#lifeclock

[ms-scarletwings]

Invader Zim fan fiction/comic where Dib breaks into the base and Skoodge (Like that old lady from Ratatouillie) screams and shoots him as a reflex and yeah he just fucking dies.

Cut to Zim getting home with the space milk later, while GIR’s cleaning up.

Skoodge of course, blissfully oblivious to how short his lifeclock’s timer is about to run:

[ultimateoptimus]

SKUBA Invader Zim: Upgraded

Skool Sport SKUBAgents

Dib AKA Agent Mothman and Gaz, the Membrane Siblings (with Dib's Swollen Eyeball and Grey Smiley and Gaz' Skull as their former Skool symbols) and Gretchen of the Rejektz (with a heavily modded "No" sign to resemble an "R" as her former Skool symbol) are back underwater SKUBA diving in their brand new, sporty, custom colored and printed and ultra-stretchy and ultra-comfortable Membrane Laboratory Boyz' and Girlz' Skoolkidz Sport Stealth Swimwear, Swim Caps, Swim Gloves and Swim Socks crafted out of patented Membrane Laboratory Ultra-Stretch Stealth Swimwear Fabrics for that body-hugging, form-fitting stretch and comfort fit for Skool sports swimmers, the Ultra-Stretch Swim Caps can perfectly fit and hug any unique hairstyle form without breaking at all and the level of military-grade waterproof durability that can survive more than one direct Irken Orbital Water Balloon Bombardment hit and numerous SKUBA trips to Pandora's Quadrangle and Atlantis thanks to that fabric and brand new, just as custom colored and printed and unique Membrane Laboratory Skoolkidz' Sport Stealth Masks, Snorkels and Fins and All-In-One Backpack Air Tank OmniModular Skoolkidz' Sport Stealth SKUBA Rigs and Emergency Mini-SKUBA Systems!

Dib Membrane's Skoolkid Sport Stealth SKUBA Rig: Self-Inflating Sport Stealth Horsecollar Dive Vest with Mini-Air Bottle and Air-Integrated Regulator (AIR) and Double Hose Regulator Gretchen's Skoolkid Sport Stealth SKUBA Rig: Girlz' Sport Stealth Dive Jacket with Air-Integrated Regulator and Snorkelator Gaz Membrane's Skoolkid Sport Stealth SKUBA Rig: Girlz' Sport Stealth Wing Dive Jacket with Air-Integrated Regulator and Double Hose Regulator

Anatomy Of An Irken SKUBA Invader

[/////CLASSIFIED/////]

[By Order Of The Almighty Tallest Of The Irken Empire]

<Hacked And Translated From Irken By UltimateOptimus of The Swollen Eyeball Network>

Zim, the Irken Invader-in-Exile, more recently a newly made and approved Irken SKUBA Invader for underwater operations in Earth's waters (be it the Skool swimming pool, NASAPlace's NBL, the open waters of Earth's beaches and oceans, Zim-2002's universe or The City Sewers), infamous Irken Defect responsible for Operation IMPENDING DOOM I's failure (in a long, sorry history of collective disasters he inflicted upon the Irken race, Planet Irk and the Empire at large) and the poster child of the "little green men from outer space" stereotype, like most of his standard-issue insectoid clone kin has his Irken Standard-Issue SKUBA Invader Swimwear and SKUBA Gear - basically the swimming and SCUBA version of his standard-issue Irken Invader uniform and gear with Zim's personal mods.

A more minimalist, sleeker and all-in-one affair compared to the bulkier Earthenoid SCUBA gear used by Dib, Gaz, Gretchen and the rest of the Skoolkidz, Zim's SKUBA Invader Gear makes him faster and more maneuverable underwater when SKUBA diving and able to squeeze through tight underwater spots during underwater saucer exploration.

1: SKUBA Invader Swim Cap 2: SKUBA Invader Smart Dive Mask

3: SKUBA-PAK The SKUBA-PAK itself, an auxiliary brain loaded with all the standary array of weapons and tools also serving as the SKUBA Invader's air tank with the atmosphere processor refilling the SKUBA-PAK at the surface when the SKUBA Invader surfaces. [/////WARNING/////]: Removal of SKUBA-PAK will reduce the SKUBA Invader's lifespan to 10 MINUTES Earth Standard Time and triggers Lifeclock countdown to TERMINATION unless reattached IMMEDIATELY. Removal of SKUBA-PAK while underwater STRICTLY not recommended. 3A: SKUBA-PAK Main Air Tank 3B: SKUBA-PAK OmniModular Regulator 3C: SKUBA-PAK Deployable Inflatable/Breathable Horsecollar Dive Vest 3D: DDV OmniModular Air-Integrated Regulator (AIR) 3E: Mini-SKUBA Air Tank OmniModules

4: SKUBA Invader Boys' Beachbody Swimwear 5: SKUBA Invader Swim Gloves 6: Emergency Mini-SKUBA System 7: Snorkelator Snorkel OmniModule 8: SKUBA Invader Dive Boot-Fins 9: Water Repellant Pastescreen

<Dear Zim the Irken Bug: 

If you're reading this message, that means I, a lowly Earthenoid of The Swollen Eyeball Network, just got your Invasion Base Computer h4xx0r3d and shared your SKUBA Invader anatomy and schematics far and wide to the Big Wide World O' Cyberspace to behold. Enjoy!

- UO>

@aae-demon-zone333

[sharksa-shivers]

Trio derps and religion cuz ye

Kristy: She's agnostic as in.......She has 0 clue wtf happens whenever she dies...But uhhhh she's VERY VERY HOPEFUL that there's something afterwards and she's not gonna just poof out of existence entirely... Sharky: He's Neptunist, an undersea religion. There's various religions that are in the sea, some seafolk believe in landie religions anddddd some seafolk believe in nothing. Neptinists/Neptunism is a p big thing in series tho i will not say why lol, no spoilers for you!! What i can say is Neptunists have a few diff beliefs: -They were given life by Neptune along with their parents. Life is sacred and not to be taken for granted. -Neptunists also believe in several goddesses that help Neptune take care of the world/universe. Sharky himself is pretty to himself about his beliefs, kind of how Neptunists are in general, but it does come up sometimes lol so yeahhhhh. Max: He's that athiest...THAT KIND of atheist that's a jackass...Though Max will only be a jackass if somebody gives him a reason in that regard...Other then that, Max will be respectful of others...Tho he won't be quiet about his beliefs either lol... Max also thinks if there IS a God, that God hates him IN PARTICULAR... Fedora tipping intensifies ---------------------- BONUS: (p sure i've posted before butttttttt idc lol, it fits here...Also below bit is still p goddamn accurate so yeah lol) --- (Earlier moment during an earlier mission, idk the context, kinda just convo xd)

