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fletchphoenix · 3 years

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Change Of Plans

Chapter 3 of Hugo’s story - I’m thinking this is just the main 7k storyline but from Hugo’s (kinda) perspective! Hope you enjoy!

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Hugo groaned as Olivia rolled on the pillow beside his head, pushing the mechanical rodent away before immediately groaning in pain at the throbbing feeling in his shoulder. The hell was that? Oh. Yeah. Bullet wound. Mumbling, he pushed himself into a sitting position and flexed the metallic fingers of his prosthetic arm, glancing down at it and frowning at the reminder of his past.

He’d only just left the orphanage in town, not wanting to stay there and rot after he’d been tossed back and forth between orphanages and foster homes and just being abandoned each time by people. In his defence, he’d been needing parts to fix Olivia and the guy at the stall had his back turned - he really thought it would be an easy steal. Just get what he needed and go to his alley and fix Olivia.

But of course life was never that simple for Hugo, was it?

The guy had caught him, grabbing his arm and slicing it clean off until it was nothing but a bloody stump that cut off at his elbow. He was just a kid too - only just turned ten when the incident had happened, though that was the day he’d met Donella and been taken in by her. She’d done a lot for him, creating the prosthetic and training him in self defence, though it didn’t change or erase the memories that he was haunted with.

Hugo sighed softly, his hand sliding over his bedside table and picking up a few spheres full of alchemical compounds. After obtaining the spheres, he pressed a little button on the side of his prosthetic, a section popping up before he slid them into it and pressed it down gently to secure them in their hiding place.

Rising to his feet, Hugo changed into his clothes and stretched out, grumbling in pain as he, once again, hurt his shoulder. He pushed his glasses up his nose and reached out to take his hair tie, tying his hair back into a ponytail and heading towards the door.

Donella had said there was a mission for him, though he really wasn’t sure what she wanted. Hopefully it was just a short mission.

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It was not a short mission.

After an extensive explanation on her previous studies, which Hugo had almost fallen asleep in the middle of, she revealed where he was headed. Koto, aka one of his least favourite places to be, only topped by Ingvarr and the security there. Damn, Koto was terrible, and now Donella had doomed him to go there and make sure this..random child didn’t try to steal some ‘ancient totem’ because her ‘livelihood and career depended on it’.

He sat on a roof silently, watching as the two boys weaved through people in a crowd towards a rather large lion statue, the smaller of the two babbling and seemingly annoying the taller one. Hugo’s head tilted slightly as he examined the taller boy, leaning forward slightly with a satisfied grin. He was kinda cute if he was being honest, the way he was trying to calm down the younger boy mesmerising Hugo in a way that he couldn’t describe. Hugo could tell from afar that he had buck teeth as well, a smile creeping its way onto Hugo’s face as he watched him awkwardly smile and talk to different stall owners. He genuinely looked happy to be there.

So naive.

The smaller boy beside him seemed very overexcited, pretty much jumping like a puppy and wondering at his side. If he didn’t know any better, he’d assume the pair were mentor and mentee, not just some people who met on a farm out of desperation. Hugo silently watched as they turned a corner and went out of sight, obscured by one of the red, paper lanterns that hung from rope across the city.

“Shit. Well Olivia, looks like we’ve gotta scavenge, sweetheart.” Hugo sighed, exasperated as he carefully made his way down from the roof and shifted in between bodies stuck in a crowd, Olivia squeaking from her place in his pocket. He felt like he’d travelled through endless crowds trying to track down the pair, though he couldn’t find them whatsoever. Curse his targets being small. A groan left his lips as he moved to the sidelines, a hand running through his fringe. Why did he even say yes to this job in the first place? He could’ve just said-

“Okay I think the entrance is here.” A voice echoed down an alleyway, Hugo slipping into it and positioning himself behind a wall as he watched the two younger boys press a few buttons and head down a staircase hidden underneath the statue. His job just got a whole lot easier, the blonde sneaking over after a few minutes and heading down the staircase.

This was about to be the easiest job in his life.

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Hugo easily stepped through the trials, the two boys providing him a clear path to his goal. It was almost heavenly, being able to do what Donella wanted so easily. His eyes studied the room he was in as he strolled through it, ears trained to listen out for any traps that might be situated in the room.

The space itself was..rather pretty. Red pillars rose to the equally red ceiling of the cavern, seemingly carved out from the earth itself, which was plausible considering how far down he was under the ground. Emerald dragons curled up the dragons, with golden details at the top and on the walls surrounding him. He smiled smugly as he strutted past them, his hand wrapping around it.

“Hey! That belongs to us!” The same voice from earlier exclaimed, Hugo turning his head to meet the blue eyes of the pretty boy from earlier, the grin on his face widening. This day couldn’t get any better - upon a closer inspection of the teen’s face, he could see all the little freckles that decorated it and made tiny constellations across his cheeks.

“Yeah, we earned it!” the shorter boy complained, Hugo paying him no mind as he lifted the totem to his face and studied it. There was an abundance of little intricate details that decorated the totem, notably a little fire symbol in the centre and a slight reddish tint to the wood and overall design of the totem.

“Huh, weird. Cause I’m sort of the one who’s holding it...so I feel like that sort of means that it belongs to me-” He began before being rudely interrupted by the pretty boy, his wooden staff pointed out at the blonde as his face twisted into an expression of anger and resentment towards the man. It wasn’t a good look on him.

“No way! We completed the trial, not you! Whoever you are..Hand over the totem!” he yelled as the smaller boy fished into his pocket to point a red tube over at Hugo. So they wanted to do this the hard way, huh? Well, that sucked. He really wanted the pretty boy to be less confrontational, but when does anything in his life go right at this point?

“I like your magic wand. S’pretty!” He declared simply before glancing over at the smaller child with a smile. “Ooh! And some fireworks! How fun! But, you two are adorable,” He shot a wink to the taller of the pair, smirking at his discomfort in pleasure, “but I’m on a schedule, so..” And with that, he raised his prosthetic, ejecting a sulfur-infused stink bomb from its chamber in his arm and rushing away under the blue smoke as the two boys coughed and wheezed.

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“You shoulda seen their faces, Cyrus! It was hilarious!” He laughed as the stronger, stoic man ushered him towards his boss’ tent. “Geez, couldn’t ya be a bit softer on a poor little orphan boy?” Hugo complained, Cyrus rolling his eyes and resorting to (quite literally) shoving the boy through the entrance and straight into his boss. “Hey Don. Got your glorified wood.”

