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polarishymn-blog · 4 years ago

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I'm bored so here is another theory. Be warned HERE BE SPOILERS!

Tacking on to the Elgar'nan theory here:

I discussed how I think the Evanuris were originally spirits. Well folks I have a personal head canon for my Inquisitor. Let me make this clear MY LAVELLAN INQUISITOR. NOT SAYING ANYONE HAS TO AGREE. I JUST USE THIS WHEN I PLAY THROUGH.

Ok? Ok.

Get your tinfoil hats on. This one is a doozy.

Lavellan is the spirit of sacrifice.

I hear people now like "that's ridiculous." Give me a chance to explain before you scroll on.

The Inquisitor is in the fade after being part of an explosion that kills EVERYONE ELSE. Even Corypheus takes a big ol L on this one.

Everyone is dead. What happens to Divine Justinia? A spirit that identifies with her so much it takes on her persona and memories. As does Compassion who becomes Cole. So we have a precedence for this.

Cole shows us that a spirit can take physical form. Justinia shows us that a spirit can fully believe they are that person. And the ancient elves just...these guys...looking at you Solas.

Var lath vir suledin!

I digress. So a spirit can not only retain the thoughts and memories of a person but take physical form.

"Then how come she doesn't know she is a spirit?" You ask?

Simple the spirit doesn't want to remember. It was a traumatic event. The person they identified with, quite possibly has been watching for some time, died a horrible death trying to save Justinia from that red lyrium blight infused ballsack. They basically ran into a situation any of us would have noped out of. All to try and save (for Lavellan) a woman that made no nevermind to them.

Instead our intrepid little elf is like "nah I should definitely fuck with that big scary guy and grab this clearly magical item."

In the immortal words of Sandal "BOOM!"

Everything goes to shit. Our lady elf wakes in the Fade with no memory how she got there. She recovers her memory later but not all of it. After the explosion there isn't shit until she wakes up.

Sus.

So she wakes up and spends the rest of her time throwing herself into one hellscape after another. Putting herself in constant danger and giving up whatever life they had before to save the world. Spoiler: and her fucking arm. Thank Solas. You lying manipulative beautiful bastard you.

Var lath vir suledin!

Speaking of that wolfish sex pistol...he has some...odd dialouge.

Solas: spirit wish to join then living. Demons are that wish gone wrong.

Interesting. He doesn't say they can't. Cole is proof they can. So lets look at some Cole and Solas exchanges:

Solas: The rifts draw spirits through, and the shock makes demons of them.

Cole: Pushing through makes you be yourself. You can hold onto the you.

Cole: Being pulled through means you don't have enough you. You become what batters you, bruises your being.

Solas: Yes, exactly. Deliberately crossing the Veil requires that a spirit form will, personality.

Solas: That concept of self gives a spirit the chance to maintain its nature.

So according to Cole a spirit that comes through willingly doesn't necessarily become a demon. Solas follows up with a spirit needs the will to do so and to form a personality. If the spirit has a blueprint...say...a person they identify with...they could assume that person's personality and indomitable will and focus.

His voice....sigh.

Let's move on to:

Solas: You may well become fully human, after all. I never thought to see it.

Cole: When did you see it before?

Solas: I did not say that I had.

Cole: No, you didn't. It's harder to hear, sometimes. Sorry.

Solas: Good luck, Cole. You have taken a difficult road.

Ya'll Cole can see/sense that Solas has seen this before. And he also knows who and what Solas is. Our murder bebe all but outs him several times. After Tresspasser you see the breadcrumbs clearly. This exchange could on the surface just be about them but as Solas is also a spirit taken form I find it interesting he doesn't say "You where once like me Solas." If he doesn't out him here he may not out the Inquisitor.

Next! Ah...the balcony scene. WHY MUST YOU BE SO DAMN CHARMING!

Solas: Has it affected you? Changed you in any way? Your mind, your morals, your... spirit?"

Lavellan: If it had do you really think I'd have notice?

Solas: No. That's an excellent point.

Lavellan: Why do you ask?

Solas: You show a wisdom I have not seen since... since my deepest journies into the ancient memories of the Fade.

Solas: If the Dailsh could raise someone with a spirit like yours. Have I misjudged them?

Ok...why is he emphasizing her spirit. Not soul. Not you. SPIRIT! He asks if the mark has affected her. But it could be his way of prying information without "hey bitch are you aware you are a spirit. I know crazy, right?" Js he does this "I like your spirit" talk more than once.

I enter into evidence a snippet from the heart shattering breakup conversation:

Solas: You have a rare and marvelous spirit.

I'm not crying. You're crying. DRINK MY TEARS PATRICK WEEKES YOU BEAUTIFUL BEING!

A rare and marvelous spirit huh...Cole what was it he said to you?

Cole: I didn't know there were spirits of wisdom.

Solas: There are few. Spirits form as a reflection of this world and its passions.

Solas: We will never lack for spirits of rage, or hunger, or desire. The world gives them plenty to mirror.

Solas: The gentler spirits are far more rare. We can ill afford the loss of even one spirit of wisdom, or faith...

Solas: Or compassion.

Or sacrifice! If compassion and wisdom are rare. How rare would sacrifice be?

Solas says the Inquisitor changed everything for him. He is someone who is ready to do whatever it takes to restore his people. Surly he would value sacrifice. If he came across a rare and marvelous spirit of sacrifice would he not at least be intrigued? Or inspired?

Let's face it he is an artist. His lady would definitely be his muse. Especially after she accidentally gives him permission to destroy the world.

...Dammit Lavellan.

Finally, why didn't our precious lying egg not mention this? When the Inquisitor is having the very terse elven conversation and the city elves are brought up this is the dialogue:

Solas: Why? What would it benefit some poor man in a Ferelden alieanage to learn his ancestors strode the land like gods? It would only make him bitter. Or inspire him to take a foolish risk and get himself killed.

Lavellan: You have decided his reaction for him.

Solas: Perhaps I have.

Clearly wolf boy has no problem keeping information from someone he thinks will only serve to harm them. If the Inquisitor knew they were a spirit perhaps Solas would think their reaction would be troublesome. Or even dangerous.

There is more but this is already ridiculously long. All this is to say my Lavellan was a real elf. She was killed during the explosion and a spirit of sacrifice identified with her so much she became her. The elf Solas falls in love with is (in my rp) like him. A rare spirit that became flesh and blood. She chose to be real like Cole can. Her lack of memory of the moment it happened is both self serving and part of the effects of becoming real. I know it is most likely all bs but it makes for an interesting thought.

Solas is the force that will end Thedas. Lavellan may be the sacrifice needed to stop it.

I hope you enjoyed this rant nobody asked for.

Oh and:

SOLAS! VAR LATH VIR SULEDIN!

#dragon age inquistor #dragon age inquisition #lavellen tears #lavellan #solas #cole #solavellen hell #solavellan #spirits #dragon age #patrick weekes

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ladybuvelle · 4 years ago

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Any thoughts on Seraphine you'd like to share or is it pretty much similar to the general consensus people have of her right now?

// *SIGH*...

I’ve said it in many places, but I’ll say it again for the record; I don’t “hate” Seraphine, and I probably will play her because she seems so similar to Sona and that’s honestly my playstyle.

But that’s also the problem. She’s... Sona. But different. And overhyped to shit. So yes, in that way my opinion is shared by a lot of other people. They could have done a million other things. They could have made an actual siren character. They could have given her an actual, compelling backstory like her singing lures people to their deaths so she’s trying to overcome that and make people happy instead. THAT feels “fantasy”. That feels like something that could, and should, exist in Runeterra.

But no. Nah. Another conventionally attractive, quirky, older (legal) Zoe who is bubbly and basically steals all of Sona’s bags. I don’t understand her marketing. I don’t understand who she’s meant to attract. Is this some weird attempt to bring in more female players? Do you even realize how bad of an idea this is? Girls and women coming into the game thinking they can play this neat popstar character only to be met with a toxic community that’s often very abusive toward women, and who will be even MORE abusive because A) support/enchanter, B) the negative response to Seraphine in general, and C) proxy of being a female playing a video game. Or is this actually meant to appeal to male players? Who is this FOR exactly? I don’t get why so much marketing was put into this one character. What was the ulterior motive? They couldn’t possibly think she’s that special?

I still suspect some kind of nepotism over at Tencent, where some guy’s daughter wanted to be in the game. But that’s my tinfoil hat theory.

Like all things though Riot will do what Riot will do. Give it a few months and nobody will care anymore. It’ll be on to whatever new champ is next, because the machine just can’t stop turning.

#league stuff #ooc #Anonymous

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thetaoofbetty · 5 years ago

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wait, who just said the title of the next ep was lynchian or something like that and made the david lynch reference?

i mean, nah

right?

maybe?

where’s my tinfoil hats at? 👀

#rd negativity #okay i'll stop now

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aintgonnaleaveyoumikey · 5 years ago

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Pairings: Trikey Rating: M Summary: They fell into a pattern, an infinite loop. To break it, Michael has to stay or Trevor has to let him go. Post main story pining and a suggestion for why Trev is so bitchy when he’s found throwing grenades in his driveway. [AO3]

.*Breaking Chains*.

Trevor pulled the pin and for a brief moment, it was like holding sundown in the palm of his hand: fleeting. And then he let it go.

The subsequent bang brought with it a flash of gold, a rumbling in his eardrums and bones...and the routine appearance of a black sedan pulling up garage-side in the dusty street. He watched it come to a stop—watched while the scent of cash blew into a slum and a lamb fell into a shark tank.

He wasn’t sure which he’d rather be.

Fuck.

There wasn’t enough liquor in the entire world now, not that there ever had been or would be when it came to Michael fucking Townley. It was the same feeling, whether he wore the clothes of a lover or a traitor, whether he had the swagger of youth in his step or a decade of mistakes written between the wrinkles now creasing his features. Mikey: always two steps out of reach with meaningless promises, a mirage of water in a parched wasteland of loneliness.

And yet, there he was. Again. And again and again and again and...

Despite the futility of it all, cracked lips met the whiskey bottle while Trevor’s eyes rolled back with his head. Bottoms up, he drank deep to will away the ghost now leisurely approaching, as if another unannounced visit to Sandy Shores was no more than a Sunday stroll around the block.

“T. Hey.”

His lashes parted again to a pair of black birds soaring over the colors of dusk and without facing the apparition, Trevor blindly set the whiskey down behind him. “I’d get out of the way if I were you.” He pulled another pin free and breathed a singsong, “Thank fuck I’m not you, though.”

Toss. Bang. Gold. Rumble.

Sundown after sundown.

“Guess this is what fun in the desert looks like. Heh, wish I’d known about it when we were playing house here.” It was a joke, both the sarcastic-laden suggestion and how it could still pierce Trevor’s heart despite knowing its jest.

“Mmhm, yep.” Still refusing to offer even the hint of a glance over his shoulder, he reached back for the booze. “Your life in Plastic Town isn’t playing house though, right? Sugar Tits, how do you live in such denial?”

With the kick of a polished shoe to the driveway, Michael squinted and sucked his teeth. His shoulders were loose, hands stuffed in his trouser pockets and he jingled his keys before giving off an airy sigh. “Some things never change, huh...”

The laugh that erupted from the depths of Trevor’s throat went short-lived and preceded another swig of liquor stinging its way down. “Now if those ain’t the truest words ever spoken.” At last, he turned and thrust the bottle toward his visitor. “You’ll always be an entitled prick, for instance.”

“Oh for Christ’s sake, T, can we just—”

“Disappearing for ten years and then just showing up whenever it suits the frequent swingin’ of your moods. Must be nice, Mikey.”

“Look, man.” Shrugging, Michael pulled his hands free and slid the tinted shades from the bridge of his nose. They folded with a pointed snap. “If you wanna keep throwing grenades and pissing off your neighbors, that’s fine by me. I can go get lost for another ten if it’s what you want.”

Ouch.

Trevor peered at Michael for long enough to err on awkward silence, before his arm finally fell with the whiskey sloshing as consequence. “You are an asshole.” He relented, however, the anger that shaded his tone dissipating in the bat of an eyelash. “So what favor do you need from ol’ T this time, mm?”

Michael’s brow twitched but he wasn’t quick enough to inquire.

“What? What else would bring you to my ever humble abode again, if not to inconvenience me in some beyond annoying way?” Trevor’s fingertips caressed over grooves and smooth edges, turning the next grenade around in his hand. If his dear compadre over there wanted to do this ridiculous dance every week, they’d dance. Every week. Until it got boring, of course.

Would it ever get boring, though? The name inked on Trevor’s bicep suggested he already knew the answer, but his imagination could deflect and chase a proverbial butterfly all it liked.

“Nah, it’s not...it’s not like that, T. Come on. I was in the neighborhood and felt like dropping in.”

“In the neighborhood.”

Rocking to and fro on his soles, Michael remained aloof and let his gaze wander. “So, uh, drinkin' with me is an inconvenience?”

Trevor scoffed and cocked his head. “When you speak in bullshit innuendos, yeah, a bit.” The final pin hit the ground with a soft clang and the shell went rolling toward the street. Boom. “Buuuut I never did like doing shit the easy way, so let’s get a move on, porkchop.” He approached with a slap to Michael’s arm, his fingertips pressing inward then and trailing down to the small of his back. “Let’s get a drink.” The words spilled from Trevor’s lips in a dangerous half purr. “Make up for a whole seven days of lost time.”

Michael’s face turned in slow motion until the tips of their noses nearly touched, his eyes half-lidded and the curl of his dark lashes prominent. He spoke just as softly then, a whisper riding out on his breath over the scent of mint and cigarettes. “Whatever it takes, Trevor.”

