#and Zib is proof of that

[random-iz-stuff]

Headcanon/analysis thing:

[This is a continuation of this other post I made about the Zimvoid, more specifically about how all the top 100 Zim’s lied about what makes them unique.]

I was thinking about that headcanon I made and I realized just what that headcanon means for Number 2. (Plus now I have more headcanons for him)

Number 2 is the Ultimate Zim, and he’s a Zim that goes against everything our Zim stands for. Number 2 is to Zim what Zib is to Dib.

Zim has a strong moral code. He refuses to kill his rivals in an unfair fight and will spare them when they won’t do the same to him. Zim goes easy on Dib and went out of his way to spare Tak at the end of their dogfight in Tak: The Hideous New Girl. Zim also refuses to outright steal technology from others, as that goes against Irken law regarding patents and inventions and Zim, as a former scientist and inventor, strictly upholds said laws. This moral code that Zim has overrides the need for efficiency and perfection that Irkens are expected to have.

All Zims have this moral code, as it’s pretty much a part of them. Without that moral code, they just aren’t Zim.

But Number 2 doesn’t have this moral code. He abandoned it in favour of traditional irken efficiency, and it’s a terrifying thing to behold.

In that dogfight against Tak, it played out exactly the same as normal. Dogfight, Tak can’t shake Zim off her tail no matter what she tries, Mimi malfunctions, Tak loses control over her ship. But where all the other Zims rammed Tak into that lava bubble to slow her spinning and give her a safe chance to eject, Number 2 took advantage of Tak’s situation and shot her while she was defenceless, killing her.

This act is already disgusting to any other Zim, as it goes against their own moral code by not only killing a rival that they hold some respect towards, but doing it when they are in no position to fight back or even defend themselves. It puts simple efficiency above the all important moral code, and that’s an act that no Zim would preform.

But it gets worse. Number 2 then proceeded to take Tak’s technology, including her ship, her SIR and her holographic technology, and used it for his own gain, using Tak’s ship to upgrade his Voot, combining Mimi and Gir and installing Tak’s holographic disguise generator into himself.

This goes against Zim’s own moral code in several more ways, disrespecting Tak on top of killing her in an unfair manner and more importantly, breaking the Irken patent laws that Zim strictly upholds as Tak’s technology, especially the holographic technology found in Mimi, Tak’s ship and Tak herself, isn’t patented, meaning that by claiming it as his own in this way, Number 2 broke Irken patent laws several times over, once for each piece of technology claimed. Plus the act of messing with Gir in such a way is a crime all on it’s own in Zim’s eyes. Not to mention defacing his Voot with stolen technology and adding upgrades to it that make it no longer a vintage Voot Cruiser, with Voot parts replaced by the parts of a Spittle Runner along with whatever else Tak used when making her ship. Once again, Number 2 goes against every other Zim’s moral code and values, along with Irken law, just for the sake of personal efficiency.

Number 2 is also the Zim that came the closest to successfully taking over earth. He already has a perfect disguise in the form of Tak’s stolen holographic one, has a better SIR Unit after combining Gir and Mini and already has no problem with killing his rivals. He could have easily killed Dib and would have no problem with doing so. In fact, it wouldn’t be too big of a stretch to assume that the only thing preventing Number 2 from killing Dib and taking over earth was getting called to the Zimvoid. If he hadn’t received that distress call, Number 2 would have successfully killed Dib and taken over earth.

But that’s not the end of Number 2’s story. When he arrived in the Zimvoid, he covered up the stolen technology he wired to himself with a purple hood (most likely because he didn’t want the other Zims to learn about his actions and his perversion of the moral code that all Zims have) and got to work. He quickly became one of the top 100, most likely through the colosseum, where Number 2 has no problem with killing one of his own kind. Unlike other Zims, who all hold some level of respect for one another and therefore don’t often outright kill one another in the colosseum, instead knocking each other unconscious or rendering them unable to fight in any way that isn’t completely lethal, Number 2 doesn’t care about that all important moral code and will kill whatever’s in front of him if it advances his own goals. And that holographic technology does wonders in combat. He was most likely made into one of the elite because of this ruthlessness and willingness to kill, although the lower amount of Zims at the time and him being the second (actually first) Zim to enter the Zimvoid definitely helped.

Once he was a member of the elite, Number 2 managed to fool the timeline detector, just like every other Zim that managed to become one the elites. In his case, he didn’t want his actions and his complete mangling of the Zim Moral Code™ to be revealed, so he tricked the machine into showing a random memory instead of the moment he killed Tak, which just so happened to be him missing a shot with Vibrating Irken Death Blades. Since then, he’s claimed that his divergent trait is that he has an accuracy rate of 99.4% instead of the usual 99.7% when it comes to throwing knives, purposely missing shots when he needs to prove it.

Number 2 even had plans to overthrow Zib, and we would have seen those plans in action if Zib hadn’t decided to use his virus plan at that particular time. If he waited a bit longer, just a few days, Number 2 would have put his plan into action.

Just like how Zib is the Ultimate Dib, Number 2 is the Ultimate Zim.

Zib is a Dib that successfully killed his Zim.

Number 2 is a Zim that would have killed his Dib if Zib didn’t interfere.

Zib is a dark warning of what happens if Dib completely loses himself to his obsession with the paranormal, going completely off the deep end when he’s denied the fame and recognition that proving it’s existence should bring. Deciding that if he can’t win, Zim can’t either and attempting to wipe out the Irken empire in all possible timelines to make sure of that, regardless of the consequences.

Number 2 is a dark warning of what would happen if Zim were to abandon his moral code, killing rivals and going against his own morality and even Irken law for the sake of efficiency and personal gain and quickly becoming almost unrecognizable as a result. Just a single slip up (in Number 2’s case; killing Tak) and it’s a slippery slope towards the complete loss of his moral code.

