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blowflyfag · 6 months

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Pro Wrestling Illustrated: September 1996

Public Enemy: “They’re Insane In The Membrane!”

HAVOC INC. PAYS THE PRICE FOR HERO WORSHIP

It’s one thing to respect an opposing team. It’s another thing to worship them … even after they just gave you the worst whipping of your life

By Dave Rosenbaum

[Public Enemy’s Johnny Grunge applies a rear chinlock on Havoc Inc.’s Hollywood as Hollywood grimaces in pain. The punishment PE dealt out to Havoc Inc. would get much, much worse, though. ]

WE DON’T KNOW if Aretha Franklin’s friend ever found out what R-E-S-P-E-C-T meant to her, but here’s what it meant to Havoc Inc., a team that might have put Public Enemy a little too high on a pedestal.

“They’re insane in the membrane!” said Rocco Rock of Public Enemy. “You gotta be a fool to get into that ring without a little bit of respect for your opponent, but there ain't no room in wrestling for hero worship, not when your heroes are going to kick the livin’ crap out of you!”

Put even more succinctly by Public Enemy’s Johnny Grunge, “They always dreamed of getting their butts kicked by Public Enemy. Well, they got their wish and then some!”

***

Two men named O’Dog and Hollywood fell in love about three years ago–and not with each other! The object of their desire was a wrestling tag team, Public Enemy.

But this is no Goldust story. It’s about two wrestlers who saw a tag team and immediately said, “We’ve gotta be like them!” Rock and Grunge was the tag team O’Dog and Hollywood dreamed of being.

“You see those guys in the ring and know that’s what tag team wrestling is supposed to be all about,” Hollywood said. “You’re talking about two wrestlers who had been around a whole, but they never clicked until they made a team. They’re fearless, and they’re great wrestlers, too.”

[Hollywood used to love watching Rocco Rock set opponents up on press tables, then send them crashing through those tables. He probably never thought Rock would someday try it on him!]

Hollywood, who checks in at 6’4”, 275 pounds, and O’Dog, whose vitals are 5’10”, 180 pounds, had spent five years wrestling for independents in the Carolinas, Georgia, and Oregon. They are a streetfighting team that never could distinguish themselves from the other streetfighting teams and had settled into a life of making ends meet.

They were also fans. O’Dog and Hollywood were regularly in attendance at ECW matches in Philadelphia when Public Enemy wrestled. They’d sit at ringside, make mental notes of what they saw, and once even had the chance to shake their heroes’ hands.

“I don’t remember it,” Grunge spat. “Not that it was worth remembering.” So enthralled was Havoc Inc. with PE that O’Dog and Hollywood sent a letter in care of WCW to Public Enemy that described in detail why Rock and Grunge were the greatest Tag team in the world.

“We didn't see any harm in that!” O’Dog said.

“Stupidest thing anybody’s ever done!” Grunge said. “It ticked us off. If some tag team’s gonna copy us, they better get it right and just do it. Public Enemy asks no questions, we just kick butt. You do sissy stuff like writin’ gushy letters and you’re askin’ for trouble from us. We had to teach them a lesson about what being tough is all about.”

It’s March 22 at an Int’l Pro Wrestling card in Leighton, Pennsylvania, and Havoc Inc.is about to realize its dream of being in the same ring as Public Enemy. What they don't know is they’re about to be destroyed by PE.

Since arriving in WCW late last year, Public Enemy has only occasionally competed on independent cards. But tonight, Grunge and Rock are wrestling in tiny Lehighton because they want the chance to violently meet the team that admires them so.

[Havoc Inc.’s O’Dog had Rock on the run early in the match, but the advantage didn’t last long. PE had a message to send to Havoc Inc. On this night. They delivered it in very violent fashion!]

“We thought they’d like to shake our hands or maybe enjoy a few knees to the gut from us,” Rock chortled. “Maybe they’d enjoy having their necks broken by the best tag team in the world. That’ll give them something to tell their grandchildren about … if they’re still capable of having grandchildren!”

It’s questionable after this one. A match that many thought would be totally one-sided ends up being very competitive for a while. Once they get control of the match, though, Public Enemy draws out the affair and teaches Havoc Inc.a lesson in violence and mayhem. Public Enemy sends both of their opponents crashing through wooden tables, Rocco Rock with a somersault, grunge with a crushing elbowdrop. The match spills outside of the ring and into the bleachers, where Havoc Inc. are spectators to their own beating.

[Havoc Inc. do take their worship of PE to the extreme. They even write on the tape they use on their wrists (above), which is something Rock and Grunge often do. Looks like Grunge wasn’t too flattered (below).]

With the fans on their side, Rock and Grunge crush the upstarts and leave them battered. Havoc Inc. looks like it has been through a war but strangely, O’Dog and Hollywood are smiling.

“Now we want The Gangstas,”Hollywood said, “That would make our year! Public Enemy and The Gangstas. Can you imagine that?”

Can you believe it? “I swear, I would’ve killed them if they came up to us and thanked us for nearly ending their lives,” Grunge said.

“I definitely would’ve finished the job.” Rock added.

Maybe they should have, because O’Dog and Hollywood are unflappable.

“You have to pay your dues and learn your lessons in wrestling,” Hollywood said. “We learned our lesson tonight about what it takes to be at Public Enemy’s level. Maybe we have some work to do, but that’s okay.”

Said O’Dog: “I'm just mad that we didn’t get a chance to shake their hands.”

No, but Public Enemy shook everything else on a night of glorified violence for Havoc Inc.

#havoc inc #public enemy #PWI #pro wrestling illustrated #magazine scan #magazine transcript #O'Dog #Hollywood #Johnny Grunge #Rocco Rock

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weedsmokingkonata42069 · 2 years

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i just had the crazzziiessstttt dream

#dont look in tags #basically my dream was i was back at school and high on dmx and then there was drama w these girls at school for #some reason #then i found out one of the girls w drama or whatever was the sister of MY friend #and i was like 'bro why didnt u tell me !'#then i stumbled into class #every1 was looking at me like i was crazy except for my teacher mr mclellan #kinda like irl #what an insane in the membrane dream #personal #drug ment in tags #weird dreams

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that-one-anime-writer · 3 years

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G/T feels got me going insane in the membrane-

Giants just fully admiring their tinies- LIKE SO MUCH THAT THEY START TO DAY DREAM IN FRONT OF THEM. Like the tiny is just doing normal shit like- idk admiring themselves in the mirror or working on fixing something and the giant just has big ass dreamy eyes. Idk it's just like their brain sometimes can't comprehend that they're so small and adorable at the same time.

"Hey! Hello.... EARTH TO BIG"

"What huh? Oh... sorry..."

"You were staring... I'm just cleaning-"

"Right right uh- clean away!! Heh..." *thinks about snatching them up and peppering them with kisses*

#g/t #giant/tiny #g/t community #g/t concept #size difference #g/t scenario #g/t idea #borrowers #g/t fluff #g/t writing #tinies #g/t prompts

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unhealthyfanobsession · 3 years

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Loving the Nessian Lawyer AU fic!! That Nesta is an Armani girl? Yesssss --just *chef's kiss* 💋 Here's a prompt for you if you please: canon-verse jealous!nessian. Cassian arrives late to an evening event at the Summer Court high lord meeting. Nesta's wearing a black gown. Only as she walks he notices the mid-thigh high slit 👀👀

Oh you KNOW I love a jealous Cassian. I took some liberties with the dress because by Prythian standards I just wasn’t sure a thigh slit would cut it ;)I also gave Nesta some new power because she deserves it!!

Keep the requests coming guys I’m having so much fun!!

The death of Beron Vanserra, as it turned out, was the birth of peace among the courts of Prythian.

Tamlin was still a jackass, but not powerful enough to actually ever take a stand or reject peace.

So the courts banded together. An impenetrable alliance of forces that the continent nations wouldn’t dare March on. And to uphold that agreement, this is what they did now. Once a year they had a summit. The hosting Court rotated and this was the first year it was being held in Summer. Rhys joked that he had to make a special appeal for Cassian to be allowed back in Tarquin’s court after the infamous building incident.

Whatever.

It wasn’t even that big of a building. Tarquin could be so dramatic.

Anyway, the point was that Beron’s death had been a very good thing for everyone. But that still didn’t mean Cassian liked having to sit in a room with Tamlin and Eris Vanserra. Alone.

Ok not alone. But… basically alone. Mor had abandoned him the second they walked in and she was giggling with Vivianne on the other end of the room. Rhys and Feyre were trying to nail down an agreement with Thesan to import some of his Faebane stopping powder.

Azriel wasn’t there at all because he and Gwyn were on some insane spy mission in Vallahan that had to coincide with this summit because that was when all the other territories relaxed. Got lazy and assumed there was no threat from Prythian.

But, you might be asking yourself, Cassian still shouldn’t be alone here, right? He had a mate. A beautiful, powerful, mother communing, force of nature of a mate.

Who was, for all of those stunning qualities that made him love her, a very in demand woman.

Right now she was working with Helion. She’d been gone more than a week. And a week the month before that. And the month before that. And they should be done now. Should be ready to present to the group this new spell that they were creating.

