I Ship WalkerBaron So Hard It’s Not Even Funny. I Don’t Even Know Why Or How. Some Part Of Me Started

Agree completely.

Read the whole thing please.

I'm a say this one time but Wen-wu is a nasty assed butt. (this isn't hate on the actor, I love him)

I don't care how pretty he is or how much pain he is in bc he lost his wife. His kids lost their mom, they didn't go assassin. He should have been their for them. there is never an excuse for abusing your kids.

Example: Hank Pym(mcu) was not right but he wasn't completely horrible. it was the wrong thing to do but he was depressed. But HE didn't (a) physically and mentally abuse his kids (b) train them to be an assassin or (c) blame them

He deserves crap in my eyes. You can't watch a 7 year old punch wood until his hands bleed and think huh his dad's not at fault for basically encouraging this. Ok, but he healed his hands! uwu good dad! He watched as his kid was hit severely, not saying a word, and encouraging it in the name of strength. he watched and did nothing as his kid was whipped for hesitanting to kick wood with a hurt foot. He trained a 7 year old to kill. So many things are wrong with it. He sent a 14 year old to kill a man half way across the world. he neglected his daughter and was just a butt to her. he throws his son down to the stone ground for objecting to what he says, and throws his daughter down for trying to stop her brothers abuse.

and in case someone cries racist please let me inform you that I am currently in a both Asian and abusive household. So if you disagree with this. Block me. and dm me so I can block you back. I don't give a fish fried fuck about the actors face. This forgiving abusers is teaching kids that it's alright, it's normal, your abuser is in pain, they didn't mean it. You missed half the movie if you thirst over him or say he deserves a happy ending for being civil for 5 seconds to his kids. and if you use this as a way to hate on Asians I will fill you liver with uncooked spaghetti. This is the first Asian lead movie you better 👏step 👏it 👏up. You want to do better? reblog this, say it in your own words, hell I don't even care if you copy and paste this and claim its yours. I'm sick and tired of this fandom being like this. Do. Better.

My Tunnels Are Long and Dark These Days

Featuring snapshots of the three most important road trips in Zemo and John's journey of working together.

To love is to pretend, don't try to love yourself again That is the worst kind of pain We're not those kinds of freaks, amen We're a different sort of breed of men

KARAKORAM HIGHWAY, CHINA-PAKISTAN

Zemo sat slouching in his seat, one hand hanging out the window of the truck, another draped on the steering wheel. The road stretched out in front of them, disappearing into the shadows of the mountains and forests. The sun was not up yet, it was early morning. 5AM, where no one rose out of bed but the office workers, the labourers, the soldiers coming out of their blanket shells. And where no one entered into slumber but the gravediggers, the night-shifters, the soldiers retreating into their blanket shells. The truck had been trotting along the road for hours, a small brown beetle with its headlights shining pale yellow, framing the one-meter radius ahead of it. Twenty-four hours ago had been when they first kicked the ignition into its churn in the region of Kashgar (a former trading town along the Silk Road), and when the prospects of a proper ceramic toilet had bit the dust. Twenty-four hours come and gone, with Zemo quietly helming the operation.

From Kashgar, they had traveled to Karakul under the cover of night, a journey that had taken them six hours. There had been no scenery of note but white moonlight glinting off the peaks of the two tall snowy mountains, Muztagh Ata and Mount Kongur. The shimmering scales of the Karakul lake had enraptured Zemo for hours, greeting him whenever a sharp jolt in the road woke him from his slumber.

And now, after resting a few hours at a local abode, they continued on to Tashkurgan, where from there they would go right into the borders of Pakistan.

A small muffled sound came from the lump beside him. “What’s the situation?” John mumbled blearily, poking his head through the covers. Zemo cast him a sideline glance, frowning at his sleep-mussed hair and squinted eyes. “It’s not your turn yet.”

With a snort, John closed his eyes again and rolled over, facing away from Zemo. He settled into another deep sleep.

A big, military-looking truck drove by them, momentarily blinding Zemo with its headlights. Heartbeat quickened in his chest, Zemo sat up straighter and observed the truck through the rearview mirror, hoping for its retreat. He glanced quickly towards his small driving compartment, doing a mental catalog of the materials there: a driver’s license, a forged visa to pass the border customs, fake passports with cover identities for himself and Walker… good, very good. All according to plan. Zemo rolled down the windows of his truck slightly, listening intently. The roar of the military truck did not fade into a distant hum. Instead, there was the screech of tires and the sudden whirring which indicated only one thing- Walker had better practiced the cover story that Zemo told him to, or the ensuing events would be catastrophic.

