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marvelstars · 1 year

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Interesting how Vader keep seing different futures until he got to the one of ROTJ and the choice he took there which was the one that became a reality.

Love how disdainful is Vader over Palpatine´s obession with weapons, he´s honestly offended in the force behalf.

#darth vader #anakin skywalker #luke skywalker #Luke always raises his father hopes even in the middle of a “lesson” from the Emperor #star wars comics #Greg Pak #The Red Horror II

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plumsworld · 2 years

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"áfával együtt valamivel több, mint 8,2 milliárd forintos keretszerződést kötött a Palkovics vezette tárca a Mangold Consulting GmbH-val – derült ki a kormány honlapjára idén július 21-én feltöltött szerződéslistából, amelyen a Momentum parlamenti képviselője, Tompos Márton is kiszúrta a kontraktust"

A pontosság kedvéért: nem Marci is kiszúrta, hanem ő volt az, aki konkrétan kiszúrta. A momentumos találatra és az arról szóló szétküldött közleményre épül ez a HVG-cikk. Ezt kivételesen azért teszem szóvá, mert július 19-én ugyanez a szerző írt egy cikket a HVG-n azzal a címmel, hogy "Ezért baj, hogy az ellenzék nem létezik", azt állítva, hogy az ellenzék nincs jelen a tüntetéseken. A Momentumra vagy a Kutyákra ez biztosan nem igaz. Az ellenzékkel összességében sok gond van, nekünk is vannak erről önkritikus posztjaink (lásd Donáth Anna cikksorozatát), de a tényekhez azért ragaszkodjunk.

#politika #klaus mangold #paks ii.#innovációs és technológiai minisztérium (itm)#keretszerződés

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pakwahidun · 16 days

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New Collection

Awek Ii Indo Cantik

Yg berminat nk join grp tele saya boleh pm, BAYARAN SEKALI SEUMUR HIDUP 🤩🤩😍. Harga cuma bawah 100 sahaja.

Benefits : Dapat semua collection yg terdahulu, terkini dan yg akan dtg, vid boleh save and share, free group backup 🔥🔥.

Sangat recommended kepada yg minat collection local dan indo

Pm tele saya @Benimaru7, Pak Wahid

#biniorang #budaknakal #bontot #melayucantik #melayu sedap #muka sedap #pepek tembam #pepek #pepeksedap #tudung bogel

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ms-scarletwings · 8 months

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This Single Oversight Will Bring Irken-Kind to Its Knees

I have a little riddle for you.

What does an ant nest, a computer, and the ancient city of Troy have in common?

While you ponder the significance of this question and consider your answer, there’s a few things I want to analyze about the worldbuilding of Invader Zim.

We may have heard it said before, least I have (and agree), that the fate of the IZ universe appears to be a rather bleak picture.

Through our lens of focus, being upon Earth and an oh-so specific nutball waging his battle upon humanity, we often don’t do as much thinking about the larger cosmic war taking place meanwhile. Not between the Meekrob and Tenn, not between the Tallest and every dumb luck threat they are thrown against, but between the Irken Armada and all life in the entire universe, sentient or not.

Their intentions will not be made any more clear, between outright eradication or eventual enslavement of every lifeform they set their sights on. While they have alliances and neutral treaties, those agreements seem few and far between, as well as born from temporary conveniences. The cards have already been dealt, and all available evidence has indicated that every planet they are aware of is doomed from the moment The Massive was operational.

Though littered with inefficiencies and incompetency that could suggest an empire in internal decline, the development of the control brains and other centralized command crutches of the species suggests the Irkens can still keep a well oiled machine running, no matter how many mishaps happen along the way. At least, that machine and their plundered resources will definitely outlast the survival of their enemies, for sure.

To speak of their enemies, there has not been a single competitive race within the show that demonstrates any credible threat to Operation Impending Doom II- only those that can resist the conquest a little bit longer than others, or those who survive by appeasing Irk (or evading its detection). The fall of Vort, which stood as the homeworld of the only aliens with the technological ability to match the armada’s firepower is…. Really bad news. That’s to say the least of comparatively primitive, TINY planets like Earth or Blorch, standing zero chance in the way of what’s eventually coming. This is a war that has continued despite the death of two.. FOUR Almighty Tallests if you follow the movie’s events… and Irkens wholly are still thriving for it across the Galaxy.

So, given all of these facts, and the perception that the Irkens (like any invasive species or colonial force) don’t seem to be a society that will make responsible and/or sustainable use of their ill-gotten territory… it seems like this is how life across the universe ends in Invader Zim one day: Not with a bang, not with the whimper of heat death, but through screams muffled under the bloody boots of a dominant predator- a predator that is, itself, doomed to cannibalize its own once it hits the carrying capacity of all existence.

Bleak, concrete, and horrific as that may sound, there’s still a “however” here to consider!

Yep, that’s me about to point one of my big fat fingers to the sky and protest- Irk just might be,

Not so Undefeatable, after all!

And not only have I figured out exactly what sort of countermeasure you need to destroy these invaders, I have reason to suspect it’s a plan already long ago set into motion.

Let’s break it down,

An Irksome Achilles’ Heel

True, individually, the bug bastards are irritatingly tough to kill through conventional means. True, collectively, they are nigh impossible to outmatch. And more than most anything else, they owe this tenacity to two things: numbers, and R&D. Possessing some of most state of the art pinnacles in transportation, communications, and military equipment, the Armada found a knack for being able to steamroll most lesser planets before it.

The genius of the individual PAK unit grants each and any one Irken a theoretical path to partial immortality itself, by route of consciousness archiving. I strongly believe that kind of cybernetic progress was also one of the stepping stones that led to the creation of the Control Brains. Nonetheless, this very same strength of the Irkens’ has also proven to be the source of their greatest vulnerability.

Paks, Paks… Oh Paks. The entire race’s civilization revolves around such technology the way we do around our own brains, our own hearts, and our communicative network. For all intents and purposes, and as I’ve gone on about ad nauseum in my other spills about the show, a PAK is all and at once

• Synonymous with the holder of their soul, consciousness, being, whatever you want to call their personhood.

• Able to have their data repurposed by future generations, in the result of an Irken’s permanent death.

• A universal necessity shared by the entire population.

• Susceptible to alterations, sometimes by intelligent enough individuals (as demonstrated by the Zimvoid comic arc), but usually by a Control Brain, directly.

In addition to that last quality, there’s another way the code in a PAK can be changed, for better or worse- Via evolution. Though I am talking about digitized neurology, the actual data in a PAK is a lot more comparable to biological DNA or a “self-learning” AI than it is a rigid computer program. By this, I mean that its code is subject to certain changes over time, perhaps both directed and completely random, particularly during the recycling of its information back into the Smeeteries.

And this is actually good design on the control brains’ part, the same way not reproducing Irkens as genetically identical clones was. Genetic and digital diversity are desirable goals to keep in mind if you want a healthy and versatile stock of workers, engineers, soldiers, and everything in between. We’re talking about highly sentient, highly intelligent, and emotional organisms here. A static drone mindset is going to offer them inadequate ability to adapt to their lengthy life experiences or be unique persons. How else would social mobility have purpose in their world? How else could the cream of the crop rise so far above their peers? That positive was deemed worthy of an obvious risk, however: computational errors.

When the Bugs Get Bugs

IZ does not clearly lay out what it means for an Irken to be defective, but it gives us a general idea. Defectiveness is not something diagnosed from a code scan for this missing value or that incorrect variable. It’s not judged by one specific character trait or quality that’s abnormal for an Irken to display. “Defective” is a judgement stamp, wielded by the Control Brains when they gauge the total sum value of a life’s contribution to the species. And it’s not one given to Irkens which are merely incompetent, no. Anyone proven to be unfit for their standing is given generous opportunity for redemption or simply reassigned a more suitable occupation. If it were based on likability, we’d have seen Skoodge sent to Judgementia years ago.

Rather, it’s given to those who are viewed as so twisted that they are proven to be an existential danger to their brethren. Irkens that are so destructive to the essence of the collective that their memory must be purged from the record and their identity erased.

I adore the enthusiasm behind fans who want to view this as an analogy for disability or neurodivergence against a conformist society, but the metaphor I’m seeing is one of extreme antisocial behavior. A defective Irken screams less “adhd/autism” to me than they do serial murderers (of their own) or outright traitors. Pardon the use of a gross phrase, but it’d seem we were talking about an Irken equivalent of what the outdated gens would have dubbed the “criminally insane”. No one on screen has ever shown Skoodge or Tak the sort of concern that would get them sent to the Spike of Judgement, but when Zim was in that hot seat? NO one was doubting what his verdict would be.

^ courtesy of “The Trial’s” transcript

I think about the 40 shmillion mistakes a lot.

It’s such a vague quantity. But it sure sounds like a hell of a big one. And what mistakes… what did the lil squirt even have to compare them to? There’s no standard one person an Irken can be. Every presentation of the flaws in that code to the control brains hasn’t ended up a flaw to him.

I only started writing this because I really couldn’t stop thinking about the 40 shmillion. There’s no chronological room for bad self-modding to add up to that so quickly. DNA replication, nature’s own sloppy and random process of creating new life, can be excused around 120,000 hiccups when duplicating with a 6 billion pair-long protein. But this kind of shuffling is under a futuristic AI’s precise eye. Yes, defects happen, but as bad as him? From birth??? How could you possibly get that many detrimental deviations from the mechanical fucking god-queen(s) of their entire homeworld?

And then it hit me.

You don’t. Not from Irk.

