Well, it's finally summer so I'll be updating like fucking crazy. Also, I've drawn a shit load of ZADR porn, which you can find on my ygal. Link is on my profile. Also, if you're an Invader Zim fan, go ahead and add me on msn. I encourage you, because I have very few people to fan to with. I'm motherfucking kawaii, we'll be great friends.
Maybe he was just getting older, but Dib could have sworn that the years were getting shorter. Wasn't he just sixteen yesterday? No? Fourteen? Ten? Strange, because the years had always seemed to drag on so long when he was younger. Everything was special and distinct. Fall was school, Halloween and Thanksgiving. Winter was snow and Christmas, presents and his father. Spring smelled good; freshly cut grass and rain. And of course summer, which seemed to last an eternity but was never quite long enough to keep the schedule from repeating. And while he still had nostalgia, it just wasn't the same.
Life was just repetition. Work and then rest, stress and then more stress in a continuous cycle. The seasons changed and days became weeks into months, but it wasn't the same. Maybe it had been the naivety of youth that kept him from going truly insane, but now, still without any friends, Dib was lost. Alone.
But maybe this was how life was supposed to be?
He remembered as a child how he couldn't have waited to be an adult. To be able to drive, have money, not be told what to do; but most importantly, people would listen to him then. Of course, he'd realized the hard way that not all of these things were true. Sure, he could drive, but it cost money to buy gas. And when all of his money was gone, he had to work where others gave the orders and no one listened to him.
All of it had just wound up to have been fantasy anyway. Of course it couldn't have been true, just like the rest of his fantasies. Or delusions, which they were called now. He would never have money, he would always be told what to do, and of course, aliens would never be real.
It wasn't as if he believed that, but he had to. Because it was time to face the truth: he would not succeed in life without a college degree, a steady job, his own apartment, and other meaningless commodities that were deemed necessary by the mass public. He might have been on the right track by having gotten into college, but his grades were failing, he had been fired for not showing up to work multiple times, and was on the verge of being kicked out of his apartment for failing to pay rent time and time again. But he couldn't help it, because he was addicted. Addicted to Zim, and to the only happiness he'd ever known as a child.
There was something about Zim that kept him coming back. Dib wasn't even sure if he even believed that Zim was capable of conquest anymore, but still, he kept following him. Day after day he followed him, but it had been a long time since he had learned anything new about the alien. Zim's life had become sedimentary after he had graduated from Skool, hardly venturing out of his base. It wasn't even a fascination anymore. That had worn off a long, long time ago. No, Dib needed him. Maybe not Zim himself, but what Zim was, or had been; a distraction close to happiness.
It would have been a lie if Dib had said that he'd been a happy child (constantly bullied and ostracized), but what Zim gave him was a game. Chasing and stalking him took his mind off everything, and offered him so much more to see. The paranormal had become real, and it excited him beyond belief. Every day had been a new adventure, something new to learn and see and experience.
But not anymore.
That happiness no longer existed, and trying to cling onto it was killing him. He'd always known that life was hard, but not like this. This wasn't a game, this was real, and this was more important than chasing after a fantasy. Zim was a drug, an obsession, an addiction. And it was time for Dib to stop. It had been far too long, but it only takes one decision and thirty days to break a habit.
It started on a Wednesday.
There hadn't been anything special about that day, but when Dib woke up and rubbed his eyes open, he knew things were going to change. He always thought that it would have been a lot harder to do, but strangely it wasn't. Wake up, make coffee, read the assigned pages for school, brush his teeth, and start the car. Go to class. Take notes. Come home. Make dinner, maybe some internet, and then bed. One whole day without Zim. Not even a thought of Zim, or aliens, or ghosts. An average, ordinary day for anyone apart from Dib. But the lack of excitement was what made it so very strange.
Of course, Dib knew that most people didn't have obsessions like he did, but still, the humdrumness of ordinary life seemed wrong. There was no flavor and no passion. Dull and boring, but that was how it was supposed to be. Supposed to be. That's what he told himself, and that's how he didn't crack. Childhood was over and so were the games. It was time to look forward and move ahead. No more aliens. No more Zim.
But the more and more the days passed by, the easier it became. His grades were up, his homework done and his participation skyrocketed. An interview for a new job while he worked part time to pay the bills. Once, his father had called and sounded pleased. Of course they'd never meet face to face since he was working more than ever, but even his distracted tone of voice had sounded relieved when he told him how life had begun to pick up.