“What took you so long? I thought I said it was a fast assignment.” Donella, as optimistic as ever, picked up the totem and examined it closely, something resembling a smile taking its place on her face before she glanced at the blonde again. “I’m waiting.”

“Oh yeah.” Hugo began, folding his arms and stretching. “Well, there were these two kids who were doing the weird little tasks in the room. One of ‘em was a tiny kid. Seemed local to the area and acted like a dog. And there was one with this long ass staff, a book and a blue streak in his hair.” His boss’ head shot up at that, her breath hitching for just a moment, though it was almost unnoticeable because of the noise outside the tent from her henchmen. “Ma’am?”

“Ulla’s boy.” She whispered under her breath as a hand raised to thread through her hair, Hugo’s eyebrow raising in confusion at the sudden change in atmosphere, before his boss raised her head with a smug expression.

“You’ve had a change in assignment. I want you to become...acquainted with those boys and finish the trials with them. Then, when you’re done, report back to me with all the totems. I’ll be willing to give you a generous raise in pay when you’re through. Enough to get you to the higher tiers of Pittsford. So. What do you say?” She grinned before pausing. “Hugo.”

Hugo stood in silence for a second as he raised his eyebrow at Donella skeptically. She was offering all he ever wanted. A home in the higher tiers of Pittsford, money, a life of luxury, and judging by the look in her eyes, she was being one hundred percent serious. But could he risk being away for that long with kids who have the potential to figure out he’s lying to them? “You aren’t kidding are you?” He saw a nod from his peripheral vision and a sigh passed through his lips. “See ya later then, boss. Don’t miss me too much.” He muttered as he left the tent, totem in hand and bag swung over his shoulder. Brilliant. Now he had to convince these kids that they could trust him.

It didn’t take him long to find the pair wandering through the forest aimlessly, carefully slipping in behind them. “Hey.” He began, a puff of smoke in his face as some kind of vial was thrown to the floor and a cloud of smoke filled his vision. He coughed and tried to move, glancing down at his feet. Some kind of pink goo kept him stationary as the pretty boy paced around him and looked him up and down. “Like what you see?” he chuckled at the flush on the boy’s face before the staff was raised to press against his throat. “Relax, goggles. I haven’t got any traps on me. Just wanted to return this with a proposal.”

Hugo reached into his bag to present the totem, the raven haired boy immediately trying to swipe for it before Hugo raised it above his head. “Ah ah ah! Patience. Me and the totem are a package deal. Let me come with you and get the rest of the totems.”

The trio stood in silence for a second before the taller boy spoke up. “Why should we trust you? And why the sudden change in heart?” He questioned, an eyebrow raised and lowering the staff a little, the wood now knocking against Hugo’s orange-tinted glasses that hung around his neck. Good. He was letting his guard down.

“Because i’m devilishly handsome, and I saw you two little helpless children and decided that I couldn’t leave two kids to suffer through such...strenuous trials.” Hugo glanced up to see two unimpressed faces staring back at him, letting out a frustrated sigh. “I felt bad and thought you needed someone to stop you from getting robbed. Oh, and the name’s Hugo. Don’t wear it out.”

The two boys locked eyes, silently debating for a few seconds, before finally the older relented and sprinkled a solution over the goo that covered the blonde’s feet. “I’m Varian.” He stated as he stood back up, “And the small one is Yong. Try anything and we’re taking the totems and leaving you in the nearest kingdom, is that clear?”

“Crystal.” Hugo replied as he began to walk forward. “Cmon then! We have some totems to collect!” he declared, a grin on his face at the sheer stupidity of the two teens and how easy this mission was gonna be.

His dream was finally coming true.

#tangled varian #varian tangled #tangled hugo #hugo tangled #varian and the seven kingdoms #rapunzels tangled adventure #tangled the series #tangled donella #donella tangled #yong tangled #tangled yong

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bruciewayne · 5 years

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ask him to ask you

stevetony, fluff, highschool au, mutual pining

Tony’s things clatter onto the table and Tony himself follows, practically collapsing opposite Steve.

They’re in the diner they’ve been going to for the past few years every Friday after school. Steve can’t tell if he hates that Bucky calls it date-night, or if he wishes that it was.

“PhD finally beat you?” Steve teases.

Tony glares at him, offended, “No.” He drinks his coffee as grumpily as he can until Steve asks him what’s wrong. Steve definitely shouldn’t find this as amusing as he does.

“What happened?”

“Turns out,” Tony starts, dropping his cup on the table and turning to Steve (occasionally, Steve gets a headrush from Tony’s full attention, the overwhelming intensity of it, all focused on him. Today is one of those times. Most days are, if he’s being honest.), “I’m not allowed to go to prom!”

Steve’s mouth is too full to answer properly, so he makes a suitably shocked face.

“Because my attendance is shit! Apparently I’ve been ‘classed as a student’ even though everyone knows I’m a TA and I’m in college half the week. AND they said it was all fine at the start of the year. But I guess not!”

Steve knows how much this means to Tony. Not prom specifically, just the whole ‘normal teenage experience’. And because of how important it is to Tony, and because he’s spent far too much of his life finding loopholes (which only got worse when he met Bucky in kindergarten and then Matt, in freshman year), he says quite possibly the worst thing he could to the guy he’s maybe, a little, (definitely, a lot) in love with.

“Be someone’s plus-one, no attendance rules against that,” he suggests, even as everything in his body and mind screams at him to shut up.

He tells himself that it’s worth it when Tony lights up and calls him a genius as he whips out his phone, fingers flying over the keypad.

“Bucky, help me--”

“Is it Tony related?”

“Maybe.”

Bucky sighs and nudges Steve with his foot until he hands him the popcorn bowl.

“Well,” he says, once he has his mouth full, “what stupid thing did you do?”

“Um. Well, you know how much Tony wanted to go to prom?”

“Sure.”

“The school said that he couldn’t ’cause of his attendance, so we found a loophole and long story short I told him to ask someone to prom,” Steve says, trying as hard as he can to not look at Bucky, because he knows that he has his ‘You’re so goddamn stupid’ face on.

“Someone who isn’t you?”

“Someone who isn’t me.”

