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Why am I not showing you pictures from the collection? But they exist. Here's a Winter Soldier sketch, for example.

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On Bucky Barnes as a Super Soldier

Huh, I just realized there is actually some Winter Soldier/Bucky Barnes meta that can be drawn from CACW ( even if not nearly as much as from CAWS):

Around the 1:13 mark, in the scene with the flashback to the training of other “Winter Soldiers” which goes awry, one of the HYDRA soldiers tells Bucky to protect him as he flees the room once the prototype soldiers start going berserk. Bucky complies without issue (we just watched another Winter Soldier swiftly murder a doctor who was trying to inject him) and shields the HYDRA guy while getting him out of there.

Back in the present, Sam asks if these soldiers are as bad as Bucky (understandable given Sam’s, err, experience with the Bucky Winter Soldier ie almost being murdered multiple times) to which Bucky responds, “Worse.”

I hadn’t thought much of the moment, I had admittedly only seen Civil War once, and my initial assumption was that the later attempts at super soldier serum after Steve and Erskine were just harsher and therefore prone to failure, just like how Bruce Banner’s attempt turned him into the Hulk.

It only just occurred to me to go back to what Erskine said: the serum amplifies that which is in the heart. Meaning: Bucky Barnes was an inherently better person than those other super soldiers. More disciplined, less brutal, and let’s not forget the sheer amount of conditioning and brain washing HYDRA needed to do to get him to obey.

Or, if we want to go with something less saccharine than “Bucky is nice therefore a less rabid super soldier,” we can use that scene to pick apart some other characteristics the serum might have amplified besides him being something so nebulous as a “good person”. 

Characteristics such as:

Self Control: as the Winter Soldier, Bucky remains composed and in control, rather than rabid, in all but the most extreme circumstances (such as when his conditioning starts falling apart when confronted with his memories of Steve, and by extension the realization of what’s been done to him). Kind of reminds me of this:

The other Winter Soldiers looked like they needed to be kept on extremely short leashes to keep from killing their own handlers (something Bucky does share to some extent but he did not go for the kill nearly as quickly as they did). We can deduce that regardless of who he’s working for, Bucky is a disciplined soldier and not a berserk murderer.

Obedience: This one is a little more complicated, because so much obedience is drilled into him by HYDRA. But… it’s not unfair to say Bucky shows signs of being obedient and “a good soldier” even before becoming the Winter Soldier. Starting from going off to WWII in the first place, to listing his serial number on the operating table (which is regulation for POWs), to signing up to serve alongside Captain America at Steve’s request even after he had just been freed from torture. Frankly, the only time we see him disobey a direct order is when Steve ordered him to run out of Schmidt’s base and Bucky gave us the infamous,

So again, obedient to authority (including Steve) except when it comes to Steve’s life. Though, it’s worth noting, not necessarily Steve’s overall safety. After all, the Winter Soldier beat the shit out of Steve, and Bucky obviously didn’t stop Steve from going on missions, where he was undoubtedly injured. Threat’s to Steve’s actual life are the stopping point and the only place where we’ve seen Bucky really disobey an order until he becomes a lone agent after escaping HYDRA’s control.

Keep reading

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is this another beef comparison post? this is another beef comparison post oops

@softpunkbucky and I are comparing beefs again help

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Snippet of a fic I will never write

"I... I've thought a lot about what you said," Apollo finally spoke after standing at that door in silence for quite some time.

Rhea lifted her eyes from the kitchen counter of her house, where she’d been toying with an orange—the cabin her father, Poseidon, had remodeled to look like a summer home.

"...And?"

"You know… for someone who was terrible at all my domains, you sure have a poetic way of saying you love me, Rhea. I’m flattered, by the way." The joke was weak. Rhea’s hand squeezed the orange so hard she felt the juice press against the peel.

"...Apollo..." Rhea began.