The urgent, piercing honking behind them startled John into wakefulness. He bolted up, then as if realizing that there was nowhere to go, settled back gingerly into his seat. “Zemo…”

Zemo tightened his grip on the wheels. Flexed his knuckles once, twice. Gently, as if petting a startled cat, rolled the ball of his foot over the brakes. “Anderson, don’t panic,” he says with practiced calm. “Remember what we rehearsed?”

“Yeah, Niki,” John replies. Though his face was carefully composed, the telltale twitching of his leg told Zemo otherwise.

All John had to do as Anderson was play the part of a slightly confused USA diplomat, heading from China to Pakistan over some matters of a proposed trade deal. Niki was to be his driver and translator, a man who had been an exchange student in China briefly where he picked up some basic Mandarin. Zemo had learned barely enough to get the both of them through a ten, fifteen-minute exchange. For the rest of his persuasion, he’d have to rely on the forged documents and the facade of confidence. If all went well, they would be sent on their merry way very quickly, and deliver all eight billion dollars worth of SHIELD information straight into the hands of Contessa. Of course, Zemo had taken an innocent, ‘accidental’ look at the confidential information, and deemed it useless enough to give to the woman. If it were anything that he found potentially dangerous, he would dispose of it immediately. Dry kindling could turn into a wildfire in Contessa’s hands, and that was the kind of risk he would never take.

“Stay calm. I will settle it quickly. The officers don’t want to make a big deal out of this either- we will be on our way soon,” he hissed to John as soon as he heard the crunch of boots on the tarmac.

Zemo rolled his window down to the silhouette of a heavily-clad soldier, who was covered head to toe in military gear. His eyes seemed to be narrowed, whether it was from suspicion or simply fatigue.

“有签证吗？” (Do you have a visa?)

“有。” (Yes.) Zemo reached into the compartment and retrieved the documents. The soldier took a quick look at them via the torchlight and passed it back to him. Then, tipping his chin at John- “他是你的朋友？” (Is he your friend?)

“他是我的老板。” (He's my boss.) Zemo struggled to recall the words for a moment. “我帮他翻译。” (I help him to translate.)

“对于游客来说，这时间挺早的。你们从卡拉库尔来的？” (This time of day is quite early for a tourist to be travelling. Are you coming from Karakul?)

Zemo blinked, processing the words. “可以…重复吗？” (Can you... repeat that?)

The guard sighed, then said slowly- “你们从，卡拉库尔，来? ” (You came, from, Karakul?)

The pieces slot into place in his head. 卡拉库尔 - Karakul. You… from… you came from Karakul.

“对，对。抱歉，我的华文不好。” (Yes, yes. Apologies, my mandarin isn't good.)

The guard laughed, but there was no condescension or meanness in it. “对于老外来说，发音挺好。” (For a foreigner, your pronunciation is pretty good.)

He continues, “好，好，谢谢。打扰你了。不多说了，你们走吧。” (Yes, yes, thank you. Sorry for the disturbance, you can go.)

Zemo, displaying the kindest smile he could, nodded and bade the man farewell. He turned off the lights in the car and smirked, knowing John could see it- This is how a professional works.

Another voice rang out, different from the one earlier. “先别走。” (Don't go yet.)

Zemo’s foot froze at the pedal. John’s expression was one of pure confusion and panic, his calmness now barely held together. Through the conversation earlier, Zemo had already sensed him vibrating with stagnant energy, and now it was manifesting in dangerous, careless ways. Zemo quickly reached out to touch John shoulder and calm him down- he's learnt that the other man responded best to physical contact, something he himself detested.

John’s wild gaze lifted to a point above his shoulder and lingered there.

The sharp rapping at the glass behind him are like bullets to his ears.

Zemo turns around, “为何…” (Why...)

His voice died in his throat. Standing there outside the car, equally shocked- Karlen Constantine.

Zemo could recognize that face anywhere. The rounded jaw, the brittle mouth, and that hateful, hateful look in his eyes.

The same look he gave when Zemo framed him for murder and left a two-million-dollar bounty on his head in Madripoor. Eight years ago.

Zemo takes quick stock of the situation. Judging by Constantine’s badges- high ranking. Heavily armed. A long, long road ahead of them. Walker has no shield, not yet. That was still in the process of being manufactured in Romania. Car chases weren’t an option. Evasion wasn’t an option. Anything other than negotiation would lead to their death. Zemo swallowed the saliva that rested heavily on his tongue.