Bucky’s silent for all of three seconds. “Why did you ask him to prom?”

“Oh yeah, why didn’t I ask him in a crowded diner and lose both my dignity and one of my best friends in the span of five seconds?” Steve says, sarcastically, throwing kernels at Bucky.

“Even if he did say no, he wouldn’t be a dick about it--”

“He’d think it was a joke,” Steve grumbles.

Bucky hums and concedes his point. “Yeah, but he wouldn’t be a dick about it.”

“Buck.”

“Steve.”

“He’s gonna find the love of his life and if not for prom, then probably at college, if he hasn’t already and it’s not gonna be me,” Steve says in a small voice, in a rush.

Bucky tugs him into a rough hug, saying more than he ever properly could.

“Buckaroo! Can I talk to you for a minute?”

Steve freezes when he hears that, just a couple feet in front of him and Sam crashes into him. His heart drops straight out of his chest when Tony drags Bucky out of the lunch line to the corner of the cafeteria, out of earshot of everyone.

“He’s not gonna ask him to prom,” Sam says, confidently.

“I know that,” Steve defends, even as he focuses on Not Looking at them.

“Bucky already has a date.”

Steve grins, despite himself, “Oh yeah?”

Sam smiles back, “Yeah.”

“About fucking time.”

Watching Sam and Bucky pine after each other in the absolute dumbest, most ridiculous way possible, in the way that only those two could, for at least the last two years (or maybe even longer), had been a small hell on his part, so he’s happy for them. Hopefully, it’ll mean that he’s no longer playing the middle man for them.

“I wasn’t stealing your man, just looking for advice,” Tony says when they rejoin the line.

“And you went to Buck?” Steve says, incredulously, masking the (stupid, dumb, irrational) hurt. He gets a punch in the arm and a glare for the trouble.

“I’ll have you know that I can be very advisable.”

“You once told me to taste different paint to see if the colour changed the flavour!”

Sam looks between the two of them, “You ate paint because you thought it was flavoured?”

“He told me to!” Steve accuses. In his defence, he had been curious.

Tony tries, and fails, to hide a laugh, “Now, Steven, if Bucky jumped off a bridge--”

“You’re spending far too much time with my mother,” Steve grumbles.

“No such thing,” Tony says, simply.

They get their food and Steve pushes anything to do with prom and Tony to the back of his mind in favour of poking fun at Sam and Bucky.

“-- I’ll make sure that he doesn’t suspect a thing, honey, yeah, okay, have a good day, sweetie.”

“Make sure who doesn’t suspect a thing?” Steve asks, dropping his bag on the floor and kicking off his shoes as his ma hangs up the phone.

“I thought I taught you better than to eavesdrop, and I know that I taught you better than to leave your shoes like that,” his ma says, pointing at his haphazardly thrown shoes, barely a foot away from the rack. Steve rolls his eyes but he goes to righten his shoes anyway.

His ma gives him a quick hug, “How was your day?”

Steve shrugs noncommittally, following her into the kitchen. “Eh. Nothing new, prom stuff, college stuff.”

“You wanna go?” She asks, turning on the oven and pulling a dish out of the fridge. Steve takes out plates and cutlery and starts to set the table.

“Prom? I don’t have anyone to ask.”

“What about Tony?” His ma asks, innocently.

“What-what about Tony?” Steve asks, matching her innocence, looking up from where he’s sitting.

“Steven.”

“Ma!”

“I’ve seen the way that boy looks at you, and the way you look at him.”

“I told him to take--”

“Someone else? Yeah, James told me about that.”

Steve groans and lets his head drop onto the table, “Does everyone report to you?”

“Only when you’ve forgotten your common sense.”

Steve resists the urge to bang his head on the table, just barely. His ma sets the timer and then comes to sit beside him.

“Steve.”

“Yeah.”

She brushes his hair back, “You two are gonna be fine, I promise.”

Steve lets out a long, high pitched whine, mostly muffled by the table.

Later, when he’s ready to go to sleep, he fiddles with a Rubic’s Revenge cube, twisting it so all the colours jumble together and then twisting it back to organisation.

“I don’t know how to fix it,” Tony, the boy who’s so much smarter than them all, the boy who can go head to head with highschool seniors, despite being half their height, says to him, handing him the cube, still all mixed up.

“You don’t fix it,” Steve replies, twisting the cube and swinging his legs, feet barely brushing the tarmac as Tony watches, enthralled. “You solve it, like a maths thing.” He shows him the side he just solved, red. His best record is one and a half sides, but his ma can do all the sides.

“Like a puzzle?”

“Game.”

“My father says that games are a waste of time,” Tony mumbles.

Steve hands him the cube, rejumbled, “Tell him it’s one of those maths things.”

On his birthday, Tony gives him a new cube, a four-by-four one, called Rubic’s Revenge, because Steve told him to keep the other one. It took him until the summer to solve one side and then until he was in the fifth grade to do all.

“Hey, uh, Mrs. Rogers, Sarah, I’m just, um, calling, well, leaving a message, messaging? Anyway. Um, the stuff, for Steve, I have it, well, I still need to fix a, uh thing in the thing but it’ll be done by tomorrow, by Friday. And, uh, thanks, for all of this, really. Um, goodbye. Thank you.”

Tony hangs up the phone and re-focusses on the cube in front of him, moving the magnifier above a tiny little mechanism. It’s an almost-replica of a Rubic’s Revenge, made of wood, when Steve solves it, it should open to show ‘Will you take me to prom?’. Keyword being should.

He solves it, of course he does, and then spends half the night convincing himself not to destroy it and tell Sarah that he made a mistake. Bucky told him that if he didn’t ask Steve to ask him to prom, he would do it for them himself. On the school intercom.

He spends the other half convincing himself not to down an entire bottle of Daniel’s. Sarah, Bucky, Steve and he himself would never be able to forgive him if he asked Steve out hungover. He doesn’t know if the fact that at least four people refuse to let him ask Steve out hungover is a blessing or a curse.

He works on the Riemann hypothesis until he can barely keep his eyes open.

The next day he’s half-awake in college. The professor tells him he’s happy to see him sober.

“PhD finally beat your ass?” Steve asks, pushing a muffin and a mocha towards him after he drops his many, many bags.

Tony takes half the muffin in his mouth, “You sound like Bucky,” he says, though it sounds more like ‘mmm mmmf mmf mmfmm’.

