#Framework 16

[sunwukxng]

Hi! So I made a new personal, non-business P_yPal, which also comes with the new nifty ability to create Pools where anyone can chip in and everyone can see the progress. I haven't had a laptop for a year and a half at this point, and that means I've had very limited capability to do edits for my work or even just video editing for my own personal passion projects.

Thankfully, I've finally been able to send in an EAD application (and not get rejected for the most technical bullshit), but until that comes back approved, having no laptop means I can't do my freelance work online.

Ergo, I'm aiming to pool together enough to get a good, future-proof, easily-repairable Framework 16 laptop, so that if a part fails in the future, I can just order and repair that part myself, saving money and not throwing away an otherwise functioning laptop (that cannot be repaired, I've taken it to do so before, only to be told it's toast lol).

Remember, this is completely voluntary, and if you'd like to help me out, you can chip in whatever amount you'd like, and you don't even need to have a PayPal account to do so. Additionally, your name will not be visible publicly to anyone, so you don't have to worry about that either.

I'll have this as my pinned post so you can always find it easily and if you got $5 or more burning a hole in your pocket, and you don't mind chipping in, I'd really appreciate it! Thanks for reading, and I hope you have a wonderful week, friend. :)

OH, and Happy Pride, from your fave chaotic evil black trans icon (your friendly neighbourhood supervillain lol) 💅🏾😃❤️🧡💛💚💙💜💖!!!

[barbreypilled]

also like if ur going to publish derivative fiction im sorry but it has to be good. u actually have to do something interesting with it u can’t just google a bunch of tropes, make the characters do them and call it a day like at that point just do fic prompts I guarantee it will be better in the long run bc u won’t have to inevitably get cancelled for review bombing books that ppl actually had to use their brains for

[techminds256]

Framework Laptop 16 Takes Customization to New Heights

Shop Now prices at $1,799 In a bold move towards unprecedented customization, Framework CEO Nirav Patel passionately describes the company’s latest innovation as a holy grail sought after by many, but achieved by few. With the introduction of the Framework Laptop 16, Patel believes that Framework might be the exception to the rule, offering users the ability to replace and upgrade the entire…

[coulsons-left-arm]

Having a fic plot you wrote be realized irl is insane actually....

[transienturl]

oh hot damn they made an amd 4k touch version of the zephyrus g16.

honestly fascinating comparison between the three devices at the end of the video; I have absolutely no idea which one I'd pick off a shelf but they all look incredible. (the lenovo has a lower-spec option the others lack, notably; if one's not actually a heavy gamer and doesn't have unlimited money it probably wins by default; video on it is here.)

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing References: Character Development

50 Questions ⚜ Backstory ⚜ Character-driven Story

Basics: How to Write a Character ⚜ A Story-Worthy Hero

Basics: Character-Building ⚜ Character Creation

Types of Characters: Key Characters ⚜ Literary Characters ⚜ Flat & Round Characters ⚜ Morally Grey ⚜ Narrators ⚜ Allegorical Characters ⚜ Archetypes ⚜ Stereotypical Characters

Worksheets: Backstory ⚜ Character ⚜ Kill your Characters ⚜ Antagonist; Villain; Fighting ⚜ Change; Adding Action; Conflict ⚜ Character Sketch & Bible ⚜ Protagonist & Antagonist ⚜ Name; Quirks; Flaws; Motivation ⚜ "Interviewing" your Characters ⚜ "Well-Rounded" Character

Personality Traits

5 Personality Traits (OCEAN) ⚜ 16 Personality Traits (16PF)

600+ Personality Traits ⚜ 170 Quirks

East vs. West Personalities ⚜ Trait Theories

Tips/Editing

Character Issues ⚜ Character Tropes for Inspiration

"Strong" Characters ⚜ Unlikable to Likable

Tips from Rick Riordan

Writing Notes

Binge ED ⚜ Hate ⚜ Love ⚜ Identifying Character Descriptions

Childhood Bilingualism ⚜ Children's Dialogue ⚜ On Children

Culture ⚜ Culture: Two Views ⚜ Culture Shock

Dangerousness ⚜ Flaws ⚜ Fantasy Creatures

Emotional Intelligence ⚜ Genius (Giftedness)

Emotions (1) (2) ⚜ Anger ⚜ Fear ⚜ Happiness ⚜ Sadness

Emotional Universals ⚜ External & Internal Journey

Goals & Motivations ⚜ Grammar Development ⚜ Habits

Facial Expressions ⚜ Jargon ⚜ Swearing & Taboo Expressions

Happy/Excited Body Language ⚜ Laughter & Humor

Health ⚜ Frameworks of Health ⚜ Memory

Mutism ⚜ Shyness ⚜ Parenting Styles ⚜ Generations

Psychological Reactions to Unfair Behavior

Rhetoric ⚜ The Rhetorical Triangle ⚜ Logical Fallacies

Thinking ⚜ Thinking Styles ⚜ Thought Distortions

Uncommon Words: Body ⚜ Emotions

Villains ⚜ Voice & Accent

More References: Plot ⚜ World-building ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

[northwestdentalart]

Excellence in Dental Lab Services: Your Partner for Precision and Quality

At NorthwestDentalArts , we take pride in offering the best dental lab services in the industry. With a commitment to precision, innovation, and unmatched quality, we are your trusted partner in crafting exceptional dental solutions.

[coefore]

Looking back on, D-16 always had a violent side he suppressed, but Starscream is the one that planted the idea that violence gets you somewhere, technically tfone's equivalent of Whirl's role in IDW

Sorry this is not going to touch on SS or Whirl at all lol

I will write maybe an unpopular opinion, but it seems to me that many people have latched onto the idea that D16 has "always had a violent side" and I really dislike it. The point of his character was that he was meek, remissive, careful and/or fearful of authority. That's not because of any deeper meaning other than 'I was born in this society and that's just how things are'.

I have seen times where the fact that he is 'violent' in his words with Orion is a smoking gun to point SEE! SEE! THAT'S MEGATRON, but it isn't. Megatron is born out of violence in a world that has completely destroyed the character's, D16, own framework of reference. The seeds of Megatron exist as soon as D16's worldview is completely destroyed: he has lived a lie his entire life, and he has been a good stupid boy the entire time. It is an insulting feeling; it is complacency. So, he stops caring because nothing makes sense anymore. Then, if nothing makes sense anymore, you might as well set it all up in flames, right?

D16's main characteristics are frustration and escapism. His quick turn to violence is freaky to Orion because he has never been violent before.

Coming from a culture that is very vocal and direct with friends/family, the way D16 speaks to Orion is very similar to how I myself talk to my friends and family: I do tell my friends that I might just beat them up for a stupid joke. So do they to me. That's normal, that's not seen as violent at all, it's just cathartic. It's just... whatever really. I didn't even think that could be picked up as a "this guy is violent!" because he doesn't do anything else that is intrinsically violent in how he acts with other people: sure he can be sassy, mistrusting, a bit rude but he is not violent.

The "punch" scene, if analysed, is 1) comedic, as the punch is the literal punchline 2) D16 is doing it to protect Orion from worse repercussions, because he knows how hard he is going to punch his friend lol 3) D16 punches Orion and the guy isn't angry, or upset, or even cares at all about that, implying that's just how they behave with one another. These dudes are two jocks. Jock on jock violence is just communication babyyyy 4) he literally gets punched for his friend lol????

The thing with implying that D16 has always been violent and/or 'evil' (fucking... fucking hate the word... kills character analysis tbh uugh) removes the focus of his character besides him being this guy from that franchise: anyone can become Megatron. Because anyone can be D16.

[aaron04jpg]

Indycar crash course

(For this all I’m just going to use 2024 as an example)

I hope this is helpful feel free to ask any questions!!

1. Teams/drivers

* There is no limit on how few or many drivers can race for a single team.

* Most teams have 3 cars but some have as low as 2 and others have as high as 5

* Drivers don’t have numbers, the cars/teams do (ex: David is car #66 but will change to #41 when he changes to Aj Foyt racing)

* Additional Teams/drivers will come in for the Indy 500

2. Circuits

* circuit types – from road and street circuits to short ovals (one mile or less) and long ovals, often referred to as superspeedways.