"I'm not a good man," Apollo interrupted. He rarely sounded solemn in all the time she’d known him, but now he did. "I’m not even a man, to begin with. Even if my father somehow made me… 'human.' I'm not really. This—this flesh?" Apollo gestured to himself, running a hand down his arm. "It’s clay he molded and confined me in, stripping me of who—what—I am."

"...I know that..."

"I know you do." Apollo interjected firmly. "You're smarter than people give you credit for, you always have been, and I’m not going to treat you like you’re not." Rhea bit her lip. He was one of the first to ever say that. Annabeth had always treated her like she was an idiot, and often, too many people agreed with her.

"I'm made of essence, Rhea. I was born and have existed for millennia. I was there when the first humans crawled from the mud. I was there when the Hellenes raised their first cities. I was there when Troy fell, when Alexander raised his army and invaded Hellas, when Plato twisted us into moral models, and when Socrates died. I saw the birth of Rome—and its fall. I saw Christ’s crucifixion and watched our temples crumble and fall when Christianity began its crusades. I saw humans cross the seas to the land you now call America. I saw Napoleon conquer Europe—and part of Egypt. I stood in the hall when he declared himself emperor. I witnessed the birth of the British Empire, the two Great Wars, and everything up to today. I have my hands on every page of history. As the God of Civilization, I was there—for better or for worse."

"What's the point you're trying to make, Apollo?"

When people say the worst someone can say is no, they’re lying.

"I'm saying I’ve done unspeakable things, Rhea. Some because I had to, yes—to keep the balance of the Cosmos, which is my duty—but many others? I did them because I was bored. Some out of pure sadism. Others just because I could."

"I know. I know the myths—not all, but enough..."

"The myths aren’t entirely true. And they’re only the tip of the iceberg. Many were lost because they were never recorded." Apollo shook his head. "And you might know them, but you didn’t live them. I’m not insulting your intelligence, Rhea. Just stating that the full weight of their cruelty escapes you." He gave a self-deprecating smile. "And out of selfishness, I hope it stays that way. Because despite your frankly terrible temper," he added with a soft snort, "you are a good person."

"I'm not..."

"You are." He repeated, his blue eyes softening as he stepped closer. "I don’t say this lightly. Most people... they aren’t good or bad. They have moments of empathy, of cruelty, and pettiness. But at the end of the day, they’re neutral. That’s humanity. But you, Rhea, you are inherently good. A few moments of cruelty don’t erase the rest of the whole."

"You could’ve just said you weren’t interested, you know?" she muttered, annoyed. Apollo blinked, then let out a small laugh. A tiny tsunami stirred in Rhea’s chest, her hands clenching into fists.

"That’s not funny! I..."

"Rhea." He interrupted, placing a hand over her closed fist, finally exhaling. His face was flushed from laughing, half disbelieving. "I was willing to stay mortal for you."

Her anger vanished as fast as it came, and her eyes widened like two coins.

"W-What?" Apollo exhaled softly, stepping closer, his other hand brushing her cheek, wiping away a tear she hadn’t noticed falling.

"I was willing to give up my divinity," he repeated slowly, almost amused by the absurdity. "To live and grow... old." He snorted. "with you."

"...I... I..." Rhea was speechless. Apollo loved being a god. He loved it. It was who he was.

"I’d never ask that of you… You are who you are." she whispered.

"That’s exactly why I’d do it for you," he replied gently, brushing a loose strand behind her ear. "Do you remember the first time I saw you?"

"...On the train? Fred?"

"No." Apollo chuckled softly. "On Hephaestus’ TV. The Tunnel of Love."

Rhea grimaced.

"That?" she muttered.

"I was intensely curious. Among my many domains, prophecy was always… one of my favorites, you could say." He shrugged. "When I heard Poseidon had a forbidden child, I immediately wanted to know who. The Great Prophecy swirled around you. I remember seeing you and Annabeth in that ride, thinking you might die there. That the prophecy would shift to someone else. Another child." He snorted. "Then you screamed at her to jump. From a speeding cart. And you both survived."