And it wasn't as if he'd gotten rid of everything that he'd loved. His zoology class had assigned him dissection assignments, which he found incredibly captivating. Biology and anatomy drew him in, and he wanted to know everything there was, combined with his chemistry major. Dib had also discovered forensic sciences, which he only read about in his spare time, but still began to notice things in every day life that he wouldn't have done before. He wasn't necessarily scholarly, but through purging himself of fantasy, the natural world opened up to him. The life of Earth was far more interesting then he had ever taken the time to have imagined. Dib did not need the paranormal.
There was a song playing, and he could have sworn he had heard it before. Then again they always played the same couple of songs in grocery stores. Had to keep it a clean family environment after all, even if it meant listening to Vanessa Carlton a hundred times in an hour.
It grated on his nerves. Mindless background noise that was absolutely unnecessary for the task of choosing which spaghetti sauce was best. Prego or Classico? Same price for each (completely overpriced), but Dib went with Classico. It clanged in his cart when he set it down, knocking against the jar of jelly that he'd bought for breakfast. There wasn't much left on his list, just some detergent and bread, and he looked up at the signs above the isles to find what he needed.
Dib pocketed his list when his cart was full and everything had been crossed off. His shoes made an embarrassing squeaking sound when he walked, but it was covered up by the song playing overhead. It was about all that the songs were good for. Checking for his wallet, he made his way over to the 15 Items or Less lane and waited behind an obese woman for his turn. She was carrying a baby, and while he tried to ignore it and flip through a magazine, its staring was off putting. Dib shifted and was relieved when the woman switched arms to hold it with so he didn't have to see its staring anymore. He skimmed through an interior design magazine until he was called up to the register, having not recognized that she had left.
"Next." They sounded bored.
He tossed the magazine onto the conveyor belt for the hell of it, and began loading his groceries on until he finally looked up.
"What, how do you know my name." The fat man looked at him with lowered eyelids.
"...Well, it's on your badge," Dib pointed and the man looked surprised, as if he'd forgotten that it was there, "and we used to go to Skool together. Don't you remember me? I'm Dib."
Realization dawned on his face, something that Dib hadn't seen often on him. "Yeah I remember you, you were that freak who always hung out with that green kid." Freak. Kid.
"O-Oh, yeah. Zim." Dib rubbed the back of his head nervously as he loaded his groceries onto the conveyor belt. He hadn't thought about Zim in weeks.
"You did something with your hair, it's all different and stuff." Torque grunted, swiping his cereal across the scanner and throwing it into a bag.
"Yeah, I had it cut." It'd taken a while for him to get rid of it, but while he still spiked up some of his hair in the front, his scythe-like mohawk was almost completely gone. "You look... different too." He didn't know how to phrase how it looked like Torque had lost almost all of his muscle and had it replaced with fat.
"Yeah, coach said I've been gettin a lot stronger too." He flexed his muscles and Dib smiled weakly. "Wish you looked like this, huh. 'Says I could go to the championship, not that you'd know what that feels like."
For whatever reason, Dib was taken aback. Maybe it was because of his recent maturity growth, but he'd thought that they had gotten beyond high school. Clearly Torque hadn't. But while Dib had matured, something inside him didn't want to take the insult laying down. He wanted to make up for all the times he'd been pushed around as a kid.
"No, I wouldn't. Hey, are you still with Zita? I heard she had a baby, so I guess you wouldn't be."
Torque's eyes narrowed, and Dib laughed almost maliciously. Their eye contact remained. "Yeah, we're together. She aint got no kid."
"I wouldn't think so. We had gym class that one time, remember? From what I saw, I don't think Zita could get pregnant with you."
Something about this was relieving. So, so relieving and fresh and new. It felt good. For years he had defended his classmates and Earth against threat, but now- now it didn't matter. Because it wouldn't happen. Now was pay back time for everything he had ever gone through. And it felt good.
Torque stuttered and his face grew red with rage as he fumbled with Dib's groceries. "At least I didn't want to fuck the green kid, faggot."
Dib's eyes widened.
...Well. That was-
Dib dug his hand into his pocket and flung a fifty at the fat boy while he threw his grocery bags into the shopping cart. The spaghetti sauce cracked and spilled over the floor. "Here, keep the change."
