#16 MANIPULATION TACTICS

[blenderblades]

Old man before the yaoi

[king-crawler]

how would you feel if i made a king candy bot on janitor ai

If I'm being honest I don't encourage using ANY AI chatbots because that stuff can be seriously addicting and it's really wasteful :[

I'm not judging if you do decide to use them- its your choice after all, but it should at least be an educated choice. Please keep in mind that AI companies are scum. They prey on our emotional attachment to fiction and they're only going to get better at it. And if that sounds scary it's because it is!

Anyways if I deleted my character AI account after getting addicted you can be free too ❤️ Only together can we avoid living in a soulless AI entertainment slop dystopia. Read fanfic made by humans or write your own :]

[astraystayyh]

We recently learned in our media class about the four indicators that reveal a country's use of propaganda to justify its actions/build a national and international consensus over its stance. This is exactly what Israel is doing now. Please read this to learn more about the Israeli propaganda (with sources) :

i. Establishing a distinct "us" versus "them"/"the others" divide: The Israeli media has been actively engaged in crafting a narrative that portrays Palestinians as sub-humans and animals, that deserve to be killed, butchered, and deprived of essential resources such as water, electricity and fuel. This dehumanizing narrative serves to rationalize the grave atrocities committed against Palestinians, reducing them to mere statistics, rather than acknowledging them as fellow human beings who have the right to be protected as well.

A recent example of this dehumanization (that encompasses children as well) is Israel's Prime Minister's words in a now-deleted tweet, on Oct 16, stating: "This is a struggle between the children of light and the children of darkness, between humanity and the law of the jungle."

This is also a common practice in Western media as a whole. In the context of conflict, the choice of words plays a significant role: Israelis are often described as "killed," and Palestinians are referred to as having "died" (example of BBC). The distinction can be seen as a way to omit Israeli responsibility, portraying the deaths of nearly 10,000 Palestinians as a result of circumstances beyond its control, rather than the outcome of deliberate and targeted actions.

ii. Use of emotion instead of logic: a stark example would be the whole international outrage that was first sparked due to the false claim that Hamas had beheaded 40 babies. This fake news was confidently shared by U.S. President Joe Biden, who later admitted that he had never actually seen any pictures of such events, neither did anyone in the IDF because there was never any instance of 40 beheaded babies (source) (also trust me if Israel did have any pictures of killed children they would not hesitate to share it)

CNN journalist who first shared this fake news has later apologized for being "misled." (which isn't the case that was a conscious choice of the news agency but that's another conversation)

Israel knew what it was doing by sharing this particular false information, they knew that the simple imagery of such a horrifying notion, even without concrete proof, would be a strategic tool to garner international support through emotional manipulation.

They are still trying to use emotion when it comes to children particularly to sway the public opinion : Israeli government spokesman has shared images of "fallen teeth of burnt children." This post has been debunked by dentists, pointing out many contradictions in the pics that conclude that these are props and not the teeth of actual children found in rubbles. (source)

(Meanwhile, there are factual documented videos and pictures of dead Palestinian kids and babies, decapitated, injured beyond belief, tangible proof of the war crimes Israel commits and yet the public outrage isn't the same, because Israel has already established that Palestinians are lesser people)

iii. Attempting to Influence Both Elites and Ordinary Citizens: In addition to their efforts to secure international support from world leaders, Israel has employed a multifaceted approach by spreading advertisements that regular civilians view. These ads serve to rationalize their actions, and they are strategically placed ahead of unrelated programming, including children's shows or games.

This tactic aims to integrate their ideology into various aspects of our lives, in order to promote their agenda and inundate us with recurrent pro-Israel messages. This strategy capitalizes on the psychological principle that the mind tends to retain information it encounters most frequently. (a more detailed video explanation)

iv. media manipulation tactics : For example, the night before Israel bombed the Baptist hospital in Gaza killing more than 1000 people, BBC published an article with the headline "Does Hamas build tunnels under schools and hospitals?" giving way to a "justification" for the heinous, war crime act that is bombing a hospital, under the guise of targeting Hamas hidden bases.

The use of the Israel-Gaza war as a headline for the news leads us to believe that this is a war with two equal (or slightly disproportionate) parties who are both able to defend themselves. Whereas this is a genocide led by Israel (a powerful military with international backing by the world's most powerful nations- U.S, U.K, France, Germany.. to cite a few) and CIVILIANS. Because those are the people that Israel is targeting, by bombing hospitals, schools, mosques, churches, refugee camps.

It is a genocide, an ethnical cleansing, an attempt to eradicate entire families, then to relocate the survivors out of Gaza, making it impossible for them to reclaim their land, and resulting in a total takeover of Palestine by Israel.

Another manipulation example (because there are so many) is the first and most prominent question that many Western journalists ask their guests: "Do you condemn the attacks of Hamas on Oct 7?"

This question completely disregards the root of this entire conflict, which is the 75-year ongoing colonization of Palestine. By omitting all the previous crimes against Palestinians that led to the attack (the killings, the wrongful imprisonments, the torture, the stealing of land…) these 'journalists' actively manipulate the public opinion, portraying the Hamas attack as unprovoked, when you cannot possibly expect a colonization to have 0 resistance.

And an honorable mention to the zionists who are trying to morph the anti-Israel stance into an anti-Jew one. This isn't about religion, I've said this once and I will say it again, Jews around the world are condemning the actions of their government. Just recently, Jews were arrested in NYC for standing against Israel. (source)

This is a humanitarian cause. We're humans, this is the one denominator factor that unites all. We read about previous genocides in history. We wondered how people could support the killings of innocent people, men and women, and children and babies. It is happening right now again, and media propaganda plays a significant role in shaping public perceptions.

I couldn't include everything here but please, I urge you to use your critical thinking. Don't believe everything the media tells you, and this is coming from a graduated journalist. We learn about propaganda and how to counter it, which also means we learn about how to manufacture it.

So don't be gullible, boycott the companies who support Israel (mainly HP, Siemens, AXA, Puma, Israeli fruits and vegetables, Sodastream, Ahava, Sabra. check BDS for more information) and urge your governments to support the ceasefire. We have a voice and we should use it, even if we're uncomfortable, even if we're scared. Do it. By staying silent you become complicit in genocide.

[yanderes-galore]

Oooh can I please request platonic yandere brother Luffy hcs please who’s sister came a marine unlike her brother(s) 🙏 love to hear your thoughts 

Sure! Bear with me as I'm not that far into the story yet but I watched some of a video to help me understand more of the world :) So this doesn't focus on an specific plot point. It's a general idea. (I want to write One Piece and I'm impatient-)

Yandere! Platonic! Luffy with Marine Sister! Darling

Pairing: Platonic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Female Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Clingy behavior, Delusional behavior, Kidnapping, Jealousy, Violence, Forced companionship.

You were already quite different from your fellow foster brothers.

First of all, you were the only foster sister of them.

While you were fostered in the same family as Luffy, Ace, and Sabo... you didn't have the same goals.

Unlike them you didn't want to be a pirate.

At least, not after your experience with the Bluejam Pirates.

Before you all went your separate ways, Luffy was probably the closest with you.

He often spoke to you about becoming "King of The Pirates", often wanting you to join him.

You'd simply nod and smile, not having the heart to tell him that you didn't want to be a pirate after your experiences.

Secretly you hoped he would give up the goal as you loathed the idea of harming him in the future.

Pirate or not, you still saw him and Ace primarily as your brothers.

However, even if you hated the thought of being a pirate, you played and cared for Luffy + Ace all the same.

You still felt you should be supportive of your brothers, even comforting Luffy as Sabo's supposed "death" and Ace's departure.

For a while it was just you and Luffy, your younger brother still just as excited to be a pirate.

Luffy respected you when you were younger, often coming to you for adventure.

When you four were together you often loved to cause trouble on the island.

Although, Luffy noticed you weren't as into it when you were older.

The thought upset him.

Luffy would always ask why you don't want to hang out anymore.

You would brush him off, but Luffy is known to be stubborn.

Eventually you know you can't keep him in the dark for much longer.

You want to leave this island, it's about time you did.

Sabo's gone, Ace is off to be a pirate, the only one you have now is Luffy.

Luffy was 16 almost 17 by the time you decided to leave the island, you were 19.

He had grown attached to you, even though you no longer wished to partake in your pirate games.

When Luffy confronted you, you admitted you were planning to leave the island.

Luffy protests, saying how he wanted to start a pirate crew with you.

However, you shut him down, ignoring how your brother clung to you.

"Maybe we'll meet again in the future?" You bring up, making Luffy pause for a moment.

"You want to explore those vast seas and become the Pirate King, don't you?" You push a melancholy smile on your face.

"Yeah!" Luffy chirps in an excited tone. "But... I wanted to do it with you, sis...."

"I have my own journey to take..." You sigh, giving him one last hug. "But I'm sure we'll meet again in those waters."

Luffy was reluctant to let you leave, but with some convincing, he let his sister go.

About half a year later Luffy sets off on his own journey, starting the events of One Piece.

While your brothers had roles against the government... you had managed to find your place in the Marines/Navy.

You had been pardoned for past crimes and were given a recommendation to enlist due to your knowledge in firearms and tactics.

Throughout the years you even managed to rank as an officer, often being considered a useful asset within the Marines.

You never forgot about your brothers.

No, how could you when you often saw wanted posters and heard rumors?

You heard of Ace and internally smiled to know he was doing well.

You heard rumors of Sabo but were skeptical on the legitimacy of the claims.

Then you heard of Luffy... the rumors making your heart clench.

It was definitely your Luffy... you could see that in the posters.

It seemed like he put together a crew of his own, which impressed you.

Although... you hated the idea of being enemies.

As Luffy's journey progresses, you keep more of an eye on him than the usual pirates.

Other Marines, including a fellow officer you're partnered with, would occasionally notice you looking over a wanted poster of Luffy.

They think it's because he's garnering a reputation... which is partially true.

But you have different reasons.

You silently hope you never have to confront your old brothers.

You can deal with other pirates, that's no issue.

Yet you have too much of an attachment to Luffy and Ace.

Unfortunately, fate was just as cruel as the waters you sailed on.

Eventually you encountered Luffy since he managed to catch the eye of the Marines once again.

Reluctantly you're put on the field, sat right in front of Luffy.

Luffy paused his fighting once your presence was announced, your name still familiar in his mind.

Then he saw you.

You looked similar to how you once looked back on the island... yet were dressed completely in Marine gear.

Not the usual stuff, either.

You were high in rank.

Luffy felt... betrayed yet also... excited to see you again.

It's been, what, two years later?

You're both adults now yet with such different paths.

You two most likely fight, even though you're both not into it.

You keep trying to say you'll leave him alone if he turns back, if he just stops this.

Meanwhile Luffy keeps trying to convince you to join his crew even now.

Imagine if by the end of your confrontation Luffy does everything in his power to capture you.

He plays it off as wanting to take you as a hostage.

His crew goes along with it, but they can tell Luffy has a past with you.

You fight him the best you can but eventually are forced to surrender.

Imagine if Luffy kept you tied on the ship, still trying to play off the role of kidnapping a hostage until you're out at sea with his crew.

After that, Luffy becomes overly friendly.

He's excitedly rambling to you about how much he's missed you, not quite believing that you'd willingly join the Marines.

He just thinks maybe his sister was captured and forced into the role!

Yes, you must just be misguided.

After all, you two were meant to be pirates together!

I can see him excitedly rambling about Ace and maybe even Sabo to you, saying he's seen them again on his journey and now he's finally found you...!

He's too delusional to consider you an enemy.

Zoro and Usopp keep saying how you're a prominent Marine officer, obviously confused on how he knows you.

Only for Luffy to chime in that you're brother and sister.

You correct him by saying you were foster siblings, but Luffy brushes that off.

It becomes clear to the others and you that Luffy didn't take you as a hostage.

He took you onto the ship in an attempt to change your mind again.

Luffy's dragging you around the ship in your ropes to meet his crew, never keeping an arm off you.

You clearly look annoyed... but part of you is happy to see him again.

Although you know he'll never understand you....

Luffy holds you on his ship in an attempt to convert you into being a pirate.

Which you're forced to be put through.

Even if you tell Luffy you hate pirates, he doesn't believe you.

You can't hate pirates... all your siblings are pirates...!

Luffy is definitely just ignoring the facts.

Even his crew can see your irritation when Luffy clings to you like some affectionate child scared to lose you again.

The Marines no doubt want his sister back, but Luffy is definitely prepared to use violence to prevent that.

When the Marines try to take you back, Luffy taunts them by saying you don't want to be a Marine anymore.

Which is a lie, you do, but it's not like Luffy will acknowledge that.

Luffy would probably ask Nami to get you new clothes that aren't Marine clothes.

You're reluctantly forced to change into different attire to make you more "pirate-like".

You love your brother, you really do...

You just wish this wasn't the thing he decided to pull.

Would Luffy kill to keep you? I can see it happening.

He's determined to have you part of his crew, both pirates looking for adventure.

His charisma and persistence may wear you down.

Plus, you dread the sight of blood on his clothes...

It usually isn't his, based on the cold look in his gaze.

Perhaps you give in, accepting your fate.

Your acceptance makes him ecstatic, clinging to you as he recounts fantasies he's had since he was young.

Seeing a glimpse of the young boy Luffy used to be with you makes you smile...

Although your eyes water when you realize just what you've gotten yourself into.

Now you're forced to be on the run... yet Luffy doesn't care...

Now you two can finally be pirates together as you were always meant to be...!

"I can't wait for you to meet Ace and Sabo with me again...! It's been so long!"

[angelremnants]

Heat Waves l J. B. Barnes

PART ONE.⠀THROUGH THE SHIMMERING ROADS

summary : After years of manipulation by Hydra, Bucky Barnes must find his place in a world that has long moved on without him. With you, an independent and unwavering agent by his side, he reluctantly embarks on a transformative journey of recovery in Wakanda. Amid the kingdom's vibrant culture, your connection to Bucky deepens as he confronts personal demons and embrace the healing process. Bucky learns to welcome the warmth of new beginnings, understanding that even after winter's cold grip, the sun can shine through. Inspired by Heat Waves by Glass Animals.

pairing : James ''Bucky'' Barnes x f!reader

warnings : Mature (16+), slow burn, eventual romance, fluff, mild angst, hurt/comfort, mentions of PTSD, trauma recovery, themes of mental health, anxiety, mentions of mind control/brainwashing, minor violence, mild language, physical tension. Proceed with caution if you're sensitive to such material.

word count : 15.1k

author's notes : The people have voted, and a promise is a promise: here is the long awaited Bucky fic. I was originally gonna write about one of the spideys for this song, but the idea of exploiting Buck's journey in Wakanda struck me and I couldn't get it off my mind since then—though, I'm not exactly following Civil War's plot here, so beware. This is quite long, so I'm dividing the fic into two parts.

My lonely ass couldn't find anything better to do on New Year's Eve than write, so I hope that the story appeals to you and that, unlike yours truly, you're enjoying the festivities. I wish you all a happy new year to come, & Wakanda forever. <3

NEW ! — Find the continuation here.

(ao3 version)

The fluorescent lights of SHIELD headquarters buzz faintly, casting a pale glow across the sleek metallic walls of the hallway. The atmosphere is heavy, a tension so thick it seems to creep under your skin as you hurry past the agents going about their duties. They barely glance your way, but their hurried movements and hushed whispers set your nerves on edge. Something’s wrong—very wrong.

Maria Hill’s voice over the comm has been short and clipped, urgent in a way that leaves no room for questions. “Report to Briefing Room C immediately. It’s about Barnes.” There are no further details, just enough to make your heart pound as you practically sprint down the corridor, scenarios running wild through your mind. Has Bucky been injured? Is he captured again? Or worse—has he been triggered?

The doors to Briefing Room C slid open with a faint hydraulic hiss. The moment you stepped inside, the scene hit you like a punch to the gut.

The room is dimly lit, its walls lined with glowing monitors displaying various feeds and data streams. Fury stands at the far end, his broad shoulders silhouetted against the blue-green glow of a tactical screen. His expression is as unreadable as ever, but the tightness in his jaw speaks volumes. Maria Hill is at his side, her posture rigid, arms crossed as she stares at something across the room.

And then you saw him.

Bucky is seated in the middle of the room, his hands and feet restrained by glowing vibranium cuffs. His chest rises and falls rapidly, his long, dark hair obscuring part of his face. The metallic glint of his left arm reflects the light, but what strikes you most is the sheer tension radiating from him. His jaw is clenched so tightly you think his teeth might shatter, and his eyes were wild, distant, as if he were seeing something—or someone—no one else could. The moment you stepped further into the room, his head jerked toward you, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. For a split second, time seemed to freeze, and in that brief instant, you saw the depth of the pain and confusion that was consuming him.

“You’re just gonna let him stay like that?” you asked, your voice sharp despite the knot forming in your stomach. Fury’s eyes met yours, and you saw a flicker of uncertainty in them for the first time in a long while. It made your heart sink even further.