The hot take I’ve been charging for this entire time is thus.

Zim is not defective by any random accident. In fact, I smell the tampering of foreign sabotage.

Not only is this guy the thing his kind fears more than any else, they have every right to be shaking in their stance.

That puzzle i posed at the beginning of this journey, have you seen what I’ve seen yet?

Because the answer I was looking for as to what similarity connects an anthill, a PC, and a city from Greek legend was a most effective tactic for taking them down.

Do you know the best way to deal with a bad ant infestation? Cuz you can lay down all the raid and crushing action you want, but you won’t really be getting anywhere unless you target the pests directly at their queen. To that end, liquid ant baits are marvelous inventions- a sweet substance hiding a small amount of slow acting poison. Poison to be peacefully delivered by the stomach of an ant to the rest of her colony, poisoning her kin, who sicken more members, on and on until the queen is destroyed and the entire nest perishes. An insidious toxin to do all the work while its user never lifts a finger, pretty ingenious.

And when it comes to computers, we also have ways to attack entire networks at source, from quietly and far away. “Trojan” was a category of malware responsible for 64.31% of all cyber attacks on Windows systems in 2022, and they still make up a majority of active malware hits today. The concept is deviously simple. The malicious code is hidden within an innocent looking program, maybe even within a legitimate software that does what it’s supposed to. Once the stowaway is invited into the system, it can get down to it some sneaky, nasty, destructive work on your device. As for what those acts could look like, well, malware exists to do all kinds of things. Mostly something involving trying to get money/information from you or hijacking your computer for whatever its creator wants to use it for. And some of them will just up and wreck your shit, disable your antivirus software to open you up to more infections, disable important operations, wipe your data. Use your imagination.

And as for Troy.. well, where do you think Trojan programs got their name? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

So, Irkens have their Armada, bionic drones, and homeworld- in other words, the thriving swarm of army ants, the billions to trillions of computers they so rely on, and their nigh untouchable fortress, always at war.

And some damn crafty bastard(s) in the stars said

“Here is their sugar-bait,”

“Here is their cyber attack,”

“Here is their wooden horse.”

And one particular race is going to be getting the last laugh before long.

Nerds That Are GOATed With the Sauce

That’s right, I thought about this all the way through to finding our prime suspect. And let me tell you, NO ONE in the Galaxy reeked of fish like the Vortians did. Get over here and lemme show you my whiteboard with all the red circles and polaroids on it.

- The Means

In a way of tragic irony, Vort has contributed more than any else to the same Irken conquest that turned on them in the end. A natural talent for cutting edge engineering and technical development actually does not seem to be what Irk already came into the ring with. For how mighty and superior they view themselves, the greatest achievements of their military can actually be owed to Vortian outsourcing. When we would have gotten a look at Tallest Miyuki’s very own “finest minds” during her reign, notice something interesting about these guys below,

Zim there is the ONLY Irken to be found! Yes, transferred there because of the punchline explanation of ‘he breaks everything he touches so maybe he’ll have an affinity for weapons research’ but damn right he actually did! And still does; I don’t want it to go unsaid that Zim has shown MUCH more technological skill and innovation than near any other Irken we’ve seen.

Another fun thing to note about this is that Lard Nar was also part of this lineup, and in the transcript he was in the process of working on the blueprints for The Massive. (which leaves you with the cursed knowledge that Zim, Prisoner 777, and Lard were all familiar coworkers long before the events of the show) And that brings me back to what I’m saying about the real reason the Vort natives were enslaved and imprisoned instead of outright sweeped after conquering. The Armada needs their skills, because Vortian advancement is something their own scientists couldn’t come close to. Left to their own devices, Vort could have easily outmatched them at an earlier point in history. It’s a people that figured out infinite power sources and potentially wormhole technology, while PAKs were something a disfigured human tween with a lot of time on his hands was able to crack. If anyone could outpace and outsmart the defensive measures of the Control Brains, it’s going to be them. And what better, cleaner way to sabotage the enemy than from within.

The very same strings of inserted code that cursed Zim with his delusions, paranoia, lust for destruction, and horrible tactics may also have blessed him with a determination and intellect higher than almost any creature alive. The saboteur gave Irk the most powerful racecar in history, and then fitted it with bicycle brakes. No matter how hard Zim tries to conform to what will give him admiration, no matter how competent he is at keeping himself alive, it’s as if he is instinctually compelled toward whatever actions will cause the MOST damage to his allies in the process. Dib may think he’s the bulwark against the invasion when, ironically, he’s fighting against the one being that’s predetermined to be the arrow that strikes Irken leadership right in their dumb, green heels. (There is also an instance in the comics where Dib figures out that Zim is the ace in the hole for total Irken eradication but that’s another fun story.)

Oh, oh HO HO, and that’s only what he’s capable of doing before the empire’s actual immune system against defects like him wakes up and notices!

Three planetary blackouts, two dead generals, and a whole swath of dead invaders was just the fucking warm up, babey! All that is merely the kind of loud disruption that you need in order to fulfil the real thing this Trojan horse exists for in the first place.

What a celebration of hubris the Spike of Judgement was. Yeah, let’s take our method of filtering the corrupted data from the hive mind, and completely centralize it on a single planet! As well, let’s have the very purging agents also be the same ones to perform the evaluations themselves, I’m sure that it would be unthinkable for any outsider to design a worm that could make it through the brains’ firewalls. Goddamn spectacular. Like inserting an infected USB into your laptop, the Tallest never realized what kind of beast they woke up by plugging that PAK into the Spike’s mainframes. Those brains were meant to handle an expected spectrum of deviation when it came to defective Irkens, never a sleeper virus of this complexity.

From here it probably won’t even matter if Zim survives much longer on Earth, his virus has already spread to the very thing relied upon to keep things like him out of the data pool in the first place. With the Judgementia brains corrupted and no higher authority to overrule them, the firewall is effectively broken, and you know what that means? Bigger cracks for future defectives to start trickling through, both spontaneous and artificial. The ideal scenario is one where a degenerating and glitched population accelerates the incompetency of the empire to the point where it just implodes on itself; nevertheless, even a disease that only slows down Operation Doom could be a game changer, by giving the rest of the little guys more time to band together a coalition strong enough to strike back when the time is right.

- The Motive

The history of these two races’ alliance is something I lament us not having more lore to pull from- how far back it goes, what the character of the Vort was like during that time, what the Irkens had offered in return- a few among dozens of questions it rears. The implication behind how it ended lies in Zim’s creation that slayed Tallest Miyuki. Interestingly, the Empire never received the memo of what exactly went down, or, perhaps, stubbornly denied the account of the other scientists who were there that day. Neither Red/Purple nor the Judgmentia Brains had any idea that Zim’s actions led to the death of a Tallest. So, makes sense that the Vortians became the unintentional scapegoat (no pun intended) for the incident, and the rest is history.

Note: It’s also in the realm of possibility that Vort was actually the one to withdraw from the alliance instead, given that the same blob that devoured Miyuki (purely the fault of their Irken transfer) also went on to cause untold amounts of devastation. Red’s reaction to the real story stuck out to me as more telling, although.

But why am I even talking about this? Zim was decades old before war was declared on them, and either people’s regard to each other seemed strangely… respectful, if anything.

But, was Vort really a monolithic bunch? Irk was already an empire by this point, and diplomacy with those they needed something from did not mean they weren’t otherwise an aggressive force in the universe. For all we know, the alliance itself might have been coerced, or result of depraved leadership among the Vortians. Any citizen with a conscience who could see the writing on the walls would be disgusted by giving so much aid and brown nosing to such a menace, no? I know who would have seen that writing before anyone else. Brainiacs who are smart enough to build something like The Massive and all its bells and whistles would know better than anyone just what it was all capable of in the wrong hands. The collateral damage against your own people might be a sacrifice worth making in the face of the alternative.

- The Oppurtunity

So.. that’s all well and good, yeah? A why, and a what, yet this is actually the tricky part of saving the galaxy,

Sneaking your StupidifyIrk.exe file onto the assholes’ homeworld without alerting either them or your own treacherous, weak, collaborator superiors to your actions. Infecting and releasing a random Irken alive would be far too dangerous, far too noticeable to the point where they could just be destroyed outright before given a chance to wreak real havoc.

But what about releasing a dead Irken? 🤔

PAKs are only screened for criminal flaws when errors begin to affect their body’s behaviors in destructive ways. A fully competent scientist, or soldier, or navigator performing a lifetime of loyal service to the empire and then meeting an unfortunate end? Their minds’ shadows can be accepted back into the data pool no questions asked. That’s only business as usual.

That almost makes new smeets something of a reincarnation of their ancestors. Personally, I see it kind of like replaying a video game and re-rolling your stats, even if you’re reusing your character’s name and general play style.

Either way, we come full circle to my theory about Zim’s actual origin. Maybe not “our” Zim, but the previous iteration of data that was shuffled to create his person. Whoever they were, I’m convinced that they were also an exceptional individual. They were probably pretty arrogant, but it was a more earned confidence, and they were a prodigy genius, the likes of which that was drawn to work alongside Vortian allies, as another researcher. Then, an untimely demise befell them. I couldn’t say they fell victim to some unfortunate accident, considering the cockroach durability of their body. No, I find it a lot easier to imagine they met their end in one of the more embarrassing ways for an Irken to die- A PAK stolen, disabled or forcefully detached by an assailant they might have allowed a little closer than they should have. To the homeworld, it’s a small matter. One more PAK recovered by the natives of the friendly planet, brought back home to be repurposed by the smeeteries, right?