And that was that.

The pair approached the trailer door without so much an acknowledgement of Ron sitting on the porch, tinkering with some dilapidated tinfoil hat device as per usual. He’d have enough sense to leave soon anyway. ...Maybe. Then again, maybe not. Whatever the case, Trevor had one fuck to give at present and if Ron wanted to linger about while the whole universe rattled and his voice sang to the gods, so be it.

Wouldn’t be the first time.

His gaze met Michael’s while Phil Collins’ “I Don’t Care Anymore” played on the kitchen radio.

...Nor would it apparently be the last.

“I love my life,” declared a vapid voice, while cigarette smoke drifted in lazy tendrils through a conspicuous melancholy looming over the bed.

Outside, the sun had long relinquished its reign to a sea of diamonds, the moon a giant glowing pearl cradled in the lap of glittering celestial fabric. It was strange to think that Sandy Shores and Los Santos existed under this same sky, and even stranger that for ten years, Trevor and Michael had too—as separate and distinct as their places of residence. It was strange that neither yet moved now to trade the view of a rusty metal ceiling for the stars outside, strange that each found some vestige of comfort lying beside the other in less than favorable conditions.

Such was life, though: the very one Michael spoke of.

“I love it,” he repeated in a whisper, his eyes unblinking for too long.

Though an empty can was present on the nightstand next to him, Trevor flicked accumulated ash over the side of the bed. His right arm was raised and resting against a wafer-thin pillow, the crook supporting his head. The cigarette met his lips and he drew on it once more, while music no one was listening to continued wafting from the opposite end of the space; it was just Pat Benatar, anyway...

Only when the glowing orange line threatened to burn into the filter was when he put the smoke out, stretched, and finally turned his face. “So. What’s next, cowboy? Mm?”

Michael kept his attention trained on the ceiling, several moments of mock consideration passing before he answered, “The Yellow Jack?”

“...The Yellow Jack,” Trevor repeated in disdain.

Squinting, Michael licked his lips. “All right. The bar next door.”

When that suggestion was met with a huff out the nostrils, he sat up in annoyance. “The meth lab then. A fucking...road trip to the mountains, tennis at the god damn beach. Let’s steal a fucking plane and fly it until it burns up in the fucking atmosphere, I don’t know, T. What the fuck do you want me to say?”

“It’s the same shit every week, Mikey. Think about that.” Trevor pushed himself to stand at the bedside, and bare-ass naked, peered down at his companion humorously opting to remain covered by a thin sheet. “You’re not stupid. You just love denial.” From there, he itched at his groin and strutted to the bathroom for a piss while calling out, “Always have, always will.”

“Fucking whatever, man.”

It wasn’t long before Trevor reappeared in the doorway. “So, the Yellow Jack. And after that, the lab, the mountains, the beach. Then we fly into the sun. And then?”

“And then what?”

“How long would you say is too long, Michael? To wait for someone.” Trevor wandered to the closet and swatted at a pair of moths. “Ten years?”

Silence.

“Or is it twenty?”

Silence.

“Mm, I see.” He slid into the greatest treasure ever found at Binco—his prized pink leopard print briefs—and continued dressing. “Looks like the Yellow Jack Inn it is, porkchop.”

“Trevor.”

“Hurry the fuck up or you’ll be walking. I’m ready to stomp out some redneck ass, relieve myself of some fucking pent up aggression.”

The front door swung open and closed, Trevor’s voice muffled and permeating from the porch.

“Ronald, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Everything, Trevor!”

“It’s one week,” Michael answered at last, to no one. “One week is a long fucking time.”

He dragged out the process of cleaning himself up and donning his clothes, simultaneously hoping and dreading that he’d taken too long. To no surprise, though, Trevor still sat waiting in the truck when he finally made it outside.

Climbing to the roof of an abandoned motel while intoxicated was both a stupid idea and cheap thrill. Driving hours to the desert to run from a reality he’d given everything up for was a fitting parallel, so naturally, Michael went along with it.

He stood at Trevor’s side under a million stars and stared into infinity itself.

“I want to love my life, T.”

“Yeah.”

“So I should stop. Man, I gotta stop, it’s...”

“Yeah.”

“And we should probably...”

“For sure, Michael.”

They were quiet for a long while in a universe only big enough for two, each wondering in a drunken haze if the other knew what the hell he was even talking about. And then they questioned if they even knew, themselves.

At some point, their pinkies entwined first to test the waters, and the other fingers followed, threading together tighter and tighter yet. Was this holding with possession before letting go forever, or the intention of never letting go at all? The answer remained irritatingly elusive.

In any case, when the first rays of sunlight embraced the horizon once more, Michael’s eyes opened to find himself back in a bed which both did and didn’t belong to him. He elongated himself in a stretch, pointed his toes downward, and then looked to Trevor—watched while he took steady breaths in his sleep, focused on his barely parted mouth, and felt the magnetism drawing him in.

He used to feel this pull on his heart, twenty years ago.

Michael leaned over slowly. Their noses touched, the space separating his lips from Trevor’s closed to mere millimeters and just before it became none, a familiar ghost posed a familiar inquiry.

What’s next, cowboy?

He stopped short of consummating the kiss.

Get a drink. The Yellow Jack. The bar next door... Michael’s gaze drifted to the side. Actually feel alive for a few hours and then return to the life he should love, must love—the life he gave up everything, gave up Trevor for.

...How long was too long to wait for someone?

And how long was too long to burn in the inferno of a self-made purgatory?

He withdrew; got up, got dressed, walked by Ron passed out on the porch couch with a beer in hand, and slid into the car. It was only 6AM and the heat was already suffocating, but that wasn’t a new feeling for Michael. He turned up the AC, pulled onto the dirt road, and drove.

It wasn’t until he reached the entrance ramp of the highway when he noticed how silent the world was outside of his mind, so he reached for the radio just in time to once again hear Phil Collins singing about how he didn’t care anymore. Must be nice.

He was becoming a true creature of habit. That was what Michael decided when he found himself strolling up a dusk-colored desert driveway exactly seven days after the last time he found himself doing the same thing...after a previous seven and another seven before then, and more yet. But he wasn’t the only one. In the same place, entertaining himself with the same activities, was the same person as always.

And that was when it occurred to him, the infinite loop: redundant and reiterating, comfortably uncomfortable, never a change or deviation. And in it, with no foreseeable end and no clear beginning, they were both stuck.

Michael slid the shades from his face and closed them with a snap. “...T. Hey.”

“I’d get out of the way...”

His freshly polished shoes remained in place and he said nothing more, simply opted to watch Trevor’s avoidance of him while he kept tossing grenades and drinking straight from the bottle. Someday, Michael thought, he might be strong enough to stay. Or perhaps Trevor might be strong enough to finally let him go. The latter was the path of least resistance, and what he strangely both dreaded and hoped for.

But when his eyes fell to his name inked on a bicep, he studied it for some time. And then finally... “T.”

“Time for the weekly drink, the weekly argument. The Yellow Jack, the bar next door...” Shrugging, Trevor set the whiskey down. “Let’s get a move on, porkchop. Make up for that lost time, mm?”

Michael huffed with a shake of his head. “A week? Or ten years of it?”

Raising his chin quickly, Trevor looked to him but Michael pivoted and let his footsteps carry him back to his car.

“I dunno, T. But I’m going back to the roof of the motel to try to figure it out.” The alarm disengaged with a chirp and as the door opened, he cocked his head. “You comin’?”

Trevor hesitated, scrutiny worn with conspicuous measure across his features. At last, his shoulders rose and his apathy was almost believable when he capitulated. “Ah, sure, why the hell not?” He tossed the bottle over the fence and strutted to the passenger door. “Would break up this fuckin’ monotony anyway.”

Michael breathed a laugh. “Yeah.” When he slipped into the seat, he changed the radio station to something new—some kind of electronic noise kids these days listened to. “I was thinking the same thing.”

As they drove down the street, Trevor put his feet on the dashboard and pressed his thumbs together. “So. This is really the end of us getting drinks, Mikey?”

“Shit, T. The end, the beginning.” Michael’s right hand slipped off the steering wheel and fell open-palmed between them. “Who fuckin’ knows anymore.”

It was a moment before Trevor’s fingers entwined with his own. “Good enough for me, Michael.” A beat. “For now.”

“For now,” Michael echoed. He drove past the motel and chased the sun until the last of its rays bled into the darkness—without ever letting go of Trevor’s hand, without Trevor ever letting go of his.

Hey. Maybe it was a start after all.

// Thank you for reading! This is my first story for this pairing and fandom. I’m sorry for any mistakes.

#trikey #gta v #gta 5 #long post #writing on plaid paper

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discoursecatharsis · 6 years ago

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I wonder if the “leaks” were made by the staff to troll the viewers. Alex Hirsch did that

Nah I doubt it. The VLD staff knows how vile this fandom can get. They can’t even make Lance be comedy relief without his rabid stans going up to the mic at a con panel’s q&a to chide them.They wouldn’t purposely try to troll or instigate anything with this fandom.

Tinfoil hat theory, what if it’s some disgruntled ex-employee who was fired and is doing this in revenge?

Edit: Also I know I said I wouldn’t post any more asks about leaks but I just wanted to share my tinfoil lol

#leakgate #ask #Anonymous

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snappedsky · 6 years ago

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Fanatics 67

Skoodge is hiding something so Zim and Squee work together to find out what. Previous! Next!

Skoodge’s Secret

Zim arrives home from Skool. He walks through the front door and announces, “I’m home.”

“Masta!” Gir exclaims and shoots at him. Zim ducks and he flies over his head and crashes into the wall. Minimoose, hovering over the couch, simply squeaks.

Zim looks around as he goes into the kitchen. Somebody appears to be missing.

“Where’s Skoodge?” he asks.

Gir jumps up and shouts, “I made taquitos!” Minimoose just squeaks.

Zim rolls his eyes and looks at the ceiling. “‘puter!”

“What,” the computer answers with annoyance.

“Where is Skoodge?” he asks.

“How should I know?” it replies.

Zim growls with aggravation. Why are all of his minions so useless?

Skoodge comes home about two hours later. Zim is sitting on the couch watching TV when he walks through the door. He immediately jumps to his feet.

“Where have you been?” he snaps.

“I um was…grocery shopping…” Skoodge replies.

“But we don’t eat ‘groceries’,” Zim argues, “don’t play with me, Skoodge. You’ve been gone every day for the last week. Where are you going? I demand to know!”

“N-nowhere,” he says, clearly nervous. “It’s not important.”

He races away and disappears up the stairs. Zim stares after him, glowering.

The next morning at Skool, Dib, Gaz, Pepito, and Squee meet up at the boys’ lockers. Zim is already waiting for them.

“Alright, Zim, what’s this ‘big’ emergency?” Pepito asks.

“I’m glad you asked, Pepito,” Zim replies, “for the last week, Skoodge has been disappearing from the base and not returning until late. We are going to find out where he’s going.”

“Why?” Gaz asks.

“Because he won’t tell me why!” he complains, “and I demand to know! What if he’s conspiring against me?”

The others look at him incredulously.

“Wow, normally it’s Dib who’s screaming about crazy conspiracy theories in the morning,” Pepito says, “it’s nice to shake things up for once.”

“It’s not crazy,” Zim insists, “even if he’s not conspiring against me, he still refuses to tell me what he’s doing. He lives with me, he works for me, he’s not allowed to hide things from me.”

“You know, Zim, that sort of territorial obsessiveness is really toxic,” Gaz comments.

“She’s right,” Pepito nods.

Zim growls and looks at Dib. “Dib?”

“Sorry, Zim, but I agree with Pepito and Gaz,” he replies, “Skoodge is his own person. He should be allowed to do whatever he wants.”

Zim glowers with irritation.

“I’ll help you, Zim,” Squee shrugs.

“Huh?” they exclaim simultaneously.

“Really?” Pepito questions.

“Yeah,” Squee replies, “I mean, he’s got a point. If Skoodge is lying to him then he must feel guilty about whatever he’s doing. He might be in some trouble. At least if we look into it and it’s not bad, then there’s no harm done.”

“Oh, Squee, I always know you were my most loyal subordinate!” Zim chimes.

A rectangular device with an antenna and a gridded screen pops out of his PAK. The screen shows a series of small rectangles that might represent buildings and a little dot inside one of them. “I placed a tracking device in Skoodge’s wig this morning,” Zim explains, “this way we can track his movements.”

“Where is he now?” Squee asks.

“He still hasn’t left the house,” he replies, “but I’ll keep an eye on it and as soon as he does, I’ll let you know.”

“Okay,” Gaz rolls her eyes. “You guys have fun with your little mission. I gotta get to class.”

“Yeah, us too,” Dib says, “come on, Zim. You can watch your device during class.”

The morning passes quietly, with Zim and Pepito in their class and Dib and Squee in their class.

At lunch, they all meet up at their usual table along with Gaz and Kat- Tak’s human disguise.

“Squee,” Zim says excitedly as he squeezes in between him and Pepito. “Skoodge is on the move. He left about an hour ago and he hasn’t stopped.”

“Where’s he going?” Squee asks as he looks at the tracking device.

“Not sure but it looks like he’s heading to the South End,” he replies.

“Ooh, as someone who lives in the South End, that is not a good sign.”

“You know, what you guys are doing is really creepy,” Gaz comments.

“Duly noted,” Zim replies.

They all eat lunch while Zim and Squee keep an eye on the device. Skoodge’s dot moves steadily through the city at a walking pace. And then all of a sudden, it disappears.