“It’s the only way to keep him contained,” Maria Hill replied, her voice cold but laced with an undercurrent of concern you weren’t sure you were imagining.

You took a step forward, your instincts screaming at you to do something—anything. You couldn’t just stand there and watch him suffer. But then, as if sensing your movement, Bucky’s body stiffened. His eyes flashed with panic as he struggled against his restraints.

“No,” he rasped, his voice hoarse and low. “No, please… don’t come any closer.” His breath was coming in ragged gasps now, his chest heaving as if he was suffocating.

You paused, your heart breaking at the sight of him, at the sound of his voice, so desperate and filled with fear. But you knew Bucky. You knew what he was capable of—and you knew that beneath the terror, there was still the man you trusted. The man you had once fought beside.

The room fell silent for a moment, the weight of his words hanging in the air. You could see the conflict in his eyes, the way he waged a war within himself. It was like watching someone trying to outrun their demons, knowing that they would never be fast enough.

Maria Hill’s voice cuts through the heavy silence. “Agent [Y/L/N].”

You tear your eyes away from Bucky and turn to Hill, your professional mask slipping into place. “What happened?”

Hill exchanges a glance with Fury, who gives a slight nod. “You might want to see this.”

You step closer to the monitor as Hill gestures to a technician. The screen flickers to life, displaying grainy footage from a street camera. It shows a busy city street, pedestrians weaving in and out of frame, and there, walking along the sidewalk, is Bucky.

He looked calm—serene, even—as he navigated the crowd. His leather jacket was zipped up against the wind, his gloved hands were shoved into his pockets. But then, a man appears from the edge of the frame, walking briskly toward him. You lean in, your brow furrowing as you study the stranger. There’s something off about him—his movements too deliberate, his gaze locked on Bucky with unnerving precision.

The man brushes past him, murmuring something too quiet for the audio to catch. Instantly, Bucky freezes. His entire body tenses, his head snapping to the side to follow the man. The shift is chilling. His shoulders were square, his posture rigid—almost predatory.

“No,” you whisper under your breath, your stomach twisting into knots.

The footage plays out like a nightmare. Bucky turns and closes the distance in two strides, grabbing the man by the throat and slamming him against the wall with terrifying force. The crowd scatters, screams echoing faintly in the background. The man struggles, but Bucky’s grip doesn’t falter. His expression is eerily blank—detached.

Before he can do more damage, a group of nearby S.H.I.E.L.D. agents intervenes. They move quickly, deploying stun darts that finally bring him to his knees after a brief but violent struggle. The feed ends abruptly, leaving the screen black.

You exhale shakily, your fists clenched at your sides.

“It was a Hydra operative,” Hill says, her voice as calm as ever, though her eyes betray a flicker of concern. “He used a fragment of the Winter Soldier’s trigger words. Not the full sequence, but enough to momentarily break through.”

“This wasn’t his fault,” you say firmly, your voice sharp as you turn to face them.

“No one’s saying it was,” Fury replies, stepping closer. “But this is a problem we can’t ignore. He was triggered. In public. If our agents hadn’t been nearby, this could’ve spiraled out of control.”

Your heart sank as the weight of the situation settled in. The footage, the raw power of Bucky’s reaction—it was all too familiar. Too dangerous. The fragment of the trigger words had done more than just snap him into action; it had ripped through the layers of control they’d fought so hard to establish, revealing the deadly force beneath.

You turned back to Bucky, who was still sitting motionless in his restraints, eyes hollow as if the memory of that moment played in his mind over and over. Your throat tightened as you couldn’t help but wonder—how much longer would it take before that darker side of him broke free for good?

“You said it was only a fragment,” you recalled with a tight voice and a racing mind. “How much more of that can he withstand?”

Hill’s expression was unreadable as she glanced at Fury, who looked as grim as ever. “We don’t know. But this wasn’t an isolated incident. There’s a pattern. Hydra operatives are still hunting for ways to manipulate him, to use him as a weapon again. And if they get their hands on him...” She let the implication hang in the air.

“Then we lose him,” you finished for her in a low tone.

Fury nodded once. “We can’t let that happen. Not again.”

You shake your head, your heart aching as you glance back at Bucky. He hasn’t said a word, but his silence is deafening. His shoulders are hunched, his breathing shallow, as if he’s trying to make himself smaller despite his restraints.

“This isn’t his doing,” you say quietly, your voice trembling with conviction as you turn back to Fury and Hill. “You know that.”

You gesture toward Bucky, your hands tightening into fists at your sides. “This isn’t who he is—not anymore. I’ve spent months working with him, watching him fight tooth and nail to reclaim his humanity. You don’t see the effort he puts in every single day to untangle himself from the chains Hydra left behind.”

You take a step closer to the table where Hill stands, your voice gaining strength. “He’s not the Soldier. Not even close. He’s a man who apologizes when he thinks he’s crossed a line, a man who can barely look at his reflection because he’s so haunted by what they made him do. And yet, despite all of that, he’s still here—still trying to do better.”

You then point toward the now-black monitor where the footage had played. “What you saw out there—that wasn’t him. That was a remnant, a ghost of the programming Hydra burned into him. He didn’t want that to happen. Do you have any idea how many times he’s told me he’s terrified of exactly this? Of hurting people again—of losing himself again?”

Fury remains stoic, but you don’t stop. You refuse to let them reduce Bucky to a liability.

“Do you know what it takes for him to even leave his apartment some days?” you continue, your voice breaking just slightly. “He’s had nights where he’s called me, barely able to breathe because of the nightmares. And still, he pushes forward. He goes to the market. He feeds stray cats. He shows up to his therapy sessions, even on the days he feels like a monster.”

You turn toward Bucky again, your gaze softening as you look at him. He still won’t meet your eyes, but his shoulders shift ever so slightly, as though your words are breaking through the thick wall of guilt that has wrapped itself around him.

“He’s made so much progress,” you say softly, your voice trembling with emotion. “You might not see it in this room, but I do. He’s not the same man Hydra controlled. He’s more than what they turned him into. So don’t tell me he’s a problem we need to ‘solve.’ He’s a survivor who deserves a chance to heal.”

The room falls silent again, the weight of your words settling over everyone present. Fury breaks it with a dry tone. “Well, that was one hell of a speech. If this was a courtroom, Barnes would’ve walked free five minutes ago.”

Hill smirks faintly but quickly straightens her posture. “And that’s exactly what Wakanda is offering,” she says after a moment, her voice gentler than before. “We’re not trying to punish him, Agent [Y/L/N]. We’re trying to find a permanent solution to give him the chance to live without looking over his shoulder for the rest of his life.”

You blink, momentarily caught off guard. “Wakanda?”

Hill nods, gesturing to a control panel beside her. The room dims slightly as holographic projections flicker to life above the table. A glowing map of Africa materializes, the continent's outline illuminated in soft blue light. Within seconds, the image zooms in on a secluded region encased in lush greenery and mountainous terrain, marked by golden energy fields pulsing faintly like a heartbeat.

“This,” Hill begins, motioning to the projection, “is Wakanda. Or, at least, what they allow the world to see.”

The hologram shifts again, peeling back layers of dense jungle to reveal a city hidden beneath an intricate shield of shimmering gold. Sleek towers of black and silver rise high into the sky, their designs flowing seamlessly as if the earth itself shaped them. Vibrant streaks of energy—bright blues and radiant purples—course through the city like veins, fueling what looks like hovercrafts darting silently between buildings. The architecture is a breathtaking blend of modern sophistication and traditional roots, with murals of panthers and warriors etched into the structures.

You find yourself momentarily transfixed by the beauty of it all. “This is... incredible,” you murmur, your eyes reflecting the golden glow of the projection.

Hill nodded again. “Wakanda has technology and resources far beyond anything we can dream of. Their advancements in medicine and neuroscience are decades ahead of ours. They’ve recently opened limited communication with select parties, and we’ve exchanged information for resource purposes. In those discussions, we mentioned Barnes’ situation. They’ve offered their assistance.”

The hologram changed once more, this time displaying an intricate diagram of a human brain, with glowing red nodes scattered across its surface. Lines of text and equations scrolled beside it, too fast for her to catch more than snippets: neurological interference... synaptic pathways... subliminal programming... neural erasure protocol.

Hill pointed to the red nodes. “These represent the triggers Hydra embedded into his mind. Wakanda believes they can isolate and remove them without damaging his memories. Their vibranium-based technology allows for precision on a level we can’t achieve with traditional therapy or medical intervention.”

Another image appeared: a sleek, black table in a futuristic lab, surrounded by devices that looked as though they were pulled straight from science fiction. A glowing halo-like contraption floated above the table, pulsating with faint blue light. Beside it stood a tall figure clad in flowing robes—King T’Challa, the Black Panther himself. His expression was calm yet resolute as he extended a hand, as though offering help through the projection.

You tore your gaze from the holograms and glanced at Bucky. He was staring at the images too, his expression unreadable. His jaw clenched slightly, and his hands, restrained to the chair, twitched as though resisting the urge to reach out.

“Bucky,” you said softly, stepping toward him, but his gaze remained fixed on the projection. You turned back to Hill and Fury. “They’re sure they can do it? That they can completely remove the programming?”

Hill hesitated for a moment. “No one can guarantee a hundred percent success,” she admitted. “But if anyone has the capability, it’s Wakanda. And Barnes’ situation is urgent. The alternative is keeping him in custody indefinitely, which... we know isn’t the right solution.”

You swallowed hard, your fingers tightening into fists. You turned back to the projection of Wakanda, the hope it represented mingling with the weight of what this meant for Bucky.

“They can help him,” Fury said, his tone low and steady, as though trying to reassure you. “And right now, that’s our best shot.”

You hesitated, glancing back at Bucky. “And Cap’?”

Hill and Fury exchanged a glance. Fury folded his arms and sighed. “Rogers’ tied up with another mission. Something that, frankly, only he can handle right now.”

“That’s not good enough,” you said sharply, your voice rising despite yourself. You took a step forward, your gaze steady. “Steve has been a cornerstone of Bucky’s progress. He’s more than his best friend—he’s his anchor. You’re asking him to go to Wakanda, to face this terrifyingly unknown situation, and you want to strip away the one person who’s been with him through all of it?”

Fury remained silent, his gaze unflinching, while Hill stepped in. Her tone was calm but resolute. “You’re not wrong, Agent. Rogers has been a crucial part of his progress, but that’s exactly why we need you now. You’ve been just as instrumental in helping Barnes rebuild himself. Steve can remind him of the past, but you’re the one who’s been guiding him into his newfound path.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but Hill raised a hand. “I understand your concern. Trust me, we thought about this. But we can’t afford to have Rogers split his focus right now. His mission is critical to the broader stability of our operations. He’s still dealing with the fallout from the Sokovia Accords—missions and compromises that require his full attention. We need him focused on ensuring our larger efforts stay intact.”

You frowned, your heart aching with the weight of the responsibility being placed on you. You glanced back at Bucky, who still sat in silence, his hands flexing against his restraints as though they might disappear if he tried hard enough.

“You’re asking me to fill the role of someone who’s been his family since before Hydra,” you said quietly, your voice laced with doubt. “What if I’m not enough?”

Fury spoke again, his tone unexpectedly softer. “You don’t have to be Steve. You just have to be there. And right now, that’s what he needs most.”

The lump in your throat felt almost unbearable as you turned your gaze back to Bucky. You weren’t Steve. You couldn’t be. But you couldn’t let him face this alone either.

“You’re one of his closest confidants,” Hill said simply. “And more importantly, he trusts you. If he’s going to Wakanda, you’re going with him.”

Before you could respond, the sound of metal striking metal echoed through the room. The sharp, jarring noise cut through the air, and Bucky’s metal arm slammed against the chair’s armrest with such force that the walls seemed to vibrate with it. His body was rigid, his every muscle taut, fighting against restraints that seemed like nothing more than a reminder of what he couldn’t escape. His jaw clenched, and his blue eyes burned with a cold fury that thickened the air around him.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Bucky growled, his voice low and full of frustration, as if daring anyone to challenge him. The words were barely more than a snarl.

A rush of helplessness surged inside you, but you pushed it down, steadying your breath. You took a step closer, your hands trembling slightly but not enough to stop you. You could feel the intensity of his anger radiating off him, yet you didn’t flinch. You couldn’t.

“Bucky,” you spoke, your voice cutting through the tense air, cool and deliberate, like a measured exhale after a long, heavy pause. You crouched, your movements unhurried, and the sound of your shoes on the floor felt muted in the charged atmosphere between you. You reached for his forearm, your fingers lingering above it for a heartbeat before making contact—steady and unflinching, a quiet gesture meant to ground him.

He didn’t react at first. His focus remained fixed on the metal restraints, his body rigid with tension, the edges of his breath jagged, as if each intake of air was another battle to hold back the chaos. The silence stretched between you, thick with the weight of everything unsaid.

But then, slowly, his gaze shifted, reluctant, as if the effort required to meet your eyes was a struggle. The shift in his expression was subtle—a flicker of something, an internal conflict you knew all too well. You could see the strain, the stubborn defiance buried beneath the surface of his wariness, and a deep, unspoken fear.

“James,” you said again, not a command but an invitation—an offering, as if asking him to join you in the quiet place between conflict and trust. You didn’t need to fill the silence with words. The air was thick enough with understanding, so much so that his silence spoke volumes.

His chest rose and fell unevenly, his eyes wild, full of a tension that reached past anger, into a place where self-preservation and vulnerability tangled.

You leaned in just a fraction, bringing your voice lower—closer. “This isn’t about punishment, you know. It’s just the opposite. It’s a chance, James. A real one. Wakanda has answers we don’t.”

There was a sharpness in his gaze at the mention of Wakanda, the flicker of uncertainty quickly masked by something harder. He didn’t speak, but you saw it, that tightening at the edges of his expression, the unwillingness to trust something unknown.

But you didn’t pull away. You couldn’t.

“I’ll be there,” you continued, your voice steady despite the maelstrom churning inside you. “Through all of it. I’m not going anywhere. You don’t have to face this by yourself.”

The space between you felt like a world unto itself, your words the only bridge between his resistance and the possibility of something else—something less solitary. He didn’t respond immediately, but his eyes softened in ways that didn’t require a spoken answer. The tension in his posture—so rigid just moments before—had eased, imperceptibly. It was a shift, small but real, like the first signs of a storm breaking after days of pressure.

He exhaled, the sound rough but quieter, as if the weight of the past few moments had cracked something open inside of him. It was subtle, almost too small to notice, but it was there—a shift in his breath, a loosening in the tightness of his body.

You didn’t let yourself breathe yet. It wasn’t a victory; it was progress. One step at a time.

“I’m not going to let you down,” you murmured, the words more to yourself than to him. But the truth of it hung between you, more meaningful than any promise. The smallest bit of trust had passed from him to you. And that was enough—for now.

For the first time since you had entered the room, Bucky’s posture eased, his shoulders relaxing slightly as if the burden he carried had lessened, if only for a moment. He didn’t speak again, but the silent understanding in his eyes was enough. The anger, the fear, and the uncertainty were all still there, but something in his gaze told you that he was willing to try. He was willing to trust you.

The tension in the room slowly dissipated as Fury and Hill exchanged a glance, their eyes sharp, filled with a quiet understanding. The moment hung there, charged with anticipation before Fury’s voice cut through the silence.

“You leave in 24 hours,” he said, his tone final, unyielding.

You barely had time to process his words before you noticed the subtle shift in Bucky’s demeanor. The moment the restraints were removed, his shoulders sagged slightly, as though the weight had been lightened, even if just a little. He rubbed his wrists, the red marks from the cuffs fading as he did, but his eyes never left you. The intensity of his gaze made your heart race, the silent communication louder than any words could be.

"Together," you insisted softly, your voice steady despite the emotions swirling inside you. You gave him a small smile, one that you hoped could carry the weight of everything that lay ahead.

Bucky’s gaze softened ever so slightly as he took in your words. For a brief moment, the mask he wore cracked just enough for you to see the vulnerability beneath it. He had carried so much alone for so long, always fighting battles on his own, and the idea that someone would stand by him, through everything, was still something he wasn’t sure he deserved.

But when he finally met your eyes fully, there was something new there—trust. It wasn’t much, but it was enough. And in that moment, you allowed yourself to believe that things might get better.

He nodded, slowly, almost imperceptibly, and for the first time that day, the weight on his shoulders seemed just a little lighter. The uncertainty, the fear, and the anger hadn’t gone away, but now there was hope—a flicker of it. And that was enough for you to keep moving forward, side by side, as you had always promised.

The tension in the room eased further as Fury and Hill exchanged a look, silent but understanding. The air was heavy with what was coming, but it was also filled with the possibility of healing. The first step, at least, was taken.

Bucky’s hand rested on his knee, his eyes still on you, as if testing the reality of your words. The quiet acceptance between them spoke volumes, louder than any battle cries or violent confrontations ever could. You dutifully chose to stay with him, basking in a silence speaking more than any words ever could.

Maybe, he thought, just maybe, he could have a chance to not be defined by the relics of his past and discover more about him than his broken identity.