"Funny how those were the simpler times."

"Being accused of stealing from the King of the Gods was... more peaceful, certainly." Apollo seemed terribly amused with irony. "And then I really saw you, when you entered Olympus."

"I didn’t see you that day." Apollo didn’t seem impressed with her statement.

"Of course you didn’t. You were all running around like lunatics, not paying attention to anything. But you were small then, and your fate lines were... foggy. I was fascinated. It’s why I sent you on ridiculous quest after ridiculous quest" — he echoed her words from a week ago, sounding genuinely amused — "all throughout your middle and high school. You were fun. Especially when I watched you biting your tongue, furious, trying not to curse me out like an especially grumpy kitten."

Rhea narrowed her eyes. Not impressed. But biting her tongue again. Apollo laughed softly. She probably had the same grumpy kitten face he liked so much. Gods, why did he fall for her again?

"Ha ha."

"Sorry about that."

"You're not sorry."

"I’m sorry for putting you in danger. But not for annoying you." Apollo declared with a huff. Then, more softly: "Rhea. What I’m saying is... I’ll do everything I can to heal you."

"...Apollo."

"Listen to me." Apollo said. "I’ll do everything. I’m the God of Healing, Rhea. There’s practically nothing I can’t fix. Even if souls aren’t my specialty, I’ll find a way once I get my divinity back."

Rhea looked away, but Apollo gently turned her face, not letting her eyes escape his. His gaze was so intense, so determined.

"And if you can’t?" she asked softly, hating how fragile her voice sounded. "What if it’s too late?"

"...Then I’ll never forget you," he declared, solemn and final. "Not that I think forgetting you is possible. Even if I hadn’t fallen in love with you—you’re still a living legend, my love. But according to our culture—my culture..." he corrected himself, "you’ll live on as long as someone remembers you. And I will remember you, for all my days, until every star in the sky burns out. I’ll remember you."

"...Apollo..." Rhea tried. Their foreheads were touching now, his arm around her waist. The orange had long been forgotten on the counter. Her hands rested on his chest, feeling that false heart pumping ink-like blood beneath her fingers. Ba-thump, ba-thump.

"You’ll never be forgotten, Rhea. I’ll carve you in stone and ink. Your legend will outlast millennia. They’ll know the warrior you were, how your heart was strong and kind. The leader and the strategist. How power flowed through your veins like a river. Your victories and feats."

His hand rose to her cheek, eyes never leaving hers — soul to soul.

"But not just that. They’ll know your love for blue cookies, your kindness and your compassion. They’ll know you baked to deal with stress. That you love skating and horseback riding. That you took time to help dryads, naiads, and sea animals caught in nets. They’ll remember how you struggle to go from E to A in any instrument you try to play."

Tears welled in Rhea’s eyes.

"They’ll know how your eyes shine and the dimple that appears when your smile is real. They’ll know how you put others first, and how I love and hate that about you." Apollo continued softly. "I will remember you, and I will make the world remember you. As long as your memory remains—you will never truly die. I swear to you, on the Styx. On my ichor. On all my domains. I will remember you."

Tears streamed down Rhea’s cheeks like little rivers as they shared the same breath. It was instinct that pulled her closer—hands rising to his neck, then his hair, before their lips met in a desperate dance.

His arm tightened around her, the hand on her cheek moved to her nape.

It wasn’t enough to express what she felt, but words wouldn’t do justice either. After a moment that felt far too short, they pulled apart, sharing the same breath, the same heartbeat—green eyes locked with blue, a moment that felt like eternity, before Rhea rested her head beneath Apollo’s chin.

"...Now I finally get where the title ‘God of Poetry’ came from." she joked, trying to hide the vulnerability.

Apollo let out a soft laugh into her hair.

