#Chaos has a very hands off approach to parenting while CW looks like he has a hands off approach

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 225

Klarion is EXCITED. He's absolutely DELIGHTED even, unable to sit still as he flits from place to place. His baby cousin! Is! Visiting! Which OBVIOUSLY means he, as the older one, must make sure the main places are still standing so he can show his itty bitty baby cousin EVERYTHING! After all, he's never gotten to be the older one! He's always been the youngest in the family! But now he has an itty bitty toddler cousin- form recently shifted to match- to teach the ways of Chaos to! He's so EXCITED!

The League and heroes on the other hand, are Very concerned about Why the Witch Boy has been spotted in practically every major city in the US in the last few days. What is he planning?!

[cotncandyboifics]

1989 [High School AU]: Chapter 8

AO3 Link

Masterpost

Chapter 1 ~ Chapter 2 ~ Chapter 3 ~ Chapter 4 ~ Chapter 5 ~ Chapter 6 ~ Chapter 7 ~ Chapter 9 ~

Pairings: slight Logince, eventual Prinxiety & Logicality

Word count: 2,407

Story summary: Roman Prince is your stereotypical Jock, with everyone swooning after him. Every day a crowd of people follow him around, only to disperse at his personal whim. In reality, he's lucky to have such good acting skills that help him cover up the disdain he has for his life. He only wishes he could use his skills properly.

Patton Whitelock's always there to lend a helping hand, no matter who you are. If you need a favor or just need someone to talk to, go to him. In reality, he's been taught from a young age that kindness should be held above all else. No one suspects that he took it the wrong way.

Logan Montgomery is the smartest boy in the Senior class. He's stern, and most people are too intimidated to speak to him. In reality, he despises most all of his fellow students. He sticks to his studies and doesn't stray, for fear of being stuck in his father's shadow his whole life.

Virgil Black is the most emo kid in school, let alone 12th grade; everyone knows to leave him be. In reality, he's very fortunate. He has two parents who love him dearly. But everything beyond his life, everything within his mind, is utter chaos and turmoil.

what will happen when they're assigned a biology project together?

General CW: food, swearing, implied s-lf h-rm, non-graphic descriptions of s-lf h-rm scars, graphic and non-graphic descriptions of anxiety attacks and panic attacks, drug abuse, minor character intoxicated on heroin, non-graphic drug overdose description, sickness/description of sickness, blood, non-graphic descriptions of needles, (will be added to as I write more)

Chapter CW: food, (let me know if i missed anything please!)

Author notes: alternate title: Virgil's very subtle epiphany. also Patton has a gay panic moment lol

...

Slam.

Monday morning. Mr. Berry was slapping a small poster on each student's desk like a stamp, one-by-one and painfully slowly.

"This," he began, "Is the official welcome to the schoolyear; audition posters for the Fall Talent Show." His bloated belly hardly fit between the desk rows, and students made futile attempts to scoot away from him before they were bombarded by his tyrannical tummy. "As a retired thespian and a life long supporter of theatre and the arts," he continued, bringing his pile of posters to his chest in his passion, "I highly recommend you at least consider looking into auditions. Everyone has a passion, or at least a hobby, and the talent show is a perfect freelance opportunity to show off your skills."

Roman rolled his eyes too dramatically. This was upsetting him more than he thought it would, and his eyes shot daggers up at his large superior as he slammed the next poster onto Roman's desk.

"Auditions will be held next week, on the specified dates. The show itself will be two weeks later, I believe on Friday night. Be there, and I will award you some extra credit points. All you must do is present me with your ticket, which must have your name on it," he eyed a few mischievous students in the room, "With a stamp on it from the Talent Show admissions booth, on the following Monday." As soon as Mr. Berry had given a poster to Virgil and moved on, Virgil quietly crumpled it and shoved it into a random part of his backpack, proceeding to fold his arms on his desk and put his head down. This caught Roman's attention, and his subconscious latched onto formulating a teasing remark for after class as a distraction from his own feelings about the Talent Show.

After class, the usual place where Roman and Virgil were shortly alone and had a short interaction - most often consisting of some insufferable tease from Roman or occasionally a debate spurred by Virgil making a witty side comment - the two met once again. After their first class of the day was usually the only time they were both at their lockers at the same time, as it happened, and Virgil was always thankful that it was the only time. Since their assignment to the Biology project, however, Roman had taken to walking with Virgil from their English class to their lockers and beginning his bouts of banter prematurely.

"Not a fan of the infamous talent show, are we?" Roman paced quickly over to Virgil, who had just made it outside the classroom door as they'd been dismissed. Virgil huffed in defeat as his attempt to escape before Roman could catch him had been fruitless.

"It's ridiculous," Virgil didn't slow his pace for Roman, and began essentially speedwalking down the hall. Roman was slightly taller than him and was able to keep up, but still got a little out of breath doing it. "Hey everyone, come and show everyone in the school something you really enjoy so they can all collectively judge you and make you self conscious about your interests and - oh no! you don't wanna do it anymore because you feel horribly inadequate? shoooot. Sorry man, no one could have seen that coming. Oh well, better luck next year when you'll just ruin a different passion for yourself!" Virgil flailed his hands at the end of his mini-rant.

"How can you stay that sarcastic for that long consecutively? I'm honestly impressed," Roman said, huffing as they arrived at their lockers. Virgil's permanent frown seemed to somehow deepen. "Though, I guess I really can't argue, Count Woe-laf. I see your point. The pressures of an impromptu performance are... undeniable." Roman focused his attention on the padlock hanging from the latch of his locker, while Virgil looked to him with widened eyes.

"Really?" He didn't look away from Roman until he would look back.

"What?" Roman defended.

"It's just..." Virgil focused on his own padlock now, "You never agree with what I say. It always becomes a debate," he pulled his locker open lazily, pulling his backpack off his shoulders and putting it on backwards so that he could more easily exchange things. When Roman didn't reply, he continued, "like... I don't know. Why is it any different now?"

Roman was exchanging things as well, and didn't have an immediate answer. Well, he knew the answer (or in this case, answers), but it wasn't one he was even ready to admit to himself, let alone anyone else, and especially let alone Virgil. He just eventually shrugged.