Both Zib and Number 2 got what they wanted (or at least Number 2 would’ve if not for the Zimvoid), but have lost themselves in the process. Dib looks at Zib and sees a monster worse than Zim ever was, and if his actions were ever revealed, Zim would look at Number 2 and see something that goes against everything he stands for. And just to add insult to injury, that monster in front of him shares his face.

[ms-scarletwings]

I seriously haven’t been normal ever since I found out about the Zimvoid arc

[sapphorror]

The Nightmare Begins in general excels at establishing long-running precedents, the chase scene being one of the best and most obvious examples even if I think that in a vacuum it was by far the weakest part of the episode—I mean, I've already made it VERY clear how passionate I am about the pursuer/pursued dynamic at play here. But while I don't necessarily think this was the writers' conscious intent, the sleep cuffs themselves being the centerpiece in Zim and Dib's first conflict can actually ALSO be interpreted as a kind of brilliant bit of symbolism

Because there's an underlying joke here that the shady 'alien sleep cuffs' ordered by a twelve year old out of some random magazine almost CERTAINLY do not work as intended—I mean, they're notably not even one of Membrane's experimental creations, which is the device generally used to supply Dib with inexplicable anti-Zim tech. This renders the whole chase meaningless, since even if Dib HAD caught Zim and cuffed him, it wouldn't have mattered—just being restrained isn't an issue for Zim. This is NOT a strange or difficult conclusion to come to for anyone paying the slightest bit of attention, but Zim and Dib both buy into it (actually, even Zim seemed a bit suspicious of their validity, but it was like his second day on an unknown planet and he was not taking any chances). It's only through their mutual belief that the stakes become real, and then only between the two of them.

And that's... that's the whole show. While it's very rarely right up and explicitly stated, every viewer watches with an implicit awareness that no matter what is happening on screen and how much the characters care, none of it will ever actually amount to anything. Partially because cartoon law states that neither Zim nor Dib can ever truly win, lest it destroy the status quo, but more importantly because even if they DID succeed in their stated goals, it wouldn't matter. Zim's mission is, of course, fake, that's key to the story's entire premise, and it's made increasingly clear as the show goes on (+ explicitly confirmed through Zib in the comics) that no amount of proof will ever sway humanity to Dib's side. Everyone besides them can recognize these fool's errands for what they are (even if they don't necessarily understand the full truth as to why), but within this self-contained bubble, the unerring conviction shared solely between two opponents gives the conflict weight. It's pointless, and you know it's pointless, but you get caught up in it anyway.

And y'know. Intentional or not, I just find little thematic microcosms like that really neat.

[1nvad3rz1m]

10 minutes to doom is so fascinating because fandom will use zim losing his pak as death when he doesnt...seemingly die...it latches onto dib and starts to infect him and take over sort of like a parasite. zib is stronger evidence that zim does die ? but also not? it infects dib but in this version its well on its way to entirely taking over dibs brain.

and on the flip side we also tend to say that irkens brains are only in their PAKs but zib is proof they arent, because dib wasnt infected all of the way and zim is mostly dormant (except for physiological changes???? Which is a whole different question if paks contain dna or dibs body molecularly had to change to support it)

It seems like a mix of both...irkens have an organic brain most likely, and the pak is either supplementary or more likely they have symbiotic-bordering-on-parasitic relationship. Like that fucking pokemon...like parasect where the line is so blurred between fungus and host. If an irken loses a pak the body dies and it maybe cant be replaced? If were to believe the organic brain is largely responsible for personality, consciousness, and memories. Idk!

[lackadaisy-headcanon-supply-unit]

Sitting in your requests box

Could I possibly ask for a Viktor & Reader (either familial or platonic, please) headcanons or a oneshot where Viktor (reluctantly) comforts the reader after a bad dream? (I know this is probably OOC for Viktor but. but. Cat dad)

We do love Dadktor in this household.

Cracked Glass

Viktor wouldn't call himself a father, or at least not a very good one.

Although his daughter's letters were all signed off with love, he could feel the bitterness beneath the lines, the cold regret of his silence in every "merry Christmas" or "please write soon". He could see the deep indents in the paper as the years dragged on, where shy curiosity about his absence turned to frustration. As Alena's curly handwriting became neater and clearer to read, so did her feelings towards him.

She loved him to bits, but she just wanted some sort of proof that he loved her back.

Viktor would have given it if holding a pen was more familiar to him than holding a gun was. If ink and blood were switched. If he wasn't embarrassed that his daughter's English and overall prose was better than his own. If he believed that anything he could say could make any of it better.

It wouldn't. A single letter from him would warrant a landslide of questions, open up cans of worms and shaken booze he'd rather keep closed and in his own flask.

A father would have done so regardless of the consequences. Viktor would not have considered himself as such, no matter how much the pain of it trickled down his tight throat and heaving chest.

In times like this, he chugged whatever illicit beverage was closest to him.

The last bottle of Sunset Rose Cocktail.

Slightly better than radiator fluid, the drink that felt like downing shattered glass, disgusting enough to take his mind off things.

Mrs May would probably scold him for drinking one of the last bottles they had. However, Viktor knew her well enough. Her hardened gaze would soften, as would she. She'd leave him be with a saddened smile and a sigh, then go and sit in a leather booth off to the side or return to the upstairs office. Anywhere that would remind her, and all of them, of Mr May.

And Viktor would continue to drink.

His guts—even after being hardened by years of questionable nutrition choices in the trenches, prison and even the speakeasy itself—protested loudly. Cracked glass indeed. No one would miss it.

He was doing the joint a favour.