A protection spell. Nesta and Helion were creating a spell. Like gods of magic. Not ingrained, learned, trained, magic. They were creating magic. Spells.

She was a witch. Cassian smirked at the thought. A beautiful, brilliant, witch goddess.

And she was his.

So why did Eris scuff the legs of his chair and sit up three inches straighter when she walked into the room.

And why did Helion have his hand on the small of her back as he lead her into the room.

Gods, she was beautiful. A streak of devastating black silk in the sea of the white-clad Day courtiers.

Her hair, brighter than when she left, more gold from the hours he knew she spent in Helion’s sun-drenched library, was braided up in its usual style.

The dress had a collar that molded around her neck and then dipped into a sweat heart neckline just at the base of her throat. Long sleeved and floor length.

Devastating.

And then she took a step forward.

The left side of the dress split open to reveal a shock of creamy white skin that looked like porcelain against the dark fabric. Cassian took a hard breath in when she moved again. The slit went up to her hip. Not her thigh. Her fucking hip.

Nope.

“Control yourself,” Cassian growled in reaction to the scent that was leaching off of Eris as the High Lord of Autumn stared at his mate.

Cassian flew out of his chair. Making it across the room in three long strides and carefully pulling his mate from out of Helion’s grasp.

“Hello, Nes.” Cassian murmured in her ear, pressed a kiss to her temple, and subtly, wrapped his wing around the left side of her body to cover up the slit.

Not subtle enough, however, as Nesta simply smirked in response and ran her finger down the membrane until his wing, and the rest of his body, trembled. “I’ve missed you.”

“Gods I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too, General.” Helion smirked, sidling up right beside Nesta.

“I assume I have you to thank for this dress,” Cassian narrowed his eyes.

“Your mate is a brilliant, incredible, extraordinary female.” Helion winked, “But I still like having pretty things to look at while we work.”

“Call me a pretty thing one more time and I’ll blast you with the offensive spell I’m going to work on next.”

Helion smiled, “Oh how I love that fire. Don’t get all growly with me, General. I’d never think to steal her away into my bed. Without you, that is.”

“In your dreams.” Cassian’s body was vibrating, but he knew Helion was just being Helion. And he didn’t deserve the jealous rage storming through Cassian to be unleashed on him.

Cassian took Nesta’s hand and brought her to their seats.

“Wait,” Cassian raised an eyebrow. “You need a High Lord to develop spells. Your connection to the Mother and their connection to the Court comes together to make the spells. Balance, you said.”

“You remembered, A+ my love.”

“No. I mean… an offensive spell. Are you working with Rhys?”

“No,” Nesta smirked.

“But that kind of magic only comes from Night, Winter, and-“

“I’ll be sure to control myself, while she’s a guest of Autumn, Brute.” Eris had never looked so smug in his life. And that was a high bar.

“I do hope it’s Lucien.” Cassian said, deathly calm.

“What?”

“The brother who the magic chooses to be High Lord after I fucking murder you.” Cassian shrugged, “I hope it’s Lucien.”

Me at that last line:

SJM, Apparently, for no reason:

#nessian #drabbles open #nessian fanfiction #nesta archeron #acosf #eris vanserra #helion #gwynriel #cassian #nesta and cassian #a court of thorns and roses #sarah j maas #a court of silver flames #a court of mist and fury #acotar

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lestat-wesker · 4 years

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Top of Invader Zim fanfiction extremely IN CHARACTER

So, I’ve been reading a lot of wonderful, insanely good works. I’m spechless of the talent of all the writers. Here I selected some AO3 fanfics that flawlessly meet the goal of have canon Invader Zim’s vibes all over them: 1) A parade of Indignities by @rissynicole This masterpiece takes place some years after the canon story, and makes an excellent character development of Dib and his hateful bond with Zim when they discover the true about the Irken Empire and what it really thinks of Zim. (NO ZADR/ SFW/ COMPLETE) 2) Red Line by DarkAbyss This short story is full of terror and the protagonists’s reactions are pretty much what you can wait from them in such scary situation. Ideal for Hallowennies!! (NO ZADR/ SFW/ COMPLETE) 3) Post Mortem by @depressed-zimothy Do you ever wonder what would happen if Dib Membrane’s dream of catch Zim and expose him comes true? Here’s the answer, in this short story. Very in character Dib! (NO ZADR/ SFW/ COMPLETE) 4) Verdik’a by DesdemonaKaylose This one is full of action, full of Dib being a cryptid hunter how we all expect from his teenager version, and Zim having a very interesting perspective of what “true love” is being an irken (ZADR/ SFW/ COMPLETE) 5) Height Treason by @wholesomeklei The comedy level in this one easily compete with a Rick and Morty’s script. So in character that if it wasn’t for the mature content you will say it’s a cancelled episode from the show (ZADR/ No SFW/ NO COMPLETE) 6) Space Trash by @aperfecttimeforscreaming The misanthropy of the adult version of Dib is strong in this one. The rhythm of the events and the internal monologues from Dib are really something you could wait from this bizarre show. Art from the author highly recommended too (ZADR/ No SFW/ NO COMPLETE) 7) Flush by p0rk This is the most horrible and accurate story I read. Zim’s personality is so canon feral, you can really picture him talking and acting like you can see here. Warning for gore scenes (it’s in comedy tone but I think it should be said) (ZADR/ No SFW/ NO COMPLETE) 8) While The Song Remains The Same by @chipper-daily This short and beautiful story has SO MUCH LORE. The chronological order’s explanation of the show is galaxy brain level here. All the dimensions of the Invader Zim universe are taken into account. Personal fave (ZADR/ SFW/ COMPLETE) PART 2, PART 3

#invader zim fanfiction #fanfiction rec #zadf #zadr #invader zim #horrible in a good-IZ-like way of course #thanks to all of you for your hard work

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invadernurse · 3 years

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Return of 'Catching Flies'

So it's been quite a while since I posted last. Predictably, I've been rather busy with life. But between this and that, I have been working on editing/revising several of my stories, Catching Flies being one of them.

So, until I get up to Chapter Twelve and edit the Ao3 version, I was going to post chapters here.

So here is Chapter one: Cruel and Unusual

Fic: Catching Flies

Overall Rating: Teen

Summary: You catch more flies with honey than vinegar. That’s what they say anyway.

Teacher!Reader makes the mistake of trying to help the two most troubled kids in your class. This leads to forming a science club, learning some childhood psychology, adopting an alien older than you, and somehow catching Professor Membrane’s interest.

Non-binary Reader; The reader does have a last name: Nemo-- which means no-name.

Relationships: Eventual Professor Membrane/Reader. Mainly platonic found-family between Reader and Zim and Dib.

"Fight! Fight! Fight!"

The chanting slowly grew louder over the usual schoolyard din after school had been dismissed for the day. It caught your attention from your post, making you frown. Most middle schoolers were either waiting for someone to pick them up or trudging home in the late summer heat. However, a crowd had gathered near the sports field; angry yells and screams muted only by the group as they jeered and cheered. Another fight. It was less than a month since the semester began, and this was the third fight you had broken up, mainly because the other teachers only turned the other way. You could see Miss Maple casting a bored glance towards the crowd, shrug her shoulders, and go back to her phone.

You sighed in resignation and started toward the fight. If it was Zim and Dib again, you were….

It was. You could see Dib's signature black coat and Zim's off-color skin over the crowd as the two boys rolled on the ground, fighting each other tooth and nail. "Oh, for fuck's sake," you growled quietly to yourself as you hurried across the lawn when you realized how intense the squabble was. "Ok! Break it up!" you snapped, your voice cutting across the children'. You were rather pleased as the other children paled before scattering quickly.

Except the two boys seemed oblivious to your command. Dib bit into Zim's gloved hand, earning a sharp scream from the literal olive-skinned kid. You saw Zim raise his other hand and you quickly grabbed it before he could yank Dib's wild hair. "I said: stop!" You ripped the two boys apart, one hand clutching Zim's gloved hand while the other had a fistful of the back of Dib's coat. Both boys seemed stunned by your sudden appearance, their eyes wide as you glared down at them. "My office. Now!"

You didn't give them a chance to react before you dragged them back to the school, ignoring them as they switched between blaming each other for the fight and throwing barbs at one another. This was not what you expected when you took this job. You had heard the big city was chaotic, but the rumors hadn’t dissuaded you. Kids were kids no matter where they lived, right?

No. They weren't. At least not these two. There was no doubt in your mind that both Zim and Dib were brilliant one way or another, but they were also absolutely insane. At least to you, it was apparent that Zim was technologically gifted, and Dib was well suited for the investigator he dreamed of being. The two boys could easily inherit the world if only they had their heads screwed on right.

Except Dib had a very unhealthy obsession with the paranormal, far more than anyone else you had even met. His imagination reached far beyond anything you could even dream of, and he was utterly convinced every single thing from vampire bees to aliens were real. You almost questioned if he wasn't living in his own reality at times.

As for Zim, his egomania alone was staggering. He seemed convinced that the world should revolve around him. And he had absolutely no idea when it came to social situations to the point you wondered if he was undiagnosed with some kind of behavioral disorder.

