cupidity11

Summary: It's prom. Two sworn enemies dance. And kiss. ___ “It’s a dance, earth boy. Dance with your future overlord.” Dib rolled his eyes at that but...he slipped his hand into Zim’s and let himself be pulled to the floor. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- School dances were always deeply awkward. Prom was no different. Dib had never had the desire to go to a dance. Why would he? There was the aforementioned awkwardness, the fact that he loathed the idea of spending any further second with his fellow students and he simply felt like his time was better spent re

 Text #1 -- 10/23/19, 9:23 pm Space Lizard: Sooooo what is up? Big head: You’re bad at this. 9:25 pm Space Lizard: No Space Lizard: I’m great at this. Youre just too stupid to see it Big head: Uh huh 9:30 pm Big head: I’m researching  {LINK} Big head: It’s apparently a radioactive hot bed, according to Agent Fairyshroom. Big head: Lots of weird phenomena. Big head: Too bad I can’t go. Big head: No equipment I have at hand is good enough to handle this amount of radiation. Big head: And I doubt dad will let me use his stuff after last time. 9:32 pm Space Lizard: This looks stupid Big head:

Soul Mates;Fighting But, Fitting A scarred, scabbed fist is thrown out of temper and the rest is history. The tiny nuclear mole named Zim dodges, ducks away from the blow. With a war cry only an Irken Elite who has experienced death can manage, he flies at his opponent. It's rough, raw. It's split knuckles, bloody noses and grunts of pain. It's nothing but a primal domination game. And it's wonderful. They fight to the death or, more likely, until they end up exhausted and broken on the black pavement. It's a dance made out of searing intensity, fast swirling heated gazes, steps that have been memorized and hatred strong enough to rival a

One step closer…Colors (golden irises, ivory skin, plain blue shirts) and promises that mean nothing. Or they should mean nothing. Might've meant nothing a few years ago. He was an Invader. A solider. The kind that are trained in the ways of cruelty and are prepared to die for the Empire. The kind that went to battle, prepared to never come back and were honored to spill their own blood for their world. The kind that went to war and destroyed entire planets and felt nothing. No spark of guilt or fear. Irkens didn't know the meaning of either word. 'Come on, Zim.' Pale lips curled into that smile. The lifting of the sly corners. The o

The window was always open. It hadn’t been truly shut in a year. It remained cracked to the elements for the benefit of one lonesome alien jerk. Not that Dib really minded. Anymore. Sometimes Zim was busy with whatever experiments or project he had going on. Sometimes Dib was knee deep in school work or his latest paranormal case. They could go for days without seeing each other. There was always texts, emails, IMs, skype voice chats. But, none of those were a replacement for when Dib heard the window creak open. They would play video games on Gaz’s old GS console, bickering, their characters on screen causing havoc. They could