“Karlen, please,” he says. John inhaled loudly behind him, he ignored it.

“You son of a bitch,” Karlen laughed gleefully. “Oh, this has made my day. I’m going to enjoy this.”

“What the fuck is going on, Zemo?” John snarled, ditching the pseudonym. He knew the game was up, the only question was how they were going to get out of this situation.

“Karlen, I’m invaluable to you,” Zemo continues carefully. His heart is pounding wildly in his chest, and it’s taking every iota of energy in him to keep his voice steady, to prevent the wave of panic from engulfing his mind. Any wrong word, any wrong move, and he would be dead within minutes. The car was bulletproof, but at such close range… with a shotgun, no less… Zemo knew the specs of the glass well, but he loathed taking risks. “I can-”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Karlen screamed, spittle hitting the glass. “Both of you, get the fuck out. Hands where I can see them. Slowly. Fucking do it slowly, or I’ll blow a hole in your leg.”

With steady breaths, Zemo complied. He could feel the adrenaline rushing up to his brain, reducing everything to a frantic pulsing in his muscles, the instinctual urge to run or fight. He got out of the car, hands raised to his shoulders, holding John’s gaze steady- don’t do anything rash. Follow my lead. And surprisingly, John did. He followed without a single word of protest, even though Zemo knew he was aching to throw a punch, to smash his fist into someone’s temple, or feel the satisfying recoil of a gun vibrating against his bones.

Zemo felt the cold barrel of a gun pressed between his eyes, at the same time that John jolted forward and cried, “No!”

“Don’t FUCKING move!” Karlen roared again, clicking off the safety. “Stay where you are or I’ll fucking kill him. Zemo, he answers to you, right? Tell him.”

Zemo glanced away to catch John’s horrified stare before his head was painfully yanked back by the roots of his hair. “Hey. Eyes on me. What did I say?”

“John, don’t move,” Zemo said slowly, grimacing as Karlen’s grip tightened.

“Now kneel.”

Zemo complied, breathing heavily. He could feel the fur of his jacket sticking to the back of his neck, and how hot his entire body felt, alight with energy. The aching of his scalp and knees had faded into a dull buzzing, overtaken by the hyperawareness of Karlen, his every movement, and Walker’s unyielding presence at his back.

As if sensing the same, Walker leaned forward carefully to place himself in Zemo's peripheral vision, discreet enough that Karlen wouldn't notice.

"Three years. Three years, I had to run and run and run. All because you stabbed me in the back, like the fucking coward you are. We were friends, but that didn't mean shit to you, did it? I'm glad your fucking wife and kids died. I hope they suffered. Oh yeah, I hope they screamed. I'm going to make this very painful for you too, Zemo."

Zemo's hands were trembling with the force of keeping them from Karlan's throat. It was taking everything he had to restrain himself. He tipped his chin up, looked straight into the matching pair of hateful eyes, and spat at Karlen's feet. "Fuck you."

It barely sounded like his own voice. The hate was thick sewer sludge, bubbling past the broken glass in his throat. A blinding burst of red splattered across his vision- Zemo flinched from the force at which the rage slammed into his mind. I will kill you. I will peel your skin from your bones, bit by bit. You're going to be screaming like a pig by the time I'm done. Constantine, you'll wish you were dead-

Karlen punched him so hard his entire body collapses to the side. Zemo tasted blood on his tongue, and god, it was pouring out of his nose. It wasn't broken, however- he turned his head just in time to prevent that. The lights look blurry- his eyes were watering.

Another kick connected with his stomach and Zemo cried out in pain, curling up into a ball.

Stop, stop, fucking stop, someone was shouting. When his head finally stopped ringing, he realised that it was John.

"You're friends with this guy?" Karlen laughed. "Oh, come on. He's just going to stab you in the back too. In fact, I'm sure he's already plotted multiple ways to kill you or fuck you up."

"He's tried," John laughed mirthlessly. His voice dropped into a low growl, a voice meant for spilling dirty little secrets- "Many, many times."

"And guess what, I'm still here. You aren't. A word of advice? Don't take yourself so seriously. You don't mean shit to him if you can't keep yourself around," John continued.

Zemo struggled to push himself back up, panting hard. He can't gather enough air to shout, stop talking. Those words laid like a brand against his skin, spelling out the name John Walker, a possessive claim.