You finally reached your hole-in-the-wall office and let go of the preteens as you pushed open your door and gestured to the two seats in front of your desk. "Sit," you insisted as they hesitated in the hall, glaring at each other. They had twin expressions of petulance on their face as you took your seat to face them before following your directions. "Explain what exactly compelled you two to try and kill each other."

Instantly you were overwhelmed with both of them talking at the same time, their voices quickly rising as they tried talking over each other. That obviously was a bad idea. "One at a time!" you corrected, shouting over them. Thankfully they quickly quieted, except now they were glaring at each other. "Zim, you first."

A manic smile spread across the boy's lips as he pointed at his peer."Haha! You see Dib-worm! They recognize my superiority and trustworthiness over you! Zim is--"

"Ok, no. If you’re going to be like that, Dib is talking first," you interrupted, already aware that if Zim started to talk in the third person it meant trouble. Heck, it had been evident in the first few days of the semester.

Dib, to his credit, didn't boast other than a small little smirk sent Zim's way before he turned to you with an earnest and straight face and said: "He was getting ready to activate his machine to turn everyone into monkey slaves."

Before you could even try to comprehend his sentence, Zim gave a sharp bark of triumphant laughter. "Ha! You’re wrong! I would never use disgusting monkeys for my research!" He smiled proudly as his voice softened: "It was going to be chinchillas."

You sighed as you rubbed the bridge of your nose. You should have just sent them to the principal's office. Except for the oaf Meyers was beyond useless. You had brought up all your concerns that first week, only for the man to pick his nose and shrug his shoulders. He didn't care about how the school was falling apart, or how the children were running around without discipline, or even the fact that the textbooks were not just outdated, but horribly wrong.

"And you thought starting a fight was the best way to solve the situation?" You asked weakly after a moment, unsure what else to do. Anyplace else, you would have reminded them to grab a teacher. Except none of the other teachers seemed to care.

"Well, we aren't chinchillas right now, so yeah?" Dib answered truthfully, making you pause.

"I do have to admit Dib-stink's actions did temporarily set back my mission," Zim agreed with a nod, which only flabbergasted you further. "Otherwise all you human scum would be chattering little fur balls worshiping at mighty Zim's feet!"

Another groan escaped your lips as Zim chuckled darkly. You weren't paid enough for this. But you didn’t become a teacher because of the pay. You did it to help raise and nurture the next generation. "You both have detention for the next week."

-+-

The next day after school you led the two grumbling boys into the depths of the school to a room you had discovered a while back. After all, you had a feeling that the usual detention hall, where they would be barely supervised and mainly left to their own devices, would do little good.

These geniuses need something a little unorthodox to reprimand them.

"This is cruel and unusual punishment!" Dib cried out, looking at the mess that had once been a science lab. You don't know what happened to it, just that it had been abandoned, used as a trash room, and then forgotten about long before you ever became a teacher.

Granted, you just became a fully fledged teacher this year.

"I refuse to be a-a cleaning slave!" Zim yelled. "I am far above such disgusting things!"

"Tough," you answered, handing both of them a trash bag. "I want you to sort this mess out, together. Trash what is unusable, sort what can be scrapped or fixed and pile them into a corner."

This wasn't a job for any kid. But these two...you were confident they could easily figure out which was which. Plus you were fairly sure it wasn't too hazardous. Most of it was smaller things, like chairs, decade-old computers, and other such things. "Everyday after class for the next week you are both going to be here to clean up. If you fight, that's one more day you have to serve detention."

You settled into a chair you had found, bringing out a book you had bought. ‘Childhood counseling for morons.’ If no one else would help these two, you would.

As the week progressed, the days seemed to be stretched out with the extra hour of detention everyday. As it turned out, Dib and Zim literally could not go one day without fighting. Which only landed more detention time to last until winter break.

Slowly though the room started to look less like a junkyard and more like a room just in need of a little TLC. You bought bins to help sort out reusable scrap and broken things. You had also used the hours to learn more about the two.

Zim was needy not only for attention, but praise as well. It was like opening a can of worms once you started giving compliments to both boys. The rivalry only worsened, but you saw it mainly as Zim being desperate to prove he was better. It was astounding how much he seemed to crave your approval once you started to show him some attention, making you question his home life he never mentioned.

Dib wasn't nearly as desperate for approval, though he did react well to it like any kid. Just listening to him about his ideas on aliens, ghosts, and vampire bees, and asking honest questions made him warm up to you quick enough. Every afternoon brought another theory. Another paranormal monster, or another government conspiracy to hide the truth.

What sites did he browse in his spare time? Half of his ideas were more complex and more creative than most of the books you have read. To be honest, part of the reason you listened so intently was just to hear and hopefully encourage his imagination.

Then, in the middle of the second week, just as everything was nearing the end, he had one last idea that rattled you to your core.

"You do realize Zim is an alien, right?" Dib asked after you had let them go from detention.

"Why do you believe that?" You asked instead of laughing, which had been your first reaction. Yes, Zim was a little different…. Okay, very different. But an alien? Really?

"Just look at him! He-he's green!" Dib answered defensively with all of the conviction of a child believing he was right. "I've seen his spaceship and everything! He's an Irken invader that came to destroy the Earth! Granted, after what happened on Peace Day he doesn't seem as hellbent on destroying or conquering the Earth anymore…"

You paused, remembering those trippy couple of days you had spent under your bed, sure that you somehow got dosed with LSD. Later it had been announced a mass hallucination-- possibly caused by the prototype Membraclets and the last minute 'upgrades.' Granted you hadn't been able to afford one after the massive price hike, but there was no other rational explanation.

You forced those thoughts away and focused on the boy in front of you. "You know, from what I've seen, I think he just needs someone to listen to him." After spending so many hours with Dib, you knew telling him that his ideas were foolish or crazy was the worst possible thing to do. Instead, the book you had read encouraged trying to change the delusion from the inside out. "Maybe steer him in the right direction. Have you tried showing him why he shouldn't destroy the Earth?" Dib had a thoughtful look on his face, making you cheer mentally. "It's easier to trap flies with honey than vinegar," you pointed out rather desperately, hoping that you weren't getting in too deep. But the thoughtful expression turned even more serious.

"I could trap him by being his friend...I mean, it has its merits, but would Zim fall for it?" There was a pause as he mulled his thoughts before apparently reaching a conclusion and his thin lips broke out into a conspiratorial smile. “Thanks Mx. Nemo! I'm going to give it a shot!"

He ran out laughing, and you were already regretting your decision.

------

Chapter Two

#invader zim #professor membrane #invader zim dib #iz zim #invader zim zadf #zadf #Professor membrane x reader #Invader Zim Fic #Catching Flies fic

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nopeferatu · 2 years

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Heres a snippet of something ive been working on for weeks now bc im insane in da membrane (insane in da brain!)

yeah

----

He had been trying to work on it with Randall, using his salesfloor charm to someday ease him onto that same sweet idea he had proposed aloud to another only a few times before but thought on constantly. Part of his mind was telling him that he was gonna get shot down again, too. Only difference there really was in the mess of it all was that he had given up trying to convince the man who, for better or worse, owned his heart and soul and ass and all them other feely bits on the inside, and instead turned his sights on Randall.

Randall, sweet Randall. He was nice, sure enough. Was the first to ever put Jack in the position of being pursued by a man, not the one pursuing, and he had to admit that it made him feel a tad on the special side; made him feel a little like he was someone worth wanting and not just someone who latched himself onto a man like some sorta queer disease, making a muck of that poor sucker's life and of those around him. That special feeling he'd given Jack had almost even made up for the fact that Randall's blond hair wasn't the same shade as the soft, tawny curls he longed to run his fingers through when he laid staring at the ceiling at night, or how he always felt disappointment stir inside of him when he looked into Randall's mirroring crystalline blue eyes and realized that he had been holding his breath; hoping briefly to find, in their place, the pair of warm whiskey oceans that Jack drowned in within his dreams.

Maybe Randall wasn't his first choice in that great game of dodgeball called life, but in the wake of two disappointing decades dotted sparsely with fourteen hour drives, back and forth, for a mere seven-day-long taste of the sweet life he had always wanted with the man he truly loved, he figured he could make do.

After all, it was that very same lover who'd told him that if he couldn't fix somethin', then he just had to stand it, right? Whenever the longing got so fierce that it damn near drove Jack insane, he would mention his idea of that sweet life to the man who held his heart in his clenched fist, and over time Jack figured he only had himself to blame when that fist closed in on it tighter, telling him that it was impossible. Two men shacked up together? No way, no how, Jack, ya damn well know this. Stop bringing it up. There ain't no fixin' this one, we just got ta stand it the best we can.

Well, Jack figured that maybe there was time enough yet to mend at least some things, to get a glimpse of what he had been dreaming of before he grew too old or before fate decided to sink its deadly claws into him and he forever slipped past his chance to spend the remainder of his days living out his truth as the real John Charles Twist, Jr. – a man who craved the company of a strong, sturdy and handsome fella the way normal men craved the tender embrace of a sweet little wife.

And sure, maybe he wouldn't get all that he wanted out of that sweet life, and maybe if he got his way for once he would wake up to the loving gaze of a different face than the one that had permeated all his dreams those past twenty years, but in his desperation to finally get out there and live a little, that was the trade off he was willing to stand. As a natural born dreamer, Jack had always shot for the stars, but as a trained business man, he had learned how to barter. To barter meant to settle, and while one could surely say that Jack knew a thing or two about settling – his whole life being a testament to that fact – maybe this time around he could settle for just a little bit more.