His face was swimming. His mind was red. His hands were erratic and his heart was sweaty. Or maybe it was the other way around. Dib didn't know, Dib didn't care, Dib just wanted to go home. Start his car, put the groceries away, and go to bed. Nice and normal. Just like how it was supposed to be.
Dib didn't know how long he could last.
The white noise of his teacher's voice droned on in the background. He tapped his pen repeatedly against the desk in front of him. He probably should have been taking notes, but Dib didn't care. Next to him, a girl was texting and chewing gum. In front of him, someone was sleeping, and behind him he could hear a group of guys whispering about the sex they'd had at a recent party. Boring. Normal. If Dib was like the people around him, his family would be happy. No, not just his family, but society. Society would love him, society would worship him, society would accept him.
Rustling papers. Dib didn't like English, it was just required from him to take as a freshman. There wasn't anything to it, it was boring. Nothing new to learn, and the only things to analyze were words that were irrelevant to life. Dib liked things that were applicable to the natural world, and English was all just hypothetical. Anything could be a right answer. It was too open to interpretation. What Dib liked was cold, hard facts. Facts that could be broken down into subparts and dissected to see how the conclusion had been reached. That was a lot better than Shakespear. But sometimes, he couldn't help but feel like Yorick; buried six feet down.
"Chapter six, everybody." His teacher called out, as the class was dismissed and they began putting their books away. "Don't forget your thesis for our next class, we're going to do group work so make sure to have the first two pages of your paper finished."
The first two pages. He had already finished them. He'd finished all his work for that week after his run in with Torque. Anything he could get his hands on, he had gone through and meticulously answered every single section. It helped, because while he was busy, at least he wasn't thinking about-
"Hey, Dib." He paused, unsure if he'd heard right. But when he realized he had, Dib turned to face one of the boys that had been sitting behind him. Mark, or- something like that. "Give me your number, that way we can help each other on our papers."
What? "Well actually, I've-"
"Okay, cool. Here, give me your phone."
Was he supposed to? Dib had never exchanged numbers before. He wore all black for a reason, to be as inconspicuous as possible so that no one bothered him. But yet, his heart hammered in his chest at the idea of possibly having a-
Dib pulled his phone out of his pocket and handed it to the boy who took it and entered his number with ease. He handed it back, arm outstretched, and Dib just looked down at his hand in confusion. That was it? All it took? Social life had become so... easy.
"Just text me, and I'll give you the directions to my apartment. We can go downtown or something afterwards, you look like you know some pretty cool places to go."
He did? Dib hardly went out. But Mark didn't need to know that, and he smiled and took his phone back. "Sure. I guess I'll see you this weekend."
"Yeah man, bye." And he left with his group of friends that had been waiting.
Dib stood there in shock, phone still in hand. He had- made a friend, and it had taken absolutely nothing. Plans, he had plans. It was so normal, so average, so... surreal.
The weekend was spent pacing his apartment in a horrible mood. He didn't necessarily know why, but Dib was angry beyond belief. There was nothing to relieve his pent up anger. Before, he had tried studying elements with flash cards, but had wound up throwing them against the wall and watching them fall to the floor. In favor of creating more mess, he continued to pace.
Back and forth back and forth. There really wasn't a reason for it, he just felt incredibly stressed. What had been a good couple of months had started to deteriorate, which worsened his mood when he thought about it. It was a cycle. The more he thought, the angrier he became, which resulted in Dib thinking more. Growling, he flung himself onto his cheap couch. The seat sagged under his weight.
"Piece of shit."
Not that he wasn't to blame, as he'd gotten it at a yard sale, but it enraged him even more. Dib narrowed his eyes, and threw the book sitting next to him across the room. That had felt good. He had never been an angry person, so he didn't know exactly how to deal with it. Evidently, throwing things seemed to help. His shoe made a scud mark against the wall when he pitched it harder than the magazine. Although resulting in a satisfying thud, the mark that it left behind was enough to make him stop. Dib's shoulders sunk, and he leaned forward, face in hands.
He knew why he was angry, but he didn't want to.
His chest ached, and his mind yearned for something more. Something more than the dullness of every day life. Excitement. There was no excitement in his life anymore. Everything was gone. Everything that had ever been Dib was gone. Sure, he could dissect and hack, but it meant nothing because there was no one there to see. Dib remembered the time that he'd placed as a paranormal investigator in grade school. While the actual person himself wasn't anything at all, he'd always imagined he'd be one. Intelligent and mysterious and professional.