Kristy:(curious as they move through like an older area of some sort, idk, maybe it's like a gravelike area or some shit, asking, anxiety kinda in her voice)Hey, Sharky? Do you believe in ghosts? Cuz…I do…

Sharky:(nods, trying to be quite and respectful as they go through the area, walking carefully)I mean…I'm a Neptunist, so…Yeah? Kinda? I believe that Neptune made us all and he's made heaven, hell and purgatory…So in my thoughts, ghosts are people who just…Never find a way to any of those, they're just lost souls either by accident or by choice cuz your spirit would be your consciousness so yeah…

Kristy:(thinking, nervousy still)Dunno how that's supposed to really make me feel better about going through here…

Max:(chiming in, atheist mode activated, trying to comfort Kristy)Gonna be kind of an ass here maybe but uhhh, you can feel relived in knowing that none of that's true sooooooooooo-

Sharky:(annoyed with Max making things worse as well as shitting on his religion)Can you maybe not?

Max:(continues anyway)Nah, cuz i'm sorry, ghosts and spirits and all that shit just ain't real. We're born, we live, we die and that's it, blep. Eternal sleepy blackout whenever our lifeclocks hit 0.

Kristy:(anxiety spiking)Hahahahaha, this REALLY isn't helping me feel better, i feel like I'm just having a panic over there being no afterlife now and my existence just fucking stopping, fuck fuck, oh god…

Sharky:(irritated at Max)Max shut the hell up, you aren't helping. (looks at Kristy, kind, comforting)Look, the ghosts that would be here are probably pretty chill ok? I promise, there's nothing to worry about ok?

Kristy:(nervous)You sure? What if they are angry and pissed off and-

Sharky:(kindly)I doubt it ok? This seems like a pretty old spot so…If any are still around, i doubt they're gonna just attack random people for no reason…

[moosefrog]

I think of Logan's Run and how our main character was satisfied with the system until it came to his turn. The system, btw, was that you had an implant in your hand and when you turned 30 it would turn start flashing red which meant it was your time to voluntarily die. If you ran, the authorities would hunt you down and kill you.

Saying you're okay with the elderly dying is the same thing as that. It's fine until it's your turn.

Cut for spoilers. (Yes, A 40 year old move can be spoiled still.)

TO BE FAAAAAAIR [obligatory Letterkenny gif] Logan, the titular character, had other reasons to run. The computer who runs the city wanted him (because he was a Sandman, someone who hunted down runners) to find out where escaped runners escaped to. To do this, the computer set his lifeclock to flashing red, signalling he was 30. It essentially stole the last four years of his life from him. He asks if he'll get those years back but the computer doesn't answer him.

In the book, the age was 21, not 30...

[jaidonschool]

Lifeclock: August/September 2024

This month(s) I:

Built: My first APIs to connect front and backend, frontend for an auth system, ssh database php utils in vim, a local/server cart system, a gesture handling system for blueprintstudio.ai, faust plugin to manage WC session token, finished Hildene video.

Started tracking all my reps, calories, and started a personal training plan. Lifted 18/30 days in August :)

Played: In Atlanta and Helen with Shin, at coder meetups, at a renaissance faire, at design events (lol)

I am proud of working on blueprintstudio.ai for an hour or so every day, and on weekends, to build the scroll controller! I listened to my advice from last month.

Looking at this lifeclock, I see so many sick memories from age 13 on! Music production all nighters, dj events, film production, 100 sol sun media clients, awards, photography trips, creating service design conferences, service design projects, waking up at 4am, traveling the world: mexico, puerto rico, costa rica, hong kong, japan, korea... The next years... I can't loose. :)

I'm living for me :) I don't need to care about all the noise.

Yeah I need to be a tech bro for a few years. That doesn't mean I need to be SF bay area Dane. The scene is cooked. I gotta create my own. I don't know what it looks like, and don't need the answer.

Goals:

I would be more proud if I had more frequent output. More consistent small things.

Build in public: do people care? Prob yeah - and I care - I will only create what I'm excited about

Commit:

Only create what I'm excited about

3 Focuses: Learning, output, mini habits

This month (until Oct) I focus on mini outputs: 1 every other day, and content calendar

[lettersfromleslie]

GIVING THANX / TAKING TO THE ROAD / SHIFTIN GEAR TO EVERGREEN

Long time no write! I'm reporting from the great Northwest, from Seattle WA, where Ariel and I have a fresh lease going on a big creaky 100-yr-old house high up on a hill with the Cascades loomin on clear days as well as old Mt Rainier, ol snowy Tahoma, off in the distance peekable from the bus I take into town for my daily yodeling. That's right… Not in New York anymore, for the time being. We're over in the other gutter of the great American pinball machine.

America, America… In the spirit of Thanksgiving -- thanky for being here, by the way -- let's write about America, or what's left of her, that great land my luv and I have been pinballing thru all year. Bout time I put in a personal note on the new shape of me life. It's been over a year since I last wrote - there's no need to fill in all blanks… My finger healed over the winter of '22-'23, which I survived thanx to a goofy gig selling Christmas trees in a freezing hut in Long Island City, and the springtime was a hectic whirl of almost daily park busking and running around.

The summer, though…! We had us a long, crazy summer this year driving a great big loop around the whole of the USA in search of, ya know, the land, the story, what goes on. The reason for it was really just a desire on both our parts for change & motion after over 10yrs stuck in the meat marathon of NYC. With the lifeclock ticking, our housing situation held together with bits of string, and a fairly empty calendar (a rare phenomenon in NYC, the always-something-coming vortex calendar being really a sneaky causer of inertia somehow), we figured the time was right to find out what the rest of the land was like, do the classic American road trip, and maybe post up somewhere new for a while at the end of it. So we gave it all up - left our tallboy Molson with friends, sold & gave away most of our belongings, and gave up our timewarp shithole of an apartment in Bed-Stuy, our old 1890s screaming rustpipe waterheater brick roach cigsmoke bar noise timewarp shithole - quintessential shithole - bye bye to 742 Myrtle Ave!

