#zemothethirteenth

[thecoldsoldiers]

➡️

Send ➡️ for a starter of 1940’s Bucky in the future

The last thing Bucky could remember was drinking far too much until his head ached. That wasn’t the concerning part, it was the warmth of the person who laid under him. Bucky groaned as he sat up, holding his head. Hangovers were the worst. He jumped a little as a cat mrrped at him and he tried to shush it. He didn’t remember whose bed he had ended up in but he needed to get back before someone caught them. He looked down at the sleeping figure. “Cute.” He murmured quietly.

He slid out of bed, grabbing his pants and his jacket. He had to find where the howlies were. He slid his pants on and tossed the heavy jacket over his shoulder, walking out to the kitchen and he grunted in surprise. “Where am I?” This certainly wasn’t what he remembered. Just how much had he drank?

>> @zemothethirteenth

[what-the-stark]

❝You’re slutty, not easy. There’s a difference, semantically.❞

Orange is the New Black Starters || Accepting

"And semantically, you illustrate that the difference is negligible."

[theprinceofwakanda]

zemothethirteenth asked: ❛If the world chooses to become my enemy, I will fight like I always have.❜

T'Challa knew that the world would ultimately see the other like this, an enemy that must be stopped. Yet, he felt it was his responsibility that justice was given in an appropriate manner. Even if all of Wakanda was against his choice, the decision was final on his part. That this man would live, and see another day shine. Was it a mistake? He couldn't know the future, but at the present moment it felt right.

"That is for you to decide, and only if you wish to continue with your vengeance do I see it becoming your reality. This world may not be ready to take on a man with so much pain in his heart..." He took a step closer towards the other, knowing the danger that may be there behind that forlorn mask the other wore so perfectly well. "But I will be."

@zemothethirteenth

[brumalshadow]

zemothethirteenth pardoned the white wolf : "I'm sorry I didn't warn you." Despite the dry night, Zemo was wet. He might've crawled right out of the river for the way he was dripping, and his clearly prison-issued clothing was in less than stellar shape, torn in a few places. In the dark it was difficult to tell whether the thing that seemed to be sticking out of his arm - occasionally peering through the fabric if he moved just right - was a shard of glass or metal, but whatever he'd been through, Zemo appeared oblivious to it. There was a wild look to his eyes, and yet he seemed paradoxically sedated, calm and still in the dark.

The rhythmic hum of the dishwasher echoed through the kitchen as it cycled through its final stage. He took this as his cue to settle into a chair, absently flicking through the pages of a book. ( His metal arm, detached and in need of yet another thorough cleaning, lay within. ) By now, this had become a part of his routine, though it always felt unsettling to be without it. Over time, he had come to accept the arm as an extension of himself, especially after the Wakandans had personalised it, removing the remnants of HYDRA's sinister influence in more ways than one.

Outside, the world had been enveloped in darkness, yet sleep was a distant prospect. The blankets, haphazardly arranged on the floor in front of the TV, waited for the moment when exhaustion would finally claim him. He doubted that moment would come soon; he was accustomed to pushing through fatigue, avoiding the nightmares that lurked in slumber. ( One thing he was sure of, however, was that he wasn’t expecting any visitors. ) So, when he sensed a presence outside, a jolt of tension surged through him. Carefully, he reached for the gun that was always within arm's reach and crept toward the door. Opening it, he muttered a soft curse under his breath. 

Zemo? Well, at least he hadn’t pulled the trigger prematurely.

‘How the hell are you even here?’ he muttered, the irritation fading as he took in Zemo’s dishevelled appearance. The unexpected apology caught him off guard, and he quickly assessed the situation. His eyes narrowed at the object embedded in Zemo's arm, a sight that made him grimace. ( Without hesitation, he gestured for Zemo to come inside, but not before his instincts as a soldier kicked in, prompting him to ensure he hadn’t been followed. ) It was evident that Zemo was in some kind of trouble, and despite their complicated history, he wasn’t about to turn him away, even if caution urged him to remain vigilant. The gun stayed firmly in his grasp, a necessary precaution as he felt oddly exposed without his prosthetic.

‘Hurry up before someone sees you. You have some explaining to do.’

[ofcrimsonenchantresses]

“Strange place to fall asleep.”

“It’s good for the back, I have an injury from New York.” Wanda told him without opening her eyes as she lay on the rug in the Latvian townhouse. Now that Bucky and Sam had dragged her on this stupid adventure all across Asia and Europe, she was very jet lagged. She still thought this whole plan was stupid but she wasn’t about to let the boys wander off and get in trouble.

She thought for a moment, then shrugged. “I’ve slept on worse than this.” She added, her fingers brushing through the rug. It probably cost more than the rent on her first apartment with Pietro, if it could be called that.