“I’ve sounded like Bucky for as long as you’ve known me,” Steve retorts, grinning at him over his hot chocolate.

Tony fakes a look of shock. “How have I just realised?”

If this were a date, Steve would say something like ‘love makes you blind’, and Tony would maybe laugh and then lean over the table to kiss him and he’d smile. But it’s not. So he says, “‘Cause you’re an idiot,” instead.

If this were a date, Tony would say something like ‘your idiot’, and Steve would maybe laugh and then lean over the table to kiss him and he’d smile. But it’s not. Yet (hopefully, so damn hopefully), anyway. So he says, “Started a PhD before most people got their college acceptance letters,” instead.

“Selectively appearing brain cells,” Steve says.

Tony outright groans at that, “You’re lucky that Bruce isn’t here.”

“I don’t need biology to know that I’m right.”

“Sound like Bucky!”

“Arguably not a bad thing.”

Tony gives Steve a look. “I will survey everyone who’s ever had to come into contact with Barnes.”

“I’ll ask my ma.”

“Cheater.”

“He’s your best friend!” Steve says, in a sing-song voice.

“Rhodey might have a problem with that.”

Steve just shrugs and they lapse into a comfortable silence, drinking their drinks.

“I have something for you,” Tony says, suddenly, putting down his cup and rummaging around in one of his bags. He hands him the cube, hand shaking slightly.

Steve turns it in his hands. A wooden Rubic’s Revenge. “You made it?”

Tony nods, nervous. “Solve it.”

“Time?”

Tony nods again and looks at his watch. “Go.” He watches Steve’s hands fly over the cube, fast and gentle at the same time. “A minute-twenty,” he says, smiling back at Steve as he places the solved cube on the table, grandly. He’s exactly on par with his personal best, and the look on his face quells some of the nervousness Tony feels, just hoping that the little, tiny mechanism works.

The cube folds out into a long line of six squares. WILL YOU ASK ME TO PROM?

Steve smiles, so Tony takes that as a good sign, “Before I ask I gotta know, is it because you want to go to prom or ’cause you like me ‘cause--”

“I’ve liked you since you told me to lie to my father, and I’ve probably loved you since you gave me that damn Rubic’s cube and I’ve known that I love you since you punched Beck in fifth grade.”

Steve stares at him, “Will you go to prom with me?”

“I’d love to.”

Steve does what he’s wanted to do for the past few years they’ve been going to this cafe and lunges across the table to kiss him. It’s a little awkward, and he thinks that he hears Angie, who runs the cafe, yell finally!, but honestly, he’s not paying much attention to anything or anyone who’s not Tony.

“I, uh, love you too, have done for too long to remember what’s it like not to, to be honest,” Steve says, when they pull away.

Tony drags him back into another, then another and again and again until Steve’s lightheaded in the best way possible.

(Three years later, after his graduation, Steve hands him a wooden three-by-three. When Tony solves it, it springs open and there’s a shining, silver-coloured key.)

((And two years after that, Tony gives him a two-by-two cube, and when Steve solves it, and when it creaks open, there’s a ring, gleaming. He says yes.))

for ‘promposal’ on happy steve bingo

#steve rogers x tony stark #steve x tony #stevetony fic #stony fic #steve rogers #tony stark #my fic #my writing #happystevebingo #happy steve bingo #i hate that someo of this was inspired my ltroi

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sunsetinmyvein · 6 years

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Just Off the Key of Reason - Chapter Thirteen - A Reception Less Than Warm

A/N - It’s Chicagoan, for the record.

Saturday, 16th of June, 2007 - Portland, Oregon

‘Tense’ would’ve been the appropriate word to explain how the atmosphere had changed between their first and second leg. Patrick didn’t want to abandon his girlfriend when she didn’t know anyone else, but nobody wanted to hang out with him when he was busy fawning over her. The awkward love triangle that now existed also wasn’t fun for anyone and they all felt like they had to walk on eggshells to make sure they didn’t say something out of line. As a result, Patrick and his girlfriend just spent all of their time together. He found himself feeling isolated and like a socialite all at the same time. At the Washington show he spent more of his time showing her around than actually doing sound check and making sure he was ready to play, leaving most of the band rolling their eyes every time he stopped in the middle of his checks to explain something to her (though, Pete could hardly complain when he dropped his bass in an attempt to reply to a text from his own girlfriend). Everyone had the nagging feeling that six was a crowd, particularly considering that there were only six beds on the bus that were all already taken between the five of them and the driver. Even Patrick had to admit that sharing his bunk wasn’t enjoyable and it was not something he had entirely thought through. He didn’t like cramming himself into one at the best of times and having to share that space was fairly uncomfortable, even despite the company. They made the three hour drive to Oregon through the night after their first second leg show and then had the day to either explore what they could before the show in Portland or sit around on the tour bus. After a restless night’s sleep, nobody felt much like walking around before they had to play a set.

The summer air was finally starting to have that dense, humid heat to it and they were fast realising that six was also a crowd when you’re all crammed into a tiny lounge room with sticky leather seats. Patrick had been sent on a coffee run with his girlfriend so that everyone else could get some space from ‘Oh, no way, that’s my favourite too!’ before they did something they’d regret. Despite removing a third of their numbers, the bus did not cool down any and in fact only seemed to grow warmer as the minutes passed. “Is it just me, or is the tour bus stuffy?” Pete thought aloud as his eyes scanned the wall for an air conditioning panel or at least a fan. Andy nodded in agreement from behind his book. Joe jutted his foot in the direction of the kitchen, where he could vaguely see the controls for a central cooling system. “Wow, they really went all out.” He muttered as he forcibly removed himself from the couch that was stuck to the underside of his thighs and walked over to it.

“Yeah, they fucking better have after making us sort our own shit out for the first leg.” Joe grumbled as he sprawled across the couch into Pete’s now empty space.

“I’ve heard around the office that if Pete didn’t cost you guys so much money on those paintings he so desperately needed, the tour would’ve been like this the whole way through.”

“Look, I know you work for our boss and all, but can we not talk work when we’re dying of heatstroke?” Pete glared down at the girl lying on the linoleum floor of the kitchen. “Why are you even down there?”

“It’s cooler.” She shrugged lazily.

“Nothing is as cool as me, babe.” He winked. She rolled her eyes as a chorus of groans sounded from the lounge room.