“What!” Zim exclaims. He shakes the device and bangs the side but the dot doesn’t come back.

“Augh, we lost the signal!” he barks and tosses the device to the side. “That’s what I get for shopping at a military surplus store.”

“That’s human tech?” Kat scoffs, “don’t you have Irken or even Vortian?” “I’m all out,” he groans, “I used my last one on Dib.”

“What?” Dib questions.

“Great,” Squee sighs, “well, keep an eye on it, see if his signal comes back, and after Skool we can go to that area and have a look around.”

“Good idea,” Zim nods, “I’ll keep you posted.”

After classes, everyone gathers at their lockers to put their stuff away. Zim shows Squee the tracking device, which hasn’t changed since lunch.

“His signal still hasn’t come back,” Zim says.

“Okay, well, let’s go to that area and look around,” Squee suggests.

Zim nods and looks at Dib and Pepito. “You two still don’t want to come?”

“I still think it’s nothing,” Pepito shrugs.

“I don’t think it’s worth all this,” Dib adds.

“Suit yourselves,” Zim grunts, “come on, Squee.”

They leave Dib and Pepito at the lockers and head through the Skool.

“So how are we gonna get there?” Zim asks.

“I got a ride,” Squee replies.

Outside, Squee climbs into the passenger seat of Johnny’s car. “Hi, Nny.”

“Hey, Squee, how was Skool?” he asks.

“Not bad,” he replies as Zim gets into the backseat. “Is it okay if Zim comes over?”

“Uh sure,” Nny shrugs, “what about your other friends?” “Just Zim today,” he replies.

“So it’s a Zim and Squee episode,” he comments.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Johnny drives them across the city to his house. The second he’s pulled over, Zim and Squee jump out of the car and start trotting away.

“I’ll be back later, Nny,” Squee calls back.

“Yeah, yeah,” he half-waves as he goes into the house.

Zim and Squee run through the streets, watching the street signs, searching for the area where Skoodge would’ve disappeared. They slow to a stop when they reach the general area.

“He must be around here somewhere,” Zim muses.

“These few blocks are all condemned,” Squee says, pointing at all the surrounding buildings with boarded up windows and cracked, weathered walls. “The only things going on out here are drug deals and teen murders.”

“Well, let’s see what Skoodge has to do with it,” Zim declares.

They explore the nearby streets, looking for Skoodge or anyone for that matter. It’s completely devoid of human life; only bugs and rats can be found.

“Alright, I was wrong,” Squee sighs, “the only thing going on out here is a vermin population boom.”

“Well, Skoodge still has to be around here somewhere,” Zim insists, “his signal still hasn’t returned.”

“Maybe he found the tracker and destroyed it?” he suggests.

“No, he’s not smart enough for that.”

They continue looking around for a few more minutes when Zim hears something.

“Voices,” he hisses.

“What? Where?” Squee questions.

Zim immediately shushes him and points at a nearby building. They crouch down and approach cautiously before peeking through a boarded up window.

Inside is a large group of about twenty pasty, tired looking adults. They’re all wearing weird, metallic looking jackets and some have tinfoil hats. They’re gathered around something and talking excitedly and simultaneously. But Zim and Squee can’t see what they’re looking at.

“They look like a bunch of UFO fanatics,” Squee comments.

“Yeah, I’ve dealt with their kind before,” Zim groans.

They start shuffling around as others try to get to the middle of the crowd. All of the movement allows the kids to get a look at their object of excitement.

“Skoo-!” Zim starts to shout but Squee claps his hand over his mouth and shoves him to the ground.

They lie still for a second to make sure they’re not in danger, then peek back into the window. Nobody seems to have noticed them.

Skoodge is out of his disguise and smiling uncomfortably while the people constantly ask him questions and talk to him. It’s obvious that he doesn’t want to be there, but nobody seems to care about his opinion.

“Ooh, when I get my hands on Skoodge I’m gonna…” Zim trails off, growling angrily as he flexes his fingers.

“Easy, Zim,” Squee says, “we don’t know the whole story. He might be here against his will. We should learn more before we start pointing fingers.”

Zim takes a deep breath. “Fine. Let’s call it a day for now. I’ll come up with a plan and we’ll meet at Skool tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Squee nods. They crawl away from the building before making a break for it. They don’t stop until they’re sure they’re safe.

“Do you wanna ride home?” Squee asks as they walk away.

“Nah, I’ll just walk,” Zim replies, “give me time to think. See you tomorrow.”

He releases his spider legs and leaps into the sky. They carry him across the rooftops until he disappears into the distance.

“‘Walk’,” Squee scoffs and walks home.

The next morning at Skool, Squee walks through the busy hallway to his locker. Zim suddenly grabs him and pulls him to the side.

“Oh, morning, Zim,” Squee says.

“I got a plan,” Zim says, getting right to the point. “We are going to send in a mole.”

Squee nods. “Now, just to clarify, you don’t mean like an actual mole animal, right?” “No, like somebody who can wear a wire and mingle with the UFO fanatics so we can hear what’s going on better,” Zim explains.

“Right, that’s what I thought. So who are we gonna send?”

“I’ll find someone,” Zim states, “and as soon as I do, we’ll head to the building.”

“Sounds good,” Squee nods.

“Until then, just go about your day as normal,” Zim orders.

The morning passes as it normally does. Neither Zim nor Squee tell Dib, Gaz, or Pepito about what they saw last night. But they don’t really ask.

At lunch they meet at their table, all except for Zim who is running late. They spot him walking in, following their classmate Bianca.

“I’m not helping you, you freaking weirdo,” she snaps, impatiently.

“Come on, it won’t be that hard,” Zim insists.

“No, I don’t have time and also I couldn’t care less about you and your stupid problems,” she huffs and walks away.

“Ah, you’re useless anyway,” he growls.

Squee leaves the table and approaches Zim. “You’re wasting your time, Zim. If we’re gonna send in a mole, then we’ll need someone who is veritable wet clay, that we can mold to our whims.”

“Right,” Zim nods, “fortunately, the cafeteria is full of such people.”

They look around at the many students clustered around the room.

“How about Keef?” Squee suggests, gesturing to the red head across the room who appears to be carving a smiley face into his mashed potatoes.

“No, I’ve had…bad experiences with him,” Zim says awkwardly, “how about Poonchy?” He points to their classmate, who is nodding mindlessly to everything his friends say.

“No, I think he had a crush on Pepito and now that we’re out as a couple he kind of resents me,” he replies, “how about Willy?”

Willy slams his face into his lunch and rubs it into the table, blowing bubbles.

“No,” Zim and Squee say simultaneously.

They keep looking around then Zim nudges Squee and points at their classmate Carl. He scoops up some mashed potatoes and misses his mouth completely, dumping them into his lap. He sighs with mild disappointment.

“Perfect,” Squee grins.

They approach him and lean against his table.

“Hey, Carl,” Zim smiles, “wanna help us with a little project?”

“Really? You want my help?” he asks surprise.

“Of course,” Squee replies, “when we thought about this problem we knew that you would be perfect for it.”

“Wow,” he breathes in awe. “Uh yeah, yeah I’ll help.” “Excellent,” Zim smirks. They grab his arms and hoist him up. “Let’s go.”

“Wa-wait, right now? It’s not to do with Skool? What about lunch?” Carl asks as they lead him away.

“Ask no questions,” Zim orders and they usher him out of the cafeteria.

“Hey, how are we getting over there anyway?” Squee asks.

“We’ll take Dib’s car,” Zim replies, “I got his keys.”

“How’d you get his keys?”

“I said ask no questions.”

They walk to Dib and Gaz’s house and get into the car, Zim in the driver’s seat and Carl in the back.

“Do you even know how to drive?” Squee asks.

“Of course,” Zim nods as he backs out of the garage. “It is so primitive.”

Along the way, Zim and Squee explain to Carl what he has to do. They tell him he has to convince a bunch of alien lovers he wants to join them and ask them about their alien. They tell him what to say, how to act. He seems to understand but it’s had to say with his blank expression.

They arrive at their destination within an hour and park a couple blocks away. They walk to the building and sure enough all of the alien fanatics are still there, along with Skoodge out of his disguise.

“Whoa, is that like a for real alien?” Carl asks.

“Uuuuhhhhh,” Zim and Squee say awkwardly.

“No, it’s just a kid in a costume,” Squee replies.

“Right, but they think he’s a real alien so you have to pretend like you do too,” Zim adds.

“Ah, okay,” Carl nods.

“Now, put this on,” Zim demands as he hands him a little, speaker-like device. “Just stick it under your shirt or something where no one can see it.”

Carl does so and Zim grabs a larger speaker-like device from his PAK.

“We’ll be listening the entire time,” Zim says.

“But what if they find out I’m like joking?” Carl asks.

“As long as you remember what we told you, you’ll do fine,” Squee replies, “besides, if anything goes wrong, we’ll be right here to help you.”

“Okay, you ready?” Zim asks.

Carl nods enthusiastically.

“Then get in there,” he orders.

Carl swings open the door of the building and marches in like he owns the place.

“If this goes south, we leave him,” Zim orders.

“Agreed,” Squee nods.

They crouch in front of the window and peek in, listening to everyone’s voices through the speaker.

“Hey, guys,” Carl says as he walks up to the crowd.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, who’s this kid?” one of them says.

“I heard you guys were like big alien experts,” he explains, “I like love aliens. They are so sweet. So I was wondering if I could join you.”

“You ‘heard’ about us?” another one asks, “where would you have heard about us?”

“I have my ways.”

“Atta boy, Carl,” Squee nods approvingly, “be vague. They love that.”

The fanatics seem unconvinced and wary. They’re all standing around Skoodge, keeping him out of sight.

“Shouldn’t you be in school?” one of them asks.

“Pft, school,” Carl scoffs, “it’s just a method of brain washing perpetrated by the aliens that have taken root in the government.”

The fanatics nod and comment agreeably. Zim and Squee cheer silently.

“We taught him so well,” Zim grins.

“Okay, kid,” another says, “you like aliens? Well, we happen to have our own alien.”

“Really?” Carl questions, feigning surprise.

The group steps aside revealing Skoodge, who looks up at Carl with confusion and a little fear.

“Wow!” he exclaims, “where’d you find it?”

“It was trying to blend in with human society but it slipped up and we caught it,” the fanatic explains, “we have it coming here every day to talk to us so we can learn about its society.”

“Ugh, Skoodge really screwed up,” Zim hisses. Squee quickly shushes him.

“Really? Why don’t you try like dissecting it or something?” Carl asks.

“We want to, but it said its living with its leaders and if they found out it went missing, they would destroy the planet,” another fanatics replies, “so we have to keep our little meetings hidden.”

“Hey, alien,” another fanatics says, “this kid should be able infiltrate your base right? He’s shorter than we are.”

“Uh no no,” Skoodge replies, “h-he is still too tall.”

The fanatics all groan with annoyance.

“Skoodge really is in trouble,” Squee whispers, “he’s been forced to come here against his will. What should we do now?”

“I guess we should rescue him,” Zim grunts, “but there are a lot of them. Let’s retreat for now, get the rest of the team, and then we’ll come back for him.”

“Good idea,” Squee nods.

They start to inch away but stop when one of the fanatics says, “hey, kid. You wanna see something cool?”

“Yeah,” Carl replies.

Out of curiosity, Zim and Squee peek back into the window. He’s grabbed some kind of device from a bag. It looks like a pair of metal rods connected by wires to something like a car battery. He taps the rods together, making sparks of electricity.

“You should see how the alien reacts when we tap these against the pack on his back,” he says, smirking maliciously.

The others start snickering while Skoodge backs away, shaking his head. Zim and Squee blanch as they grab him to hold him still and the first fanatic approaches him.

He starts to tap Skoodge’s PAK with the rods when Zim’s spider legs rip through the boards on the window and he and Squee leap inside.

“Stop!” Zim barks.

Everyone looks at them with surprise.

“Who the hell are you two?” one of them asks.

“The Battalion,” Zim snarls, “and you’ve stolen something of mine.” “Zim!” Skoodge exclaim happily.

“He has the same green skin,” one of the fanatics point out, “he’s an alien too!”

“And that kid must be some sort of alien sympathizer,” another says, pointing at Squee.

“Or he’s brainwashed.”

“Am not!” Squee snaps.

“Either way,” the fanatics with the torturing device growls, “grab them.”

The fanatics charge the kids. Zim and Squee react quickly; Zim’s spider legs pick him up while Squee rolls out of the way.

“Whoa, look at his tech!” one of the fanatics exclaim.

“Quick gawking!” another barks, “take him down!”

They try grabbing his legs or climbing them but he keeps moving, stepping over them like ants. Meanwhile Squee easily dodges his assailants, jumping over them, ducking under them, or sidestepping them as they try to tackle him. He keeps moving through the room with his superior agility until he’s reached Skoodge. Then he slides across the floor and picks him before jumping to his feet.

“I’m so happy to you see you guys!” Skoodge cries as he hugs Squee’s head.

“I can tell,” Squee grunts then shouts, “Zim, let’s get out of here!”

“Right!” Zim nods. He starts to stretch a spider leg across the room for Squee to grab.

“No!” the fanatic with the torture device snaps. He throws one of the rods and hits Zim’s PAK head on.

The electric shock going through Zim’s body is nearly visible. He convulses as his spider legs go limp and he falls unconscious to the floor.

“Zim!” Squee cries.

One of the fanatics successfully tackles him, knocking Skoodge from his hands. They hold him down, pinning his arms to his back and pressing his face to the floor. He tries to shout but they quickly gag him with a cloth.

Amidst the chaos, Carl crawls away and disappears without anyone noticing.