It was mainly empty, anyway. The employees they could spare—and there were a few—had been sent on last minute liquor searches. Usual customers such as Mr Sable had supposedly been held back by meetings in the real world. Horatio had fallen asleep by the door, or so the loud snoring from outside implied. Zib and his group were lounging on stage in a depressing silence and drunken stupor.

The rest of the gun-savvy staff—very few, maybe two or three—left behind were those recovering from avoidable injuries. At their head was Viktor himself, reluctantly manning the bar. Feared gunslinger to an old tabby locked behind the counter with weak knees, the permanent head of the stragglers.

None of the other runners were happy with their predicament either. They were visibly restless, pacing the floor and muttering to themselves as if it would heal their injuries any faster. No one wanted to end up like Viktor: that was common knowledge, and offended him just a little.

The only one who was actually resting did so off to the side, a twisted wrist bandaged up in strips of linen. Their head was buried between their arms, sleeping soundly.

Viktor had been watching them for a while out of the corner of his eye. Y/N, he vaguely heard someone call them.

They were one of the speakeasy's new rumrunners, small and fluffy—although to be fair, that was what most of Lackadaisy's youngsters looked like to him.

The only difference between them was the amount of tolerance he had in regards to each one. Ivy was at the top of the list, Rocky was at the bottom, and that ginger Calvin kid was lost somewhere in the middle because he never really built up the courage to stay in Viktor's presence for longer than a minute at a time.

Y/N stirred, then shivered, and finally woke up with a start. Glistening beads of sweat and wide, terrified eyes sparkled in the light of the cavern's lamps, dimmed to save on the bills.

They looked around, and finally locked eyes with Viktor. He looked down and away, put away the empty bottle and continued to polish a shot glass. Both the glass and the rag were comically small between his paws, and it took him all of his concentration to avoid crushing either.

He didn't hear the rumrunner slowly pad up to the counter, pull up a chair and only paid attention when they cleared their throat.

"Vat?" he asked, gruffly. The growl was unintentional.

"Can I talk to you?" asked Y/N. "I had a bad dream…"

A bartender needs to look like someone the patronage can tell their troubles to, Mrs May had told him many times.

It of course insinuated that he looked nothing of the sort. Other members of staff often joked that smiling properly would kill him one of these days. Vinegar, they called him, sour old Vinegar. They thought he wasn't listening, of course. He never gave any indication that he ever did, but Viktor heard it all. The cave's echoey atmosphere was the bane of secret rumours and the friend of those defamed by them. Neither brought any sense of victory when accomplished, but oftentimes were the only things worth latching onto in times of trouble. Viktor never confronted any of the stories about him. Many would think that he simply didn't care enough to. The claw marks on the underside of the bar begged to differ.

No smile, and few public clues or knowledge about his past. Sensible patrons and staff members would see that as reason enough to distance themselves from him. There were always exceptions.

The groggy-eyed feline slumped into the stool before him was one of them.

Viktor gave Y/N reluctant permission with a dismissive wave. He turned to the lines of bottles and glasses behind the counter. He had cleaned them religiously and multiple times that evening alone. One more time wouldn't hurt.

"I had a nightmare."

He hummed, rearranging the whiskey.

"I was on a run, alone. I don't know why. There was no one at all, not even in the speakeasy. I… I think everyone was dead…"

Dead.

That was a word he didn't hear too often—ironic considering his line of work—and least of all from the mouth of a kid. Oh sure, Rocky weaved it into poetry and aggressive patrons spat it out when they cursed out God over their drinks, but the thought of applying it to the rest of the staff, so bluntly, undisguised?

He stopped to properly listen, ears cocked.

"I was driving the car alone down a road by the river—I don't remember exactly where—and it was dark. There was nothing in front of me, nothing behind me, only under. The ground was made of glass everywhere I looked and the further I drove, the more it cracked. I couldn't stop and I couldn't get out. I just had to keep driving."

Their voice shuddered and broke, cracking like the road that haunted them. Viktor had since abandoned the shelves, electing instead to lean against the counter. He listened even more carefully. Politely, granted, but listening nonetheless.

"And then it split. I fell and I crashed down into freezing black water and I could get out. I couldn't swim, I just sank. Like a rock. I can't remember how I woke up. I think… I think I died too…"

The rumrunner's eyes glanced up towards Viktor. They were glazed with a glassy sheen, and…

Raspberries!—to borrow an expression from Ivy.

Were those tears running down their cheeks?

Raspberries indeed.

"My pop died during a run from the cops," they said, sniffling. "We don't even know why. Ma said he was trying to provide for us, he probably stole something. The feds chased him down to the riverbank and he lost control. They found the car the next morning and I… I can't end up like him, I can't die! My ma and sisters need me, we need the money! I can't leave them, I can't…"

They furiously wiped away the streams of tears that had only gotten bigger and wetter as they spoke.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have told you all this, you probably don't care, I'm…"

They hung their head, almost in shame.

Viktor said nothing.

He poured them a glass of whiskey—you never knew—and then he did something he never did before. He laid his paw on their shoulder.

The cat looked up again. Their expression twisted with somehow even more fear than the prospect of drowning did. Viktor didn't expect anything less, nor anything more.

He didn't pull away. Despite their grimace of fear, he could see the softness in their eyes.

Viktor wasn't one to use his imagination that often; what use was dreaming when a bullet could hit you any second? The only fantasy he had conjured up was his daughter stepping off a boat and running down the gangplank into his arms.

She had that same, soft look.

In Y/N, he could see Alena.

It was a semblance close enough to melt his heart. A little.

"It gets better," he told them gruffly. "It's not real."

He was never good with words, and used them sparingly. Tonight, however, they seemed to be enough to slow the flow of tears.

Y/N blinked up at him. "Really?"

A childish response to be sure, but one that Alena would have probably replied with as well.

Viktor's throat tightened. "Yes." He coughed. "Now; bar is a mess, and broom only need one good hand. To work."