He fiddled with the dials on the wall, trying to work out how to turn the bus into an ice arena as soon as physically possible. He would much rather be freezing to death than slowly melting. As he pulled the dial as hard as it would go to the cold side, he felt it snap off in his fingers.

“Oh… I… Uh…” He stammered quietly to himself, trying to fit the dial back onto the switch before anyone noticed. At the sounds of Pete’s panic she sat up off the floor, trying to see what he was hiding.

“What did you do?” She asked in suspicion.

“Nothing.” He lied as she got to her feet and grabbed his hand. Upon seeing the now totally out of shape and half broken dial that would definitely not fit back on the wall panel, she glared at him.

“Oh… my God…” She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration.

“Actually, just Pete is fine.” He shot back with a shit eating grin.

“How do you always do this shit?” She muttered in exasperation as she tried to fit the deformed piece of plastic back to the wall. “I don’t even know why I asked to come back.” She added under her breath.

“You… You asked to come back..?” Patrick interrupted.

She turned around in surprise to see that Patrick was now standing in the doorway behind them, take-away coffees in hand. He looked like he’d just been slapped in the face.

“Uh… yeah, I did.” Her face burning up from the admission. There was a moment of silence as he stared at her in confusion, the tension building between them.

“But you… why?” He frowned down at the coffees in his hand.

“She couldn’t get enough of the Wentz magic.” Pete declared loudly as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “I know she was hired to babysit me, but-” he moved his hand to next to his mouth in an attempt to seem secretive, “-I’m pretty sure she’s in love with me and bribed the label.” He whispered loudly. She elbowed him harshly in the ribs.

“I did not, Pete.” She growled through gritted teeth as she shrugged his arm off.

“No, you’re right. It’s because I stole some shit while we were on break. She found out and told them her role was still necessary.” He lied. She opened her mouth to correct him before realising that he was trying to cover for her. Her mouth slowly closed as she tried to work out why Pete was doing this for her. It wasn’t exactly like him to put himself on the line for others. In her deliberation, it seemed that Patrick was happy enough to accept that as an answer, or just happy enough to leave the conversation, pushing his way past them still half hidden behind his hat. His girlfriend followed closely behind, seemingly oblivious to how awkward that interaction had just been, as they made their way into the lounge. Pete went to walk off as well but she caught his hoodie sleeve and pulled him back towards the front of the bus.

“Why did you lie for me?” She asked lowly.

“Don’t friends do shit like that for each other?” He said with a shrug, slipping his sleeve out of her grasp and going to get his cup of caffeinated sugary goodness.

They still had a few hours before they needed to go into the venue for sound check, and drinking their coffees could only fill that void so much. Eventually people either decided to watch a b-grade action movie playing on a local TV station in the lounge, or opted to sit in the tiny dining area and play cards. As time passed, the damage that Pete had done became apparent. Slowly but surely their tour bus began freezing from the inside out. The warm, humid air from outside the bus was almost causing condensation on the inside of the windows because they were so cold. Their breaths were ever so slightly foggy and bones starting to feel an unusual level of chill. Blankets were pulled from bunks to go across couches and shoulders, layers were piled on. Pete was overjoyed that his plan had worked; he wouldn’t have to face the summer heat. However the full time worrier and part time loss prevention representative wasn’t willing to survive a month in a cooler. She had tried at least a million times to fit that dial back on the wall, but it was no use.

“We need to call someone to fix this as soon as they can.” She huffed, a slight shiver finding its way into her voice as she fished her phone out of her pocket. Maybe she could find a nearby mechanic that might be able to help.

“It’s really not that bad.” Joe shrugged from underneath his three jumpers.

“Just rug up.” Andy added, throwing a beanie towards her from where he was laying in his bunk, under a blanket.

“Why do you guys have all this? It’s June. I didn’t pack for cold weather.”

“We Chicagonians are always prepared for winter at any given time.” Joe stated matter-of-factly, throwing an ace onto the table.

“I don’t think that’s a word. Or true.” She said as she rifled through her bag in the hopes of finding more than the one jacket she knew she packed.

“Chicag-ish..?” He muttered to himself, stroking the stubble that was forming on his chin.

“Chicagonese.” Pete corrected. He took the cards back and began shuffling the deck.

“You’re both idiots.” She grumbled as she pulled on an extra pair of socks.

“Just borrow my hoodie.” Patrick called from the back lounge. Looking up at the source of his voice, she saw him sitting across the couch at the back of the bus with his girlfriend’s legs resting across his lap. She tried not to wince at the sight but the uncomfortable feeling of jealousy still settled itself at the bottom of her chest. As she glanced down at the bus floor in an attempt to not have to look at the scene in the lounge, she saw the offending blue and white hoodie that he was referring to. She didn’t overly want to be borrowing Patrick’s clothes at this particular point in time, but she also didn’t want to freeze to death.

“Are you sure?” She asked hesitantly, almost certain she could feel Pete’s eyes boring into the back of her head.

“Yeah, I mean it hasn’t been washed since we left for tour, but it should still be pretty clean.” He shrugged. After one last moment of deliberation, she picked it up off the floor and pulled it over her head.

It was definitely a few sizes too big, but that just made it a perfect defence from the onslaught of cold from the central cooling vents. The sleeves went down past the tips of her fingers and the hood would most certainly cover her nose if she had it up. He had been right that it was still mostly clean; the smell of washing powder still lingered on it and she couldn’t see the tell-tale stains that normally adorned their tour clothes. However, the undeniable smell of Patrick also lingered the threads, much to her annoyance. She walked over to where Joe and Pete were playing cards and sat next to Joe, while Pete just stared at her expectantly from across the table.

“What?” She asked with a frown.

“Nothing,” He shrugged. “I’m just surprised you don’t want a moment alone with the hoodie, is all.” He added quietly. She kicked him under the table as hard as she could muster, earning a loud yelp from him.

“Shut the fuck up.” She growled at him, picking a card up from the table and flicking it into his forehead. Joe quietly sniggered next to her.

They finally got called into the venue for sound check and were freed from their wintery prison of mild boredom. As much as she hated to admit it, the hoodie was oddly comforting. The sudden change in temperature to summer heat wasn’t enough of a motivator for her to part with it, instead rolling up the sleeves and continuing to work with it on. She hated how quickly she had already grown attached to it and how quickly it had dredged up things she was trying to ignore for the greater good. Patrick hated how good she looked in it.