This reaction only further alarmed Virgil. He opened his mouth to continue his flabbergasted interrogation, but the bell rang right at that moment. Roman slammed his locker shut suddenly.

"Well, that's our queue I suppose. See you tonight, Incredible Sulk." Roman elbowed Virgil in the shoulder a bit awkwardly and began skipping down the hall to his next class. That left a dumbfounded and nearly-panicking Virgil standing in front of his open locker in an almost completely empty hall.

He wished Roman would stop leaving him like that.

...

Roman had texted the Biology Project group chat that weekend, saying he had an important football practice on Monday that went until 5. they'd have to have their meet-up at Roman's a bit later in the evening. Logan simply waited it out by heading to the school library to get his other homework done, while Patton and Virgil shot the breeze, walking down random hallways of the school.

The two of them were grabbing a snack from a vending machine when Virgil checked his phone. It was 4:50. They got their respective snacks - Patton got a strawberry Pop tart and Virgil got a Sunny D - and made their way to the designated meeting place. It was a concrete bench at the front of the school. They expected to find Logan there, but he wasn't. The two of them simply sat on the cold bench and exchanged bits of each other's snacks, and continued talking until Virgil noticed someone approaching.

He figured it would be Logan, but this person was shorter and more filled out than Logan. He trained his eyes better and realized that it was Roman. Roman, who happened to have a towel around his neck and sopping-wet crimson curly hair unabashedly on display. A drip of water rolled down his cheek and along his jawline, and Virgil realized he was staring. Roman finally got within conversation distance.

"Like what you see, Charlie Frown?" He teased. Patton looked to Virgil, noticing his awe, and giggled.

"Hah, in your dreams, Meta Knight," Virgil deflected half-heartedly, still finding it hard to pull his eyes away from Roman's unfortunate perfection. It was only worse that Roman knew just how attractive he was.

"Why's your hair all wet, silly?" Patton asked, standing energetically to greet him.

"We rinse off after practice. I considered leaving my shirt off so i could just get a clean one when i got home, but i knew that might be a bit too much to handle for some of us," Roman elbow-nudged Patton, who just giggled again and pushed his glasses up. Virgil knew that was extremely forced, especially after their conversation on Friday.

"Well," Roman checked his wristwatch, "Where would my nerdy Wolverine happen to be? It's ten past, and if there's anything Logan certainly is, it's punctual."

"Quite right you are," a stern voice came from behind them, to reveal Logan's lengthy form approaching casually. "My apologies for my tardiness. I got quite engaged in a particular Physics problem." Roman turned to him smiling, and pecked him on the cheek. Virgil didn't need to look at Patton to feel his friend's heart sink through the floor.

"Shall we then?" Roman turned to lead the way on the five-block journey to his house.

...

"hmm, that reminds me," Roman said from his sprawled position on his bed, "what are all your sexualities?"

That sure caught everyone's attention. The clock beside Roman's bed read 6:28 PM. Logan was studying their plants and taking notes, Patton had been cooing quietly to Roman's pet turtle, and Virgil was sitting in Roman's spinning desk chair scrolling on his phone. They all looked at Roman at once, and then at each other.

"Heh," Roman sat up, "My apologies for blurting such an intrusive question, I was just looking up at my-" he gestured toward his ceiling- "glorious flag, and it made me wonder. No man must answer that which he does not desire to." Roman was blatantly referring to the Bisexual flag that was pinned to the ceiling above his bed. They all looked at it, and back at him. "I suppose it's obvious now, but yes, I am undeniably bisexual," He faux bowed.

The silence wasn't doing anyone good, so Patton broke it before it got too much more awkward. "I, I'm gay," he said sheepishly, continuing to observe the turtle. Virgil gave him a soft smile, and decided to offer himself up next.

"I'm pan," he seemed to recoil further into his hoodie, if that were even possible. Logan turned to the other three, adjusting his necktie.

"I'm not usually one to admit this to many people, but since you have all been so transparent and calm about such personal information," He started, "I am comfortable telling you that I am Asexual."

No one regarded this with much surprise, except for Roman. "Oh really?" He said, seemingly surprised and embarrassed. Virgil scoff-laughed at him.

"What, upset you can't make your sexual fantasies a reality?" Virgil teased. Roman gasped, bringing a hand to his chest in an offended gesture.

"Excuse me!" He exclaimed, a look of disgust contorting his face.

Before a classic Roman-Virgil debate could ensue, Patton decided to share his thoughts.

"Well, I, I mean, I'm not ace but I, I guess sex isn't really so important to me," he was fiddling with his ring yet again.

"W-well, it should never be the centerpiece of any relationship!" Roman declared. They all looked at him skeptically. "what? I mean, personally, I prefer grand gestures." As he spoke, he stood and walked to Logan. "In my opinion," he produced a pristine bouquet of deep red roses that none of the others had noticed anywhere in the room before, "they are the key to any person's heart."

Logan seemed tame, Patton thought. As if he were performing. If he were being his normal self, he would have been very confused by where Roman had hidden the bouquet, and how it looked so perfect after being concealed. Instead, he just took it with a very gentle sweet smile, and thanked him quietly. Instead of Logan, Patton was now the one confused.

Virgil's face was red, and his neck a blotchy pink; thankfully he was mostly hidden under his purple bangs and hood. He huffed and excused himself to use the restroom. Patton noticed this time, and grabbed his arm before he made it out of the room.

"You okay?" he whispered gently to Virgil. Virgil just looked at him, mustered a small smile and a nod. Patton knew exactly what that meant. Virgil was okay, he just needed a moment. He returned the smile, and released his gentle paternal grip on Virgil's arm, allowing him to leave.

There was the sound of someone calling Roman's name from another part of the house, and Roman excused himself, rushing off to find its source.

Logan slipped his phone into the pocket of his navy slacks. "Well, I must be going now," He began. Instead of reaching to gather his things, he trained his acute attention directly on Patton, who was startled by the sudden focus on him. "Patton, do you have a ride home today?"

"I, uh, well," He tried blurting out an excuse but none came to his mind. "No, not exactly..."

Logan was slowly approaching, and Patton tried to back up but hit the terrarium containing Roman's turtle after just one small step. "Would you like a ride? My parents would be more than happy to assist in your safe transport home."

