#no worms were harmed in the making of this

[thedubiousdallon]

Okay, fuck it, I've built up enough goodwill with this sideblog - let's risk it all by sharing my opinions on how Amy is handled in Ward.

It's kinda complicated I think.

Okay, now that I've resisted the urge to immediately hit post for the bit: I think the way her interludes are written substantially flattens her character in a way that I find distasteful and unpleasant, but I find the overall shape of her arc and her role in the narrative compelling. The things I dislike have been well-covered by plenty of other people in the fandom, so I'm going to focus on the things I like.

To talk about Amy's role in Ward, I first need to talk about my interpretation of Ward as a whole. To me, Ward is, above all else, about trauma and recovery. Society is traumatized by the end of the world, the shards are traumatized by the death of Scion and their loss of purpose, individuals are traumatized by all the things individuals are traumatized by. As an aside, this reading is a big reason why I'm not too bothered by a lot of the world building choices that other people frequently (and fairly) criticize - I think many of them serve this theme effectively.

One specific facet of that reading that I find particularly compelling is Ward's interest in people who are traumatized not just by the harm done to them, but by the harm they've done. Characters don't just regret what they've done, they don't just want to be better, they are traumatized by it, and their reactions to that trauma are as messy and complicated as any other traumatized people. I don't always agree with the stances the text takes on how to deal with having done harm and been traumatized as a result, but I find the exploration of the topic compelling.

Enter The Altruistic Amy Dallon.

Amy's arc in Worm was, to a degree, a prototype of this kind of storytelling. She is repeatedly and horrifically traumatized, the actions she eventually takes in response to that experience inflict equally horrific trauma on her victim, and she is further traumatized by her own actions almost to the point of ego death. She removes herself from the environment she was in, begins rebuilding her sense of identity and ethics, and reemerges having grown, prepared to do better going forward and to make reparations for her past actions as best she can. Arc done! It's satisfying and cathartic, and we leave content in the knowledge that the part she's on will take her to better places. It's the quintessential appeal of a redemption arc, and it's a strong example of its type.

There's something people like to say a lot when talking about mental health and personal growth in real life, and that is that progress isn't linear. It's an important truth to understand.

It's rarely true in fiction. Very often, in redemption arcs, in personal growth arcs, after a series of false starts and setbacks, the character reaches a critical point where they resolve their conflict and either overcome it or succumb to it. From that point on, their nature or behavior is fundamentally changed - if they've grown they never relapse past a certain point, or do so only fleetingly, or else never improve past a certain point. This makes sense from a storytelling perspective, but it doesn't map to how growth often works in real life.

In Ward, Amy occupies the very rare narrative position of being who completes her arc of growth and redemption, who crosses that critical threshold of lasting, meaningful change... but backslides anyway, to the point of essentially losing all that progress.

It's an outcome that I find very believable for her, honestly. Her newfound worldview and conviction were forged in the very insular environment of the Birdcage - of course they would be impacted by her new environment. She says at the end of Ward that she had been able to excuse all of her worst behavior because she had convinced herself that she could fix anything - and at the end of Worm, I can see how she would come to think that! She's been pardoned and released from Forever Prison, she overcame her old aversion to brains to create Khepri and thereby saved the world, she's formed a positive relationship with the father she never thought she'd meet, she's receiving love and support from parents she never felt good enough for, she's using her powers to help people in a way that doesn't make her want to die, and she even "fixed" Victoria, when failing to do that before was the final nail in the coffin she just finished clawing her way out of! The sheer number of seemingly impossible things she's accomplished, of apparently irreversible failures she's seemingly put right, is mind boggling! It'd be the easiest thing in the world to let that go to your head!

Her social circle is also a perfect environment to enable her worst tendencies - there's no one left in it whose opinion she trusts that's willing to call her on her shit. Marquis doesn't see anything wrong with her behavior, Carol is trying to make up for a decade of neglect and unwarranted criticism, Mark just wants everybody to get along and be happy, and Riley and Rinke are pretty shaky on this whole human decency thing themselves! With a (not unjustified) pride in how far she'd come, a circle of willing enablers, a complete lack of moderating influences, and a bulletproof get-out-of-moral-culpability-free card, and two years to spiral, I find her backsliding to be completely believable. And given that Victoria is the fly in the ointment to all of this, that her continued refusal to have anything to do with Amy gives lie to Amy's belief that she can fix anything, and thereby puts the entire edifice of her self-rationalizations at risk, it also makes perfect sense to me that Amy would become fixated on her, on proving that she really can fix anything.

Of course, being believable isn't the same thing as being compelling. The thing that makes all this so resonant for me is that, at the end of Ward, after being this grasping spectre that haunts Victoria the whole book, after rejecting countless opportunities to demonstrate a hint of self-awareness or the slimmest motivation to change - Amy does. She sits down with a therapist. She rips off the band-aid - both the metaphorical one and the literal one made out of Victoria's skin, jesus christ Amy - looks at what she's done, at how she went awry, and resolves to do better. And we end with her in essentially the same place she was at the end of Worm: prepared to do better going forward and to make reparations as best she can. But the journey she has taken to get there gives the destination entirely new meaning for me. She's already fumbled her chance at redemption! But her journey gives lie to the idea that you only have one chance, or two, or any finite number! Every moment you draw breath is a chance to do better.

To me, Amy Dallon's arc in Ward shows that the most important step you can take is the next one, and no matter how many times you walk up and down that road, it never stops being true. And I find that compelling as hell.

[scariusaquarius]

rehab. 14.

Avenger! Bucky Barnes x Winter Soldier! Fem! Reader

Summary: While on a mission to find any more possible super soldiers that were a part of the Winter Soldier program, Steve and Bucky make a discovery in an abandoned HYDRA base that was cleared out a few years prior to their mission. They discover the Reader, a long-forgotten soldier that was still asleep within a functioning cryostasis pod; still awaiting orders. While Bucky isn't happy about it, he is put up to the challenge of helping to rehabilitate the soldier in Wakanda where she may be able to become a person again.

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A/n: Last chapter was pretty hard. Poor peter :(( and poor Bucky!! Let's hope we can get through to the soldier soon. Also, if you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee! If you would prefer to read Rehab on Archive, you may do so right HERE!

This is an au where Bucky joined the avengers but still rehabilitated in Wakanda (sometime before Infinity War [canon divergent cause NOPE]). I am NOT fluent in Russian, so I did use google translate cause I couldn't find a good translator that I trusted. If anything is wrong, PLEASE let me know!! Also, I tried to list as many warnings as possible so you know what the story will contain as chapters are posted. Stay safe!

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Genre: Slowburn, Enemies to Lovers/Friends to Lovers, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Humor, Drama, Dark Content Rated: Explicit Warning: Angst, Dark Content: Graphic Depictions of Sexual Assault, Blood and Gore, Mentions of Manipulation, Kidnapping, Canon-Typical Violence, Body Horror, Nonconsensual Body Modification/Scarring, Emotional and Physical Abuse, Mentions of Murder, Mentions of Suicidal Thoughts/Ideation, Graphic Depictions of Human Remains, Mentions of Sexual Coercion/Manipulation, Death, Misuse of Drugs/Forced Drugging, Self-Harm (Graphic Depictions and Mentions), Nightmares

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Author: ScariusAquarius

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rehab masterlist. chapter 10 / chapter 11 / chapter 12 /chapter 13

Tony Stark had never thought himself as a completely terrible person. He was a genius; a philanthropist with a humanitarian mindset; a scientist...and he could still make mistakes. Hell, Tony did it all the time with Pepper, with the Avengers, with Ultron and Sokovia. He was just bad at executing his good intentions.

Tony wasn't sure if he could say the same about his dad.

Although Tony adored his parents and his father was his biggest inspiration when he was young, Tony didn't remember a time where it wasn't hard to impress his father or to satisfy him. Howard had expected a lot of Tony, even when he first started showing a higher intellect than normal children had.

His mother had been the opposite. Tony could say that his relationship was a thousand times better with his mother, but Tony had deduced long ago that being her only son, it was expected of her to be doting and to spoil him however she could.

For a long time, Tony resented his father. He resented how hard he was on him, he resented how much pressure Howard put on him, he resented his fathers alcoholism that followed Tony later in life, and he hated that he never got to hear his father say he was proud of him until years after his death.

'What is, and always will be, my greatest creation... is you.'

For almost all his life, Tony hadn't ever heard his father say that he loved him. Honestly, if Tony had to think about it, he'd say that his father hated him with how he remembered his childhood.