I'm special, John Walker practically crowed.

And Zemo hated that he was right.

"If you like him so much, you can join him." Karlen laughed, raised his gun to John Walker, and fired.

He was fast.

John was faster.

The bullet buried itself harmlessly into the ground. The soldiers startle, reaching for their guns. One shot, Karlen's body dropped. The muffled thump launched Zemo's body into action. His fingers found a gun, and without blinking he whirled and pulled the trigger three times.

A few more shots rang out, and two more men are down.

Zemo swayed on his feet, but before he could collapse, there were strong arms around him, leading him to the car. He's shoved into it in a daze. John Walker entered through the other side, at the wheel.

"Shh. Shh. Hey. Hey, princess, look at me." A damp cloth was pressed into his hands, and he instinctively brought it up to his nose to staunch the bleeding. They're both breathing harshly from the fight. Gunpowder blue eyes stared back at him, brows furrowed. Light glanced off the mirror, staining John's hair a warm golden. Zemo was reminded of his vintage brass rulers, the beautiful old smell they had...

Wait. Light? He lifted his head to see the sunrise, then the time on the electronic clock. 6.05 AM. The tourist buses would be moving out soon, which meant-

"Drive," he whispered, and John kicked the car into high gear without a word.

"I'll text Contessa to put a roadblock on both sides and clear up the scene as quickly as possible. Once at Tashkurgan we'll leave the car, take the tourist bus, and blend in with the rest. I will arrange for Contessa to meet us earlier than was planned. When we arrive in Pakistan, we need to get past the border security. Even though we're compromised, this will not be risky. It's broad daylight and there are too many people at the border to cause a scene. The congestion will be in our favour. Clear?"

"Crystal."

"And the next time, I'll tell Contessa that travelling at night is a bad idea."

John frowned. "Hey, don't blame yourself. No one knew this was going to happen."

"We were nearly killed, John."

"Yeah, what's the big deal? Do you know how many times I've nearly been killed, Zemo? More than I could count. And trust me, this does not even come close." John laughs brightly. "We got outta there fine, yeah? Trust me. Not even close. It was a team effort."

Zemo looked down, and saw the slight quivering of his leg that John tried to hide. He dragged his eyes up to John's face, and recognised the tiny, near-imperceptible strain in his eyes... something you would not catch unless you were specifically looking for it.

You can be a really good liar if you tried, John.

"You're special to me, you know." the words came out in a rush, stumbling over one another. It sounded like a confession, and Zemo hated how it made his heart stutter, how his hands tingled, how the pain and the anger faded away into a schoolboy-nervousness.

The entire world, bottled down to a single response.

And he waited for an answer with bated breath, though he was uncertain of the question he had asked, if any at all.

My ending thoughts:

John Walker tells Zemo about love, like how a parent tells their child about the unobservable universe, about the untouched depths of the ocean, as if whispering: don't fear the unknown, for we'll explore it together.

Inspiration and images were taken from:

Zion National Park, United States (Utah)

Black Canyon of the Gunnison, United States (Colorado)

Trollstigen, Norway

Transfăgărășan road, Romania

Karakoram Highway, China-Pakistan

Images were taken from Google, not owned by me.

Love this! A really good, nuanced take on JW.

When people talk about the whole speech that Erskine gave to Steve about the serum in relation to how that speech applies to John Walker, it’s always this weird one-sided thing, it’s only about the “bad becomes worse”, and thus equating it to John is only bad and has always just been a bad person whom the serum just revealed more of who he is.

But people aren’t only good or only bad, that’s not how human beings work, we all have dark and light within us. And as Erskine even said, the serum amplifies everything, the good AND the bad. Not just one specific side.

So yes, while the serum amplified John’s darker aspects of anger, emotional instability, insecurity, and the instinct to punch his way out of problems, it also amplified the good in him. It amplified the person who is brave and wants to do the right thing and the good thing. It amplified the person who would risk death to save others. It amplified the person who went above and beyond the call of duty to do incredibly heroic things to earn those three Medals of Honor. And the story shows this very explicitly by having John choosing to let go of his desire for revenge to save the lives of the hostages, to ultimately do the right thing.

John Walker is not simply some cautionary tale of this is what happens when “bad becomes worse” or this is what would have happened if Hodge had gotten the serum instead of Steve. That’s too simple and reductive.

John Walker’s story is about the eternal fight of darkness and light that happens within all of us throughout our lives, and how sometimes that darkness can get the best of us when we are at our lowest, but how our light can also overcome the darkness.