Yeah, maybe he couldn't fix his life up the way he wanted to with Ennis Del Mar, but maybe he could come real close to those dreams with Randall Malone. It couldn't hurt to try, at least. Especially not while he was still young and not getting any younger. So try, he would. All he needed was a little more time with Randall, and a lot more distance from Ennis. Try twenty years worth a distance, he'd thought, bitter and resentful.

Later on that day, Jack went to the post office, bought a postcard with the picture of a flat Texas field on the back, and wrote in his looping childish scrawl two simple words:

Fuck off.

With that he addressed it to one Ennis Del Mar up in Riverton, Wyoming, paid the 20 cents for postage, and thanked the counter woman with a sweet smile before pushing out the door and taking his leave.

Jack almost would have felt guilty about writing down such harsh words, ones likely to offend any prying eyes unfortunate enough to fall upon them, but he couldn't feel too bad about it. It wasn't like Ennis had anyone else around at home who would be reading through his mail anyways.

#brokeback mountain #jack twist #ennis del mar #i know. i know. i know. i know.#my writing #still brokeback posting

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saintheartwing · 3 years

Text

Breaking Dawn, Pt. 2: Rage of the Forgotten Ones

Author's Note:

Regrettably, this time, I'm not accepting OCs for the story. Though you may spy a cameo here and there for certain...persons. ;)

Anyhow, on with the tale! And feel free to tell me what you like and dislike about it. :D

BREAKING DAWN, PART TWO RAGE OF THE FORGOTTEN ONES

If you're reading this, then again...thanks. I'm glad somebody bothered to check out my blog. I'm surprised you're checking it now, though. Shouldn't you be more concerned with the fact that hundreds of planet Earths are floating around in the sky above, defying all physics? Even the average ignorant idiot can tell: something is seriously wrong.

And I know you want to know how this happened. Maybe you heard about me. Remembered I was the "crazy kid" for a long time, that I had all of these "insane" theories about aliens and the supernatural, and now that this is happening, well, you turn to me for answers. I've got answers, alright...I've got answers.

It all ties back...to him. To an alien named Zim.

His species is called the Irken race. They're like reptile-esque bugs. Their bodies are organic shells, their REAL selves are attached to their backs in robotic backpacks called "PAKS'. They're generally proud, vain, narcissistic, selfish, dangerous, in a word...evil. I knew from the moment Zim entered my classroom in his pathetic disguise that fooled everyone but me that he was bad news, I swore to expose him.

But something happened over the years. Zim and I began to...

Well...

...I can't call it friendship. I really can't. It's like...we were rivals. And we always wanted to stay that way. To outdo each other. It was a "same time next week" kind of deal we had: he'd try to make some world-enslaving or world-destroying plot...I'd stop him. It was a great game we played. And I think we began to develop...well...a kind of respect...a kind of trust. We kinda mellowed, in a sense. Heck, we even applied to the same colleges. I guess that my life fell into a rhythm I intended to ride for the rest of my life.

...but before all that happened, there was...a period that I think back on with shame. It was kind of like the turning point. When we looked back on what we did, something changed in us. I think we kinda were forced to change.

See...I wasn't the only one who knew Zim was an alien. My sister knew, but she didn't really care much. Zim had another Irken living at his home, named Skoodge, but Skoodge wasn't really too much of a threat. He wasn't actually too bad, as far as Irkens went. But I did tell my classmate Gretchen about Zim, and I think she wanted to believe me.

And then there was Nick.

Nice kid from down south. Slightly annoying accent. Little bit dumb. Okay, maybe more than a little bit.

But friendly. Helpful. And Zim had experimented on him before. Made him REAAAALLY happy with this strange device he stuck in his head. Twice. I asked him for help, knowing he knew the truth.

I TRIED to train him. I really did. I tried to help him get smart and savvy the way I was. We planned...we calculated...a few missions went by, we did well.

He wasn't my friend, but...but he was a good comrade. Yes...a comrade. And that day, on March 23rd, six years ago...Zim did the worst thing he'd ever done.

And he did it to Nick.

...I own that. Because he was my soldier. My comrade.

...my fault.

I don't know if he...remembers it all. I kept wondering "Was he afraid? Was he begging for me to save him in his head? Was he crying all the while as Zim..."

Now I know how he felt. I'm feeling that way too. Because someone showed up at our front door. They forced a very dangerous, very powerful ring on me. A ring that can turn the imagination into reality. Chosen for me because I can overcome great fear.

And yet...

All I want to do now...

Is SCREAM.

At first...it was a spiritual experience. Exhilarating. Almost transcendental. He felt invincible. He felt...like he could face anything. Anyone. Dib Membrane wasn't afraid of anything or anyone, and he knew, in that first few moments he KNEW he could have taken on the entire world and WON. For those first few moments...the ring upon his finger showed him a world just in front of his fingertips, a world of potential.

And then...then it was not HIS will that controlled the power. It felt like he was being tugged around by slimy strings, his flesh was not his own...he was lost in his own spirit...and he knew what was at fault.

"Get this thing OFF me!" Dib yelled out, yanking on the white ring on his finger as best he could, gasping as the Irken with the golden eyes looked on in pitiless amusement. Two sets of antennae, one teal, one black slightly raised in amusement with gloved hands and a blue vest across his chest, with dark blue pants and boots of black...black to match the gloves...black to match his heart. "GET IT OFF!"

"It's no use." The Irken with the golden eyes said, waving his hand in the air. "I was the first one to touch the Exemplar Ring you wear on your hand. It might be powered by your Will, it might think you're using it, but really...it's MY will that matters now. It might as well be on my hand. And you're going to do everything I tell you to do. You won't have a choice." The Irken said.

Dib's sister bellowed angrily, punching the ground below and seething, frothing at the mouth. Unlike Dib, who was dressed in a fine outfit of black and green, she was all red and black, with a form that looked vaguely machine-like in its design, a fury dripping off her facial features as the Irken snapped his fingers and she panted slightly, slowly calming down.

"You...fix us...NOW." Dib snarled angrily, summoning up all his willpower, leveling the ring on his finger squarely at the Irken. "You FREAK."

"The NAME...is Zerinim Two Jookiba." The Irken with two sets of antenneas said, putting one gloved hand on his chest before growling fervently, a burning red fiery blaze of energy forming in his hands, sizzling like he was holding a miniature sun in his palms. "But don't call me "Two" like my closest loved ones do. Call me...MASTER."

He immediately launched the wave of energy squarely at Dib and Gaz, knocking them to the ground, Gaz taking a blow to the head, unconsciousness settling in as Dib felt the thing's grip on him relaxing, and now the many sledgehammers he kept imagining should be beating into this thing actually manifested in a bright green glow, energy constructs that struck at Two over and over as Dib kept the manifestation up, intent on one thing and one thing alone...

MAKING...HIM...PAY.

"I'm gonna make you sorry you ever came to my planet!" Dib yelled out, stepping closer and closer to Two as the Irken held his gloved hands forth, a sonic blast of red construct energy knocking Dib back as Two snapped his fingers, a surge of power rising from his form as a bow popped into his gloved hands. Dib jumped back up, quickly firing off blasts of energy from his ring like a cowboy desperately firing his pistols at an oncoming posse, but Two calmly stood still, the blasts missing him as he notched an arrow of burning red.

It launched through the air, impaling Dib through his left side and he screeched in pain, falling to the ground as his grip on his body faded, and he swam in and out of consciousness, struggling to stay awake, Two chuckling coldly as he approached the human and his sister.

"Ahhhhh, I NEEDED that. I'm in a such good mood right now...now you go home and power down and get some rest. Dream peacefully...it'll be the last happy sleep you ever have, I'm afraid." The Irken said, kneeling by Dib and lifting his head with one claw. It wasn't a mocking tone...it just said it. A statement of fact. Nothing personal. "You've got a busy day tomorrow, after all." He added with a slight smile, clapping his hands as Dib and Gaz found themselves returning to their normal clothes, getting back up and returning inside the house of their own accord, the will of their master, the being named Two, echoing in their minds...

Mercifully, Dib could feel his wounds healing. But this was cold comfort. All Dib could think about...was what this thing was going to do the world he loved.

...

...as Dib rested in his bed, snuggling up beneath the covers, shivering slightly, he grit his teeth and grounded them together. He was mad. He was furious. He couldn't even fall asleep without feeling like that...that thingwith the double set of antennas was watching him. It had loosed it's control over them...just barely. It was allowing them to rest, but that was cold comfort considering Dib knew the thing would be up to no good.

What would it do to his world? What would it make himdo to his world? What would it make him do to the people he loved?

Simply trying to imagine talking to his father or anybody else about what had happened was giving him a headache...no doubt another part of that being, "Two", inflicting his will on him. What would happen if he actually tried to tell his father what had occurred, get him to simply analyze the ring that he was unable to take off? Would it be some "Battle Royale" kind of deal? Would a collar manifest around his neck and take his head off?