And then he found the tapes, heard his father's voice, and everything came crashing down all over again. He was instantly reminded of what had happened to his parents, how he never even got to say goodbye, and Tony was just goddamn angry.

When he saw Bucky Barnes for the first time after finding out that he was the one who killed his parents, he had wanted to return the favor. It was the first time that Tony had ever wanted to actually kill someone besides Aldritch Killian, and that was a whole other can of worms Tony really didn't want to think about.

He still had nightmares about Pepper falling from his grasp that fateful night.

Now, Tony was being faced with his father's work all over again. Granted, there wasn't any way that Howard knew what was going happen until it was too late, but it bothered Tony ever since he learned about Project Rebirth and his dad's involvement and how he still went on to make more serums.

Tony was a genius, but he didn't understand a single damn thing about why his father did what he did. There just wasn't a clear explanation.

And Tony felt haunted by it.

He had seen the recorded memories the woman had; had seen the horrible things HYDRA had done to her; could still hear her pained wails as they cut her open and sewed her back up just to do it all over again.

Almost as a act of self-harm, Tony had forced himself to sit and watch every single minute of every single clip, stewing and horrified and becoming enraged by not just her experiences, the organization, or the nightmares that came after seeing the clips...Tony became enraged and confused at his father all over again.

He remembered Robert (L/n) and how much he didn't like the man. He never seemed happy and always had a mean sneer on his mustached face as if he was never satisfied with any work he did with Howard.

While Tony's father regarded Robert with high respects, the knowledge that Robert had been using him all along made Tony wonder that if he had said anything to his father about how sketchy Robert was, would his parents still be here today?

Would he be tinkering in the lab with his dad and making the flying cars Howard had aspired to make? Would his mother still make her delicious apple pie that she baked for special occasions? Would JARVIS still be here?

There were so many what if's that plagued Tony's mind, and irrationally, he wanted to blame the soldier as well. While Tony knew that she wasn't at fault and was a victim of her own father's sick agenda, it was almost easy to equate her to Bucky.

He still wasn't over it, and that's why being in the goddamn cold sucked ass.

While his suit was equipped with heaters that let him keep warm, it didn't take away from the difficulty of being able to see through the snow that was accumulating on his face.

Vision didn't seem to have a problem, seeing as his body was completely synthetic so he wasn't really able to feel temperature (or really much of anything), it almost made Tony jealous.

Hell, Bruce Banner being in the quinjet above them made him jealous.

"Tell me why I have to be outside like this again? I feel like I'm being singled out here."

Banner's voice came over the intercom, a slightly annoyed tone in his voice as he replied.

"Tony, if you say something about the cold again, I'm turning around and leaving."

"I'm just saying that it might be more considerate to let me inside and let Vision handle it from out here."

"Mr. Stark, if I may interject?"

Tony just huffed, and Vision added as he flew next to him, completely ignoring everything Tony had just said to instead shift the focus of the conversation.

"If we are able to locate Mr. Rollins, what is it that you intend to do with him? Given the history that Mr. Barnes has with HYDRA, would it be wise to bring this criminal back to Wakanda?"

Tony was torn. While he knew the risks of bringing Rollins to Wakanda, there was a darker and jaded part of his brain that didn't even care what Barnes would do. Hell, if anything, Tony hoped that (Y/n) would kill the man.

But as an Avenger, Tony couldn't exactly voice that. Glancing at Vision, Tony replied nonchalantly.

"Well, I can't say I'd exactly stop Barnes from playing a deadly game of Twister with the jackass, but I'm not gonna say that I'm condoning it...even if I am."

Vision pursed his lips slightly, a look of confusion spreading across his face as he glanced down at the ground below them with a thoughtful expression.

"I must admit that I am still learning the human behavioral patterns and the data streams of human emotion...so I am puzzled at why Mr. Barnes feels so strongly about this situation...let alone Steven Rogers."

Before Tony could respond with a snide remark, Bruce replied with a thoughtful explanation, stating with an understanding tone of voice.

"Well, if you look through Barnes' files, you'll understand the pattern and begin to know the why. Barnes was also a victim of HYDRA, theoretically either longer than this woman has been...possibly for the same length of time."

As Banner began to explain, Vision's eyes seemed to be lighting up with understanding as he listened.

"For a long time, and even now, he's been dealing with the thoughts and memories of his time with HYDRA. Hell, even to this day, he's still remembering and uncovering those dark times. It's one thing to be the one to experience these traumatic experiences...and it's another to be on the outside looking in. It's all about perspective, Vision."

Vision was quiet for a moment before he asked, making Tony and Banner fall into a state of surprise and stupor.

"Do you think he seeks to amend the wrongs he has done by willingly rehabilitating this woman? Despite the fact that it was Steven Rogers who suggested the idea, it wouldn't be entirely invalid to believe that Mr. Barnes is taking this opportunity to rectify his own experiences, let alone Ms. (L/n)'s."

Banner was the first to speak, Tony too deep into his thoughts to be able to give a good answer to Vision.

"Well, we don't really know that for sure. The only way to know would be to ask him, and I'm not sure that even he knows the answer. I think what is important is that he is willing to do so despite the traumatic experiences he also went through. It's better to have a friend...or to be one in a time of need."

"Thank you for your input, Dr. Banner. It is incredibly helpful."

Banner acknowledged him, and Tony took a deep breath, saying with mock relief.

"Thank, god. Great existential talk, everyone. I'm glad that we have all come to the understanding that Barnes is mentally ill, which was kinda already a given."

Although Tony couldn't see Banner's face, he knew the man was rolling his eyes at him, and FRIDAY's voice popped up, making Tony give his undivided attention to the AI.

"Mr. Stark, the HYDRA base is just up ahead. I am not detecting any activity. However, the base seems to be protected by the same type of energy shield that was used in Strucker's research facility located in Sokovia."

Tony hummed, shrugging slightly.

"Well, I guess we'll just have to knock on the front door like last time."

"You know, Tony, I have this really nagging feeling that it's not a good idea to knock on the front door."

Tony then deactivated his thrusters to begin falling down a large crevice within the Ross Ice Shelf that was emitting the signal of the energy shield, saluting Banner as he did so.

"Well, guess we'll just have to see. Let's just hope the service is like it was in Germany!"

"Tony!"

As he dropped into the crevice, it didn't take very long to see the ingenuity of the architecture and structural genius that went into ensuring a secret base. To Tony, it seemed as though the whole ice shelf was being held together by intricately-designed industrial ice anchors that were drilled and cabled together.

Despite the immensely inconspicuous location of the base, there didn't seem to be a single soul in sight. There were no lights on, no heat signatures, nothing. It was dead, cold, and barren.

It made Tony become suspicious and on edge.

"Mr. Stark, I'm not sensing any life inside of this facility."

"Yeah, I'm getting nothing on my sensors either. Banner, you see anything from up there?'

Banner was stressed, stating as the sound of the quinjet flying overhead reverbed down the Shelf and made Tony's spine tingle.

"Nada. It's completely dead up here as well."

Tony muttered, shaking his head slightly.

"That's never a good sign. Let's get in here and see what we've got. There might be something of importance. FRIDAY, where are the generators?"

"There are no traditional generators within the facility. This facility specifically functioned with hydropower. If you are able to get the hydroelectric system running again, you should be able to regain power."

Vision looked to Tony, nodding to him before phasing through the floor below.

"I will get that started for you."

Tony nodded, and he turned on a spotlight, looking around the facility. There was a good layer of ice and frost covering the inside of the facility; papers frozen in time; a HYDRA flag frozen mid-wave, and Tony had to admit: it was a bit spooky. As he looked around, he was startled by Pepper's ringtone echoing into his ear, and he took a deep breath as he answered.

"You have amazing timing, Pep, I was just thinking about how amazing this one place would be for a vacation."

Pepper Pott's voice was amused as she responded, Tony's racing heart calming just the slightest as he listened to her voice.

"Given how the last vacation went, I think I'm good. So, I followed up on that guy, Robert (L/n), like you asked, and I think I might have found something."

The lights in the facility suddenly kicked on, and Vision phased back into the room through the floor; not a spec of water on his body. Tony put Pepper on speaker as he removed his mask, his nose immediately becoming cold as he looked around the desolated facility.

"That sounds promising. What'd you find?"

"So, after Steve went under the ice, Robert left Stark Industries shortly afterwards and just kind of fell off the face of the earth. I asked myself 'why would a renowned scientist suddenly disappear unless he was secretly a bad guy'? So, I asked Shuri to send me the files that she had copied from the CIA, and it seems that around the time that (Y/n) became active, the CIA began their own super soldier project."