[vvolfstare]

Relationship/Romanticism Headcanon Meme

Name: James Buchanan Barnes Nickname: Bucky Relationship(s) status: Verse-dependent Gender: Cismale Romantic orientation: Pansexual Preferred pet names: Acceptable if they're not hideous distortions of his name or otherwise too cutesy. He uses a lot of "baby/babe," "doll," and "sweetheart" with his partners. Opinion on true love: 100% exists, whether it's platonic or romantic Opinion on love at first sight: Attraction at first sight, absolutely, but not love How romantic are they?: His views on romance have changed quite a bit over time. Before the war, it was nights on the town, drinks and dancing and charm, but nothing particularly lasting. Post-HYDRA, his idea of romance is, quite simply, a partner who stays despite all the complications of being with the former Winter Soldier. Ideal physical traits: Somewhat athletic or at least able to defend themselves in some capacity. It's dangerous standing too close to him, and he can't have any more victims on his conscience. Ideal personality traits: Patient, understanding, loyal, probably a bit reckless as a necessity Unattractive physical traits: Not that important Ideal date: An old sci-fi movie at the theater, maybe drinks and conversation after Do they have a type?: Big dumb hero comes to mind (Steve, Clint, Sam), but it's not a hard and fast rule. Big dumb villain works sometimes too (Brock). Average relationship length: Pre-war, maybe a few weeks, nothing too substantial. Post-HYDRA, he's pretty much one and done unless a very patient muse can sneak up on his feelings, and then you've got a Winter Soldier for life. You really should have checked how long that kind of thing lives before you got one. Preferred non sexual intimacy: He's more of an acts of service partner. He has to be very settled in a relationship to get comfortable with casual touching, and it's still easier to accept sexual advances over genuine softness. Commitment level: Ridiculously, absurdly, unreasonably loyal. If he's in, he's in it forever. Opinion on public affection: People are going to gawk at him anyway. It might as well be for something enjoyable for once. You really want to start a staring contest with this guy? Past relationships: Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanoff (either platonic or romantic, verse depending, but significant either way)

@zemothethirteenth thank you for the tag, lovely!

tagging: @falliblexpenance (Clint), @pleinsdemuses (Lily), @theking-blackheart-muses (Tyler), @brooklynbred, @sioraiocht (Steve), @fangsforhire, @murder-popsicle, @skullsandsteel

[biblicallyaccuratemcuarchive]

🃏🎲 (For Nat)

Draw a Card | The Randomizer decided 4♣ - Receiver's muse plays a winning hand, but the game was very close. This hand was the tiebreaker, and the sender's muse has lost.

Oh, there is no feeling quite so sweet as this - victory over a worthy adversary, if ever there was one. Not Barnes, no, who'd been reduced to his underwear an embarrassingly long time ago. But Zemo? He'd given Natasha cause for concern, up till the very end. Now, however, as she spreads those cards on the table top between them...She feels those nerves melt away.

A smile curls the corners of crimson-painted lips, all smug satisfaction as Natasha leans back in her seat, and cocks her head thoughtfully to one side.

"I believe that's my win, boys." She purrs, elated to see the furrow between James' brows deepen. There's a part of her that's tempted to tease him about the chances of his face freezing that way - but the look he aims in her direction after discourages her from following through.

[bagrovyystrazh]

"Do you miss them? Your daughters, I mean."

"I mean.... Yes." Alexei admitted after a moment of thinking about his answer. "They are big now but.... Mission was long, i raised them. Yes... Yes i miss them."

[thecoldsoldiers]

A/B/O Randomizer

The mission was supposed to be straightforward, take out the target, eliminate the Alpha silently and slip back to his handlers before anyone noticed but somewhere along the way everything had gone wrong. He’d missed, been shot at, and now he was bleeding, leaving a trail through the woods.

Normally Asset wouldn’t worry about his scent, but this time was different, he was on a clock and the suppressant patch on his neck was wearing out faster from the adrenaline coursing through him. The muzzle on his face blocked all scents and kept him from being able to tell if his own was even still working or not and he could feel the panic growing in his chest.

Lost, surrounded by trees that all looked the same, the situation was spiraling. He wasn’t supposed to run into the team, only take out their leader and he knew that was unlikely now. His heartbeat thundered in his ears, each footstep that drew closer only made things worse. He couldn’t risk being found. With a desperate whimper, he made a snap decision, pushing through the pain and fear. He ran, praying that the suppressants would hold long enough to keep his omega scent from giving him away.

>> @zemothethirteenth

[iwasagod]

"You and I know about this. That's where it stops, you understand? It never happened."

⸻ Doom folded his arms, perhaps a hint to not exactly agreeing with the Colonel. He could see where he was coming from, he respected the man for his career, wits and skills, but from time to time even Doom had to disagree.

Both did remarkable work together even if, yes, there was no one greater, better than Doom himself. But given time and successful results between their collaborations, Doom couldn’t help but start to take a certain…liking to the Colonel. The information Zemo provided allowed Doom to be one step ahead of everyone else (although, he insisted, he always had been one step ahead of everyone), but he had to give it to Zemo for making it way easier for him to get access to Stark tech.

“Doom sees where you are coming from, Colonel. However, I must disagree this time.”

When had he gotten so soft with his opinions?

“Our collaboration must continue. It benefits both of us, Doom is sure you see it as well.”

[bloodstainedstar]

"Your reputation is warranted. You're beautiful at what you do."