⠀

The jet’s hum is steady, a soft vibration thrumming beneath your feet, filling the air with a quiet constancy. Outside, the world stretches out endlessly, a canvas painted with shifting colors. Golden plains give way to emerald forests, their hues blurred by the heat shimmering in waves. The sun hangs low on the horizon, casting long shadows across the cabin, where the faint glow of the dashboard monitors adds a cool blue contrast.

Inside, the tension is palpable. You sit diagonally across from Bucky, your fingers laced together as you try to focus on anything other than the heavy silence between you. The cabin’s sleek interior, all polished metal and leather, feels sterile, almost suffocating.

Bucky sits rigid, his posture tense and unyielding. His titanium arm rests on his thigh, the faint gleam of its surface catching the golden light from the window. His other hand grips the armrest tightly, his knuckles pale, the muscles in his forearm taut. He stares out the window, but his expression is far away, his eyes unfocused as if caught in a memory—or maybe a nightmare.

The heat waves outside ripple and dance, distorting the view, and for a fleeting moment, you think it mirrors what he must be feeling: a distorted reality, everything just out of reach, as though he’s swimming through a haze he can’t escape.

You finally break the silence. “Bucky,” you say softly, your voice gentle but firm.

He doesn’t move, doesn’t even blink. His jaw tightens slightly, the only sign he’s heard you.

“James,” you try again, leaning forward in your seat.

This time, his head turns, the movement slow, reluctant, as though every fiber of his being fights against acknowledging you. When his eyes meet yours, you feel your breath catch. They are turbulent, stormy—blue-gray like an ocean during a tempest, filled with anger, fear, and something even deeper: a bone-deep exhaustion that words can’t touch. For a moment, he doesn’t respond, his throat working as he swallows hard.

“What?” His voice is low and raw, like the sound of gravel scraping against stone.

"What’s in your head right now?" you ask quietly, the words almost a suggestion, as if you’re just offering him space to release what’s been bottled up. "You don’t have to explain it all at once."

He exhales sharply, shaking his head before his gaze slips back to the window. “That’s a loaded question,” he mutters. “What’s there to say? Same fight, different day. It’s all the same. I’m stuck. Like I’m running in place, but the ground’s always moving.” His voice drops, a hollow edge creeping into his words. “And now, I’m supposed to just… trust this is going to fix me?”

You take a breath, considering him for a moment. “I don’t think it’s about fixing you. It’s more about... giving you a place to stand. To breathe. Something you haven’t had in a while.”

He lets out a sharp exhale, his fingers twitching, flexing around the armrest. “Feels the same.”

You shift slightly in your seat, your gaze calm but not dismissive. “You’ve been carrying that weight for so long,” you say. “And you’re not wrong to feel it. But that’s not all you are. This? It’s a step. Not a cure, not magic. But a step. A chance for something different.”

Bucky’s lips press into a thin line, his jaw tightening as he looks at you, still skeptical. “And if it doesn’t work?”

“Then we keep moving forward,” you reply. “We don’t stop. We figure out what comes next.”

The silence between you deepens, but this time, it feels different. Like the weight of the words you haven’t yet said is finally beginning to shift. Bucky doesn’t speak, but his posture relaxes, just a little, as if he’s testing the space you’ve offered him.

“You make it sound simple,” he mutters.

“It’s not,” you admit with a quiet sincerity. “But simplicity isn’t the point. What matters is that you don’t have to carry it all on your own anymore.”

The hum of the engines fills the silence between you, a steady backdrop to your conversation. You lean back in your seat, your gaze drifting to the window. The landscape below has shifted again, the golden plains now giving way to a dense, emerald forest that stretches as far as the eye can see. You take a sip of your drink—a strawberry smoothie you’d grabbed on the way to the jet—and the sweet scent lingers in the air, subtle but unmistakable. It wafts across the cabin, reaching Bucky, whose sharp senses catch it almost immediately.

Strawberries.

It’s such a small, seemingly insignificant thing, but it hits him like a soft gust of wind, pulling him out of the maelstrom in his mind. He always associates the scent with you, a faint trace of strawberries that’s noticeable when you sit close, during those late-night talks, your presence warm and grounding. It’s not overwhelming, just... you. Sweet, fresh, and comforting.

He shifts uncomfortably, the faint scent tugging at something buried deep in his mind. For a moment, the warmth of the jet dissolves, replaced by the golden haze of a late summer afternoon in Brooklyn. He can almost hear the clatter of a bell above the door of a tiny corner bakery, the kind of place you only know about if you live in the neighborhood.

It was Steve who had dragged him there the first time, eager for a treat after a particularly grueling boxing session. The memory unfurls in fragments: the way the sunlight slanted through the windows, how the air inside was heavy with sugar and yeast, the cheerful laugh of the owner as she handed over two strawberry tarts fresh from the oven.

"Best you’ll ever have," Steve had said, his mouth full of pastry, his grin unapologetic. He’d laughed, his fingers sticky with jam as he agreed. They’d sat on the stoop outside, trading bites and talking about nothing important.

The scent in the jet now is the same—ripe, sweet, and just a little tart. It pulls at the edges of his mind, softening the sharp lines of his worry.

His grip on the armrest loosens slightly as he turns his head, his gaze finding you. You’re looking at him now, your brows drawn together with concern, your lips parting as if you’re about to say something.

“Bucky?” your voice breaks through the haze. You turn to him, concern flickering in your eyes. “You okay?”

He blinks, the memory dissolving like sugar in tea. “Yeah,” he says gruffly, clearing his throat. “Just… your drink.”

Your brows furrow, and then your lips curl into a small smile. “What, this?” You hold up the cup, the pink liquid inside sloshing slightly. “Strawberry lemonade. It’s my favorite.”

He nods, his gaze lingering on the cup before meeting yours. “It smells nice. Reminds me of something.”

Your curiosity piqued, you lean in slightly, your voice softer now. “Something good, I hope.”

For a moment, he hesitates. The words are heavy on his tongue, tied to a life that feels like it belongs to someone else. But there’s something about your presence—steady, warm, and unrelenting—that makes him feel safe enough to share.

“There was this bakery,” he begins, his voice low, almost as if he’s afraid to disturb the memory. “Back in Brooklyn. They used to make these strawberry tarts. The kind you could smell from down the block.” His lips twitch into the ghost of a smile. “Steve and I used to go there after boxing. It was stupid, really, but… it was nice.”

You don’t say anything right away, letting the moment settle between you. When you finally speak, your voice is gentle. “It’s not stupid. It’s a good memory. One worth holding onto.”

He glances at you, the corners of his mouth lifting just slightly. “Yeah. I guess it is.”

For the first time since you boarded the jet, his shoulders relax. The tension that had gripped him like a vice began to ease, the scent of strawberries still lingering in the air like a quiet promise.

“Want a sip?” you offer, holding out the cup with a playful tilt of your head.

He huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Nah. I think I’ll just enjoy the smell.”

The banter is light, but the moment carries weight, grounding you both in something fleeting yet profound.

"You know," you said, your tone lighter, "I've been reading about Wakanda. Apparently, their sunsets are supposed to be the most beautiful in the world. Vibranium makes the sky light up in colors you've never seen."

Bucky glanced at you, a faint crease forming between his brows. "You've really done your homework, haven't you?"

You smiled softly. "Someone had to. Besides, I wanted to make sure you were walking into something good. You deserve that."

His gaze softened, the tension in his shoulders easing ever so slightly. "You really believe that, don't you?"

"I do," you said, your voice steady. "You've been through hell, Bucky. But you've fought your way back every single time. That's not something everyone can do."

He turned his attention back to the window, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Maybe," he said, his voice so quiet you almost didn't hear it.

You lapsed into silence again, but this time, it felt lighter, less suffocating. You watched him out of the corner of your eye, the way his fingers relaxed slightly, the way his breathing steadied.

As the jet began its descent, the cabin was bathed in a golden glow. Outside, the horizon was ablaze with color—deep reds and oranges melting into purples and blues, the landscape below shimmering like a dream.

"We're almost there," you announced softly, your gaze returning to the window.

"Yeah," he rasped, his voice steadier now. "Almost."

Bucky leaned forward, his gaze fixed on the view, a flicker of awe breaking through the walls he'd built around himself. "It's beautiful," he whispered, almost to himself.

Outside, the horizon blazed with color as the jet continued its journey. But inside, the small bubble of quiet understanding between you felt like its own kind of sunrise—a soft light breaking through the shadows, hinting at the possibility of brighter days ahead.

⠀

The jet's engines finally cut off as it touched down gently on the smooth landing pad. Outside, the deepening twilight bathed the landscape of Wakanda in a golden glow, and the air felt almost electric with anticipation. Bucky’s boots thudded softly on the jet’s floor as he stood, his posture rigid but his steps measured. He paused for a moment, taking in the moment—this was the first time in years that he'd stood on solid ground and not felt the familiar weight of his past suffocating him. But it was different now. Wakanda. The future. Maybe this place could offer him what he'd been searching for.

You were right behind him, your heart beating just as fast. You'd done your research and read every report you could get your hands on about Wakanda, but nothing had prepared you for the feeling of stepping onto the soil of this secretive, powerful nation. Your eyes scanned the surroundings, taking in the sleek, futuristic city that rose from the heart of lush green hills, framed by shimmering mountains. Vibranium gleamed in the sunlight, reflecting the colors of the setting sun in every direction.

As the jet’s door slid open, a cool breeze stirred the air, carrying with it the earthy scent of fresh rain and something distinctly metallic—Wakanda’s essence. It was strange, like nothing else you’d ever smelled before. It felt otherworldly, yet natural, as if the land itself was alive with energy.

Bucky stepped out first, squinting against the sudden change in light. He kept his head slightly lowered, his broad shoulders tense, but something in the way he held himself was different. As if the city—the country—held a promise, a shift he hadn’t yet fully processed but felt in his bones.

You followed, your hand brushing against the doorframe as you stepped onto the pad, your eyes now fully taking in the grandeur of the scene around you. It was surreal to be standing in a place so rich with history, so far removed from anything you'd known. You noticed Bucky was already looking around, and for the first time, the air around him felt lighter.

Before you could take more than a few steps, a procession of figures appeared before you—imposing yet welcoming. A group of highly trained Wakandan guards in their traditional attire stood tall, their presence unwavering, yet their expressions unreadable. But it was the figure at the front of the group who caught your attention.

Shuri.

She stood with an air of confidence that was immediately apparent. The sharpness in her posture and the grace with which she moved spoke volumes about her authority and presence. She wore a sleek black and gold ensemble, her hair pulled back in a series of intricate braids. There was no immediate warmth in her eyes, but there was an undeniable sharpness—a curiosity in her gaze as she looked over the newcomers.

“Pleasure to meet you, soldier,” Shuri greeted, her voice clear and full of authority, but softened by an unmistakable warmth.

Bucky gave a stiff nod in return, his jaw set, but there was a slight softening around his eyes as he regarded her. He didn’t speak right away, but his gaze shifted slightly toward the cityscape behind her, almost as if taking it all in.

Then, Shuri’s attention turned to you, and she gave a small, polite smile. “And you must be Agent [Y/L/N],” she said, her eyes scanning you with a hint of curiosity. “I trust the journey was pleasant?”

You blinked in surprise—didn’t expect such a direct greeting. You offered a smile back, albeit a bit more reserved. “Yes, it was. Thank you for the warm welcome, Your Highness.”

Shuri’s lips curled slightly. “Oh, don’t bother with stupid titles—call me Shuri. It’s not every day we have guests arrive, especially those with such… unique backgrounds.” Her words were punctuated by a sharp but knowing look at Bucky, as if she were aware of the weight he carried. “But I assure you, here, you will find more than just refuge. You’ll find purpose.”

Bucky didn’t respond right away, but you could feel the tension in his body, the flicker of recognition—of understanding—that passed between the two. It was subtle, but it was there.

“Come, we’ll get you settled in,” Shuri continued, motioning toward the waiting transport. She stepped aside as the guards parted, and the sleek vehicle hummed to life. “We’ve prepared a place for both of you to rest, but I think you’ll find Wakanda has much more to offer beyond that.”

Bucky hesitated for a moment, then gave a slight nod, stepping toward the transport. You followed, your steps light but steady. The air felt charged with the promise of what was to come—both the uncertainties and the possibilities.

The faint whir of energy around you seemed to grow as you arrived at your destination, and you found yourself mesmerized by the city in the distance. Wakanda was everything you had imagined, and yet, nothing like you had imagined. The towering structures were like nothing seen elsewhere in the world, made of materials that shimmered in the fading light, as if they were woven with the very fabric of the earth itself.

Shuri’s lips curled into a small but knowing smile. “Wakanda is a land of contradictions,” she said, stepping forward and sweeping her hand toward the city beyond. “We blend the ancient with the advanced. What you see here, what you feel, is a reflection of us: strong, proud, and unyielding.” She glanced at Bucky, her tone softening just slightly. “And you, soldier, you’ll find something here that you may not have known you were looking for.”

Bucky stiffened slightly at the mention of “something,” but you could feel the weight of the moment. You knew Bucky’s past, and the burden he carried, and you could only imagine what he was thinking as Shuri spoke.

Trying to ease the tension, you stepped closer to Bucky, your voice gentle as you spoke to him. “Hey, it’ll be alright. Just take a moment,” you told him, offering him a quiet smile. You could see the tightness in his jaw, the way his muscles were coiled, like he was preparing himself for something.

Bucky glanced at you, his face betraying the slight hesitation in his gaze, but then he nodded almost imperceptibly, the tension in his shoulders slightly easing.

Shuri noticed the exchange, and after a beat, her expression softened as she turned back to you. “Oh, but you must be tired from your trip,” she said, her tone taking on a more inviting warmth. “Wakanda’s energy can be overwhelming, especially for first-timers. Allow me to guide you to your rooms. You’ll want to rest before we get to the more… exciting parts of your stay.”

You nodded gratefully, turning to Bucky. “Let’s get settled, alright? We’ll have some time to relax and get comfortable.”

He gave you a small, almost imperceptible nod. He seemed to appreciate your presence more than he let on, though his eyes still lingered on the sprawling city as you followed Shuri.

Shuri led you down a wide path, the guards falling into step behind you, their presence a quiet but ever-present reminder of the security that Wakanda maintained. As you walked, you couldn’t help but be in awe of the blend of nature and technology that surrounded you. The city had an organic feel to it, with towering trees growing beside shimmering, metallic buildings. The contrast was striking, yet harmonious.

“You’ll be staying in one of our guest suites,” Shuri continued, her voice light, almost playful. “It’s not quite as grand as the royal chambers, but it’s comfortable enough. A place to rest your head, away from everything else.”

Bucky remained quiet, but you could see the slight tension in his shoulders beginning to ease. You kept your attention on him, making sure he felt at ease in this unfamiliar place.

“Wakanda is a place of healing,” Shuri added, glancing over her shoulder at you both. “And for you, soldier,” she said with an almost surprising directness, “this land has much to offer. But remember, healing doesn’t happen overnight. You have to allow it to.”

Bucky’s expression was unreadable, but he didn’t reply, his gaze focused forward as you approached a building that seemed to glow with an ethereal light.

“This is it,” Shuri said, gesturing toward the entrance. “Your rooms are inside. Rest for now, and when you’re ready, we’ll meet to discuss what comes next.”

As you stepped inside, you took a deep breath, watching Bucky carefully as he entered his assigned room. You could tell he was still processing everything—the enormity of being here, the unfamiliarity of the city, and perhaps the weight of his doubts. But for now, all you could do was offer a quiet, reassuring presence.

“Thank you, Shuri,” you said, offering the princess a smile. “We’ll take it from here.”

Shuri nodded, her expression softening just a touch before she turned to leave. “Of course. Take your time. Wakanda will be waiting when you're ready.”

The door closed behind you, and for the first time since you’d arrived, there was a moment of quiet. The sensation of apprehension in the air seemed to dissipate, if only slightly, as the reality of your arrival in Wakanda settled in.

⠀

You took a deep breath, letting the silence wrap around you for a moment before moving toward your suitcase. As you crouched down, unzipping it, you couldn’t help but smile a little. There was something comforting about the mundane task of unpacking, a small semblance of control amidst the uncertainty of your new surroundings.

You pulled out the first few items—clothes, toiletries—and started to sort them, placing them neatly in the drawers. You were methodical about it, folding everything just so, organizing even the smallest details. It helped you focus and keep your mind occupied, away from the unknowns of this strange new place.

Later that night, the door creaked open again while you were still folding clothes in your given wardrobe, and you looked up to find Bucky standing in the doorway. He looked like he was still adjusting to the quiet, his face creased with that familiar tension.

“Can’t sleep,” he muttered, his voice low, almost sheepish. He stood there for a moment, as if unsure what to do with himself.

You gave him a sympathetic glance and nodded toward the small couch across from your bed. "Well, I’m just unpacking. You’re welcome to hang out for a bit."

He nodded and walked over, sitting on the edge of the couch, his posture stiff. "I thought you were supposed to be making this place feel more like home," he said with a small grin, watching as you folded a shirt.