Tony frowned immediately, his eyes darting around as the gears within his head began to turn.

"Conveniently right after she became a part of the agency?"

Pepper hummed in agreement before she added.

"Not only that, but it seems that her and the current Director might have known each other at some point."

Tony paused, glancing down at a file that was frozen against one of the desks, and he frowned deeply. At the top was the name Project Achilles, and though the file was completely frozen and unable to be accessed without damaging it, Tony carefully pried the file off of the desk. Vision came to stand beside Tony, stating.

"The computers have sustained intensive damage due to the frost and ice that has accumulated within the consoles over time. I can attempt to search through the drives, but they might be beyond repair."

"If we can extract the floppy discs and dry them off as fast as possible before the moisture can damage them, then we'll be all set."

Vision hummed to himself, looking down at the consoles before his fingers phased through the plastic and metal. After a few moments, the sound of ice gently cracking and breaking echoed around them, and Vision was able to extract a floppy disc from the frozen console. Gazing at Tony, he stated.

"The casing sustained a bit of damage, but it is relatively unharmed."

Tony immediately grabbed it, stating.

"FRIDAY, you got hot air?"

"Yes, Mr. Stark."

As his gauntlet began to blast hot air at the floppy, rapidly drying it, Pepper's voice came through again.

"Shuri also told me that (Y/n) had a meltdown."

Tony immediately became anxious, his tone becoming furious as he asked.

"Is Peter alright? She didn't hurt him, did she? I shouldn't have trusted Barnes to keep him safe. I'm heading back right now."

"Hold on, Tony, you didn't even let me finish."

Tony pursed his lips, his brow furrowed deeply as he became quiet.

"Bucky was trying to get through to her and tried to show her the file, and she just seemed to start panicking and lashed out. Peter is completely unharmed, and Shuri told me that he's been watching over (Y/n) since the incident. Barnes needed to take a break for a while."

Tony felt a huge wave of relief go through him, and he sighed after a moment, his eyes closed and internally counting his breaths. Pepper continued after a moment of letting Tony breathe.

"Shuri sent the clip over."

A hologram showed up, the camera feed of the incident playing, and he was expressionless as he watched Barnes attempt to get through to the soldier. He could tell, however, that the woman was anxious and becoming agitated; especially when she gripped Bucky by his throat.

While the sight was alarming, Tony was as alarmed until he watched as (Y/n) began to cry.

"I don't understand. I...I....I'm malfunctioning...my programming is flawed. I...I need to be recalibrated...reprogrammed. I don't want to remember."

There was a feeling of apprehension filling Tony's body as he watched as Peter tried to make contact and ask about her family. When she threw the table at Peter, an undeniable feeling of defensiveness came over him, his chest tightening, and Tony clenched his jaw.

After a few more minutes of interaction, Tony could tell that she was starting to become too panicked. She wasn't thinking clearly; wasn't remembering details that were just spoken, and she was becoming scared.

Because of this, she finally lashed out, trying to attack Bucky but was restrained by said man. The screams and wails were horrific, and when she began to seemingly beg, Tony wasn't even sure if he wanted to read the translation that FRIDAY provided for him.

"Мне очень жаль. Прости, Кулак ГИДРЫ! Пожалуйста, не делайте мне больно. Я буду слушаться!"

I'm so sorry. I'm sorry, Fist of HYDRA. Please don't hurt me. I'll obey.

Tony clenched his hand, and Tony had finally had enough. He wasn't completely angry with Bucky, but he couldn't help to be. Tony understood that it was irrational to turn his anger towards the man, but all Tony could think about was his parents.

But as he watched Bucky's face turn into one of haunted horror, an expression and feeling that Tony knew all-too-well, Tony couldn't bring himself to be angry. He was just as much of a victim of HYDRA just like his parents. It wasn't Barnes' complete fault. It was just easy to blame him.

He watched as the horrified man left the lab, Peter running after him before coming back inside and carefully placing a chair next to (Y/n)'s sleeping body and looking over her with the saddest eyes Tony had ever seen Peter have.

Well, except for when Tony grounded him from the suit. That was a pretty rough day.

"Shuri told me that Peter hasn't left her side since Bucky ran off, and she's going to be upping the dose of the anesthetics in the mean-time. The stress of the situation caused a slight swelling at the site of the surgery, so Shuri wants her to stay sedated until then. She specifically stated that she doesn't want to put her back into cryostasis because it won't allow the wound to heal; it'll just freeze."

Tony nodded and he replied softly.

"Thanks, Pep, you did a great job today. I still think we should definitely get on a plane to Cancun or something once I leave Wakanda."

"We'll see about it. Love you, Tony."

Tony closed his eyes, comforted by the words, and he didn't hesitate to respond.

"I love you 3000. See you soon."

The line cut, and Tony handed the dry floppy disk to Vision and then clapped his hands.

"Alright. Let's scope the facility a bit more, gather anything else of significance, and get the hell out of here. I don't know how much more of this freezing cold my balls can take."

"W-What? I thought your suit was heated."

Banner's disgusted and confused voice sounded off, and Tony sighed.

"It only does so much before it gets uncomfortable. Alright? Do you want sweaty balls? Didn't think so."

Banner just sighed once more before asking.

"Can we just get this over with and go home?"

Tony nodded before he waved a finger in the area.

"Alright. Pack it up, everyone."

As Vision and Tony left the facility after extensively searching through everything and they both piled into the quinjet, Tony sat in a corner mostly to himself, staring down at the floppy disc within his hand. There was going to be something on this; something big, and Tony could feel it. He could feel the weight of the drive within his hand, and he could only hope that whatever information that was on this drive would be enough to finally get rid of HYDRA once and for all.

That his father and mother, and Tony's rage, could finally rest.

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STORY NOTES: Tony Stark reflects on the type of people his parents were. He reflects on how hard his father was to impress, how his father was incredibly pressuring towards Tony, even from a young age. He remembers how his mother, Maria Stark, had been the opposite of Howard and how doting and loving she was while growing up. Tony then reflects on his internal struggle of his resentment towards his father and the struggle to please him. He reflects on how much he resented Howard for his tough love, the crippling pressure, and Howard's struggle with alcoholism. He particularly remembers that not once had he heard his father tell him that he was proud and that he liked him.

Tony then reflects on Bucky Barnes and the anger and hatred he had felt for him for murdering his parents, how he had wanted to return the favor. Tony mentally remarks that despite being a genius, he still doesn't understand why Howard was apart of such a serious project like Project Rebirth and why he went on to create more serums. Tony reflects on how he had forced himself to sit and watch through every single memory of (Y/n)'s that had been recorded, watching the horrific things that HYDRA had done to her, and he becomes angry with his father all over again.

He then goes on to think about Robert (L/n) and how he didn't like the man growing up. He remembers how weird the man seemed to be, and Tony wonders that if he had said anything to Howard about how weird the man was, if it would have changed anything that had happened afterwards. He wants to blame the soldier as well, but he finds it hard to do so completely as Tony understands that she is a victim as well.

Outside of Tony's mind, he, Vision, and Bruce Banner are currently on the way to the Ross Ice Shelf in the Antarctic where the supposed HYDRA facility is located. While Bruce and Tony bicker, Vision begins to ask questions about Jack Rollins and what is the intention behind finding him. He makes a remark that with Bucky's intense history with HYDRA as well, Vision does not know if it would be wise to bring Jack to Wakanda.

Tony doesn't confirm nor deny that he would stop Barnes from hurting Jack Rollins if they are able to locate him, and Vision goes onto remark that he doesn't understand why Bucky and Steve feel so strongly about the situation itself. Before Tony can answer, Banner begins to explain to Vision that Bucky was also a victim of HYDRA, though they aren't certain for how much longer in comparison to the woman.

Banner goes on to tell Vision that Bucky is still suffering from the trauma of his time in HYDRA, and is even still remembering more things to this day. He makes sure to point out to Vision that being in the situation and being on the outside-looking-in are two completely different perspectives, and that can be difficult to digest. Vision then asks if Banner and Tony think that Bucky is trying to seek redemption for the wrongs he had done as the Winter Soldier in rehabilitating the woman, and Banner replies that he doesn't know and isn't sure if Bucky knows either.