Gaz. What was Gaz thinking, Dib wondered as his eyelids slowly beginning to drop, genuine sleep mercifully setting in. Was she scared? Was she indignant about being used? Or was she just...angry?

Well, as it turned out, Gaz was none of those things. She had long since fallen deep asleep to dream of a world that shaped and shifted by her will, brought to life by a giant red pen, floating upon a rubber piggy and laughed giddily at the new world she was making. She liked seeing things in red...yes, yes, she wanted to paint everything in red...

She knew this power would help her do it. She was aware it was bringing out her most violent desires and attitudes. But she knew she could channel it. She just had to wait for her chance.

She could take control of this. She could prove stronger than the thing on her finger.

"That idiot thinks he has me. But I've beaten worse things before." Her dream-self said as she raised a chainsaw high, cutting through a swath of imaginary Twos. "AND YOU'LL FALL, JUST LIKE THE REST OF THEM!"

...

..."Oh great. Two is here. Help me put my clothes back on."

"Why did you ask me to bring HER along? I could understand Lilo, but…"

"I want her to understand what we're…willing to do to break her. Lilo, do you know HOW the Minor Arcana was formed? How the…application process is undertaken?"

"..."

"Well, in exchange for very, VERY large amounts of power and the ability to remain eternally young…you've got to kill family. Close family. One member, to be precise."

"Samael approached me and told me that if I wanted into the Minor Arcana…if I wanted the ability to be immune to control and to control reality, I'd have to kill a family member."

"No, please tell me you didn't…didn't kill them…Kila, Zim, you…you didn't?"

"No, of course I couldn't, I…I love my parents. I…I chose Green, my sister from the past."

"If Kila and Zim ARE your parents, the ones I know so well, then they would have been horrified at the idea of you working for the person who made them suffer so much! They wouldn't have raised you to be so cruel!"

"They didn't raise me to be cruel, but we never could stay in one place long…do you know how some kids move around city after city, state after state, never really making friends, or worse, constantly leaving the friends they DO have? For me…it was TEN TIMES WORSE. I had to move from world to world and whenever we got REMOTELY settled into the hotel or other temporarily dwelling, we had to leave! Working for Samael meant he wouldn't hunt my parents anymore and…It's not like I know Green. She's my sister and I understand mentally that the whole thing is…sad."

"..."

"I OUGHT to know her. I should have spent my childhood with my big sister being there, we should have blown stuff up in the backyard together or played gorka-ball or "Toss the GIR"…we should have been siblings but…but we weren't. Aren't. It IS sad, but…I just don't really know her, and so I don't have many qualms about killing her, though MIYU had NO qualms in killing MALIK! And to get to her mother, she killed her dad too!"

"Azazel has yet to kill Nick, his dear, beloved Grandfather. So perhaps he'll kill his originator instead, he was so close to Nick, In his reality, his "Pee-Paw" was so PROUD of him…he even gave him his-"

"..."

"As for Frequency, lobotomizing Sari, whom he cared for greatly, was his act. Samael was happy to allow him to do the act, it allowed Miyu to replace Sari, who had refused to kill her parents and had taken Samael's gift of immortality. Such a pity…she would have gained Miyu's incomparable battle skills but instead she lost most of her brain."

"And now let us come to the point. You are not going to be rescued. You are going to be tortured here by us, one at a time, and when TWO finishes with you, I…will begin."

"Question: Who shall start?"

"I'll be the first...my power will be good for torturing you-"

With that, Dib awoke from the strange dream. It had felt real. FAR too real. And that person...Two. It had definitely been him. What was going on? Were Two's memories of the past somehow crisscrossing with his slave's head? Possible, he supposed. The Irken could control him from his head, but that meant his mind was open, at least when asleep, to Dib's own...

How strange...

"How odd..." Dib mumbled as he scratched his head, sweeping his legs out of his bed and onto the floor as he made his way to his bureau to get his usual attire out. Dark jacket? Check. Blue t-shirt with a "Meh" face on it? Check. Dark pants? Also check. Glasses...shoes...belt for said pants...check, check, check-

"...is the ring still on my finger?" Dib mumbled, looking down at his hand.

Check.

"...crap." He muttered. "You JERK." He growled, turning his head to look out the window at a cheerily grinning Two, who pushed the window open, letting in the sunshine to the dark blue walls of Dib's cluttered-up bedroom.

"Nice place, it really is...except for the smell." Two admitted as he looked around the bedroom. Indeed, over the years Dib had gotten slightly more advanced equipment from his father for birthday presents...yes, Birthday. Dib's father refused to celebrate Christmas due to his undying hatred of Santa Claus, so he always wasted that day searching for signs of Santa. And beating up Santa's Helpers in the street.

Yeah, it was weird.

A sophisticated computer system on a desk with what appeared to be three dozen drawers, many of them stuffed full of papers on Bigfeet, ghosts and aliens...a pile of laundry in the corner, all dark clothes, blue t-shirts...and several dozen paranormal posters littered the walls, including one of a flying saucer. And not just ANY flying saucer. "Is that from the X-Files series?" Two found himself asking, an intrigued expression coming to his features.

"Yes, the original one. I got it off of Ebay. Cost me two month's allowance too." Dib added, not taking his eyes off the alien scumbag. He wanted to jump through the air and do a karate kick to his head, hey, years of fighting with Zim meant he'd picked up a couple of tricks. But no, no, it was like he was rooted to the spot, and he knew EXACTLY why.

He tried to yank the ring off anew...hopeless. Two chuckled slightly as he snapped his fingers. "I used to watch the show when I was younger. Ahhhh, memories. Moving from dimension to dimension it's still nice to see that the more things change, the more they stay the same. Wait until I tell you about the second movie."

"Second movie?" Dib remarked, blinking stupidly.

"Oh, right, you don't know. Guess this world will never see it once I'm...well..." He chuckled coldly. "Once WE'RE finished. Go on, my little puppet. Eat breakfast. Say goodbye to your father with your sister. Then we begin, and I think I'll start by doing you a favor, and doing what all children dream of doing at one point or another...burning down your school."

"Why would you want to do that?" Dib growled angrily, fingers clenching almost like claws, eyes alit with fury. "What could you POSSIBLY gain from-"

"Do I look like a Bond Villain, my boy? I'm not TELLING you." The Irken chuckled. "But I'm in a good mood, so being the nice person I am, here's the deal. You get until Lunch Period's over. Then I'll take full control...and have you and your sister burn down the school and everyone and everything in it."

The Irken was suddenly up in Dib's face, smiling coldly, one hand gripping his chin, the other tapping Dib's ring. "You have until then to convince the others to get out, and don't bother trying to use your ring to convince them, I'll put it under a lock that won't open until it is finally time to BURN, baby, BURN." The Irken laughed. "Hey, you've been failing to get your classmates to listen for years. Maybe today's the day they'll finally listen!"

"You don't have to do this." Dib said, trying another tack, remembering the dream. Normally he wouldn't EVER negotiate with an alien, not even try, but...this was different. "You don't need to hurt anyone."

"But I do." Two whispered, raising his gloved claws up and clenching them. "...I DO."

Letting off cold-hearted laughter, the Irken jumped back out of the window, strolling off. Dib cursed under his breath. This was one of the few times an alien was out in the open! NO disguise! Why, WHY was nobody outside? Or LOOKING outside? What had their attention? Were they all still ASLEEP?

"So then he shot her, it was weird." The newest arrival on the "Okrah" show said to the titular host, Gaz munching on some cereal as the tall and weirdly surreal Prof. Membrane adjusted the goggles over his eyes, looking at the screen.

"This PULP is what the people are interested in?" He inquired.

"Yeeeeep." Gaz said nonchalantly through a mouthful of "Choco Frosted Sugar Bombs".

"And it's on every morning from 8 to 9? Without fail?"

"Yeeeeeeeeep."

"...what next, dancing panda bears?" Prof. Membrane mused sarcastically, rolling his eyes as he poured himself some coffee. He was getting better at this, he TRIED to be there during the day for breakfast if nothing else. And to think, it only took him a little over 10 years to actually start being somewhat of a good father figure.

"Mornin', Dad." Dib said, entering the kitchen and going to the fridge before shrinking away. Every time he tried to open the fridge, weird things happened. Last time he was SURE he'd heard a sneeze, and the mayonnaise had started yelling "The ketchup did it! The ketchup!" And ANOTHER time his father had left an experiment in there. Something had been living in the fridge.

"...is...the thing still in there?" Dib asked Prof. Membrane, inching away from the fridge and reaching for the knife drawer by the sink, pulling out a large carving knife as Gaz watched with interest.

"No, I'm fairly certain I moved him to the freezer." Prof. Membrane said, shaking his head back and forth. Smiling in relief, Dib wiped his brow and opened up the fridge...and was then forced to hack back several dozen tentacles before slamming the fridge shut. "Or maybe I forgot. Who keeps track?" Prof. Membrane added a moment later, putting a gloved finger to where his lip might have been...it was hard to tell, the white labcoat that he wore had a loooong collar that reached up high. You couldn't even see his nose!

"I'll just make some toast."

"SUPER-Toast?" Prof. Membrane asked expectantly.

"...er, I was thinking cinna-" Dib began to say, before he saw his father's slowly drooping expression. "SUPER-Cinnamon Toast." He quickly changed his mind, nodding enthusiastically.