The young feline smiled and hopped over the counter. "To work," they echoed.

They downed the whiskey with an enthusiasm only rivaled by Ivy's own and snatched up the broom. They darted between Viktor's legs and fluffy tail, sweeping shards of broken glass up and away. With a beaming grin and a theatrical bow, they demanded him for another task, claiming they could take anything on even with a broken wrist.

And for the first time in what felt like—and probably was—forever, Viktor smiled back.

[justavulcan]

Backgrounds with Class: Azorius Functionary

I'll be honest: Ravnica has always fascinated me. I was a high schooler when the first set came out, and I was immediately consumed creating characters for the setting. Now that we've actually received my long-awaited crossover, I thought it would be nice to write a love letter to the setting in the form of another Backgrounds with Class series. After all: some guilds have natural class choices tied in, from a conceptual standpoint. Boros and Fighter, Izzet and Wizard, Selesnya and Druid. But guilds aren’t class-restricted, and so I wonder what it would look like if you paired every class with every guild background, even the ones that seem at odds, like Izzet and Barbarian, or Gruul and Artificer.  So I thought about it, and this is what I came up with.  Some character concepts for each class, and each Guildmaster's Guide to Ravnica background for each class.

Azorius Functionary

The Azorius Functionary Artificer believes wordsmithing and armorsmithing are both arguments.  One is simpler than the other, and he wanted to protect people anyway- paper is too frail to keep lawbreakers away, and anyway he has pretty serious social anxiety.  He was a soft lad from a young age, but the inside of the armor is inscribed with the proofs of his determination- dense legalese referring to the crime of assault and the many degrees, qualifications and punishments therefore.

The Azorius Functionary Barbarian is walking proof not everybody can stay aloof from the laws and their consequences.  Still, the law is a labyrinth, and a labyrinth is always pleasing to the mind of a minotaur.  Legal assistant and debater extraordinaire, her wild temper (which she comes by naturally; her parents both have severe anger management issues) is still bordering on uncontrollable, with occasionally regrettable drawbacks to her career- and the rare boon, as that kind of steep and genuine passion sometimes can stir the hearts of even Azorius legislators.

The Azorius Functionary Bard finds that the Senate is as much a forum for performance as any concert hall, even if it’s less musical.  The eloquent may always find a home there, even if their love is less of the law they defend and more the intricacies of the debate- for those who would put their word to the trial like this, there’s no greater thrill.  This kind of thrill-seeking has always been part of this bard’s makeup- talking himself into and out of trouble has been his modus operandi since he grew up on Tin Street, looking for kicks that didn’t cost him a zib.

The Azorius Functionary Cleric is actually wildly unsuited for the adventuring life- at least at first.  To this vedalken legal assistant, every part of putting the law into practice the hard way is miserable except the rush of adrenaline.  However, given the opportunity to take the law from paper to practice, to legal theory to reality, they jumped at the chance- and their confidence is growing by leaps and bounds.  As no gods lay power before Ravnican clerics, their ability to enforce the law by thought and spell grows only with their conviction, feeding their addiction to testing the law’s power on the street.

The Azorius Functionary Druid tends to the owls and horses the Azorius senate leans on for their messenger and enforcement capabilities.  Drawn to the freedom of the owls and their calling to fly far with the Senate’s decisions clutched in their talons, this centaur found her way to tending stable and owlery alike.  Like the horses they resemble, she prefers to know where her next meal is coming from, and the stability the Azorius offer goes a long way toward meeting that goal; besides, she has a natural gift with the animals that the human tenders can’t match.

The Azorius Functionary Fighter was once a riot squad trainee, favoring a staff and shield for their crowd-handling capacity.  After requesting a transfer out of the more authoritarian and frankly oppressive new prison, he was glad to hit the streets again, only called out for the most extreme of circumstances.  He’s good at keeping his head, and a lifetime of navigating the frankly byzantine halls of Azorius beaurocracy has lent him more subtlety than the average head-cracker.

The Azorius Functionary Monk is a practitioner of the Azorius arts of ectomancy- unknown to many, the Azorius are as skilled as the Orzhov at binding spirits to service, particularly the posthumous wojek as protectors of the Living Guildpact’s uneasy peace.  While many favor necromancy for this undertaking, this ectomancer handles this magic in a more personal manner, binding spirit to flesh and serving proudly as avatar of the spirit he binds.  While he still studies the discipline of mind and body necessary to bind an astral self, however, he serves meanwhile as a personal assistant and sometime bodyguard to a public prosecutor.

The Azorius Functionary Paladin is walking proof that it’s not uncommon for the most ardent of the Azorius’s lawkeepers to be motivated by personal history as much as duty.  She has sworn before all the courts and Isperia herself that her vengeance will follow the law- a stricture she dares not bend, lest it cost her the means by which she pursues her revenge.  Whether this is against the Rakdos or Gruul for the cost of their reckless savagery and destruction or the Golgari or Dimir for their scheming, she faces these foes in the fields they’re least equipped to meet her- Rakdos and Gruul in the court, Golgari and Dimir on the battlefield.

The Azorius Functionary Ranger is an oddity. It is a rare thing that one with the blessing of Trostani herself leave the Selesnya conclave, but when she did so, the ripples fouled her relationship with the Conclave forever.  Still, she’s one of the Azorius’s preferred ‘inter-guild liasons’ to handle guilds more concerned with the growth of living things than the tomes of the law.  A certain civic-mindedness is at the heart of her motivations, one that was drawn to the order of the Azorius over the more naturalistic structure of the Selesnya.

The Azorius Functionary Rogue is a creature of the library and courtroom, not the street.  She’s well-versed to take the measure of others, provide research and assistance for legal precedent and even take the case herself.  She’s a natural socialite with a guilty pleasure for roaming far from the areas meant to actually contain the party, getting a taste for other people’s homes and personalities from what she can glean looking into their possessions.  After all, a home is like a mind, and both lay out their secrets if you know how to look.