After arriving at the HYDRA base located deep within the ice shelf, Tony is on edge due to the highly-inconspicuous location being barren of people. The whole base seems to be frozen in time, and when Vision goes to get the hydroelectric generators running, Pepper Potts calls Tony. She goes on to tell Tony that after Steve had gone into the ice, Robert had left Stark Industries and seemingly disappeared. However, after (Y/n) joined the CIA, the CIA began to work on their own super soldier project. Pepper also mentions that (Y/n) and the Director seemed to have known each other before she became a Winter Soldier.

Tony finds a file that is called Project Achilles, and although the file is completely frozen shut, he carefully pries it from the desk. Vision tells Tony that the computer consoles are all too damaged to be functional, but he can attempt to save whatever he can from the hard drives. Tony refutes and tells Vision that if they can retrieve the floppy discs without damaging them, they should be able to extract the data that way. Once Vision recovers a disc, Tony begins to dry it out while Pepper tells Tony that (Y/n) had a meltdown.

Tony begins to become anxious, worrying heavily over Peter's safety, and Pepper tells Tony to calm down and let her explain further. She goes on about how Bucky was trying to get through to her and show her the files they recovered of her, and she began to lash out. Pepper tells Tony that Shuri has sent the clip of the incident, and Tony watches it intensely. During the height of the incident, FRIDAY provides live translations of (Y/n)'s cries, and Tony reflects on his parents once more. He becomes enraged with Barnes again, but tells himself that Barnes is just as much of a victim as his parents were. After searching through the facility more, the three Avengers leave. End scene.

TRANSLATIONS:

Provided in chapter.

TAGLIST: @tilldeathripsusapart @vicmc624 @mgchaser @aash3 @samfunko @seventeen-x @valckenaux @babybeeelle @sc4rrc @cjand10 @bane-y-zane

[ewingstan]

I'm sympathetic to the argument that it'd just be repeating the same beats as Worm, but I'd argue that such a development would be fully consistent with the themes of Ward specifically.

Worm was highly interested with sacrificing and instrumentalizing others; Taylor struggling with having highly pro-social ends that she felt could only be accomplished by suspending her view of others as autonomous agents. Notably, it also ties into Taylor's arc of being willing to do more and more to feel in control.

Instrumentalization of others isn't absent in Ward; the Dallon's family conflict is largely driven by the ways Victoria and Amy have been raised to fill a certain mold public servants/celebrities rather than treated with the respect and affection appropriate for children. And this colors Victoria's relationship with Breakthrough, especially her concern for Kenzie. But rather than intentional sacrifice of others, its collateral damage that has been an overarching theme of Ward: needing to act to protect others, but being unable to do so without accidentally hurting others in the process.

This is Victoria's struggle to use the Wretch safely, Sveta's struggle to find a way to live her life without risking harm to others, Kenzie's struggle to get the affection she needs without accidentally hurting those around her. As expressed in this arc, its Victoria's guilt over accidentally injuring Carol. It's the discovery that Capes' use of powers has made The City unstable and in need of evacuation. It's the anxiety of not having control over the consequences of your actions, expressed as an extension of not feeling like your body or mind are your own, like they're alien and overwhelming.

This had already been explored with Teacher's thralls during the raid on cauldron HQ: we saw a squadron of heroes treat innocent thralls as enemy soldiers that needed to be dealt with lethally. Victoria worked to limit how many of them died when she could, but what I see as her central conflict is that she does make the effort and can't be fully successful. She's fighting to protect people, but despite her best efforts, she can't guarantee zero casualties in a battleground. Her desire to, and her inability to, has been a central point of tragedy in her characterization up to this point.

Now to your point, at this point the story may be gearing towards having Victoria overcome this. Her gaining greater harmony with the Wretch coincides with her feeling like clothes don't need to be treated as armor against the world, suggesting that she feels more at peace with her body. It also coincides with her ripping out the fingernail Amy healed, a reassertion of her body being hers (though its debatable whether that was being framed as triumphant or merely self-destructive). Moreover, it coincides with Byron gaining health and autonomy, and with Kenzie taking steps to manage her relationships. Breakthrough as a whole are finding their bodies and minds less alien and overwhelming, and relatedly are finding the consequences of their actions more within their control.

But if this is the interpretation we take, I'm not I see such a breakthrough (heh) as an appropriate development. It seems that Breakthrough has been having more and more of their individuating concerns put aside for cape interests, culminating in their adventures in shardspace where they were literally re-expressed through the lenses of a space focused solely on their costumed exploits. Given her childhood, this seems like it should only exacerbate Victoria's problems. At the very least, even if asserting herself as a hero beyond anything else could let Victoria take back some stable sense of identity, it seems like such a move should be framed as a coping mechanism more than a healthy end to a character arc.

17.1 highlights an important distinction between Taylor and Victoria can be found in 17.1. If Taylor had been told that she had killed thousands (at least) by killing Teacher, I doubt she'd think to deny it. Rather, she'd probably tell Defiant that it was worth it. She'd ask him whether they really thought they could take him down without killing him, argue that thousands dying with him was better than billions being enslaved by him. She wouldn't necessarily stay committed to this claim, and she might feel sick upon hearing the accusation, but faced with an external body's scorn she'd at least initially push back with righteous indignation. But importantly, it wouldn't initially occur to her that he'd be lying—she does not find the idea that she could do something terrible unbelievable.

[p0etic-l0ser]

His name is germ

[wisteriagoesvroom]

how each driver would respond to “would you love me if i was a worm” 🪱

(and you actually get turned into a worm)

charles leclerc: gets the whole ferrari team to take turns looking after the worm. there’s a care roster and a motivational talk and everything. you become not charles’s worm but the ferrari worm. he posts a really cool social media story about “my journey looking after the worm.” you are loved, if a bit haphazardly.

max verstappen: “do i have time to keep a worm? probably not. but i will get someone to get you a decent box i guess. sorry if my cats eat you.”

oscar piastri: “no. you’re a worm.”

lando norris: professes his love and says “of course i would, babe”. only to be away so much on holiday or busy on track that you eventually perish in your enclosure

lewis hamilton: yes and will get you the most beautiful box with all sorts of fronds and ferns. he will build you the cutest little jungle gym of mind-enriching worm activities. you will see him about once a year but he will make sure you’re always fed and happy. he will help raise awareness of worms in their ecosystems all over the planet

carlos sainz: actually is very good at keeping the worm/you alive but is thrown for a loop because charles and lewis are all doing exceptionally with their worms. he flushes you down the toilet in a moment of emotional distress

alex albon: doesn’t tell anybody about the worm but will eventually have the longest living worm although everyone will forget this fact.

george russell: holds a drivers meeting about whether it is ethical to keep worms and should they in fact be considered emotional support animals. the vote is split and the outcome is undecided

fernando alonso: makes a tiktok with you “day in a life with my worm”. then leaves you on the side of the road and you roast to death under the sun

lance stroll: begrudgingly looks after you for about a week after which he pawns you off to his sister who is now stuck with his random worm

kevin magnussen: gives the worm to his daughter who uses it for a school project. it’s very cute

nico hulkenburg: people forgot about him so he didn’t even get a worm. he’s not that sad about it.

zhou guanyu: would seem totally neutral about it but end up incorporating a worm design into his track fits and his helmets. his worm helmet goes super viral on weibo.

valtteri bottas: will use you for fishing bait and might be a bit sorry about it.

pierre gasly and esteban ocon: constantly fighting over the same worm. nobody knows that the other has the exact same one. it ends with the alpine TP stepping in and confiscating the worm. the worm somehow gets acquired by mclaren.

yuki tsunoda: he keeps you in a box that is structurally very questionable but yuki somehow finds time on the road to get you the highest quality worm feed and vegetables. you thrive under his gourmand care although he shakes the box way too hard sometimes

daniel ricciardo: changes you immediately for a caterpillar and hopes nobody notices. the caterpillar takes ages to turn into a butterfly and then people are asking bro i thought you got a worm. he gets a caterpillar tattoo.

sergio perez: couldn’t care less. thought you were roadkill stuck on his windshield and squishes you with the windscreen wiper by accident

logan sargeant: WHAT DA FUK IS A WORMMMMM? your worm life ends prematurely when logan accidentally drops your box on the floor. james vowles gets him a new worm and it remains to be seen whether the second worm is better (hopefully it is).