Dib almost felt guilty for turning out to be something he'd never imagined. Ironic, because the more boring he became, the more the outside world appreciated him. He wasn't living for himself, he was living for them. For society, for his classmates, and for his family. Not for himself, not for Zi-
The mark on the wall didn't go away, no matter how long he stared. Nothing ever went right, even his anger outlet. Maybe it was because he didn't talk to himself out loud anymore, and instead, his frustration festered inside him. Which probably wasn't good for his mental health. Dib was far past caring though; who didn't have a few problems here and there? He needed an outlet for his anger and frustration, some sort of release. Physical violence obviously didn't help, and he'd already tried studying, so what else was there? Besides... that.
...But did it matter? He was normal now, right? He was an adult, but still a teenager, and teenagers did things like- Dib sighed. The sheer fact that he debated about it showed how strange he was. He shouldn't have to debate, he shouldn't have to think about it. It was normal. There was nothing to fear, and there never had been. All he had to do was keep his thoughts away from that.
Shifting, Dib leaned back against his delapadated couch and relaxed. He breathed deeply for a while, listening to the sounds of the city out his window. There was a gentle hum of the air conditioner and the drone of his neighbor's TV. . Dib's hand slipped beneath the waistband of his pants and he closed his eyes.
It was nice. He'd forgotten how nice it was as he rubbed his palm over the front of his underwear. Someday, someone else would be doing it for him. Yes, that was a nice thought. He felt his cock stir, and Dib sighed again, adding a bit more pressure. A slow pace, no reason to rush. Deep breaths and gentle touches. Oh, that felt good, and he pulled the front of his underwear down to let his forming erection free.
The cool air against him made him exhale sharply. He wrapped his fingers around the base of his cock, imagining it to be someone else. They had no face, but they felt amazing as their hand moved up and down, teasing him. Their thumb rubbed against the vein on the underside of Dib's erection, and his hand mimicked the motion. How good it would feel for them to replace their hand with their mouth, where he would buck up into that wet heat.
Dib groaned, turning his head to the side as he moved his hand a little faster. His breath made the cushion next to him hot, and his face began to heat up the more he touched himself. Would they glide over the tip with their index finger like he was doing? Would they tighten their fist and pump him harder? Or would they pay special attention to where the head met his shaft? Dib didn't know, he honestly didn't. All he knew is that it felt good, so good. Heavenly, almost, although Dib didn't believe in such silly things. His thighs trembled as his hips began to buck up into his hand.
His erection throbbed in his hand while he made a twisting motion downward. Precum began to form at the tip as he hand moved faster. Moans dropped from his lips, soft but definitely there as his mind fogged over. Good, so good, amazing. This was what he had been needing, without a doubt. Even if it was just his hand, it was wonderful as he smeared the precum all the way down his cock. Unable to stand it any longer, his other hand joined, and he threw his head back in pleasure.
So red, his face was so red and his body was so hot and there was nothing other than heat in Dib's world. Nothing else existed other than him. But the feeling only grew, climbing up to reach a summit that he had not felt for too long, imagining the hand of someone else. It built and built, his breath hitching with each second that he grew closer to release. Tension formed in his abdomen, and furiously pumping himself, Dib came to the image of the wrong face.
Orgasm was everything and the only thing that mattered. White, hot heat and the pleasure of release. His body tensed and his hips rocked upward as cum splattered against his chest. But Dib didn't care, because euphoria was a drug. A wonderful, wonderful drug as he jerked himself to the breaking point and collapsed against the couch. His chest heaved, his hair was disheveled, and his glasses had become askew. Not that it mattered, as the only thing Dib saw was the face in his mind. Laughing. Jeering.
And suddenly, Dib was exhausted. Reaching his hands up to his head, he clung onto his hair and screamed against a pillow, not caring that his hands were covered in cum. Wrong. So wrong. Sick.
Dib would never be normal.
Dib knew something was wrong when the house was pitch black.
He called out, and stepped in inquisitively before checking his phone again. Mark had texted him to come over, and had sent a message only five minutes ago for him to come in on his own. Clicking through his messages, he found it and reread it, confirming that he hadn't read wrong.
"Mark?" Stumbling forward, Dib closed the door behind him after finding a light switch. The hallway lit up, and a noise came from an adjacent staircase. Intending to make a good impression, Dib took off his shoes by the door; his coat stayed on as always. He poked his head around the corner into the kitchen, but it was too dark to see anything. Dib shrugged to himself and started on his way up the stairs.