"Yeah, well, one suitcase at a time," you teased, folding a pair of pants. "Besides, we’re in Wakanda. You’re gonna have to give me more time to adjust. It’s not exactly like putting up posters of our faces and calling it 'home.'"

Bucky chuckled, leaning back on the couch with a sigh. "I don’t think they’d let me hang up any of those old SHIELD ones... You know, the ones Sam still sends me with our faces on them. Like we're supposed to be some kind of... well, I don't know, 'heroes' or something."

You let out a laugh, shaking your head. "Sam’s probably got a whole wall of them. I mean, that guy never misses an opportunity to remind us how pretty we are, huh?"

Bucky smirked, his eyes softening. "You’ve got to admit, he’s got a point."

You rolled your eyes, playfully throwing a sock at him. "Sam’s got an ego the size of the Milano. Just wait till we get back. He’ll be acting like he’s the one who saved the world every five minutes."

Bucky leaned forward, nudging your leg with his foot. "And he’ll probably do it with that ridiculous grin of his." He paused, a grin spreading across his face as he mimicked Sam’s signature cocky smile. "You know, the one that looks like he’s just won a race, but also thinks he’s won the race before anyone even started?"

You laughed harder now, imagining it. "God, yes. And don’t forget how he says, ‘This is the Falcon, signing off.’ I’m not even sure he knows how to take anything seriously."

Bucky’s expression softened at the mention of Sam. "Yeah, well, as much as he annoys me, it’s hard to imagine being stuck with anyone else. Can’t believe I’m saying this, but... he’s been a good friend. Even if he never lets up on the jokes."

You nodded, a smile tugging at your lips. "He has a weird way of making you feel like everything’s gonna be okay, even when it’s not. I think that’s why I like him... even when I wanna smack him with a pillow for talking too much."

Bucky snorted, his posture relaxing. "I think we both know Sam would take that as a compliment. He'd probably think it's an honor."

You finished folding the last of your clothes, turning to face him. "So, how are you holding up? You’re quieter than usual."

Bucky rubbed the back of his neck, his eyes flicking over to the window. "It’s just... strange, you know? This place is different. And I’m still getting used to everything."

You stepped closer, offering him a soft, understanding smile. "Yeah. It’s not exactly the city we’re used to,” you said, returning to your unpacking. “Wakanda's got a lot of energy to it, doesn’t it? It’s a lot to take in.”

He took his time to take in the room, glancing around, his gaze lingering on the walls and furniture as if trying to get used to the space. “It’s... quieter than I’m used to,” he admitted, his hands shoved into his pockets. “I thought I’d be able to sleep, but I guess my brain didn’t get the memo.”

You paused in your unpacking, glancing over at him with a wry smile. “I’m not sure ‘sleep’ is something you can just force, you know. I mean, look at me—I’m still unpacking.” You gestured to your neatly arranged drawers. “I’m practically unpacking my life here, one pair of jeans at a time.”

Bucky’s lips twitched at the corner, though his expression remained guarded. “So that’s the secret, huh? The key to surviving Wakanda? Unpack your emotions through your clothes?”

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head. “No, just the stuff. My emotions are a whole different thing.”

He leaned against the headrest of the couch, his arms crossing loosely. “I’m not sure I have the patience for all this organization.”

“Maybe not, but it helps,” you said, moving to your toiletries and setting them in the bathroom area. “You’d be surprised how something so simple can give you a little peace of mind. If only for a few minutes.”

Bucky grunted softly, looking out the window, as if the city beyond could provide the answers he was looking for. “I don’t know if peace is something I deserve.”

Your eyes softened at his words, but you didn’t look at him directly. You just kept moving your things around, neatly arranging personal care products with deliberate care. “Well, if you want my professional opinion, I think peace is something we all deserve,” you said quietly. “Even if we don’t think we’re ready for it.”

Bucky didn’t respond right away, but you could see his shoulders relax a little, the weight of his thoughts easing for just a second.

After a pause, he broke the silence with a small, rueful smile. “You’ve got a point, dove. You really do.” His voice softened a little. “Guess I just... haven’t figured out how to live in peace yet.”

You stood up, brushing your hands off on your jeans as you moved to your suitcase to grab a few more things. “It’s a work in progress, Buck’,” you said, offering him a grin. “One step at a time. Unpacking your stuff is as good a place to start as any.”

Bucky chuckled, a genuine sound this time, though it still held a trace of his usual wariness. “Maybe I’ll try it. I don’t think I’ve ever actually ‘unpacked’ before.”

You gave him a teasing look. “Well, you’re in Wakanda now. Time to learn how to take it slow.” You shrugged lightly, glancing at your suitcase. "Besides, we’ve got each other, so we’ll figure it out."

Bucky gave a small smile in return, though it was tinged with something bittersweet. "Yeah... we’ll figure it out." He paused, and then, with a mock serious tone, added, "I mean, as long as Sam doesn't pop in for a surprise visit in the middle of the night, ready to preach about how we're supposed to 'embrace the change.'"

You burst out laughing, holding your stomach. "Don’t even get me started on his 'life lessons.' The guy should really write a book: How to Be a Pain in the Ass While Pretending to Be a Therapist."

Bucky shook his head, chuckling along with you. "If he ever does, I’m not getting the first copy."

You both laughed for a moment before the room grew quiet again, the kind of comfortable silence that came with shared understanding. Bucky looked at you, his expression softening. "Thanks, dove."

You met his gaze and smiled softly, feeling the warmth between you both grow. "Anytime, Bucky. Anytime."

For a brief moment, you both stood there in comfortable silence, the hum of the city outside mingling with the soft sounds of the room. Bucky finally pushed himself off the wall, moving toward the door.

“Alright, I’m gonna try to get some rest. But if I end up staring at the ceiling all night, I might come knock on your door.”

You chuckled softly, nodding toward the bed. “I’ll be here, unpacking my life.”

As he stepped out of the room, he offered one last glance over his shoulder. “Good night,” he said, his voice quieter than before, something unspoken in the simple word.

You smiled, and for the first time since you’d arrived, the weight of the moment didn’t feel quite so heavy. Maybe Bucky would find his peace here, in his own time. Maybe you would too.

⠀

The sound of hovercrafts in the distance mingled with the hum of the city’s energy, filling the air with a futuristic melody. The capital city of Wakanda stretched out before you and Bucky—an intricate dance of nature and technology. Towering trees with glowing, bioluminescent leaves stood alongside sleek, gleaming structures made of materials that shimmered with a blue and purple hue. The holographic images that floated seamlessly in the air combined with the natural landscape in a way that felt entirely harmonious, like both elements had always been meant to coexist.

The door to the ship opened, and before you could even step out, a familiar voice rang out, filled with energy and excitement.

“Welcome to Wakanda!”

You turned, and there stood Shuri, flashing a bright, welcoming smile. She looked every bit as confident as the stories suggested. "I know it’s a lot, but you’ll get used to it. Wakanda isn’t just a city; it’s a way of life. Here, we don’t just build for the future—we build for everyone."

Your breath caught as you stepped out of the transport. The sight before you was nothing short of breathtaking. Massive trees stretched high into the sky, their roots intertwined with sleek, gleaming structures of Vibranium that rose from the earth, seamlessly blending with the natural landscape. It was like stepping into a world where technology and nature lived in perfect harmony.

Bucky, following you out of the transport, looked around with wide eyes, clearly trying to take it all in. His brow furrowed slightly, and he muttered under his breath, "I’ve heard a lot of things. Not sure I buy it."

You smiled, trying to mask your awe. "You’ll get used to it. Everything here, every piece of technology, is designed to coexist with nature."

Shuri nodded enthusiastically, practically bouncing on her heels. "Exactly! Everything you see here, from the trees to the tech, is powered by Vibranium. Not just for progress, but for balance. The future isn’t just about advancing; it’s about thriving together."

You glanced at Bucky, who seemed both impressed and confused. "Wakanda is one of the few places in the world where technology isn't just about what it can do—but how it helps everyone," you explained. "It’s all about progress and sustainability in equal measure."

“Sustainability, huh? I've seen a lot of places claim that and end up hollow promises,” he asked, his voice tinged with skepticism. 

She gave him a knowing look and grinned. "Oh, we have a skeptic among us." She walked up to Bucky with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "It’s alright, soldier, we’ll get you there. You just have to trust the science."

“Yeah, I’ve heard that before. A lot of science. Not really the biggest fan here,” he gave a dry, half-smile, his voice tinged with sarcasm as he gestured to his metal arm to make a point. Bucky squinted at her, his brow furrowing deeper. "And what exactly makes you an expert in all this? You don’t even look old enough to be handing out wisdom."

Shuri raised an eyebrow. "Oh, you think I’m not old enough, huh? Maybe I don’t have the experience you do, but I've got something better—Vibranium." She held up her wrist, where a sleek device hummed softly. "A little tech I designed, just for moments like these. It’s called patience—you could use some, by the way."

You laughed at the back-and-forth. "Careful, Buckaroo. You don’t want to get on Shuri’s bad side. She might turn your arm into a really high-tech paperweight."

Bucky chuckled reluctantly, his shoulders loosening a bit. "I’m starting to think I’m going to need one of those gadgets to survive here."

"Don’t worry, we’ve got plenty," Shuri quipped. "And if you keep acting like this, you might just need a stress monitor for your recovery too."

Bucky shot her a side-eye, but there was the faintest trace of a grin on his face now. "You’re really starting to sound like a tech guru now."

Shuri shrugged dramatically. "What can I say? Genius runs in the family. You should see my brother."

You could feel Bucky's skepticism starting to crack just a little bit, but he still looked like he wasn’t entirely convinced. "I’m still not sure about all this. You’ve got tech everywhere, but does it actually work?"

"Oh, it works alright," Shuri said, practically bouncing with enthusiasm. "Everything here has been designed to help us move forward. From food to healthcare, to your recovery." She gave him a knowing glance. "That’s why you're here, remember?"

Bucky snorted. "Yeah, right. I guess we’ll see if it works."

Shuri grinned even wider. "Oh, I know it works. You’ll feel like a new man by the time we’re done." She glanced at you, then back at Bucky. "Besides, if it doesn’t work, I’ll just have to fix it. Like everything else I do." Her voice was teasing, but there was a glint of genuine pride in it.

You smirked, unable to resist joining in. "I’m almost 100% sure that their motto is 'If it ain’t broke, I’ll make it better.'"

She waved her hand dismissively. "You’re not wrong, but it’s more like, ‘If it is broke, I’ll fix it before anyone notices.’"

Bucky gave an exaggerated sigh, shaking his head with a small smile. "I can already tell this is going to be... interesting."

She wasn’t done yet, though. "Oh, it gets better. Come on, I’m taking you to see the market. If you think this is impressive, wait until you see the food. You’ll never want to leave."

"Do you sell anything that doesn’t involve turning me into a guinea pig?" he questioned, half-joking.

Shuri paused for a moment, her smile widening. "I’m pretty sure I could sell you anything, but I won’t turn you into a guinea pig... unless you ask nicely."

You groaned in mock frustration, putting your hands over your ears. "Please, no more. If you start talking about guinea pigs, I’ll never hear the end of it."

Bucky, now chuckling, nudged you lightly. "Yeah, she’s not wrong, you know. I have a feeling we’re going to be hearing about guinea pigs for the rest of our lives."

You winked at him. "As long as it keeps you laughing, I’m happy to take the hit."

Shuri led you both through the heart of the city, and you couldn’t help but be mesmerized by the way the holograms danced above the streets, integrated into the towering trees and buildings. The city itself was alive with energy—there was music floating through the air, laughter from children darting between stalls, and the soft whirr of drones hovering like curious birds overhead.

As you walked through the open market, the scents of fresh fruit and spices filled the air. Vendors proudly displayed vibrant goods—scarves and jewelry, woven baskets, carved wood, and delicacies that looked too beautiful to eat. Your stomach rumbled as you walked past a stall brimming with bright, ripe strawberries, their sweet scent almost intoxicating.

You grinned, leaning toward Bucky. “Okay, we’re getting some of those,” you said, practically grabbing his arm and tugging him over to the stall. “Trust me, you’re going to love them. Wakandan strawberries are next-level.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow, looking at you like you were a little unhinged. “Strawberries again? Seriously?”

You gave him your best ‘don’t question it’ look. “I’ve been craving these for days. And I promise, you’ll understand once you try them.” You reached out and handed him a basket filled with the plump, ripe berries.

Bucky hesitated, clearly not convinced. But when he finally took one and popped it in his mouth, you watched his expression shift from skepticism to surprise. “Alright,” he said with a slight grin, "I admit it. These are... ridiculously good."

“Told you,” you said smugly. “Strawberries are basically a cure for whatever’s bothering you. Forget about all that mood-ring nonsense.” You gave him a playful nudge, making him chuckle under his breath.

Shuri laughed from behind you. “Wakandan strawberries have a special place in everyone’s heart here. They’re like a little taste of home for all of us.”

Your group made your way through the market, sampling fruits, laughing at a few street performers, and taking in the vibrant life all around you. As much as Bucky tried to stay on guard, you could see the faintest softening in his posture. He was still unsure about letting himself go, but the relaxed pace of the market and the genuine warmth of the people around him were starting to wear down his defenses.

Finally, Shuri led you to a tech stall, where a series of gadgets were displayed—sleek, high-tech devices designed for physical recovery and mental wellness. Bucky eyed them with a raised eyebrow.

"These are wearable devices that monitor your mood and stress levels," Shuri explained, picking up a small device that looked like a high-tech bracelet. “They use Vibranium’s unique properties to help balance your energy and emotions. We’ve used them to help soldiers and citizens alike manage their mental well-being.”

Bucky stared at it, still skeptical. “What is this, a wearable therapist?”

You laughed at the remark. “More like a personal mood assistant,” you said, lifting an eyebrow. “It helps track your recovery. Think of it as a tool for healing—not just your body, but your mind too. You’ve been through a lot, Bucky. This could help.”

He glanced at the device, then back at you. “I don’t know if I need anything that tracks my stress.”

"You’ve got a lot of it, buddy,” you teased. “Look, just try it. It’ll be worth it. It’s not like they’re going to put a tracking chip in your head... yet.”

Shuri jumped in, her eyes lighting up. “You’ll love it! This thing is perfect for stress management. And we all know someone here could use a little stress relief.”

“Ha-ha,” Bucky muttered dryly, but a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Alright, I’ll bite. But only because you two are relentless.”

The tour continued as Shuri led you both toward the final stop: a sleek, Vibranium-powered chamber nestled within the heart of the city. The walls hummed with energy, a soft, almost soothing vibration that seemed to pulse in tune with your heartbeat.

“This,” Shuri said, “is where you’ll undergo the treatment for your Hydra triggers. The Vibranium will stimulate your mind, breaking the neural connections tied to Hydra’s programming.”

Bucky glanced at the chamber, a slight wariness returning to his face. “And this is going to help?”

You stepped closer, your voice calm but firm. “Yes, Bucky. It’s cutting-edge, and it’s the best treatment available. You’re going to be okay.”

Bucky looked at you, the walls of his emotions crumbling just a little. He gave a small nod, his voice barely above a whisper. “Alright. Let’s do it.”

⠀

Wakanda’s advanced technology was beyond anything Bucky had ever experienced. Even as he stepped into the sterile, high-tech facility, he couldn’t shake the feeling of being out of place. The room was cold and sterile, yet somehow comforting in its advanced design. The walls hummed with quiet energy, their sleek metallic surfaces reflecting the soft blue glow of the Vibranium-powered technology that filled the room. It was all so very Wakandan—a perfect blend of high-tech gadgets and sleek design, wrapped in the ancient energy of the country’s prized metal.

Bucky sat in the chair at the center of the room, looking far too tense for comfort. His brow furrowed as he glanced at the odd machinery around him, a combination of devices connected by smooth, glowing wires. Shuri was at the controls, her fingers dancing across the holographic panels, eyes sparkling with excitement as she prepared for the procedure.

"Alright, white boy," Shuri said, her voice smooth and filled with anticipation, though there was an underlying seriousness to it. "This will take a few rounds to clear the Hydra programming from your mind. Don’t worry. We’ve been working on this for a while, and you’re in good hands. It’s a lot like rebooting an old computer."

Bucky glanced over at you, his face still shadowed with doubt. "Should I feel offended that you just compared me to ancient tech? You know what, don’t answer that. You’re sure this will work, right?" Bucky asked, a slight tremor in his voice. His skepticism was clear—years of Hydra’s control had made him wary of trusting anyone, even in this sanctuary of high-tech Wakanda.

You gave him a reassuring smile. "I wouldn’t let them do this if I didn’t think it would help. Besides, Shuri is the best. She knows her stuff."

Shuri flashed him a confident grin. "Of course I do. This will work, Barnes. But we may need to run a few tests, and it might take some time to fully clear out all the lingering effects of Hydra."

Bucky’s shoulders tensed at the mention of “lingering effects,” but he nodded, letting out a slow breath. "Let’s get it over with."