[im2tired4usernames]

Ugh I was excited for today until I found out I'd have to spend it with people that actively make me hate being alive hate the future and drain me off all energy physically mentally spiritually like a vampire I can't stand to be around her she is the definition of stupidity and even then that's generous as fuck this bitch has filled her brain with so much garbage I watch her brain cells die at alarming rates every single time she uses her vocal cords her giggles make me want to jam a sewing needle into my ear repeatedly so I can never have to hear it again its a friendly reminder that my parents decisions this time my dad's constantly makes me want to die

[kiki-strike]

PTSD is so stupid saw a jar of biscoff cookie butter at the store and went ha that’s the brand they had in res. (Completely unaffected). Then went home and had a panic attack about it (????)

[wormgoddess]

Worms for a puppy!

[mantisgodsdomain]

On the rare occasions when we talk about the spectre of veganism you can probably physically tell the amount of psychic damage that we take from seeing people throw out any part of a carcass.

[mazojo]

Oh worm

[thedevilsrain]

What’s the deal with Peter Grant???

sorry for the late reply, its been A Day

but, he was Ied zeppeIin's manager. he was always known for being an extremely intimidating, loudly abusive, greedy little man, he had this whole 'mafioso' persona (probably more than a persona, depending on how you take the whole 'taking underage women (groupies) on tours in a private plane' thing), to the extent that he inserted himself in the song remains the same movie to have a cameo as a werewolf mafioso

in the same movie he's shown yelling his brains out at a venue owner because people outside were selling "pirated posters" of Ied zeppeIin (aka printed paper), and lastly theres this perhaps infamous quote by ritchie blackmore where he basically goes "yeah bonzo didnt want to be in the band anymore but grant wanted to keep making money so he bribed him with cars"

and bribe him he did! and then john bonham died at 32

[more-than-tender-curiosity]

thoughts on the great gatsby musical (the one going to broadway next month) ?

-🎵

Words. Cannot express. My disdain. My disappointment. My general frustration with that production. I have the jeremy jordan tag blocked on tumblr now. Praying to god Miss Florence Welch pulls through with her musical. I bet SHE read the book.

[exex-lovers]

Marvin, could we have a Dad joke?

We took Worm to the park, but when we walked by the pond, all of the ducks started biting her!

Must be because she's a pure bread.

-Marvin

[worldrenownedsturgeon]

The douchebag scoffed, but at this point I was tired of just letting this twerp yammer on. "Oh please, how is a creation affinity going to do me any har-"

Before they could finish their statement, I took a deep breath, and pulled as much buzzing, jittering energy into my palm as possible. Pointing it all at my victim target, I screamed, "I CAST BRAIN TUMOR!"

My declaration turned spell hit its mark, I could feel it, but the fun thing about these kinds of curses was that it was hard to check for them on the spot, and especially without the proper tools. As everyone stared at me, wondering if I actually just did that, I took a moment to admire my opponents expression. Their eyes bugged out of their head like some weird frog, and their face had turned sheet white.

I decided not to think too hard about the morals of what I just did, after all, they were kind of threatening everyone in the entire school.

At the entrance ceremony, a special magic orb displays one’s magical affinity. For the first student, it says ‘Fire’. For the second student it says ‘Wood’. When you touch it, the word ‘Creation’ appears, but no one has ever heard of that before.

[loveanddeepthroat]

Trouble

Pairing - Sylus x f!MC

Summary - As it turned out, lavish events in the N109 Zone were not quite your thing, and this one did nothing but prove it. You weren’t looking for trouble, but it often had a way of finding you.

Word Count - 6.4k

Warning - MDNI. 18+. Oral sex f!receiving. Fingering. Light bondage. Mention of murder.

You were in trouble.

Not that it was immediately bothering you. You were having a good time—it wasn’t your fault that the rest of your companions were quite clearly not.

And besides, it wasn’t as if you were breaking any rules. Sylus had simply advised that you remain where he and the twins could see you upon your arrival at the lavish event, and that’s exactly what you were doing.

Whilst you watched a delectable cocktail being made for you at the bar as per a stranger's request, the three sets of eyes in various places around the room burned holes in your head as they watched you and the nameless man like a hawk. You only threw a few glances at each of them, catching Luke waving the tips of his fingers against his neck in a warning to get away from the guy.

You did no such thing, however. Listening to people kissing Sylus’s ass to stay out of his warpath had quickly bored you half to death, and some stimulation was very necessary for your withering attention span. You didn’t think much of the man who had approached you at the bar. He was dressed up like every other guy in the room, but he held a familiar air of dominance around him. Just as a certain silver haired man fuming a dozen metres away did.

The man ordered you what he deemed as being the best cocktail you would ever drink, along with an identical one for himself. One sip had led to another, your glass completely drained in a matter of a few seconds. He had another one raring to go before your glass landed back on the mahogany bar.

“Didn’t I tell you? The perfect cocktail.” The slight grin he shot you revealed two golden teeth that replaced his natural canines. You imagined the man would be quite intimidating to look at for most, but you took down Wanderers for a living. He’d need to do a lot more than flash his expensive gold fangs at you to make you feel threatened.

Not that you were getting that impression from him in the first place. He actually seemed rather pleasant.

“It’s delicious,” you agreed, already starting on the second.

He perched himself on the stool beside you, taking a sip of his own as he studied you for a moment. “You came with Sylus, huh?”

You nod, not seeing any harm in answering truthfully. “Is it obvious?”

The man chuckled. “His eyes are like lasers through my skull,” he crooned. He turned his head to wiggle his fingers in greeting to your companion. You didn’t dare turn to look in the same direction. “So, what are you doing on your little lonesome, darling?”

A shiver ran up your spine at the pet name. It was almost as if Sylus had caused it as a warning to you. You could feel his patience thinning by the second.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” you responded, starting to feel a bit like a worm in the sights of a crow. 

Although you weren’t entirely sure which of the two men were making you feel so much pressure all of a sudden.

A blaringly obvious hand shot in the air a little distance behind the silver-eyed man beside you, catching your attention. Kieran had attracted more than just your attention as he threw his thumb back over his shoulder, eagerly coaxing you away from the man.

It was time to wrap things up.

You finally took the hint and slipped off of the barstool and onto your stilettos, your movement mirrored by the man before you. A large hand landed upon your shoulder, causing you to freeze up. At first, you thought it was his hand clamped there, but the sheer size and strength as it gave you a small squeeze was immediately recognisable.

Sylus.

Putting your face in one of the large fireplaces in the room sounded more appealing than looking up at him at that moment, so you kept your gaze on the sly smirk now spreading across the shorter male’s face.

“Sylus. It’s about time our paths crossed tonight,” he crooned. Gone was the admittedly quite charming face you had been accompanied by, replaced with one that could be compared to that of a viper. 

This man was not someone you should have engaged with.

Sylus’s firm grip remained on your tensed shoulder, anchoring you to him. His voice was cool and indifferent, like he was already bored by the idea of conversing with the individual.

“If you fancied my attention, Frank, all you had to do was say,” he drawled.

Frank cocked his head to the side, his silver eyes dropping to your chest. You suddenly felt a little overexposed in the plunged neckline of your fitted black dress.

“I was just on my way to you when I stumbled upon a lonely little stray,” Frank purred, his cold, lingering gaze finally flickering back up to your face.

Hiding the disgust in your expression was difficult, but you had a feeling it would be wise to at least try. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed the twins standing together, watching the situation unfold. They were always ready to get involved if required.

Sylus chuckled, not one iota of humour in it. “I didn’t take you for the type of man to take pity on a stray kitten,” he said flatly. “Especially one with its collar on.”

He slipped a long finger into the chain of your ruby encrusted choker, giving it the smallest of tugs. You didn’t hate it, and honestly, you felt it more in the pit of your stomach than you did in your neck. Now didn’t seem like the time to think on that, mind.

The backs of his fingers smoothed over your racing pulse as he pulled the digit back out of the small space in your tight neckpiece. You shivered quite noticeably, the sensation awakening the pulse between your thighs.

“As you can see, this one is already taken care of.”

You didn’t miss the flare of hostility in Frank’s silver eyes as he followed every movement of Sylus’s hand—even as it moved to hang from his trouser pocket with his thumb tucked inside.

“Maybe you should keep her on a shorter leash. Anyone could have gotten their hands on her,” Frank said tightly. It sounded awfully identical to a threat. “This is hardly the room full of people you would want to lose such a precious little thing in.”

Sylus didn’t respond. Instead, he grabbed your arms and moved you to the side, away from Frank’s cold glare. Before you could even react, two strong arms either side of you hooked your arms with their elbows.

Luke and Kieran practically dragged you away, your feet struggling to keep up. As soon as you were released from their bone crushing clamps for inner elbows, you turned back to the interaction you were just kidnapped from.