"Well, well I really don't want to intrude, or-" He stopped dead when Logan placed a slender hand gently on his shoulder.

"I insist. It's no intrusion or burden to them. They appreciate being able to help others when they can, especially people whose company I enjoy." Logan didn't feel as though he was figuratively lying through his teeth, but he knew that his parents didn't exactly feel that way. The nature of the situation was more that they took kindly to those that Logan worked well with on academically related subjects, such as people from his study group or the like.

Patton caught himself before letting the thought "you enjoy my company?" escape his lips. He just smiled. He knew there was no way he could get himself to deny Logan's offer when his heart was taking the reins.

"I would.. really appreciate, a ride home, yeah," He said quietly. Logan was just looking into his eyes with a tenderness Patton hadn't seen before. He pushed away any thoughts that Logan may have looked at Roman the exact same way during their date. He hoped he hadn't, and cursed himself for hoping it.

"Wonderful," Logan pulled himself out of their shared momentary trance. "I will let them know. I'm sure they will find it a pleasure to become acquainted with you. They should be here in less than five minutes, so I suggest gathering your belongings." Logan's thumbs padded across is illuminated phone screen as he spoke, until he once again slid it into his pocket and began collecting his things along with Patton.

Virgil entered once again, hood off and face slightly red and wet. it was clear that he hadn't been crying due to the sporadic nature of the droplets of water across his face; it looked more like he'd just haphazardly washed his face in the sink and hadn't bothered to wipe the remnants away. Patton smiled at him brightly.

"Ah, Virgil," Logan addressed as he slung his bag over his shoulder, "It was pleasant to see you again. We are on our way out now. Are you ready, Patton?" He looked to Patton, who also slung his bag over his shoulder.

"Yep! Logan's giving me a ride," Patton blatantly could barely contain his excitement in his ever-growing grin, so Virgil only returned it with a small thumbs up.

"Alright, ill see you guys in class tomorrow," He hugged Patton tightly, and half-heartedly saluted to Logan without making eye contact. Logan simply nodded to him, and the two left shortly, leaving Virgil alone in Roman's room.

[dongiovannaswife]

I. Tragedy; a parent’s heritage.

part one (you’re here). part 2.  CW: body horror, blood, wounds, violence, major character death, mentions and use of weapons, alcohol. Stay safe. Feedback is always appreciated. 

The court of the king Dio Brando. Known for the bizarre individuals that conformed it, serving to a man whose reign has been claiming the lives of innocents from the very beginning, when Brando and his men followed him into the crusade against the King Joestar.

It’s been twenty two years since they took over, killing Jonathan Joestar and his wife, the Queen Erina; taking their son, Giorno Joestar, as Dio’s. Making the boy believe his father was Dio.

Twenty two years and they still judge people like animals.

Just like the unfortunate (Y/n) right there; kneeling inside the cage made especially for humans; but treated as the one used for a bear that goes around the country giving shows with the talents of the caravans that drove around the kingdom.

And even there, she could swear the bears of the caravans were treated far better than she was.

The rumors around the kingdom are strong; predominant and scary. And they were only rumors before (Y/n) felt them become real. Many men claimed it impossible to escape the king’s wrath. Most of those men were dead by now, having broken the rule to “do not use the king’s name in vain; if you must, use it only for praise.”

The court of the king Dio Brando. Known for its scary and bizarre individuals but feared by their way to make justice. In the spawn of two hours, she had already proved that.

As one of the guards profaned her parents memory with insults and curses, (Y/n) kept glaring back at the King even if her lip was bleeding, adding to the unknown fluids in the floor of the cage; a broken wrist that was the result from a battle against one of the guards in her attempt to escape through the frontier with the West kingdom and the man with two right hands that brought her here, poking her sides with his walking stick.

The King, however, stared back at her from his throne, comfortably sitting with his servant, a woman with brown skin and white hairs, feeding him wine when he turned his head. The mix of hatred and mocking making her feel like, if she could, she would rip off those bars and use one of them to impale the Ki—

The voice of the counselor, Vanilla Ice, resonated through the room, a feral tone on it, “My lord, if her parents had a debt with our kingdom then we shall take what’s ours!” The king looked at him, not liking the “our kingdom” part: for him, the Crimson Kingdom was all his.

Looking over at his counselor and glaring at him —effectively getting Vanilla Ice to lower his eyes like a scolded dog— and then, thinking about his suggestion for a moment, the King looked at her once again, amber eyes piercing through her; her courage, however, strong and unbreakable.

“What can you say on your defense?”

(Y/n) shook her head, hitting the bars of the cage, screaming in her mother tongue insults the King choose to ignore; but keeping the offenses as an extra punishment.

The executioner, a large man with a strange black hat —that gave the impression to have remnants of cloth sewed to the ends of it— got closer to the cage, dragging his axe through the floor with the sound of death; as he got closer to the cage the muscles of his arms flexed, lifting the heavy axe and hitting the bars with the end of the handle. The echo of the hit making her sit down, hands in her ears and whimper falling from her lips.

On the other side of the cage, Melone, —the one who saw her while she tried to escape through the cursed forest, ruled by the spirit Kira, the dryad no one wanted to come across with— laughed.

“Talk.” Commanded the king, a furious look on his usual stoic and sardonic face after being ignored and mocked.

The girl sat properly and with more effort than she thought she’ll need, spoke between elaborated breathing, her hearing still dizzy. “I can’t pay the debt.”

“And?” Dio asked, expecting something more; perhaps a certain addressing.

“—King Dio.” She mocked and Risotto hit the bars again, the metallic ringing making her to muffle a moan of pain on her palm.

The door opened and the prince Giorno entered, a sigh escaping his lips when he noticed the same routine from years now; his father and his court of assassins hurting someone. The King laughed, a welcoming laugh that echoed through the room, vigorous and juvenile; fake and venom like. “My son! Come here! Let’s show this poo—“

“I told you, father, ending an innocent life won’t make you a good king, you’re ruling with chaos and hate and those won’t make you wise; they make your reign useless.”

“Giorno.” Murmured the king, a fake admiration tone laced with his words, “You’re always so compassionate.”