The machines hummed to life, and the lights dimmed as Bucky’s chair tilted back slightly. Thin, silver-like tendrils of light wrapped around his temples, their ends pressing gently against his skin. The energy was soft at first—barely noticeable—but soon the feeling intensified. Bucky's jaw clenched as he fought the discomfort, his hands gripping the chair's armrests.

Shuri’s hands moved deftly over the controls, and the room seemed to come alive with a soft, electric hum. Light from the machines shifted from a cool blue to a deeper shade of violet, and several devices surrounding Bucky powered on. Thin, silver threads of light extended from the machines, wrapping gently around his temples and wrists.

"This first round is designed to target the specific Hydra triggers in your mind," Shuri explained. "We’ll disarm them piece by piece. It’s a delicate process, but nothing we can’t handle. This won’t hurt," she reassured him, though there was a glimmer of mischievousness in her eyes. "Well, not much."

Almost immediately, the first wave hit. Bucky's eyes widened as a sharp, invasive sensation shot through his skull, sending a jolt of panic down his spine. His body went rigid, and for a moment, you saw the old soldier in him—the one who had fought through Hydra’s control and survived against all odds.

His breathing hitched as his mind began to flash with images: snow-covered landscapes, dark rooms, the heavy, cold sound of a gunshot, whispers in languages he couldn’t understand, but that sent terror through his chest. The Hydra programming wasn’t just a set of memories—it was a feeling, a trigger buried so deep in his psyche that even now, he could feel it clawing its way to the surface.

"James," you said firmly, your voice cutting through the noise. "James, focus. You’re not there anymore. You’re with us. You’re safe."

He flinched, a strangled noise escaping him as he struggled to regain control. His fingers dug deeper into the armrests, nails biting into the metal.

"Stay with me," you said again, this time with more urgency. "Take a breath. You’re safe. This isn’t real. You’ve come so far already."

Bucky’s eyes flicked to yours, a momentary flash of panic in them before he took a deep breath. His body trembled for a second, but he forced himself to center on your voice. Slowly, the images of Hydra started to fade, but they didn't disappear completely. The fear and anxiety remained just beneath the surface, faint but persistent.

Slowly, very slowly, the panic started to fade. His breath steadied, and the bright blue light around him flickered and pulsed, syncing with his heartbeat. After what felt like a century, the light dimmed, and the invasive presence in his mind faded, leaving only a dull ache where the triggers once were.

"How are you feeling?" you asked, your voice gentle but still steady.

Bucky blinked rapidly, trying to clear the fog from his head. He seemed disoriented, his expression a mix of confusion and relief. "Like... like someone just tried to tear my brain out of my skull," he muttered, his voice rough.

Shuri gave him a sympathetic glance as she adjusted the settings. "Don’t worry. We’ll make this a little easier each time. You’re doing great."

Bucky ran a hand through his hair, his eyes a little too wide, but he nodded. "Great? That felt like... like I was back in their hands for a second."

"I know," you said softly. "But that’s why we’re here. We’re making sure it stays in the past."

Shuri watched the readings carefully, her brow furrowing. "The main triggers are gone, but there’s still some residual tension in his mind. I’ll need to adjust the frequencies to target that."

You nodded. "Take your time, Shuri. He’s doing great."

As the second wave of scans began, the light around Bucky intensified. His eyes locked onto the ceiling, his hands gripping the armrest so hard that his knuckles turned white. The machine flashed bright, blue light, and his body tensed, back arching as the memory overwhelmed him. The trigger was strong this time—one of Hydra’s words in his ear, sharp and laced with command.

"It’s happening again," Bucky muttered, his voice strained. "I can’t stop it."

The faintest tremor of panic started to creep into his voice as the memories surfaced again—less distinct now, but still there, like shadows lurking in the back of his mind.

You leaned in, lightly placing a hand on his. "James, listen to me." You spoke softly but with conviction. "You are not the Winter Soldier. You’ve beaten Hydra before. You’re stronger now. They can’t control you anymore."

He blinked hard, still trembling, his eyes flickering in confusion and terror. "It’s... it’s still in me," he muttered, barely audible.

You met his gaze, locking eyes with him, forcing him to look at you. "It’s not in you anymore, Bucky. You’re free. This is just the residue. You’ve been through the worst of it, and now you’re healing. It’s not going to take hold again."

For a moment, it seemed like the weight of your words cut through the fog of fear clouding his mind. Bucky’s breathing steadied slightly as his fingers relaxed on the armrests. The sensation of fear and control began to subside, replaced by the quiet buzz of the tech doing its work. His eyes searched yours, and after a long pause, he gave a small nod, forcing himself to relax. Slowly, the machine’s light dimmed again, the invasive presence receding.

Shuri nodded from the control panel, her voice filled with approval. "We’re almost there, Barnes. A few more adjustments, and you’ll be free of this for good."

The next rounds went by much like the first, with Bucky getting progressively more used to the sensation. Each time, the light would flare up as the machine scanned for the dormant Hydra programming. The invasive memories still crept in, but they became more distant and easier to ignore as the process went on. Shuri worked her tech with precision, using pulses of energy that helped rewire Bucky’s synapses, recalibrating the damaged pathways left by Hydra. But it was clear—it wasn’t a simple fix. Even with the tech clearing his mind, it was going to take time for Bucky to fully adapt. The mental scars didn’t vanish overnight.

In between rounds, the poor soldier would let out short, sharp breaths, his gaze never staying still, his body tensing at the smallest sensation. But each time, he managed to push through, knowing you were right there, watching him, guiding him.

At last, the princess finally signaled that they were finished. The machines powered down, and Bucky’s chair slowly returned to its original position. He let out a deep breath, the tension in his muscles slowly melting away. The heavy weight that had been pressing on him seemed lighter, and though there were still shadows in his mind, they no longer felt like they could control him.

As the machine powered down for the last time, Bucky sat there, his expression weary, but the light in his eyes softer, less clouded.

"That’s it," Shuri said with a smile. "The triggers are gone. For now, anyway."

You stepped forward, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You did great. You’re in control again."

Bucky looked at you, his face tense but grateful. "Feels weird," he admitted, rubbing his temples. "It’s like I’m seeing everything for the first time again. It’s not all gone, though. It’s like the memories are still there, like... a weight."

You nodded, understanding. "It will take time, Bucky. You’re not expected to be perfect right now. We’ll help you through it."

"Alright, white boy," she said, her tone light but with an edge of focus. "Before we get to the fun stuff, we’re going to test your physical limits. Time to give you a break—how about a friendly sparring match?"

Bucky raised an eyebrow, clearly not expecting that. "You’re testing me now? After all those mind games?"

"Oh, don’t worry, you’ll survive," Shuri said, her eyes dancing with mischief. "But first, I need to see how well your body’s holding up. You know, just to make sure the mental recovery is syncing with your physical condition."

He glanced at you for a second, a slight smirk tugging at his lips. "I shouldn’t worry, right?"

You chuckled, already knowing what was coming. "Don’t let her intimidate you, old man. Just go with it."

Shuri took a step forward, motioning for Bucky to follow her as she walked toward the large training arena, a vast space made for simulations and sparring. "Now, before we get into the arm inspection," she said, flipping a holographic switch to bring up a grid-like fighting field, "I want to see what you can really do. How well is your body handling your recovery?"

Bucky raised an eyebrow. "You mean you want me to fight you?"

Shuri nodded, already cracking her knuckles. "Exactly. I’m not going easy on you, so be prepared."

You gave Bucky an encouraging grin. "Don’t worry, it’s not all about brute strength. You’ll do fine, just listen to her."

Shuri’s eyes glinted as she stepped back, preparing herself for the spar. "Come on, Soldier. Show me what you’ve got."

Bucky shifted into a defensive stance, his metal arm twitching slightly, like it was itching to do some real damage. But as soon as the simulation’s holographic lights flashed, you saw the hesitation in his movements. His years of conditioning were still there, as though he was ready to go full force at any moment, but something held him back.

You couldn't help but feel a little proud at how far he’d come, but now was the time for him to let go of his past baggage.

"Come on, Barnes," you called out from the sidelines, your voice light but encouraging. "You’re not going to be in control of yourself if you don’t just let go."

Shuri smirked at you, then turned her attention back to Bucky. "She’s right. Relax. I’m not here to test your limits to break you, just to push you. Let’s see how much you can really control."

Bucky hesitated for a second longer before lunging forward. His metal arm swung with force, but Shuri was quick, ducking under the blow and countering with a well-placed jab to his stomach. The force wasn’t enough to knock him back, but it was enough to push him off balance.

"Not bad," Shuri commented, grinning. "But you’re holding back. I know it’s there."

Bucky growled slightly, clearly frustrated, but tried to adjust. He aimed another strike at her, this time with his human arm. But Shuri was too fast again, dodging and weaving around him, her foot sweeping out from under him and sending him crashing to the floor.

You chuckled from the sidelines, unable to resist. "You’re gonna have to do better than that, old man."

Bucky groaned as he pushed himself up, a grin starting to spread across his face. "I don’t need you getting on my case too, dove."

You shrugged with a smirk, crossing your arms. "Hey, I’m just telling you how it is. You can’t fight like you’re trying to hold back all your life. Trust me, I know. You’ve got it in you."

Shuri watched, impressed by the banter. "You know, this is better than I thought it would be. You’re starting to loosen up a little. Now let’s see if you can catch me."

And with that, she was on him again, her movements like lightning as she pressed her attack. Bucky was more aware now, his body reacting faster, his movements flowing with more freedom. You could see the change, the way his rigidness slowly started to fade as he gave in to the fight. The tension in his body started to dissipate, and he was no longer fighting with the same heavy burden on his mind.

"There you go," you called out. "That’s what I’m talking about!"

Shuri was grinning now as she took a step back. "This is getting good. You’re not as slow as I thought, white boy."

Bucky was grinning too, though there was a glint of determination in his eyes. "I told you I could keep up."

You could see the way he was moving now—faster, more fluid. Each strike felt like it was coming from a man who was no longer under the weight of Hydra’s control. It was like he was finding his rhythm again, and you couldn’t help but feel a little proud of how far he’d come.

Shuri raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed. "I think you’ve earned a break. But not before we get to the real reason you’re here."

She flicked her wrist, and the holographic field shifted. A soft hum filled the air as she made her way to Bucky. "We’ll test your arm now. But remember, I’m not just checking for damage. I’m also making sure there’s no... lingering side effects."

Bucky held out his arm, now fully aware of the attention it would receive. "Yeah, yeah, go ahead."

Shuri ran her fingers over the metal, pressing certain points and watching closely as Bucky shifted slightly under her touch. She tapped a few buttons on her wristband, bringing up a scan of his arm on the nearby holographic screen.

"Everything looks good so far," she said after a moment, but then her expression turned serious. "But there’s some wear near the joints. I’m going to run a diagnostic test on the connections later—nothing to worry about for now, but we need to make sure it’s in top shape before you get back to real combat."

Bucky nodded. "I don’t need a babysitter for my arm, little girl."

"I’m not babysitting, I’m just making sure it’s running like a well-oiled machine." Shuri gave him a smirk before turning back to you. "I’d say he’s ready for more. What do you think, Sparky?"

You raised an eyebrow at the nickname, watching Bucky as he stretched, clearly still ready to go. "I think he’s ready for whatever’s next."

⠀

The diagnostic on Bucky’s arm didn't to take long, and Shuri quickly completed it. "Alright, Barnes. Now that your arm’s not going to fall off just yet," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she looked him up and down, "Let’s see if your strength is actually matching up with all the talk."

Bucky rolled his eyes but grinned. "You know, I don’t want to offend my host. I might just let you win again."

Shuri shot him a look, her eyes narrowing as her stance shifted. "Please. I’m the one who invented half of this stuff, white boy. You’re not gonna get off that easy."

"Not for lack of trying," Bucky muttered, readying himself. He squared up and dropped into a more familiar stance, feeling the weight of the training and all the work he’d been putting into his recovery. Even though his body felt stronger, his mind was still in the process of catching up. The battle against the Hydra programming wasn’t a one-and-done situation—it was going to take time.

Shuri went first, her movements a blur as she darted toward him, landing a quick strike to his ribs before he could even react. Bucky stumbled, but quickly regained his balance. The momentary trigger of a past fight or memory didn’t set him off, but it did make him hesitate for just a fraction of a second.

"Come on, Soldier!" Shuri called out, her grin widening. "I thought you said you were keeping up!"

You stood off to the side, arms crossed, watching intently. "Remember to relax, she’s not gonna break." You offered him a teasing smile. "Just let loose a little. She’s just showing off."

Shuri danced around him with ease, dodging his attempts to grab hold of her. She was fast—faster than he expected—and her moves were filled with an effortless grace. It was clear she was toying with him, but Bucky wasn’t backing down. He adjusted his focus, blocking and dodging her blows with more precision, his footwork becoming more fluid as he reacted in real time.

For the first time since he’d entered the arena, Bucky felt something inside him click. He stopped thinking about every move. Instead, he allowed his instincts to take over, trusting his strength and speed rather than his muscle memory. The hesitation was gone, and he was moving like he used to, without the mental chains holding him back. He had Shuri in his sights and wasn’t going to let up.

Shuri’s expression shifted from teasing to impressed as Bucky finally landed a blow—a clean jab to her shoulder that sent her staggering back a few steps.

"Well, I’ll be damned," Shuri said, her tone more approving now. "Seems like you still have it."

Bucky smirked, his chest rising with satisfaction. "Told you I could keep up."

The two went back and forth, a fierce but playful exchange of blows, until finally, Shuri backed off and raised her hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. You’ve proven your point."

Bucky stood there, breathing heavily but clearly energized by the fight. You stepped up, clapping your hands together with a wide smile. "See? Wasn’t that fun?"

Bucky’s grin was infectious as he wiped a bit of sweat off his brow. "Yeah, I guess it wasn’t that bad."

Shuri turned to you, her eyes gleaming. "Alright, Sparky, your turn. Let’s see if you can catch me off guard like you did in the last match."

You raised an eyebrow, glancing at Bucky, who gave you an encouraging nod. "Well, now you’ve set the bar high. I’m not going easy on you, Shuri."

"Please," Shuri shot back, her hands up in mock defense. "You’ve been watching me fight for hours. You should be learning from the best."

Without further hesitation, you lunged forward, engaging in a playful but intense match with Shuri. The two of you danced around each other in a blur of motion, your moves swift and calculated. Despite the lighthearted nature of the spar, you could feel the tension lifting from your body with each exchange, just as Bucky had felt it earlier.

While you were engaged with Shuri, Bucky stepped to the side, wiping his hands on his pants, trying to catch his breath. It felt good to get some of the old tension out, and he could already feel a weight lifting off his chest. This wasn’t just about physical recovery; this was about reclaiming who he was before Hydra took everything from him.

As you landed a final mock hit on Shuri, the two of you paused, both out of breath but smiling. "Okay," Shuri said, raising her hands in mock defeat. "You win. For now."

Bucky chuckled and gave you an approving glance. "Not bad at all, dove."

Before you could respond, the hum of the training facility shifted, and you turned to see none other than King T’Challa himself entering, his imposing presence filling the room. He stood tall and regal, as always, his black suit glimmering in the light.

"I see I’ve missed the fun," T'Challa said, his voice smooth and commanding but laced with amusement. His gaze flickered to you and Bucky, a hint of recognition sparking in his eyes. "It’s good to see both of you adjusting to the training."

Shuri quickly approached him, a grin spreading across her face. "You’re late, brother. We were just finishing up testing the new recruits."

"Your Highness," you greeted with a respectful nod, trying to keep it casual despite the obvious presence of royalty.

Bucky shot a quick, somewhat uneasy glance at T'Challa. "Good to see you, my King." There was an awkward pause. "You know, for a king, you really get around."

T'Challa raised an eyebrow, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. "I have to keep an eye on all things Wakanda, soldier. You know how it is." He nodded to Shuri, who was now standing by his side. "But it seems like you’ve both been testing your skills. Shuri tells me you’re adjusting well."

Bucky gave him a nod but glanced at you for a second, unsure of how to respond. "It’s... a process." He wasn’t one for small talk, but he appreciated the respect, however minimal.

Shuri couldn’t resist chiming in with a teasing grin. "Oh, he’s adjusting alright. You should’ve seen him during his first simulation—he was more stiff than an old tree trunk." She grinned at Bucky’s groan, enjoying every second of it. "But he’s getting there. Slowly but surely."

T'Challa’s expression softened as he looked at Bucky, understanding more than Shuri likely realized. "Recovery is not an easy thing." He glanced over at you. "And neither is learning to live with one’s past."

You gave him a nod, your gaze meeting Bucky’s for a second before you turned back to T'Challa. "We’re getting there, one step at a time."

T'Challa smiled approvingly. "I admire that resilience. It’s something we value here in Wakanda." Then, with a sudden shift in tone, he looked at Bucky with an intrigued glint in his eyes. "Though, I must admit, I’m curious to see how well you fare against me. A bit of friendly competition. What do you say?"