Only to find the space completely empty.

“Okay, either you’re blind or really, really stupid,” Luke scolded.

You frowned back at him, crossing your arms over your chest. “Excuse me?”

“No, we won’t excuse you,” he snapped. “We’ve spent the last ten minutes thinking up different ways to dispose of your body after Frank was done with you.”

“Honestly, woman. Do we have to take you over the basic commands, again? I looked like a tool flapping my arms at you!” Kieran chimed in, looking like he was telling off a toddler.

Unsure whether it was the alcohol or their incessant rambling, you were starting to feel quite overwhelmed. You weren’t sure what they had seen differently while you were sitting with Frank, but you knew that the man had to have had a sinister intention for occupying you.

“Wait, wait,” you cut them off as Luke started to scold you again. “Shouldn’t we go find them?”

They both stared at you for a moment before bursting into obnoxious laughter. You weren’t sure what the joke was, but you were confident you wouldn’t find it funny even if you did.

If Sylus had gone off alone with the unfriendly man, then surely he would need the three of you there, too.

“You’re lucky you still have a tongue in your mouth to be able to make dumbass suggestions like that,” Luke sneered, still shaking from his chuckles.

You clenched your fists at your sides, irritated by their insults. How were you supposed to know that Golden Teeth was an enemy? You weren’t exactly well versed in the good and the bad when it came to attending events in the N109 Zone.

If they were that concerned, they could have remained beside you.

Each minute that passed without a visual on Sylus felt like an eternity, but in reality, only three minuscule minutes went by before he emerged from a door beside the bar.

His facial expression gave away absolutely nothing, but the red split in his lip did. You swallowed as you watched his tongue peak out to run over the small laceration, followed by the pad of his thumb. It disappeared in an instant at his touch.

You began to walk towards him, curious about what the hell had just happened, and if Frank was still breathing. Before you could open your mouth, however, he bent at the waist the second he got close to you, his shoulder connecting with your stomach as he hauled you off of your feet.

“What the—what the fuck are you doing?!”

He did not dignify you with a response as he stormed towards the exit, his solid arm squeezing your knees into his ribs as you started to assault his back. 

“Put. Me. Down,” you grit between harsh slaps to his back. You might as well have been flicking his ear for all the difference it was making.

He carried you straight out of the building and towards the matte black saloon car Kieran had driven you all in earlier that evening. You were utterly furious and embarrassed, doing everything in your power to wriggle out of his hold.

“I can walk!”

Sylus snorted. Snorted, like it was funny. No humour lay in his tone as he spoke, though. “Well that’s a little hard to believe.”

You whacked his muscled back again. “Meaning?!”

He yanked open the back door of the car, practically dropping you into it on your back. You felt it again, at the worst possible time.

That flutter of lust in your core.

It was something about the way he stood over you as you panted from the physical exertion of trying to fight his spine. He must’ve been able to see up the short skirt of your dress, and you hoped to god he didn’t spot any indication of your arousal on the cherry red thong you were wearing.

“Meaning, you had plenty of opportunity to use these apparent walking skills when your safety was threatened,” he growled, moving your legs so he could slam the car door, not interested in anything you had to say back.

You huffed as you pushed down on the unfolded mass of clothes in your backpack, trying to fit them all in.

It had been hours since you all got back from the absolute disaster of a night, and you had been holed up in the room you were occupying since then. Part of you expected Sylus to come and explain what the hell his problem had been, but he didn’t.

The longer you sat and dwelled on it, the more you wanted to go home. You only came to stay because he’d asked you to attend the event with him. He hadn’t mentioned that you were expected to stay by his side like an obedient dog. Nor had he bothered to mention the types of people you were to avoid.

Not only were you pissed at him, but you were pissed at the fact that he’d made you feel a certain way. Who in their right mind gets aroused by a man embarrassing you by hauling you out of a room full of people—likely with your bare ass on show. 

Scientists would have a field day with your brain.

And although you hated to admit it, it wasn’t the first time you had felt that familiar feeling of lust at his touch. The last time you had stayed, you had to relieve yourself in the shower after training with him in the ring. Every inch of him was sculpted with perfect precision, almost as if an architect had dedicated their life to working on his blueprint.

If you were being honest, you weren’t bothered about the event he wanted you to attend when he’d asked you to join him. You just wanted to see him.

But at the end of the day, you had no idea where you belonged in his world. In Linkon, a friendly face buying you a drink wasn’t something to be feared. It was exhausting having to recluse whenever you accompanied him anywhere. 

The clasps of your bag struggled as you tried and failed to clip them together. You had no idea how you were getting back to your apartment, but you were confident in your ability to just suck it up and figure it out. Even if you had to trek there in your most expensive pair of (uncomfortable) stilettos.

You slipped your feet out of them, throwing your barely closed bag over your shoulders before picking the silky, red shoes up. They’re far too noisy against Sylus’s marble floor for you to be able to slip out without being accosted by him or the twins.

Without so much as a squeak, you gently turned the doorknob, pulling the door slowly to peer down the long hallway. Nobody could be seen or heard, so you slipped out and carefully closed the door behind you to not draw suspicion.

You hurried yourself down the hallway to get to the front door, stopping dead in your tracks as you turned the corner. 

Mephisto was perched outside of Sylus’s bedroom door, his beady red eyes on you in an instant. Like hell was the glorified magpie going to let you pass him without kicking up a fuss.

“If you keep your scrap-metal beak shut, I’ll be out of your feathers. Got it?” Your voice was a whisper, but you knew he could hear you.

He did not make a sound as you slowly passed him, keeping your eyes on his as he followed your every move across the luxury floors. By the time you had passed him, you were fully convinced that he was willing to let you go. The minute you took your eyes off him, though, he started to screech.

“CAW! CAW!”

“Oh for fuck sake! You couldn’t just work with me for once in your—”

“CAW!”

“I wasn’t finished you squawking little—”

You were cut off by Sylus’s door opening, his unamused expression still ever present on his face. He was freshly showered, silver hair dripping onto the bare expanse of chest showing between the lapels of his bathrobe. You had to swallow a noise that rudely made its way up from your suddenly dry throat.

Eyes as red as the rubies around your neck flickered between Mephisto, you, and the bag over your shoulder. He clicked his fingers, sending his winged companion away.

“I was under the impression that you were above cussing out mechanical crows,” he drawled, leaning his shoulder against the doorframe.

It wasn’t clear whether or not he was joking, considering the less-than humorous look on his face. Either way, you weren’t in the mood for it.

“I’m going home.”

“I can see that,” he responded immediately, nodding towards your barely closed bag. “And how, exactly, are you planning to get there?”

You crossed your arms over your chest, feeling a bit like a teenager who’s just been caught sneaking out to a party. “I’ll figure that out myself.”

Holding his cold stare wasn’t usually a challenge for you, but you found yourself desperate to look away. You had compared Frank’s domineering aura to Sylus’s earlier, but it didn’t actually come close to the man before you. 

You had seen men and women strapped with weapons that could swiftly eliminate even the most dangerous of Wanderers cower at the sight of Sylus. He was the true definition of a force to be reckoned with.

He raised a lazy eyebrow at you, his hand slipping into the pocket of his robe. “You’re not leaving without a ride home. You’re over the limit, and if I wanted you to be skinned alive walking through the N109 Zone, I’d open the front door for you.”

“You give me a lift then,” you rebuked, your patience already thinning.

Sylus offered half a shrug. “I could, but I don’t make a habit of going out half naked.” You hoped to the lord that he didn’t see your shiver at the fact that he was only concealed by a thin robe. “You’re welcome to ask Luke and Kieran.”

“And where are they?”

The corner of his lip curled so subtly that you almost didn’t see it. “Out.”

You growled at his relaxed attitude. Why the hell would he even suggest it if they weren’t around?

“They’re cleaning up a mess of mine,” he answered as if you had asked.

A chill ran through you. “Would that mess happen to be Frank’s body?”

Sylus turned away from you, strolling into his room. You weren’t entirely sure why, but you followed him in, suddenly wanting answers.

“Well?”

Dark tendrils coiled around the bag on your back, gently tugging it down your arms and carrying it out of the room, closing the door on the way out. You had a feeling your belongings were heading back to where you just came from.

Sylus fiddled with the sleek black turntable in the corner of the room, carefully setting a vinyl record into place. It was a stark contrast to the way he’d hauled you into the car.

“You’re aware of the saying, right? Curiosity killed…” he trailed off, putting the pin in its place upon the record.

You frowned at his back. “The cat?”