* From what I have seen most Indycar drivers like/prefer ovals

3. Chassis and engines

* Dallara is the exclusive chassis supplier for INDYCAR. The chassis is made of carbon fibre, Kevlar and other composites, and weighs approximately 770 kg.

* Chevrolet and Honda are the two engine manufactures in the series and supply competitors

4. Tyres

* Like Formula 1, INDYCAR has a sole tyre supplier. But instead of Pirelli rubber, INDYCAR uses Firestone.

* Firestone provides three types of tyres for road and street courses, and one for ovals. On road and street courses, there is the ‘primary’ black tyre. The ‘alternate’ red tyre is a softer compound that allows for higher speeds but wears faster. A grey sidewall tyre is used in wet weather conditions.

* On ovals, only the ‘primary’ black tyre is used and if the rain falls at this type of circuit, Indy cars will not take to the track.

5. Aeroscreen

* In Formula 1, the teams have the halo. In INDYCAR, the aeroscreen is a ballistic, canopy-like windscreen anchored by titanium framework surrounding the cockpit.

6. Race weekend format

* The format of race weekends changes from race to race, however the most common is that Friday consists of two practice sessions – one in the morning and one in the afternoon.

* On Saturday, there is a morning practice session followed by qualifying in the afternoon.

* Sunday is race day and it begins with a warm-up session at road and street courses. However, on oval circuits there is no warm-up session.

7. Pit Stops

* Unlike Formula 1 where 16 team members assist during a pit-stop, just seven members of each INDYCAR team are permitted go ‘over the wall’ to execute a pit-stop.

* Team members include: four tyre changers, a fueler, a person responsible for the air jack (to raise the car to change the tyres) and an aeroscreen assistant to clean or pull a ‘tear-off’ from screen to help the driver’s vision.

* Each crew member is required wear a firesuit and helmet for protection.

* Indy cars refuel at each stop and drivers pit depending on the length of the track. In the 10 seconds it takes to fuel the car, all four tyres are changed.

8. Point scoring

* Points are awarded for all finishing positions in INDYCAR.

* First – 50 points, second – 40, third – 35, fourth – 32, fifth – 30, sixth – 28, and so on, going down to just five points for the lowest finishing position in the field.

* Bonus points are awarded for: pole position – 1 point, leading at least one race lap – 1 point, and most race laps led – 2 points.

* For the Indianapolis 500 and the final race of the season, points are doubled in those races.

TEAMS (as of end 2024 season)

1. AJ Foyt Racing

* 14 Santino Ferrucci

* 41 Sting Ray Robb

2. Andretti Global

* 26 Colton Herta

* 27 Kyle Kirkwood (logan’s friend !!)

* 28 Marcus Ericsson

3. Arrow McLaren

* 5 Pato O’Ward (McLaren reserve driver)

* 7 Alex Rossi

* 6 Nolan Siegel

4. Chip Ganassi Racing

* 8 Linus Lundqvist

* 9 Scott Dixon

* 10 Álex Paluo Montalbo

* 4 Kyffin Simpson

5. Dale Coyne Racing

* 51 Katherine Legge

* 18 Jack Harvey

6. Ed Carpenter Racing

* 20 Christian Rasmussen

* 20 Ed Carpenter (ovals only)

* 21 Rinus Veekay

7. Juncos Hollinger Racing

* 77 Romain Grosjean

* 78 Conor Daly

8. Meyer Shank Racing

* 66 David Malukas

* 60 Felix Rosenqvist

9. Rahal Letterman Lanigan Racing

* 15 Graham Rahal

* 45 Christian Lundgaard

* 30 Pietro Fittipaldi

10. Team Penske

* 2 Josef Newgarden

* 3 Scott McLaughlin (twt icon)

[mindswriters]

war of hearts ✮ civil war!au

pairing: stark!reader x bucky barnes (it’s slow burn! they barely talk pls don’t kll me) | + bigbrother!tony and platonicbf!steve

summary: y/n is tony stark’s younger sister, and best friend’s with steve rogers. when the sokovia accords get on table, she has to choose between the two people she loves the most. except, there’s some kind of magnetic string, called bucky barnes, making her choice pend to one side

word count: 7.8k

A/N: what a long come back isn’t it? anyways, I’m unemployed now and it brings me back to my alternative reality of creating scenarios. i also decided to re-watch all the mcu and guess what it’s bucky barnes fever all over again. watched civil war this week, thought about this one. hope you enjoy it!

important! this piece is a collaboration between me and my friend chat gpt. just so you know that i came up with the scenes, wrote it, but also used ai to improve and review the work.

════════════════════════════════════════════

The Sokovia Accords were supposed to bring order to chaos — a framework to keep the Avengers accountable. But for you, Y/n Stark, it felt like a betrayal. You understood Tony’s reasons — his guilt, his desire to control the power that had caused so much destruction — but you couldn’t accept the cost: surrendering freedom and personal judgment to governments that often failed the people they were supposed to protect. More than that, knowing Bucky’s past — the pain he endured as the Winter Soldier and the person he was beneath — made it impossible for you to side with Tony’s call for control and punishment. When the Accords split the team, you stood firmly with Steve, believing that some battles can’t be sanctioned or regulated. That decision tore you apart from Tony, your older brother, who saw your refusal as reckless and personal defiance. Now, after Berlin’s battlefield became the symbol of that fracture, you find yourself in the cold Siberian wasteland, caught between loyalty to your family and to the ideals you fight for.

When your parents died, you were just a child — too young to understand the world they left behind. Tony, as your older brother, stepped in to fill that void, becoming both protector and guardian. As he grew into the role of Iron Man, he fiercely tried to keep you away from the dangers that came with his double life. But your spirit was too strong to be confined. You found your own path, training with Steve Rogers and developing your skills and technology to stand on your own. Through Steve, you learned about Bucky Barnes — a man with a troubled past, yet someone you felt drawn to protect. Over time, you became an essential part of the Avengers family, not just by blood, but through loyalty, courage, and the fierce determination to fight for what you believe in.

After Berlin, everything was fractured. You should’ve been locked away with the others, but you weren’t. You found a way to prove that you and Steve were right — that someone was orchestrating everything from the shadows. You showed Tony the pieces: the inconsistencies, the manipulation, the name Zemo. Maybe it was the way you said it, maybe it was the last thread of trust he still had in you — but he listened. He got you out, and together, you convinced him to go to Siberia, not to fight, but to help.

But the cold in Siberia isn't just in the air — it’s in your chest, tightening with every breath as you step into the facility. The space is dim, sterile, haunted by the ghosts of what happened there. You can feel it in your bones: this is where everything changes. Zemo speaks with a calmness that unsettles you, leading the four of you deeper into the past than anyone was ready to go. Then, the footage begins — December 16, 1991. The mission. You don't want to look, but you can’t tear your eyes away. There’s the crash, the stolen serum, and then… the unmistakable brutality. Your heart sinks as you watch the man beside you — Bucky — become the weapon that killed your parents. It's a storm inside your chest: grief, disbelief, the return of a loss you thought you had buried long ago. Your eyes flicker between three people: Tony, whose hands are already curling into fists; Steve, who refuses to meet your gaze; and Bucky, frozen in silence, his jaw tight with shame. Every part of you is screaming. But you don't move. Not yet.

Silence settles like dust after the video stops, thick and suffocating. You hear Tony’s voice first — low, disbelieving.

“Did you know?”

Steve hesitates. His silence is an answer in itself.

“I didn’t know it was him,” he says finally.

Tony’s voice cracks. “Don’t bullshit me, Rogers. Did you know?”

You feel your breath hitch, a pulse pounding in your ears. Steve closes his eyes. “Yes.”

And just like that, the floor shifts beneath your feet.

You step back instinctively, watching the fury rise behind Tony’s eyes. It’s not just betrayal — it’s heartbreak, it’s twenty-five years of unanswered questions detonating all at once.

“He killed my mom,” Tony says, barely above a whisper, and you flinch.

You want to speak — to say he didn’t have a choice, to remind Tony of who Bucky is now, not who he was made to be — but the words catch in your throat.

Tony’s gaze flicks to you, just for a second, and in it you see something that breaks you more than the video: he expected you to stand with him.