We dumped what was left of our belongings with Ariel's folks in Tupper Lake NY and from there we hit the road: Pennsylvania, West Virginia, North Carolina, Tennessee, Arkansas, Oklahoma, Kansas, Colorado, New Mexico, Utah, Nevada, California, Oregon, Washington, Idaho, Montana, Wyoming, Nebraska, greatly speeding up by this point for the last rip thru Iowa, Illinois, Indiana, Ohio, Pennsylvania, and old New York.

Picturesque description I gave ya there, eh? Alright, what can I say… We camped all the way in our wee tent, with occasional motel stops when weather, personal hygiene, or exhuastion demanded, and I tried my damnedest to yodel for as much gas money as possible along the way. I had all my busking kit on me… Picture Ariel dumping me in some downtown and me trying to figure out where I was most likely to encounter that rare beast, the Mainland American on Foot. Oh, I don't know - listen, I'm not gonna give you the Jack Kerouac routine right now, maybe someday - a few months ago I tried writing a big long rambling rant about the whole thing and what I thought of it and what it was all like and I couldn't do it. I think maybe that's because it was a personal sort of trip, really a trip between me and the lil lady and the world that we were trying to say hello to in the moment. And now we're somewhere new and really that's what I want to think about, not the hallucinatory effects of watching the land unscroll thru a windshield for 10.000 miles. There's all this other stuff to talk about!

The land is large - let's leave at that. Nature abounds yet, and room to spread out. We saw the moose, the bunny, the eagle, the whale. The very large tree. The tumbleweed, the roadrunner. The Mystery Hole, the Hole N' the Rock. We hung out with all kinds of different people in diners and parkinglots, redneck Trump bars and lefty bookshops, libertarian coffee wagons, Walmarts and farmers markets and sketchy casino pyramid hotels - etc etc - and found everyone a lot easier to get along with than you'd ever know if you receive your worldview from the internet.

I found that busking is a tricky art in most of the USA. Spots are limited and attitudes are ambivalent. Either it's great or it's terrible. Farmers markets are good. Tourist areas are hit and miss. Special shout to Asheville NC tho for the most receptive and generous crowds I've ever found anywhere. Wild Jul 4th weekend it was.

I'll save the details for my novel or whatever. After a good long rest in Tupper Lake NY at the end of the road - and a brief stint in NYC in September - we put our heads together to plan the next move. It can be a downright diabolical thing to be put in a position where you have no real ties - no apartment in Brooklyn anymore, our stuff pared down to the bare minimum, no fixed work - and are called on to make one choice out of millions. We could go back to New York and find a new apartment, of course, but we both had this idea that it was time to try something new. Weeks of fretting led us to reluctantly admit that the Northwest had an incredible pull. Reluctantly on account of the outrageous distance we'd have to drive yet again to get there , this time with whatever worldly possessions we could fit into our car - our trusty lil Atilla the Hyundai - as well as our poor cat, Molson, who would be subjected to five days of driving and cheap motels smelling of the ghosts of a million dogs. And it'd also put us pretty well out of touch with our circles, our friends, our family, our constellations of Guitar Boys (an all-gender and all-instrument category, by the way). But all can be done…

(By the way: I'll still be yodeling in New York! I left my busking rig with a buddy and I'm making plans to travel back and forth!)

The Northwest won out for its artistic history, the seafaring vibes - ( whales !!! giant octopus !!! ) - the poltics & prosperity, and above all the absolutely outrageous nature surrounding it ( mountains !!! ) - we'd spent a downright spiritual five days camping in the Hoh Rainforest on the Olympic Peninsula during our travels, were amazed again driving thru Twin-Peaks-land on our way back eastwards thru the Cascades passes, misty surly mysterious mountains and o so mossy. We didn't expect to be able to afford anything really in Seattle Seattle but figured we'd wind up somewhere in its orbit - maybe Tacoma, Everett, Olympia, Snohomish, Bainbridge Isle. We gave ourselves ten days to find a spot. We were lucky enough to have a trusting relative on deck to help co-sign, on account of our joblessness & general jankiness.

Ten frantic days zooming around town and back to our teeny AirBnB and by now fairly pissed-off cat. Against all odds, and in the nick of time, a sketchy, photo-less Craigslist ad turned out to be the real thing - a big old creaky wooden house right in the middle of the good part of Seattle at a price we could afford. The only catch was its condition - it'd been left vacant for three years and was in many ways crumblin.

Which I enjoy! Cleaning, painting, ripping up old carpets, fixing fridges, replacing faucets, clearing out brambles & blackberries … bringing a wheezy ol house back to life. Be even better if we actually owned the place, but whatever. Big joys in having tangible work to do. The kind where you do it and you can see that what you've done has improved things. Nothing like fixing a stovetop hood extractor fan to get you feelin like a bigboyman.

With the hectic part now more or less behind us, we've been starting on regular life again, for lack of a better phrase… Working at what we do. Ariel's been oscillating somewhat frantically between pottery and sewing and drawing, and I've been at large in old Seattle yodeling hither and thither and seeing what can be made of the music scene out here. That'll be the story next time… What It's Like. Won't be as long of a wait on that one.

In the meantime … in spite of this country's frequent insanity, inanity, and downright insidiousness, in full knowledge of her appalling past and in the pain and destruction she finances, endorses, and covers for in the present … her sheer toxic dickishness, if we're being honest … I find myself thankful for this bloody pinball wreckingball machine USA, and especially the people in it, who have hearts the size of monster trucks. Americans - for what you have, for what hasn't yet been taken away, give thanks, give thanks! Everyone - well, god help us!! Give thanks anyway!!

[mahi-does-some-art]

Hello! I absolutely love your art! It so pretty and I love seeing it whenever you post! ^^ I was wondering if I could know more about that timekeeper Au? :D It sounds interesting! I hope you have wonderful day/night!

HI HELLO!!! I always see you in my notes and that means a lot to me to hear that you like my stuff!!!! (also I gotta ask, how are you so quick with liking some stuff?? like wow its amazing!!)

NYEHEHEHHEH OK OK lemme start with the basics-- and I'm gonna put a read more bc this is probably gonna get long.