Later at Skool, Dib and Pepito open their lockers to put their stuff away and get ready to go home.

“Have you heard from Zim or Squee?” Dib asks.

“No,” Pepito replies, “they’re not answering me.”

“Me neither,” he sighs.

“Should…should we be worried?” Dib doesn’t reply just groans uncertainly.

As they turn away, they spot Carl moving through the crowd.

“Hey, Carl,” Pepito calls as they approach him. “Weren’t you helping Zim and Squee? Where are they?” “Oh, yeah,” Carl says like he just remembered. “Things were getting a little crazy so I left.”

“Crazy?” Dib questions, “crazy how?”

“Well, they had like a weird device and Zim and Squee got all pissed and they start fighting so I-.”

“They’re in trouble?” Pepito snaps and grabs the front of Carl’s shirt. “They’re in trouble and you left them? You spineless twit! Where are they?”

Carl quickly tells them where Zim and Squee are. Pepito shoves him aside and he and Dib race through the Skool.

“How are we gonna get there?” Pepito asks.

“We’ll stop at my house and take my car,” Dib replies, “I got the key-.” He stops as he pats his pockets. “My keys! Ugh, Zim must’ve taken them.”

“It’s okay, my mom can drive us. We’ll just go from my house,” Pepito says.

They meet Gaz outside and tell her to follow them.

“Gaz, come on,” Dib orders.

“What’s going on?” she asks as she runs with them.

“Zim and Squee are trouble,” Pepito replies.

“Oh, those idiots.”

They try to act calm as they get into Pepito’s mom’s car.

“Hey, Mom,” Pepito says, “is it cool if Dib and Gaz come over?”

“Sure,” she replies, “but what about Squee and Zim?” “Uh, they’re gonna meet us somewhere.”

She drives them home across the city. Dib, Gaz, and Pepito are antsy the whole way. As soon as she’s pulled over, they jump out of the car and race away.

“Where are you going?” Pepito’s mom asks.

“Gotta take care of something,” Pepito calls back, “bye!”

They race through the streets, following Carl’s directions until they reach the general area. They spot a building with busted boards hanging off the window and peek through.

Squee is tucked into the far corner, his ankles and wrists bound and a gag in his mouth. There are two guys standing beside him, kicking him every time he tries to move.

Everyone else is gathered around Zim and Skoodge, both out of their disguises. Zim looks half conscious, his eyes glazed and drooping and his body limp. All of the fanatics are examining him freely, tugging at his clothes and antennae. He doesn’t look like he has the strength to fight.

��Dib, Gaz, and Pepito gasp angrily and leap inside.

“Hey!” Dib shouts.

Everyone looks at them with surprise. Squee lets out a muffled noise of relief.

“Let our friends go,” he growls.

“Who are you supposed to be?” one of the fanatics asks.

Dib pulls on his shocker glove, Gaz slams her bat onto the ground, and Pepito lights his hands up with black power.

“The Battalion,” Dib snarls.

Pepito shoots a blast into the ceiling, causing some rubble to fall. Everyone screams with surprise as they clamber out of the way.

As soon as his guards are gone, Squee starts wrestling with his restraints and tries to free himself. Zim still isn’t quite right and falls limp to the floor. Skoodge stays near him and tries to rouse him awake.

Dib, Gaz, and Pepito do their best to fight off the fanatics. They’re startled from the explosion but they still outnumber the kids. Dib shocks them with his glove, Gaz beats them with their bat, and Pepito smacks them with his powered fists.

Dib manages to fight his way to Zim. He grabs him by his shoulders and shakes him.

“Zim! Zim, wake up!” he barks.

“Ugh, D-Dib?” he croaks.

Dib starts to smile with relief when somebody elbows the side of his head. He exclaims in pain as he falls to the floor.

“Dib!” Zim exclaims, completely conscious. He growls and jumps to his feet as his spider legs pop out.

One of the fanatics grabs the electrocution device. Zim starts trembling, his spider legs shrinking away.

“Zim, what’s wrong?” Pepito asks as he punches a fanatic in the stomach.

Zim hesitates then shakes his head and snarls, “nothing.”

Skoodge stares up at him with awe.

“Pepito, grab Squee!” Zim orders, “Gaz, help Dib! Everyone, get ready to leave!”

Pepito blasts a couple guys out of his way and hurries to Squee. He coughs and spits after Pepito takes out his gag.

“How’d you know we were here?” Squee asks as Pepito unties him.

“Carl came back to the Skool,” he replies.

“That little weasel,” he grunts.

Gaz hits some guys with her bat and kneels beside Dib. She hooks his arm around her neck and helps him to his feet.

“Ugh, I’m okay,” he groans, “a little woozy but I’ll be fine.”

They all hurry over to Zim and face off against the fanatics. Any that were knocked down are getting back up. The kids get ready for a fight.

Skoodge suddenly steps in front of them, his PAK opening up.

“Skoodge?” Zim questions.

“That’s enough,” he growls.

His spider legs stick out of his PAK and the ends come together over Skoodge’s head, pointing at the fanatics. They start glowing pink.

All of a sudden a giant beam fires from the legs. It blasts through the fanatics, the entire opposite wall, and then three more buildings after that, leaving behind nothing but dust.

The kids are completely speechless, their jaws hanging open as the beam fades away.

“Oops,” Skoodge squeaks, “I guess I didn’t lower the power as much as I thought.”

The kids close their mouth and look at each other with surprise.

“You know,” Zim says, “I kind of forgot that Skoodge actually conquered a planet once.”

They all leave the mangled building, sighing and checking out their injuries.

“Is everyone okay?” Pepito asks.

“Yeah,” Squee sighs, “just a couple bruises and scrapes thankfully.” “Those guys were weak,” Gaz snorts.

“What about you, Zim?” Dib asks, “you didn’t look so good before.”

“They got lucky,” he scoffs.

“Zim, I’m sorry,” Skoodge says. Everyone looks down at him with surprise. “A few days ago the wind blew off my wig and those guys all saw. I was so scared that somebody actually saw me without my disguise that I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want you to be disappointed or angry with me so I didn’t tell you. But I shouldn’t have lied. I’m sorry.”

“Uh, well, I-,” Zim stammers.

Dib, Gaz, and Pepito look at each other then sigh.

“We’re sorry too,” Pepito says.

“We should’ve listened to you guys,” Dib adds, “you were right when you thought there was trouble. If we had all been together, then maybe you wouldn’t have gotten hurt and captured. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry,” Gaz mutters.

Zim shouts, exasperated, and throws his hands into the air. “Would everybody stop apologizing for five seconds! Nobody’s in trouble, nobody disappointed me, we’re all okay! So let’s just…get some ice cream or something.”

“Yeah!” everyone cheers.

A few minutes later, they’re sitting on the curb outside a convenience store. Skoodge is drinking a cup of soda, Dib is eating a sundae, Gaz is sucking a Popsicle, Pepito is licking a soft serve, and Squee is slurping a BrainFreezy. Zim is sitting between them, tapping his finger impatiently.

“There, is everyone happy?” he asks.

“Yup,” they chime.

“Good,” he huffs.

#Invader Zim #Invader Zim fanfiction #Johnny the Homicidal Maniac #Johnny the Homicidal Maniac fanfiction #IZ JtHM crossover #my art #my ocs

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gripefroot · 4 years ago

Text

Potato Potahto

Bucky can’t stop replaying last night's encounter in his head.

It had been something magical. Skin and teeth and tongues and slick and hot and wet - he hadn’t felt satisfied for hours, trying to wring just one more out of you - as you teased and tormented him, pretending like you were so cool and nonchalant but each time you climaxed it was more more don’t stop Bucky, and he knows you’re as screwed as he is.

The hazy look in your eyes, the dopey smile as you recline in a chair in the Tower common room, absently staring over Bucky’s shoulder (so as not to be obvious), confirms it. His lips twist into a smirk - your eyes flit to his, and his grins broadens. He can hear the little stutter in your heart beat. It’s cute.

“What do you mean the book isn’t available online?” Stark’s voice cuts through Bucky’s daze, but he doesn’t look away from you. Everyone else is so distracted with whatever the issue is, that he probably won’t even be noticed.

Probably.

“It was published in freaking 1978. Go to the library if you’re so desperate,” Clint says.

“I don’t have a library card,” Tony says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“I’d let you borrow mine,” Steve drawls from beside Bucky, glancing up from his phone. “But I think it expired.”

The joke is appreciated - everyone chuckles along, and your smile brightens the room more than any sun. Bucky’s staring again.

“Library cards can be renewed,” you tease Steve. “Unless you have outstanding fees you’re trying to avoid.”

Steve grimaces. “I was never any good at paying fines.”

“It’s true,” Bucky deadpans, glancing around the room but mostly speaking to you. “He’d pass by a bakery and use his fine money to buy a bun instead. The librarians stopped letting him borrow books - and he never even put on any muscle he wanted.”

More laughter. Your eyes are sparkling, and a strange warmth steals over Bucky as he grins.

“Can’t you just have some stooge downstairs get it for you and scan it into some system?” Clint asks. Tony brightens.

“Of course! I’ll talk to Pepper right away.” And Stark winds around a coffee table a brisk pace, eager on his journey, as a silent exchange is passed through the room. Bucky bites his lip to keep from laughing, and even Natasha snorts.

“Can’t even go to a library,” you sigh.

“Can’t even go to a library,” Sam repeats with a snicker.

Conversation turns to something Bucky doesn’t find interesting. He goes back to watching you, when no one’s looking, and even sending you a wink when he’s feeling bold. Hearing the quickening of your heart, sensing your temperature rising - he likes that very much. Unconsciously (mostly) he drags his tongue across his bottom lip - drawing your immediate gaze, and your eyes widen ever-so-slightly. You uncross your legs, and cross them again, and Bucky’s pants are getting tight. Had you done that on purpose?

“I’m back!” Stark announces, and Bucky’s gaze is drawn away. “Okay folks, while that’s getting taken care of - ”

“By an intern,” Nat mumbles.

“ - let’s get back to our previous topic. Mission. Toronto. Tomorrow. Got it?”

Startled, Bucky can’t help blurting out, “What?” Now everyone’s looking at him, and his face turns hot. He slouches, hoping to disguise the situation still going on in his pants.

“Come on, weren’t you listening?” Clint complains.

“Nah, he was daydreaming,” Sam teases. “That girl you were with last night got you all worked up, huh Barnes?”

“Uh - ” Bucky blanks. Completely.

“What?” Natasha says, now sitting up straight, her eyes alight with interest.

“Can we get back to discussing the mission?” Tony tries, but Natasha cuts him off, her beady stare directly on Bucky and making him supremely uncomfortable. At least his boner’s going down.

“Tell us more,” Nat urges, a little smirk on her lips.

“I’ll tell you,” Sam says quickly. “Last night Steve and Barnes and I went out for burgers - fifteen minutes in, Barnes gets a text and goes all red in the face, and he high-tails it out of there. I don’t even think he said goodbye!”

Steve comes to Bucky’s rescue, thankfully - calm as ever. “Oh, sure he did. And it could’ve been anything, Sam. Put away the tinfoil hat.”

“Nah, it was a girl,” Clint says, leaning back in his chair. His hands are behind his head, and he’s grinning. That doesn’t bode well. “I saw a hickey on Bucky’s shoulder in the gym shower this morning.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Sam exults, as the room breaks into surprised chatter. Tony is pinching the bridge of his nose - Bucky wants to die - but otherwise this causes the stir Clint was undoubtedly intending. Even Steve is eyeing Bucky with interest, and Sam is bouncing on the edge of the couch. Only you are cool, as ever. Typical.

“Well?” Natasha demands. “Aren’t you going to tell us?”

“Tell you what?” Bucky says coolly. “Seems like you’ve already decided what’s going on in my life.”

“Well, it’s not like you tell us,” you say with a grin. “Someone’s got to fill in the cracks.”

Oh, he’s gonna get you for that.

“Yeah, 28’s right,” Clint says over general snickering at Bucky’s expense. “Tell us more about yourself and then we won’t have to speculate.”

Bucky glares around - at everyone in turn, and at you. You smirk in return, and his bad humor isn’t quite as bad as it should be. “I don’t like to be questioned,” he says at last.

“Glad we can get that out of the way,” Stark snaps, and Natasha sighs, sitting back down in defeat. Steve is shaking his head. “Alright, remember, folks? Mission tomorrow? Yeah? Anyone planning on showing up for that?”

“Yes, Tony, we’re coming,” you tell him, eyes dancing. “Except maybe Bucky, who apparently is too busy with his love life to bother with the rest of us.”

Yep. You’re in real trouble. And you know it, too - as everyone cackles at your joke, you shoot him a wink. Bucky narrows his eyes. He’s already formulating a plan…

...Which he puts into practice sometime around midnight, to great success in the privacy of your bedroom, until you’re finally dotted with enough love bites to satisfy him. For now.

“Serves you right,” you say stoutly, tracing a finger over a particularly dark hickey above your breast, as Bucky watches with interest. He’s sitting against the headboard, a little exhausted, and you’re laying opposite to him with your feet propped up by his head. He can still see the sparkle in your eyes from this angle, at least, and he quirks a brow.

“Serves me right for what? Loving you so good?”

“For running out on Steve and Sam like that,” you tease. “Not very assassin-y of you to be so obvious.”

“Well if you hadn’t sent that text - ”

You cut him off with a laugh. “Don’t even try it, Buck! I don’t regret it one bit.”

“You might regret it if someone hacks into my phone and sees it.”

“Oh, please. No one’s gonna hack into your phone.”

Bucky lifts a brow. “And you know that, how?”