Well, that’s what one smartass might have been hoping for.

And they really were a clever cookie, because that scheming seed is fruiting beautifully.

#invader zim #iz #vortian #irkens #invader zim headcanon #iz headcanons #planet Vort #scarlet talks about things #sci fi #long post #absolute ramblings i mean holy crap #longass post

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cellystars · 2 years

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More of this lovely AU! I wanted to draw PAK legs for a while now!

(AU by @l-ii-zz!)

#Invader Zim #Zim #Gir #Zim and Gir #Space Junk AU #cellystars

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somerabbitholes · 14 days

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Books you would recommend on this topic? Colonial, post colonial, and Cold War Asia are topics that really interest me. (Essentially all of the 1900s)

Hello! An entire century is huge and I don't quite know what exactly you're looking for, but here we are, with a few books I like. I've tried organising them, but so many of these things bleed into each other so it's a bit of a jumble

Cold War

1971 by Srinath Raghavan: about the Bangladesh Liberation War within the context of the Cold War, US-Soviet rivalry, and the US-China axis in South Asia

Cold War in South Asia by Paul McGarr: largely focuses on India and Pakistan, and how the Cold War aggravated this rivalry; also how the existing tension added to the Cold War; also the transition from British dominance to US-Soviet contest

Kennedy, Johnson, and the Nonaligned World by Robert B. Rakove: on the US' ties with the Nonaligned countries during decolonisation and in the early years of the Cold War; how US policy dealt with containment, other strategic choices etc

South Asia's Cold War by Rajesh Basrur: specifically about nuclear buildup, armament and the Indo-Pak rivalry within the larger context of the Cold War, arms race, and disarmament movements

Colonialism

India's War by Srinath Raghavan: about India's involvement in World War II and generally what the war meant for South Asia politically, economically and in terms of defense strategies

The Coolie's Great War by Radhika Singha: about coolie labour (non-combatant forces) in the first World War that was transported from India to battlefronts in Europe, Asia and Africa

Unruly Waters by Sunil Amrith: an environmental history of South Asia through British colonial attempts of organising the flow of rivers and the region's coastlines

Underground Revolutionaries by Tim Harper: about revolutionary freedom fighters in Asia and how they met, encountered and borrowed from each other

Imperial Connections by Thomas R. Metcalf: about how the British Empire in the Indian Ocean was mapped out and governed from the Indian peninsula

Decolonisation/Postcolonial Asia

Army and Nation by Steven Wilkinson: a comparative look at civilian-army relations in post-Independence India and Pakistan; it tries to excavate why Pakistan went the way it did with an overwhelmingly powerful Army and a coup-prone democracy while India didn't, even though they inherited basically the same military structure

Muslim Zion by Faisal Devji: a history of the idea of Pakistan and its bearing on the nation-building project in the country

The South Asian Century by Joya Chatterji: it's a huge book on 20th century South Asia; looks at how the subcontinental landmass became three/four separate countries, and what means for history and culture and the people on the landmass

India Against Itself by Sanjib Baruah: about insurgency and statebuilding in Assam and the erstwhile NEFA in India's Northeast. Also see his In the Name of the Nation.

I hope this helps!

#anonymous #answered #book recs #india #south asia #historyblr

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n64retro · 6 months

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Back in the 90s, the First Person Shooter genre was not in the center of the games industry yet. Gamers and mostly the Japanese market and developers were busily full of fighting games, RPGs, run and gun, adventures and platformers. It is common sense to say that the N64 was partially responsible for popularizing the FPS genre in the second half of the 90s, a genre that would explode just a few years in the future with Xbox and Microsoft's major franchise: the Halo series. On the 64 bit era, GoldenEye 007 set the landmark for what a shooter for home console could be. Turok 2: Seeds of Evil and the N64's Expansion Pak showed us what looked like a PC game running on a cartridge. Quake and Quake II are both competent conversions, being the latest almost an entire new game. 007: The World is Not Enough had several features and sometimes looked a cross-gen title with very competent presentation, made by the same team that did Duke Nukem 3D for the N64. Perfect Dark, for its turn, is absolutely the pinacle of tecnhical mastery in crafting games for its visual achievments, memorable single player and infinite possibilities in the combat simulator, or multiplayer. Doom 64 is now a cult classic but it is the same that it was: a very good and frantic game as well as very atmospheric experience in the mid 90s. It is interesting to note that no Japanese developer appears in this poll, illustrating the beginning movement for an era of more western oriented developers and games, which was the core of N64 most prominent games, aside from the ones developed by Nintendo themselves. At that moment, late 90s to early 2000s, the game's most successful franchises were from Japan. Years ahead, with the success of the Xbox 360 and PC Games with Steam and so, most powerful franchises are now Western or more western oriented. That scenario was kind of anticipated on the N64: it was a platform heavily based on games made by Western developers, aside those from Nintendo themselves and a few other exceptions. So, for this week's poll, we want to find out what is the best FPS for the Nintendo 64. From Iguana Entertainment and Eurocom to the absolute masters from id Software, passing off course by the mythical Rare, for sure the N64 was the best home console available at least for FPS games back then.

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izakiisdead · 1 year

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Festive Love.

ii Reader isnt actually mute but prefers to not speak but reader has very expressive face expressions.

ii He only speaks when needed, if not then he’ll be quiet.

a/n : HELP I TRIED WRITING A MAKE OUT SESSION AND ITS SO TRASH (MIGHT UPDATE ON IT)

Cw: not proofread :’3, semi nsfw at the end,

im so insecure abt this oneshot man HELP…

Requested by : Nobody

Genre : Short make out sesh in the end (NSFW maybe ?)

Naruto Uzumaki x Silent!Male Reader

(Part 1)Wake Up M/n !!

*RINGGGG*

You groaned at the sound of your alarm while trying to stop it from ringing like a bitch but end up falling off the bed.

“Tch… ouch” You got up and rubbed your head. You looked at the clock and it’s 6:30 am. You stared at the intimate object as you put it back at it’s original place and got back into bed. “Just 5 more minutes….” You groggily said before dozing off.

Timeskip “5 minutes later” (9 hours later)

*KNOCK* *KNOCK* *KNOCK*

“(M/N) SANNNNN OPEN THE DOORR !!!!” Naruto yell as loud as he can, hoping you would hear him. “Maybe we’ll just wait for him?” Sakura suggested. “It’s no use !! its been 9 hours !! He’s such a heavy sleeper.” Naruto replied. Sai was standing beside Sakura while nodding at him. “Its already almost 4 pm !” Naruto added as he puffed his cheeks in annoyance.

“Is (M/n) always this late ?” Sai calmly asked. “Well.. not really but today he seem to be taking a while to get up, I wonder what’s going on.” Sakura responded. Naruto was starting to grow impatient of the silent male and thought of an idea. “Let’s pick on the locks !!” He said with a mischievous smile.

*PAK*

“NO NARUTO.” Sakura smacked his head. “Agh ! That hurts Sakura chan !” Naruto winced. “Serves you right. We are ninjas not an intruder !” Sakura responded.

You were up in your room watching the whole show go down outside, sneaking in some silent chuckles. You actually woke up 3 hours ago but decided to skip practice because you were mentally exhausted.

You finished getting dressed and decided to go out by using the window instead of the door because why not ? You opened the window and jumped out of it; while doing so you tried to close the windows as fast as you could. You sneak up behind the three and acted as if you were there the whole time.

You tapped on Naruto’s shoulders to get his attention. “GAHHH A MONSTER !!!” You frowned at his words. “S-sorry (M/n) I thought it was a mons— HOW DID YOU GET HERE ?!?!” You let out a silent chuckle.

“Since we’re all here now we should get going—-”

“You missed practice today (M/n)” Sai cuts Naruto off. “He was wondering where you are, so am I. I’m glad you’re not hurt (M/n).” He added, chuckling a little then smile at you. You chuckled back at him while nodding at his statement.

“[Im sorry I wont let that happen again]” You signed with a smile. Sai was a little confused but Sakura helped him understand what you’re trying to say.

Naruto saw how your face lits up a little when you and Sai we’re talking. ‘W-what’s this feeling inside me..’ He thought to himself.

Naruto, without thinking held your hand; startling you. Your eye’s widen at the blonde boy’s action but you allowed his hand to intertwine with yours.

You turned to look at the pouting blondie.

“Ah ! Lets get going shall we ? Time wont wait for us will it ?” Sai said as he was staring into the abyss while you and Sakura nodded. Naruto, is still pouting. You smiled at him then tapped his shoulders.

He noticed you tapped his shoulders then lends you his ear. “Lets get going Naruto kun” you whispered into his ears; causing him to fluster up. Yes, he has heard your voice multiple times yet it still flusters him because you rarely use it and your voice sounds like whispers from an angel, enough to make a guy like him melt over it.

The both of you noticed how Sai and Sakura are already ahead of you two. Naruto held your hand a little tighter then sprints towards them, dragging you as well. It took you a while to catch up with Naruto’s pace.

The four of you are supposed to be heading to a festival after practice but of course you weren’t at practice but you still went with them. You’re going because you’re not going to miss out on good snacks they have at the festival.

(Part 2 Festival time !)

The four of you arrived right on time, the walk took the four of you around 2 hours.

You are on Naruto’s back because you were getting a little tired.

You got off Naruto’s back and gave him a bow as a ‘thank you’. “[thanks for letting me ride your back ! You’re extremely strong Naruto !]” You signed as you gave him a closed eye smile, he blushed seeing your adorable smile.