The Timekeeper is the being who, well, is responsible for and is time itself. In this Au, Saint Germaine is the Timekeeper. Whether it's making sure all living beings are brought to the world and taken out of it on time, making sure the timeline doesn't get fucked up and fixing any abnormalities that happen, and everything else that comes with Time. He lives in the fabric of time with endlessly ticking clocks and gears turning and tocking.

However. Being a primordial being born when time was, he has long become bored. Once, while watching humanity from a time portal, he overhears a few humans discussing the topic of immortality.

Intrigued by the possibility of a human unable to age, die, or be affected by time's normal responsibilities, he sets out to try and create and perfect this idea. However, he becomes all the more curious when whenever he tries to tamper with someone's life (represented by clocks ticking to their heartbeat) they either die horribly or go insane for a while before dying.

He keeps trying and trying, researching as much as he can before finally succeeding on a lonely shepherd boy who had just died.

Now, when a living being dies, their clocks disintegrate into dust and that dust turns into nothing. But Kuro's clock never did. His heart had stopped beating and he was, in fact, dead but his clock was still as present as it had been when he was alive. Excited he finally succeeded, he made the clock tick along with him, Time Himself, and Kuro awoke within the bounds of time and was greeted and welcomed back to life by Germaine. He explains everything from who he is to what he had done and Kuro tries to run but gets lost in time, where Germaine finds him and takes him back to the very second he was taken from.

From there, Kuro tries to go back to his village but is chased out bc he should be dead. He escapes into the forest and ends up meeting Gear, a werewolf, and it basically goes as canon. The other Immortals seek out Kuro after they are granted immortality and eventually, the CCC arises and their apparent job is to make sure the timeline doesn't go wonky with what the Timekeeper has been doing. Eventually they tell Kuro and the others that the timekeeper has become too dangerous with his research and must be killed with C3 taking his place.

The vote goes as canon and Kuro finds a way to worm himself into the Timekeeper's home, meets Germaine and, coughs, "kills" him. He's racked with guilt from killing someone and he does his best to exit Time without getting lost and ends up in Japan about four days after he originally left. He spends the rest of his time there as basically a homeless person DHGSDF

Ok so This is where Mahiru comes in!

His backstory is the same as always; His mother dies in a car crash, Tooru takes him in and he's a first-year highschooler with his friends Ryuusei, Koyuki and Sakuya.

However, on the way home one day, he comes across a homeless man who looks hungry and miserable. He's dirty and just sitting partway into an ally huddled up into a ball. He... he can't just walk away. Even though he knows its not a good idea to take in random people off the street, he approaches this man, offers to let him stay with him and basically drags him to his apartment.

Unbeknownst to Mahiru however, he was not supposed to take Kuro in. In fact, not taking him in was how the timeline was supposed to progress but he ended up breaking past the bounds of the set timeline just because he took Kuro in. AND WHATS EVEN BETTER--

It's irreversible.

C3's job is to make sure shit like that doesn't happen and when it does, they go back in time to make sure it doesn't.

But in that moment, the ENTIRE timeline just fucking changed permanently and No One noticed at first bc everything ELSE that was supposed to happen in that moment happened. And because of that one decision, Mahiru ends up getting involved with the other immortals, meets Tsubaki and Inner Sloth (Rowan, who is a seperate being from Kuro and live in Time like Germaine does), gets caught up with C3, and ends up realizing that he's the only mortal that can actually do everything and anything the Timekeeper Himself does!

Germaine, who is NOT DEAD, has been watching from the moment Mahiru met Kuro bc he could Feel the timeline change so drastically yet so casually and ends up revealing himself after a lot of the events happen and asks Mahiru to become his apprentice.

Mahiru refuses but a few days after, he has a splitting headache that makes it hard to sleep. The next morning after only sleeping a few hours, the pain has subsided and he goes into the bathroom and looks in the mirror and....

Why... does one of his eyes look just like the Timekeeper's...?

also i made more art and its a better design for Germaine.

Also in place of his broom, mahiru can (eventually) materialize something kinda similar to germaine's staff thing and he can use it as a flying broom wwww He can nyoom thru the Time Space~

[borrelia]

Zim is autistic and stress stims by headbanging in Career Day, Megadoomer and Issue #24, the first two examples due to stress relating to time-limits, possibly because it reminds him of his life-clock when his pak is detached? What do you think?

Youre Right

[insane-mane]

Ben as an Irken! Stuck between calling him something like “Dimvader” or just “Invader Ben” since it’s silly anyway.

Originally I thought it’d be neat if Ben’s “Tallest” form would instead be an Ultimate design, with the idea the PAK the Omnitrix supplied would also act a SIR Unit, reducing the “Lifeclock” Irkens have when it’s removed and acting as a wireless life support system. Since it also acts as a “second brain”, it’d remove the drawback of his impulsive/ego-maniacal nature by separating it, leaving the Irken more logical and the SIR the outlet for destruction. Bit of a “Left Brain, Right Brain” thing, I guess. But a lot that is a bit complicated, so scrapped that and figured it’d make for a neater 10K form? Dunno if I’d still include the SIR unit, but did it for fun anyway! Went for something akin to Jhonen’s “Johnny the Homicidal Maniac” for his outfit (namely the boots and loin cloth thing that’s prominent in a decent bit of his work)

Kinda in this weird middle ground of Jhonen’s style and attempting to do something of my own and not knowing if it works, but whatever. Did a bonus Zim and Gir to get a feel of how I’d personally tackle them and in turn do it for…”Invader Ben” I guess

[fall-out-boytoy]

I know this episode technically isn't an actual episode, but, Ten Minutes to Doom?

Ten Minutes to Doom :DD

First off, I absolutely DO consider the unfinished eps to be "actual episodes"! Just because the crew didn't have time to finish them doesn't mean they aren't canon. Same goes for the episode ideas that don't have scripts!

Anyway! Ten Minutes (I almost never bother to add 'to doom' or 'of doom' for any of the episode titles) is a GREAT episode that would've been at least Bolognius Maximus level had it been finished! (To be clear I consider Bolognius Maximus a pretty dang good episode, but not Backseat Drivers level.)

It's got a LOT of PAK lore (it kinda has to based on its premise haha)! Aaron Alexovich made a piece of concept art showing just how much Zim deteriorates in those ten minutes:

look at him he's so GROSS. HIS HEAD IS SHRINKING, LOOK, HIS WIG IS SLIDING OFF. it's just..EUGH.

anyway what was I saying? oh yes! PAK lore! The timer being exactly ten minutes is fascinating.