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whenever i see a portrayal of bob that’s a bit too UwU, i think of how this dude had the audacity (the unmitigated gall) to call a man, who he witnessed trying to murder a tiny russian woman, an asshole to his face, laughing the whole time

yes he’s your baby boy, but he’s also a troll lmao

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Captain America: The Winter Soldier April 4, 2014 | dir. Joe Russo, Anthony Russo

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Sebastian Stan as Winter Soldier Captain America: Civil War (2016)

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When the Soviets experimented on Bucky, reprogramming him to become the WInter Soldier, do you think they taught him charm? Did they program him to smile? To laugh? Charm, to endear? 

They taught him to use so many weapons, we see a range of guns, and rocket launchers, and disk grenades. All sorts, all used to maximum deadly effect. And charm is definitely a weapon, if you use it right. It can get you into places, earn the trust of a target. It’s useful when finding a convenient alcove or massacring a room aren’t viable options. 

We know they must have in the comics. One of the very first missions the Winter Soldier is sent on, he joins a group of American and British Soldiers, who think they’re one of them and let him into West Berlin. He spends the night with them in a bar, before their jeep mysteriously overturns in the morning.  

We are told he lost everything when he was recovered, and that they wiped his brain of anything else. So they obviously taught him some sort of social skills, and enough to allow him to join this group within the same night of meeting them. 

A charming assassin, one that could not only strike from afar, or clear a room with a rain of bullets, but also get his target to trust him, now that would be valuable. But an assassin that the Americans, the West, accept as one of their own? That they drink with, laugh with, let into their trust? That’s more than just valuable, that’s a golden opportunity you definitely don’t throw away. 

So. 

Imagine you’re a diplomat. It’s a big party, a ball, you know the ones. It's for "business", really, but behind closed doors, it's an excuse to show off and drink more than you should. You and your group hit the bar early, and soon enough you’re feeling warm and happy, talking and laughing and chatting away. 

You come back to the group from the bathroom, and you’re introduced to a young, handsome man. A strong gloved grip, a sharp jawline, combed hair and a warm Brooklyn accent. Introductions are kinda par for the course, it's that kind of party. You ask him where he’s from, and he laughs, gesturing somewhere in the throng, and starts telling a story that has you and your group laughing in a few minutes. You’re not sure who he came with, but this is your fifth glass and, honestly? At this point, you don’t care. He’s charming, he makes small talk, flatters the women, and laughs along with the men. 

James, he introduces himself as, and in no time at all it feels like you’ve known each other all your life. 

The next time you try to stumble over to the bar, he laughs, and puts a hand on your shoulder, and declares to cheers that it’s his turn to get everyone a round. Well, it's a free bar, but your legs thank you for the rest and you stay standing around laughing with the others at some crude joke the ambassador for Austria just made. You didn’t quite hear the punchline, but you find yourself laughing nonetheless. 

You take the drink James gives you, down it like all the others. 

Soon enough it’s getting late. You feel a little woozy, and you could kill for a smoke right about now, and, laughing, your new friend joins you, with a warm smile and an arm around your shoulders. 

The air outside is crisp, and it's lightly snowing. James offers you a light, and you readily accept, and before long it's just the two of you, out the back, leaning against the concrete wall, blowing smoke into the air.

You’ve taken two long drafts of your cigarette, eyes closed as the crisp night bites at your cheeks, when you feel the knife slide between your ribs. You choke on the smoke between your lips, pain flaring in your side. You swear sharp metal of the knife feels as cold as the snow that falls on your cheeks and catches in your eyelashes. 

You turn to see James, the mystery man that smiled, laughed, flirted and flattered. Twisting the knife deeper into your side, and plunging a second into your chest.  

As he stares into your face, and you stare back at his, gaping, you realise.

His eyes.

All through the night, despite the laughing and the smiling, it never quite reached his eyes. They’re cold, and dull, a steely blue. 