It must have been an old house, because the stairs creaked with each step. Although annoying, it didn't take long to reach the second story. The new hallway was dark, and Dib couldn't find a light switch to accommodate himself. A band of light fell across the floor underneath a door a couple feet ahead, and Dib assumed it was Mark's. He fell at ease, having been tentative before.
"Mark, you know, your house is pretty creepy. It's not that late, I don't know why you have all the lights off-"
Dib found the handle to the door. He turned it. It opened. Dib froze immediately.
Blood, there was blood everywhere. Splattered against the walls, the floor, and the ceiling. Bits of flesh hung off the windowsill and on laid on the floor. It looked like something had exploded. And judging from the remains of the mutilated body of his classmate on the floor, he had.
For a while, it seemed like his heart rate had completely stopped, along with time itself. Yet still, he knew he was hyperventilating. Dizzy, he was so dizzy. It was absolutely surreal. Dib didn't know what he was looking at. He could hear his heart beat in his ears, piercing the aching silence. Eyes wide, they darted around the room. He forgot to breathe. Dib had no breath. He was only aware of the lack of oxygen when a hand reached around from behind him to cover his mouth.
"Don't scream." But of course, he did.
Voice cracking, Dib shrieked. It wasn't a scream, it was a howl muffled by the hand around his mouth. There was a body behind him, but yet, Dib did not think to resist. All he knew was that he was going to die. The hand pressed harder to his mouth, accentuated by something sharp against his throat. Dib was not stupid, he knew it was a knife, but he couldn't help but to continue to scream. This didn't seem to phase the attacker, however, and they waited until his throat became hoarse and all he could do was hyperventilate through his nose. Erratic, irregular breaths.
"You are not going to die."
But that was his breaking point, and without a second thought, Dib sprinted.
He slipped against the blood on the floor, but successfully knocked the figure from behind him down long enough to lunge for the open door. Dib skidded into the hallway, mind completely blank but so sickeningly full as he stumbled down the stairs. He tripped half way down and fell the rest of the way. It hurt, it hurt so bad but he couldn't stop. The house was dark again, so dark as he picked himself up and lurched forward, fumbling desperately for the door.
No. No. No. No no nononononononononono.
Something crashed to the floor as he continued to make his way along the wall, blindly touching it for any place to hide or escape. His foot met cool tile, and he realized it must have been the kitchen where there were- Knife. He needed a knife, something to defend himself from-
Dib grabbed for a drawer, and pulled it open before jamming his hand inside. He cursed himself for his stupidity as his hand came in contact with the point of a large knife, but was beyond able to physically feel. It slipped in his grip as blood dripped off his hand. The overwhelming fear in his gut and mind told him to not stop, and to keep quiet. He had to keep quiet if he wanted to live.
Slipping slightly again, Dib made his way back to the wall where he felt along it for a door. His heart beat thudded in his chest and he threw himself into the first room he could find. Twisting the handle, he pushed the door closed silently, and curled up on the floor. There was limited space, and fabric overhead. A coat closet. He must have been close to the exit. Realizing he was sobbing, Dib immediately hushed himself. His heartbeat must have been a clear give away.
To his absolute horror, light poured underneath the door into the closet. They must have recovered, and were looking for him. With all the noise he'd made, they probably knew he was still in the house. It took all Dib had to keep from vomiting. He felt like his stomach had filled with lead. Dib tightened his grip on the knife.
There was a soft clicking outside the door. It sounded almost like pointed metal upon tile, like a dog's claws as it walked on linoleum. Dib blinked away tears when the sound grew closer, but suddenly stopped. He could hear someone breathing. Close, very close. A scratching sound. A shadow outside the doorway. The knob turned. Dib wasn't ready, but Dib held the knife. He was going to die.
What happened next happened in slow motion and a blur at the same time. Light flooded the closet as the door was opened. Dib lunged forward, knife in both hands, and sunk it deep into something fleshy. Something pierced through his shoulder, bone cracking as it came out his back, pinning him against the wall. A body dropped to the floor, and blood pooled at his feet.
Deep breaths. Irregular breaths. Dib didn't breathe at all. The figure of an elderly woman, Mark's mother, laid at his feet as Zim leaned over him, mechanical legs extending out of his Pak. The knife protruded out of her chest.
"I think you're ready to come with me, Dib."
Review if you have no idea what's going on.