I've heard at least one theory that irkens should be able to survive without their PAK (for over 10min), but they were specifically engineered to not be able to. Because the PAK (supposedly) controls their emotions, makes them loyal to the empire, etc. If an irken took off their PAK, they've basically gone rogue and the empire wouldn't be able to control them at all. So, naturally, the empire made it so irkens COULDN'T SURVIVE without their PAK. That's why it's exactly ten minutes - because it was engineered that way.

I'm here to tell you that is complete and utter bullshit! One simple reason: minutes are an Earthian unit of time. There is NO reason for irkens to measure in them. In fact, there's some canon evidence that "timethings" are the wider-used unit, or at least the unit in Moo-Ping 10 (comic issue 35):

So I hc that either the ten minutes thing is just a weird coincidence (there've been weirder), or it's actually something like 10.0004 minutes.

"But Pants, Zim's lifeclock was showing in minutes!" yeah and I bet you also think all alien species always converse in perfect English in IZ. It's being converted for the benefit of us, the viewers!

Moving on from that now! It'd probably have been REALLY annoying for the storyboard artists to plan this one, since Zim's lifeclock is in real time, so they couldn't do any time skips (even a couple seconds long).

What else? Oh, right! We get the first appearance of Foodio here :D This also means that Membrane, rather predictably, solved world hunger between now and Florpus.

Dib's speech patterns with the PAK on him are interesting! Instead of simply having Richard do Dib, they had Andy try to mimic Richard, which is a much better idea really - Dib's still got the same vocal chords. It kinda sounds like Zim's robot Dib in Future Dib, haha. It's also how I imagine Zib sounds, or pretty close to it!

SCREAMY IS DECENTLY FUNNY AND SERVES TO FURTHER DRIVE HOME THE POINT THAT THERE ARE A LOT OF SCREAMING CHARACTERS, AND A LOT OF STUPID CHARACTERS, IN IZ!!!

this must've been VERY confusing for the Skool with all the places Zim and Dib go, hehe. They've both been to several different places in space as well as Antarctica off the top of my head. It's also..like..if you have the money to buy HOMING CHIPS, why couldn't you buy desks in Door to Door? the skool has got to have, like, the worst budgeter ever.

[myrskytuuli]

I feel like I need to clarify that I did not mean that someone took my wallet, but that I placed it on the counter and then walked out of the bar like an idiot, got on the train (yes both times) and only several stations past started to wonder where my wallet is, at which point the lifeclock appeared in the corner of my vision with the closing time of the bar constracted against my ability to speedrun back my crawl route set to the backdrop of knowledge that literally anyone could have just taken it from the middle the goddamn bartop. See, this kind of idiocy never happens to me in straight bars. (the bartenders in both cases have been angels who have picked up my wallet and kept it safe)

I've lost my wallet exactly twice in my life and both times by leaving it on the counter of a gay bar. Clearly the environment there makes me feel too safe, I need to start trusting my fellow gays less.

Anyway, holiday travelling really is a mental cleanse, because you stop being anxious about such nebulous things like "Am I a good person?" or "should I do more with my life" and start worrying about much easier to comprementalise issues like "It's 2am and I don't know where my wallet is".

[ukagaka-zim]

(OOC presentation of third alternative version of Ukagaka Zim, whose nickname is Sitka. This one is only a concept for a future version of Bittle, it’s not currently existing in the canon. Transcript of the text under the cut.)

- D1b : Deceased.

- Blog : Would be green uppercase.

- Divergence : Future Uka where his D1b is gone. Eep was already an adult. Is a concept for now and doesn’t appear anywhere in canon.

- Particularities : More mature, older and wiser. Learnt the ambassador job from his D1b. Took D1b’s mission after having lost him. Changed the colors of his uniform in his memory. protective toward his younger close alts and sad near a D1b.

- Defectiveness : Emotional inhibitors and biological regulators faulty. Lifeclock extended, same defectiveness as Bittle.

[zims-tiny-spaceship]

just read the ten minutes to doom transcript and like... when dib takes zims pak zim straight up tells him that he need it to live. even goes into detail about the lifeclock and whatever. like you probably wouldn't want to tell your worst enemy how to kill you but here he is

here zim is basically saying "wait no dib you've gone too far this time I could actually die" and expects dib to listen. like he really believes here that dib doesn't want to actually kill him, and that if zim tells him the severity of the situation he just caused, dib will rethink hat he's doing.

but he doesn't. he's just kinda like "deadass? wow dad has to see this" and runs off.

just... the fact that zim expects dib to recognize when he's gone too far and he just... doesn't. like I'm fairly certain dib is taking this enemy thing more seriously than zim is. yeah they both hate eachother but I don't think they're on the same page in this. I get the impression that by now zim thought any of dibs death threats ("they might even name your autopsy video after me!") were just talk, and now that he's actually at a real risk of dying, he expects dib to be merciful.

idk maybe im reading into too much but that bit just stuck out to me and now I'm here like

[rainbow-beanie]

Fanart for @dana-chan-the-control-brain ‘s fanfic tech support: chapter 4 weasel words

 The Computer was broken from his thoughts at the sound of high pitched shrieking. His cameras and processors devoted his attention to the distressed little irken in the experiment room. Who was being attacked by the very same weasels he was experimenting with. Apparently, Weasels did not take kindly to having sleep hypnosis parasites planted in their brains.

Zim ran and shrieked and flailed his arms as the little furry creatures crawled all over him, slathering him with bites, claw marks and laser eyes. A quick scan confirmed that these weasels did not have rabies, they were just angry. VERY angry. And aside from Zim’s panicking and mild bleeding from the bites he appeared unharmed. He was just freaking himself out, making the weasels angrier. He was going to seriously hurt himself if this kept up. Even if it was, admittedly, hilarious to watch.

The Computer wordlessly opened up the weasel containment unit without a verbal command.

“Master, contain the weasels in here.”

Zim then slammed the glass door to the containment unit shut. Panting heavily.

Zim peeled one of the weasels off his face, and threw it in the containment unit. He did the same for the one biting underneath his leggings and two others that were chomping down on his antenna and leg respectively.

“Wheeeeeeeeew… ha… that was a close onnnnAUGHHHH!!!”

Zim reached a new octave as he realized he didn’t notice the weasel clinging to his PAK, that had begun clawing the shell, causing a port to open up and began nibbling on wires to it’s heart’s content.