“N-no problem ! Anything for my boyfriend!! Or m-maybe future husband?” Your face reddens when you heard the last few sentences. You held his hands while trying to hide your embarrassed face.

“Awh ! Look at you two !! Now hurry up or we’ll leave you two.” Your body stiffness when you heard Sakura’s voice change. Sai nodded as he crosses his arms with a smile.

“We’re fine here !! We can just move at our pace ! You two go without us !” Naruto yelled with a wide smile. Sakura smiled at you two before leaving you two be.

[Sakura and Sai arent in a relationship, they’re just friends. Sakura is just helping him out incase things gets awkward for him]

As the two of you are now alone, Naruto picked you up bridal style and went to a more hidden place.

He gently places you down, not wanting to hurt you. “N-naruto..” he can feel his pants tent up from the sound of your voice. He ignored it. His face reddens and without thinking he kissed you.

The two of you were slowly adjusting into it. He slid his tongue into your mouth and explored the wet caverns of your mouth. He then pulled away to let you breathe since you were getting a little breathless. “(M/n)… may I continue?” He asked as he pulled you closer to which you nodded. He continued kissing your lovely lips while holding your hands and caressing it at the same time.

Despite his energetic personality, he’s very slow and gentle when it comes to this kind of stuff. He made sure you were comfortable during the whole make out session.

He took a break from kissing your lips so he can appreciate the other kissable spots of your body such as you neck, your cheeks, your forehead, your hands and etc (wink wonk *JOKING*)

“(M/n). I. love. you.” He said in a playful yet low voice in between kisses. You nuzzled at his neck while hugging him. “I love you too.” You said in a whisper like tone. Your breath hits his neck as you speak, making him fluster up.

“(M/n) sweetie, let’s continue this make out session behind closed doors shall we” You blushed at the male’s statement. You shyly nodded. Naruto was swooned by how cute you are then proceeded to pick you up then planted little kisses on your skin.

“Cmon honey, we got a festival to go to!” He said in his usual happy tone. You laughed at the male’s antics as you planted a small kiss on his cheeks. “Hey ! Sneaking a kiss on me huh ?” He kissed you as he was chuckling. “I love your kisses (M/n)” he holds you closer.

You guys took so long, the fireworks have already fired up.

The two of you watched the fireworks while enjoying eachother’s company. Naruto held you closer as your were focused on the fireworks.

-FIN

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usafphantom2 · 3 months

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How the Blue Angels convinced Tom Cruise to make the movie "Top Gun"

Fernando Valduga By Fernando Valduga 05/02/2024 - 00:03in Demonstration Squads, History, Military

It's hard to imagine a world without the Top Gun movie. Aviation lovers watch at least once a year, despite the banality of the 80s, because the flight scenes are as cool now as they were more than 30 years ago. The best talents were hired to ensure a successful production, but the star of the film needed to be convinced by the Blue Angels to finally decide to become Maverick.

In another fantastic interview with Ryan Notthaft on Blue Angel Phantoms on YouTube, the Blue Angel pilot who piloted Tom Cruise, Curt "Griz" Watson, talks about his experience.

youtube

When reading the script alone, Cruise didn't find it funny. He was a serious actor who was still standing out, and there was a lot of apprehension about how the audience would receive an aviation film. Because the truth is that no aviation movie was really a big box office success before Top Gun.

But the producers knew they had a winner. They considered Top Gun as "Star Wars on Earth", inspired by a story years earlier in California Magazine. But Cruise initially did not share his vision, nor did many producers before Paramount. They had no real characters or stories, just cool jets.

"When I first read it, I thought they had a very limited story and script," Cruise recalled in an old behind-the-scenes article about the production of the film, which you can watch at this link. "I thought so, I don't know about it."

In a final desperate attempt to convince Cruise to join, producer Jerry Bruckheimer called Navy Admiral Peter Garrow, asking Cruise of the Navy to convince him to make the film. Garrow, of course, called the Blues Angels with the orders.

Grizz exceeded Cruise's expectations very well on the team's No. 7 jet, an A-4 Skyhawk. With a bag full of vomit, Cruise was hooked and his love affair with aviation began. When he landed he walked to the nearest public phone, called Bruckheimer and said "I do this".

But he was not satisfied only with the flight on the A-4 of the Blue Angels. After all, Mav is an F-14 Tomcat pilot. So Cruise requested flight time on the F-14 as part of his character's development. What made perfect sense. Cruise even put this in his contract. The producers and the Navy happily accommodated him.

youtube

His first F-14 flight also hit him in the head. Your pilot, indicative of call Bozo, put him in a difficult situation. You can watch the interview above about some of these flights, or better yet, watch the video here where Cruise and Bozo talk about it.

He loved piloting the F-14 so much that he even told his pilots "let's film these scenes and then tear everything apart. I'll evaluate you about who is the best driver." Each pilot wanted to know how his other pilots fared and then competed to see who could kick Tom's ass harder.

Cruise has been in love with flying since then. He is now a talented pilot, certified for various types of aircraft. He also owns a World War II P-51 Mustang fighter.

Source: AvGeekery

Tags: Blue AngelsDouglas A-4 SkyhawkHISTORYTop GunUSN - United States Navy/U.S. Navy

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Fernando Valduga

Aviation photographer and pilot since 1992, he has participated in several events and air operations, such as Cruzex, AirVenture, Dayton Airshow and FIDAE. He has works published in specialized aviation magazines in Brazil and abroad. He uses Canon equipment during his photographic work in the world of aviation.

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captain-price-unofficially · 2 days

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German WWII-era 7.5cm PaK 40 anti-tank gun. With 23,303 examples produced, the Pak 40 formed the backbone of German anti-tank guns for the later part of World War II, mostly in towed form, but also on a number of self propelled artillery such as the Marder series.

#wwii #us army armor and cavalry collection

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flight-128 · 7 months

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Ho-Sung Pak & Daniel Pesina

during the making of

Mortal Kombat II in 1993

#mortal kombat 2 #mk2 #mortal kombat #1990 #videogame #fighting games #liu kang #ho-sung pak #daniel pesina #scorpion #subzero #ed boon

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thatonegeekygirl · 1 year

Text

Makin' My Way Downtown (A Spacejunk AU Invader Zim Fanfic)

as promised an unfortunate amount of time ago, here is a more-long-then-originally-intended and somewhat convoluted fanfiction for @l-ii-zz's spacejunk au! i strongly suggest checking her page out before reading this so you can get a sense of where the chracters are at--and also meet her iz oc, Urania! basic storyline, zim, dib and gir head out for a nice afternoon at a mooga mart on Quanax. banter is exchanged, absurd amounts of snacks are bought, zims past comes back to bite him, general shenanigens occur. zadf, adult dib, and lots of made-up space language.

here’s the link the the space junk au masterpost:

now, on to the fic!!

The Poltergeist cruised through space, its hull glinting in the light from a nearby star. Operating systems hummed their content song. Little bits of rock bumped against the solar windshield, not even leaving a scratch. Scanners sweeped back and forth, a vigilant eye for enemy vessels or heavenly bodies, alert and attuned. Meticulous. Serene. Controlled.

Unlike the beings found inside it.

“GIR!” Zim shrieked for the umpteenth time that day. “Cease that infernal noise and get over here!”

The little robot ignored him.

Zim sighed deeply. “...Urania.”

“GIR, come along,” the ship's AI ordered.

“Comin’ ship lady!” GIR called cheerfully, dropping the two metal rods he’d been banging together and skipping over to the console. He jumped into Zim’s lap and Zim growled once before tucking GIR in beside him in the pilot seat.

“Dib, make sure we don’t run into an asteroid, if you would.” Zim transferred command of the ship to Dib’s control pad. “GIR, give me your leg.”

“No promises,” Dib clipped. “Where’re we going again?”

“No, GIR, the other leg!” Zim groaned, as GIR threw his normal appendage in the air. “Urgh, Dib, weren’t you listening?”

“Nope,” Dib said frankly.

“Insufferable,” Zim muttered. He grasped GIR’s replacement leg and drew a multi-use tool from his PAK. He began tightening the connection between the leg and GIR’s metal shell. “We are going to planet Quanax in the Froogl system, as I told you before.”

“What are we going there for?” Dib asked, eyeing a particularly big piece of space junk as it floated past them.

“If you must know, it is the site for the largest Mooga Mart in the galaxy! Which you would know, if you paid any attention, Dib,” Zim scorned. He dropped GIR’s leg, and GIR happily settled into the seat, kicking his legs with glee.

“Mooga Mart?” Dib snickered. “What the hell is a Mooga Mart?”

“It’s a Mooga Mart.” Zim blinked at him. Upon realizing the human required more explanation, he groaned and continued. “Mega Mart is fine. Mega Mega Mart is better. Mega Mega Mega Mart is better than that. Extra Mega Mart is better than that. Extremely Fantastic Mart is eh. And Mooga Mart is the best! For Irk’s sake, how long have you been in space!?”

“Apparently not long enough to learn about the different levels of Mart,” Dib commented, grinning to himself as Zim rather seriously puzzled over Dib’s lack of knowledge of Mooga Marts. “What’s a Mooga Mart got anyway?” “Irken products!” Zim declared, tossing a finger into the air. “All the Irken products!”

“Gee.” Dib raised his eyebrows. “How come we haven’t gone to one before? Considering they’ve got all the Irken products.”

“Well. We’ve never traveled close to one before.” Zim shrugged. “Oh!” He pointed to the screen, which now displayed a flashing icon that looked distinctly like a mini-Woolmart. “We’ve arrived!”

“Urania, set auto-approach,” Dib said, flicking the main engines off.