”Useless, useless.” The prince said again, a mocking tone on his sweet, baritone voice; the same venom of his father reflected on his son. The difference, though, resided on their souls; one of them merciless and evil and the other, compassionate and kind.

 The king Dio felt his blood boil. He looked between his son and the girl, finding the resolve almost instantly.

“I won’t kill her.” The girl looked up, hope shining on her eyes. A hope buried by the next sentences. As the king kept talking his features turned darker, if he was named after a god then it was the god of the death.

“She’ll die here—” then, he looked briefly at her, and kept talking “—the debt will be paid with your services as a maid, you can’t go out. You can’t eat from here; the trash is your food. You’ll take a bath once a week but if you want to bath twice you must ask for permission. You won’t see the lights again— your rights don’t matter anymore; you’re a pet.”

Melone whistled; Risotto let his axe on his shoulder and even if the mask covered his face his red and black eyes held a mischievous light.  Vanilla Ice smiled, triumphal. The rest of the court erupted in a series of laughs, clapping and whistles, being followed by the signature anthem; “Hail to the king!”

Giorno looked at the girl, feeling culprit for his intervention; it was clear that his power as a young prince wouldn’t make anything against his father, a king with a long road of cruelty.

As the prince saw how the girl trembled between sobs and his father’s club of clowns laugh, the will to take over the reign became stronger than before. Buccellati’s words echoing through his mind, convincing him. The plans with the Reign of the south proving being the only way out, Bruno was a young king but, as his mother used to say, hope was the one to make things possible. And Bruno brought hope to his life.

Hope, as he always thought, almost as if that thought was a memory, “hope is our most treasured value.”

 Giorno couldn’t do anything, just watch as they took the cage with them, between laughs and mockeries. He couldn’t sit and see how they kept treating people like that so he turned his head to the opposite side.

“My son,” started Dio, walking down the steps and sitting in his throne; dismissing Mariah with a gesture. As soon as she left, Giorno approached his father, choosing to stand before him, just were the cage had been before. “You need to learn we can’t live from good intentions; if people see you as a kind hearted king they will try to climb over you.” Just like Jonathan. Dio thought as a twisted smile lifted the corners of his lips; Giorno’s teal eyes full of rage and impotence.

“You are clearly twisting the meaning of those words.”

The king snorted, dismissing his son with a gesture.

One day, Giorno thought, one day you’ll be the king of nothing.

   It’s been two years since (Y/n) started working for the King. In fact, she was supposed to work for the royal family, but Giorno never asked for anything.

They say that love is magical; your first will be that one that haunts you for the rest of your life if they really are your first love. And if they happen to be that person you’re destined to be with, things will be better.

If there was something he had shown towards her that was compassion and kindness. He had a certain way to say sorry in this subtle way that would make her question his motives; after a while, every time he would get her a small vine from the surroundings of the castle, she would take it, save it until Risotto smashed it with his feet when he came over to check on her.

They say that love is real, but hard to find. It’s a magic certainly, a magic that not even the witch Yukako could recreate, as she claimed.

And still, a year and half later, when a shy, first kiss was shared between the young lovers a promise, pure and longing like the love they held for each other started; blooming and bringing a sense of happiness to her sad heart and his enraged one.

 As the prince Giorno entered the canteen to reunite with Fugo, one of King Bruno’s men infiltrated in the kingdom living as a farmer, he could hear the exasperated rambling of one of the villagers towards another man at his side.

“I tell you, man, if the King Jonathan—“he dropped his voice when he mentioned the name, “was here he wouldn’t have us in this misery; the kingdom was such a brilliant place before he came.”

That made the prince’s ears peek.

Looking around once more and finding Fugo’s confused eyes directed at him, he quickly gestured for him to wait there, as he took a seat next to the man, dipping his head back and faking an accent. “Hey, who’s that king Jonathan you’re talkin’ about?”

The man looked over at him with fear, thinking it might be one of Dio’s men. “Uh- I was talking about a story. Yes.”

The prince couldn’t help but feel the need to reveal his identity, but he decided against it and instead, choose a lie. “Sir, I am a storyteller, and there’s no story that talks about a King Jonathan. Besides, you were talking about this kingdom. You were referring to… Him.” Giorno couldn’t bring himself to pronounce that name, he didn’t wanted to anyway.

The men moved uncomfortably in their seats. “How is it possible that you don’t know about him? You should know —everyone knows! I’m surprised the Prince hasn’t tried anything yet. I suppose he was too small to remember his own parents; if only he could remember his mother. The Queen was such a sweet woman.”

Giorno’s chest tightened with fear; the realization that maybe he was right, and those doubts about his own family were real.

“Sir,” he started, no longer faking an accent, whispering after. “I am the Prince.” Under the men’s surprise he lifted the hat of his cape, revealing his face to them, and proceeding to hide again when he saw the flash of recognition through their eyes. “And I need to know the truth.”  

The men scooted over to him, giving him his greetings and hopes before anything else. Fugo joined them; gentle eyes when Giorno asked if he knew. Hope growing there; the Prince was awakening from his of lethargy induced ignorance.

But none of them noticed Vanilla Ice slipping out of the canteen.

“My king.” Vanilla Ice bowed as he opened the door to the King’s room; the man and the woman that spent the night with him coming out of the room as he entered. “I’m afraid Giorno knows the truth.”

Dio chuckled, swirling his glass and staring at the liquid there; then, as he looked back at his Counselor, a twisted smile taking over. “Bring the girl, we know she’s his weakness. As he so often says, weaknesses are useless, useless.”

Nodding, Vanilla ice walked out, closing the door at his back.

[thenugking]

Grand Academy For Future Villains II: Attack of the Sequel, Chapter 10: Rise of Chapter Ten. A commentary for Three.

General CW for the whole thing: parental abuse, internalised dehumanisation as a trauma response. Three’s not doing well.

Specific CW that there isn’t a chapter nine and it Bothers Me agh.

Game 1

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9

Game 2

Chapter 0 | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8

Alternatively, read on Google Docs here

***

#"Guards! Darkboard! Mom! Intruder in the school!"

But your voice only echoes down the empty corridors. 