“AHH! NO NONONONONONONONONO!!! GET OUT OF THEREEEE!”

Zim tried to reach behind his back but instead he squeaked and convulsed as his eyes rolled back and his antenna twitched. He spun around in a circle and fell to the floor, before leaning back upright with his bodyweight only. Jerking and moving in an unnatural way. As if he didn’t have control of his own limbs. His arms and legs behaved like noodles as if the weasel was hosting the world’s worst grotesque puppet show. Zim’s tongue rolled out his mouth as his PAK began flashing red as a warning.

Now this was something the Computer WOULD intervene with. A robotic arm descended from the ceiling and snatched the weasel off Zim’s back, and threw it in the containment unit unceremoniously, crashing it into all it’s other bite-happy brethren before sealing them up again.

Zim fell to the ground, moaning and twitching.

Was he alright?

The Computer ran a scan of Zim’s current state. Specifically his PAK. He cross-compared reference to the scan he took on the first day Zim arrived to Earth. He didn’t have time to go over Zim’s PAK data in depth yet. Between GIR’s food experiments and Zim’s animal experiments, he had a feeling he'd be in pretty high demand over the weekends.

“Master,” The Computer began, speaking in an authoritative neutral voice. “Some nerve ending wiring for your arm control nerve is frayed along with your limb systems and several other nerve wirings. I'll plug in and begin an automatic PAK repair as soo-”

“NO!” Zim shrieked, far more panicked then the Computer ever heard him, and that was saying a lot judging by how jumpy he was.

“N-No.” Zim stammered, shakily getting to his feet, swaying where he stood. “There’s no need for an automatic PAK repair… I can do it myself.”

“......I… what? Are you sure? You can barely stand right now.. And your arms are very limp and...shaking....” The Computer couldn’t help but say aloud.

“Ah, Don’t worry, it’s just a little scratch and some loose wires, it’s fine!” Zim extended his PAK legs to walk to the PAK repair work station, as opposed to walking on his little organic legs that were trembling like jelly. Thankfully, that part of his PAK was undamaged as he was able to extend and use his PAKlegs no problem.

“...With all due respect, Master…” the Computer began as Zim leaned his body against the console, trying to figure out how to word what he would say next. “I don’t believe in your current condition that you would be able to repair your PAK manually.”

For a moment, Zim said nothing. He didn’t snap at him immediately like he normally did. Which worried him. He just leaned his head against the console, closing his eyes for a few moments.

“....Master?”

“EH!?” Zim’s antenna shot upwards and he looked confused. As if he wasn’t talking to him a few seconds ago.

That was very worrisome.

“Let me repair your PAK.” The Computer said in the most soft and stern voice he could muster.

Zim’s antenna twitched, as he realized what the Computer was asking.

“Eh.. Ah, no, don’t worry about it! I’m FINE!”

Before the Computer could argue his reasoning some more, Zim turned around so he could face the workbench and detached his PAK onto the work station. The PAK extended a few extra port wires and crawled onto the bench obediently, apparently used to this type of repair from its host. The lifeclock in the Computer’s systems activated, displaying the ten minute time limit in the center screen of every single camera in the home. A normal precaution so Invader Computers were currently aware when the PAK was attached to their Master and if they were at any risk of dying.

Zim arched his back and gave a long stretch that cracked his spine. He took a deep breath as he flexed his arms and claws, and began blinking each eye separately at a time and flexing his antenna individually from each other. The Computer observed him for a few moments. He consulted his database to see if such behavior was common for irkens who performed manual PAK repair. Oddly, there weren’t many instances of manual PAK repair operated by the irken host itself. PAK maintenance drones would repair other irkens typically, but not themselves. Invaders were trained in basic first aid, due to the nature of their job. They had to spend long quantities of time alone, and basic wear and tear maintenance was expected in their line of work.

A few chewed off wires however, that’s a different story.

“...Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” The Computer began hesitantly, suspecting that Zim had no clue what he was tampering with. He can never know with him.

Zim flexed his claws a few more times before he seemed satisfied, and he grabbed the wielding tool from overhead.

“Huh-hmm.” Zim said plainly. “This kinda thing happens all the time.”

“...You…. your wires get chewed out by weasels all the time?” The Computer asked.

“Yes! Well, no. Well.. I just mean… ya know… trainee combat and all that.”

Invader training combat?.... Zim had his wires yanked out of him before? The Computer suspected that was highly unlikely. Due to the nature of an irken’s PAK, and how they held most of an irken’s consciousness and served as a secondary brain to work alongside their primary one, PAKs were strictly off limits from attacking. Especially during training and simulations. In fair duels one of the main rules is to not mess with a fellow irken’s PAK. Everything else is fair game. Punch them in the eye, yank their antenna or grind the heel of their boot into the spooch. Attacking or tampering with an Irken’s PAK is strictly forbidden and would cause low marks and demerits, and in extreme cases, re-encoding.

“...How does that happen?” The Computer couldn’t stop himself from asking.

“Ah, oh ya know how training is..” Zim said distractedly as he began welding and repairing the loose wires. “Stomping or yanking of the PAK to see how long I can last, throwing it back and forth amongst the Elites, hitting it a bit with the brunt of the electro spears a bit too hard…that’s just how it goes. All normal endurance training for only the most elite of the elite.”

…….He was kidding? Right?

"Like this one time during training, my PAK was yanked off and my fellow soilders wanted to see how long I could last, and that skilled Invaders are able to survive past the ten minute mark. Well, my record is about three minutes till. So we waited. They kept it away from me a little bit past my record, one minute was cutting it a little close, but we all had a good laugh about it."

He wasn’t kidding.

“They are just testing to make sure I have the right endurance! They obviously were testing my durability and enguitity! I had to learn a few things about PAK repair if I wanted to complete my Invader training! A few dents and dings like this is nothing.”

.....

The Computer immediately pulled up any information he had based on Zim’s training days as an Elite. He couldn’t find any documented evidence that his fellow elites had bullied him like this, but he did notice the peers he was typically stationed with at the time.

ELITE RED:

SKILLED TACTICIAN AND IMPRESSIVE COMBAT SKILLS

HIGHLY FAVORED BY FORMER ALL MIGHTY TALLEST MIYUKI

CURRENT STATUS: ALL MIGHTY TALLEST RED

ELITE PURPLE

RUTHLESS NO MERCY APPROACH TO COMBAT.