“Because they all think you’ll snap their necks if they take that liberty with you.” The smile curling your lips draws Bucky’s attention, before his eyes flicker back up to meet your gaze.

“And you?” he asks.

“I’m not scared to take liberties.” With that husky declaration, you swing your feet down and prop yourself onto all fours, drawing close to Bucky as he tries to swallow the sudden dryness in his throat. In the dim light, he can see how deep your eyes are, and how utterly enchanting.

“Yeah, you’re probably gonna get away with it,” Bucky admits softly, admiring how swollen your lips are.

“Mmm. I’m just glad that text was from me, and not another girl.”

He chuckles, tangling his fingers in your hair as your lips draw close to his. He can feel your breath, and he sucks in the familiar taste as his blood starts to rush again. “You think I’d dare do that, babe? Everyone’s scared of me - but I think that if I crossed you my head would end up on a spike.”

Your laugh warms his soul - it really does - and Bucky feels a growing warmth in his chest as you swing a leg over his hips, cupping his face in your hands as you brush your lips against his. And then pull away. Bucky groans, his hands on your waist trying to pull you back.

“If I put your head on a spike, I wouldn’t be able to kiss you anymore,” you murmur into his mouth.

“Er - yeah, that would be a shame.” Bucky is rewarded with a longer kiss, but this time he pulls away curiously, meeting your hooded eyes. “If you’re glad I’m not texting other girls, that means you’re keeping me around, right?”

Your brow quirks. “Are you keeping me around?”

“Have I...indicated that I’m not?”

“No. Have I?”

“Guess not.”

“Glad we could work this out,” you say, laughing a little, and then there’s more kissing and more love bites - this time on Bucky, too. To his chagrin.

The next morning all evidence of lovemaking is hidden beneath layers of tac gear. You’d made extra sure of that, as you’d dressed that morning. It was worth teasing Bucky - but the hassle of concealing every last hickey is not ideal. Worth it, though.

Toronto’s warehouse district is empty, peeling rust and gusting cold northern wind. Two-person teams are paired off by Tony and sent to each entrance. When he announces that Bucky and you are assigned to the south exit, it takes some self-control not to cackle to yourself - but why not save it for later? Creeping along the south wall, you keep one eye on the door and one on Bucky slightly ahead of you, his rifle on his shoulder. And his bum.

A knock on the door yields nothing, and after some quick work with a gadget from his metal hand, Bucky ducks into the warehouse. You step in behind, fingers tracing the knife at your thigh.

It’s a large, dark space - you blink for a moment, intent on any signs of activity. Bad guys with guns, traces of smuggled vibranium - that sort of thing. But nothing yet - only a few shafts of light through broken windows several feet up, and a distant red exit sign to the left.

Suddenly Bucky turns. “Two from the east,” he says shortly.

“No guns yet, Barnes,” comes Stark’s voice over the coms. “We don’t want them to know we’re here. You too, Wilson.”

“Aw, man,” Sam complains.

“I got ‘em,” you tell Bucky. You can hear the footsteps now, too - and striding forward, you sling out your knife as two, darkly-clad men come into view from the shadows.

They have handguns - no qualms about being found out, clearly - but a quick kick dislodges the first guard’s gun, and before the other can pull the trigger you grasp his wrist, jabbing down. The second gun drops to the concrete ground with a clatter, and you twist his arm back as he gives a howl. A shove from your knee in his back and he’s limp on the ground - the first guard is approaching with a knife of his own now, eyes glittering eerily in the dim light. Swipe, dodge, duck, jab - you stab under his arm. Dodge, swerve, uppercut, stab - a punch to the face with your opposite hand and a second wound in his shoulder drops him, too.

The second man is moaning now. You strike a foot out, connecting your heavy boot with his face, and the nose cracks - but he doesn’t move anymore. Mumbles from the first guard - an identical kick to the face, and then all is quiet again. Bending over, you wipe the blood of your knife onto one of their uniforms before sheathing it back into its place at your waist, and standing to return to Bucky.

“Wow,” he says softly, his eyes wide. “I’d be lyin’ if I didn’t say that was pretty hot.”

“Then don’t lie,” you tease. “A girl appreciates honesty.”

Bucky chortles, reaching down to swipe one of the guards’ guns. “Spoils?” he asks, quirking a grin at you.

“No, thanks. I’m packing enough.”

The gun soars through a broken window, and the second follows.

“South exit is clear,” you announce on the coms. “Any 20 on more perps?”

“Ground floor sweep is complete,” Steve reports back. “Nothing. Upstairs?”

“We’re on it,” Bucky says, nodding towards you.

“Clint and I are scoping out the basement,” Natasha reports. “There’s some wiring down here Stark might like to see.”

“Ooo, I do love wiring,” Tony says.

You cast Bucky a wink - he smiles in return - and leading the way you tromp off towards where the guards had come from. There’s a door there which leads to the upper level, but no further guards. Not very well stationed, this warehouse. Considering it’s supposed to be hiding vibranium. At the top of the stairs, you shoulder through a rusty door.

No rooms, just an enormous space - dozens of windows line the walls of the warehouse, most broken. It’s empty. Well - some overturned furniture, outdated tech and servers, some chairs and a mini fridge.

“Bust,” Bucky mutters. “Unless they can make stolen goods invisible.”

“Or they got it out before we got here,” you suggest.

“Yours seems more likely, I’ll admit.” He slants a smile towards you, and you chortle.

“I’m picking up something on their com station,” Natasha says suddenly. “Be careful, you guys.”

“How very suspicious,” Tony says. “How about we leave?”

“Good idea.”

“We’ll be out in a minute,” you say, heading towards where most of the furniture is toppled over. Some of the tech is still blinking, and Bucky pushes some random buttons on a router with a little frown on his face. You nudge aside some magazines with the toe of your boot, but...it all looks harmless. Which makes it both more and less suspicious.

“The guards are saying something about a bomb,” Natasha’s voice cuts in, jerking your head up in surprise. She sounds like she’s out of breath - leaving the building, probably. Smart. “28? Can you get to it?”

“I could, if I knew where it was,” you say, a little crossly. “But there’s - ” Your eyes, drifting forward, fall on a little sliver visible behind the fridge. “Oh…” you breathe out, and step forward to fall to your knees. “Those idiots. They made a bomb out of a potato.”

“A what?” Sam says, aghast.

“A potato,” Steve clarifies.

“Oh, I used to make those when I was a kid,” Tony remarks. “They’re not hard to disarm, 28. You got this. I mean, as our resident bomb expert…” You roll your eyes to yourself as Bucky crouches beside you, one hand still on his gun.

“You got this?” he asks in a murmur. Much more polite than the others, but his expression is definitely more alert now, as if to prepare for a blast.

“It’s a potato bomb,” you tell him dryly. “I’ve disarmed better.”

There are several wires poking through the potato, and you study it carefully - some appear to be attached to the battery flickering sparks and a countdown, and some seem to just be tangled. Clumsy, inelegant work. You could do better with your eyes closed. If you ever cared to make a crummy potato bomb. But you have standards.

Pulling out a pair of wire cutters from your boot (always handy to have on hand - er, foot), you wet your lips as you give the tangled wires another once-over. And choose a yellow one to snip.

Nothing happens.

“Can we just take it off the battery?” Bucky asks in a hushed voice.

“Sure, if you want it to go boom in our faces. Craving mashed potatoes, are ya?”

“Er - no.”

This time - a blue wire gets snipped. The countdown pauses - and you start to give a sigh of relief before it starts again, double-time.

“Oops,” you say.

“Is everyone out?” Bucky asks briskly into his com.

“We’re all on the jet except you two hooligans,” Clint says. “Can’t you just leave and let the bomb go?”

“There could be people near enough to be affected,” you snap back.

“Then hurry,” Stark says.

“Then stop talking,” you retort.

Ah, blessed silence again. Bucky shifts his weight awkwardly, and you can feel the burn of his eyes on your face.

“Forty seconds,” he says.

“I know!” Impulsively you snip another wire - wrong move. This time the clock changes to 00:00, and the beeping turns furious. Bucky swears.

“Aw, come on!” you shout, as sparks begin to fly. Before you can even kick the dumb potato in frustration (not that it will help), Bucky has stood, and grasping you around the waist starts to pull you away as the battery is engulfed in flames, and a whoosh of heat sucks the air from your lungs. There’s chattering in your ear from the coms, but the roar of violent fire ripping through the empty room makes your ears thud - a few long, striding steps from Bucky, and you cling to his shoulders, burying your face in his neck for protection from the heat - and then a distant crash!

The blessed relief of cooler air - and nothing else. You’re falling - your eyes pop back open, to see above an inferno busting through the windows with shards of glass spilling everywhere - and drifting further away. Suddenly there’s a thud, an oof from Bucky, and you’re rolling, still tight in his embrace, across the parking lot.

Then everything is still.

“Ow,” you whimper. Some residual thrumming in your ears begins to fade, and your head lolls.

“Ow?” comes Bucky’s cross voice. “Excuse me. Who landed with all your weight on their arm, again? Was it you? Because I’m pretty sure that was me.”

Peeking open an eye, you glare at him - he’s about five feet away on the concrete, wincing as he props himself on his flesh arm. The metal appendage opposite - ah, doesn’t look so good. The bicep is caved in from the impact. and the wrist and fingers are all twisted in unnatural shapes and directions.

“I think you’re gonna need a cast,” you murmur.

“Ha, ha.” But the glare Bucky gives you isn’t angry - it’s long-suffering, a tad affectionate, and just plain weary.

“You guys got out,” comes Steve’s voice, too loud in your ear. You rip out your com, hoisting yourself into a sitting position to take deep breaths of clean air. The warehouse is still on fire, through not as violently as before. Metal poles and rafters cave in, and ash spills into the air. You sigh.

“I’m never gonna live this down.”

“Probably not,” Bucky agrees.

There are running footsteps, and you peer over your shoulder to see Nat and Steve, slightly panicked, slightly relieved.

“Thought you two were goners,” Steve says raggedly. “Maybe you could report next time if you need help? Someone to catch you if you’re falling? Sam would’ve done it.”

“Sam would have complained about it, but yes,” Natasha says. “Next time we should split up Impulsive One and No-Self-Preservation Two.”

“Aw, that’s cute, Nat,” you say, taking her hand to stand. “You have nicknames for us. Am I Impulsive One?”

“No, that’s Barnes.”

Your lips twitch with laughter. “Oh. I see.” Glancing over at Bucky, you memorize the sight of his raised eyebrows, the overall offence as he glares at Natasha. But then his eyes meet yours, and you wink. “Well, come on then, Impulsive One,” you tease him. “We’d better get cleaned up.”

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buzzfeedwheeze · 7 years ago

Text

The New Teacher - Shyan AU

CHAPTER 2

Shane watched as Andrew made his way through his second bowl of cereal with milk. Only kids like that, my ass! He was beaming. It just felt so right to sit by his son’s side and enjoy a nice breakfast before leaving for work. Unfortunately, the familiarity of it brought back memories that he wish would’ve stayed buried on the depths of his mind.

He and Sara used to make pancakes of the new characters of Disney that they had been working on at the studio and Andrew would happily munch at them after pointing out mistakes in anatomy or color. The first time he did it, they were so surprised that they thought they had hurt his feelings and perhaps shut down their child, but the next time they tried to subtly make him comment it worked out fine. It should’ve been expected, after all, he was their kid and art was always a big part of their lives so it obviously would attract little Andrew. Shane remembered when they had just adopted Andrew, they were trying to figure out how to make the small 8 year-old interact with them so Sara suggested painting palm trees’ leaves on the living room wall and Andrew sat on the floor and started to make small coconuts. Even though it was sort of painful to revisit the memories, he would always have a fond smile as the mental image of a smaller Andrew with his brows furrowed as he mixed the colors to get the perfect green popped in his mind.

He sighed.

There was no use trying to hold back those memories. Watching Andrew eating his cereal while simultaneously trying to tweet just reminded him other mornings. After Andrew’s second day in high school, he wouldn’t shut up during breakfast about the art class and how the other students loved his style and of course, it was when he met the transfer student from Malaysia, Steven Lim, who even asked to keep one of his drawings.

“Dad, are you in there?” Andrew was waving a hand in front of him. “Earth to dad!”

Shane gave him a tiny nod and went back to staring at his now cold pancakes and coffee. Andrew’s voice was weak when he asked. “Are you thinking about mom again? It’s just that you have that look…”

This time Shane actually made an effort and fought back the urge to hide his emotions from the world. “I… No. Not really. Not now.” he pinched the bridge of his nose. “I wasn’t thinking about her per se and I’m definitely not in love with her anymore, kiddo. I know you might think that I am..”

“It’s not that dad…” Shane made a gesture to stop him.

“It’s just hard to sort of filter my memories. Most of my happy memories with or without you are full of your mom’s presence and it’s tough to get over the fact that I was the happiest when we were together, probably the happiest I’ll ever be. I don’t think I can find someone that will make me feel like that again.” Andrew was looking at him with a concerned expression. “No! It’s not that I am unhappy. I mean, I have you! Andrew, you are the one thing in life that matters, the one thing that makes me wake up in the morning and actually thank god that I’m alive. For you being the way that you are, I’ll forever be grateful. I still can’t believe you chose us, that you chose me.”

“Dad, cut the sentimental crap!” he shouted, but he was visibly taken aback by his dad’s declaration. “You’ll find someone better for you, someone that deserves you. You and mom were okay, but okay doesn’t mean right, you get it?”

“So…” Shane didn’t want to discuss this any further, so he did what he was good at. He changed the focus of the conversation and with a teasing smile playing on his lips he continued. “Are you and Steven right, right?”