"DarkBoard can't help you here," says Val, zir pen working busily on the paper. "That's why I'm here in the first place. That and saving the world. Just like my destiny foretold, I guess, thought I never thought this is what it meant. Turns out destiny is a strange and ironic thing."

((The game actually reads “Guards! DarkBoard! Mom! Your mother!” I assume this is a bug.))

Scorpius is here with Val, of course, so Three’s first thought is that ze convinced zir to come back. But then why are they in the admin building, in particular? And what is Val doing with the paperwork? Three doesn’t have anything personal against Val, they’re even sympathetic to zir. But they do know ze’s dangerous. Val doesn’t exactly do anything to make them feel better.

"No, you disappointment," adds the clone, "not the replica, me. Do you know how hard it is to make one of these things talk? I'm in the School Head's decoy office and unless you come here and help me, Horror is going to lose the house tournament. I'll be ruined! As your original creator, I order you! Drop what you're doing and help me!"

Imagine that: teaching classes, the personal management of the mindless hordes of maintenance staff, the pursuit of tenure, the faculty sponsorship of the Science Fiction dorm, and the leading role in the final school tournament challenge might have been a little too much for your mother. Is this…is this the first time she's ever actually asked for help?

"Your mother's calling," says your former roommate, stacking up the papers on the desk with one hand, keeping the flashback gun leveled at you with the other. "Go on."

Three isn’t the kind of person to bail on plans, but they’ve already helped Aurion a fair bit, and dealing with Val really is more important. This, on the other hand…

They’ve spent years running around making Maedryn’s life easier, but she’s never just admitted she needed their help before. How are they supposed to ignore her now, particularly when she gave them a direct command? But even leaving aside the fact that this means betraying Aurion (as much as Three doesn’t want to, they know he’ll understand, and maybe even be impressed), they can’t just let Val walk free either. Not when ze’s a threat to the Academy. Val has to come with them.

Val doesn’t particularly care to help Three. They’re planning to pretend to leave, and then return with their gun raised and the replica as a shield, but luckily, Scorpius convinces Val to come and help Maedryn before they have to try. Scorpius, by this point, has stopped making even a token effort to pretend ze’s loyal to Thriller, has all but moved into Dev’s room, and even fought for Horror in the virtual DarkBoard quest. Ze’s still very invested in Horror’s win, and Val’s invested enough in Scorpius to agree to go with zir.

Cautiously you approach the throne room door. You're expecting a variety of traps to greet you—but you see they have already been sprung. Peering around the corner, you see your mother facing off against none other than Dev. Leader of the genre that you swore to undermine.Distracting your mother as a way to get her to call off the defending forces? Clever.

They circle each other slowly across the throne room floor, hardly needing to look down to avoid the bottomless pits, the illusory tiles, and the triggers for the giant descending pendulums. Your mother appears to be armed with a classroom laser pointer.

Of course, you've seen her blow holes in student projects from across the room with this particular tool, so she's probably as well armed as she needs to be.

Neither of them have noticed you in the doorway.

#Defend my mother from Dev. I know she'll make it worth my while.

Your mother catches your eye as she backs Dev towards you. She takes it for granted that you're going to assist her. You are, of course. It'll just take a little planning.

Dev is avoiding the bottomless pit in the floor with practiced ease, but is not counting on someone coming up from behind and giving a well-placed shove. Which you do. The long fading scream is a measure of satisfaction.

"There!" Your mother catches her breath and staggers back to the throne. "You have done well.”

I know Maedryn’s supposed to back Horror if Sci-Fi wins the semi-final, and considering she just told me she was worried about losing, this is presumably a bug. I’m not sure how easy Dev would be to shove into a pit, either.

Not that adny of that really matters. Three arrives to help Maedryn against Fantasy, but by this point, Aurion’s already distracted fighting Cazenar, who’s trying to sabotage him. Dev and Scorpius get distracted by smooching, because they haven’t seen each other since Scorpius went after Val. Three discovers that, as Maedryn’s RA, Sona is also here to help Maedryn out, so has to work out what to do in this chaos to make themself look better than Sona. Val really doesn’t care about any of this.

And then a forcefield appears around the seven students, and A Baroness walks in and shoves a very distracted Maedryn into the bottomless pit, before reminding everyone what she said at the beginning of the year. “You can accomplish so much when you bring people together. And even more when you play them against each other."

So, weak and mortal student, We cannot help but notice that you have selected none for your consort. Could this be because the flesh holds no temptation for you—that you know a stranger and more uncanny hunger? Join Us, join Us, and let your consciousness be absorbed into Our millionfold awareness! See with a thousand eyes! Reach out with a hundred hands! 

Think about it anyway.

I mean, yes, that is absolutely 100% why. And assimilating would be… a welcome relief. At present though, Three feels they can serve better outside of DarkBoard. And they’d like to know who, precisely, DarkBoard’s been assimilating, to get a hundred hands but a thousand eyes. Three respects DarkBoard greatly, but that doesn’t mean they’re not going to tease them about how unrealistic their attempt at sounding grandiose is.

"…Thriller is the reigning genre of the Grand Academy for Future Villains."

Well deserved. Three is pleased to hear it, both for Ulik, and A Baroness.

"We have been unable to reach a conclusion on the final accreditation of the Grand Academy for Future Villains."

Groans. Hisses. The muffled sound of elbows being jabbed into ribs as the eyes of the Head sweep around the hall and students hush each other.

"We will be summoning a fourth member of the Board of Visitors and Overlords to assist us in our deliberations," says Lord X, "and anticipate having a final ruling on the Academy's future within the week. In the meantime…"

Ms. Goul touches his arm. He looks down as she passes him a paper.

"In the meantime," he says, "we will be conducting interviews with individual students and members of the faculty. The following entities will be summoned to attend over the course of the next week. Three—"

You don't hear any of the rest of the list. Is this about Val? Have they found zir? What do they know about what you did?

You jam your hands into your pockets to stop them from shaking, and there you find something strange. A paper of some sort—you definitely didn't put it in there. 

Hunching forward over your table to prevent anyone from seeing, you draw it out. It's an envelope—yellow with age and smelling of dust. The last time you saw that envelope, Val was folding up a paper and putting it inside. Ze must have slipped it into your pocket over the course of your confrontation. How did you manage to miss it?