And you can’t. Not against Bucky. Not like this.

Tony turns fully to you, his eyes desperate now — not with confusion, but with expectation. You saw it too, his stare seems to scream. He killed them. Say something. Do something.

You meet his gaze. And all the fire in him crashes against the ocean in your eyes. There's no anger in you — only sorrow, spilling over in silent tears that blur the edges of the room. You shake your head, barely, but it’s enough.

Tony’s chest rises with a sharp inhale, as if your silence alone had struck him.

“Y/n, don’t you dare—”

But he doesn’t finish. He lunges.

You don’t think. You move, stepping between him and Bucky like your body was built for this — like your place has always been in the middle of everything tearing itself apart. Your hands hit Tony’s chest, holding him back with more force than you knew you had.

“Stop,” you breathe. “Please.”

His eyes are blazing now. “He murdered our parents.”

“No,” you say, voice trembling. “He didn’t. That wasn’t him — that was the thing they turned him into. He didn’t have a choice, Tony.”

He looks at you like he doesn’t recognize you anymore. “Is that really what you believe? After what you just saw?”

“I felt that pain too. Every second of it. But I won’t destroy someone who’s already spent a lifetime paying for a crime he didn’t choose to commit.”

Tony laughs — a short, bitter sound. “So you’re siding with him. With the guy who killed your mother.”

Your voice cracks. “I’m not siding with anyone… I’m trying to keep us from losing what’s left.”

“You already lost me.” Tony's words felt like a twisting knife in your chest.

Tony doesn’t wait for another word. With a twist and a push, he slips past your grasp, rage propelling him straight toward Bucky.

“Tony, no!” you cry out, reaching for him, but he’s already swinging.

Bucky barely manages to deflect the first blow — the second lands squarely, sending him reeling. The sound of the impact echoes through the bunker, and something inside you folds.

You stand there, paralyzed. Torn. Watching your brother, burning with grief, throw himself against the man you’ve been fighting beside — the man who never asked for your trust, but who somehow earned it anyway.

Your heart pounds, and for a second, the weight of it all threatens to crush you.

You should stop them. You should do something. But it’s easier to run. And you hate yourself for knowing that.

Your breath hitches as you turn your head — and then you see him.

Zemo.

He lingers by the doorway, quiet and composed, with a ghost of a smile curling his lips. He watches the chaos like a man admiring his own masterpiece.

This is what he wanted.

And suddenly, the fog lifts.

He made you and Tony watch that video.

He manipulated all of you into this.

And maybe it’s cowardice, but going after him is easier than choosing between two people you love.

Fighting Zemo won’t leave scars on your family. Or so you tell yourself.

Steve notices the shift in your face — the way your tears harden into something sharper. He steps toward you cautiously, like he already knows.

You wipe your cheek roughly and meet his gaze. “You take care of them,” you murmur, voice steady despite the ache behind it. “I can’t stop Tony… but I can stop the man who caused this.”

Steve hesitates, but only for a beat. “Y/n—”

“I know,” you whisper through gritted teeth. “I know this won’t fix it.”

You glance back at the fight, at Tony — your brother — and the guilt nearly breaks you again.

You do feel like you’re betraying him. And you hate that it feels this way, but the past few days changed you. You fought beside Bucky. You saw who he really is — not the man in the video. And what’s worse… you felt something. A connection. One you didn’t expect. One you can’t ignore. And right now, you just need to get away from all of it — before your heart splits down the middle.

“Just keep them alive, both,” you say finally. “Please.”

Steve searches your eyes. And then, with a quiet nod, he lets you go.

So, you run. Not just toward vengeance — but away from the pain of choosing sides. You’re not proud of it, but it’s the only way you know how to keep breathing.

You don’t chase him right away, you watch. From the edge of the corridor, you track his figure as it fades into the white horizon—small, deliberate steps against the vast emptiness of snow and rock. He doesn’t run. Of course he doesn’t. He’s not that kind of coward. The icy wind bites at your face as you finally step out into the open. No trees. No shelter. Just you, him, and the silence of everything he shattered.

You catch up fast. Your boots scrape over rock, and before he can turn, you crash into him—shoulder first, a sharp collision that knocks him off balance. He stumbles, slides across the snow. But he recovers quickly, turning just as you strike again. He blocks. Dodges. Counters with surprising strength. He’s trained—more than you expected.

Blow after blow, you fight, fists cracking against arms, your breath ragged in the cold. It's messy, brutal, driven by instinct and pain. The silence breaks when you finally land a punch to his jaw that makes him reel back, lip bloodied.

“You destroyed my family,” you hiss. “Why?”

He spits blood into the snow, barely flinching. “Because they were false.”

You go at him again, but he ducks, sweeping your legs. You hit the ground hard, snow burning your skin, but you don’t stop. You’re already on your feet, chest heaving.

“You tore us apart,” you growl. “Steve, Tony, me, Bucky—what did you got?”

He stares at you calmly, that maddening composure still in place.

“Peace,” he says simply. “Sometimes, the world needs fire before it can rebuild.”

You lunge, slamming him back against a jagged rock. “That’s not peace. That’s ruin.”

“Ruins are honest,” he replies, almost softly.

Your fist trembles mid-air as you hold your knife. You could end it now. You want to. But there’s something behind your anger—something heavier.

“You think this was justice?” your voice cracks. “It was just vengeance.”

Zemo blinks slowly, lips parting into the faintest ghost of a smile. “Exactly.”

Your knuckles are scraped, raw. Blood from his face stains your glove, but your weapon stays raised.

He’s beneath you now—back pressed to the cold, uneven rock, breath shallow but steady. One strike. That’s all it would take. One final blow to end this. He doesn’t fight back. Doesn’t beg. He just looks at you, waiting. Accepting.

Your heart hammers in your chest, louder than the wind howling across the open field. Louder than your brother’s voice echoing in your memory. Louder than Bucky calling your name, back in that bunker before you ran away.

You tighten your grip, vision swimming. And yet, you still haven’t moved.

“Y/n Stark.”

The voice doesn’t come from Zemo. It cuts through the wind with clarity and weight, composed and firm.

You turn, startled, and see him. Prince T’Challa steps forward through the snow, posture tall, eyes calm—but burning with the same pain you carry.

“Vengeance has consumed you.” He looks at you, then to Zemo. “It is consuming them. I will not let it consume me.”

His words strike like a crack in your armor. You look back at Zemo. His face is bruised and bloodied, but his expression doesn’t change. He remains still beneath you, letting the moment stretch in silence. Your arm trembles.

“…Why?” Your voice is barely a whisper. Tired. Fractured. “Why did you do this?”

Zemo breathes in through his nose, slow and deliberate, as if the answer isn’t simple—but unavoidable.

“Sokovia.” His eyes don’t leave yours. “My family was buried beneath the rubble while your ‘heroes’ flew away, arguing about whose fault it was.”

You feel the blow of those words, dull and deep.

“I buried them with my own hands. My wife. My son. My father.” His voice falters for a second. Then steadies. “I knew I couldn’t kill them. Not all of them. But if I could make them kill each other… the empire would collapse from within.”

He finally looks away, into the white distance.

“An empire that no man should ever have the power to build.”

You close your eyes. He didn’t tried to kill your family. He made you watch them unravel.

“I can’t forgive you,” you whisper, with a hint of guilty for his family.

“I know,” he replies. “I don’t want you to.”

T’Challa steps forward, placing a firm hand on your shoulder. “Come. Let justice do what vengeance cannot.”

And you nod—because even if your heart is still fractured, it’s beating steady again. The wind stills, like the world itself has paused to let you breathe. You sit back on your heels, fists lowering at last. Zemo doesn’t move. Neither does T’Challa. Silence falls like snow — thick, cold, and heavy.

Then it comes. Distant at first. Muffled. The echo of metal clashing against metal, grunts of effort, blasts of repulsors cutting through stone and steel. You turn your head toward the sound — you can see it now: pulses of light flaring against the grey sky, like lightning trapped in a cage. Stark’s repulsors.

Your stomach twists. Steve. Bucky.

You rise slowly to your feet, legs unsteady, and glance at T’Challa beside you. He stands tall, hands behind his back, gaze locked on Zemo — no vengeance, only justice in his posture.