TOP SCORES IN STEALTH

CURRENT STATUS: ALL MIGHTY TALLEST PURPLE

That….

That can’t be right.

That would be impossible.

Logical evidence would suggest that these two were the ones that would purposely mess with Zim’s PAK to give him clear and unfair advantages. However, the Tallest are all powerful and all knowing in their judgements. They wouldn’t have become the Tallest if they were breaking the rules as elites. Even then, while Zim was the runt of his squad, he didn’t deserve such treatment. Either Zim did not know of the protocols or he thought that it was a standard part of training.

But… Zim had to be lying? Right? I mean he’s defective, who knows what crazy thinks?

That’s what the Computer wanted to think. But watching Zim calmly and accurately repair his PAK as if it was normal routine for him suggested otherwise. He’s been at it for about a minute now.

“...Master.” The Computer said lowly and softly, lowering the probability of startling him.

“Hmmm?” Zim responded, laser-focused on his task.

“How are your hands so steady…. You were flailing around with limp arms not to long ago… and your PAK is still damaged.”

Zim blinked up from his work, pausing for a moment before he gave a soft chuckle. It was unlike when Zim laughed loudly to assert his dominance. It was squeaky and soft.

“Silly Computer!” Zim chuckled and he got back to work.

“...Uhhhhh..”

Zim snickered to himself. “You’re a machine, so I don’t expect you to get it.”

What? What was so funny?

“My PAK has been damaged.” Zim then pointed towards his temple. “Not my ORGANIC brain.”

“....I …..”

“Once the PAK is detached, my biological shell draws resources from the organic brain. The nerve endings in those are FINE. It’s the PAK that’s the problem.”

The Computer considered this. While what Zim was saying was true, most irkens didn’t tend to view themselves as a disconnect to their PAK. It was a level of heightened awareness not many had achieved. If an iken’s PAK was damaged, it was common they would still experience pain once it was detached. There were many reports of a PAK being damaged, the PAK thinking that it’s host has broken a leg, and once the PAK was removed, the irken biological shell would still feel as if their leg is broken. Only PAK technicians had this level of understanding on how the PAK brain and organic brain co-exist together.

“You know, for an Irken super Computer, you’re not that smart if you forgot how PAKs work.” Zim snickered.

Oh that little…

“I have not!” The Computer huffed. “Just seeing this level of competence from you is shocking.”

“I know, I know. I am truly amazing!” Zim beamed. Apparently not absorbing the Computer’s insult. Probably for the best.

“Now silence! I need to concentrate.”

The Computer remained silent as he watched Zim work. Zim's hands worked efficiently at a pace that showed he was comfortable making these types of repairs.

Even so, an automatic repair would be faster and more efficient. The Computer took into consideration the stress patterns in his voice and heart rate when he thought he needed an automatic repair. In addition to his reluctance to being scanned or his PAK being scanned.

…...So, he knew he was defective then?

That had to be the logical conclusion. Only Defectives tended to get nervous about PAK fiddling or PAK repair. Although, observing his Master's hands, Zim had no qualms with repairing himself. Due to his intense focus and efficiency, it could almost be described as therapeutic for him.

Then was it the Computer himself he was afraid of?

There was still too much insufficient data for him to make a logical conclusion at the moment. But he will take Zim's comfort in mind when he eventually needs to consult him about PAK and biological repair in the future. Because let's face it, Zim will hurt himself again.

/////////////////////////////

this part made me very emotional, and also made me hate the tallest even more

[sweetiepie08]

Rebel Z (Chapter 10 Final)

nvader Zim fanfic

While analyzing Zim’s PAK for weaknesses, Tak discovers strange coding that sends her on a search for answers. The clues lead her to uncover a conspiracy that governs all of Irken society. When the truth sends her on the run, she has no choice but to return to the one place the Tallest would never willingly go: Urth.

Meanwhile, Dib has noticed odd changes in Zim’s behavior. Has the invader simply grown bored of his mission over the last few years, or is there something more interesting going on?

People who asked to be tagged: @incorrect-invader-zim , @messinwitheddie, @reblogstupids, @cate-r-gunn

If anyone else would like to be added to the tag list please let me know.

Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 5. Chapter 6. Chapter 7. Chapter 8. Chapter 9. Chapter 10. 

Thank you for reading! I do plan to continue the story in a sequel fic, but I may take a short hiatus first. I hope you enjoyed this!

Be on the lookout for the next book in the series, RevolutionZ! In which Zim and Tak attempt to join the Resisty and gain new companions! Dib fills his gap year by joining an alien rebellion! Gaz gets dragged in too! And what happened to Zim in Death Melee is explained! 

However, I will most likely only be posting links to Ao3 than full chapters to Tumblr. Again, Thank you everyone for reading!

[-]

“So, what exactly the fuck was all that stuff with the punch about?” Dib asked once they were a comfortable distance away form the Massive.

Zim glared straight ahead at the stars. “It’s nothing that concerns you, human.”

“Bullshit!” Dib slammed his hand down on the control panel. “Your little stunt could have gotten us killed. Out with it!”

Zim gritted his teeth and gripped the steering mechanism until his knuckles quaked. Dib braced himself for the inevitable screaming denial. Instead, Zim let out a pained sigh. “Fine, if you must know, I figured out three Urth years ago that my mission was a sham and my leaders were trying to have me killed, so I took revenge. Happy?”

“We know all that,” Tak snapped. “And anyway, I told you your mission was a lie a long time ago. What I want to know is how you managed to betray the Tallest without your treasonous thoughts setting of your life clock.”

“Yeah, and who’s Spek?” Dib added.

“You wish to hear Zim’s tale of woe?” He clenched his fist and heaved out another sigh. “Fine. Three Urth years ago, the Tallest contacted me, telling me they selected me to participate in Death Melee, an inter-galactic event that all would be watching.”

“The one where they throw criminals on a planet together to fight to the death?” Tak deadpanned. “That was your first clue?”

“They told me the rules had changed and it was now a contest of elite warriors. For my partner, they gave me a Spek, a smeet just shy of his cadet years. He hadn’t even seen his first cycle yet…” Zim’s fists shook as he cut himself off.

“Since you’re still alive, I’m assuming you won,” Dib said.