Bucky raised an eyebrow, but there was a fire behind his gaze. "You want to spar with me?" There was a hint of hesitation, but he stood tall. "Alright, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. I’m not exactly new to this whole combat thing."

You chuckled at the banter between them, feeling a slight tension lifting in the air. "Bucky’s modest, your Highness." You raised your eyebrows playfully. "He’s a bit of a pro."

T'Challa shot you a smirk. "We shall see." His eyes gleamed as he turned to Shuri. "I trust you’ll monitor the match?" His voice was both joking and confident, a reflection of his quiet authority.

Shuri, clearly amused, leaned back against a nearby pillar. "Of course. But don’t expect me to step in and save either of you."

The two warriors squared off, and the battle began. It was intense, the simulation environment adapted around them to create a variety of settings that challenged their skills. The air seemed to crackle with anticipation as Bucky and T'Challa went back and forth, exchanging blows and testing each other’s limits.

T'Challa was swift, his agility unmatched, his movements fluid and precise. Bucky, though initially stiff, was growing into the rhythm of the fight. Every time he took a hit or made a mistake, you could see the mental gears turning as he shook off the old training, not just physically but emotionally. The fight, at its core, was a way for him to break free from the grip of his past, and with every successful move, you saw more of that freedom in his eyes.

At one point, Bucky got a clean strike on him, and you couldn't help but grin. "Nice one, Bucky!" You teased, winking at him as T'Challa tried to regain his footing.

T'Challa let out a chuckle, raising an eyebrow at you. "I see you’ve got a knack for encouraging troublemakers." His tone was light, but the respect was evident in his gaze.

As the match continued, Bucky and T'Challa pushed each other to their limits, the combat becoming more than just physical—it was a test of strength, willpower, and resilience. Finally, after a long, hard-fought battle, T'Challa managed to get the upper hand, pinning Bucky to the ground.

Both men panted, sweaty and bruised, but there was no malice in T'Challa’s eyes, only a deep respect.

The king stood up and extended a hand to Bucky, pulling him to his feet. "I must admit, I did not expect that much resistance. You’ve earned my respect." He grinned, looking over at you. "And you, my friend, are no slouch either."

You laughed, wiping some sweat from your brow. "Well, someone has to keep him on his toes." You nudged Bucky playfully.

T'Challa looked at you both, a thoughtful expression on his face before he nodded. "You both are warriors in your own right." He walked over to the side of the room, where a ceremonial dagger rested on a pedestal. With a dramatic flair, he picked it up, turning back toward you and Bucky. "In recognition of your resilience and strength, I will knight you both."

Bucky’s eyes widened in surprise. "Knight us? Really?"

T'Challa nodded, his tone light but firm. "Yes, indeed. The royal family needs soldiers like you—strong, resilient, and fierce." His smile was playful, but there was a deeper meaning behind it.

You both protested, not wanting to accept the title, but T'Challa insisted with a laugh, his voice warm and commanding. "You don’t have to like it, but I’m already planning something for you two anyway."

Bucky glanced at you, then at T'Challa, and, after a beat, gave in with a grin. "Alright, alright. But don’t expect us to start calling ourselves knights or anything."

You nodded, smirking. "Yeah, we’ll stick to being not-so-humble soldiers."

T'Challa’s grin widened as he placed a hand on each of your shoulders. "Very well. But know this—you are both welcome here."

You and Bucky exchanged a look, a silent understanding passing between you. Whatever came next, it was going to be a memorable ride.

PART ONE. l NEXT PART.

Want to read more of my works? Check out my masterlist !

taglist : @stilleobjection — @the-fandoms-onceler — @zyra-7 .

⠀⠀

dividers ©️ @cafekitsune .

angelremnants ©️ 2024. All rights reserved. Do not repost, reproduce, or distribute without explicit permission.

[owlobservation]

Itoshi Rin Profile from Egoist Bible (2022)

"To me, soccer is a battle to death."

Bluelock Ranking: 1 (at the beginning of second selection)

Weapons: Kicking accuracy, technique, tactical vision, physical ability.

Birthdate: September, 9th.

Age: 16 (First year high school)

Zodiac sign: Virgo.

Birthplace: Kanagawa Prefecture (Kamakura City)

Family structure: Father, mother, older brother, himself.

Height: 186 cm.

Foot size: 27.5 cm.

Blood type: A.

Dominant foot: Right.

Favorite soccer player: David Beckham. "I respect his kicks."

Age started playing soccer: For as long as I can remember. "I grew up watching my big brother play."

Motto: "The field is a battlefield", "Tepid" (habit)

Strengths: I can play soccer. "Anything else doesn't matter."

Weaknesses: Unfriendly. "If you don't like it then don't bother me."

Favorite food: Ochazuke. "Especially sea bream chazuke."

Disliked food: Vinegared dish. "I don't like sour things."

Best rice accompaniment: Tuna. "Soy sauce and wasabi combo is the winner. No objection."

Hobby: Getting the chills from horror games and horror movies.

Favorite season: Autumn. "I like it when it's a bit chilly."

Favorite music: King Gnu in general. "Especially Prayer X."

Favorite movie: Horror movie in general. "Especially The Shining."

Favorite manga: Dragon Head and Ciguatera.

Character color: Turquoise Blue.

Favorite animal: Owl. "I'm fascinated by them. I think it's the eyes."

Best subjects: Physical Education, Art.

Weak subjects: Calligraphy. "I hate having to write exactly as I'm taught."

What makes you happy: I don't know.

What makes you sad?: When someone is better at soccer than me. "So far it's only my big brother."

Last year's valentine day chocolates: I don't remember because I rejected and returned all of them.

Sleep time: 7,5 hours.

Where do you wash first in the bath?: The eyes with warm water

What do you like to buy at the convenient store?: Eye masks that warm the eyes.

Mushroom or Bamboo Shoots: Mushroom.

What made you cry recently?: I don't cry.

At what age did you stop receiving presents from Santa?: 8 years old. "When my big brother stopped getting them I followed him and stopped getting them too... Truthfully, I still wanted them."

What did you ask for a Christmas present from Santa?: The same cleats as my big brother.

What would you do on your last day on earth?: Fight my big brother.

What would you do if you received 100 million yen?: Place a bet on a single number in Roulette*.

What do you do on your days off?: Immerse myself in horror games or horror movies.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

An extraordinary player who boasts the top skills in Blue Lock

The monster reigning at the top of the new Blue Lock Ranking. Not only are his kicking, dribbling technique, and physical abilities outstanding, he's also able to read opponents' plays several moves ahead and manipulate them at will, making him the true ruler of the field. He's an extraordinary player with no flaws.

Is there a connection between his overbearing attitude and his brother?!

Rin is the younger brother of Itoshi Sae, who is selected as one of the "New Generation World 11". His goal is using "Blue Lock" to join Japanese National Team and surpass his older brother. His disrespectful attitude of dismissing Isagi and other players' play as "a tepid ball-kicking game**" seems to be deeply connected to his brother. When he finally surpasses his brother, will Rin's troubled mind*** be cleared?

A day at Blue Lock

"My bangs were falling over my right eye and it was starting to get annoying. I decided to cut my bangs and lifted it in front of the mirror. My face looked like my brother's, and I hated everything about it."

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Rin's Ranking on "Best 3 of Everything: Blue Lock players voted each other"

1. Ranked #3 The Most Hardworking

2. Ranked #3 The Most Short-Tempered

3. Ranked #1 Worst at Communication

Rin's commentary: "...I have no intention of having tepid communication with you people"

4. Ranked #2 The Best at Study****

5. Ranked #1 "Doesn't have many friends"

Rin's commentary: "...Friends? It's just a low-level community for sharing tepid experiences."

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Notes:

*In Roulette, betting on a single number is called a "straight up bet". It's the riskiest bet, but if you win the 35:1 payout will be very rewarding. (Highest-risk, Highest-reward).

**"A tepid ball-kicking game" is a reference to ch. 46. Official English publication translated it as "Mediocre playtime."

***The word in Japanese is 荒んだ心 "susanda kokoro" (lit.rough heart or hardened heart). It's an expression usually used to describe someone with prickly (rough) attitude because their mind is messed up or disturbed by something. For this context I'm using "troubled mind."

****The title/ranking is "Who Can Study Well". Basically, Rin is the #2 person who is very good at studying (benkyou 勉強).

On his profile, Rin referred to Sae as "兄ちゃん niichan". All the "big brother" mentioned by Rin here are originally "niichan" in Japanese.

Check Rin's updated profile from the second volume of Egoist Bible for more!

[random-dragon-exe]

Okay, MAJOR SALT COMING! Also a long post!

So I have the Disney Villains tarot deck but before I go into the salt part of the post, let's go into the positives.

The cards have stunning art and each card is appropriately themed to the villain generally speaking about 98% of the time. (IMO).

Another positive is the roster of villains included. Seeing even a few minor/underrated villains is pretty cool and impressive.

Some examples of these villains include Bowler Hat Guy, Madame Mim, Madame Medusa, and possibly Yzma.

Now onto the salt.

As impressive as the span of villains is, two villains are absent who (IMO) deserved a card.

King Candy

Frollo

First, there are other villains absent, but I'm sticking to these two since I've seen these movies. Now going in order, it is an absolute SHAME (IMO) that King Candy doesn't have a card, but I have an idea of which card suits him best.

The King of Swords. Although this card is given to Scar, and I do love how it looks, I believe that King Candy deserved it.

Plus, Scar appears on like three other cards, so I think it's okay for him to appear three times (sorry Scar, I do love you too).

Anyway, I'm going to go into some detail as to why I believe King Candy/Turbo deserves the card by going into the meaning of it and how it relates to him.

I'll admit, I have a lot of points and can talk about this for days, but I'm going to condense them to 3-ish. I'll do the same for Frollo too in a part 2 post.

Going for a two in one here: The card is about being an authority who uses reason and their intelligence for good. while the reverse of this is being cunning to deceive people.

After Turbo hijacked Sugar Rush, he was very methodical about his approach to make it sound like he's their rightful ruler. He locked up their memories, then he fabricated the lie that she was a danger to their game. Turbo did his best to make sure nothing went unchecked and made sure to make the lie sound convincing to protect them (but mostly him). He's very strategic, and was able to come up with a plan to manipulate Ralph with 16 manipulation tactics in one go. He was even able to feign being concerned to play on Ralph's attachment to Vanellope.

I think the best line that best captures this aspect of the card is "Doing what's right, no matter what." AKA: He recognizes that it may sound harsh, but he makes his lies sound reasonable to protect his subjects and game.

The card also represents enjoying structure when upright. But it's controlling and oppressive in a need for order when reversed.

Turbo needs everything to be to be going his way, as he's a control freak.

Inserting the test animation here, he even says "You are a threat to my game, to the order I have maintained. And if there's one thing I can't abide, it's anything out of order!"

Also, the split-second something isn't in his control, he starts to fumble and break into either rage or nervously laughing. He's capable of coming off as cool and composed, but he's scared of being caught and it can cause him to lash out in anger (another aspect of the card).

Just as mentioned in the previous point, he made sure nothing went unchecked and made an entire world literally revolve around him. He can and WILL happily use all of his resources of excessive force he has like the cops, the Sugar Rush equivalent of S.W.A.T., and the fungeon to detain someone who stands in his way.

As a minor note, there's a line in the tarot guidebook that states the reverse of the card can represent "someone who needs to win at any cost." Which describes Turbo to a T. He not only wants attention but he's also extremely competitive. It's part of his programming, and it ties to his love for racing. To always come out on top and be #1. No matter who or what stands in his way.

That core drive (pun intended) was the cause of his villainy in the first place and earned him his infamous status in the arcade.

Okay, I don't want to sound too salty, but you can imagine my disappointment when King Candy didn't get a card.

Oh well, Its fine, I still love and use this deck.

So I guess we can call this the thrilling conclusion to the 3 part saga of including King Candy in Disney Villain merchandise.

Also as a sidenote: hypothetically if he did get this card, what would the imagery be?

I feel the card has the potential to get creative with the glitch effects. For example make it so that he's glitching between the Turbo appearance and the King Candy appearance. If we want to be a little cheeky, we could have it set in his castle, and out the window, we see a the cybug Ralph initially sent to SR flying outside a castle window. (similar to Hook's card as the crocodile is seen outside)

So basically, my interpretation would be a mix of these images and Captain Hook's card:

But, if anyone else has really cool ideas, I'd love to hear them! If you want, you could also draw it out to illustrate your point (pun intended) Honestly please do, I'd love to see other people's interpretations of this card for him. The possibilities are endless!

Join me in my antics next time when I analyze Frollo and and the card I think he should've gotten.

[thecynner]

Idk @king-crawler I feel like it went something like this with him meeting Princess Vanellope and giving a sob story and saying how much they're both alike with them being "Rebellious" and how she should very kindly gift the kingdom and crown to him! Obviously with his 16 manipulation tactics

[kieranxvalentine]

Your Love Is My Drug [M. O'hara]

༻♡༺✎ Miguel loved you with all his heart, and he would do anything to protect your peace. ༻♡༺✎ Yandere! Miguel O'hara x SpiderVariant! Reader ༻♡༺✎ 16+ (Yandere content, mentions of bullying, manipulative tactics (not too obvious), ༻♡༺✎ 1.4k words! ༻♡༺✎ Hi everyone! Please read the little announcment at the end of my story for an update on me! Hope you enjoy! [Hasn't been proofread yet]

“Great another one…” “Does she even know the responsibilities that come with wearing the suit?” “tch..I can see her crumbling in a few days.”

Besides your friends, some of the other spider variants were less than nice to you. It didn’t help that you already kind of knew Miguel from being rescued by him when your universe had a little bit of trouble before you were bitten. He's been involved in your life before you assumed the superhero role.

You walked past the trio, only to hear them snickering at you, making fun of you.

"She's so weak, always having to depend on Miguel..~" "Tch..that's pitiful, I know he's annoyed with her." "She didn't deserve to become a spiderwoman." "She's probably sleeping with him.." "Has to be.." "There's no way he would keep her around.."

You turned on your heels and immediately went to Miguel's Office. You could feel the tears pooling up in your eyes. While yes you found yourself dating Miguel. but that wasn't why you were here.

You were here after unexpectedly becoming spiderwoman.

How he didn’t know you were going to be this universe’s spidervariant surprised you. But he kept you close, already having an unspoken bond with you that he didn’t have with anyone else.

He would ask for you to come to his office just so he could hold you, to remind himself that you were here, that you were okay. 

He knew the harshness of the outside world. You were so small compared to him, you needed him for protection, for guidance. You looked up to him. He knew your worth, it’s why he brought you here the moment he discovered you were a spider person.

The two of you spent lots of time together before you even became spiderwoman after seeing him with Jess and Peter im her universe as they chased an anomaly.

Miguel was ever present in your life after that, he felt drawn to you. He knew right then that he had to have you nearby him. 

You were addicting, you were so sweet. Always checking in on him after a rough mission, bringing him food from the cafeteria when you’d realize he hadn’t eaten. He realized he was head over heels for you. 

He had to have you.

No one else might’ve seen your worth, but he definitely did. 

He saw so much in you. He loved you with all his heart, you gave him a sense of peace that no one else had managed to since he lost his daughter. It took him a minute to admit his feelings to you. But when he did he was hooked. You were such a darling. 

He called you many pet names, sweet, cavity inducing names and he would hug you every time he saw you, no matter where he was. He needed to hug you, to hold you in his arms at least once a day to remind himself that you were his.

Miguel was protective over you, he would be by your side on missions, always calling you on your watch  to make sure you’re doing alright. He didn’t like anyone messing with you. He was your protector.

So when you came up to him with tears in your pretty (e/c) eyes, he grew concerned. He heard your sniffles that you tried to hide as you slowly made your way over to him.

His heart twisted, but he also felt anger pool up inside of him. Who dared to make you cry?..

He hopped down off his platform and walked over, cradling your face in his large hands, wiping away your tears. “What happened?’ He asked and he watched as you averted your gaze.

“Ah..Ah..Ah, look at me, Mi Vida.” He knew you wouldn’t disobey him, you were so attached to him that you wouldn’t dare disobey his orders. Your eyes slowly locked with his once more.

“S..some others..called me useless..they don’t understand why you keep me here,” You say in between hiccups as fat tears continue to roll down your cheeks and Miguel pulls you into his chest, rubbing your back in silence, allowing you to let it all out.

You knew that their words mean nothing, Miguel makes it clear that he only allows the best of the best into the Spider Society. You were consider one of them, you shouldn’t be subjected to this harsh ridicule from people, especially ones that couldn’t even do a mission by themselves without fucking up horribly.

“Mi bebé, tell me who did it, tell me who said it to you..” Miguel wasn’t asking either, he was demanding. He didn’t like seeing his little spider upset, especially by people who were supposed to respect her and treat her as an equal.

“Don’t worry, Your Miggy is going to handle it okay? Why don’t you head on home? I’ll join you after I deal with business here.”

You nodded as he placed a kiss on your forehead before kissing you once more on your lips, whispering soft nothings to you before letting you go.