“Ugh, you are insufferable!” he snapped as he got up and stormed off to his room, leaving a very amused Shane and his very dirty bowl to be cleaned. As Shane washed the bowl he allowed himself to wonder if maybe his son was right. What if there is someone waiting for me? Nah, that’s bullshit.

XxXxXxXxX

“Have a great day, kiddo!” Shane handed Andrew his backpack and leaned on the side of the car. “Remember to give that Bergara dude hell.”

Andrew rolled his eyes and managed to give his dad a nod before turning around and going in the direction of Steven, who waved at Shane with as much energy as puppy. He watched them holding hands and disappearing inside the school building. It was the perfect image to have in his mind before jumping inside his car and going back to his eight hour shift at the Disney Studio where he would be trying keep sanity as he worked on a new animation project. But life had other plans. As he was about to turn away he noticed a cool Jeep pulling over at the teacher’s parking lot. Shane gritted his teeth as he saw the small guy hopping off the car.

Begara noticed him and as he walked in the direction of the school staring at Shane the whole time in what was supposed to be a menacing way. The staring match didn’t last much since when Ryan was about to climb the stairs to the building he tripped on his own foot and fell. Shane’s laughed was the only thing heard on the area. The other man quickly got up and stuck his middle finger to Shane which would’ve been offensive if he wasn’t blushing like a small kid. Shane chuckled again when he heard the main door of school being slammed.

“What a lovely day.” he said between giggles.

When Shane arrived at the studio there was, indeed, a pile of things to be done, but he was on such a big mood that he actually started to whistle some Disney songs. He turned his computer on and started to work on the animation, trying to make everything in sync and all the transitions smooth to facilitate the job of the Keith, the dude responsible for checking his progress and corrected small details.

The morning passed really fast. So fast Shane didn’t notice it was time to have his lunch break and got startled when Eugene touched his shoulder.

“Jesus, Madej. It’s break time. Stop working.”

Shane got up from his chair and stretched his body, lazily. He pocketed his phone and wallet and was about to leave when he decided to go back and take his sketchbook too. Today he was feeling creative. He decided to go to the Subway near the studio where he wouldn’t have to socialize with his co-workers and where people wouldn’t be asking questions about his doodles.

The place was almost empty, there was only a family of tourists with their ridiculously big Mickey Mouse Ears hats and faces full of sunscreen. Shane ordered a sandwich and chose a more reserved booth. He settled the sketchbook on the table and picked his favorite pencil, which was really small and was completely dented from falls and nervous teeth biting into it.

He gave a tentative bite on the sandwich and moaned slightly as he tasted the unique artificial flavors that only a fast-food chain restaurant could have. No wonder everyone called him a raccoon, he’d consider almost any food delicious. Or at least edible.

Shane started to sketch and after eating half of the food and finishing the face he realized he had drawn the fucking crazy teacher. Ryan Bergara. He ripped the page off and crunched the paper. Why would he draw that guy? He decided to keep the drawing though. It was fine art. So he got the little ball of paper and placed it on his jacket’s pocket.

There was still some time left before he had to go back to work, so he decided to get a nice ice cream cone. Shane bought one with two flavors ,vanilla and cookie though, of Mr. Tinsley a cool older guy that used to work as a detective or something like that in the 70s. Since it wasn’t a hot day, but the sun wouldn’t help the case of his ice cream, he found a nice bench underneath a tree.

He got his phone out and began to browse through Instagram. Then he stopped at a new photo of Steven. In the photo Steven was wearing a tinfoil hat, which wasn’t something so unusual, but the caption of the picture was the problem.

“What the fuck!” Shane perked up on the bench and gripped the ice cream cone harder. “‘@ryanbergara lended his cool hat to me, best teacher ever :)’”

It was impossible to ignore the urge to click on the username. In fact, Shane didn’t even try to hold back. He was bombarded by a series of photos of a Mr. Bergara at Disney and Universal Studios, puppies, Lakers and mirror selfies. He sucked in a breath. If the dude wasn’t bat shit crazy he would totally be my type. His bisexual senses were tingling so he decided to close the app. Nope.

I wonder if he has a twitter account? Maybe I could fight him. Shane clicked on the blue icon on his screen and typed bergara and there it was a @ryansbergara. Shane had a devilish smile as he analised the profile. The fucking profile picture was a photo of him wearing a tinfoil hat and his header was a screenshot of the X-files opening. Not surprising at all but that made Shane itchy to annoy the guy. That was practically begging to receive some of the old skeptic treatment that his family perfect through the generations.

Shane Madej - @shalexandej 01:39 PM

@ryansbergara hey dude nice hat. going to teach the kids how to do one… oh wait you already did!

He watched as a notification pop-up appeared on his screen only a few minutes later.

Ryan Bergara - @ryansbergara 01:42 PM

@shalexandej ha ha ha very funny stalker, i didnt teach them that!! i talked about how it is useless and actually applied some scientific concepts [GIF]

Shane Madej - @shalexandej 01:43 PM

@ryansbergara THANK GOD YOU DID THAT but i’ll have you know that i instructed my kid to make your life hell

Ryan Bergara - @ryansbergara 01:45 PM

@shalexandej oh really? Cause he actually helped in class

Shane Madej - @shalexandej 01:45 PM

@ryansbergara [GIF] NOOOOOO NOT MY KID BERGARA YOU ARE A CULT LEADER

Ryan Bergara - @ryansbergara 01:46 PM

@shalexandej hahahahahhahahsahs maybe ;)

Ryan Bergara - @ryansbergara 01:46 PM

@shalexandej i have to go prepare for my next class, see ya stalker [GIF]

Shane was about to reply when he receiver another type of notification. Ryan had just followed him. Well Bergara, this might be your downfall. He clicked on the follow button and he unconsciously knew how big of mistake that decision was.

#fanfic #shyan fanfic #buzzfeed unsolved #buzzfeed worth it #shane madej #ryan bergara #steven lim #andrew ilnyckyj #mine #my fic

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catigereptile · 7 years ago

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Ah I see, that makes sense. Never thought about it that way but now that you mention it he was the last one to die from the big 5. It'd be interesting to see DW make use of that. Speaking of Zhang He, there's a certain theory out there that says Sima Yi forced Zhang He to charge out to fight Shu even though Zhang said it wasn't a wise thing to do and basically got him killed on purpose to get rid of Wei loyalists who would get in the way of the Jin dynasty's formation. Do you think it's true?

What I’ll say is that it’s not some kind of brand new modern theory. At the end of the Jin, a minister named Wang Hong, who would soon be one of Liu Yu’s top advisors during the Liu-Song, fake-comforted some kid over the death of Liu Yu’s Old General Deputy-type guy Liu Muzhi (suicide, actually, because he figured out that Liu Yu was going to try to usurp the throne), saying something along the lines of “Back in the day, the Wei dynasty relied heavily upon Zhang He, they couldn’t go a day without his advice. When Zhang He died, what became of the Wei dynasty?” And everyone laughed and it made the kid upset so he dismissed everyone from the court. About a year later Liu Yu usurped the throne. It’s in the Nanshi:

南史:【新校本南史·卷十九】孟顗(Hapless Jin Guy)，字彦重，平昌安丘人，卫将军昶(Tragic-ish Jin General)弟也。昶、顗并美风姿，时人谓之双珠 [lol]。昶贵盛，顗不就辟。昶死后，顗历侍中、仆射、太子詹事、散骑常侍、左光禄大夫。尝就徐羡之，因叙关、洛中事，顗叹刘穆之终后便无继者，王弘亦在，甚不平，曰：“昔魏朝酷重张郃，谓不可一日无之。及郃死，何关兴废？”[孟]顗不悦，众宾笑而释之。后卒于会稽太守。

So that’s about 150 years after Zhang He died they were already talking about the idea that his death was somehow connected to the Sima’s usurpation of the throne.

As for a direct response to his death being a Wei vs Jin theory, I say nah. Zhang He was probably pushing 70 at that point, and even though Sima Yi has this reputation as a long-game schemer, I don't think that Sima Yi had the idea of a new dynasty in mind. Though, it is worth noting that the SGZ does point out that Zhang He's influence in Cao Rui's court went at least a little beyond military matters.

HOWEVER personally I think it would be insulting to Sima Yi’s intelligence to think it was just a really stupid mistake. I mean obviously I’m not sure of anything … but if you want my hot take, it would be that Cao Zhen died suddenly, Sima Yi was put in charge suddenly, subsequently made a series of strategic errors that Zhang He, who had been doing this thing for 50 years, had correctly called; Sima Yi was probably worried that Zhang He would replace him as Da Sima, which would simply diminish Sima Yi’s influence, Plotting To Take Over Wei or not. The way the ZZTJ describes those exchanges has kind of a tense vibe to it. I've heard some people argue that the way Zhang He's SGZ bio is written, despite its length, is a little terse.

/takes off tinfoil hat

#Anonymous #Zhang He #China

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sunset-wishes-upon-hill · 7 years ago

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Pandora ch. 3 (RE-WRITTEN)

Pandora (1st/2nd of re written ver uploaded): FF l Wattpad l Quotev

Rewritten and updated on 15/10/2016

A/N: I’m sick - been sick for few weeks and got worse this week. Hopefully I’ll get better so I can focus on my stories.

Her morning started at five am. She would call her mum, speak about how she was doing and how they were doing and briefly reply to Bella’s texts, then leave by bus toward Pontedera where Jessica boarded a seven am train to Florence. Then she would head back to Volterra and arrive at her inn around midnight. Before she came to Volterra, she already visited the mainland and other tourist places. Florence had been the last of her list to visit.

The next day, she headed to the main street and toward the castle. The castle was always bustling with tourists and locals passing through to their work. In few days, she had taken up a habit of hanging out on the top where she could see the surrounding nature of Volterra. She had not seen Alec since the incident with the drunken man and he had made it clear that he hoped this would be the last that they meet. Everything about him – his posture, appearance and clothes – exuded indifferent detachment. Just like the Cullens’. But while the distance she felt from the Cullens’ were the kind people from well-to-do circles sometimes projected, from the designer clothes they wore, the expensive house they lived in and the fancy cars they drove, Alec appeared to be made to linger on a rainy day in grey November weather without being noticed.

Some locals said the vampires still live here. As in this castle.” A girl, few feet away from her, said to her boyfriend.

Jessica’s ears perked up, the Volterra’s past history with vampires were so embedded within its identity that, to this day, was still a subject of fascination to the locals just as it was for the tourists. Finding herself curious about the local legend, she tuned in to the conversation.

“Too bad vampires don’t exist. At least in real life anyway.” Her boyfriend mused as he took a snap of the picture of the scenery with his phone.

“But it’s really interesting though. The old lady at our villa said that vampires had red eyes and beautiful appearances. Some even had supernatural gifts. She told me that her great ancestors even met some of them! This group of vampires came to Volterra long time ago and promised to not harm anyone living here. It was said there was three leaders and guards that were gifted. One of the ancestors said there were even young vampires who looked like they were thirteen or fourteen!”

“Please don’t tell me you believe it those stuff!”

“Still, it’s so interesting!” She reasoned, “Do you know how to tell if they are those Volterra vampires?”

Although skeptical, the boyfriend was equally curious, “How?”

Jessica tipped the water bottle back, welcoming the cooling and satiating sensation down her dry throat.

“She said they all wore a unique golden V pendent necklace and a hood to shield their skin from the sun because they sparkle like diamonds.”

The water jetted out from her mouth and into evaporating bubbles as it floated down the tower. She broke out into a coughing fit as her throat chocked with the regurgitating liquid and her chest tightened as if she was drowning and were resuscitated back to life.

The girl and her boyfriend jerked toward her, startled for a second before the boyfriend returned his gaze to the girl with an absurd look in his face.

“Oh come on! Sparkle? Like diamonds? Even the girl over there thinks it’s so ridiculous she spat out her water. Sarah, I think you had too many wine yesterday.”

“It was vodka, you king kong!” The girl retorted, “The only reason why I drank so much was because you couldn’t!”

“I just didn’t feel so well yesterday. I usually have a much higher tolerance.”

The girl simply rolled her eyes, blew her paper cup and took a small sip of what it seemed to be a black, bitter coffee.

It can’t be that V necklace I saw few days ago right…? Jessica thought before she shook herself out of absurd thought that was forming in her mind, Come on, vampires? What is this? Vampire Diaries? Maybe I should cut back on alcohol…

As her cough resided, she took a careful nip of water again. Another thought snaked its way through her head. But why would he wear those winter coats in summer heat like this? And not get sweaty? Few times he touched me, his skin felt so cold…almost like a..corpse…

“Oh my god, Jessica, what the hell are you thinking?” She muttered, eyes widening at her own ridiculous speculation. Her mind seemed to be writing its own dramatic novel transcending rational and logical thinking.

Come on; think about it…the Cullens’ are ridiculously pale, even for people that live in a town where sun avoids to shine…maybe it’s just a family trait…they’re freakin adopted..maybe they’re a family of vampires…oh Jessica, what the fuck are you thinking? Are you that stupid? Wearing a hood and a V-necklace must mean they must be a vampire pfft, better get my tinfoil hat on.

The couple turned to leave and Jessica repeated to herself not to follow and ask them more about the vampire stories they heard from some old woman. It was a laughable notion to her and more so to them when they realise someone seemed convinced by what could have been said as jest.

Don’t follow. Don’t follow. Just leave it be. Leave it be!

“Excuse me!” Jessica called after and her legs were already moving, DAMN IT JESSICA!