"EXCELLENT choice, my son!" Prof. Membrane agreed, clapping Dib on the shoulder and moving to the cupboard to get the cinnamon sugar for his boy. "I can only spare 110 more seconds but I'd be HAPPY to get your cinnamon toast started!"

"...thanks, Dad." Dib said quietly. "I...I really appreciate it. And...appreciate you." He murmured.

"What will that thing make me do to the ones I love?"He thought sadly to himself, sitting in the chair next to Gaz as she quietly looked over at him, a faint flicker of genuine regret passing over her face for an instant.

...

...the Beautiful Angel clutched his mother's paw, looking down at her closed eyes. She looked so...worn and tired. So sad...so lost...so forgotten. She was a sad little doll that had been tossed into a closet to be forgotten about. She lay there in the ornately-draped bed inside of the crystalline palace that hovered high above the clouds, hidden from all sight not by ignorance on behalf of humanity, but by carefully-constructed machinations, creations of Zerinim Two, and of the robot that calmly watched, her face solemn before she turned her red-helmed head away from the sight of her beloved kneeling by his dying mother.

"C'mon...just a few more days, momma." He whispered, his golden/amber eyes gazing down upon his beloved mother. "...just a few more days and maybe we can end all of this...get our world back...and bring all of us back to normal."

"Is she...any better? Any worse?"

The Angel looked up. Zerinim Two's face was normally a window...behind his eyes you could tell he was barely suppressing a furious rage within. Now that window was cracked, but not showing rage...but deep, deep concern and sadness...

Personal loss...one of the greatest causes of rage in the world.

"No. And...and I've been talking with her and...she kept asking about the plan." The Angel went on, sighing as he stood up, brushing his thick slightly-light-brown locks of hair back. "You know that this base Earth is very...unstable. It's got the seeds of potential for all the other stories, but if this plan works, I'm worried what'll happen to the other-"

"Who GIVES a rat's ass?" Two snapped angrily, cutting his hand in the air to shut him up. "Azzy, these people are awful. AW-FUL. I might have been petty and selfish but when it came down to it, I ALWAYS put doing what was right for the ones I loved and for the world I loved at the forefront! Do you think ANY of the so-called "cornerstones" of this Base Earth would?"

"...I don't know." The Beautiful Angel admitted softly, honestly. "...I'd like to believe that some of them would."

"I'm sorry that "some of them" isn't enough." Two spoke quietly, folding his arms. "You know...I saw into Dib's mind when I controlled him. He has a family. He has a father. He has a sister. And his life's been slowly getting better for the past five years. Zim getting more considerate, Gaz becoming more tolerant, his father's actually eating BREAKFAST with them!"

That made the woman in the bed chuckle slightly. "Brekkie? N-no kiddin'? Ame kef, never thought he'd actually..." Her chuckling dissolved into pained coughs as she held her paw over her mouth and Two gently patted her forehead. "I'm...sorry I'm so friggin' useless now."

"It'll be alright, maneem." Two whimpered, kneeling by his mother and kissing her paw as a blue-furred being entered, Two rubbing his eyes as he left the room. The blue-furred being took off his cap, letting his hair fall down as he nervously chewed his lip, gazing at his aunt.

"...are we really gonna go through with this? I want the world back but..." He sighed. "...what he's making Dib do isn't...it isn't right."

"I want you to have this." The Beautiful Angel said, giving the blue-furred bounty hunter a pad of paper he had in a pack slung around his shoulder. "It's notes that mother took. I've read it five dozen times..." He trailed off, taking his mother's paw again.

The blue-furred being chewed his lip again, walking out of the room as he went to stand on a balcony, reading the journal as the robot stepped out on the balcony to join him.

"I shall be meeting with MY personal inductees today." She said in her emotionless tone, holding up the rings she would be using. "They shall join my Corps and I will then bring the two up here so that they may understand why we do what we do. I think he would go along with it anyway...a chance to destroy this world? Have "fun"? How could he say "no"?"

"Will you bother to tell him that once enough of this world's been destroyed by the Cornerstones, he'll get folded into the historical fabric?" The bounty hunter wanted to know.

"That's on a "need-to-know" basis." The robot said, a flicker of amusement passing over her metallic features as she sauntered back into the crystalline palace, leaving the bounty hunter alone on the balcony as he reached into his pocket, pulling out two small rings of his own. One was shining slightly, a chosen partner found, but the other...it's light was dull.

"...why isn't it lit up? What's it missing? WHO is it missing? I might have been the first to get ahold of these, but...can't do this alone..." He murmured, putting them back in his pocket, his paw going over the journal to his side, over an entry stained by teardrops.

...

...Dib nervously gripped his pants pockets as he looked out the window of the bus, sitting in the back with Gaz as she looked over at him. "Any ideas?" She asked sarcastically.

"...I thought about offering twenty bucks to everyone to leave school right after lunch...but my allowance isn't THAT high." Dib admitted, pulling out his wallet and opening it, a tiny moth fluttering out as Gaz rolled her eyes.

"And just TELLING them the truth won't help either, will it?" She asked. "They'd never believe you. Well, they might if you tried to use that thing in front of them, but-"

"It's not working." Dib mumbled, shaking his fist angrily, the ring uselessly dull. "I'm trying and trying...but he meant it...he shut it off. And after lunch, it turns on...and I turn into a living weapon. He'll drive me like I'm a BATTLEBOT."

Gaz looked around the bus, eyes narrowing darkly. "...Dib...what's wrong with this picture?" She asked quietly, dangerously.

Dib looked up from his lap, glancing around.

"Notice anything...missing?"

Suddenly it hit him. Zim. Skoodge. Gretchen. Nick. All four of them were gone. How strange...how very, very strange...

The bus came to a stop as everyone headed into the school, their new guidance counselor greeting the children at the door. He saw Dib's clearly sullen expression and his gentle green eyes softened. A hand reached out, placed squarely on Dib's right shoulder. "Dib, is something the matter?" Mr. Thildari inquired, one eyebrow raised high over a head with perfectly-combed grey hair.

"...nothing you could help with, sir." Dib told him as Gaz headed inside. "You've been more help than the last guidance counselor I had, but...you can't help me with this."

"Aww, why not try me?" Mr. Thildari asked, moving Dib inside and sitting him down at a bench by a water fountain. "First period bell doesn't ring for a whole seven..." He checked his watch. "...six whole minutes!"

"...I need to get everyone out of the school before lunch. And I mean EVERYONE. Even that creepy janitor." Dib told the guidance counselor, leaning back in the chair, Two's smirk lingering in his mind. "Or else something terrible is going to happen."

"Dib, did a friend of yours say they're going to blow up the school?" The guidance counselor wanted to know, his darkened skin paling slightly.

Dib's eyes went wide.

There it was...

...hope. Why hadn't he seen it before? It was such a simple solution.

"Yes, yes." Dib said fervently. "...except he's not really a friend, he...he said he was going to blow the whole school sky-high after lunch period, Mr. Thildari." Dib informed the guidance counselor, shaking him by his shoulders, back and forth, back and forth.

The guidance counselor looked deep into Dib's eyes, mouth becoming a taut line as if "reading" him. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully before closing his green eyes and letting out a soft, long sigh. "I believe you." He told Dib. "I'll inform the principal and vice principal about this, and I'll have everyone escorted out of the building until the police can search the grounds."

Dib inwardly cheered for joy as Mr. Thildari stood up and headed for the staff wing, punching the air as he headed off to class. He won. He'd WON.

Or at least...so he thought.

"I should have KNOWN you'd cheat." Two muttered furiously, sitting in a tree outside of school, his fists clenching tightly as red energy swirled off his body like sparks off a fire as his own ring swirled around him like a tiny fly, buzzing, buzzing.

"Calling in help like that, you great big cheater...well, you're about to find out that I'm just as petty and immature as you, Dib Membrane..." The Irken chuckled darkly. "I suppose the saying's true. If you want something done right..."

He hopped down from the tree, making his way towards the school as red energy seeped off his body, his footprints leaving behind burning indents within the ground as he chuckled coldly.

"You have to do it yourself."

#invader zim #zim #superhero #superheroes #Dib #Gaz #Two #Zerinim #action #adventure #fanfic #fanfiction

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crackcrocs · 4 years

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DEATH WILL ONLY BE THE BEGINNING #3

3. Transformation Central

the entities of my personalities would like to come together in one voice that speaks through me, we or I call this collection of words from the mustiest corners of my brain to this note page to voice something that might come close to what I feel underneath the skin I wear. In all my unorganised words- I might even go as far as to call this a poem, titled:

‘TRANSFORMATION CENTRAL’

sub characters in my head would appreciate if this could be visualised & understood through as deep a lens as humanly possible. even I confuse myself so if you can decode or relate to any of this, wonderful. If not, I’m locked in my own mind, swallowed the keys to my soul.

SIMILARITIES & INTERCONNECTEDNESS BETWEEN HUMAN & PLANT CONSCIOUSNESS EXIST! if you look closely at my nose freckles you’ll see the resemblance of the constellations above. if you look at the human veins & the layout of a tree, this is further proof.