“Oh, certainly, Captain.” Urania’s invisible touch guided the ship towards the planet.

“...I honestly can’t tell if that was sarcastic or not,” Dib muttered.

“Ha!” Zim grinned impishly. “Why, Dib, she is so obviously serious! You are the Captain, the King, the Big Kahuna, Our All-Powerful Leader, the Bulk Bag of Cheddar Cheese–”

“Christ, I get the point!” Dib swiped a hand at Zim’s face.

The Poltergeist swerved around ringed planets of various colors, ducked beneath a massive freighter ship, and joined the line of spacecraft easing their way into Quanax’s atmosphere.

“GIR, see that fast food mascot?” Zim gestured to an obnoxious sign featuring a bulbous alien creature with an absurdly large head, holding a seeping burger-like object and declaring, ‘EAT THIS FOOD!!’ in bubble letters. He wrapped an arm around GIR’s shoulders and threw a hand into the air. “His head is nearly as big as Dib’s!”

GIR ooo’d loudly as a cackling Zim scrambled away from Dib’s second strike.

“Remind me again why I hang out with you?” Dib asked in exasperation, glaring at Zim as the alien shifted smugly back into his chair.

“Aw, you love me.” Zim smirked.

“My mistake.”

Urania, ignoring them, guided the ship into a docking port, and dropped it somewhat abruptly on its landing stilts.

“Yeagh!” Zim spluttered as the vessel shuddered, grasping the sides of his chair.

“Bit of a rough landing there, Urania?” Dib said weakly from the floor.

“Again!” GIR cheered.

“Schlorfin’ AI, bet she did that on purpose,” Zim grumbled. He smoothed his skewed antenna and righted his rumpled suit.

“Not at all,” Urania replied smoothly, “just space turbulence.”

“No space turbulence if we’re not in space,” Zim muttered under his breath. But he picked up GIR and set him firmly on the floor, and made no further argument. “Chop chop, Dib, Mooga Mart awaits!”

“Just…gimme a minute for my lungs to face the right direction…” Dib managed,

“To quote good ol’ Commander Poki…” Zim held a hand out to Dib, and when the man took it, yanked him in one aggressive motion to his feet. “Walk it off!” He slapped Dib’s back. Dib groaned brokenly, then blinked.

“Wait, that actually…helped? Somehow?” He said slowly.

“I’ve found hitting often does,” Zim replied nonchalantly. “Though I admit it is usually directed at the enemy. GIR, if I see you fiddling with that leg one more time I’m going to blow it off myself!”

GIR looked up from pulling at his replacement leg with a caught-red-handed look.

“Yes, I noticed.” Zim narrowed his eyes on the robot. “You’re not so sneaky. Urania, we’ll be back in a couple hours, do try to not leave the planet without us onboard.” He marched down the corridor, waving the other two after him.

“I shall hold on to the one scrap of sympathy I have for GIR and endeavor not to,” Urania replied blithely. As Zim disappeared out the hanger doors she materialized beside Dib. He suppressed a shriek.

“Get me a repetitive laser, model G7R-69,” she said. “Don’t forget.”

“...why?” Dib questioned.

“A specific and important reason that I will not share with you at this time.”

Dib stared at her for a moment. “...Well, that's cryptic. C’mon, GIR.” He picked up the SIR unit and placed him in his hood, much to GIR’s delight. “I doubt Zim will appreciate it if we get left behind minutes after arriving.”

Dib tromped out of the ship, with squealing robot in tow, to find Zim gazing out at the sprawling megatropolis before them.

“Isn’t it glorious?” The aforementioned Irken grinned widely.

If one enjoyed box stores the size of New York city with an even more dismally gray color scheme, surrounded by swarming air traffic and the sound of machinery, it certainly was.

“How do you find anything in that?” Dib questioned, staring with skepticism at the many alien departments reaching as far as the eye could see, both side to side and upwards–and presumably downwards.

One of Zim’s PAK arms pulled something out of the device with flourish. “Map!”

“Right. Lead the way, space-man,” Dib said.

Zim began striding forwards, toward the huge doors marked ‘Entrance’ in bold pink letters, which seemed a bit overtly obvious. Dib followed, taking in the surprisingly small number of customers roaming around the area outside the building. “How come no one’s here?”

“Mooga Mart is nearly always filled with Irken consumers,” Zim explained, exuding smugness out the ying yang. “EXCEPT! On Irken holidays. One of which,” he gloated, “is so conveniently today!”

“Tallest Day!” Dib snapped his fingers. “Of course!”

“Only the Irken Elite are permitted to skimp on Tallest Day celebrations, so the Mart will be virtually empty. All those licking sticks, just sitting there for the taking!” Zim clapped his hands together gleefully. “...though I am suspicious of the origins of Tallest Day. Something in my squeedily spooch tells me the Tallest may have invented it as an excuse for parade floats of their faces and extra snacks.”

“Could be,” Dib said solemnly.

“Now, there is a scanner we have to pass through in order to be granted access to the Mart,” Zim explained. “Only Irkens are allowed through, unless you have explicit permission from an Irken and the Irken is present, in which case other species can enter as well. Just follow my lead!”

The three of them approached a kiosk-looking thing manned by what could have been an Earthen teenage movie theater employee if not for his third eye and tentacles. Beside it was a white and pink chamber with clear windows in the front and back.

“Wait, if you have to be scanned won’t it realize you’re not an Irken Elite?” Dib hissed under his breath, eyes flicking between his friend and the scanner. “And also, y’know, that you’re the traitorous criminal Invader Zim?”

“Quit worrying. It only scans for Irken DNA, not specific individuals,” Zim reassured him. “And even if it did, no one's going to risk leaving Irk on Tallest Day just to arrest us.”

“Step onto the pad to confirm your genetic code,” the alien warbled as they stopped at the counter.

Zim marched onto it, and the glass opened and closed behind him. He tucked his hands behind his back and tapped his foot impatiently. “Hurry it up, security drone, I have things to do!”

“Please keep all limbs and other appendages inside the Scan-O-Tron™️ until the Scanning™️ is complete,” the alien said, monotone.

He pressed a button, and neon pink rings began rising out of the floor, up around Zim, and into the ceiling. The machine buzzed as it worked. After a moment or two, a ding sounded from the employee's control panel.

“Scanning™️ complete. You may enter the premises.”

Zim strode out the other side. Dib moved to follow him, but the glass slid shut with a slam before him and GIR could enter.

“Irkens only, unless you have permission from a present Irken,” the alien said flatly.

“They’re with me,” Zim said. “Let them through or I will have a very serious conversation with your superior!”

“Do you take full responsibility for…” the alien squinted at Dib. “...the squishy pink thing and the SIR unit?”

“Yes yes yes, whatever, just open the ding dang door!” Zim rolled his eyes.

The alien employee shrugged and pushed another button. The glass parted before Dib.

He walked through the threshold, only slightly miffed at the comment on his apparent squishy pinkness.

“Let’s go get a cart,” he said, glancing around the massive area and trying not to become disoriented by the sheer magnitude of stuff.

“First things first,” Zim said briskly. “Gimme GIR.”

Dib raised an eyebrow, but reached behind himself and grabbed the robot from his hood. GIR waved his hands excitedly and tried to bounce but succeeded only in shaking Dib’s arms.

“Are we there yet!?” the SIR unit shrieked.

“Indeed we are,” Zim replied calmly, taking him from Dib. With habitual grace, Zim tossed him over his head and waited while metal cords snaked out of his PAK and around the robot, securing him to his back in a contraption amusingly reminiscent of a baby carrier.

Dib gave Zim a look.

“He wanders,” the alien explained shortly.

“Don’t I know it.”

Zim trotted to a enormous collection of floating, rectangular white carts and motioned for Dib to grab one. He did, and the three of them, led by Zim and his map, entered the maze of aisles and shelves. They were fairly well organized, with the merchandise stacked neatly and their prices displayed in holographic pink. Signs hung suspended in the air telling patrons what things were where, with the occasional one advertising some Irken product or another. There were small circular objects hovering just above the ground at consistently spaced intervals. These confused Dib until he saw a thin little Irken climb on one and ride it up to the higher shelving units.

“This way.” Zim pointed to the right, briefly looking up from the map. “Snacks are top priority, obviously. After that, the discount section. You’d be shocked at the things people will just throw in there! And if we have time after that, we’ll check out some of the new Invader tech the Scientists have come out with.” “You do know you’re not an Invader anymore, right?” Dib commented, half serious.

“Sure,” Zim replied, “but I still have standards.”

The snack section, to the surprise of no one, was at the forefront of the store, and only took them a minute or two to find. Zim stared giddily at the rows upon rows of alien candy and junk food, practically vibrating. As he began stuffing everything in sight into the cart, Dib examined some of the stranger food choices around him. Picking up a bag of Gummy Wyverns in one hand and a cylinder of Sour Star Dust in the other, he came to the conclusion that Zim’s infinite supply of energy probably came from the absurd amount of sugar he consumed. Perhaps if he, too, consumed absurd amounts of sugar…

He tossed the two snacks into the cart.

No harm in trying.

As he pushed the cart down the aisle, he read all the labels and attempted to figure out what exactly each of the foods might actually contain–Irken food products did not come with such foolish things as Nutrition Facts. Moments later Zim, finally content with the number of calories piled inside the cart, nodded thoughtfully.

“We’ve still got enough room to grab some discounted supplies!” He declared. “This way Dib!” He led them out of the aisle they were in and left, into an area filled with massive cans of screws.