Miguel watched you leave before his soft grin turned into a menacing glare. He would see personally that this bastards who dared to even speak lowly of you. 

See the thing is, Miguel twisted things a little bit, so you could be right beside him. When that canon event happened in your universe, you were supposed to die.

But he couldn’t let that happen, he’d grown attached to you, often visiting you just to calm down after a stressful day of dealing with Spider Society. He couldn’t let you leave this world like that. So he saved you, which caused a minor shift, instead of your roommate becoming a spider variant, you did. 

He then approached you with joining the spider society, and the rest of it is history..

You were all his, you depended on him and he enjoyed that.

So to have people questioning why she was here, irritated him to the fullest.

Miguel hopped back up to his platform. “Lyla. Tell those three to come to my office.”

You were cuddled up in the shared apartment you had with Miguel in his universe, you rarely went back home to your own universe as you didn’t have many friends there, and you weren’t on the best terms with your parents after they found out you were spiderwoman.

You loved being here with Miguel, it reminded you of the times you would spend together before you became a super hero. 

You jumped slightly, being so lost in your thoughts that your spider senses didn’t even recognized Miguel had come up behind you on the couch. He bent over and kissed your forehead. “Are you okay now?..” He asked and you nodded.

You allowed him to pick you up and hold you in his arms, carrying you to your shared bedroom. He wanted to cuddle with you, especially after the mess he had to clean up after confronting the three spider idiots that dared speak awful of you.

You were like a drug to him, something that calmed him when he was angry, that reminded him of a time before he had to take on such responsibilities.

He placed you on the bed, placing his head on your stomach as the two of you laid there, enjoying the silence and each other’s presence. Miguel wasn’t going to let anyone else threaten the perfect life he had built, he could see you being his wife, being the mother of his children. 

He worked so hard for you to be here with him, he was not going to let some nobodies from random universes get inside of your head and twist your little mind into thinking you were not important.

You were his drug and he would go crazy without you.

While he was laying on your stomach, he was thinking of a way to convince you to leave the spider society, that you were too precious to him, and that the stress you experience wasn't worth it.

He was ready for the conversation, and he was ready to take things into his own hands if you told him no.

Miguel doesn’t see himself as a yandere, he just sees you as his future wife, the love of his life, and someone who he wants to spend his days with.

But he is more of an Protective and Manipulative Yandere, he takes advantage of you naiveness so he could make himself look like your protector.

Oh? You say someone was mean to you? That spider variant will be removed from the spider society.

Someone calls you out your name? Ooo they better hope that they escape before he gets his hands one them.

He puts you on a pedestal, he sees you as his gateway to a life that he so desperately wants once more. Despite knowing what he did to get this.

Miguel loves keeping his eyes on you, as stated before, he had eyes on you everywhere, Lyla wasn’t just his AI assistant she was also yours. Lyla would report back to him on everything that you’ve done throughout the day, who you’ve spoken to and what universe’s you visited.

Miguel wants you to be his perfect wife, and he will do anything and everything so that he can get it. No matter what he has to do, and no matter the cost.

©kieranxvaletine 2023 <3 Hope you all enjoyed!

<3 Hi everyone! I hope you enjoyed this fanfic! I wanted to talk with all of you about something! As you know I'm a nonbinary creator! But recently I have discovered that I am leaning more towards the transmasc territory. I haven't told my parents and I don't think they'll understand (especially since my dad is homophobic-). I am raising money through commissions so I can prepare to get top surgery! and i can be comfortable while i do so! Feel free to share my kofi link, donate or just spread the word to help a creator out! <3 Also! Don't forget you can place requests! Especially since i plan on writing for Pokemon as well <3

Here's My Link~! Thank you! and hope that you all have a good rest of your morning/day/evening/night!

[greenandsorrow]

IF THE MONSTER UNDER YOUR BED NEVER HURT YOU, MAYBE IT WAS THERE TO PROTECT YOU. 🎈

Pennywise bonding with a teen!reader/ platonic

-> I know Ch1 was a bit on the shorter side, but hopefully this one is pleasantly chunky to make up for it! I kept the whole back-and-forth-in-time narration and just know, if something doesn't make perfect sense, it is because the right flashback hasn't been unlocked yet.

-> ⚠️Arachnophobia & cockroaches (on the 1979 part)⚠️

-> Pennywise the Dancing Clown: A trans-dimensional entity that shapeshifts and feeds on the fear -and sometimes the flesh- of kids and animals. IT hibernates for 25 to 27 years, then wakes up for 12 to 16 months, manipulating reality and slipping past the notice of adults.

Listen to: Comfortably Numb by Pink Floyd

~ 2 ~

1979 Derry, Maine

The summer had been full of laughter and the smell of popcorn and cotton candy. But eventually, even the last bits of August's warmth vanished.

September came, and with it, the day he took you.

It was raining as you walked home from what was only your third day of school and you obviously had to drop your book near a sewer. When you bent down to pick it up -fingers brushing against the damp pages- a white-gloved hand gripped your wrist... a hand so large that it made your arm feel like a fragile twig in its grasp.

The next thing you knew? You woke up in a dirty bed, in a place you immediately recognized... As the house on Neibolt Street. Your clothes were still wet and your hair tangled. You were shivering from both hunger and cold. You wanted to cry, but somehow a quiet certainty washed over you -this was Pennywise the Clown's doing and crying wouldn't help.

Your memories from those three months are a scattered mess.

Random moments, fragmented images, bits of conversation. You remember the feelings more than the events themselves -fear, confusion, the gnawing of hunger. You were missing for three months -from September to November- and strangest of all, no one remembers anything from that time. Not even your parents. They struggle to recall anything from that period, as if the whole town forgot you were ever gone.

But you remember. You remember him. And you remember how -against all odds- you formed an unlikely connection with the murderous clown. It's the strangest thing to admit... that you and Pennywise became friends. Or something close to it. There's no clear beginning or end. You knew he was dangerous. You even had dreams of his encounters with other kids, past victims taken without hesitation... and you assumed you'd eventually share their fate.

And yet… for some reason, he kept you alive.

You don't know what made you different in his eyes, but you remember trying everything you could to survive, using all the desperate, unconventional tactics you could think of.

Most of your time was spent in that single room on the upper floor. Leaving it was unthinkable -even going near the door to see if it was locked was off-limits. You can never forget the horrors he put you through, the tricks he used just to draw out your fear. He fed on it, drank it down like a drug. By the time you figured out how to 'speak his language', he was already intoxicated by your terror.

The room would plunge into darkness and you'd hear the sickening rustle of insects in the walls, crawling through the floorboards. Once, a cockroach the size of a cat came skittering toward you, its legs scraping against the floor as it moved and you had nowhere to run, no escape whatsoever. That fear... it's still as clear as if it happened yesterday and not five years ago. The kind of fear that makes you want to vanish, to just stop existing altogether, if it meant escaping the dread. Maybe that was why he kept you alive, letting you drown in despair just to savor the depths of your fear.

One night, you felt the darkness creeping in again, wrapping around the room. By then, even the hint of that darkness was enough to make your heart pound, your throat tighten with a scream. But this time, something inside you resisted. Out of nowhere you spoke, surprising even yourself. You kept your voice steady, holding on to the last scraps of courage you had left.

"Let' play a game for a change."

That sentence... Not only did it save your life... It did more than just that... In the silence that followed, you could feel a shift, as if Pennywise was startled, intrigued. And for the first time, you weren't just his prey. You'd given him a challenge, a reason to hesitate.

You can't pinpoint exactly when and how the game began, but somehow, it turned into a routine between you and him, something to break the silence and stop the nightmares he forced on you. Games of endurance, little moments that made you feel as though you had found a way to speak his twisted language. You never felt safe, but you found moments of calm within the storm -a fragile bond, even if it was born out of fear and survival.

And somehow, through the darkness, you learned how to play along.

At first, the games were simple -things he thought would amuse him, or confuse you. He'd ask you riddles with no answer or have you sit perfectly still in the darkness while he circled around you, close enough that you could feel the cold presence of him, of IT. You'd sit there barely breathing, trying not to flinch as his sniffing nose brushed against your skin. Other times, he'd vanish for hours, leaving you alone with nothing but the fear he'd return at any moment. And sometimes, he'd appear suddenly, his face inches from yours, his glowing eyes watching your every reaction.

But as time went on, you learned how to keep yourself steady. You refused to cry, no matter how badly you wanted to. Instead, you'd lock eyes with him, hiding the tremors running through your body. Slowly, you began to play back. You'd smile when he tried to scare you, a shaky but also defiant smile that told him you weren't giving in. The more you resisted, the more intrigued the monster seemed.

It was another night, his darkness enveloping the room as always, when you spoke up once more -this time a little bolder.

"If I win this game" you whispered "I get to ask a question."

The idea of bargaining with Pennywise felt more than reckless, but you genuinely believed it would pique his childish curiosity. Luckily, you were right. He cocked his enormous head to the side, eyes gleaming with a dangerous interest... and then, he agreed. So, the next time he asked you a riddle, you tried your hardest to solve it. When you finally managed an answer that made him pause, he leaned in close, his smile both pleased and intimidating.

"What do you want to know?" he asked, voice dripping with mockery.

And in that moment, with your heart racing, you asked something simple... "Why me?"

For a split second his expression faltered, his smug smile wavering. But then he regained himself, his grin as sharp as a blade with all the rows of teeth on display... -a predator reasserting dominance. "Because you're more fun than the others!"

And even though it wasn't a real answer, it told you something: he'd chosen you. He decided to keep you with him -in that forsaken house- because you had made yourself valuable to him.

As days turned into weeks, you found more ways to play, more ways to survive. You began to notice things, minor details -how your captor's mood would shift depending on your reactions, how his games became stranger and more complex, almost as if he was testing you, pushing you to find out how much you could take. And though you were still terrified, you also found an odd, unsettling familiarity and comfort in the routine.

In a way, you became his entertainment. But in that game, through the exchange of fear and defiance, you began to feel something else... a quiet sense of control. You were no longer just a victim, you would become something more than just his prey.

You were his game -his fixation- the one he couldn't bear to let go.

There was a childishness to that fixation, a kind of possessiveness that was both stubborn and petulant, like a child refusing to share their toy. Its ageless wisdom knew you were only human -fleeting and fragile- ...but the clown within -with all its childish impulses- clung to you fiercely, not out of love but a selfish and consuming need. You were his and he would not let you go.

1984 Derry, Maine

Lately, when you wake up, you aren't sure if it was a dream or something else. You think you've heard his laugh somewhere, drifting through your bedroom window, or that you've caught a glimpse of that red balloon floating just beyond your line of sight...

It's as if he's still there, waiting for the right moment to step back into your life.

You can't even go about your business without any unpleasant reminders, not when the house on Neibolt Street looms so ominously just by the side of road... The very place you were a prisoner in, not so long ago. Its once-vibrant paint is now peeling. Weeds overrun the pathway leading to the front door and the windows, shrouded in dust and grime, seem to watch you with a knowing gaze. A crooked picket fence surrounds the property, each slap splintered and rough. The house stands as a relic of the past, a place where laughter has long since faded, replaced by sinister whispers.

The only reminder that your time there was real -and not just another vivid dream- are the now withered sunflowers in the abandoned house's backyard, with petals curling inward like they're guarding some secret. You can still picture them the way they once were, bright and strangely out of place amidst all the rot and ruin. A strange gift It had given you that is now an odd echo of something lost and almost tender.

But without you, they couldn't survive. And since the day you parted ways -you can't recall it clearly, but It can- each dry stem and each papery petal became a reminder of how the time you spent together is now just a blurry childhood memory.

Even though it's the beginning of June, the sky today hangs low and gray with the promise of rain, but none of you minded. You've all been through worse than a little weather, than a little summer rain.

Bev is telling a story -something about a dog chasing her on her way home yesterday. She's animated and her voice is alive with mischief, making the boys laugh. You glance over at Bill, who smiles too, though his eyes seem distant. Since Georgie his laughter has become softer, but he is still here carrying on as best he can.

Eddie is walking a little faster than usual, in order to avoid any puddles on the ground, muttering complaints about germs and mud. Richie -in typical fashion- is making a point of splashing through the puddles, a grin plastered on his face while he aims for the ones closest to Eddie.

"Real mature, trashmouth..." Eddie huffs, leaping out of the way as Richie drenches him anyway. Richie just cackles, throwing an arm around Eddie's shoulders.

Ben stays behind, as always, watching everyone with that gentle smile of his. Every so often, he looks over at you and gives a nod, like you both share a silent understanding. Then there is Stan, walking right beside you, his eyes flicking toward the shadows cast by the trees and the buildings. The faintest hint of concern is lingering in his gaze. And just behind you, Mike walks with his usual calm, carrying a worn backpack over one shoulder. He's glancing around too, as if he's looking out for all of you. There's a maturity in Mike's presence, something that makes you feel a little more secure.

It feels good, being with them. Safe even. But something darker is hiding under your steady demeanor.

As the group turns to a corner, you feel your footsteps falter for just a moment. Your mind drifts back to five years ago, to coming home from your third day of school, to how it was raining, to the chilling grip of that white-gloved hand and that knowing, too-wide smile.

Despite the uncomfortable memories you already carry, you feel like there's even more to those three months and it troubles you so much that you can't remember! Still, you snap out off quickly, giving a forced smile to match the others.

But Bev notices.

She nudges you with a playful grin. "Hey, where'd you go just now?"

"Oh, nowhere" you reply lightly. "Just zoned out..."

She looks at you for a second -smart eyes searching- but then she lets it go. You see her pull her jacket tighter around herself as the wind picks up.

Bill also shoots a suspicious glance your way.

You are experiencing a strange mix of nostalgia and resolve these days. Watching as your friends scatter about, laughing and bumping into each other, makes you almost forget... almost.

You hate how, when you are on your own, you catch yourself thinking about him -not in the way you did when you were twelve though, when he was both a fear and a strange comfort. You're seventeen now, too old for childhood monsters.

As you look at your friends, you make a silent promise -to keep growing up, to keep moving forward. But you also know that somewhere deep down, you're still holding on... just in case...

Pennywise's POV 🎈

Somewhere deep within Derry, It stirs. Time doesn't flow the same for the entity... It's all an endless, pulsing hunger.

Pennywise drifts in a half-sleep. His mind slips in and out of dreams of hunger, of playthings. But every so often, his thoughts linger on a small, stubborn memory -you.

The clown hasn't forgotten the girl from all those years ago, the one who looked him in the eye and dared to challenge him. There's a bitter edge to the memory, a childish irritation mixed with a twisted sort of pride. He senses you, a spark amongst all the dull lights that always come and go. The spark has dimmed though, grown older.

That tiny defiant light... It's flickering from somewhere far above. His fingers twitch as if reaching for something that isn't there, something just out of grasp. In the silence, he feels an ache he can't quite name, a hollow that shouldn't exist.

He wakes up.

Pennywise tells himself you're only another meal he's waiting to finish. But something feels different this time, something that gnaws at him. He almost wants to see you again -not just stalk you from afar.

His amber glare is sharp as he considers something. You may try to move on and to forget, but he's patient. He always has been.

Still, you should remember everything. He had taken you, kept you, woven fear into you, put himself into your nightmares. But that delicate and defiant part of you that he once held so close... has faded. Your memories have blurred as you've grown older -and continue doing so!

You are drifting away from the child he once played with.

He doesn't understand why it bothers him. He's supposed to haunt and consume. However, this strange sadness, this fading connection... feels like a loss he can't name.

The memory of you -so small but refusing to cry when he loomed over you- is slipping away like sand between his fingers.

It lets out a low growl, feeling like a child being denied his favorite toy. You're growing up, moving past the games he had made just for you. And worst of all, you have started to forget.

It's as if his laughter and tricks were no more than passing dreams to you, fading away each time you turn your gaze toward the sun.

With an almost petulant tilt of his head, Pennywise glares into the empty dark, like a creature yearning to reclaim what he thinks of as his.

The world feels empty without you here.

He wants you to remember every little thing -to keep him alive in the corners of your mind, not let him drift away like some silly story.

The thought twists something deep in his core, his sharp teeth baring as a low, frustrated whine escapes him.

How could you forget him, when he remembers you so clearly?

masterpost☁️

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[leafsheep]

In light of recent events I offer insight on Mr. Junichiro Tanizaki of Bungo Stray Dogs and Ms. Naomi

Spoilers ahead ofc

First off I’m just going to explain some things about the novel Naomi gets her namesake from: Naomi (1947) by Junichiro Tanizaki

In Naomi, Naomi is a 15 year old waitress who is groomed by Joji, a 28 year old man who fantasizes about molding her into his ideal wife. The novel starts off with Joji behaving almost parentally towards Naomi, but then progresses into a romantic relationship. Throughout the novel, Naomi herself becomes manipulative and the power dynamics of their relationship shifts as Naomi realizes that she can use her appearance to get what she wants and begins to flirt and use her looks to convince Joji to do things she wants. While this occurs Joji continues to delude himself into believing he is the one in control of their relationship.