{VISUALS THROUGH A SEPIA WINDOW STARING @ THE AUTUMN LEAFS; IMAGINING THE SEEDS UNDERNEATH, THROUGH NUMB ROOT VESSELS THAT PERMEATE THROUGH EVERY MEMBRANE OF MY EXTERNAL TO INTERNAL ENVIRONMENT}

~FEATURING THE VICIOUS CYCLE OF DEPRESSION & PERFECTIONISM.

here goes:

What is this part of my mind ?

If you want; delve inside-

I may look sweet like Alice,

but underneath it all

I deteste looking in the mirror

-cos I see the mad hatter.

my inner child needs a platter-

full of care not distortion & abuse pls.

less fibbin would’ve been a breeze.

now following the dead fish in the stream!

HOW on EARTH do I fit with the cod & the Haddock?

I’m the rainbow fish- beat & battered.

dim my own light cos I’m too afraid to shine.

alone.

thieves tried to steal my shiny scales.

I sat and watched them grow.

In the sea realm they were mean gargantuan selfish whales, with poisonous shark fangs & alligator tails. scorpion hands. (gremlins)

and still they make me feel like the alien-

I cant take it.

Make it make sense ?

I can’t.

controller in my hand-

Off balance stance.

anxiously I move round like a wobbly jelly.

where’s the button to balance my chi & shut out the ego ?

the teLLIE telling lies to our vision!

change the channel aura terracotta orange- daily dosage of vitamin D & C.

catch me sun gazing by the sea

head buzzin like a bee.

speaking from a dusty box

stuck on top of a forbidden shelf

cos I dunno how else.

I’m tryna delve deep but forgot how to dive

How can i visualise? scenery foggy-

the establishment man with the glue gun got me xD

inner monk burning but at peace

Cos I refuse to believe

If the only way is the American dream

Interconnected; like the frog in science -let’s dissect it!

down to every floating atom spirit neighbouring your door

subcategories & divisions, it’s more!

than the rich and the poor -prism that’s been built

do we all feel like a performance monkey on stilts?

will my data be extracted & used to mould a robots personality some day?

well obviously not.

does the price of our lives all amount down to slave ways?

LABOUR YAY!

but morals & values it seems we’ve forgot.

sO If i don’t speak its cos I’m lost.

or maybe i’m enlightened-

Standing at the edge of the porch;

watching TRYING to understand how the flowers grow.

questioning eVERYTHING man made!

I’ve stepped out of the perfect picture frame

I can see the coal pollute the sky

I need to hop on the train-

but I’m comfortable

Sunset to sunrise statue standing still.

what’s the ingredients to life’s yucky pie?

I’ve exceeded mental lotteries.

Sanity n universal peace would be a trophy.

TIL then I’ll be crafting & shaping a solid pottery reality,

with a few pence, gum, and a bandana of belongings tied to stick.

thinking one day I’ll be laying the bricks

& building a kingdom of bliss.

guess for now I’ll use the intricate delicate materials in my tool box- that’s all I’ve got.

might have a long way- maybe worth a shot.

I observe, cruisin in the sky.

dunno why..

I jus look @ the hills.

Only time & history reveals.

no thanks mr men-

I don’t want your prescription pills.

there’s enough propaganda as it is.

I won’t jump on the merry go round-

til my core trusts & envisions we’ll actually feel safe!

I don’t want to take part in this faux fur, sweet nothings & a jack in a box punching blur, so called future.

oh and genuinely thanks quarantine-for once again, I can hear bird sounds!

guess this is me tryna speak out loud!!!...

it’s not thrilling

system time killing everything-

mother nature’s oxygen

everything is nauseating

clock ticking, I better start creating.

they should write a book on how to be free when the system set us up to believe that we’re tied to the cut down trees that gives them a currency of greed that they breed.

If blindfolded, I don’t wanna eat what they feed.

Whilst they profit of us -tell us smile and the bandits don’t wanna see us happy.

they’re too busy robbing all our hoods.

In exchange for the silence, they’ve granted us with a 21’st century fashion garment of a slave muzzle! labelled conform.

More delusion to add to the already desensitised norm.

zootonic diseases, welcome covid 19 to your plastic kiddy tea party!- apologies for questioning your motive!

Been handed too many hot plates with a post it note saying HOLD THIS.

we’ll be okay just hush.

Same Shan message told to every generational seed.

If we don’t TRY overpower-

we’ll never succeed!

it’s getting even more scary.

Artificial intelligence.

Societal negligence..

my canvas isn’t clear-dunno am I schizo ?

finger painting, cos it makes more sense.

struggling to blend.

borderline conspiracist pretending to be fine;

moving the goal post, hovering above the race line.

who made the chalk? who set the lanes?

I wanna know it all, maybe¿ far past insane.

I can fit all I need in the palm of my hand,

Maybe even less! cut a finger off not sure it’ll even add stress.

hi from personality Peter, even sober- always away with the fairies.

Pass the pixie dust, I’m in a rush

Found shelter in the comfort of pan physicists timer, no not the one on your phone!

Ring ring, skeptical! is it my demon or my mommy on the phone?

I’m stuck in the airspace of an infinite glass filled with beach particles trying to form myself standing up still attempting not to slip through the hands of my very own discovery.

time is running out & ill go when I go.

I’m sitting inside the fly trap -

stardust, chakras can you feel the sensation colors like a starburst.

deep emotion is a curse.

still entrapped in the sand dune of nothingness-

flipping a domino monopoly of solidified thoughts as I sway with the wind.

I’m the trapped sandbox in the playground & the slipping sand in my own hands.

Inhale chronic but I wanna enter the quiet realm of white noise

-color of a wife beater vest, calmer than the ease in ignorance of a red neck.

sadomasochistic, messes.

but oblivion, seems like less stress.

Unfortunately I can see, with all eyes

empathetic paralysis, gets me vexed.

Punching truth into the core of your chest!

It’s not funny, neither is the one on the receiving end..

My limbs are numb

& im done playing octopus alchemy.

I want minimalism & life can be simple,

Evil entities have made it hard.

Maybe I’ve got stars above my head like an old cartoon character.

But I can’t make it make sense, are they out to get me. worse all of us? Or have I bottled myself tryna re mesh the broken shards,

I feel glued to the floor cos there’s a pretty price to pay if you want more.

I see life through a different lense, maybe born downside up, Benjamin button I came out the back door-

Outside looking in, digesting confusion.

Is to be a product of environment a sin?

rummage through my messy brain.

personalities sardine packed in this tin

I’m the wizard of my mania

Scaring & attracting the black crows-

they’re my friends.

Sometimes still a cowardly lion

Roaring pain & true riddles at the wrenching wicked witch posse of the west.

will my voice ever be loud enough to shed light wit my words and grate the sweet zest

In to the cake i’m baking?

Probably not.

Got more thoughts than the autumn leaves collected by the garden rake. alone.

gathering & storing the pains of yesterday.

sometimes I stay in line

Other times in my head Im on my hands juggling out of time.

but I really don’t mind if I lose or win.

we all have a pace

I jus don’t want the 1% to win the race.

It’s unfair!

Humanity does anyone care ??

Half lady

half fairy

Good MOOrning-

from my anagrams.

no I’m not a cow.

twister fidget spinner brain in the flesh-

form of expression this time around lyrics.

feel I’m jus a silly rubix

& still mourning

I don’t like dairy

pass the oat milk.

Are you aware the industry are sabotaging our diets?

we want peace!

the powerful elite-

perceive & deceive

the scene they want us to be.

chuck the narcissistic psychopathic pie back in our face-

every time we almost found & addressed the Programme & Control man in the maze.

evil & extroverted- he said that the anarchists have to be the cause of riots.

working isn’t class. I said let’s switch roles- he said pass.

It’s piss! Who’s got the bomb & the guns?

Who got the land? off wit OUR heads 4 fun!

it’s pure scary.

Pharmaceutics handshake.

with the cooked up suppliers, also crooked wack liars.

I’d rather shot a gallon of bloody blubbery infused slaughter house milk

If it meant we didn’t use cocoons for silk.

why not add a drizzle of bleach to the concoction & maybe that’s a reach.

every time I guzzle fakeness, it taste peak.

I want real fruit, what next-

a seedless peach ???

what’s the difference between a weirdo & a freak?

layers & levels to the shit.

Magnifying tapping the window of society, I’ll be puffing green til I get to the land of Oz.

sponge soaked soaking up emotions

Suffocated by deduction of care in life

feel entrapped in this paradigm

what am I thinking ?

got the verbs & a cuppa tea

It’s mixed with torment & desire to be free.

I’d rather be awake than asleep

When I get too comfy I feel weak

Demons they reap

underneath

rip the seems as I bleed

Concrete

Solid

Emotions

Is all you’re getting

It’s all sad scenes in the imagery I’m setting

people need care we seem to be forgetting

why are we in debt wit

a posse of clowns

pay the price so we can get a frown

here’s some seratonin

quit ya moaning

life is all sound

aw yeh¿ if you’re not an over thinker!

product of environment- Sirius flickers

theyve done a ritual like it’s Wicca

now here’s your gold sticker..

for managing to co operate.

In this world fuelled off of evil n hate

waking ups a bloody disgrace

I am not amazed.