He blew out a short laugh, not an ounce of humour in it. “The crook.”

He turned back towards you, slowly making his way to where you were a little rigid by the door. There was that feeling again. That you were a worm in the sights of a crow.

“Tell me,” he crooned, stopping right where your forehead would connect with his heart if you took half a step forward. “What was it about Frank that had you feeling adventurous, hm?”

You forced yourself to look up at him, feeling your cheeks heat at how close you were. “What do you mean?”

“Kitten, I can read you like the nervous wrecks who attempt to double cross me. Don’t play dumb, it does not suit you.”

His eyes were fierce and serious, but you hadn’t a clue what he was getting at. Your silence only lasted a few seconds before he leaned towards your shoulder.

“What was it that attracted you to him?” He whispered so quietly that you just about heard him over the thrum of your rapid heartbeat.

Attracted to him? In the approximately two minutes you had spent with Frank at the bar, you hadn’t spoken more than ten words to him. 

You stepped away, your back connecting with the door immediately. Even with the slight gap, his look over your much smaller form was rather harrowing. And yet you felt that unhelpful flutter in your core again, so strong that your knees wobbled in place. What was this man doing to you?

“Did you hit your head this morning?” You bit back, clenching the muscles of your thighs tightly to relieve some of the pressure there. “You think that I had an eye for him because he bought me a drink?”

He closed the gap again, his large palm resting against the door right beside your head. “Why else would you not walk away when you were quite blatantly warned to do so.”

“Maybe because I was tired of—” you cut yourself off before you could finish. 

You had told yourself that the reason you hadn’t wanted to remain at his side was because you were tired of watching people practically tremble in his presence.

Now, though, you weren’t sure that was the sole reason.

Every woman in that damn room had an eye on him, and it had made you feel…strange. You weren’t typically a jealous person by nature, but tonight had proved you capable of such emotions. In fact, you were practically tearing the heads off of beautiful women in your mind, wanting to punish them all for having the audacity to look at him like he was a piece of meat.

Maybe you and him weren’t so different after all.

He cleared his throat pointedly. “Tired of…?”

You huffed rather childishly, turning your head away from his hard stare. “Of the attention that certain people were giving you,” you begrudgingly admit. 

There was no use lying to him, since falsely having him believe that you were actually interested in Frank seemed like a sure way to get on his bad side—if you weren’t already on it.

With his hand that wasn’t resting beside your head, he took a hold of your jaw, carefully turning your face back to his. “And would these people happen to be women?”

You merely shrugged, having no desire to discuss the matter any further.

Sylus studied you for a moment, contemplating. He looked as if he couldn’t decide between scolding you or shaking some sense into you. You were almost shocked that he didn’t go straight to mocking you, but you had an inclination that he had felt the same thing whilst you sat at the bar with one of his enemies.

He dropped his head beside yours again, murmuring in your ear. “If you wanted my attention, sweetie, I would have given it to you.”

You almost moaned, his breath tickling the sensitive column of your throat. Lifting a hand, you grabbed onto his wrist to steady yourself, only for him to pull out of your grasp immediately.

A flash of fear shot through you at his sudden rejection, but it was almost immediately soothed as he pried your fingers open enough to slip his own between them, pinning your hand to the door. 

“Do you have any idea the kind of danger you could have been in tonight?” It was a growling question that didn’t require an answer. You felt your breath pick up in pace, the swollen peaks of your nipples skimming the top of his abs every time your chest heaved. “Frank has been known to have a string of disappearing acquaintances. He wouldn’t hesitate to maim you out of spite to me.”

You shuddered at the thought of being so close to a killer. And yet the proximity between you and Sylus did not give you that same feeling of dread. You know that he has killed many before, and despite not having his death confirmed or denied just yet, you knew that Frank was now somewhere in the afterlife, hopefully being accosted by the people he had killed.

You knew, but you had to ask.

“Did you kill him because I was speaking to him?”

Sylus shook his head, pulling back just enough that he could look you in the eyes. “I killed him because it was long overdue. I’ve had men who have been sent out to keep an eye on that bastard, and many of them did not return,” he explained quietly, a hint of frustration in his tone. “If I had taken my eyes off of you for a second—”

He audibly swallowed, cutting himself off. You could easily guess what he was going to say, and clearly the mere thought of it was haunting him.

A wash of guilt fell over you. If you had just walked away when you were told, he wouldn’t have had to do anything.

“He wasn’t going to take one more person from me,” he finally gritted.

That very thought should have filled you with dread. It should have made you sick to your stomach.

But the mention of his eyes on you for every second you weren’t beside him caused a spreading warmth to grow in your chest. Despite the situation you hadn’t realised you were in, you had been safe that whole time under his watch.

“I would have thought you’d be glad to get me out of your hair,” you said, only half joking to diffuse the tension between you.

He didn’t seem amused by it at all, his grip on your hand tightening. “Like I said, kitten. If I wanted you dead, I’d be seeing you out of the front door instead of standing here, resisting urges I have no right to have.”

Your thighs pressed together again at his whispered confession. His eyes always warned of danger, but they were gleaming with desire. 

You were not losing out on him tonight.

With the most tender of touches, you ran the tips of your fingers over his exposed chest with your free hand, feeling his steady breath falter. He swallowed thickly, suffocating your hand in his against the door. 

“I apologise,” he whispered gruffly, his head dipping to where your collarbone was visible to him in the neckline of your dress. 

You shuddered as his breath danced across your clammy skin, droplets from his wet hair falling against your chest. “For what?”

“Handling you the way I did.” His lips were mere inches away from you, and it took all your strength not to grab the back of his head and slam his face into your chest. “The thought of that bastard doing something—”

“Kiss me.”

Sylus didn’t give you a chance to cringe at your own slip up as every inch of him pressed you into the door, his mouth attacking your pulse with expert precision. You let loose a shaky moan, your nails scratching down his rock hard pectoral.

Every ounce of animosity you had been harbouring since the event dissipated at his touch. He was rough and unrelenting, his indistinguishable power overwhelming you in the most delicious way possible.

“Lower,” you breathed softly, wanting him everywhere.

You weren’t sure how he heard you, but he obeyed your hushed command. In one swift movement, his free arm clutched you around your waist, lifting you up. Both of your legs perched perfectly either side of him, suffocating his waist.

With his newfound access to your already exposed chest, he immediately got to work, sucking and biting at the thin layer of skin over your collarbones. The pain of sharp teeth sinking into flesh married faultlessly with undeniable pleasure, causing you to writhe against him. 

A firm bulge pressed against your heat as he ground himself against your cunt. Even with the sensation being drastically muted by the material of your thong and his robe being between you, you appreciated the absolute weapon he was concealing beneath his nightly attire.

“Ah—” you gasped, the soft sound immediately erased by a sharp hiss as he sunk his teeth into your skin again.

His mouth slowly travelled down to the tops of your breasts, where he pressed uncharacteristically tender kisses to each one. You were a wriggling, desperate mess already, but he was still sane enough to take a moment to study your chest.

“I have always appreciated art,” he crooned.

He removed the arm that held you around your waist, purely holding you up with his lower body alone. Your breasts were granted a sweet release as he pulled the thin straps of your dress down, pulling the material out of his way like a man depraved.

It was the look in his eye. A million compliments that didn’t need to be put into words. You could see them. Hell, you could feel the utter captivation radiating from him.

Your free hand smoothed over the delicious muscle of his shoulders before curling around the back of his neck. With a swift yank of his head, his mouth locked onto one of your firm nipples. Back arching off of the door, you cried out as his tongue swirled and flicked the sensitive area, leaving you a little mindless.

He finally let go of your hand, hungry to feel more of you. One hand pushed up your thigh, the skirt of your dress riding up with the movement before he squeezed your hip. The other cupped your neglected breast, thumb brushing over your pert nipple as if it were the joystick on a gaming console. Up, down, left, right, and all over again. 

It was almost too much, and yet you still wanted more. He ground himself against you again, your head slamming back against the door with a reverberating thud. You felt it this time. The thickness of his solid shaft, followed by the damp sensation of your arousal.

You needed him there. Now.

“Mm—” you mumbled pathetically, unable to get a word out.

Sylus chuckled against the breast he was feasting on. “What was that, sweetie?”

All you could do was wriggle yourself against his cock, hoping to convey a message to him without the need to trip over your words. You wanted to swallow up every inch of it with your warmth, leaving it glowing like a damn firefly with the glistening sheen of your essence.

“I know that pretty mouth of yours can talk,” he whispered against the column of your throat. “Tell me what you want.”