You take out the paper and unfold it. It's an official form from the days before DarkBoard digitized all of the Academy's records. You can't immediately make head or tail of it, but you see a spot on the printed page where information has been filled in by hand. 

BY CONSENT OF THE ADMINISTRATION AND UNDER SUPERVISION OF THE BOARD OF VISITORS AND OVERLORDS, you read, THREE IS AN OFFICIAL REGISTERED FATAL WEAKNESS OF THE GRAND ACADEMY FOR FUTURE VILLAINS TYPE 3.3.75

There’s a lot of terrifying things happening here. Firstly, the fact that the auditors are undecided. Three doesn’t know what’s gone wrong for them to be undecided still. Is it because of Val? Is it the way Maedryn’s slipping? Have Three and Professor Ulik not done enough to cover Professor Arthenes’ workload? Whatever it is, Three should have done better.

And then Lord X says the auditors want to speak to them, which carries the terror that the auditors know who they are and care about their opinion at all, but also the relief and hope if they give a glowing enough testimonial about the Academy, they can save it. And another wave of fear over the idea of the auditors listening to them…

And then there’s the paper, which is the most terrifying thing of all. Val’s been telling Three all year that they’re more important than they make out to be, that they have narrative weight, that they mean anything at all. And now they’ve made it true. Three is only just able to crumple the paper up tightly in their hand before the room starts spinning around them in the worst panic attack they’ve ever had.

[yumekuimono]

[WinterIron] Disarmed

inspired by an unanswered @imaginetonyandbucky prompt: Imagine Bucky seeing the footage from the time Tony disarmed him during CW and it kinda turned him on. (Or alternatively, watching Tony handling weapons give Bucky the hots)

this is nothing like that. basically, Bucky is me in this fic

“Wait.” Bucky speaks suddenly, before he even realizes he means to. He blinks, but figures he might as well continue. “Go back a bit,” he requests, and FRIDAY rewinds the tape he’s watching. “Little more. There, play from there.”

On screen, security footage from the GSG9 headquarters shows Tony Stark confronting the Winter Soldier with only a palm repulsor that was hidden inside his watch.

“Play it again.”

“Buck?” Steve asks, looking at him in concern, but he only holds up his hand, watching the encounter play out intently. When he speaks, it’s to address the AI again.

“Can you slow it down a bunch?”

Obligingly, the footage rewinds and then inches by a few frames at a time.

“Oh my god,” Bucky whispers. “Oh my god, did I hit his sunglasses?”

“Bucky?” Steve asks again. “What’s wrong?”

He stands abruptly, throwing Steve no more than a cursory glance. “Sorry. I need to take a break. I’ll be back in a while.”

“Okay…” Steve sounds worried, but lets him go.

Bucky is not at all ashamed of taking advantage of Steve’s enormous soft spot when it comes to him. Honestly, he’d been okay with it in the days after he’d been unfrozen again, when he’d been overwhelmed by trying to erase his conditioning and untangle his memories with the help of Tony’s BARF technology and he’d barely been able to cope with taking care of himself. Then, it had been a relief to know that Steve would undoubtedly fight in Bucky’s corner to defend him from any and all politicians or press that wanted to accuse him. Now that he’s doing better, though, Steve’s self-appointed role as guardian of Bucky’s boundaries, even from Bucky himself, is starting to grate. He’d had to insist half a dozen times that it would be fine to get Steve to agree to let him review the material that is going in his own damn dossier.

Honestly, if Steve is going to fret over Bucky wanting to influence the arguments that will hopefully convince the world governments that the actions of the Winter Soldier really aren’t his fault, and then fret over Bucky wanting to take a break from reviewing footage that is, admittedly, frequently stomach-churning, he deserves to be taken advantage of.

Bucky stomps down from the viewing room into the workshop.

“Stark. Give me a pistol.”

Tony startles, snapping out of his work zone. “What? You’re not supposed to have them still.”

It’s one of the conditions that allowed them to bring Bucky stateside. Technically, he isn’t supposed to have any weapons at all, but Natasha had secretly slipped him a couple of knives because she understands.

He rolls his eyes. “Something gun-shaped, then. Doesn’t have to be functional.”

Tony considers, then rolls his chair across the floor to a storage bin and digs out an old handgrip prototype. The thing can be loaded with a clip and has both trigger and finger guard, but there’s no firing mechanism and only the most rudimentary of barrels. He hands it over.

Bucky double checks that the gun is disabled and unloaded, and then he levels it at Tony’s chest. “Right. Now take it away from me.”

Tony’s heart kicks up to triple-time as a shock of adrenaline hits his system. He’s been working on moving past his anger towards Barnes. He knows now that the man was a victim, that his parents’ deaths are on HYDRA’s hands. That’s why he fought so hard to get him the BARF, and why he offered to build a new arm. But right now, with a gun and a deadly glare pointed at him, it’s hard not to see the terrifying enemy Barnes was all those months ago. He barely notices the watch repulsor unfold in an automatic response to his distress.

“What?” Tony croaks.

“Take the gun away from me,” Bucky says patiently.

Tony stands, and reaches up to grasp the barrel.

“No.”

He flinches as if the forceful tone of Barnes’ voice had been a gunshot.

“If this had been combat, I would have shot you already.” In the middle of a battle, with fear and adrenaline and chaos working against him, Bucky could understand Tony’s response; but if this is how he approaches disarming someone when he has all the time in the world to react? Bucky’s got no clue what Howard was doing, raising Tony to take over a weapons manufacturing empire without teaching him basic gun safety. “First rule of disarming someone: don’t get shot. Step to the side.”

Tony’s brow furrows as if he wants to argue. Internally, Bucky rolls his eyes. It would be just like Tony to protest because he’s worried about collateral damage to whoever might be standing behind him. Fortunately, he doesn’t say anything, and even better, he knows to step to the outside of Bucky’s extended arm.

Bucky nods. “Now turn and grab the back of the gun with your left hand. Jam your fingers in front of where the hammer would be. It might hurt, but not as much as getting shot.”

Tony follows directions. It’s good advice; blocking the hammer will prevent the gun from firing, even if the trigger’s been pulled. He still has no clue why the hell Barnes has taken it upon himself to apparently teach him this.