And deep inside, maybe a little sad. 

Not James. The Soldier.

And if his cold, hard stare falters for a moment when his eyes catch the old war medal on your chest, the one from your granddad, the one you’ve always worn to these, ever since you were sixteen, then what about it? You certainly wouldn’t see it, as you waste your last breaths begging for your life as the blood begins to flood your mouth. 

Because, really.

Why would he care about an old medal from the 107th?

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For some reason, I rewatched Black Widow (2021) last night, and earlier today, I saw some gifs of the moment in CACW where Steve and Sam question a captive Bucky.

I feel like I’m a bit slow on realizing this, but it should already have been clear, but I found an interesting connection between both, and it’s not the whole Sokovia Accords thing, it’s not.

So in Black Widow, several allusions are made to the fact that the Widows — lethal young women, all of them — can change the world on command. Alexei addresses his adoptive daughters on their way “home”:

“And Natasha, not just a spy, not just toppling regimes, destroying empires from within, but an Avenger.”

Later on, Natasha faces Dreykov, the brutal leader of the Red Room where she grew up. He tells her:

“These world leaders, these great men, they answer to me and my widows. Look at them. These girls were trash. They are thrown out into the street. I recycle the trash. And I give them purpose. I give them a life. It’s my network of widows that help me control the scales of power. One command, the oil and stock markets crumble. One command, and a quarter of the planet will starve. My widows can start and end wars. They can make and break kings.”

The idea here is that the Red Room’s collection of widows are able to, at a moment’s notice, reshape the world to Dreykov’s liking.

Here’s where it gets interesting.

We rewind back a few years, both chronologically speaking and in release date order, to Captain America: Civil War (2016). Bucky has his metal arm in a vice, and Sam and Steve want answers from him:

“What did I do?”

“Enough.”

“Oh, God, I knew this would happen. Everything HYDRA put inside me is still there. All he had to do was say the goddamn words.”

“Who was he?”

“I don't know.”

“People are dead. The bombing, the setup... the doctor did all that just to get 10 minutes with you. I need you to do better than "I don't know."”

“He wanted to know about Siberia. Where I was kept. He wanted to know exactly where.”

“Why would he need to know that?”

“Because I'm not the only Winter Soldier.”

“Who were they?”

“Their most elite death squad. More kills than anyone in HYDRA history. And that was before the serum.”

“They all turn out like you?”

“Worse.”

“The doctor, could he control them?”

“Enough.”

“Said he wanted to see an empire fall.”

“They speak 30 languages, can hide in plain sight... infiltrate, assassinate, destabilize. They can take a whole country down in one night, you'd never see them coming.”

The descriptions of what the Widows and the Soldiers do seem to match up, they do more or less the same thing, with more or less the same objectives.

In Black Widow, Melina makes reference to HYDRA’s pet project:

“We infiltrated the North Institute in Ohio. It was a front for S.H.I.E.L.D. scientists. Actually, it was Hydra scientists at that time. In conjunction with the Winter Soldier project, they had dissected and deconstructed the human brain to create the first and only cellular blueprint of the basal ganglia.”

This tells us that the Red Room and HYDRA worked closely with one another, and there’s also a hint of this in CACW when Sharon and Natasha ambush a brainwashed Bucky at an eatery. Not even a minute into the altercation, Natasha tries to bring Bucky down using her signature move but his size prevents her from doing that. He slams her down backwards onto a table, his metal hand around her throat. Natasha grabs hold of his wrist and forces the following words out:

“You could at least recognize me.”

Which indicates at some point in the past, Natasha and Bucky — as a Widow and a Soldier, respectively — may have either worked together or even gone up against each other. Nat clearly remembers him, but in his single-minded drive to accomplish his mission, he does not indicate any frame of reference for this supposed past encounter. (Edit: Nat and Bucky (as the Winter Soldier) did fight in CATWS. But that’s not the point.)