Your mouth was dry, like the space between your legs had stolen your saliva to lubricate you further.

“More.”

Sylus clicked his tongue. “There are nicer ways to ask.”

You knew he wasn’t being serious, but you would have begged on your knees at this point. He had to have felt your legs trembling against his waist, aching for him to fill you.

“Since you haven’t specified…” he began, pulling his head back completely.

For a second, you thought you had actually irritated him. There was a darkness in his stare, a hunger. You couldn’t figure it out, but it didn’t matter once the dark tendrils of his Evol snaked around your arms, dragging them up above your head. Your eyes widened.

Was he going to leave you tied up here?

“Do you trust me, sweetie?”

Any sane person being restrained against a door by the literal epitome of bad news himself would have frantically shook their head.

But you didn’t. You trusted him with every damn crevice of your soul.

“Y-yes,” you stammered.

He brought up a hand to stroke your side before hooking it under your thigh, along with the other one. One swift lift had you hurtling upwards, as if you weighed no more than a spaniel puppy.

Your legs were quickly on his shoulders, securing him a front row seat to your soaked thong. Getting any wetter had to be impossible, but your position was serving to give it a good try. Wrists tightly secured above your head, your legs wrapped around his neck, and his warm breath fanning over your damp thighs.

No throne in the most lavish palace on earth would be more tempting than this seat of yours.

His crimson eyes flickered up to your face, a flash of uncertainty in his gaze. “Is this where you want me?”

You nodded rapidly before his hand came up to hold your jaw, halting your wordless answer.

“Words please, kitten,” he requested.

“Yes,” you breathed. “Please, Sylus.”

He grinned, an unnerving and yet exciting sight. Wasting no time, he gripped the flimsy material of your cheap thong, tearing it at the seams to grant himself access to your bare cunt.

There was no teasing. No small pecks to your inner thighs. Not even a warning before his hot, balmy tongue lapped up a line of your juices through your folds, slowly dragging over the bundle of nerves nestled within. It took him no time at all to figure out where that heavenly little mound was, as if he knew your body like the back of his veiny hand.

Teeth. Tongue. Lips. All three of them fighting brutally for their moment on your clit, as if he couldn’t figure out which to use first. Your brain could hardly keep up with the flitting between this and that. All you knew was that you didn’t want it to stop.

Your legs tightened around his head in a bone-crushing squeeze. The suffocation only served to push him further, like he was fuelled by the possibility of having his jaw crushed like a damn walnut between your thighs.

“I could think of worse ways to go,” he growled against your hole, nose buried deeply into your folds to inhale your scent.

He pressed further into you, his tongue penetrating you with a greedy lick down your plush walls. Your hips jolted of their own accord at the sensation. He was your puppet master, making you grind and flinch on demand with his calculated actions.

The more his tongue slid in and out of you—the tip of his nose perfectly hitting your clit every time—the more of him you wanted inside of you. 

Gone were your soft, airy moans. You were crying out to whoever would listen, announcing to the world beyond the walls that you were being fucking devoured by the most feared mouth in the N109 Zone.

A mouth that could bring grown men to their trembling knees with one mere bark of an order.

You were drunk on it.

He slowly withdrew his tongue, immediately swallowing. “Like candy,” he murmured.

He licked at his lips, eyes trained on the concoction of his saliva and your fluids with awe. His hand shifted from where it had still been gripping your thigh, the soft pads of his fingers tracing circles around your hole for lubrication.

“Can you handle them?” He didn’t look up as he asked, fixated on the patterns he was repeatedly drawing through your folds.

“Mhm,” you mumbled.

He clicked his tongue. “Words.”

“Yes.”

He seemed to make quite the habit of just diving in as soon as he had permission. In one swift push, he impaled you on his lengthy index finger, his knuckles pressing against your pelvic bone.

You cried out towards the ceiling. “Fuck!” 

“You must’ve had some pretty disappointing experiences down here, sweetie,” he purred. “You’re so very tight.”

Every muscle in the lower half of your body was quivering with need, your hips unable to still themselves. He wasn’t wrong, nobody had ever truly left you gasping or crying out to the heavens.

You had a feeling he was about to change that.

Slowly, he dragged the digit back out, making sure to scrape down on your walls as he did. He began a steady rhythm, plunging his finger in and out of you lazily. His eyes held a repertoire of fascination, as if he’d been dreaming up this moment for quite some time.

He didn’t rush to add the second digit, but as soon as he did, you lost all sense of reality. The curling and pounding was precise and calculated, every brush of your neglected g-spot extracting a whimpering moan from you.

“Ngh…oh fuck,” you managed through a shuddering breath.

“Good girl,” he praised huskily. “I want to feel you come undone. Can you do that for me, darling?”

If he kept talking to you like that, it was going to happen a lot sooner than he would expect. The mental challenge of holding back was near impossible, and seemed to be displeasing him.

He picked up his pace. Firm, brutal bucks of his hand giving you every push towards that edge that you were trying to keep a distance from. You were yanking at the tendrils gripping your wrists, crying out pathetically at the sheer velocity of his fingers.

“I hope you’re not holding back on me,” he warned quietly.

He wanted you to finish. He was so very desperate to feel your release that he was practically shoving you towards it.

You couldn’t deny him.

The building pressure in your core gave out as you orgasmed, a litany of thuds marrying the sounds of your pleasured cries whilst you writhed against the door. Sylus, at the feeling of your walls contracting around his fingers, became a little breathless himself. He didn’t slow his pace, helping you ride out the waves of pleasure until your very last whimper. 

By the time you had caught your breath, the restraints on your hands slowly loosened, and you expected to be put back down onto solid ground.

Instead, Sylus brought his mouth back to your folds, clearing up the aftermath of your first real orgasm. He was slow and gentle, savouring the taste like a vintage bottle of wine.

He was gentle when lowering you back to the floor, your legs trembling beneath you. You kept a hold of his arms, looking up at his hazy eyes. Anyone would think that he’d been the one on the receiving end of oral sex.

You wanted to give back. You wanted to see everything beneath his robe.

And apparently, your need was rather obvious.

“Not tonight, kitten,” he murmured, fixing your dress to cover your exposed body.

You didn’t know if you were more perplexed or hurt. Why not tonight? Did he not see you capable enough of being able to return the favour?

He brushed a strand of your unruly hair behind your ear in a contrasting manner to how he’d been handling you earlier. “I won’t know when to stop.”

You shuddered at the thought. “I’m okay with that.”

It wasn’t a lie. He could bend you over the railing of the balcony for the whole city to see, and you wouldn’t bat an eyelid.

But he wasn’t budging, the corner of his glistening lips curling upwards at your eagerness. “I don’t doubt that.” 

He leaned towards your ear, his voice a low whisper.

“But it’s going to take a lot more than my saliva and your sweet fluids to help you take me, sweetie.”

[deerspherestudios]

I LOVE ATOM SO MUCHHHHHHHHH I knew they were going to be a bunch of worms and honestly they're my new HEAR ME OUTTTTTTTTTTTT

I adore your new game! The sound effects were lovely chosen! And the art amazing! Especially that body horror! Question question! What if Mychael and Atom met? And what if they both have the same yn? Who would win in a fight for yn basically?

HI AGAIN; first of all knowing Atom is someone's hear me out is a HUGE compliment omg,, and thank you!! Surprisingly a lot of people didn't expect the twist (if I could call it that, I felt like I couldn't be subtle about it even if I tried haha) but knowing it caught people off guard makes me happy <3

I ramble about it below but short answer: Atom would win, sorry Mychael. 💔 Also Alma cameo.

Atom and Mychael having the same MC is definitely possible. Both games feature kindhearted MCs as the protagonists (or at least I try to write them that way! Since kindness is the trait they're attracted to) so the chances of both falling for the same individual in this alternate setting is highly likely haha.

I know the ask is between Atom and Mychael, but now that I have like,, three non-human love interest characters I'll include Alma too since it is kinda fun to compare the three.

Despite being the most popular, I think Mychael would get his ass beat by both Atom and Alma. His hypnosis and mind-altering powers are useless against them both, like how do you even brainwash a specter and a can of worms? Meanwhile they can completely annihilate him if they wanted to with Alma's shapeshifting and supernatural influence and Atom's,,,uh,,, skills,,,

You'd think a being associated with rot and decay (mushrooms) would have a chance, though I'm pretty sure worms are better at it than fungus. The ghost is just there to spectate, they can't be harmed in a way that matters. /ref