The couple stopped mid-stairs and glanced over their shoulders as Jessica hurried to catch up to the pair.

“So sorry..um but can I ask from who you heard the vampire stories about?” Her cheeks heated red with embarrassment as the couple shared a look with each other before looking back. ‘Someone actually believes it?’ their eyes seemed to accuse.

“I’m really sorry for listening in on your conversation but..I’ve heard people saying this castle used to belong to the vampires and I really want to know more about it.” She babbled nervously, unable to meet their eyes.

“Oh..um..” The girl started then paused then spoke again, “Well, this old lady that owns the villa we’re staying at told me during the dinner. I can tell you the name of it and you can go and try to ask her about it..”

“Um, yeah, that would be great. Thank you so much.” Jessica mustered a smile.

“It’s called Villa Porta all'Arco. It’s literally like ten minutes’ walk from here.” She revealed with arm pointing behind her.

“Thank you so much again!” Jessica said as she made it down the flight of stairs. The girl and the boy looked at each other once again, thinking to themselves ‘Someone’s been watching too much vampire shows’.

Villa Porta all'Arco.. Jessica repeated the name over and over in her head. With the help of street vendor, she was able to find the place at the outskirt of the ancient city walls. The three-story townhouse stood in the middle of the surrounding forests, curtained by the large fronds in each side like nature’s columns.

She stepped forward then stepped back. Would she think I’m..a weirdo? What do I say? ‘Hey I overheard from couple staying at your house about your ancestors meeting the Volterra’s vampires, can I hear more about it?’ Jessica inhaled, trying to muster up the courage.

Why would I even think of vampires being real in the first place?! Jessica asked herself. Her mind answered with series of flashbacks with what was just a simple casual observations of Cullens’ weird behaviours and later, Bella.

They’re beautiful. Inhumanely so. No one can be that perfectly looking or sounding. Their hair was always soft and voluptuous as if every morning they had the professionals take care of their styling, their skin was flawless like a blank canvas waiting to be painted and their voice had such an alluring proponent that she often wondered how all of them were able to attain them. Was there a surgery for it? Heck she Googled them and turns out such procedure actually exist. It couldn’t be a passed on trait from parents, they were all adopted, so how were they all so perfect and beautiful?

They never ate. Ever. She always thought that the cheap, mass produced, over-processed cafeteria food was below their cultured taste. Their school foods weren’t the best, that she agreed wholeheartedly. But she had never seen them eat anything, even things they probably could have packed from home.

They never drank. Anything. Na-dah. How they can go eight hours without drinking was beyond her. Even if they did drink something away from prying eyes, they never did try to disappear from the centre of the attentions. The only time they did was when they went to hiking with their parents. In the rare time the sun did shine in Forks.

Sun. They always disappeared when there was a sun. Ergo sunshine was a rare occurrence in Forks; she tried to think of the time when they did made an appearance to school when the sun was up and she couldn’t.

Oh no... Jessica groaned, for all she know it could have been some gross, misled imaginations her mind decided to make while a sixth sense of sort in her said otherwise. Shaking her head, this isn’t right. Let’s just go back.

She turned to leave when a door opened and a soft, low voice spoke, “Are you going to come in, piccolo?”

Jessica slightly jumped and twirled to see a perennial woman. She saw that she was much older than she originally thought. Perhaps in her late 70s given wizened lines in her face, deep and saggy–– like the skin slipping down the skull underneath and her loosely tied powder-white hair was thinning and her smile showed that her teeth were rather yellow. Along with this, it could be seen that the lips, once beautifully full, were dry and cracked. Her eyes appeared milky in certain light and angle but they were gleaming with energy and while her face appeared world weary at times, she was active and alert.

“Uh…hello, I’m Jessica Stanley.”

“Ciao, you can call me Giada. Would you like to come in?”

“Oh, uh, nah, I was just looking around…” Jessica shook her head apologetically, “I’m sorry for disturbing you.”

“You look like you have something you want to ask.” She sharply noticed and opened the door further, “Come in, child.”

Jessica was startled by her insight before approaching the villa and entered the house as Giada closed the door.

“Would you like any drink?” The old lady asked as she guided her into the drawing room.

“No, thank you, it’s fine.” Jessica smiled as took a seat in the sofa across Giada.

Once settled, Giada looked at Jessica expectedly, “How can I help you?”

“Um, well, I was wondering if you could tell me more about the…um, Volterra’s vampires.” Jessica started and quickly added, “I overheard the conversation from this couple that was staying here that you told them about the legend of vampires and umm…”

Giada stilled and stared into Jessica’s eyes as if searching for something in her.

“People may believe it’s a mere legend but they are real.” She revealed as she carefully studied the change of expressions in Jessica’s countenance, “My ancestor have met them. Very civilized and adhered to strict laws they have created. It was said their beauty was so god-like that human men and women who saw them would fall in love with them.”

“I heard that they also had guards that were gifted?”

“Yes. Very gifted. Very powerful that one should not judge them by appearances.” Then she stood up to retrieve something from the locked glass cupboard. When she came back, in her hands were thickly bounded tattered book covered with dust and mites.

“My ancestors wrote accounts of their arrivals and of their chasings by St. Marcus. Although they suspected they were not chased away but went into hiding underground for the fear of the local’s reprisals.” She gently pushed the diary toward Jessica and she picked it up with great care.

It was written in cursive Italian, which she did not understand and she perused the pages when something loose fell out and onto the marble floor. Picking up, she realised it was various sketches of portraits. The first one was of two young children, about fourteen or fifteen, and they were angelically beautiful. The boy, whose lip was not as full as the girl but just as lovely, was significantly taller than the girl. Although it was hard to make out, they shared similarities one would see in biologically related siblings or twins.

“Ah yes, the youngest vampires in the coterie.” She said, noticing Jessica’s fascination with them. Something about the boy was familiar. His piercing, cold eyes were a stranger but his nose and lips sparked a forgotten memory.

“Do you know their names?” She asked without looking up, still fascinated by the drawing.

“No. Only the leaders.”

“Can I ask how your ancestors knew them so..well?” Jessica’s hand hovered above the boy’s face and as Giada spoke, “One of my ancestors, a woman named Valeria, was a lover of Francesco Solimena, the painter who drew these.” Jessica horizontally twisted her wrist so that her hand covered the top part of his face. Shiver sparked down her spine as she took in the newly formed picture and realised why she seemed to think she saw him before. It was Alec.

Jessica sweep to the next page and almost dropped the old, frail parchments. Had she been standing, her knees would have gave out and collapse on the ground. The familiar and unique crest stared back at her mockingly as it gleefully confirmed her greatest fear. It was the same V crest that was hung on Alec’s neck.

“W..what is the leaders name…?” Jessica whispered weakly. The third and final parchment showed three men sat on the thrones as equal rulers. The one in the centre and on the right could not be any older than in their mid-twenties while the man on the left, looking utterly depressed, seemed to be in his forties. What shocked her was how beautiful they all were. God-like, Giada said and Jessica agreed. It was unnerving to see such perfections when the nature despised perfections.

“Aro, Caius and Marcus…and their friend,” Giada closed her eyes as if she was searching for the final name in her mind.

The fourth man, dressed just as aristocratic as the leaders, was standing nearer to them than anyone by the side. Rather than as their right hand man and confidante, it seemed to convey favour and friendship this man was bestowed. The parchment in her hand seemed to move and appear in two dimensions like seeing through a kaleidoscope tube and realised it was her own hand that were shaking uncontrollably.

“Carlisle I believe his name was. A doctor, he said he was.”

Giada studied the fear and dread on Jessica’s face wordlessly, even when her tan skin became pale as a paper, stood up and rushed out of the house.

Her legs continued running, ignoring the stares from the people she had pushed past unintentionally and the burnings she felt spreading through her body from below. Closing the door behind her loudly, she slid down to the floor in shock.

It can’t be. The old lady must be senile and she must be crazier to even believe her. There was no such thing as vampires. They could have been Carlisle’s ancestor. A great-great-great grandfather that just had scary resemblance to Dr. Cullen she knew. Vampires only existed in TVs and movies and fictions and the necklace she saw Alec wearing must have been some sort of homage to the legend. She let out a breathy, empty laugh and shook her head, “Yeah that must be it. Gosh what was I thinking. Vampires. Yeah right.”

Her phone that had escaped her pocket when she ran inside, tinged as a text popped up on screen.

Bella: What are you doing? :)

With shaking hand, she picked up the phone. She gulped. Then deep breathe then out. Sliding the text, she pressed the call button and heard the dialing tones.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Bella.” Jessica greeted, voice slightly wavering.

“What’s up? You okay?”

“Yeah, guess what I found out about today?”

“What?”

“Did you know there’s this local legend about these vampires of Volterra?”

A dead silent. Then stutter, “U-uh, n-no, really? Woah, that’s so interesting!”

Jessica imagined Bella biting her lips from the other side of the phone. She had always been bad at hiding and lying. Not that she was better, but she was more efficient and aware.

“Yeah, apparently there were these three vampire leaders.” Jessica continued and when Bella said nothing she added, “Their names were apparently Aro, Caius and Marcus. It’s crazy…but I saw a painting of them and there was a man who looked a lot like Dr. Cullen.”

The pause was heavy and palpable. The whole world seemed to have died. If one were to drop a pin in the next door, she’d hear it.

Please laugh and say ‘I’m crazy’ and that it’s all just a weird coincidence, Jessica prayed.

“That sounds cool.” Bella managed at last.

“Edward might know, you know probably heard it from Heidi or something. Or Dr. Cullen, that might be his great-great grandpa or something.” Jessica let out a vain chuckle.

Another pause. Shorter this time.

“Yeah, he might have.” She said.

“Hey, Bella, I gotta go.”

“Jess––“

She hung up and the phone cluttered on the floor. Jessica stood and limply fell on to the bed. She didn’t want to think anything else. After hours of tossing and turning, she finally fell into a restless sleep.

In her dream, she imagined the angelically beautiful vampires and the leaders coming to life and their crimson eyes boring into her blue ones. Behind them, stood Carlisle; melancholy look in his eyes.

The next day, she had been spending all her mornings on Googling what probably was the most bizarre and comical questions. On her phone, popped up a message saying she had seven missed calls from Bella.

‘help, I found out someone I know is a vampire’

‘what to do when you know a vampire’

‘vampires real?��

‘vampire history’

‘how to tell if they’re a vampire’

‘vampire weakness’

‘vampire’

There were so many myths and legends about vampires, each positing different weakness, strengths, characteristics and its origin. But most seemed to agree that vampires were unnaturally beautiful, pale, drank blood and had heightened strength and senses beyond human capabilities. And undead.

It was said that they could be killed or harmed by garlic, holy items, wooden stakes, silver and sunlight. Which sounded a bit silly. Because if, and if, Cullens and Alec and Heidi were vampires, which Jessica had her doubt, most of weakness written here didn’t seemed to affect them at all.

She knew Alice and Rosalie loved to wear gold and silver jewelries and Alec didn’t seem too bothered by the sunlight. And Dr. Cullen worked in a hospital as a doctor for heaven sake ––which was not a wise career to take if your diet consisted of only blood. Jessica was beginning to think they were as reliable as child’s fairytale. But Giada said that the Carlisle in the painting was also a doctor. Either Dr. Cullen was lying or he had an impeccable control over his..uh, hunger?

She’s been treated by Dr. Cullens ever since he and his family arrived in town. The first time they met was when she nearly died after slipping on a dog biscuit in the kitchen, did a somersault in the air and fell face flat on the marble floor, broke her nose and busted a lip bad that by the time she arrived in the hospital her hair, face, legs and white PJ dress were covered in blood like she had just came out from the murder scene. Dr. Cullen simply laughed and treated her. She never gotten the feeling he wanted to eat her then.

But would her finding out that the Cullens’ were vampires change her views toward them? They were weird and unjustly perfect but would that make her go and buy herself a cross, silver and a stake to protect herself if they did turned out to be vampires? Turn her back on them and be scared and afraid when she hadn’t before? If they were a vampire, they had so many chances to kill her and others but they didn’t. In fact, other than the weird serial killings of people by some wild animals or something, the Forks didn’t have any fresh bodies turning up at the morgue weeks after weeks. If they were responsible for those deaths, why then, why wait few years to start killing?

Does the fact that they were vampires mean everything they were before meant nothing? Can she let it defined them? ‘They’re vampires, so that mean they kill people and are dangerous and are monsters’? When they drank human blood, did they kill them or do some memory wiping magic and let them go their own way?

Jessica massaged her aching temples, groaning as her phone buzzed once again. If Alec were a vampire, why didn’t he kill her before?

Because they don’t kill those within these walls. She remembered the lady’s words. The last thing they want was vampires going around recklessly killing people in sight and flaming people’s ire. Because humans, no matter how powerless they may be against vampires, won’t just idly stand around and wait for their turn. They’re gonna die trying.

So did that mean as long as she stayed within these walls, Alec can’t do anything? Or Heidi? Would she be fucking stupid enough to try? Test out her little crazy, wacky theory of hers’? Sometimes she wondered where she gets this confidence from while sober. They say that there’s no confidence utterly foolish and inane than the drunks’ but she might have topped that level of insanity.

What if Alec isn’t a vampire and when he hears what she tried to do, he’d laugh at her? Call her crazy and a fool, as he liked to say. But as she glanced at the phone vibrating on her bed and the notification showing she now had ten missed calls from Bella, why was it that everything seemed to be pointing to this absurd, ridiculous notion of hers’?

Please let this be not true.

Grabbing her phone, the bag and closing her laptop screen, she left her room.

