky, and not.. 'not a patchwork of failed identities. not a soldier. not a weapon. ' .. you're a good man. the way you are with the kids makes me feel.. ' he dismisses the thought with a wave of the hand before it can balloon into something of further gravity, something that revealed more than he wanted, something that made him feel like bare nerve ends. fanciful dreams of family stay rooted in his head: instead, he shamelessly brings his hand to crest logan's chest. his palm presses into the muscle, fingers curling appraisingly. ' all this is just a bonus. ' barnes leans in, just for logan's ears, the soft pads of his lips two red-pink petals ghosting the shell of his lobe, ' when i can feel how big and strong you are, it drives me crazy. if you let me, i'd never take my hands off ya, tiger. ' #snkts#RESPONSE.#PROMPT.#hoooh.1
zimwyemmatriarchy asked:🧲 bishop. Give it up for lucas. C'mon. the hook that catches bucky pins him in place, runs his skin hot, sends a nervy little titter through his diaphragm. he laughs, sticks his hand into the shag of his hair (untrimmed, a little denser and longer than it'd been just months beforehand, removed of the cowl.) ' oh, i--geez.. ' yeah, the majority of his friends and coworkers were stunning--didn't make this any less provocative in it's own way, thud-thudding his heart into the xylophone of his ribcage. it meant he had to think about it, categorically. ' bishop?--.. i mean, the obvious part is that he's handsome. pretty eyes. strong jaw. strong guy. and big. i, uh, like big guys. but, the real thing is.. you spend a day around the guy and you'd get it: he's disciplined and determined and.. you know you're gonna be alright. ' a warm, disarming smile impresses bucky's dimples, consumed by thought. ' kind've guy that i think i'd have even trusted at my worst, either to finish the job or bring me home. ' send 🧲 for a list of what my muse finds attractive about yours | @emmatriarchy#emmatriarchy#RESPONSE.#PROMPT.#okay i am Weak.1
zimwyfull doodle here.#1. this is VERY lazy this is a SCRAP doodle and not a painting or anything okay. i didnt fix anything.#so. take my paintings as a judgment of my skill and not this akndaDHJWDHW#2. i didnt set out with the intent for the top to be frank but you know when the shoe fits.#MINE.#NSFW.#bucky being very deadly and capable yet also not very big compared to all the other male chars makes me :)… See all1