Man I love my fam n my friends

Just hate this part of my brain that feels the need to play pretend

sometimes I feel insane

but I’m calm

need to escape so I don’t do harm

Gold lioness in the sky by the sea

with puff the magic dragon

fire out my mouth, fuel helps me breathe

I will shine bright

Promise imma be alright

even tho I’m not sure why

I function like this

I wanna be myself

It’s just hard to find the comfortability

To feel happy and pretty

Lay me down on a bed of roses

Ring around sing about overdose emotions

Sorry dunno how to communicate

Heads in a constant debate

Should I go or should I stay

My head clashes

Burnin the next ciggy as my thoughts become ashes.

#LCZABIBU #deathwillonlybethebeginning

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otonymous · 5 years

Text

Moving Violation (MLQC Shaw - NSFW)

Description: Public transportation gets a lot more exciting when a gorgeous stranger decides to give you a hand 😉 Warnings: NSFW/18+: Explicit/graphic language — reader discretion is advised. SPOILER for chapter 17-1 only. Trigger warning(s): public fingering Word Count: 1698 words (~8 mins of shameless smut) AO3: read here Author’s Notes: This story contains SPOILERS for chapter 17-1 ONLY. If you don’t want to be spoiled at all, now would be a good time to stop reading 😆

As soon as this guy made an appearance in the game, you know I had to write for him. Although I don’t even know his name, I DO know he’s hot AF LOL. The events in this story are based on chapter 17-1; I just added my own smutty take on things. Please note the potential trigger warning in the tags above, and happy reading! 🥰

Nb) Lyrics taken from Green Day's "Holiday" are marked with an asterisk. (song written by Michael Pritchard / Frank Wright / Billie Joe Armstrong. © Warner Chappell Music, Inc)

All characters & Mr Love: Queen’s Choice owned by Elex

⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️

Clang.

The metal links of a wallet chain hit the steel trim of the seat beside yours, the sound so jarring it immediately pulled you from your thoughts. Turning your gaze from the window, your senses are assailed:

Hair that fell in devil-may-care directions over features all at once delicate and masculine — lavender grey, like the colour of a gathering storm, accentuated with silver like streaks of lightning blazing across an unsettled sky.

Metal studs embellishing a black leather jacket brushing against your arm, cool and sharp even through the sleeve of your cardigan, making you press closer to the side of the bus on instinct.

A hint of cinnamon, spicy and sweet each time the bubble in his mouth deflated with an audible pop, only to reemerge after a few subtle movements of a defined jaw and the push of his tongue through a thin, pink membrane.

And although the vehicle lurched forward each time the lead-footed driver stepped on the gas, the young man managed to keep his skateboard balanced against the back of the seat in front, the underside of its deck covered in a dizzying array of colourful but faded decals. Worn and treasured, like the mp4 player he suddenly produced from the pocket of his jacket, elegantly long digits in fingerless leather gloves fiddling with dials whose details had rubbed off long ago.

The stranger leans back in his seat, long legs spreading wide until one brushes the hem of your skirt…waves of heat emanating from the skin of his knee beneath ripped denim to send tingles up the bare flesh of your thigh.

Brows furrowed, you stare sharply in his direction from the corner of your eye. You had done your best to ignore that twinge of annoyance when he first chose to sit next to you on an otherwise empty bus. Brushed it off when it grew with the knock of his shoulder into yours. But the continued rubbing of his knee against your thigh — each bump of the rough ride sending it higher up your leg — was something you found unsettling. And stimulating.

Nonplussed by your reaction to the invasion of personal space, the stranger fits buds into ears boasting several piercings each, thumb tapping the scratched up player until all you could hear was the tinny refrain of Green Day rocking at insanely high volume over his headphones:

“I beg to dream and differ from the hollow lies This is the dawning of the rest of our lives On holiday…”*

Suddenly, perfect eyebrows arch over amber eyes that train on yours to transform your annoyance into surprise. He leisurely looks you up and down, tongue sweeping over the edges of white teeth as he does…slow, as if considering some complicated calculation. Then, as the corners of his lips pull up into a devastatingly handsome smirk, you are similarly devastated to find yourself incredibly turned on by a man you knew absolutely nothing about.

Removing an earbud, the beautiful stranger slides up even closer to whisper in your ear, “Wanna listen?”

His voice is deep and playful, the heat of his breath electric on your skin and charged with an eroticism that effectively shuts down any protests you may have had. So you let him carefully position the bud in your ear, feeling goosebumps bloom wherever he touched, guitar riffs accompanying fingertips that drag from your lobe to your neck, traversing your shoulder and down your arm…before finally coming to rest on the top of your thigh.

Nipples hardening beneath the lace cups of your bra, you tense at the embarrassing possibility of your arousal being on full display through the thin front of your blouse. He slides his arm around your shoulder in response, pulling you flush against his side as the undertones of that husky voice switch from teasing to a soothing coo:

“Baby, relax. Just focus on the music, yeah?”

The hand on your leg begins to move, inching up your skirt, fingers tracing circles as they caress the skin of your inner thigh — so sensitive he grinned to watch you twitch at the sensation of his nails grazing flesh as he sought the moist warmth in the space between.

Soft lips smooth across the line of your jaw, the stranger's voice dropping even lower, as if revealing some illicit secret: “Focus on how good my fingers will make you feel.”

That beautiful face nuzzles into the nape of your neck, and you feel his chest expand against your arm when he breathes in deep — his exhalation masking the gasp you failed to contain when the tip of his finger made its first brush across your clit, swollen beneath a layer of silk.

Already impossibly hot, you glance at your surroundings once more to ensure you were the only two passengers on the bus during the early morning commute. You wondered if the driver heard your shuddering pants as the young man played with your pussy over your panties, wondered if he could smell the heady musk of arousal that was surely suffusing the immediate vicinity.

Wondered if he noticed the spread of your legs from that distance in the rear view mirror, growing wider in response to the lust that glazed over amber eyes to hold you captive.

Suddenly, the stranger retracts his large hand, its absence leaving the space between your legs cool and wanting. Past the point of caring about masking your desperation, you implore the stranger with a look that dripped with need. He smirks, eyes crinkling with mischief as he winks at you before proceeding to lick his digits — pink tongue swirling about the index…middle…then ring finger in excruciatingly slow turn.

To your relief, he brings his hand down once more. But this time, your panties are roughly pulled aside before you feel those spit-moistened fingers sliding along your folds and glancing at your clit…exploring bare flesh. At first contact, you hear the breath hitch in his throat. Hear the thick arousal even he couldn’t hide behind teasing banter when he says, “Looks like I didn’t need to lube up my fingers after all. Guess this excites you more than you let on.”

You couldn’t even argue, nor did you want to. Lips parting as shaky lungs drew in much needed air, your head falls back, the black cord of your shared headphones the only thing grounding you to reality when it pulls taut against your movement. A reminder that although his fingers sent you to the heights of ecstasy with the way they plunged in and out of your pussy — almost frictionless with how turned-on you were — you still had your skirt bunched up and legs spread wide on a public bus in broad daylight, a complete stranger’s talented fingers fucking you so hard and fast your thighs trembled and your underwear became a soaking mess, absorbing slick moisture that dripped in copious amounts.

“This is the dawning of the rest of our lives...”*

The music crescendoed just as the tension in your body swelled to breaking point, the thumb rubbing circles about your clit relentless like the fingers diving deep to push you over the edge of desire.

All of a sudden, the bus lurches as the driver slams on the brakes. Momentum continuing to drive your body forward like a rag doll, the muscular arm around you tenses to keep you from smashing face first into the seat in front. But the driver’s careless technique had another unintended consequence: the young man’s fingers drove even deeper inside you at just the right angle to make you fall apart completely. Spasming within his embrace, you thought nothing of burying your face into his chest to bite at his collarbone through his shirt, trying to muffle your screams.

“Sorry about that! Everyone ok back there?" Still descending from a higher plane of bliss, the driver’s voice seems so far removed.

“Yeah man, just take it easy next time," the stranger shouts back, fingers leaving a wet trail along the inside of your thigh as he finally pulls out from your trembling body.

He makes a show of examining his fingers, slick under the warm rays of sunlight filtering in through the window behind you. But nothing compared to the heat in your cheeks when he traced his lips with the tip of his index, the shiny coat of arousal accentuating pink flesh before his tongue swept out to savour every last drop.

And as the bus pulls up to the next stop — much more smoothly this time around — the handsome stranger leans in close, removing the headphone from your ear before he says,

“Sweet, just the way I like it. Be seein’ you around."

Readjusting his earbuds, he tucks his skateboard under one arm, amber eye winking at you beneath lavender grey strands one last time before he exits, the sound of his skateboard hitting the pavement the last thing you hear before the pneumatic doors shut and you slump back in your seat.

You didn’t even know his name.

⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️

Guess what? We STILL don’t know his name in the English server LOL! As always, thanks for reading and check out more of my work here! 📚

#mlqc #mr love queen's choice #love and producer #MLQC ling xiao #Ling Xiao #凌肖 #mlqc fanfic #mlqc fic #mlqc smut #mr love queen's choice smut #fanfiction #my writing #elex #mlqc shaw #mr love dream date

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