“What will you do with him?” you ask, your voice low but sure.

He meets your eyes. “He will answer for his crimes. I will hand him over to Ross.”

There’s no hesitation in his words, only principle. Then he softens, just enough.

“You still have time. Go to your fam.”

You look toward the glow on the ridge again.

A war is happening inside that mountain — a war between the two people you love most. And all you can think about is how it got this far.

But you nod, just once. Then you run. You follow the trail of light and noise, your heartbeat growing louder than the crunch of your boots against the frozen earth. The bunker looms behind you like a carcass. Ahead, only silence—and then, movement.

Steve. He steps into view, his silhouette staggering beneath the weight of the man in his arms.

Bucky.

Your breath catches. For a second, you don't move. Can't move. The light from the open structure glints off torn metal and darkened fabric. Where his arm should be—

Nothing.

You run. You don’t even feel your legs move, don’t hear the panicked sound that leaves your lips until you’re stopping in front of them.

“No—no, no, no—” You reach for Bucky’s face, his wrist, his chest. Anything.

He’s pale. Covered in soot and blood. His breathing is shallow—almost imperceptible. His eyes are closed. Your fingers shake as you press against the side of his neck.

You wait. Wait. There it is. A pulse.

“He’s alive,” Steve says gently, his voice ragged, like it’s the last bit of strength he has.

But there’s something behind it—grief, anger, guilt. Everything you feel, reflected right back at you. Your gaze lifts to meet his, his eyes are rimmed red, jaw clenched with something he can’t say out loud. And then, Steve looks at you with something heavier than sorrow. You swallow hard.

“Where's Tony?” you ask, your voice barely above a worried whisper. “He… your shield?”

Steve doesn’t answer. Instead, he looks back down at Bucky, then up at you again—like he’s choosing his words carefully.

“He’s not thinking straight,” he says. “I could stop him just for now. Maybe you still can.”

You blink, confused. Hurt. “Why would he listen to me?”

“Because you are still his little sister.” Steve’s words land like stone.

He adjusts Bucky in his arms again and balances themselves with effort.

“I’ll keep him safe,” he promises. “And I’ll talk to you as soon as I can. But right now…”

He meets your eyes, firm.

“Tony needs you.”

Steve stands steady, carrying Bucky carefully in his arms as they intend to move towards the Quinjet. The cold air bites, but your focus is entirely on Bucky’s face—bruised, bloodied, but breathing.

You step closer, gently brushing a lock of hair from his forehead. Your voice barely rises above a whisper, trembling with relief: “You’re okay.”

Bucky doesn’t respond, but the small rise and fall of his chest tells you everything you need to know. You shift your gaze to Steve, who meets your eyes with something heavier than sorrow—gratitude, trust, and a quiet admiration. Your glance holds his for a heartbeat, a silent exchange of understanding and strength.

"Thank you" that's the least you could say.

With that, you turn sharply and start running toward where you know you'd find Tony, heart pounding—not knowing what you’ll see, but knowing you have to get him.

You follow the trail of light through the snow and concrete, breath burning in your throat as your feet slam against the cold ground. The metallic echo of your steps fades beneath the hum of repulsors powering down.

Then you see him.

Tony sits on the floor near the wreckage of what used to be part of the bunker wall, helmet off, broken, elbows on his knees, staring down at his own shaking hands. The arc reactor flickers softly in the gloom. His face is torn open—split lip, brow swollen, blood trailing from the corner of his mouth. He looks like a man who has finally reached the bottom of everything.

You slow your steps. “Tony…”

His head snaps up like he forgot he wasn’t alone. His eyes are bloodshot, red-rimmed, and exhausted. For a second, he doesn’t say anything. Just looks at you like he’s not sure whether to collapse into your arms or push you away again.

“I couldn't do any other way,” he finally breathes, voice cracked. “He killed our parents.”

You nod, tears brimming again. “I know.”

He looks at you for a long time—really looks. There’s a tremble in his jaw, and then, like all the anger that had held him together just burnt out, he looks away again. “And you protected him.”

The words hit you like a slap, even though they’re soft, almost whispered.

“I told you it wasn't him. And I protected you, too,” you say edged, trying hard to control your own emotions. “From doing something you’d never come back from.”

He lets out a shaky sigh—bitter and hollow. “Then why do I still feel like I lost everything?”

You kneel beside him, not touching him yet. “Because you did, and so did I. But we’re still here. And we still got each other”

There’s a long pause. You let it breathe. Ignoring the tremble in your chin, and the tears stinging your eyes. Carefully, you rest your hand over his, grounding both of you in something real.

“We gotta go home” you say.

Tony doesn’t respond right away. His fingers twitch beneath yours, but he doesn’t pull away.

You lean in closer, softer now. “I know you don’t understand how I could’ve stood in your way. And maybe you won’t. But… I made a choice, Tony. And I’ll carry it. I'm not a child anymore”

Finally, he turns his hand over, wrapping his fingers around yours like he’s afraid to let go.

══════════════════════════════════════════════════

The days that followed blurred into a slow return to something resembling normal. You and Tony flew back to the compound in silence, the tension between you heavy but softened by exhaustion. Healing wasn’t immediate—some days you spoke like nothing ever happened, sharing breakfast and old jokes; other days, you couldn’t look at each other without remembering everything that had broken between you. Still, piece by piece, your bond began to mend.

Tony pulled every string he had to keep you out of prison. Unlike the others who sided with Steve, you were granted house arrest—confined to the compound, under strict surveillance, your every movement monitored. It should’ve felt like a victory, but it didn’t. The guilt gnawed at you—knowing Sam, Wanda, Clint and Scott were locked away while you walked free. That guilt became your fuel. Quietly, you slipped Steve fragments of intel, just enough to help him break into the Raft and free the others. You know the risks. So did Tony.

But he never stopped you.

He never asked where the encrypted messages went. Never questioned why you stayed up late with the comms encrypted. He didn’t even stop you from calling Steve late at night, when the silence felt too loud and your chest ached with everything unsaid.

Then came the morning you didn’t show up for breakfast.

Tony waited for a good ten minutes, which was already generous for someone like him. The toast went cold. He sighed, picked up your mug and went looking for you, grumbling something about dramatic sleeping habits and time zones.

He found your room quiet. Too quiet. When he opened the door, he froze. There, on your desk, your tracking bracelet—still blinking red—was locked tight around the abdomen of a massive ant.

“…Scott,” Tony muttered, blinking. “You absolute tiny bastard.”

He looked to the bed, where a folded note rested on your pillow. His fingers hovered over it for a moment before he picked it up, already dreading whatever sentimental nonsense you had left behind.

“Had to go on a little trip. Be kind to the ant, it has your name too. I love you. I’ll be back soon.”

Tony stared at the handwriting for a few seconds. Then he let out a single, sharp laugh, more disbelief than amusement. He dropped the note back onto the bed and ran a hand through his hair.

“Well played, Rogers. Kidnapping my sister, real subtle.” He stood there a moment longer, torn between frustration and admiration, before walking out of the room—still muttering under his breath.

══════════════════════════════════════════════════

The ship flew in silence, cutting through the night sky like a shadow. The sleek lines of Wakandan technology made almost no noise — just a soft hum filled the air, echoing the restrained breath in your chest.

Steve sat across the cabin, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the window — but you knew he wasn’t really seeing the clouds. Since boarding, few words have been exchanged. And none were really needed. He had already told you the essentials: T’Challa watched. He listened. He understood. And unlike what many would’ve done in his place, the king chose compassion. He chose to protect Bucky. And Bucky chose to trust them. This ship was another gift — or maybe a promise. A quiet gesture from someone who also knew what it was to lose, but refused to let hatred shape his next steps.

You leaned your head back and closed your eyes for a moment, but rest didn’t come. A part of you was still back there — in the frozen bunker, on the ground stained by the fury of someone you loved. The image of Tony’s face — wounded more in heart than armor — still weighed like lead in your chest.

“You okay?” — Steve’s voice came soft, almost a whisper, but clear enough to pull you back.

You nodded, eyes still shut. “I am.”

A pause. “Or at least… I will be.”