The Azorius Functionary Sorcerer is walking proof that if the law is a process, it would follow that sometimes that process has byproducts.  Sometimes those byproducts are unintended legal interactions needing to be tied up, and sometimes the heiromancy that the entire guild leans on to enforce their will is concentrated into people by happenstance.  Son of a long legacy of lawyers, public defenders, senators, and research assistants and sought after by precognitives and lawmages alike, he has a lot to live up to if he’s to fit his talents into the ticking mechanism of the city.

The Azorius Functionary Warlock is motivated by an uncommon passion for her work.  Goblins are usually a chaotic element in Ravnica’s extensive cityscape, but this would-be arrestor has nothing but law on the mind.  Having made a deal with a being of pure celestial law and keen on the Azorius’s new surveillance-heavy attitude towards law enforcement, this warlock is nevertheless more the threat with blade and spell than administration and legislature.  Her intimidating bearing and uncompromising mindset promise to make her a legend among Ravnica’s law enforcement, and she takes to the title of lawmage with enthusiasm.  (this particular warlock was a creation of a friend of mine; their initial thoughts and character art can be found here).

The Azorius Functionary Wizard was a member of the Sova column.  The motivation for their transfer was as emotional as logical, and consequently an uncharacteristic move.  Skilled as vedalken sometimes are in the delicate arts of calligraphy and magic both, the wizard recently put in for a transfer of department to the Lyev column to serve as a lawmage.  Their motive was less than logical, though- to keep an eye out for a recent friend, a warrior from the Gruul Clans who showed them uncertainty that anarchy was the right path for her.

[treel]

Éxtasis Chapter 7 Preview

Sorry I’m so slow! It’s coming, I promise! 

Also, if you don’t like my depiction of Zib in this fic - as I’ve said many, many times, and try to make clear in the tags, it is a horror story. If you don’t like it, or what I post, please just move on and don’t try to drag me through the mud. 

---

Grinning, he gestured toward the monitors, waveform proof of their approach, playing bright across the screens. Two’s eyes bored back at him, and Dib could recognize that calculating look. Trying to think of a way out of it, surely. Dib was familiar with the expression; Two wasn’t the first reluctant party he’d asked to watch his favorite show with.

Of course, this time, there was no choice. Two seemed to come to that same realization, and he hesitantly lowered himself onto the cushions, huddled against a mound of blankets, arms wrapped around his legs and eyes fixed forward.

“Good,” Dib cooed, taking a place beside him, “I’m proud of you, Two. You always did learn a lot faster than the others. You’re the smartest one of them, you know?”

The praise did seem to perk Two up, if only slightly – his antennae twitched, his spine straightened. They just couldn’t help it, these Zims, this useful and obvious weakness. Now that Two had been beaten down enough, Dib could begin to build him back up.

Something he’d been looking forward to. The creation would be better than the destruction, because with it would come adoration, obedience, love, he was sure. A new life, built in Dib’s own image, and all he would ask was worship. 

A small price to pay.

[random-iz-stuff]

Invader Zim Deathmatch:

ROUND 2, FIGHT 7:

Chammy Wamboo vs Zib!

The rules are as follows:

1. We’re assuming that both participants actively want and are willing to kill each other unless actively specified otherwise (for example: Chammy Wamboo).

2. The fight must be one on one so no outside help is allowed, but prep time is allowed.

3. The rule for prep time is that if one contestant gets prep time, the other contestant gets an equal amount of prep time as well.

[Masterpost]

Information about both contestants (who they are, powers and abilities, etc) can be found under the cut.

Contestant Stats:

Chammy Wamboo:

“The exact opposite of this competition”

Appearances:

Chammy Wamboo appears in Issue 50 of the comics and has a cameo appearance in “Dookie Loop Horror”

Powers and abilities:

Friendship (Chammy Wamboo has the uncanny ability to make friends with (almost) anyone and make (almost) anyone be friends. However, this ability has it’s limits, as sworn Enemies like Zim and Dib seem to be immune)

[Weakness] Pacifist (Chammy Wamboo literally can’t hurt a fly, instead trying to make everyone be friends with everyone. That isn’t going to work in a deathmatch where there’s only room for one winner)

Fun Fact:

If Chammy Wamboo appeared outside the comics, she would have the same voice as Pinkie Pie from MLP. I have no explanation nor proof for this, I just feel it in my bones.

Zib:

“Number 1”

Appearances:

Zib is the main villain of the Zimvoid Arc, spanning Issues 46-49 of the comics

Powers and abilities:

Enhanced strength (Dib shows various feats of superhuman strength throughout the series, like smashing through a wall for example (possibly because he’s a clone that’s been genetically modified). As an alternate Dib, Zib has the same abilities, possibly more so due to his stolen PAK)

Enhanced agility and stamina (Dib also shows various feats of superhuman agility, stamina and acrobatic skills throughout the series (once again possibly because he’s a clone that’s been genetically modified). As an alternate Dib, Zib has the same abilities, possibly more so due to his stolen PAK)

Enabled Durability (Dib consistently shows throughout the series that he’s remarkably durable, surviving getting blown up, thrown through walls, etc (Try to guess why that may be). As an alternate Dib, Zib has the same abilities, possibly more so due to his stolen PAK)

Increased Intelligence (Dib is one of, if not the smartest humans in the show. He’s cunning, crafty, able to find and capitalize of his opponent’s weaknesses, has shown himself to be able to modify and use pre-existing alien tech for his own purposes and knows how to make his own devices from scratch. Zib not only has Dib’s regular intelligence, but shows that he also has some of Zim’s extreme intelligence due to his stolen PAK, managing to build a scaled up replica of one of Zim’s old inventions from (stolen) memory)

Stolen training (as Zib has access to Zim’s memories, he may also have access to some of Zim’s military training. Elite level fighting capability)

Supernatural knowledge (Dib is extremely knowledgeable on all things supernatural and has successfully used at least two magic devices (a Spelldrive in Gaz; Taster Of Pork and a (faulty) Freezing Talisman in one of the unfinished episodes, showing that he generally knows how to operate them)

PAK (PAK legs, PAK lasers, shield generator, all the things an Irken PAK can do)

Fun Fact:

Zib may or may not be a reference to the Fake Episode “Invader Dib” and a reference to the Unmade Episode “10 Minutes To Doom”.