It seems that the Widows and the Soldiers were indeed highly trained in espionage, infiltration, spying, assassination. They were able to — on command — change the world at the drop of a hat.

If they truly had collaborated, the effects of their joint efforts would have been devastating, had both the Red Room’s Black Widow program and HYDRA’s Winter Soldier program not been snuffed out for good.

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A little bit of realistic style practice

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General approximation of how my Russian ear heard this scene the first time (and it was perfect):

DESIRE!1!!1!!!

zh-rusty!

twzwelve!

intelligence seRRRRvice

f’yornace

nyain

kind-quality (also sounds like “benign” with odd ukrainian accent)

RTVUVRN TO MADALAND

wahn

thunderstorm wagon

EITHER “soldier” with honey-cute uwu pronunciation (he softens the “L” like a german would, but in russian softened consonants are used for baby-talk) OR, if broken in two words, “want some salt?”

“I’m ready to go wild”

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Steve's choices / Bucky's lack thereof

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Do you think Bucky ever got any sleep during all his years of Hydra captivity? Or was it just wipe/kill/back in the freezer? I don't think cryostasis would be anything like normal restorative REM sleep.

Hello nonnie!! I have finally had a light-bulb moment for this ask (I'm sorry it's taken me like 7 months)

I've been going about it the wrong way, trying to research on sleep, when in actuality what I should have been researching is the brain under hypothermia. This is an observational study conducted in the 1980s looking at children undergoing induced hypothermia (lowering of body temperature) during cardiopulmonary bypass (sometimes required during major surgery). In summary, by the time the body temperature cooled to 18 degrees, all brain activity ceased. Sleep - consisting of non-REM and particularly REM - are associated with far more active brain waves. So nonnie, you are very correct in saying that Bucky, even with his super soldier abilities, unlikely ever got any "sleep" during cryostasis. (I'm sorry to all the ficcers that wrote Bucky dreaming during cryo but I think most people are happy to ignore this piece of science)

In terms of whether Bucky ever got "sleep", I think that is hard to say. Even normal soldiers might drive themselves to go without sleep for 36+ hours if required for a mission (heck, even hospital shifts go for 36 hours in some places). As a super soldier, Bucky might tolerate sleep deprivation for longer. This means missions like taking out the Starks - travelling from Russian and back - he might achieve in one sitting without sleeping in between (although I guess no one can stop him from dozing off on the plane).

I think one implied part of your question is "is it likely that Bucky was allowed out of the freezer for long enough periods at a time to need (and get) sleep"? I feel like that is unlikely, judging from the "he's been out of cryo for too long" line from CATWS. The timeline goes: day 1 Bucky makes assassination attempts daytime + night time against Fury / day 2 Steve makes a run down to Jersey arriving there at night / day 3 Bucky attacks Steve on the causeway and then we get the nighttime vault scene where Bucky is "unstable". Even if we add a day or two prior to allow for prepping, that still means Bucky becomes "unstable" and questions his identity within a bare week of being out of cryo.

Credit @lost-shoe (this post)

Now onto the angst...we know anaesthetics is not like restful sleep, so theoretically neither is cryostasis. While the science of cryostasis doesn't exist at the moment, we know from artificial hypothermia in surgical situations that it puts incredible stress on the body and all its organs. Looking at the laboratory derangements during hypothermia it looks like it pushes the body over to anaerobic metabolism and causes lactate to go up. You know when you go for a run and your muscles cramp up because you haven't warmed up enough? That's because your muscles have produced too much lactate from anaerobic metabolism. So...no wonder Bucky can't stand when he comes out of the cryo chamber. It also increases one's bleeding risk and reduces one's healing speed, so take of that what you will for your Whumptober prompts 😂

I also wonder whether, because the brain is not receiving any REM sleep during cryo, it means Bucky has been in a constant state of sleep deprivation for the last 70 years. The theory of "prefrontal vulnerability" in sleep deprivation proposes that functions like language, executive functions, divergent thinking, and creativity are particularly affected, so that can contribute to Bucky's inability to process/produce complex language and his slowness when it comes to working through complex problems. It also has significant effect on memory and attention: it's interesting to note that during sleep deprivation of more than 35 hours, they found that while free recall was affected, recognition was not. (Disclaimer for science: small sample size, opposite result for subjects with sleep deprivation ~24 h).