“Now grab the front of the barrel. Twist it away from you and around towards my body.”

Tony finds himself abruptly holding on to the prototype. Barnes’ expression shifts into what might be a smile on anyone else, and he holds out his hand. Tony doesn’t give him back the gun, though, instead opting to stare suspiciously.

“No offense, Robocop, but why are we doing this?”

Bucky presses his lips together and looks away. “FRIDAY, is it possible to play the footage I was just watching down here?”

“Certainly, Sgt. Barnes.”

A video window pops up on one of the holoscreens, already looping the segment that Bucky had been rewatching. Tony blinks at it, frowns.

“So…what? You didn’t like my style?”

Bucky stares at him. He cannot believe this man sometimes, but usually that statement is accompanied by less exasperation and more being awestruck. “You put your hand in front of the barrel, Stark.”

Tony holds up his hand, still covered by the repulsor, and wiggles his fingers. “Yeah, but I had one of these on.”

“And what if you hadn’t? What happens if you get caught without it one day?”

“I won’t.” Tony knows he won’t because he always wears the watch now.

Things are tense in the Facility. He might be working towards forgiving Barnes, but outside of their regularly scheduled workshop meetings, he avoids the man. Partly because it’s awkward and he doesn’t really know how Barnes feels about him, but mostly because he’s pretty much glued to Steve’s side. And Steve…Steve, Tony still has nightmares about. Steve and his team he fought to bring to the table on the new Accords and he fought to bring them home, but he has not completely forgiven them. (They’re here because deep down, Tony still knows that something is coming—and they’re going to need all the help they can get.)

“You can’t know that! You get into the habit of grabbing guns like that, the one day you don’t have your protection, you’re gonna get shot, and if you’re lucky that bullet’s not gonna be pointed at your face. Hell, I already hit your sunglasses.”

Tony is not at all sure how to respond to that, so he says, “You didn’t, actually. Hit my glasses. It looks like that in the footage, but the bullet didn’t make it past the barrel.”

Bucky cannot even be relieved that he didn’t hit Tony. “That’s not the point. What if it had damaged your repulsor?”

“I was 98.9 percent certain that wouldn’t happen,” Tony hedges.

“And if it had? What happens when your repulsors fail?”

He resists the urge to say they never fail, because he might be a genius engineer but part of that is knowing that things always fail. “It…wouldn’t have exploded. Probably.”

Bucky grits his teeth. Honestly, it’s like Tony has never had someone care about his safety before. “Probably.”

Tony nods. He’s still a little confused by this whole thing. “Most likely.”

Bucky holds out his hand for the gun prototype. “Do it again.”

Tony hands the gun back and lets Barnes make him repeat the motions over and over, retracting the watch repulsor while he’s at it. Somehow, he doesn’t feel like he came out on top of that conversation. He feels off-balance, like he still needs to defend himself. Before he can really think about it, he finds himself saying, “Even if I did damage my repulsor—which, there’s only a one-point-one percent chance of that happening—there’s enough mass in there that a bullet wouldn’t exit my hand with enough force to kill me afterwards.”

Bucky shakes his head, bringing his left hand up to brace the butt of the gun. The motions are exactly the same, but Tony needs to learn not to let the different grip throw him off. “Not acceptable.”

Tony fakes a bright grin. “Worried about me?”

“Yes.”

That gives him more of a pause than Barnes adding in his other hand had, but fortunately at this point the motions of repeatedly disarming him have become almost automatic. “I know,” he says faux-sympathetically, “if I get my hand shot, there’s no one to fix up your arm anymore.”

Bucky is silent for a while after that as they work, wondering what the hell he’s going to do with this man in front of him. He makes Tony disarm him on the opposite side, switching his grip every couple of repetitions. He knows Tony avoids him, but Bucky doesn’t avoid him in return, not anymore. He sees the new lines in Tony’s face every time they have another session. He sees how he works his fingers to the bone on Bucky’s arm, on Rhodes’ leg braces, on Spider-man’s suit, on keeping them all safe and free. He sees that Tony is very much not okay but he keeps going anyway, and Bucky tells himself that it is possible. That he can do it too. He doesn’t understand how no one else seems to notice that what Tony does is extraordinary. He doesn’t understand how anyone can take him for granted.

Finally he says quietly, “You love building things.”

Tony drops his hands from where they were raised to take the gun again, staring.

Bucky lowers his arm. “I don’t want you to get shot because then you wouldn’t be able to do what you love.”

Tony has never, in his life, been told to make things for the joy of making them. Make yourself useful, yes. Make profit. Make things so the Avengers will stick around because he’s not a hero and he’s not a team player but he sure as hell can make fancy toys to take out the bad guys. Make things because people want them from you, and if you keep doing it for long enough, they start to expect them from you. Except the truth is, Tony does love it. He loves pushing the limits of possibility. He loves creation, he loves knowledge. He’s resigned himself to giving what he makes to those who will never truly appreciate them. And now there is this man who wants nothing from him except for Tony’s own safety and possibly his continued happiness.

Bucky sets the gun prototype down on a table. “Practice what I showed you. Until you can do it automatically no matter what. Natasha will help.” He turns to leave, then pauses. Sucking up his courage, he says, “I care about you.”

Tony stands there alone in the middle of his workshop long after Bucky has gone, utterly disarmed.