[reynaruina]

I know he's not in PT, but what would Zib be like if he came from that world??? I don't think PT Dib would put Zim's PAK on himself willingly so let's assume it was some kind of accident he couldn't reverse.

Oh fuck man, the instant pouring of Zim’s feelings into Dib’s head when the PAK makes a connection to the brain would likely be too much for Dib. Probably give him a stroke, if nothing worse. Not sure he’d survive, in his terrible physical state.

[melodyofthevoid]

Zib, Two and their smeets are like the Adams family. I have no proof but no doubts either.

Anon how does it feel to be so fucking smart? So big-brained? So ahead of the curve?

The devotion? The general propensity for violence and unconventional family norms? The aesthetics? The usage of magic (depending on the version)? Fuck yeah man. Holy shit.

Zib as Morticia and Two as Gomez, the fucking dream couple my god.

[galxury]

Ok! Is it ok if I can have uuuuuuhh.... Zib having fun underwater (he's also fully clothed) Please and thank you!

Fskfjskfjdk okay!

Also, I made the pak water proof :D

[lazyfrenchfrycollection]

Zib @ Dib: Dad may be stupid but you just might out-dumb him. I mean, not gonna imply I'm living proof no one gives a shit if you expose aliens eventually, but yeah that's exactly what I am :)

Sjshahaksh anon You captured the exact vibe I was going for

[krizaland]

do you have any personal headcanons for zib? s/o related or not

I think I’ve got a few things~ WARNING: Spoilers for Zimvoid under the cut!

General:

I headcannon that Zib is actually Pilot Dib! Therefore a lot of my headcannons are based on the pilot Invader Zim show bible.

[Image: Screenshot from the pilot show bible that reads:

DIB: Relentless pursuer of the paranormal, he’s the elementary school Fox Mulder. (With slightly more emotional range) Dib is the “Gifted Child” of his school, capable of far more scientifically and intellectually than any of his classmates, and he knows it. 

He is the son of the one and only PROFESSOR MEMBRANE, the man responsible for thousands of amazing inventions and miraculous cures that he discovers everyday, as well as the enormously popular kids’s show “ASK MISTER MEMBRANE”.

Aside from being a tireless supernatural investigator, Dib is quite the little scientist/inventor himself, not that his far too busy father ever notices. You see, dad has become numb to amazing scientific discoveries, so he will respond to is son’s giant robot the same way he might to his daughter’s happy father’s day sculpture. This will not do for Dib, who wants to impress his father more than anything in the world.

ZIM’s arrival into Dib’s life provides him with exactly what is needed to trip the wires in his head, setting off his twin obsessions. His “truth is out there” fixation could find no better focus than the kid who is so obviously not from here, and yet no one but he (and a select few others) can even see the truth. And how could dad not be impressed by a son who singlehandedly exposed the evil alien threat and saved the planet from impending DOOM! (What father wouldn’t be proud?! End description]

As you can see, Pilot Membrane was just as neglectful as he was in the show.

Therefore, Zib’s descend into madness begun at a very young age.

Constantly being brushed off by the only parental figure he has took quite a toll on his mental health to say the least.

It doesn’t help that he’s a ‘gifted kid’ in a class that’s not advanced enough for him.

No doubt the pressure of being ‘gifted’ and being Professor Membrane’s son is a lot for a child to bear.

Therefore it’s no wonder Zib ended up so unhinged and borderline creepy. Hell he was so desperate to impress his shitty excuse of a father that he even resorted to experimenting on Gaz! 

[Image: Another screenshot from the Pilot show bible that reads:

Aside from his father, Dib could care less what the world at large thinks of him. He is content with his passion for delving into the spooky world of the unexplained.

Still, a guy needs an audience, a confidant of sorts, and it is here that his younger sister, GAZ comes into play, whether she wants to be involved or not.

In addition to her role as the reluctant sidekick, Gaz also finds herself the unwitting test subject for Dib’s gadgets, chemicals, and alien hunting devices. 

His experiments aren’t the results of any ill feelings, he does them out of necessity, not having any other place to test things out. He does feel a little guilt of the pain and embarrassment inflicted on her and tries to make up for them in various ways, but unfortunately these “apologies” almost always involve another experiment.

After feeling guilty for putting a test syrum in his sister’s lunch which caused her to uncontrollably dance a merry little jig in her food, he might give her a doll. The thing is, the doll is a prototype mind reading robot which absorbs the knowledge and information about the people who touch it. The doll, of course, goes bad and ends up escaping, spouting off Gaz’s deep, dark secrets to whoever will listen.

End description]

Judging by his tendencies to experiment on and deceive Gaz, it’s no wonder she hates him so much.

Adding to this, because experimenting and deceiving the person who’s the closest thing to a friend he has, Zib’s view on friendship is extremely skewed to say the least.

Zib seems to have tunnel vision and will do whatever to takes to achieve his goals even if it means stepping on others to climb to the top.

In spite of all this, I headcannon that if anyone were to praise him, even if they aren’t Professor Membrane, Zib would be over the moon! If that person was the only one who praised him, then Zib would most likely form an obsession with them and would want to impress them as well.