“Yes, but…” his gaze fell to the floor. “Yes. Anyway, throughout the Melee, it became clear to me that the Tallest lied. This was still a game for criminals, but Spek…” Zim narrowed his haunted eyes, “he was only there to lessen my chances.”

Dib watched, mesmerized. He thought he’d seen the many moods of Zim. He’d seen everything from proud boasting, to spiteful rage, to pathetic schmooping. But this, this was something else entirely, something he never expected to see from the alien. True remorse.  

“On my journey back to Urth,” he continued, “I had too much time to think and when made it back to m base, I was done with all of it.” Rage grew in his voice with every word. “I knew they lied. I knew they’d been lying. For a moment, I thought, if they didn’t want my genius, maybe someone else would. And that thought was enough to set off my life clock. Instead of simply ripping out my feedback chip, I infected it with a virus that sends the Control Brains a loop of my Urth memories, preventing it from receiving new thoughts and experiences.” A bitter, satisfied smile came to his face. “As far as I can tell, it hadn’t noticed anything was off until now.”

“And the machines I saw you building?” Dib pressed.

Zim drew himself up. “I have a contract with the Resisity. I build them machines, they appreciate my genius and send me monies.”

“And that’s what you’ve been doing for three years?” Dib asked, voice sripping with skepticism.

Zim nodded and said nothing more.

Dib stared at him, trying to get a read on this whole tale. He wasn’t sure what to believe. Zim’s reason for existence seamed to be pleasing his Tallest. The little green monster talked of nothing else since arriving on Urth. He couldn’t imagine Zim wanting anything else and he’d fallen for the schmoopy act before. But this was not schmoop. It was too subtle, too quiet. And that betrayal of his Tallest couldn’t be denied. Something had truly changed.

Dib looked to Tak to gauge her opinion, but her face revealed nothing except careful calculation.

“I’d heard the Resisty had been growing and gaining power,” she mused. “New technology granted them upsetting victories and made them more of a problem than they once were. They could be the key. We need to fight if we ever want a chance of defeating the Control Brains and freeing our people, and for that, we’ll need an army. With your connection and my information, we could pose a real threat to the Empire.”

Dib expected Zim to launch into another tirade about how he wasn’t in it for the politics. That this was all a personal mission and he had no interest in going rogue. That did not happen.

Instead, Zim said nothing for a long time. He simply stared through the windshield in tense silence. But then, a grin grew slowly on his face. “I’m in.”

[-]

When they made it back to Earth, they found that Gaz made use of MiMi and Mini Mouse as gaming companions, Dad bought her excuse that Dib was hanging out at Zim’s house, and that he hadn’t even stopped home long enough to notice the two additional robots in the living room.

Dib went straight to his room and laid out all of his recording devices. He had the notes he took the night Zim and Tak rambled drunkenly on the couch. He had the audio recording of the old man Irken that he couldn’t wait to translate. And he had the spy camera he’d been wearing to capture the whole experience. He never got so much undeniable proof on one mission before, and no one, to his knowledge, had this much evidence of this quality ever. He’d be king of the Swollen Eyeball network if he showed even a fraction of…

His eyes drifted to the Swollen Eyeball emblem pinned to his bulletin board and he let out a sigh. The Swollen Eyeball… what a joke. They’d been reduced to a bunch of anti-science conspiracy nuts. The organization became a competition to see who could shout their wildest theory the loudest. What were they compared to a real evil alien empire, a real soul-sucking, Lovecraftian horror, and a real space alien rebellion?

No. This was bigger than some crack-pot conspiracy group. This rebellion universe-shattering consequences. And he was going to be part of it.

[-]

Out in his ship, Zim stared at his PAK connector with warry eyes. He wasn’t sure what held him back now. His stunt on the Massive already solidified his traitor status, but this felt different, more official. It was one thing to enact vengeance on those who betrayed him. It was quite another to completely detach himself from society.

He’d been unwaveringly loyal to the Empire since his conception, but they didn’t want him. He’d seen that years ago. So what was he waiting for?

He disconnected the PAK from his back and ignored the lifeclock in the corner of his eye as he plugged it in. He opened the hatch, clicked a pair of tweezers in his fingers, then reached them toward his feedback chip.

At a light tug, his computer’s voice gave an automated warning.

You are attempting to remove the feedback chip. Doing so is an act of treason against the Irken Empire. Are you sure you want to proceed?

Zim closed his eyes and pulled the chip free.

[-]

Tak’s footsteps echoed as she walked across the concrete garage floor. MiMi’s metallic feet clacked beside her. Apart from that, the room was silent. She was used to silence. One grows accustomed to it when traveling alone through space. But these last few days had been anything but. And with Zim as her dubious ally, silent moments like this were certain to be few and far between.

And yet, this moment, she felt the need to fill it with something.

She popped open the windshield of her ship and hopped inside. “MiMi, my disc please.” Mimi reached into her head and took out the Urth data storage disc. Zim wasn’t the only one with a secret stash.

Tak took the disc from Mimi and placed it in a tray on the ship’s control panel. “Ship, track six please.” As she hopped out, music began to play. Smooth, jazzy horns filled the air and the singer began crooning.

Maybe this time, I’ll be lucky. Maybe this time he’ll stay…

The song was from an Urth performance art piece. The vocalist sang about some male mate. That part didn’t interest Tak in the slightest. Still, there was something about it...

Not a loser anymore, like the last time and the time before…

The song continued to play as Tak opened the engine access panel and began her work. While manipulating the many gears and wires, she found a few interesting repair methods that the human implemented over the years. Many employed the use of an Urth bonding strip called “duct tape”, which she had to admit came in handy. The human didn’t do a bad job, even if it was pretty slap-dash.

All the odds are in my favor, something’s bound to begin…

She finally untangled a mess of wires and reconnected them.

It’s gotta happen, happen sometime…

She fused together the final wire and the ship hummed to life. Fuel Regulation Systems online.

Tak smiled, “Okay Mimi, looks like we’re finally getting somewhere.” She ducked back into the access panel as the song his its crescendo.

Maybe this time I’ll win.

[bamsara]

I think the only near-death experience Zim has ever had is when a ghost entered his PAK lmao, sometimeshe sounds like a mom friend xd

I mean a ghoul DID rip his eyeball out and try to kill him for taking Dib away, as well as the initial threat of keeping his Pak on Dib to keep him alive while his lifeclock ticks away oof