#Patrick Stump #Patrick Stump x Reader #Sunsetinmyvein

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anotherramblingfangirl · 6 years

Text

Take the Fifth:

Summary:

After all that she's done for it, Quintessa will not allow Cybetron to be destroyed. Nor will she ever allow the great devourer to rise once more.

Even if the only way she sees that can ensure both of these things, requires the deaths of over 7 billion people

Link: AO3

Fic:

She made them.

She made them and was one of the first to be made.

The fifth.

Only a few like her even existed at the start. Those created by Primus himself, those who existed for a purpose: to ward off a great evil.

His brother. His opposite. The great devourer.

Unicron.

And they fulfilled that role.

One long, long battle filled with so much destruction left him decrepit. Not dead, not yet.

But defeated, left derelict and banished away for now.

It was then that she had time to think, as the rest of her siblings turned to their own ambitions.

During this battle against chaos himself, she'd witnessed so many civilisations as he'd been pushed back from one planet to the next.

People, not built for any purpose, but simply living their lives. Building their own civilisations and striving for greatness as one whole community.

So many wondrous civilisations like that.

So full of growing, thriving life.

And she wanted it.

She had nothing against any of her fellow Primes, not yet, not then, but they were so few.

Why did they have to be so few? They were powerful, they had a habitable planet in Cybertron that could house billions and yet they numbered only just over a dozen.

That could not stand. She would not let that stand.

Cybertronians would have their civilisation too.

She would not just be a Prime.

She would be the Prime of Life.

She would see her dream through.

First, it came time to practice. She would not let her own people be the test run.

A few words whispered in ears, Primes and aliens alike convinced that their own goals would be furthered by her own...just a few lies told.

Here and there.

It would be worth it in the end. When it was done.

They would thank her.

That's what she told herself as the first part of her plan came to fruition.

As she breathed life into a new race. Albeit one that was organic, not mechanical like her.

They named themselves and the planet they resided after her.

Her subjects.

It was then that her trouble started. Had she known then, been older then, wiser then, she might have been more careful.

But back then...well, back then she was Quintus Prime and everything was going perfectly in her mind. Why should she make any changes to her plan?

So she set about her task.

Leading Liege Maximo onto her side had been easy enough. Wouldn't like subjects to rule over, after all? Cybertronians were glorious, should they not take more steps to spread that glory? Wouldn't it be fun?

All he had to do, was to spread some half-truths here and forget to mention a few facts there, and it would be easy.

All he had to do, was exactly what he already did.

Alchemist and Solus were harder.

They did not have such lusts for power, anxious to be exploited.

But they did have one thing that could be used, in that they were far more like her than of their other siblings.

They loved to create too.

Craft magnificent inventions that would not be found anywhere else across the stars.

Would creating life not be another magnificent and yet also wholly benevolent challenge?

That appeal there, was what got her the Emberstone crafted.

An artefact that could breathe life into metal.

An artefact that, at some point, came to later be called the Allspark.

They questioned what she would do with it. Solus being especially insistent and Quintus knew that Alchemist would have been too, had he not spent so much time partying, overcharged, with aliens.

They knew that harvesting enough resources required to do what they wished could not be done to Cybertron, not without rendering it too barren to support the new life they aimed to create.

She told them not to worry. She had a solution and would sort the problem.

They called her too idealistic as she turned in private to her first creations.

They had been made by her and would obey her in this.

Would they not like mechanical subjects too, after all? Servants to help with tasks too dangerous for any organic to have to do.

Should they help her they will share in her power and rule alongside the Primes as was their right.

The deception was necessary.

While she may have created them, they were unruly.

They knew that as her progeny she had a soft spot for them, would not just wipe them out should they prove troublesome, and repeatedly they had tried to exploit that.

Should she let down her guard for even a moment they would gain the upper hand.

But again, she was a Prime and back then the idea of anyone gaining the upper-hand over her was preposterous.

So she had them set their best scientist into building the Seeds, away from the prying eyes of her people to help make her people. Then she sent of their best explorers to put them to use.

Not just any metal would do. She had a very specific ideal for how things should turn out.

Once her subjects had fulfilled their role and brought the desired metals to it, it was then a matter of making something of it.

A fraught process and also the specific point where they started unjustly turning against her.

Where did you get that metal Quintus?

That was none of any of their businesses. She didn't see any of them offering to help in retrieving it, so they had no right to ask of her now.

And besides, she hardly knew herself. Her subjects had been free to collect from wherever they saw fit. She didn't know the specifics and was as such hardly fit to answer whether any planets chosen were populated.

She was sure if there were, they'd recover eventually.

Life possessed a remarkable capacity to do just that.

But most of the Primes just weren't happy with that answer.

They still made use of the metal of course, worked away it and the Emberstone combined brought forth the first denizens of their new civilisation.

But they grumbled about it the whole time.

If we find evidence of something Quintus, you will suffer the consequences!

Hardly.

Liege stood to her defence. As did Megatronus.

Even Onyx took pity and advised against anything overtly harsh.

The rest knew they could not start something with her without causing a conflict.

A conflict they would not then risk having, for the results would surely be catastrophic.

And as far as they knew, this was then of it anyway.

They had their people, now it was time to govern.

Even then though, she would not risk being caught prepared, lest they change their minds.

She recruited her knights and in secret she also had her staff forged.

Knights to defend her, one for each prime, and the staff to stop everything she had built, everything that she had worked for and that she now deserved being ripped away.

Until it all was anyway.

Something she could scream and scream and scream about until that screaming caused her vocorder to shred.

If she just let herself, as would be so bitterly tempting were she weak.

It wasn't her fault, what she had banished for. It wasn't fair!

They may perhaps have been her subjects but she had not ordered the Quintessons to invade. She had not known they even planned to, or the devices they'd developed to turn her people into the drones she had once promised them.

They had been far, far cleverer than she had given them credit for.

She made them pay nonetheless. Used her staff and ripped away the world that she had once given them, using it to instead fuel and damage the wreckage that the Quintesson onslaught has wrought upon hers.

Quintessa for Cybertron.

And that, that act, had been the final straw.

It had been genocide, yes, there had been huge and indiscriminate casualties, yes, but the species were not all dead.

It had been but a warning.

A warning for the greater good.