As we all know, when Zib successfully exposed his Zim no one cared, not even his father.

Therefore he snapped and tried to conquer his world, only to destroy it.

I heacannon that having Zim’s PAK stuck to his head has altered what little empathy he had for others to start with.

Zim’s personality had seeped into Zib’s leaving him more insane and delusional than before.

Adding to that, Zib is also insanely destructive and has an obsession with conquering worlds for “the greater good” of course.

With all of this being said, Zib still craves praise and appreciation and would would be overjoyed for another human to give him even the slightest crumb of positive attention.

Being stuck with no one other than Zims to talk to has left Zib incredibly lonely and he secretly craves human contact.

S/O headcannons:

Because he has been without humans to impress for so long,, Zib would have an insanely unhealthy obsession with his S/O (One could call him a yandere)

Zib would do literally anything to please his S/O and make sure they stay by his side no matter what.

Zib can’t handle being left alone for long periods of time and might have a panic attack if he can’t find his S/O.

Of course, being the mad scientist he is, he would most likely install a tracking chip in is his S/O while they slept to he’d know where they were at all times.

Zib would always have cameras on his S/O so that he knows their safe and not trying to leave him.

Zib loves his S/O more than anything else and won’t let them forget it!

He’s a sucker for cuddles and will want them in his arms at all times.

Lots and lots of drool! Zib would carry around a towel so his S/O wouldn’t get soaked.

Adding to that, if his S/O drooled in their sleep he’d get super excited because it’s more proof that they were meant to be with him forever.

Zib would shower his S/O in creepy yet well meaning compliments.

RIP to anyone (Especially Zims) who try to take them from him.

Zib may try to marry his S/O ASAP but if they talked him out of it he’d wait.

That’s all I have off the top of my head.

[dreamtcloud]

MEME  — @briilliance​

👀 + What did you do to your family - For Zib

               Oh how he wanted to just tell them to fuck off, but any time he tried to voice it, nothing came out of his mouth. He didn’t WANT to think about his family, or what had happened in between Zim’s death, and the self proclaimed Zimvoid. Looking down, the hair sticking up twitched slightly in anger.

          ❝    What did I do to them? That’s a stupid way of putting it. More like what did they do to me. After I defeated Zim, at least Gaz believed me for a while. She always had known Zim was an alien, but she agreed that this was proof. People didn’t see it that way. DAD didn’t see it that way...    ❞

               It wasn’t like it was his fault either, at least for his Dad, but he still had the guilt of it. Because of so many smaller things, his big plan to take down any Irkens in the universe was feasible, but at a high price.

          ❝    Gaz figured out what I was doing, making the signal to act as the whole bug zapper using one of Zim’s old plans. I was about halfway through creating the computer program and things. She and I fought, but in the end I just walked away. It was when Dad approached me about using the resources of his labs... I don’t know what happened. I just got uncontrollably angry, and the Pak registered him as a threat.    ❞

               His hands were shaking, but all he could do was ball them into fists to express his anger. None of it. Through any of it his father never expressed any kind of support. Just telling him it was all make believe, that he was dreaming up crazy things. Even with all of Zim’s possessions as evidence. Mouth no longer in his control, he just kept going with this sad tale.

          ❝    He tried a few different ways, a few different times to get the Pak off, and it didn’t work. Eventually I just- stopped. I stopped caring. More and more fights broke out, and eventually both him and Gaz tried to stop me one last time. They didn’t believe in me, just like how no one else did. I locked them up in some prison cell alien... THING Zim had in his base, before you get the idea I killed them. They died in the backlash of the reactor though, just like nearly every other person on Earth. They definitely aren’t around now that my universe is gone, though.    ❞

[melodyofthevoid]

(Music Anon) I've been listening to the Jekyll and Hyde musical soundtrack because, well, it's pretty good. But then Confrontation plays and my first thoughts are "Hey. It's Zib." like. okay. hear me out. Internal struggle? check. Denial of one existence? check. It fits so well, just... thoughts? (Ps. If you can, watch the animatics, it's... :) )

You’ve hit the nail on the head yet again music anon! 

(The animatic in question if y’all haven’t seen this masterpiece)

It’s got all the hallmarks of this absolute disaster of a person. And depending on when this happens, it can have so many implications. For this animatic, the introduction of ‘Zim’ to Zib causes almost immediate changes (which may I say, were animated phenomenally), but if you want to go long con, perhaps the changes and integration of Zim’s personality to Zib’s were more... subtle. Gradual. A frog in a boiling pot that couldn’t really even see the changes, or didn’t want to see them, even in the end. 

Maybe Dib started relating less and less with humanity, his desperation for his dad’s approval amplified immensely (he’s so tall, must impress the tallest) his knowledge of Irken tech increased, as if he’d always known how to use those tools (and he had) and when his proof was rejected yet again, he went bigger. What a trait of a Zim to escalate, to want to go further and further over the top. The physical changes easy to ignore when you had something so much more important. Until it wasn’t. And Dib (he knew that wasn’t who he was anymore but he wanted to pretend) is faced with Zim. Zim who is now, and really always has been, an inexorable part of him. Someone he’ll never escape no matter how hard he tries. As much as he argues and fights, claiming that soon Zim will now be buried and gone forever, he won’t have to deal with him ever again.

But we all know that’s not true. Because Dib isn’t Dib anymore. 

[krizaland]

What I’ve done Chapter 1

Zib is honestly my new favorite villain. He’s a fusion of both Zim and Dib’s worst traits and is tons of fun to write. I really hope we see him again someday!

Until then, here’s this beginning of a little redemption arc I wrote for him! Enjoy!

Be warned: There are spoilers for the Zimvoid story arc!