“Can we lookit the fishy things!?” GIR screeched from Zim’s back.

Zim grimaced. “...fine, we can look at the fishy things. After we get everything else.”

“I, too, wish to look at ‘the fishy things’,” Dib said.

“We’ll look at the fishy things!” Zim growled. “You people really need to get your priorities straight.” “Says the Irken who just stuffed our cart overflowing with junk food,” Dib retorted under his breath.

“I heard that!” Zim threw a hand up in the air. He quickened his stride until eventually Dib was forced to run full tilt after him, cart swerving perilously and growing heavier by the second. Eons later Zim came to an abrupt stop, causing Dib to shriek and dig his heels into the linoleum floor to avoid crashing into him. The cart came to a stop inches behind the aliens head.

“What…was that…for…?” Dib panted, leaning on the cart’s handle.

“Now we’ll have time to look at the fishy things,” Zim explained calmly, not even slightly out of breath. Dib was sure his voice sounded genial to any onlookers but Dib could damn well hear the smug lilt hidden within its innocent facade.

“Alright, alright, the genius Irken wins.” Dib rolled his eyes. “Can we just look at the discounts now?”

Zim gestured to the sign above them reading ‘Discounted Items’. “Since I have so thoughtfully brought us to them in short order, yes we may.”

“Okay, now you’re not fooling anybody!” A chuckle snuck its way out of Dib’s chest.

“Fooling?” Zim eyes grew comically wide. “Fooling? What are you implying, dear boy? There is no fooling commencing in this fine establishment! I have only the utmost respect for my fellow cabin mates. I’m offended you would imply such crass behavior!”

“When did you become a Victorian gentleman?” Dib raised an eyebrow.

“What are you talking about, Dib? Really. You’re losing it. And if you keep stalling we’ll run out of time to see the fishy things!” Zim tutted.

Dib pushed the cart into the first Discounted Items aisle with one hand and grabbed the back of Zim’s suit with the other.

“Yee!” Zim shrieked involuntarily, to which Dib chortled.

The alien grinned darkly, all teeth. “That's how you want to play, huh?” “What does that mean–YAGH!” Zim ripped himself out of Dib’s grasp and climbed up his back, claws digging into the fabric and scratching at his skin. “Zim! That tickles!”

Mercifully, as Zim reached his shoulders he ceased his scrabbling, swinging his legs across Dib’s chest. “March, soldier!” The alien cried.

“As long as you don’t pull at my hair,” Dib warned, and continued walking.

“Victory for Zim!” Zim crowed triumphantly. “Ooo, look, industrial heated blanket.”

“Dude, I know you love your heated things, but aren’t name-brand heated blankets super pricey? Do we have the funds for something that expensive?” Dib pried, wincing as he visualized the numbers on his monies rectangle dropping into the red zone.

Zim gestured widely to the price tag, which read: “98% OFF!!!! LAST ONE IN STOCK!!!!!!! SAVE 76’000 MONIES!!!!!!!!!!!! (seriously for the love of Irk buy this thing we can’t take down the sign out front advertising heated blankets until they’re all sold out and we can’t put a new ad out till it's gone and the other product investors are getting angry enough to shoot something) ((probably me)) ((I am begging you take this gashlinking thing))).

Dib shrugged the shoulder Zim wasn’t sitting on and tossed the boxed item into their cart. “Fair enough.”

“Come, Dib, all we have to do is walk straight through the Discounted Items aisle and we’ll be at the fishy things! And then the tech section is right above them on the third floor! Sometimes my marvelous planning skills impress even myself.” Zim grinned.

“‘Aisle’, singular? There’s only one?” Dib asked.

“Indeed!”

“Oh, well, this shouldn’t take too long then.”

~2 hours and 23 minutes later…~

“Is…is that the end…?” Dib breathed, drooping eyelids fluttering as his pupils registered a break in the straight shelving to both his sides.

“Alas, we have reached the end of the discounts,” Zim said mournfully. “But not without acquiring two packs of Irken Purple-Pop soda, a heated blanket, a 50 foot length of bungee rope, new speakers for The Poltergeist’s lounge, a box of miscellaneous screws and nails, a couple of heating coils for my latest project, that weird wrist-computer you seemed so excited about, three pairs of welding goggles, antenna-pods for my Music-y Box Thing, and a Tobbleberry lolly for GIR!”

Ignoring the majority of Zim’s sentence, Dib yelled, “Finally!” And rushed the last couple meters to the end of the aisle. “Sweet fresh air! Miles and miles of AISLE really does something to a person! God, I missed space for my elbows!” He flung his hands wide out.

“Er, Dib-friend?” Zim tapped the top of Dib’s head.

“Hm?” Dib opened an eye to look at him.

Zim tipped his head to the side a couple times, giving him a look. Dib followed his gaze.

A pair of Irkens in one aisle and a singular one in another were staring at Dib detestfully.

Dib smiled awkwardly and gave them a hesitant half-wave before lowering both his arms. “Zin,” he whispered, trying to keep his lips from moving. “‘Ich ‘ay are ‘e goin’?”

Zim dutifully pointed right. Dib looked resolutely at the cart, to keep it from hitting things and not at all to avoid locking eyes with the unimpressed Irkens, and pushed it towards the fishy things.

“Don’t laugh at me,” Dib muttered.

“I wasn’t laughing,” Zim said.

“You were going to.” “Well, you’ll never know now.” Zim patted Dib’s black hair. “Maybe I was going to comfort you with a kind hug and tell you that the hugely amusing event that just took place was not your fault somehow.”

“Y’know, I’d be more inclined to believe you if you hadn’t just called it ‘hugely amusing’,” Dib retorted.

Luckily for Dib–or possibly the both of them–before Zim could continue the conversation, GIR waved a pointer finger in a vaguely forward direction and yelled, “The fishy things!”

“Yes GIR, those are the fishy things.” Zim nodded. Then froze. “Wait, how did you get out!?”

GIR, now leaning on Zim’s head with his little metal feet on his shoulders, shrugged and stuck out his tongue. Zim sighed. “Come here, you insolent SIR.” A robotic arm shot out of his PAK and tucked GIR snugly back into his carrier. After a moment of thought, a couple more cords wrapped around GIR’s arms and chest, securing him tighter.

“You know, you could’ve just left him at the ship,” Dib pointed out.

Zim shot him an affronted look.

“Kidding, kidding,” Dib chuckled. “Let’s go see these fishy things of GIR’s.”

“They’re really not that interesting,” Zim complained, hopping off of Dib’s shoulder. “They’re all over Irk, some people enjoy eating them–I think they taste like Earth chalk. Really, they’re more pests than anything else.”

As he listened to Zim’s long-winded and unnecessary description of the fishy things–which were apparently called wakwoks–his eyes caught on a label in one of the aisles. Repetitive Lasers. If he slipped away before Zim finished his rant, the Irken probably wouldn’t even notice he’d left... He tilted the cart away and tiptoed off into the aisle. The selection of repetitive lasers was near the end, and there were a lot of them. Who knew Irkens loved repetitive lasers so much. I mean, he knew they loved regular lasers, so he supposed it wasn’t too much of a stretch to assume they’d like repetitive ones. He scanned the shelf.

Model G7R-96, Model G8-90, Model H0-45… Model G7R-69! Unfortunately, it was near the very top. As he pondered this problem thoughtfully the hovering pad thing beside him caught his eye.

Hm.

Dib hopped onto the device. It shook slightly but didn’t move.

“Uh,” Dib murmured. “Up, please?”

The pad stayed still.

“...Model G7R-69 repetitive laser, please…?”

The pad rushed him up, up, up till he was staring the desired lasers in the face. He reached a hand out to grab one just as his communicator buzzed. He groaned. Apparently Zim did notice. He pulled it out of his pocket.

angry green gremlin: DIB WHERE ARE YOU???

Dib rolled his eyes at the blatant misuse of capitalization and exclamation points.

agent mothman: i just went to pick up something for urania

agent mothman: ill be back in a sec

agent mothman: chill

angry green gremlin: GET BAKC HERER NOW!!!!

agent mothman: jeez im coming

Dib tucked the device back in his jacket, grabbed a laser, and said, “The floor?”

His ride sent him hurtling at a terrifying speed back to the cart. Grasping at his tumbling stomach, he stuck the foot-long repetitive laser into a somewhat open space in the cart. He then began walking–slowly–to his previous destination and an apparently panicking alien. Dib wasn’t sure if he was more irritated or touched by how much Zim was freaking out about his disappearance.

He rounded a corner, and took in the tanks of faintly pink liquid full of…well, fishy things. That truly was the only way to describe them in any honest way. They looked vaguely like lionfish, with some ‘lion’ removed from them and a heaping pile of ‘thing’ thrown in. There were also a few that appeared to be covered in goo, but considering they were underwater it was hard to tell. He strode forward, wondering vaguely where Zim and GIR had gone, and then a sharp hand grabbed his sleeve and yanked him and the cart into an adjoining aisle.

“Shh!” His attacker raised a finger to his lips.

“Zim, what are you doing?” Dib asked tiredly. “If this is about someone trying to steal your snacks again, I’m telling you no one's gonna take candy from you when they just take it from the store–”

“It's not that,” Zim interjected hurriedly. “Stand in front of me!”

Dib eyed his frantic friend. He stepped to the side so he blocked the view of Zim from the rest of the store. “Fine, now tell me what’s up.”

“I’ll explain later!” Zim waved him off, peeking warily out from his cover behind Dib’s legs to look out at the open area beyond. The alien stared for a long moment before eventually letting out a relieved sigh. “Okay, I don’t think he saw me...”