A warning on exactly what would happen to those who tried to invade.

A warning against those who challenged a Prime's might.

A warning that she would issue as many times as it took until all enemies either learned or died.

For that, her own knights turned against her, taking her staff from her and running.

For that, before she'd been able to take any action against that treacherous waste of metal, her own family turned traitor on her for her alleged deceptions.

Her!

Banished her!

She refused to go down without a fight, but it was a fight that, in the end, she lost.

Was forced to leave the people and the home she loved so dearly for the crime of protecting it.

And later, when it was far, far too late she would find out the worse news she possibly could have.

Of how, in her absence...it fell.

First went down the Dynasty of Primes.

Betrayed much like she had been.

Those who had remained on Cybertron wiped out. Leaving only smatterings of offspring behind to carry forth their legacy.

A legacy which most of those smatterings did not even know what truly entailed.

And then...then it was the war.

The war which started and ended just about every other aspect of Cybertron that had survived the Dynasty's collapse.

From the civilisation to the very planet itself.

With it's last remnants still being thrown away over an over.

Thrown away, she would later find out, for Unicron.

She had finally found the location of the beast only to learn that Optimus Prime, progeny of Prima himself, was siding with saving him over Cybertron.

And so, for the first time in so many millennia after her banishment, she came home.

She came home, no longer baring the title Quintus Prime, but that of the planet which took it's name from it, before she left that place all but destroyed.

Baring it as a mark of both pride and a sign of what she was willing to do again.

She came home and she waited and she acted.

It seemed that while the Autobots were determined with their disgustingly single-minded pursuit to sacrifice all for evil incarnate, the Decepticons were much more agreeable to her goals.

They would help her stop him from ever getting the chance to wake up.

Then came the fabled Prime, and once he was under her control, back in line, it was just a matter of being able to retrieve her staff.

Then she could fix everything.

But the Autobots still refused to understand.

Refused in their stubbornness to sacrifice one planet, one, for the sake of not only their home, but so many others!

Should Unicron get the chance to fully wake up, should this "Earth" not be destroyed, then entire star systems would die before they even have the chance to realise what was happening.

Chances are, that they would not be able to stop him again.

He would kill everything!

And while she herself was not a stranger to genocide, when she did it, it was for a purpose.

Unicron did it simply to sate his own hunger.

How could the Autobots, knowing all that, still think it was her that needed to be stopped? Try slay her and not the beast?

Had she not teleported, she would have been dead and the rise of the great devourer rendered inevitable.

She was on his surface now, masked with the appearance of a human woman.

Alive and once again waiting.

If there was one thing her banishment had improved about her it was her patience.

He might know she was there now, might vaguely recognise her in his state of mostly-slumber, but for now he was still powerless to do anything about that.

She had time.

She would still have her way.

She knew how to kill him, after all.

The Autobots would not stop her.

And when they inevitably tried to, she would reek a great and terrible revenge upon them for what they have done.

For she would not allow Unicron or anyone who took his side to outlast the civilisation she'd fought to have even created.

For she would not allow Unicron or anyone who took his side to outlast Cybertron.

For she would not allow Unicron or anyone who took his side to outlast her.

#Quintessa #Quintus Prime #so much reading was done for this #Transformers #Unicron #tf5 #tf5: tlk #bayverse #13 primes #quintessons #genocide tw #unreliable narrator #alert #she's biased #post by me

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amwritingmeta · 7 years

Text

Regarding Jack: comments on the finale, with S13 Spec

I love the curveballs this show throws at me. I love these particular types of balls because they are so goddamn hard to catch that when I do, oh, the satisfaction is so sweet. Let me begin by stating (as it needs to be stated) I was wrong when I said Cas was powered up as in full-feathered and back to his Castiel-shaped angelic form - this did not happen when the nephilim worked through him to kill Dagon. I read that wrong.

And watching 12x23 on Friday, what threw me for the absolute biggest loop was Cas’ description of “the future” that Jack showed him; Kelly’s death; and that final image of Jack in the nursery in the dark.

All of these things are on the side of the rather overtly ominous and it shook me to the core, because even though I believed they weren’t going to have baby Jack come out with rainbows shooting out of his fingertips, I did expect him to be neutral: not glow-y eyed spitting image of daddy Devil having just killed the Good Mother figure and seemingly happy with leaving that rainbow-tree-sunrise mural in perpetual shadow. *internal screaming*

Now, breathe, refocus, reassess.

Nothing is ever exactly what it seems at first glance on this glorious piece of television (okay, some things are, except usually not, not even the fucking car the brothers drive is simply “a car”. moving on) and this morning, mulling over my reading of 12x19 and the cliffhanger of 12x23 it suddenly struck me, like a curved ball flapping itself all over my face until I had to slap it away to be able to actually process what it was flapping at me about. It was flapping about this simple statement by Cas:

Call it a miracle.

And holy bedazzled Chuck in the sky with diamonds - that’s it, isn’t it? That’s how Cas will come back!!

Jack is - or, at least he can be - the bringer of miracles.

And whether Cas comes back because he has residual nephilim grace coursing through him after the power up - which to me just makes an enormous amount of sense (and big shout out to everyone who has pointed out that Cas’ healing of Dean revealed that something was different about Cas’ grace, because I didn’t notice that on Friday) or because Jack actually physically decides to resurrect him, it doesn’t matter in the slightest to me: the point is that the resurrection will be tied to Jack and I am certain of this now.

So, why does this make so much sense to me?

Because the baby nephilim was good, it was the angelic side to Jack, reaching out for an angelic Protector because it didn’t want to cause suffering and rejected Dagon’s evil side, it wanted to protect Kelly at all costs, sending an image of the world THE ANGEL SIDE OF THE NEPHILIM WOULD THINK IS PARADISE BECAUSE IT DOESN’T HAVE FULL UNDERSTANDING OF FREE WILL YET in order to restore Cas’ faith and get him into Mission Mode. The nephilim did not control Cas by doing this, it never wanted to control him because above everything else, the baby’s goodness is pulled towards Cas’ humanity: his free will, that has always pushed Cas to break the mould and do what is right. This vision was a defence mechanism, however, stemming from a baby angel, meant to inspire and provide Cas with the certainty of being right in his OWN CHOICE TO PROTECT IT, and, to be honest, I believe this future is what the nephilim, in it’s innocence, would have wanted to strive for, it was not a lie or rooted in deception: because the nephilim did not understand that Utopia cannot exist without the exclusion of Free Will and it did not possess the capacity to UNDERSTAND WHAT FREE WILL IS.