After the Zimvoid fell into ruin there was no blood, nor an alibi. Just piles of dust and broken tech.

Zib stood atop of what was left of his castle.  He looked up at the sickly yellow sky as a dry wind blew through his tattered coat.

With all of the portals have closed up and the Dimensional Zapper damaged beyond repair, The Zimvoid was left an empty wasteland.

Zib may have hated all Zims but there was one thing he hated more:

Being alone.

Now there was no one to talk to, no one to help him, no one to tell him everything was gonna be ok.

What was left of Zib’s shriveled heart begun to ache as a few tears welled in his yellowed eyes.

Was this his life now? To be left to die alone on what was left of his home?

Zib sniffled as he fell to his knees.

“Ruined….Ruined….All of my hard work…..amounted to…..this.  I could’ve had it all! I was supposed to have it all! How could have things gone so wrong! HOW?!” Zib wailed as sickly grey tears streamed down his cheeks.

“FOOL! You actually thought you would succeed?!”

Zib’s blood ran cold at the sound of that all too familiar voice.

“What the-Zim?! No….No! You’re dead! I killed you! I know I did! I’m wearing your PAK as proof!” Zib spluttered as he sprung to his feet.

“FOOLISH  STINK-CREATURE! You may have destroyed my body shell but Zim’s SUPERIOR IRKEN MIND lives on within my PAK! Which you stole from me by the way!” The PAK cackled.

“No! No! This can’t be happening! You can’t still be alive! There’s no way! No possible way! You’re just a figment of my imagination!” Zib whimpered as he grabbed the sides of his head.

“Oh tell me, Dib. Can a figment of your imagination do THIS?!”

WHIRRR!

The PAK begun to glow as Zib’s mind became bombarded with new information.

ZAP!

Zib’s world went dark.

“Awaken, Stink-Beast…”

Zib slowly opened his heavy eyelids to find a blurry yet familiar figure looming over him.

“Wha…What’s going on?”

Zib rubbed his eyes and let out a gasp.

“Hello Dib!” A crooked grin spread across Zim’s face.

“What the- Zim?! What are you doing here?! Where are we?!” Zib spluttered as he sprung to his feet.

“We’re INSIDE YOUR MIND! Spooky yes? At this very moment we’re somewhere in your disgusting mind! Next to your memory storage hold!” Zim explained dramatically.

“Memory storage hold?” Zib parroted as he tilted his head.

“Yes! Memory storage hold!” Zim confirmed with a nod.

“In my…mind?”

“Yes!”

“I don’t think humans have-”

“DO NOT QUESTION ZIM!” Zim bellowed as he grabbed Zib by the shirt.

“Ack! Ok! Put me down! How did you get inside my head?!” Zib snapped as he wriggled out of Zim’s grip.

“YOU FOOL! DON’T ACT MORE STUPID THAN YOU ALREADY ARE! YOU KNOW EXACTLY HOW ZIM GOT STUCK HERE!” Zim roared as he snapped a finger in Zib’s face.

“Wait! The PAK?! You got stuck inside my mind through the PAK?!” Zib gasped.

“NO! When you stole my PAK, it uploaded Zim’s superior consciousness into your pathetic filthy human mind! I have been stuck here ever since!” Zim snarled as he put his hands on his hips.

“But how is that possible! I thought Irkens could only survive for ten minuets without their PAKs!” Zib yelped as he backed away from Zim.

“Our body shells can only live for ten minutes. But once they deteriorate our PAKs will reattach to the nearest available host. Our superior minds and memory data are uploaded into the host body! I’m actually surprised your inferior human body has survived this long, Dib-beast. Normally any incompatible hosts are destroyed by the PAK’s superior data.” Zim corrected as he rolled his eyes.

“Oh…That makes sense I guess….” Zib murmured as he scratched his head.

“Now then, down to business!” Zim grabbed Zib by the arm and led him through a long, dark hallway.

“Hey! Where are you taking me?!” Zib demanded as he wriggled about.

“Quit your struggling, pathetic-worm! I’m simply taking you to my memory storage hold.” Zim huffed as he continued to drag Zib down the hallway.

“Wait, Your memory storage hold?! But we’re in my mind-”

“Fool! All of Zim’s superior mind has been fused with your pathetic inferior human mind! I thought I made that clear!” Zim grumbled as his grip tightened.

“Ow! Ow! Ok! Loosen your grip! You’re digging into my arm!” Zib whined.

“Oh sorry about that.” Zim chuckled as he loosened his grip a bit.

“Why are you leading me to your memory storage hold anyway?” Zib asked as he raised a brow.

“Simple! You don’t seem to comprehend the weight of what you’ve done! So I’m going to ‘open your eyes’ as you would put it.” Zim explained.

“Are you trying to make me feel bad for stopping your alien evil?!” Zib snapped.

“No! I’m trying to make you feel bad for stealing my PAK!” Zim snarled as he stomped his foot.

“Well good luck with that! Stealing your PAK was the best decision I’ve ever made! There’s nothing you could possibly show me that could ever change that!” Zib boasted with a crazed grin.

“Oh you say that now, yes. But soon you will be rotting away in a pile of your own guilt and shame!” Zim scoffed.

“Sure, whatever you say, space boy.” Zib chuckled as he kept walking.

After what felt like hours of walking, Zim finally led Zib to a large mechanical door.

“Here we are, human! BEHOLD! The glorious memory storage hold of Zim!” Zim cackled as he gestured to the door.

“It looks just like a normal door-”

“DO NOT QUESTION THE WAYS OF MY SUPERIOR IRKEN MIND, DIB!” Zim roared as he snapped his free finger and a foot in Zib’s face.

“Ok, ok! Jeez! Let’s just get this over with already.” Zib grumbled.

And with that, the mechanical door opened and Zim dragged Zib inside.