He didn’t push. Steve never did. He just looked at you with that gentle, loyal kind of expression — the same one he had when he took your hand and pulled you out of the compound in the middle of the night, promising it would be worth it.

“Will Bucky be safe?” — you asked, almost afraid of the answer.

Steve took a deep breath. “He will. They have the resources. The tech. And he wants this, Y/n. He wants peace. He wants... to be himself again.”

You didn’t reply right away. Your throat tightened, and everything inside you felt like it was rearranging — memories, loyalty, pain, love. An emotional mess carefully boxed into a floating piece of metal in the sky.

You leaned forward, resting your elbows on your knees. “Thank you, Steve... for having our backs.”

He gave a soft smile — one of those small, sincere ones. “Always.”

The ship kept moving forward, cutting through the dark. And for a few minutes, you let the silence become a form of comfort.

You were going to see him. Bucky. And a part of you — the part that spent so long trying not to feel — finally let a small hope slip through the cracks.

The silence stretched between you for a while, peaceful and full of unspoken things. You hadn’t moved from your seat, but your fingers played absentmindedly with the hem of your sleeve — something restless stirring just beneath the surface.

Steve shifted a little, his voice breaking the quiet with gentle curiosity.

“So…” he started, a trace of a smile in his tone. “When did it happen?”

You looked up, brow furrowed. “When did what happen?”

He tilted his head, a soft grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “That… invisible magnet between you and Bucky. I’ve seen it for a while now. The way you look at him. The way he looks at you.”

You exhaled through your nose, not quite a laugh, not quite a sigh.

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “I think it was always there. Since the day on the bridge. Like something we didn’t notice until it was too loud to ignore.”

Steve nodded, the smile fading into something softer — more earnest.

“I’m glad he found you. That he let someone in. After everything… I thought it would take a miracle.”

You met his gaze, surprised by the emotion in his voice.

“He trusted you,” he said, more quietly now. “Aside from me, you were the only person he didn’t flinch away from. The only one he willingly talked to after… everything.”

You felt your throat tighten, and your voice came out quieter than before.

“He didn’t have to explain me anything. I just… saw him. And I knew he wasn’t the monster they said he was.”

Steve smiled again, this time with a flicker of something like pride. “You believed in him when it mattered most. You never doubted.”

You shrugged, glancing toward the window. “I doubted myself more than I ever doubted him.”

There was a beat of silence, then Steve leaned back in his seat, his tone suddenly lighter — teasing.

“You know…” he said, “back in the day — I mean way back — before I got frozen, Peggy gave me a goodbye kiss. She didn’t know it would be goodbye, not really. But… she still kissed me.”

You raised an eyebrow, already catching where this was going.

Steve gave you a crooked grin.

“I’m just saying — if we went through all the trouble of breaking you out of house arrest, sneaking past Stark’s security systems, and borrowing a ship from the King of Wakanda… Bucky deserves a goodbye kiss. Don’t you think?”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t stop the smile tugging at your lips.

“He’s not going anywhere.”

Steve shrugged, grinning.

“Neither was I.”

You laughed, quietly — the kind that settles into your chest and stays there, warm and a little nervous.

"I'm not giving Bucky a goodbye kiss, not when I know that I'll be seeing him again." You say, forcing yourself to sound optimistic, even when you're a little scared about Bucky's future.

══════════════════════════════════════════════════

The sun was just beginning to rise over Wakanda when the ship touched down. The soft golden light filtered through the tall grasses and sleek towers, casting the world in a warm hue — as if the land itself welcomed peace after so much war. You stepped out behind Steve, blinking against the brightness, the air different here — lighter, cleaner, but buzzing with quiet power.

Waiting for you was T’Challa, dressed in dark robes, arms calmly folded behind his back. He looked at you both not with suspicion, but with that steady regal grace — the kind of presence that made you straighten your posture without realizing it.

“Captain Rogers,” he greeted first. Then his gaze shifted to you. “Miss Stark.”

You gave a small nod, unsure if words would come out right now.

“We’re grateful,” Steve said. “More than I can express.”

T’Challa simply inclined his head. “He is safe. Healing. But the path forward will still be long.” His gaze flickered to you for a second. “For all of you.”

You didn’t respond — just swallowed and nodded again, because your chest was already tight.

“Come,” T’Challa said. “He’s waiting.”

The corridors of the Wakandan compound were impossibly quiet. Everything smelled like steel and earth and the subtle scent of something growing. It felt removed from the world — like a place outside of time. You followed Steve through a pair of sliding doors, your footsteps barely audible over the hum of the hall. The closer you got, the more your heart pounded — not in fear, but something deeper. Something ancient. Recognition.

Steve stopped just before a final door. He turned to you, like he sensed your hesitation in coming with him.

"You should go first. He might wanna talk to you alone." You offer him a concerned smile, but Steve knew you well enough to know that you were actually nervous to be seeing Bucky again.

“Wait here then.” He said simply, looking to the glass wall, where you could see through, and spot Bucky's figure on the other room.

You nodded. He gave you a small smile, then stepped inside alone.

Through the glass wall, you saw him approach Bucky — dressed in loose, simple clothes. His hair was longer now, brushed back behind his ears. He looked calm, almost still, as he turned toward Steve. You couldn’t hear what was said, but the expression that crossed Bucky’s face at the sight of his friend was unmistakable — relief and something like home.

They spoke briefly. Bucky’s body shifted, sharing a hug with Steve that made you smile to yourself. Steve kept a grip on his friend's shoulder, and as he pointed to the door, you took it as your sign to come in.

He indeed gestured toward you, lips moving around words you couldn’t quite hear — but you felt them in your bones.

"There's someone else I thought you'd like to see."

You step into the room, and for a moment, everything feels too bright. The space is open, the large windows filling it with sunlight that dances along the polished floor. But all you see is him — standing close to Steve, illuminated by the sunrays from the landscape behind them. His eyes fixed on you the second you enter.

You stop just inside the threshold, suddenly unsure of your body, your expression — of anything, really.

Bucky doesn’t move at first. Neither do you.

“Hi.” You say, breaking the silence with a soft tone, like he’s trying not to scare a wounded animal.

"Hey," Bucky responds, there's a glimpse of something heavy is his tone. Guilt. Appreciation. Relief.

He turns to you, but still hesitates on getting too close. "Wasn't you supposed to be... uhm, in prison?" He frowns, cleaning his throat.

You raised an eyebrow, feigning offense. "Wow. That’s the first thing you say to me?"

Bucky widened his eyes and Steve chuckled under his breath.

You take a step closer, placing yourself beside Steve. “Technically, I was under house arrest. Tony pulled some strings with the government.”

Bucky's eyes narrowed. “He’s not hating you?”

“Of course not,” Steve shook his head. “She got the fancy kind of punishment. Electronic monitor, surveillance, no going outside the compound.”

You shrugged. “It wasn’t that bad. Except for the part where I couldn’t even get decent coffee.”

Steve tilted his head, that teasing glint returning to his eyes. “Which is why I may have�� borrowed one of Scott’s ants.”

Bucky blinked. “One of his ants?”

You nodded, trying not to grin. “A very big one. It handled the ankle monitor part.”

“She didn’t even hesitate,” Steve added, smirking. “I said, ‘Want to leave for a trip?’ and she was already halfway out the window.”

You nudged Steve lightly with your foot. “You made it sound very heroic. I thought we were going to do something cool, not sneak onto a spaceship like teenagers past curfew.”

“Well,” Steve shrugged, grinning now, “you wouldn't have exactly say no to that.”

Bucky huffed a short laugh, shaking his head. “You two are unbelievable.”

You smiled and leaned forward, eyes fixed on him. “And yet… here we are.”

For a moment, the warmth between the three of you made the world outside the lab feel distant — just three people, trying to hold onto a piece of normal.

Steve gives the two of you a lingering glance. There’s something in his posture — a careful blend of protectiveness and quiet encouragement — before he steps toward the door.

“I’ll give you two a minute,” he says gently, and with a nod, he leaves.

The silence stretches as the door hisses shut behind him. You look at Bucky. He’s standing practically in the same position since you first saw him. His right hand gripping his waist, looking away at the full view windows, as if admiring Wakanda for the first time. His hair brushed back revealed more of his face than you’re used to seeing. There are dark circles under his eyes, but they don't take away from the clarity in them — eyes no longer haunted, just... tired.