“‘He’? Who’s–” “ZIM!”

Zim winced deeply as his name rang through the rows of goods. “Time to go.” He grabbed Dib’s shirt and led him at a speed walk out of the aisle and down the main pathway. Dib shoved the cart to get it moving and followed, matching his companions pace. “Seriously, what’s going–” he began, only to be interrupted again.

“Is that you?” The voice bellowed. “Why, don’t leave, Zim! We haven’t had time to catch up in oh so long!”

Zim stopped wearily and put a hand out to stop Dib. The human complied, waiting until Zim grimaced and turned before he did so too.

“Heyyyy, Borax…” Zim said, smiling a strained smile.

“Hello, Zim,” greeted a leafy green Irken with neon pink eyes–presumably Borax. He was surrounded by four other Irkens, two with purple eyes, one with pink eyes and irregularly light green skin, and one with a single pink eye, its other one lidded and covered by an ugly, ragged scar. They all wore standard Invader uniforms, except for Borax, who also had metal gloves and boots.

“It has been a while, hasn’t it?” Zim tried.

“Indeed. You’re still as short as ever,” Borax said.

“Yes, I suppose so,” Zim said shortly.

“How have you been?” Borax asked, words kind but gaze calculating.

“Oh, you know…” Zim trailed off. Dib was slightly impressed–despite his better judgment–to meet someone who could leave Zim at a loss for words.

“I see you’re hanging out with inferior life forms now,” Borax sneered, gesturing lazily at Dib.

“Dib is not–!” Zim growled, cutting himself off. “...Dib may not be Irken but he is just as superior as you or I.”

“They told us you’d gone rogue, Zim.” Borax tilted his head. “I mean, you already were out of control, what with all the regicide and mission failures. But I never believed you’d be this…Defective.” “Jokes on you, buckaroo.” Zim grinned, gaining back lost ground. “I don’t care that I’m Defective anymore! Check it out, I’ll even say it: I’m just a big ol’ Defective Irken. Zim the Defective. Defective, that’s what I am!”

Borax continued, unfazed. “Do you recall what I told you I’d do to you if I ever saw you again?”

“...give me a set of Purple Slooshie coupons and send me on my way…?” Zim supplied.

Borax glared darkly. “Boys…” He turned to the Irkens beside him and lifted a finger to point at Zim. “GET THEM!”

Zim shrieked and swatted urgently at Dib’s hand. “Run Dib!”

Dib didn’t need to be told twice. The cart gave a frustrated squeal as he threw himself into it and took off at a headlong run. Zim sped along beside him, casting nervous glances over his shoulder as the sound of charging Irkens grew closer.

“Here!” Zim tossed GIR into the cart, the robot giggling as he tumbled into the mountain of snacks. “Make sure he doesn’t climb out!” “Why can’t you just keep him in–” The question answered itself as Zim’s PAK legs struck out at the stuff surrounding them, leaving a messy barrier of random electronic components and bulk bags between them and Borax and his gang.

“This way!” Zim waved Dib down an aisle to their left, and Dib had to push one foot off a shelf to avoid knocking the front-heavy cart into it.

“Do you actually know where you’re going!?” Dib questioned above the clamor of Irken swearing and scraping PAK legs behind them.

“Your faith astounds me, Dib!” Zim hissed in reply. “Of course I know where we’re going!”

“Did you really think to load the map into your PAK!?” Dib demanded doubtfully.

Zim threw a hand in the direction of a massive, glowing EXIT sign.

“Oh,” Dib huffed. “My bad.” A bulk bag of roasted egad nuts crashed into the rack of cleaning wipes beside them, narrowly missing Dib’s head. He yelped.

“What did you do to this guy!?” He asked Zim, wide eyed.

Zim muttered something.

“I can’t hear you over all the shit being thrown at us!” Dib dodged a hammer.

“Nothing!” Zim snapped, striking a military mattress into the floor with a PAK leg.

“Dude,” Dib glanced up at a smoking hole in a box of replacement spinning razor blades. “It was obviously not nothing!”

“Alright, fine, I’ll tell you the abridged version!” Zim growled.

~Lotsa years earlier, before Zim went to Earth. Actually, before Zim was even an Invader. During Zim’s Invader training…~

“Now, recruits!” Commander Poki instructed, pacing. “For the love of Irk, express caution when practicing with your holo blades. I realize it has ‘holo’ in the name, but believe me when I say that it will not cause ‘holo’ damage. We cannot afford to lose any Invaders, even Invaders-in-training, during this time of crisis. At least, not many. So at least some of you need to stay alive. Those Flogschlokians won’t kill themselves!”

Zim stood on the flat top training area, holding a bright pink holo blade with undisguised glee. He wore a standard purple Invader-in-training uniform with the Irken insignia in black across his front. The weapon buzzed with energy as he swung its end back and forth in the air. Borax stood beside him, also wielding a holo blade. The size difference between them was striking. Zim seemed miniscule in comparison to Borax’s thick frame and general tallness. Also unlike Zim, he seemed uninterested, eager to get on to other things–things, one could assume, like raiding the free snack cabinet in the training lounge.

“Don’t get that thing so close to my face!” Borax complained, glaring at Zim.

“Chill out!” Zim said with a smirk, waving his weapon in the air and bouncing excitedly at the streaks of pink left in its trail. “I’m not gonna hit you.”

“Irk, I can’t believe they chose you of all people to be my partner.” Borax groaned loudly.

“I can’t believe they chose you of all people to be my partner,” Zim retorted arrogantly. “Truly you are not worthy of witnessing my magnificent magnificence, Borax.”

“Let’s just get this over with.” Borax held his holo blade up in front of him in a standard ready stance.

Zim followed suit, though he shifted into an exaggerated position rather unlike Borax’s controlled one. Borax rolled his eyes, but moved his weapon to strike at Zim as they were told to do. Zim blocked him with gusto, their blades meeting in a shower of pink sparks and angry vibration.

“Zim!” Borax hissed. “Be careful!”

“Aw, c’mon, it's no fun if we have to do it slow!” Zim protested.

“It’s not supposed to be ‘fun’!” Borax narrowed his eyes. “We’re training, not playing some foolish smeet game! Now focus!”

“You need to relax,” Zim said blithely. He withdrew his blade from Borax’s and pitched it between his hands.

“Zim, I'm serious! Cut it out!” Borax growled.

Zim began twirling his weapon in the air with increasing speed, and it hummed and brightened.

“The commanders are probably overexaggerating how dangerous these things actually are,” he said. “I mean really, what's the worst that could happen?”

The intensifying noise coming off the weapon stopped abruptly as it cut clean through Borax’s right arm. Zim stared at the results of his unintentional amputation. Pink blood dripped to the ground from the limbless hole in Borax’s shoulder. Silence filled the grounds as the other trainees noticed the incident unfolding before them, and it reigned for a long, long moment as Borax registered what had just occurred. Zim hoped for a second that perhaps, the other Irken just wouldn’t notice he’d been suddenly parted with one of his four limbs.

“ZIIIIIIIIM!!!!”

Damn.

~Lotsa years later. Unfortunately, Borax is still alive, and he is angry.~

“You cut off his arm!?” Dib yelled, voice cracking.

“Only one arm!” Zim defended, as they skidded down one of the tighter aisles. “And they gave him a new one!”

“Even if doctors could grow me a…new arm with creepy cloning science,” Dib replied, panting. “I would still…be mad if… someone cut mine off!”

“Perhaps we can have this argument at a later, less in-mortal-danger time!?” Zim suggested. Laser fire rained down on them, and the Irken threw up a holo shield of his own design in defense. “This thing won’t last long! We need to get out of the store and into the open!”

“Is that not the opposite of huff what we want!?” Dib steered the cart around a fallen oil tank.

“If I have more space I can use my PAK legs!” Zim explained.

“Right. Huff. Okay.”

The exit sign was now looming on the near horizon, and Dib could see the entrance they’d come in through. Luckily for his burning legs and raspy lungs, he wouldn’t have to run for much longer. GIR peered out over the side of the cart. Dib raised a hand to smack him back into the safety of its sides, but before he had to, GIR noticed the horde of angry Irkens spewing lasers and hate and quickly slipped back into the heaps of stuff, only wide eyes showing.

Smart robot.

They tumbled forward in a rush of limbs and adrenaline. Passing by the expansive check-out counters, Dib turned his attention temporarily to the cart full of things they hadn’t yet purchased.

“Don’t we have to huff pay for this stuff!?” Dib pressed, as they tore past the counters and in a direct path for the exit.

“Urgh, fine!” Zim groaned. A PAK arm pulled a wad of monies from a compartment in the device and chucked it at one of the tellers. It hit the furry alien in the face with a smack.

“Is that even huff the right amount!?” Dib inquired, incredulous.

“Are you kidding me, that's more than those idiots would usually see on a Saturday!” Zim snarked.

“Is it genuine?”

“...that's not important right now!” Zim leapt forward to stand in front of the clear glass doors. The employee they’d spoken with earlier stared at them tiredly. “There’s no time for a scan! Stand back!” Zim warned. Dib, hoping whatever Zim was about to do wouldn’t cause too much damage, yanked the cart backwards and ducked behind it. The sound of machinery whirring and charging up segued into a shuddering blast that sent bits of metal and miscellaneous building material into the air.

“Let’s go!” Zim called.

“Was that really necessary?” Dib complained as the three of them plus the cart stampeded their way through the rubble and out into the open.