✮ – There's a soft sigh that escapes his lips as he stands up, pulling and taking the knife previously thrown and stuck on the ground, straightening his back subtly while his eyes focused on the other man.

"I've heard the first part for centuries, not so much the second one", Bucky said and there was a hint of a smile before he pocketed the knife and looked away, shoulder length hair slightly moving as well, some of it carefully tucked behind his right ear.

"What do you want, Zemo? I know flattery doesn't usually come on its own", he said, but he sounded amused rather than suspicious.

[what-the-stark]

@zemothethirteenth | Continuing from x

Shit. Tony reflexively caught the stranger's hands as he shut down the combat subroutines that requested authorization at the ineffectual assault. And this, this was what he'd feared when Ultron had made its stand here, what he'd known would happen, even as they fought and bled and died for these people who were innocent of everything but being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

The guilt he felt now was an old friend, a familiar ache that flared up at every opportunity, and its return was more than merited today.

Before Afghanistan, he hadn't seen what he truly was before he'd ended up with a hole punched in his chest by the literal labors of his own two hands. The real losses he'd suffered before then hadn't seemed like losses at all. They had been incremental, invisible, each one so small and dark and sharp that they'd lessened him for years, for as long as he'd accepted what he'd thought had been his legacy.

For the people who'd suffered for that apathy, for that ignorance, every injury had been heavy, immediate. Permanent. Tony hadn't noticed his soul was being stolen away until he was forced to against his will, until taking responsibility was no longer a figurative concept.

These people had paid the same price as the others, and nothing he could do would repair the damage, there was no scenario he could envision, no tech he could create, nothing that money could buy to make any of this okay for them.

Part of himself had been left behind in a cave years ago, and today he'd lost an indefinable measure more, hidden among the fragments of earth and stone and flesh that still sifted down from the sky.

"Hey, c'mon. Stop that. Please." Shifting his grip as gently as he could, Tony scanned him — he looked military — and took note of several possible injuries that flared an angry red on his HUD overlay. "I'm so sorry, man. I really am. But you're gonna hurt yourself." Pausing a moment, he retracted his helm, his expression entreating. The guy was clearly in a dark place, and Tony couldn't lose another one if he could help it. "I will totally carry you bridal style over to the camp if you won't come with me. Not even kidding."

[born-to-be-mischievous]

“I admit that I am very possessive.” { @ Nat }

𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒

Nat raised a brow at Zemo, not quite sure how to respond at first. She took a sip of her vodka, buying herself some time to get her feet back under her and think of a retort. "I can tell. Should I be worried about it? I don't want someone's body parts or whatnot getting cut off and sent to me or some kind of other horror movie stuff."

[zimniyxprizrak-a]

☂ - Your muse shares an umbrella with mine on a rainy day.

𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃𝐍'𝐓 𝐁𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒. An umbrella , seriously? Like Bucky hadn't become completely used to the rain. He kinda preferred it actually. Still , it was colder than he'd like. That must have been what prompted Zemo offering the umbrella. ❝ I ain't sharin an umbrella. ❞ He muttered before looking out at the rain. He'd be fine.

@zemothethirteenth.

[sicariav]

@zemothethirteenth from here

A soldier's intuition shared between soldiers, not a question in mind, Zemo follows his directive. It's a weight off his shoulders that trust is implicit.

Blue eyes peer over the metal framing across his nose, glancing in the direction of the cabinets. Big enough to fit a man Zemo's size, not big enough to fit his broad shoulders. He nods, boots silent on the concrete flooring as he inches towards the door.

Get in.

They're heavy on each step, solid boots, military grade. The sound of their equipment clicking together as they walk tell him hired guns, not trained for stealth. Shoot first, ask never. Company does the asking. They're just here for patrol but what they're guarding requires more than a security guard's baton so...handguns. Standard. One's got..sounds like an LMG. Lightweight but operable in close combat. No two-party system required.

The Soldier positions himself behind the door. Swing wide it hits the desk, leaves a triangular space to stay tucked into until its too late. Might be too late for Zemo, door's swinging open. Too tight to get his gun and they won't need it. Casual banter in Croatian says they don't suspect a thing. Probably just a pop-in.

Nothing's out of place and they retreat, leaving the door to swing shut behind them. It latches with a resounding click and Bucky exhales. Close one. Now where's his escort? Slipped out some side entrance or through the sewers?

"Clear. Patrol won't be by for another thirty minutes if we're lucky."

[biblicallyaccuratemcuarchive]

continued from here with @zemothethirteenth

It's absolutely petty to derive even this much joy from agitating the baron. But there are worse forms of entertainment, are there not? What he's doing isn't criminal. Nah, it's all in good fun...On his side of things, anyway. Who knows- with how intensely Zemo had rolled his eyes just now, he may at least be rethinking his offer to provide Bucky with shelter.

Who'd have thought that a little quip about fur would get under Zemo's skin so effectively...Mirth dances behind those glacier blues, as Bucky raises hands in a defensive position before himself.

"No complaints," he retorts, a crooked little grin curling just one corner of his mouth. "since, y'know, it's just a classic robe 'n all. No fur, so far as I can tell."