You take a cautious step forward, and then another. “How... how have things been here?”

His voice is low, and still carries the weight of something raw. “Quiet. Safe. It’s... a strange kind of peace.”

You nod, arms crossing in front of your chest — a small shield against the emotions threatening to rise again. “And what happens now?”

Bucky shrugs, eyes finally meeting yours. “Shuri says they can help... take it all apart. The programming. The conditioning. I told them to do it. We’re trying to... unmake the Winter Soldier, I guess.”

You nod. “Sounds like something that should’ve happened a long time ago.”

He doesn’t answer that. And silence settles again — heavier this time.

You feel it hanging between you. Everything unsaid. Everything still bleeding under the surface.

Then, finally, he speaks. Quiet. Honest.

“I’m sorry.”

Your heart stumbles. He continues before you can respond.

“For your parents. For what happened with Tony. For dragging you into all of this. I... I still don’t know how you stood by me after all that.” His voice cracks at the edges, not from weakness, but from shame. Real, quiet shame.

You take a breath, step closer, letting the tip of your boots touch his feet, searching his eyes.

“I never saw the Winter Soldier, Bucky,” you say softly. “I only saw you. I stood by you. And I’m still here.”

He blinks, and for a second, his composure slips. He looks at you like he’s still not sure he can trust it — trust you — even though everything about you has been screaming that he can.

Bucky doesn’t look away this time — but there’s hesitation in his voice when he speaks.

“Why?” He swallows hard. “Why did you choose us… after everything?”

You exhale slowly, trying to find the words. “It wasn’t a choice, not really. It just… happened.”

He tilts his head slightly, searching your face.

“That thing between us,” you continue, voice softer now, “it’s always been there. Even when it shouldn’t have. Even when we barely knew each other.”

Bucky’s eyes drop to the floor for a second, like he’s hiding behind the thought before admitting it.

“I felt it too,” he says. “Like something pulling at me.”

You smile, small but real. “Invisible magnet.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “Exactly.”

There’s a brief silence — not uncomfortable this time, just reflective. Like neither of you know what to do with the truth now that it’s been spoken out loud.

“I don’t know what it means,” you admit, leaning lightly against the table beside you. “And I’m not sure what to do with it either.”

Bucky glances at you again, eyes softer now.

“But it’s real,” he says.

You nod. “Yeah. It’s real.”

Neither of you move closer. Neither of you pull away. There’s no grand moment, no promise, no plan — just two people, standing in the middle of a quiet Wakandan room, holding onto something they don’t fully understand.

You glance away for a second, trying to collect your thoughts — but your eyes land on the glass door.

And there he is. Steve.

Standing just outside the lab, arms crossed, one eyebrow raised in that older brother watching from a distance kind of way. You can practically feel the smugness radiating off of him.

Then — because of course he would — he lifts a hand and makes the most exaggerated “kissy face” gesture imaginable. Puckered lips. Two fingers tapping together. A little heart drawn in the air for good measure.

You freeze, widening your eyes at him.

Bucky notices the way your expression suddenly shifts — the subtle horror creeping into your face — and turns to follow your gaze.

“What is he—?”

You step in front of him so fast it’s almost comedic.

“Nothing. He’s just being Steve.”

Bucky narrows his eyes. “Was he… doing a thing with his hands?”

“Nope,” you say, a little too fast. “Just a… diplomatic wave. Wakandan custom. Very respectful.”

Steve, now thoroughly entertained, is biting his bottom lip to keep from laughing.

Before Bucky can press further — or you can come up with a better excuse for Steve’s antics — the door slides open.

Steve steps into the room like he’s been waiting for the exact right moment to ruin it. He looks between the two of you with a suspiciously innocent expression that doesn't fool either of you.

“Sorry to interrupt,” he says, though he doesn't sound very sorry. “Shuri’s ready.”

You blink. “Already?”

He nods, a little more serious now. “Lab’s prepped. Everything’s in place.”

You feel Bucky stiffen slightly beside you, but he doesn’t look away. There’s a quiet understanding in his eyes now — something grounded. Steady. He knew this was coming.

You glance between them both, something tightening in your chest.

“How long will he be under?” you ask, your voice softer again.

Steve shrugs gently. “As long as it takes. Until he’s really free.”

Bucky takes a breath, turning toward the door, but he pauses — just long enough to glance back at you. There’s something like a silent question in his expression. Something waiting.

You offer a small nod.

And together, the three of you walk down the corridor. The lab was bathed in soft blue light, reflecting off the smooth vibranium panels and glass interfaces. At the center stood the cryogenic chamber — sleek, sterile, silent — waiting.

You lingered near the entrance, watching as Bucky stepped forward with slow, steady steps. He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. This wasn’t the kind of moment that called for words.

Steve followed behind him, quieter than usual, his expression unreadable. But when Bucky turned to face him, the tension shifted.

They stood in front of each other for a long moment — no soldier and no captain. Just two men who had been through too much together, and were somehow still standing.

Steve broke the silence first.

“You sure this is the right call?” His voice was low, but steady. Honest.

Bucky nodded, his jaw tight. “I can’t trust my own mind so… that’s the best option.”

Steve glanced at the floor, then back up. “You’ve been carrying this for longer than we know. You’ll be fine”

“Thanks,” Bucky said, quick and certain. “For being here.”

“Always, pal.” Steve nods, a concerned smile adorning his face.

There was a beat, and then Bucky let out a breath — half a laugh, almost. “Just don’t do anything stupid until I get back”

Steve gave a soft huff. “How can I? You’re taking all the stupidity with you.”

The two exchanged a small, tired smile. But their eyes said everything else — the things that couldn’t be spoken: I’m sorry. I’m proud of you. I’ll be here when you wake up.

They stepped forward at the same time, and Steve pulled Bucky into a firm embrace — not brief, not forced. Just real.

You looked away, jaw clenched, forcing yourself to breathe through the lump forming in your throat. This was their goodbye. Their history. You didn’t want to intrude. But still… watching it hurt more than you expected.

When they finally pulled apart, Bucky turned — and found you waiting.

The weight of the moment returned in full.

He took a step closer, slower this time, his eyes locked on yours.

“I’ll be okay,” he said softly. “And when I wake up… maybe we’ll both know what to do with this.”

You nodded, swallowing hard. “Just don’t take too long.”

A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

Then — something shifted.

You felt it in the silence. In the way he lingered. In the way your heart beat just a little louder, like it knew time was running out.

Steve didn’t say a word. He just glanced from Bucky to you, then back again. One eyebrow lifted — subtle, but clear.

Now or never.

You hesitated, your breath catching. Then, slowly, you stepped forward and reached up, fingers brushing against Bucky’s jaw with barely a touch. And you kissed him.

It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t dramatic. Just a soft, grounding press of your lips against his — a silent promise, a thank you, a goodbye. His hand came up, gently touching your waist, as if memorizing the shape of the moment.

When you pulled back, your voice was barely a whisper. “For good luck. You return it when you wake up.”

He looked at you like he wanted to say something — maybe a hundred things — but instead, he just nodded.

“Okay.” He mirrors your shy, sensible smile.

Then he turned, stepped into the chamber, closed his eyes and let the door do the same.

You stood beside Steve as the cryo-pod sealed shut, the mist already curling around the edges. The bite on your lip held both your tears, and the feeling of missing Bucky’s lips against yours. Already.

The chamber hissed softly as it sealed, locking Bucky into a stasis of silence and frost. You stood still for a moment longer, staring through the curved glass — watching as the mist rose and softened the edges of his face until it faded completely.

A quiet breath left your lips. Not relief. Not grief. Something in between.

Steve waited beside you without rushing, giving you the time you needed. Then, gently, he turned toward the door.

You followed him out of the lab, your footsteps echoing faintly down the sleek corridor. It wasn’t until you reached the end of the hall that he finally spoke — voice low, but unmistakably smug.

“So…” He didn’t look at you. Just kept walking. “…you did kiss him goodbye.”

You narrowed your eyes, cheeks flushing instantly. “Don’t start.”