“Maybe, maybe not. But I got to try out my new laser cannon!” Zim grinned up at him. “Push the red button on the side of the cart handle!”

Dib decided he was too winded to question the Irken anymore and simply pressed it without argument. The cart flashed purple once, and then the handle and anti-grav motors tucked themselves into the main body, the whole thing clicking and folding into place until it became a sealed, compact, rectangular, white transport container.

“It’s done!” Dib shouted, the cart-turned-box falling to the ground without its operating components in place. Metal tendrils whipped around the box, securing it in a net, and Dib found himself being grabbed in a similar manner, his feet yanked off the ground.

“Hi Mary!” GIR chirped, tucked snugly in his hood once more.

“How did you–ya know what, nevermind, we’re good Zim!” Dib called, cupping a hand to his mouth. A PAK hand shot him a thumbs up as Zim’s PAK legs sprouted around the alien and began pulling them all forward at breakneck speed. Wind charged at Dib’s face and drew tears from his stinging eyes. He shifted to look behind them as the shouts of Borax and his goons grew louder and more rathful. The look on Borax’s raging face showed he was all too aware that his target was escaping.

“GO!” He roared, his own PAK legs speeding up their violent lunging.

Laser fire bombarded them, but luckily for the trio, angry Irkens had aim about as good as a rookie Stormtrooper. The group was, however, catching up to them at an alarming rate. Dib met the eyes of one of the purple-eyed Irkens and it scowled resentfully.

“Uh, Zim!?” Dib shouted, turning back around. “You might want to hurry!”

Zim didn’t reply, and Dib worried momentarily that he hadn’t heard him, but then their velocity doubled sharply as a pair of gray and pink rocket boosters sprung from Zim’s PAK and activated. Dib hoped his friend was able to keep their intense firepower in check long enough to reach The Poltergeist.

They careened past a pair of shoppers, the Irken Invaders screeching and jumping out of the way, waving fisted hands at them indignantly. Dib opened his mouth to apologize, remembered the atrocities committed by Invaders, and promptly shut it again.

He spotted their docking port, and a thought struck him–that, and a chucked Irken popsicle that one of their pursuers decided wasn’t worth enough to keep if throwing it meant assaulting Dib’s head. He shoved a hand in his pocket and pulled out his communicator, taking care not to drop it to the speeding ground and certain destruction, and slipped his goggles over his eyes to block the wind. He swiped through his contacts until he landed on Urania’s. His fingers shook as he typed and he struggled to hold onto the device. He hoped autocorrect would cut him a break and actually work for once.

agent mothman: start the ship!!

Urania: May I ask why? agent mothman: just check ur scanners!!!

Urania: …

Urania: Ah. Very well.

The door to their port opened up and The Poltergeist rumbled to life, blue light flashing from its propulsion engines, and spreading up to accent its indents. Seeing how close they were getting to it, Dib hastily shoved his communicator back in his pocket and prepared himself for a rough stop. Just in time, it turned out, because seconds later Zim dug his PAK legs into the ground and brought them to an abrupt and screeching halt. Suddenly, a well-aimed–or more likely just lucky–laser struck his retracting boosters and they sparked and whirred angrily, sending smoke guttering into the air. Zim yelped and batted at the dislocking mechanism until they fell heavily to his feet. Unfortunately, this distracted him enough to forget about holding Dib, and the human found himself unceremoniously dropped in a pile on the ground. He scrambled to his feet and pulled GIR out of his hoodie, cradling the robot in his arms. A persistent throbbing tore through his thigh. That was going to hurt later.

“Zim! Let’s go!” Dib yelled, stumbling up to his friend.

Zim was crouched at his spasming rocket boosters, trying to collect the pieces in his arms, swearing in a confusing mix of English and Irken under his breath. “Give me a minute!” “You can make new boosters!” Dib pleaded, bouncing on his heels and glancing restlessly between his friend and the approaching storm of Irkens and Irken weaponry. “If you stay here Borax is gonna obliterate you and you can’t use boosters much less make boosters if you’re fuckin’ dead!”

Zim kneeled before his broken creation for a moment longer and then sprung to his feet.

“You’re paying for new materials!” He declared sharply.

“It’s on me!” Dib yanked him forward. “Time to blow this popsicle stand!”

They half-ran half-lurched the last few meters, bent forward to avoid blasts and rubble. Dib clutched GIR to his chest, and the little robot made uh-e-uh-e-uh-e-uh sounds to match Dib’s shuddering footfalls. He tried his darndest not to giggle. Not the time.

The trio scuttled up The Poltergeist’s ramp and into the ship. Zim wrenched the box-cart the rest of the way inside, sending it skittering across the metal flooring, and smacked a screen, activating the ship-wide communications system. “Urania!” He hollered into it. “We’re on!”

“Closing hangar doors.” Urania’s voice announced.

Dib and Zim turned to watch as the folding metal smoothly covered view of Borax and the other Irkens. The horde fired a last few shots at them, sending a series of dings echoing through the docking port, and the scar-faced one smacked head first into the edge of a wall in a last-ditch attempt to throw himself into their ship. Borax bared his teeth at them, fiery wrath burning in his eyes, and as The Poltergeist sealed its doors the last thing Dib saw was his open mouth and the droplets of spittle flying from it as he bellowed, “ZIIIIIIIIIM!”

The Poltergeist rose off the landing pad and lifted up and out of the port, leaving the five furious Irkens below to their fit of wrath. The Mooga Mart shrunk gradually in the porthole windows. A beat or two passed, and they slid smoothly into the exiting line of spacecraft. The near-silence of the hangar was a stark contrast to the chaos they’d just escaped, and there was an awkward, motionless pause while the three of them stood there shakily. Then Zim abruptly flopped to a sitting position, exhaling loudly. His various PAK appendages withdrew into his PAK. Dib’s heaving chest calmed as he caught his breath, and he gazed into the void for a moment as his brain buffered.

“When can I see the fishy things again!?” GIR asked brightly, shaking the two of them from their respective trances.

“Was that,” Dib said, “by any chance, the reason we’ve never gone to a Mooga Mart before?”

“...yes. If there’s anything Irkens love more than the Tallest, it's cheap snacks, and that includes the many, eh, enemies I have made over the years,” Zim admitted. “...apparently that logic holds true to Borax as well.”

At that, the laughter Dib had been containing escaped in the form of bouncing chuckles. “What–what kinda name is Borax, anyway!?”

Zim snickered, then leaned back on his hands and released a cackling laugh, shoulders shaking. “It is a humorous title, isn’t it? Ha! Just a Human cleaning agent!”

Dib held out a hand and Zim grasped it. Dib hauled the Irken to his feet, the two of them sharing sniggers.

“Y’know, Dib,” Zim said, shaking his head in amusement. “If I’d never met you, I never would’ve known how stupid a name Borax is.”

“Guess I was good for something after all, huh?” Dib smiled broadly.

“Indeed, Dib-friend!” Zim said. “If I ever see him again he’s going to learn all about his name’s alternate origins…” He rubbed his hands together with relish.

“Are you done with the hysterics yet?” Urania asked dryly, causing the two of them to jump in surprise. “Your box of stuff is clogging up my hangar bay.”

“Urania, I thought I requested you refrain from startling us with your creepy all-over-the-ship-ness?” Zim inquired resentfully. “And couldn’t you at least wait for us to settle on a destination?”

“Get up here then,” Urania ordered.

“Very well,” Zim grumbled. “C’mon, GIR, it's your turn to pick our next stop! Tallest save us.”

GIR scrambled off Dib and took hold of Zim’s hand, bobbing excitedly. “I’ll be there in a sec,” Dib said. “I just gotta grab something from the cart.” Zim nodded and led GIR out of the room.

“I hope you enjoyed the fishy things,” the Irken's receding voice griped, “if we hadn't gone to see them we wouldn’t have run into Borax in the first place!”

After a moment of thought, Dib pressed the button on the cart for the second time that day. The top of it whirred open to reveal the treasure trove of items within. He rummaged around in it until his hand came to rest on the smooth, circular metal of the repetitive laser.

“Urania?” He called.

“Yes?” The AI replied.

Dib held the item up. “Got your laser.”

“Thank you, Dib,” she said. A metal arm snaked out of the ceiling and grasped the proffered laser.

“If you don’t mind my asking,” Dib said carefully. “What do you want it for?...You’re not going to blow something up, are you…?” “Oh, no, Model G7R-69 repetitive lasers are completely harmless,” Urania answered. “They simply make excellent disco lights.”

Dib blinked. “Disco…lights…?”

“Indeed. It does get rather dull around here when you three are off making trouble.”

“Oh.”

She didn’t make a sound, but Dib was certain Urania was laughing at him.

“Dib!” Zim shouted. “Hurry up!”

“Coming!” Dib shouted back. He trotted through the ship’s hallway until he emerged at the cockpit. “Where are we off to now?” “That goddamn space cotton candy stand again,” Zim seethed. “I knew including GIR in our destination-picking was a mistake!”

“Aw, cheer up, space-boy.” Dib grinned. “At least he didn’t choose the amusement planet like last time. ‘Sides, I could go for some cotton candy. Set a course, please, Urania!”

“Only if you swear not to bring any of that sticky mess onboard again,” Urania cautioned.

“GIR, listen to the irritating AI,” Zim advised.

“Not to worry, we won’t,” Dib promised.

“We’ve learned our lesson.”

“Pinky promise, right, Zim?”

“...fuck off.”

The Poltergeist’s engines glowed brightly and it shot off into the distance, leaving only wisps of swirling blue jump dust and echoes of spirited laughter in its wake.