So yeah, I think there are practical reasons why Hydra would not allow Bucky to have restorative sleep between missions. Consolidation of long term memory (i.e. transferring them from short term storage into long term storage) usually happens during sleep which means it is quite likely Bucky remembers only broken bits of his time (if at all) in the last 7 decades.

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So I wrote up all this stuff weeks ago and drafted it and forgot about it until I seen these tags from @kahuna-burger

And they are absolutely right. And I’m so glad someone agrees with me on this analogy, because this is EXACTLY how I see him, and exactly what I get into below. This is the whole thing I was writing up previously:

“The winter soldier was treated like a living weapon.”

Mmm, yes. The whole living weapon thing is not a wrong metaphor. But I’d argue that there’s something else far more accurate (aka what the now added tags say).

He wasn’t their weapon. He was their dog. In such an uncanny way, almost literal sense. I wouldn’t even say a guard dog, I’d actually say he was Hydra’s hunting dog.

I mean think about it. Really. They actually treated him like a dog.

He wears a harness. He wears a fucking muzzle for gods sake.

But that’s just the bare minimum of similarities.

What do they do when he gets out of line? To punish him, to put make him obey and learn to fall back into good behavior? They shock him. Just like how people have always used shock collars and electric fences for dogs. When he’s been “bad”, when he does something he’s not supposed to, he gets shocked to correct that behavior.

They also smack him and get physical. People don’t do that with weapons. There’s no point in that. And you wouldn’t wanna damage or harm a weapon. But people do smack dogs. They hit their dogs when they don’t behave or do something wrong because harm, pain, and damage will teach it. Just like it teaches him. And they’ll heal so it’s not a concern.

He was trained to obey commands. Just like dogs. He does any little thing he’s told because he’s conditioned with a rewards system. He even has specific command words that trigger compliance. Just like you teach a dog to sit or roll over with trigger words, he has em too. I mean literally, he has a Pavlovian response to said words. And what was the original Pavlov experiment done on? A dog. The only difference is he doesn’t get physical treats. His treat is praise, which they manipulated him into being desperate for. They even go as far to incentivize him with this praise (think about the bank scene, where Pierce praises him), just like you would present a dog with a treat when you want it to do a trick. Hell, actually praise is a way you reward dogs too, because they listen and learn when you tell them they’re a “good boy, good dog”.

Hydra asserts their dominance over him just in case he turns on them, just to remind of who’s the “alpha”. Because they know (just like big dog owners) that he can tear them up, he can attack and shred them to pieces, but if he thinks he’s not the “alpha” then he’ll back down.

And yeah, he’s protective and reliant on his “owners” like most dogs would be. But like I said, not just a guard dog. A hunting dog. Because just like people teach their dogs to track down and go after bears, squirrels, dear, etc. he was also taught how to track down stuff to kill. Stuff that his owner wanted dead. That’s his whole purpose, to hunt for them.

Also, think about how Hydra obtained him. It’s like if a person saw an injured dog in a ditch, brought it to a vet to heal up, then took it home to have as their own pet. Because that’s exactly what they did with him. It’s just the owner was an abusive one.

He wasn’t treated like some expensive tank or powerful arsenal of guns. He was treated like well trained hunting dog.

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ppl who celebrate fictional character birthdays are annoying pass it on

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need a man so muscular he struggles to get his jacket AWF

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By Czeck writer Karel Čapek, inventor of the term ‘robot’ as well!