Steve raised both hands in faux innocence. “Hey, I didn’t say a word. You’re the one blushing.”

You shoved his shoulder lightly. “You’re insufferable.”

He grinned. “Takes one to know one.”

But then he looked at you — and the teasing faded just enough to let something warmer shine through.

“You did good,” he said. “For him. For yourself.”

You didn’t answer, but the way you smiled back told him you understood.

And together, once again, you walked on.

EPILOGUE

The compound was quiet when you stepped back inside. Not the tense kind of quiet from before — just late-night silence, familiar and still. You dropped your bag by the couch, rolled your shoulders, and kicked off your boots with the grace of someone who had clearly been sneaking around behind global authorities.

You made it five steps into the kitchen before his voice echoed from the other side of the island.

“Took you long enough.”

You jumped slightly. “Jesus, Tony—”

“Wrong deity,” he said, holding up a coffee mug. “But thanks for the dramatic entrance. Very spy-thriller of you.”

He looked exactly the same — hoodie, rumpled hair, tired eyes pretending not to be relieved. You hated how good he was at that.

You leaned against the counter, trying not to smile. “Did Friday tell you I was back?”

“Nope. I guessed.” He sipped his coffee. “That, or the giant mutant ant returned with a postcard.”

You snorted. “Sorry I ran off.”

He waved a hand. “Eh, I’ve been ditched for worse things than a cryogenically frozen ex-HYDRA assassin with severe emotional damage. Honestly? Kind of proud.”

You blinked. “Wait—proud?”

He held up a finger. “Don’t make it weird. I’m still mad. But also, you know...”

He hesitated just a moment too long. “You’re my favorite Stark. Don’t tell Pepper.”

A lump formed quietly in your throat, but you masked it with a smirk.

“Yeah, well… you’re not my favorite genius billionaire anymore.”

Tony squinted. “Is it because I didn’t build you a vibranium suit?”

You shrugged, walking around the counter to grab a mug. “That’s part of it.”

He watched you for a second as you poured coffee into your cup, his expression softening just a fraction.

“You okay?” he asked, quieter now.

You nodded, keeping your eyes on the coffee. “I will be. Are you?”

“Same.” He didn’t press.

Instead, he reached out, hooked a finger through the handle of your mug, and pulled it closer to refill it himself.

“Well,” he said. “I already told the team you're grounded, just so you know.”

You rolled your eyes. “You can’t ground me.”

“I just did.”

You took the mug back and bumped your shoulder lightly into his.

And for a moment — just a moment — it felt like home again.

[luvbug724]

here’s the thing about thea calling it jeans “old tricks.” we’re given more than ample clues to fill in the blanks. jean refused to let anyone else in the nest know he was raped. he and kevin painstakingly covered up after riko because they were too proud to let anyone in on the abuse they faced. thea has no reason to suspect assault— ive said it before, but there’s no crime unless jean speaks up.

i see the claim that jeremy knew it was statutory rape so thea should have, but jeremy is in california, from california, born & raised. the age of consent is 18, as opposed to 16 in west virginia. jeremy is operating under a different legal framework. but look at the scene as a whole: it’s not important that jeremy believes it was statutory rape, because that accusation leads to jeans revelation that he never consented. it may not have been statutory under west virginia law, but it was rape. thea and jean have never had that conversation, and if jean has it his way they never will.

thea looks at jean and she has no reason to see a victim, but every reason to see a teenager she cares about making bad decisions that hurt him. jean himself tells her they were just mistakes. that’s how her “old tricks” sentence comes across. she’s tired. it sets her apart from the rest of the ravens— that’s far more compassion than any of the current line up gave him.

[world-of-wales]

4 FEBRUARY 2025 | The Princess of Wales, launched the interactive Bobeam Tree Trail at the National Portrait Gallery. The trail was created using the Shaping Us Framework and it aims to increase awareness and understanding of society’s social and emotional skills.

The trail is completely free and runs until March 16. The NPG website is also offering related activities to do at home.

It was also announced that, over the course of 2025, The Box, Plymouth; The Lowry, Manchester; Middlesborough Institute of Modern Art; National Museums Northern Ireland and Museums and Galleries Sheffield will work with the Royal Foundation Centre for Early Childhood and National Portrait Gallery to bring the Shaping Us Framework to life through their own collections.

Staff at the museums and galleries will also co-design a toolkit to help others across the UK to incorporate the framework into their offerings for younger visitors.

[firelxdykatara]

I think part of what frustrates me about age gap discourse with respect to BTVS specifically is that framing Buffy's relationship with Angel as 'grown man preys on teenage girl' requires that you ignore everything about the context of the show, the context that their relationship occurs within, and also what it means for both of them as characters and for the show as a whole.

It's also just like, really boring?

Like before you get to any of the story reasons why that's just a stupidly reductive analytical framework, you have to start with this: in a story aimed at teenagers, the fantasy is of being special and desired by a sexy immortal, and because the story is aimed at teenagers, the main characters are (or start as) teenagers, since the coming of age narrative that underpins everything else doesn't work without it. Hard to tackle that transition from adolescence to adulthood with a main character who begins the series as an adult!

(And it's not as if coming of age stories for adults don't exist. Phoebe Halliwell is a very good example--unlike her older sisters, she starts off unemployed and kind of adrift and desperate to find a purpose, which she ultimately does as a witch and a Charmed One, and all of this is done while she, as the youngest, is in her early twenties at the series start, because the show is primarily aimed at adults.)

And the thing is, Angel isn't just some adult man preying on a highschooler for kicks because he can't find women his own age. As Angelus, he spent well over a century enamored with Darla and committing wanton slaughter and destruction by her side. As Angel, with the exception of Buffy, all of his love interests are adults, and his love for Buffy is not tied to her youth, innocence, or naivete, considering that it links and binds them so completely that they keep crossing in and out of each other's lives through the end of Buffy's show, with the door explicitly open for a future relationship once Buffy's finished baking.

What draws Angel to Buffy--and what makes their relationship so dangerously compelling and also ultimately spells its downfall as, within the text of the show, it is explicitly a tragedy--is the fact that she's the Slayer.

That's the key point--her status as the Chosen One! He is drawn to her (as all vampires are, to a greater or lesser extent, but it's no accident that her only other truly earth shattering romantic relationship in the series is with another vampire) because she's the Slayer, and because of the soul he was cursed to bear and the guilt he feels for the evil he committed as a vampire, he wants to protect and save her as part of his atonement. He falls in love with her because she brings light back into the darkness he has been cast into since being forced to bear a soul even as a monster. And he would be 241 years old whether he was turned as a teenager and could pass as one of her peers or turned at 26 (the show is inconsistent on the age at which he was turned and it really doesn't matter, since the buffyverse never tries to pretend vampires are 'frozen' at the age they're turned anyway), and yes, part of what is darkly compelling about their relationship is that the age difference is obvious (Sarah Michelle Gellar was 20 and David Boreanaz was 28 during season 1), but the reason Angel being an 'older man' is never considered super relevant (aside from a few lampshades) is because... it really isn't.

The important thing, the critical thing, the thing that matters in the context of their relationship is that Angel is a vampire. That's why when Angel pulls out his 'I'm 241, you're 16' spiel it rings so hollow--because that doesn't really matter to either of them and he knows it. He's trying to push her away because it's the only way he can really protect her, and even then it doesn't work, and they all suffer for it horribly, Buffy most of all. (And even then she can't stop loving him, nor he her, and that makes it all the more tragic when he realizes the only thing he can do for her is leave.)

Also, it really throws into sharp relief the fact that people care so much about Buffy being a teenage girl when it comes to her romantic relationships but not at all when it comes to her being fated to die. Something the show itself is also quite critical of, because that's part of the point--being the Slayer is an awful burden that none of them have ever had a choice but to bear, and Buffy was supposed to die at sixteen years old. The only reason she survives is because she broke the rules by trying to have a normal life in addition to being the Slayer, which is the only reason she has friends to help her and save her, and I'm supposed to look at all of that and care that her broody vampire bf was a 'grown man' when he was turned? Really?

I don't think so. You can't just be willing to take what the show says for itself at face value when it comes to all the fighting and killing and dying but then balk when it comes to sex. That just doesn't work for me. (I mean, you can, and a lot of people do, but it's frustrating, hence this post.)