[spotlightsaga]

Kevin Cage of @spotlightsaga reviews... Young Sheldon /S01\/E01\ Pilot Airdate: September 25, 2017 @CBS Ratings: 16.57 Million :: 3.7 18-49 Demo Share Score: 6.75/10 @SpotlightSaga @CulturePit *************SPOILER FREE REVIEW************* Oh, what a shame... Did we miss the party? You know, I’m not really sure who the demographic is that is giving ‘The Big Bang Theory’ all of its monstrous numbers... Ok, well, I have an idea... But I’d hate to get ahead of myself like my other half, Cody Cole. Besides, everyone is allowed a handful of ‘Guilty Pleasures’, right? I sure as hell know that I’ve got mine. Even tho I don’t use the account anymore, I used to have a Spotify Playlist for songs that appeared on the UPN turned CW Series ‘One Tree Hill’. And yes, that’s embarrassing, but that doesn’t change the fact that it’s very much true. I love ‘One Tree Hill’ and I cried like a little baby in S9 when (of course, you know I’m not going to reveal any spoilers, right?) the culmination of the main story arc that started the show off, came to one of the most tearful & satisfying conclusions ever on television. Yes, I love that show that fn’ much, ridiculous, I know... I pretend that S8 didn’t happen... But hey, when you run 9 Seasons of 20-25 Episodes, you’re bound to get some bad ideas some of the time. Now’s when you breathe your big sigh of relief... Judging by its pilot, ‘Young Sheldon’ doesn’t appear to fall in the category of ‘Guilty Pleasure’. Quite the opposite, actually. Remember how we all felt after the 1st Season of CBS ’Life In Pieces’. That hopeful, feel-good spirit was attached to something uniquely constructed with a powerhouse cast, something that didn’t normally happen on CBS, at least in such high quality... A Single Camera Sitcom. While ‘Young Sheldon’ may not look completely unique at first glance, its admittedly giving off a ‘Goldbergs-Mature’ vibe, and that’s hard to deny... But what originality it lacks within the walls of its narrative construct, it more than makes up in a fresh, restrained approach. The normal, tv-family chaos is still there, but at the epicenter of the organized madness, we have an observer... He’s not exactly a reliable narrator in theory, but he is in character. You see, Sheldon tells it like it is... And since this is something that pretty much all human children are known for... Famed Co-Creators & Co-Writers Chuck Lorre & Steven Molaro make sure that Little-Man, Iain Armitage (YS), turns up the awkward observations, just like his very own grown version and narrator, Big Sheldon Cooper (Jim Parsons) from TBBT. I’m not so sure Young Sheldon is meant to be abnormally cute, or likable for that matter. The show approaches normal, southwestern families in the 80s with a pragmatic point of view. It’s existential in nature, and feels like a show that could also feel right at home on a Streaming Network like Amazon Prime. Lorre & Armitage also know that since this is from a child’s POV, the world is scary is nature... Even to the smartest, brightest minds around. Rarely do we cover CBS Sitcoms, although we’ve been known to indulge in Bear Claw Heaven with Kevin James on ‘Kevin Can Wait’, and we’re basically almost there with the aforementioned ‘Life In Pieces’... It just had a rough S2. You see, CBS has been gearing up; polishing up the CBS All Access Network, of course TBBT is always a Network Focus, reshooting entire episodes of Star Trek, and making sure Big Brother #768 (or whatever season its on) keeps steady numbers... It’s strange when you think of all the factors that can have some sort of snowball effect on the finished product of a Big 4 Network TV Series. It shouldn’t come as a shock to anyone that clearly the Network Giant’s focus has also very much been on this show as well. It’s clear, crystal clear, that CBS is very much behind ‘Young Sheldon’. To say this series was handled with care is an understatement. It’s polished, introspective, and brushes off chances to pull cheap laughs... Everything a normal CBS Sitcom doesn’t do. Even the placement of its pilot’s timeslot, garnering such big numbers off of the Season Premiere of its parent show, TBBT, has never really turned results in such spectacular fashion as it did here... Holding all 16.5 Live Million Viewers from the first half hour and keeping the mass majority of its coveted 18-49 demographic too. I guarantee they nurse this bad boy all the way through an ungodly amount of episodes. Why not? Honestly, it works. ‘The Goldbergs’ are growing up, right out of the 80s, and AMC’s ‘Halt and Catch Fire’ is heading into its 4th & final season. There’s a niche and it needs to be filled, and it looks like we have our first guest. Many of us have a deep connection to this era the show is set in, but none of us have seen it through this kind of lens. The big question isn’t the quality... You know CBS, it’s about money and longevity, because longevity not only brings in a steady supply of money, it also gives them something to brand... But that’s kind of why it’s so surprising that ‘Young Sheldon’ isn’t coming right out of the gate trying to push anything other than its own value. I have a strict policy when it comes to Sitcoms, whether they’re multi-cam or single-cam, doesn’t matter... Each series gets a fair shake... And a 21 Minute Episode built off a general idea will not tell you how far a show can go or how good a show will be.... Theres just no way! All kinds of shows out there start slow and then end up turning out relentless bangers on a regular basis, a few episodes, or even a season or 2 down the road... And then there is the exact opposite, where we see a show start out red hot and straight up fizzle out like a fading star right before our very eyes. I think it’s important for everyone to not judge this one too quickly... Maybe ‘Young Sheldon’ isn’t for that same ‘TBBT’ audience, maybe it’s meant to strike a different chord. It sure feels like it. ***************Written By Kevin Cage**************** TVTime/Letterboxd/FB/IG/Path/Pin/Tumblr/Twitter: @SpotlightSaga 📺 TVTime📺 http://www.tvtime.com ✅Spotlight Saga FB Page! Give us a like!✅ http://www.facebook.com/spotlightsaga 🚧Spotlight Saga's Main Page is Under Works🚧 http://www.spotlightsaga.com 🔥The Culture Pit FB Group🔥 http://www.facebook.com/groups/ArtsEntertainment @CulturePit Kevin Cage // Justin O'Malley // Cody Cole // Jerry Wilson // Kat Holiday // Carolyn Holt // Yackarette Borge // Carina Enered //

[tofuingho]

What if the Teen Titans/Young Justice /Justice League show up to stop Klarion and the unknown person from whatever nefarious deeds they have planned?

What if one of the magic user's spells actually hurts Danny?

What if Danny does what small children do when hurt and starts crying for his dad?

Or what if Danny does the other thing that small children do when they get hurt and goes Hulk mode?

Prompt 225

Klarion is EXCITED. He's absolutely DELIGHTED even, unable to sit still as he flits from place to place. His baby cousin! Is! Visiting! Which OBVIOUSLY means he, as the older one, must make sure the main places are still standing so he can show his itty bitty baby cousin EVERYTHING! After all, he's never gotten to be the older one! He's always been the youngest in the family! But now he has an itty bitty toddler cousin- form recently shifted to match- to teach the ways of Chaos to! He's so EXCITED!

The League and heroes on the other hand, are Very concerned about Why the Witch Boy has been spotted in practically every major city in the US in the last few days. What is he planning?!