Her footsteps were languid and burdened with mix of emotions; trepidation, apprehension, nervousness with a touch of foreboding sense of catharsis. Her heart palpitated painfully against her ribcage as she arrived in front of the gate that would presumably lead to the castle.

‘Hey, it might sound crazy but I still gotta ask: are you a vampire?’ She repeated the script over and over in her head. Then a quick yes or no would be more than enough.

She waited for him to come. Like a prey waiting for its predator’s arrival to face the inevitable. He always seemed to know she was here and there doesn’t seem to be any CCTV around for someone to tell Alec, ‘Alec, the crazy girl is here, again. Kick her out would you?’

“Was my previous warning not enough?” The musical voice said from behind her.

She turned, slowly, to face the mystery boy in dark hood in a Midsummer Day. The boiling heat doesn’t seem to affect him and she could almost feel coolness emitting from him.

Okay, Jessica, start with ‘Hey, it might sound crazy…’ Her mind calmly began.

She opened her mouth and asked, “Are you a vampire?”

JESSICA STANLEY, I SAID TO BEGIN WITH ‘HEY, IT MIGHT SOUND CRAZY’, YOU DON’T GO HARDCORE STRAIGHT!

But the water has been spilt. The boy was still like a statue, and then glided toward her, closing the gap in two long strides. His movements segued smoothly that she could not call it a walk.

“What make you think I’m a vampire?”

“Well, they say vampires have different coloured eyes or something, right?” Jessica ventured.

He did not answer her.

“You always have your face covered.” Jessica reasoned wearily, “Show me your face.”

He was close enough for her to see the corner of his lip twitch upward, “You’re treading on a dangerous line here.”

Final warning, he was telling her. Turn around and walk away before you have a chance, it was saying. She had a chance to go back to her usual musing of him being a mafia or a cult member or an assassin. She might be happy and glad deluding herself with these theories instead of supernatural ones.

Jessica wanted to run, quickly mutter out ‘sorry, I’m drunk!’ and go on about her life in Volterra and leave quietly, treasuring her meeting with Alec and Heidi as one of those nice but insignificant people that’ll have little impact on her in the future as she lived. They could be those forgotten memories. The forgotten faces of the strangers she had walked past in a random, foreign street.

Her arm reached up, hesitant whether he’ll let her do what she wanted to do. When he made no move to stop her, she grabbed the edge of the hood.

“It’s your very last chance.” He said in a low voice that was too unfamiliar to her. It was strange hearing him speak like that. She was so used to his friendly tone.

Gulping down her fears, she slowly pulled down the hood until it rested on his neck.

Jessica blinked against the still ones.

Blue met red.

Jessica wished it was coloured contacts. A very expensive, realistic contacts. Heidi had her purples ones and Alec had red ones. Just a unique individual’s taste. She wished.

The face that stared back at her was the very same one in the drawing that she had seen next to the girl. Even after all these years and times, his delicate face remained unchanging and forever lovely than the finished painting in the Vatican. One would think he was an ordinary young boy were it not for the sharpness in his eyes that could only come with time. His eyes were striking colour of crimson glided with long, thick dark lashes. She thought the drawing did not do him justice because he was so much more complete and deeper than the elaborate strokes on a paper.

“…Am I going to die now?” It came out in a hoarse whisper.

“I can’t let you live now that you know who I am.” His arm reached out toward her. The same arm that saved her from the drunken man now bore out its claws to kill.

“W-wait!” She stepped back, “You can’t kill me. Not at least when I’m still in these walls.”

He stilled and tilted his head, “Where did you obtain that information?”

He might try to kill Giada.

“..B-Bella!” She lied, “She said you don’t kill people here.”

“That law doesn’t apply to those that know our identity.” He stepped forward and she stepped back until she could feel the solidness of the wood on her shoulders and rear.

She felt the tear gathering in the corner of her eyes. You’re such a suicidal idiot, her mind told her. It was all her fault. She could have walked away when he gave her the chance but she needed to know. She was so tired of wondering, wondering what the Cullens’ were hiding, wondering why Bella was acting so weird ever since she got involved with Edward, wondering why the cycle started again with Alec and Heidi.

And she got her answers that she sought out. With a price. Her life. Was she satisfied now? Happy? Or is it the ‘I told you so’ case?

“Is Alec even your real name?” She asked for what was probably her last.

“Yes.”

“How old are you?”

“Fifteen.”

“Vampire age.” She clarified.

He smiled and although she had seen him smile before with half of his face hidden, her breath hitched at the sight.

“I don’t keep count.”

“You’re not gonna believe me even if I say I’m not gonna tell anyone that you’re a vampire.”

“We don’t take any risk.”

We. That meant he wasn’t alone. There were others. Other vampires. In Volterra. The vampires of Volterra.

“Give me a chance. Please...please.”

“We do not give any chances.” His arm grabbed her neck, the other her shoulder. Tear slipped down her cheek in silent mourn as she felt his breath hover above the crook of her neck.

“Do you think…you can have my body sent to my parents?” She asked, staring at the large, mature tree over his shoulder.

“Your body will be destroyed.”

She felt the strength leaving her body as she surrendered to her inevitable death. Closing her eyes, imagining her parents’ reaction to the daughter that vanished and will never be found gripped her heart painfully.

“It was nice meeting you, Alec.” She said before becoming limp in his arm. The phone buzzed frantically in her pocket.

#pandora story #pandora rewritten

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bi-rezi · 7 years ago

Text

LONG below cut, just cosplay thoughts, nothing beyond lists of what i’d need for certain characters and some rambling

the reason for all this is that the friend who went with me to geek kon last year asked if i wanted to go this year. i told them maybe because on the one hand it was super fun but on the other hand i have a job now, so we’ll see. any amount of this may or may not pan out.

for jasprose:

white wig

white face paint

fur? (just for cheeks)

white cat ears

purple/pink headband

long-sleeved white tunic (with purple/pink trim and puff sleeves)

white leggins with pink/purple trim

pink/purple socks

white shoes with pink/purple trim

the fucking, neckpiece thing

pink/purple party hat

fangs (opt.)

pink/purple contacts (opt.) (ONE EYE OF EACH WOULD BE SICK AS FUCK)

for davepeta:

so much god. probably not worth it, sadly.

for karkat:

new, better wig

loose plain black shirt (to add symbol)

plain gray pants - do i already have these?

teeth (opt.)

gray/red contacts (opt.)

ears (opt.)

for dave:

wig (throwback to when i had dave hair haha)

shirt

red contacts (opt.)

for rose:

new, better wig

white/lavendar pencil skirt

purple contacts (opt.)

for dead aradia:

wig maybe

horns - wire, tinfoil, yarn, paint

black t-shirt - cut up sleeves + slit in bottom hem

long gray skirt - cut up

red and white socks

black vans w/ white laces (opt.)

white mesh contacts (opt.)

ears (opt.)

for kanaya:

wig maybe

black t shirt

red skirt - make?

white face paint (opt.)

green lipstick (opt.)

purple sash with green stain (if white face paint) (opt.)

gray/green contacts (opt.)

ears (opt.)

for roxy:

wig

shirt

skirt

legwarmers

scarf (opt.)

pink contacts (opt.)

for dirk:

wig (and id have to style it, ugh)

shirt

glasses - probably part thrift, part make, though it depends on what kind of stuff i can find

i have a broken styrofoam head so its a pipe dream of mine that i sculpt that with clay into a semi-realistic severed head and then either carry it around as dirk with the sendificator over my head or as jake and kiss it occasionally, but i have a lot of different feelings over the latter lately so probably i’d do the former. either way, that’d be a lot of work.

for sollux:

wig (hopefully not same wig as karkat/kanaya/anyone else)

horns

shirt

gray pants

a pair of white shoes and a pair of black shoes (which is annoying as fuck BUT i could use the black shoes for aradia w the white shoes’s laces and vice versa for roxy so id be able to use them for other stuff. plus vans-type shoes are cheap)

red and blue glasses (probably make somehow??)

red/blue contacts (opt.)

teeth (opt.)

ears (opt.)

nepeta’d be cool but a pretty particular (purrticular) type of person (nepeta stans, basically, and i’m not one of those) tends to cosplay her so ill pass

for terezi:

wig

horns

shirt

glasses - make somehow

red shoes

red contacts (opt.)

teeth (opt.)

ears (opt.)

for vriska (pre loss of eye and arm because that shits hard):

wig

horns

shirt

gray overshirt

glasses

red shoes (preferably something that looks like converse but i could just use the same shoes for her and terezi)

i dont actually remember if i have good blue lipstick or not. i know i have shitty blue lipstick that basically doesnt have pigment but im not sure about good blue lipstick. in any case i know tricks for that but hm. not sure.

blue/gray contacts (opt.)

fangs (opt.)

ears (opt.)

equius... im just not really interested. i once thought about doing eridan but i dont like him anymore so nah. feferi... would be cool, but i think the skirt would be a little beyond my knowledge of sewing. i could do jane or jade but frankly i find them harder to emulate as a cosplayer and i could do john, jake, or dirk, but i just dont wanna.

for meenah:

braids - i wont make the mistake of trying to make them out of real fake hair again, i promise you that, i still have two seven-foot chunks of loose hair in the basement that im not doing anything with

trident - i literally have all the materials for this i just havent made it

glasses - make somehow/thrift a pair

shirt - the one i used to have is ruined (i know canonically she wears a t shirt but for some reason everyone cosplays her in a crop top, including me.) (i fucked up my shirt by not knowing how to work the printing stuff i got, like, the night before the con.)

tank top (depending on whether my current one fits me still)

horns - the ones i have are pretty much beyond fixing now so i’d have to start over. that’s fine though, i have plenty of materials.

teeth (opt.)

mesh contacts (opt.)

ear fins - i have these but i could stand to paint them pink since atm theyre purple, but otherwise theyre pretty close to perfect as is.

universal items i’ll probably need no matter what:

black and white t shirts (thats pretty much everyone)

screenprinting paper for dark or light shirts, depending on who i do

i have paint but having more wouldn’t hurt, and i might want/need white paint as well

fangs/teeth - for these i’d like to buy nice scarecrow fangs and use those and then maybe make some shitty mouthfuls of teeth with fake nails and that melty plastic shit

wigs - i’m willing to shell out a bit more for these as well. i’d like a nice short black one for karkat, kanaya, and if i ever decide to do jane, john, or jake, and though i have a long black wig it sucks pretty hard and i need a better one, probably curly, with bangs. though straight would be okay for most of these anyway. the only person who needs a medium length wig is terezi, and that’s actually pretty much true for all of hs, which is... too bad.

horns - i have a few pairs of horns already and PLENTY of clay to make more, but for bigger horns i’d need more than model magic. for aradia (and probably eridan and mmmaybe equius though im not doing either of them) and maybe vriska and kanaya (just to make those joints easier) id use the wire, tinfoil, and yarn method, but anything smaller than that i can use my clay. i already have peixes and vantas horns, though the peixes horns are broken and are resisting being fixed and the vantas horns don’t attach very well. i also have leijon horns in the works as well that were originally for davepeta. but id use clay to make vantas, captor, leijon, maybe maryam, pyrope, and maybe equius horns, and i used it for my peixes horns (though i didnt attach them well to the headband so those didnt go great).

contacts - i have actual regular contacts now, so now i wont have to worry about being blind ever. the next step is to get cosplay lenses (yes i know safe sites to get them from, yes i know my prescription and what size to get, yes i know how to be safe buying contacts). the best investement for sure would be a gray pair and a mesh pair, just speaking in terms of sheer number of characters. beyond that, it depends on who i end up cosplaying as to what color lenses i buy. for instance, if i decide on aradia, meenah, and dave, white and red lenses make the most sense. if i decide on rose, jasprose, and karkat, purple and gray ones make the most sense.

for any glasses, i’m going to be looking at thrift shops first and foremost. if i don’t find anything in a reasonable time, i’ll find stuff online.

i have probably two-thirds of a pot of snazzaroo, which will probably be enough, but if i decide to do a sprite or vampire kanaya, i’ll need white paint as well. plus if i decide to do more than one troll, i might want more gray paint anyway.

ears - i dont have any rn. i know a few methods to make them and a few places i can buy them but i’d probably end up making them anyway, mostly for cost-effectiveness.

as for money... well, i’ll do my best. i have an actual job now, and it’s pretty good. ive worked a lot in my first few days and ill keep working so even with taxes my paychecks are gonna be pretty sweet. id take commissions but i still have yet to consistently create any kind of art so im waiting til i can do that. also i dont have a way to get that money rn. nbd either way; i dont have any expenses besides this type of thing atm so its not like im hurting for money.

also i wouldnt have to cosplay only homestuck but a) im lazy and b) ive never loved anything the way ive loved homestuck so i kind of wouldnt want to betray my brand(tm)

(but if i wasnt going to cosplay only homestuck, which might be a good idea since idk how much homestuck the person i’d be going with is doing, i’d probably do taako.)

#id kind of actually prefer if yall didnt reblog this its mostly just a post for me #cosplay ref #i guess #i literally did every character i'd be willing to cosplay and then some #i dont think id really want to cosplay sollux if it came down to it lol he just seemed pretty easy #same w dirk #dirkjake mention in there but it's really subtle - it's when im talking about cosplaying dirk #it also refers to a canon event #decapitation under the cut but again its for like two lines while im talking about cosplaying dirk so #god i remember back when i did used to regularly cosplay though #well regularly is a loose word i guess #i did like three omeglestucks and posted fifteen bajillion pictures of makeup tests #i also did a SICK ASS BLOODSWAP i was fuchsia karkat and my friend was purple kanaya and it was GREAT

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