Damnnnnnn, tony, stooooooop

You’re gonna make me catch feelings

Tony Leung photographed by Isaac Lam for GQ, August 2021.

Dude, your words flow really well, and the tone of this is perfect! I love the last paragraph, especially. John being wary of thunder, his mind running on overdrive, Zemo calming him down- AHHHH so cute and tender

The fact that he’s questioning himself... I sense that there’s something more to it 🥺 (people do tend to doubt themselves a lot when they’re around Zemo, that’s something I’ve noticed. He somehow has the ability to turn against everything you’ve ever known.)

I love it, wanna read more of your writing!🤩 I think you can definitely bring something awesome and new every time you do a revision/edit.

🍀🍀🍀

Vulnerable.

a Walkerbaron excerpt from one of my Wips.

it's past midnight, I have no idea what this is.

Their bodies laid softly as the rainy day comes as invitation to rest, to relax, to let the ever steady moment expand into dreamy poetic wonderings. It was still early when the clouds gave of their rain to the grass and trees, when the road became alive with more splashes than the eyes could appreciate. Yet the rain drops they brought such a soothing sound, a natural melody every bit as beautiful as a mother's soulful hum.

Even if he wanted to be at peace, his treacherous mind does not stop tormenting him, making him jump with every thunder, telling him that why he lowered his guard, that he's in danger.

John sinks into it, when the rain drops hit the windows he breathes, and time seems to stop, he feel it.

And no, he doesn't mean the fingers brushig his hair slowly, with such a beautifully tenderness, he means the feeling that those fingers provoke in him.

He feels vulnerable.

But was it right? He didn’t feel like it wasn’t, it didn’t feel wrong, so was he supposed to be worried about it?

What was the worst? The feeling of being vulnerable or knowing it wasn’t wrong?

Desolation tragedy, but was it meant to be?

“John, be quiet,” was whispered in his ear, he felt the man’s chest rumble as he spoke.

John frowned in silence, confused, did he say something?

“I didn’t say anything?” he says, but it sounds like an ask.

“Your mind, my love—” Zemo’s fingers moved to his forehead, and with little touches he says: “— is to loud and heavy for you, hush it.”

“How?” John genuily asks, he doesn’t know what to do, how to be in peace, calm.

“I want you to focus on my heartbeat,” he said, and looked down at his lover, “Could you do that?” Zemo’s voice is so sweet John swears it taste like honey when he speaks.

He nods, and moves to put his ear over Zemo's heart, his chest rises and falls gently, and the fabric of his sweater is soft; "cashmere wool", Zemo had told him before when he asked, greedy bastard.

Zemo's gentle caresses on his hair were still present, only this time his fingers reached to his face, drawing the lines of John's forehead, as if he wanted to calm that brow at all costs, which John felt appeased to do, letting his features relax underneath those gentle touches.

Thinking about finishing the 3rd part of my Roadtrip Series soon. I still need a central song to set the vibe for it, and I’m thinking dark royalty core? I also have a few other songs in mind.

The past 2 road trips have all had good endings, so I want this one to end on a sad or bittersweet note.

Maybe John and Zemo had an argument during or before the road trip? What would they do in a fit of rage? What about the aftermath? All are questions that I need to figure out.

The final road trip is also set in America.

By the way, happy Pride Month. 🍀 Go wild. Treat yourself to something nice every day of the year. May you always be filled with creative thoughts. May those around you make you smile every day. May you recover from challenges with renewed wisdom. Well wishes for everyone! :3

Wowowowow 🥵

Yup 🥺👉👈🚶‍♀️

tumblr friendships are hard to maintain like im sorry i know i havent talked to you in 5 months but you’re still super rad and i still consider us friends im just dumb

Currently working on a BaronWalker fic. I may never finish it but doesn’t hurt to try ;)

Aiming to get it completely finished before I upload it to AO3. If I don’t finish it oh well then it’s not going public. Oh my god it’s a challenge to write (Zemo does not make it easy!) since I’m endeavoring to explore every facet of him and every little ounce of his contradictions.

Episode 6 has made John’s characterization a little wobbly for me so I’m still wondering what creative direction to take in terms of him.

Also I’ve made the controversial creative decisions to keep John a married man, just because the moral conflict might be very juicy.

(I’m concerned over the fact that my blog has been taken over by BaronWalker)

I don’t know the fandom but this artist’s stuff is amazing! ❤️❤️❤️🙏 love the washy black and white style