In Bungo Stray Dogs, many people are put off by the bizarre and taboo nature of the “Tanizaki Siblings” relationship. As they are introduced as siblings and immediately after are shown to have an intimate romantic and sexual relationship. It’s essentially every fans main ick about BSD.

I have always been of the opinion that Naomi likely was not actually Junichiro’s sister, due to the fact that Naomi is a character from Tanizaki’s novel, while Junichiro is of course, based on the author, and creating a sibling relationship between a author and their character would in general just seem odd to me.

Now that we have a confirmation, I’m happy to share my thoughts :)

I will start off by saying, Naomi’s age while it has been debated, is somewhere between 15-17, some say 16-17 because of the age of consent, but I’m saying 15-17, due to the age of Naomi in the novel being 15, and I will approach this with the idea that she is on the younger side of this spectrum.

Junichiro and Naomi’s relationship appears to be that of a younger girl and her protector/guardian. Naomi is often at Junichiro’s side, and when she is harmed or threatened, Junichiro (who’s often fairly even-keeled) becomes incredibly protective and aggressive. Junichiro doesn’t even really act like someone who is in love with Naomi, like someone who loves her, yes, but not someone in love with her. He has some especially weird moments with her, implications of them having done things in private especially near the start of the series where it’s a more lighthearted story overall, but he doesn’t typically act like he’s in love with her (Keep in mind I haven’t read some of the stuff I’m talking about in a while).

On the flip side, Naomi is not ‘in love’ with Junichiro, she’s obsessed with him. She finds any reason to hold onto him or be near him. Naomi appears to have no shame about showing her thoughts about Junichiro, even in public where people believe their siblings, and she doesn’t even listen to Junichiro when he tries to get her to ease off some.

Now, there’s two possible routes to my thinking process, A. Junichiro is also a reflection of Joji, as Naomi was supposedly inspired by Tanizaki’s Sister-in-law who he possibly had an affair with. This could be plausible as Junichiro is visibly compelled by Naomi and Naomi very obviously has used tactics such as playing up her innocence by pouting or flirting to convince him of things, at different points throughout the story. But I don’t really like this idea, as Junichiro is NOT Joji, in fact his ability comes from a completely different work of Tanizaki’s too, so it would be strange to me that Junichiro would be used as a Joji Parallel so much.

The option B. I prefer, which is that Naomi was in some sort of strange situation parallel to Naomi and Joji’s relationship with somebody else when she and Junichiro met. Junichiro, ‘saves’ (whether she needed it or not is up for interpretation) her, and due to this, Naomi experienced Transference and then later developed Limerence.

Transference is when someone redirects feelings towards someone to another person, such as redirecting feelings towards a parent to a mentor. I suspect Naomi redirected the feelings she had towards her groomer to Junichiro when he became her ‘savior’/‘protector’. This also could explain the sibling cover story, if she was being groomed by a sibling or by someone who acted like a sibling to her at first (like how Joji was first a bit more parental to Naomi in the novel), this could make her start saying “he’s like a brother to me” which could evolve into just considering him an older sibling.

Limerence is where someone involuntarily becomes obsessive and attached to someone else (Their LO or Limerent object). People who experience Limerence become obsessive and analyze everything the LO does. They have intrusive thoughts about them, idealize them, and want reciprocation over everything else. I believe that Naomi has made Junichiro her Limerent object- which can also explain why she doesn’t just flirt to try and get him to do what she wants, she also just does it whenever, she’s fixated on him and wants to be around him as much as possible and she needs him to feel the same way.

No matter the option though, Junichiro is supposed to be someone who helps her, and his allowing her to behave in such a way raises some serious red flags. Whether it’s because he just sucks at getting her the help she needs and discouraging her behavior or because it’s in on some way reciprocated, it’s still alarming.

Their relationship is still weird, the fact they aren’t actually related doesn’t change that. But I wanted to share my thoughts on it.

[tobiasdrake]

Genuinely curious what the original plan for Android 16 was.

It's widely known that the plot of the Android arc changed multiple times over the course of the series. 19 and 20 were originally intended to be the arc's true villains. In fact, Trunks calls them out by serial number when he's first giving the infodump about his future.

This isn't a Viz-ism, either. He says "19 and 20" specifically in the original Japanese.

Those two Androids, not 17 and 18, are the ones ravaging his future. However, as is commonly known, Toriyama's editor former editor and currently a trusted friend Kazuhiko Torishima was unimpressed by the Androids' design.

The funny thing is, this isn't the only glaring plot hole that the abrupt shift in plot created. It's easy to pin down 20's flight to his lab as the moment Toriyama switched gears, because he's forced to bring in Bulma to rerail it onto the new story - creating another massive plot hole in the process regarding what Bulma knows.

See. In addition to Trunks clearly identifying 19 and 20 as the Androids, this scene three years in the past had another moment that becomes an issue later on. It's when Bulma says this:

See, Trunks has explained that Dr. Gero is creating the Androids as we speak and will set them upon everyone in three years' time. Bulma suggests having Shenron reveal the location of Gero's lab, and then they can all run off and gank him.

She gets voted down because Goku, Vegeta, and Tenshinhan are all super interested in fighting these Androids.

Goku tries to spin some guff about a moral reservation but he adds that in as an afterthought. His kneejerk is that he wants to fight. It's Krillin who ultimately succeeds in talking Bulma down, via some 4-D chess maneuvers against Vegeta.

Krillin's planning on using the Androids as a common cause to trick Vegeta into becoming one of the gang.

Which. Y'know. Goes off without a hitch, honestly. Krillin is a tactical genius and all-a y'all owe him respect. He manipulated Vegeta straight into that redemption arc.

In any case, this is where Trunks's warning leaves us: In three years' time, Dr. Gero will unleash 19 and 20 who will kill us all. If we knew where he was, we could do something about it, but the will to actually do that isn't there.

So.

Three years later, during the fight with 20, he uses Bulma as a distraction to make his escape. Upon rescuing her, Bulma's able to positively ID 20 as the doctor himself.

More than that, she knows exactly where he lives because he's a famous celebrity whose personal information gets talked about in the scientific community.

She just never brought it up before because no one ever said Dr. Gero was involved in any of this.

This is an even bigger HOOOOOOLY SHIT than the clear identification of the Androids' serial numbers. What Bulma knows flipped between these chapters.

So we make our way to Gero's lab to meet the arc's Actual Villains For Realsies, 17 and 18.

As a sidenote, not to be outdone in jankiness by Goku dropping the Senzu into a pocket dimension earlier, Toei has Dr. Gero's broken-off right hand occasionally regenerate by magic in this scene.

This arc is rough for everyone.

In any case, this brings us to the awakening of 16.

At this point in time, the retcon has finished taking effect; 17 and 18 are now retroactively the Androids from Trunks's future, but 16 is something different. Another Android that Trunks has never heard of before.

Dr. Gero practically pisses himself with terror when the prospect of 16 being awakened comes up.

In the same breath that Toriyama rewrites 17 and 18 to be the True Actual Villains For Realsies of the arc, he also introduces the enigmatic 16. All we know of him is that Gero believed he was a malfunctioning, uncontrollable failure whose awakening would threaten the whole planet.

The Twins question 16 about the true threat he represents.

But all he has to offer in response is this... eerie smile, as if he knows something he isn't sharing.

Answering "Are you going to kill us all" with a smug grin is fucking ominous. Shortly after, we learn that whatever 16's malfunction is, it scared Gero so much that he never made another of the same kind of thing that 16 is again.

What went so horribly wrong that it spooked Gero into trying out human base models and? It's worth noting that while Gero did go back to the mechanical design for 19, he considered the subsequent failures of 17 and 18 following whatever happened with 16 to be sufficient reason to can the Infinite Energy design entirely.

Android 16 is the most formidable design Gero ever created to kill Goku with. And he refused to ever make another like him again.

Current Dragon Ball lore, per interviews with Toriyama, say that he didn't want 16 released because 16 has sentimental value to him. But that doesn't explain why he didn't make other Androids like 16, and these panels themselves are telling a very different story. They're hyping up the mystery of 16 to be the true ultimate threat of this arc - At least, once he finally gets a chance to meet his one true adversary.

However, this doesn't last. Torishima didn't like the Twins as villains either so Cell was created instead. It was later revealed that 16 was very strong and also has a bomb in his chest that would wipe out a small portion of the countryside.

But the nature of this terrifying and enigmatic threat to the planet sure to unfold if 16 awakens, something so terrible that Gero was afraid of ever making an Android like 16 again, would be lost to the cutting room floor.

[king-crawler]

So about the “16 manipulation tactics” part of the video essay, I think you can be a bit generous and stretch it out to 17 because I think king candy also uses his tone of voice as a manipulation tactic!

You could technically lump this under any number of other manipulation tactics (like feigning empathy), but generally when you speak in a very slow, calm tone, it can make your listeners feel more relaxed, trusting, and open to suggestion. 90% of the time king candy’s voice is really goofy and off the wall, even when he’s angry or being evil towards the end of the movie, so him suddenly speaking very calmly and solemnly when he’s talking to Ralph is almost a bit jarring. And obviously just because someone is speaking calmly doesn’t mean they’re inherently being manipulative, but you can use it for manipulative reasons by making yourself seem more persuasive and trustworthy. All that to say I don’t think Ralph would’ve been as receptive if he was still speaking in his trademark silly voice.

No you're so right that's 17 alright 😭 THANK YOU FOR THE ADDITION

[tabl3]

(my version) elite force intelligence ranked & explained

this is on a scale of 10, where 5 is the average

Chase: 10/10 (obligatory duh) intelligence is his whole gimmick. he has access to every bit of knowledge in the world, as well as being a master tactician and strategist, along with being a master in engineering/technology. the only spots that he sometimes lacks in are emotional intelligence and street smarts, but he's literally the smartest being ever created (besides Marcus)

Oliver: 7.5-8ish. he's the second smartest on the team in book smarts sense. he's second in street smarts and is very adept at technology/science. he's also decent with emotional intelligence in most cases (ignore the first part of the series lol) he's also maybe the least dense on the team, meaning picks up social cues easily. all-in-all he's plenty smart in every category which lands him a nice high number

Skylar: 7. while she isn't super book or street smart (specifically the latter) her battle strategy and tactic skills are insanely high (maybe rivaling Chase) she's also extremely technologically advanced because her people are. also going back to 1st point, she's like,,, at least 6 in terms of book smarts

Bree: 6. Bree is decently book and street smart (for being in a basement 15 years) assuming she had 7 classes in high school, I feel like she'd probably get like 4 B's and 3 A's, so above average. she's also innovative because she has to be with her bionics. also her experience gives her a leg up in strategy. she is semi-stunted when it comes to emotional intelligence sometimes, but she's good enough at it

Kaz: 4-4.5. he isn't book smart by any means, or good at strategy (besides "hey, let's blow this up :D) he hates science and technology because it's boring to him. but he's leagues above the others in street smarts terms, plus he is an excellent manipulator lol. he's not totally dumb (much smarter than he thinks) but he is lowest on the team

bonus:

6. Leo: 8. Leo had dogshit grades lmao, but that's because his intelligence lies in engineering and science. this kid is a prodigy. the people who rival his skills in inventing are,,, Chase, Giselle, Douglas, Marcus, Donald,,,, so,,, that says enough. he's also very street smart and emotionally intelligent. shout out the Dooley

7. Adam: 3. so surprising no one, blud is the lowest on the list. he's never needed to be intelligent with the fact that his bionics rarely require strategy and he's super OP. the only ones in the whole series that he couldn't solo w/o help of some kind are Krane, Marcus, Mr. Terror, and the Calderans. says enough p.2. the only person on the good side he couldn't crush is Skylar. (even though Bree and Chase are both smarter, faster, and more skilled than he is, if he had no attachment to them, he'd be able to outlast and destroy them) soooo intelligence isn't his schtick. he is however very well-adjusted emotional intelligence-wise for being in the basement 16 years. he's bad at showing feelings, but picks up others' pretty easily. he's also super perceptive of things no one else notices. he also isn't brain-dead and can understand anything on a basic human level. so he has some plusses, but brother just isn't one that needs smarts.

[keshetchai]

Petty, absurd things I was annoyed by on the internet (specifically the religion subreddit):

Someone (making a islam apologetics defense for the young age of Aisha's marriage and subsequent consummation with Muhammad, by way of trying to point out a cultural hypocrisy in what is or isn't seen as acceptable) pointing to a medieval European princess who got married at the age of six, without any understanding as to what that actually meant in reality to the society of that time. And without any awareness of the history in question. Which is that the six year old princess in question (Isabelle of Valois) was used to formalize and secure diplomatic relations, and then she was moved to a new castle where she was given a court of ladies, tutor, and governess to raise her because she was seen as a child. She didn't even live in the same place as her adult husband (Richard II), and only saw him on chaperoned visits because she was legally and socially not yet old enough for consummation under catholic canon law. Also her Kingly husband died by the time she was 11, he spent the last year of their marriage on a military campaign, and he died before they consummated anything. It was a political and diplomatic contract with no adult sexual or romantic interactions before he died. She remarried at 16, and died in childbirth at 19, which is still really young! But she was NOT being coerced as a 7 year old because that was illegal and would've been a diplomatic nightmare! There was literally no reason to do this. An adult King could (and likely would) be far more likely to avail himself of willing courtesans than he would be to spectacularly offend his newly cemented ally who gave him a queen. Terrible comparison. 0/10. No understanding of medieval European royal politics. Most European medieval royalty who married very young didn't have children until they were at least 18 or 19. Augh. Medievalist annoyances!!!

And THEN someone else tried to criticize the BITE model for identifying authoritarian and manipulative groups (destructive cults) but their criticism was entirely based on like....a) fundamentally failing to understand BITE model must be used in conjunction with the Influence Continuum and b) having zero reading comprehension or critical thinking skills whatsoever to the point where they were trying to say that the BITE model considers prayer in general to be a tactic of authoritarian control and is equivalently scored to outright murder. (It absolutely does not fucking say this!! That's devoid of any understanding of how prayer is even being evaluated specifically within the context of BITE!!!)

and then they tried to be like "people use chat gpt to prove how my religion is a cult and they're wrong, so I invite you to also use chat gpt and see how sports teams and schools could be considered cults!" CHAT GPT IS STUPID AND IM NOT GONNA USE THE BAD ARGUMENT MACHINE TO MAKE ANOTHER BAD ARGUMENT.

They tried to argue baseball teams could be considered cults under the bite model because they "restrict sleep" by having dawn exercise drills during training, and "restrict or control diet" by banning junk food or requiring protein shakes for players. Because fuck the part where we evaluate if there was INFORMED CONSENT regarding the restrictions and considering whether or not these requirements or limitations were outlined in a CONTRACTUAL AGREEMENT FOR AN ATHLETE'S WELLBEING or if they were MISLED, MANIPULATED OR DECEIVED ABOUT THE RULES AND THEIR PURPOSE???

[istanchan]

While waiting for the last episode of 4 minutes to come out I’ve been watching Jes’s drama Love Hurts, and I’m having so much fun.

His character Theerakit is such a whore I love it. I’m not kidding, this is literally his opening scene😋

And to add to it his manipulation tactics rival that of Vegas!! (they match each other so well)

Because tell me why I’ve only watched like 4 episodes and he’s messing with 4 different girls!!

You have Venika, the main lead. Who he’s (spoiler) apparently going to marry and take over her business??? Idk it’s in the plot description. She’s a girl boss CEO and he’s plotting her downfall!! But at the same time she is completely ignoring all the glaring red flags so idk what to tell her.

Then you have Mani, who is Venika’s best friend and Co CEO btw. Who he meets on Tinder and sleeps with her to get more info on their company?? He also gaslights her into believing that it’s her fault that she thought they were more than fuck buddies?!?! Even though they had been talking for months like make it make sense.

Then there’s this influencer/celebrity that likes him and he just buys her flowers just because?? Idk tbh.

I’m not done yet no because you also have Jane! She’s and intern at Venika’s company who he leads on and practically lets her feel him up just to get the insider scoop on the company. She is well aware she is being used but doesn’t care?? Because Jes is so hot and I don’t blame her.

There’s also one more character but I’m only on episode 5 out of 16 and I’m not sure if this character is his aunt or his secret wife, so… idk I’ll update y’all about that. 🤞🏽

Anyways all in all after watching this I’m actually so obsessed with Jes. He’s very main lead worthy and I can see how Pond saw potential for him to be Tyme. I literally feel like screaming every time he’s on screen showing a sliver of skin. I then have to remind myself that I’ve literally seen this man’s bare ass on screen, biting another man’s bare ass mind you.

The show is actually super popular too it looks like, almost all the episodes have around 1 million views on the One31 YouTube channel. I can only imagine how exciting it was for Thai Lakorn watchers to get the news that he would be playing in 4 minutes.

The plot for this show is also plotting. It’s very dramatic and there’s so much going on it’s so fun. I’m also having fun thinking of fic ideas for Theerakit and Vegas because really they’re a match made in heaven and Vegas needs someone to put him in his place!!

I totally recommend watching the show it’s free on the One31 YouTube with subs!