[silvermoon424]

So things might be worse than originally thought for Mangadex reddit[.]com/r/HobbyDrama/comments/1kq2my7/comment/mt7ygx9/ 😬

Gonna go ahead and copy-paste the entire post because it's a great writeup:

Manga drama that’s ongoing. For the past seven years, one of the bigger manga sites that people used is called MangaDex. Rosen from the ashes of Bato.to, another manga aggregation site where the author had enough handling the site and quit, MangaDex built itself up into a powerhouse of a manga site - scan translators would upload manga en masse, and while uploading official manga rips was banned, MD would allow links to the official release so people could support them there instead. While a pirate site, it was probably one of the more honorable piracy sites out there. On May 16, users suddenly found that many manga, from titles that had active translations to complete series, were pulled from the site after a DMCA was filed. These included series that have no official translation, or series whose licenses expired - there is no legal way to read those titles now. No numbers were formally mentioned, but updates showed that at least 1000 series were taken down - more than 60,000 chapters. People were begging the MangaDex owners to clarify what happened, and they responded. * The prior numbers were an underestimate - over 7000 titles were hit by the DMCA * The DMCA was joint-filed by the rights-holders of the manga (not a false flag operation from a scanslation team upset that MangaDex banned groups who post paywalled chapters, as some thought) * A tick box was added to the chapter upload page so that people uploading manga have to confirm that they are legally allowed to post the translation from the rights holders (basically users can still post scanslated chapters, but the responsibility if another DMCA is filed falls on them) * NamiComi, a webcomic publisher akin to Naver or Webtoon, has accepted to take management of the site and its domain because they have the legal framework needed to protect MangaDex from DMCAs. Many r/manga users are already mourning the trajectory the site is taking. Obviously piracy is a hydra and a new head will always pop up when one is cut off, but it still takes a ton of time and effort to grow that head. And of course MangaDex doesn’t have a way to export your follows, so whatever site becomes the norm, I will basically need to punch in all the series I’m reading one by one again and pray the official publishers don’t smite them down too.

Okay, this is fucking horrible and so much worse than I thought. But as I said before, the international anime/manga scene was literally built on piracy so I know new sites will come to replace the lost ones. But it still fucking sucks, man.

[sonicboomrevisited]

Welcome to Sonic Boom Revisited!

Hey there and welcome! Just a few things before you scroll down and get into the meat of things:

What is Sonic Boom Revisited?

Sonic Boom Revisited is an attempt at fostering new, in-depth stories within the Sonic Boom canon, while maintaining the same comedic flavor expected from the original series. Each story not only reflects the creator's desire to see certain elements of other Sonic canon play out under the umbrella Boom has made for itself, but it also serves as a framework for potentially exploring Boom's unexplained elements.

TL;DR - Sonic Boom Revisited is like Sonic Boom season 3, if season 3 had been written by two fans who think way too much about all things Sonic.

~~~~~~

Who do I hold responsible for this?

The story and comic were originally created by the very talented @multiisketch, who brought the echidna-crazed writer @mama-qwerty on for help with brainstorming, and various story tweaks. @star-stages has also joined the team to work on colors!

~~~~~~

When are updates posted?

THURSDAY at 8AM EST

~~~~~~

Can I dub your comic?

Absolutely! We welcome dubs, so long as you give proper credit and let us know ahead of time. (A link back here wouldn't be terrible, either!)

~~~~~~

I have a question/comment/theory/art/other mind dropping to share!

By all means, share with us! We love to see what people think, welcome any fanart they have, and answer questions to Multi, Qwerty or Star. Don't be afraid to reach out! But please keep asks on topic!

~~~~~~

Can I buy you a coffee?

Multi: https://ko-fi.com/multiisketch

Star: https://ko-fi.com/starstages

Qwerty: https://ko-fi.com/mamaqwerty

~~~~~~

LINKS

Issue 1 - Robo-ification Part One

FULL PDF

Cover/Intro ~ Bonus Cover ~ Page 1-2 ~ Page 3-4 ~ Page 5-6 ~ Page 7-8 ~ Page 9-10 ~ Page 11-12 ~ Page 13-14 ~ Page 15-16 ~ Page 17-18 ~ Page 19-20 ~ Ask Panel

Issue 2 - Robo-ification Part Two: Intrusive Thoughts

FULL PDF

Cover A | Cover B | Cover C

Intro ~ Page 1-2 ~ Page 3-4 ~ Page 5-6 ~ Page 7-8 ~ Page 9-10 ~ Page 11-12 ~ Page 13-14 ~ Page 15-16 ~ Page 17-18 ~ Page 19-20 ~ Page 21-22 ~ Ask Panel

ISSUE 3 - Robo-ification Part Three: Twisted Reflections

Cover A | Cover B | Cover C

Intro ~ Page 1-2 ~ Page 3-4 ~ Page 5-6 ~ Page 7-8 ~ Page 9-10 ~ Page 11-12 ~ Page 13-14 ~ Page 15-16 ~ Page 17-18 ~ Page 19-20

~~~~~~

SHORT STORIES

Christmas 2024 ~ Fragmentation

~~~~~

REFERENCE ART

TURNAROUNDS: Robo-Sonic

CONCEPT: Robo-Sonic ~ Rouge the Bat ~ Team Chaotix

BONUS ART: 1 | 2

~~~~~~

Enjoy your stay!

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Personality Traits

Raymond Cattell's Trait Theory

Warmth

LOW level of warmth: More likely to be Reserved – detached, critical, aloof, stiff

HIGH level of warmth: More likely to be Outgoing – warmhearted, easy-going, participating

Intellect

LOW: Less Intelligent – concrete-thinking

HIGH: More Intelligent – abstract-thinking, bright

Emotional Stability

LOW: Affected By Feelings – emotionally less stable, easily upset, changeable

HIGH: Emotionally Stable – mature, faces reality, calm

Aggressiveness

LOW: Humble – mild, easily led, docile, accommodating

HIGH: Assertive – aggressive, stubborn, competitive

Liveliness

LOW: Sober – taciturn, serious

HIGH: Happy-Go-Lucky – enthusiastic

Dutifulness

LOW: Expedient – disregards rules

HIGH: Conscientious – persistent, moralistic, staid

Social Assertiveness

LOW: Shy – timid, threat-sensitive

HIGH: Venturesome – uninhibited, socially bold

Sensitivity

LOW: Tough-Minded – self-reliant, realistic

HIGH: Tender-Minded – sensitive, clinging, overprotected

Paranoia

LOW: Trusting – accepting conditions

HIGH: Suspicious – hard to fool

Abstractness

LOW: Practical – “down-to-earth” concerns

HIGH: Imaginative – bohemian, absent-minded

Introversion

LOW: Forthright – unpretentious, genuine but socially clumsy

HIGH: Astute – polished, socially aware

Anxiety

LOW: Self-Assured – placid, secure, complacent, serene

HIGH: Apprehensive – self-reproaching, insecure, worrying, troubled

Open Mindedness

LOW: Conservative – respecting traditional ideas

HIGH: Experimenting – liberal, free-thinking

Independence

LOW: Group-Dependent – a “joiner” and sound follower

HIGH: Self-Sufficient – resourceful, prefers own decisions

Perfectionism

LOW: Undisciplined Self-Conflict – lax, follows own urges, careless of social rules

HIGH: Controlled – exacting will power, socially precise, compulsive

Tension

LOW: Relaxed – tranquil, unfrustrated, composed

HIGH: Tense – frustrated, driven, overwrought

Boiling Down the Traits

In order to scientifically establish a formal framework for understanding personality, Cattell used a statistical technique known as factor analysis.

He started out with a list of 4,500 adjectives that could describe people (taken from the English dictionary).

He then completed a laborious process of grouping these adjectives into 171 ‘clusters’, which were used in a series of studies where people rated others on the traits.

Over a period of several years, Cattell and his team of psychologists then used this data to boil down the set of traits to just 16.

These 16 traits were the smallest number of factors believed to meaningfully describe observable behaviour.

Sources: 1 2 ⚜ More: On Psychology ⚜ Writing Notes & References