It didn’t. And Newborn Jack still doesn’t. Not yet.

Furthermore, there are so many reasons why this vision would appeal to Cas - especially where he has been at emotionally for so many seasons - and I know @mittensmorgul spoke about this in one of her recent posts that is saved for reblogging and there was so much that I agreed with there, but for here I’m leaving Cas’ internal motivations alone because it feels like a tangent. Safe to say it’s more than possible that to him Free Will is beginning to have a bad, bad connotation and a World Without Suffering is what has always, always appealed to him the absolute most, no matter what the cost. Remember him touching that crying baby and making it feel better: all Cas wants to do is to help. Cas on Mission Mode is not thinking straight: and that is why he died. To shed that persona. (I am screaming right now. I am sincerely screaming with glee at the very thought.)

Oh, my brain is on overdrive and oh, my God, I hope I could be right in this because then everything I’ve thought since 12x19 fits. It fucking fits! Ok, sorry, digressing, let’s continue.

Why does The Newborn Jack not represent the angelic side of the nephilim? Because what fun would that be for a cliffhanger? What fun would that be as a problem in urgent need of solving at the beginning of S13? Newborn Jack is the DEVIL side, the corrupted angel side, the side that is volatile and dangerous and in NEED OF GUIDANCE.

What makes me think this? Oh, this is the best part! I’m so sorry for being so over-zealous but I’m fucking ecstatic!

Newborn Jack’s Devil side is overshadowing not only his innocent baby angel side (underlined by the visual of Jack’s glowing eyes in shadow, tying him to all the times we’ve had that visual of Lucifer this season), but more importantly this side of Jack - just as his innocent angelic side - is not yet in touch with his humanity and this fact is LITERALLY SHOWN IN A FUCKING VISUAL AS HE SITS IN DARKNESS BY THAT MURAL.

Kelly’s LOVE was poured into that mural, her HOPE for the future, her FAITH in her son. Remember, what she chose to paint on that wall is not connected in any way to the baby nephilim’s vision of “the future”, the vision that it showed Cas, because KELLY DID NOT SEE THE VISION OF PARADISE, ONLY CAS DID. That mural was painted by the Good Mother, filled with true devotion for her child, and trust in what she was doing was right: because it was right, guys. The mural represents what could be up ahead, once the nephilim has been raised right. Not “paradise”, but a world in balance. And for Jack to be raised right, what needs to be reached by Dean Sam Cas TEAM FREE FUCKING WILL by that person who is strong enough to lead Jack down the righteous path is what that mural represents: Jack’s humanity.

He needs to be taught the value of choice because even though his father is an arch angel, he was BORN WITH THE BUILT IN CAPACITY FOR FREE WILL by having a human mother. A mother who is good and who died telling him that she loved him.

MIND FUCKING EXPLODED.

Okay, calming down. Again. This might all be wrong, my lovelies. But if it’s right…

I feel it’s still possible that the lingering goodness of the baby nephilim - the angel side wanting to perform miracles - brings back both Kelly - it’s mother - and Cas - it’s chosen and trusted Protector through both of them possessing its lingering grace, and that Kelly will prove a positive force in dealing with Jack, but that her function will still be to die at the hands of Lucifer, because it would be so profoundly symbolic for Jack to have a reason to hate his father, as it ties in so damn nicely with theme for the entire goddamn series.

The troubled family, guys, ’tis the name of the game, is it not?

The family you’re born into vs. the family you choose.

The perpetuated obligation of being bonded by blood vs. the bonds you choose to honour because they are unconditional and made of your own free will.

For Jack to finally properly reject his evil side it is possible that a truly evil act will need to take place, so that he can feel the loss, gain perspective and realise who his real family is, his real friends, who the people are that truly have his back, no matter what he does or the mistakes he makes. I would really, very much love this to be part of the comment on our overarching theme for next season and, possibly, S14 (though I do get the feeling, after watching the J2 panel from yesterday, they might make that a shorter season and that they are ending the series with episode 300, which feels so right somehow.)

But hell, as with everything, all of these comments of mine is me spitballing and boy, I could be completely completely missing the mark here. It needs to be said. (I think I’ve got a pretty good aim though) (stop that) (sorry)

Getting back to Lucifer, I just always felt like Luci would kill Kelly and there was no way around it. I’d like that, anyway. It makes sense to me because it ties Luci so firmly to the Bad Dad category of parents and Bad Parents get snuffed. *shrug*

For this to happen Luci obviously can’t be trapped in another dimension, but I think Lucifer and Mary will be back in the narrative fairly quickly (at least by 13x04 at the latest) and I think Lucifer will be a real, big, huge threat next season as he vies for control over his son. At least this is my very deep hope. This combined with the continuous threat of the BMoL Elders, of course.

Lucifer deserves to be frightening again, and his demise at the hands of Team Free Will aided by Jack would be a fucking beautiful bookend to the series itself - where Lucifer has hovered somewhere in the background, like the catalyst of horror that he has always represented - and this demise needs a proper build up. I don’t count S12 as proper build up, it really did nothing to further Lucifer as a threat for me and he mostly annoyed the casual viewer into just wanting him to go away already, which I find understandable. I would love to see him interact with Jack and manipulate him into doing bad things etc. I feel Jack is volatile, but that he is literally Jesse now - our previous taste of the antichrist. Jack might do bad things, but from an innocent perspective, because he doesn’t know any better.

He. Needs. Guidance.

For me all of this makes sense because I feel the narrative is pulling so strongly towards positive endgame that, for them to turn around and make Jack kill the world, well, it wouldn’t make any sense. Then again, perhaps he’s not here to bring balance either. I just really, really like that idea and I would love that ending for our TFW: they can all still hunt and engage in this life they love, but they don’t have to save the world and risk their necks on such a huge scale every year. Their suffering will lessen markedly. I want that so very much. That and happiness for them!! Please, Dabb!! :)

TEAM FREE WILL IN S13!

#spn finale #spn s12 12x22-23 #nephilim is good #there is hope for the future #cas #kelly kline #spn S13 spec #spn meta #lucifer #postive endgame #I trust in Andrew Dabb

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