Saltpeter ballet.
Saltpeter.
Repost: ://075. Shade.
Dib liked the lazy heat of summer, and stayed up all night in it, getting soot-dark rings around his eyes, playing shadow games on his empty wall. In the peace of absolutely early mornings he'd let himself drop off stretched on top of the bed instead of under the sheets. That was too hot even for him. In the very heights of sleep deprivation he seemed to see things crawling in the shadows around his bed. Not threatening, but mysterious with faceted eyes (sometimes red) and feathery moth-antennae and velvet-grit skin. Halfway through the day again, when it was good and hot, he'd sink up from the boggy stupor of sleep and wander out to play with Zim. They both liked shadow games, crawling through Zim's base with darkness teeming and squealing around them, getting lost in the muggy darkness of eyes and distracting, discretely-living things. Dib never wondered again if he was just seeing things when he watched Zim pause, turn, look into the shadows, then shudder and turn quickly away.
"What are they, anyway?" Dib asked, when he came into his room to find Zim crouched in the window, staring big-eyed with antennae pricked into under-the-bed shadows.
Both of them, six months ago, had felt the world shift over, flip like a pancake, and be: again. Different. Dib ran his tongue over his lower lip. Tasted salt. Zim didn't believe in souls, or ghosts, but he believed in these things that made him nervous.
The world seemed different now. Flipped, twisted, inverse: filled with glimmering tiny things that fuzzed peripheral vision. Alive in a very obvious way. Sending out diplomats, dignitaries, to tap at the edges of two heads: Zim and Dib. Hello, hello. Hear us. Hear me. Sit up and listen. We are talking to you, dust's children...
"I don't know what you're talking about," Zim grated back. His hands alarming, twisting and working at the wood, pulling up splinters. Lying. "Crazy human, are you seeing things again?"
Dib took to chewing on his thumb and sitting up on round-the-clock sleepless marathons, waiting for the feather-whisper of their limbs.
../end repost
New:
://002. Middles.
Somewhere they'd stepped into this without a reference point - the world had changed without either Zim or Dib noticing. Suddenly shadows were deeper. Normal things in view turned, twisted, crawled with different colors - richstrangealien. It had been leading up to this for a while now.
Howling strange, it was; an imbalance in the normal course of things. Zim didn’t like it. Dib liked it, was suited by the changes in a world slowly and subtly going mad. He’d been expecting it for a while, now, really. Really. Really.
Things are crawling out of the corners - different things, with a lot of little legs and eyes, like nothing ever seen before. Where it began? Far away, in a mystery. Where it’ll end? Some day unknown -
Until then, Dib listens to the whispers; Zim tries to shut them out.
...
These just get stranger and stranger.
://011. Red.
He coughed. Doubled over a moment and spit - sticky red. Caught it in his palm.
Zim rowled anxiously, watching the human. He jumped uneasily into the murky water - it sloshed high around his waterproofed boots as he made his way towards Dib. A soft sussurus surrounded them both. The alien looked over his shoulder to catch a gleam of red on garnet eyes. "Dib!" he howled. "What's going on?"
They met in the middle, Dib's trenchcoat tails trailing in the water. He was staring unbelievingly at his hand. When Zim grabbed him by the shoulder Dib hauled off and punched his enemy in the face - entirely on reflex. Zim yelped, staggered, slung Dib down to sprawl in the water. "Don't DO that!"
Dib coughed again. "Don't TOUCH me!" Little stripes of red garlanded his chin - he was bleeding, from the mouth. Zim sloshed a little closer, pushed at his shoulder with a foot, scanning the area anxiously - visibility was terrible, the sky drew down to an impeneterable mist a few feet in any direction.
"Get up."
“Where are we?”
Zim bared his teeth. Growled ferally. “Your head. Hell. I don’t know.”
“It’s not my fault!”
“Stupid human, everything is your fault!”
The human glared, then looked down sullenly. Zim edged a little closer to him, uneasy in the moist air surrounded by the unknown - he looked around at the trailing trees and the swampy grounds hatefully. Dib coughed again, sputtered, spit more of his blood - into the water. Was it blood? It didn’t look like blood, now. It looked thinner and brighter than blood, and it sparkled slightly.
Anxiously, Zim watched the boy as he sloshed to his feet - he imagined Dib as the hotbox of disease that he now must be, with two weeks for the hot fever to expand inside him. What was next, after coughing up blood? And he wondered if it could spread - to his own alien body. No. No.
“Should I leave you?” he asked Dib contemplatively.
“I don’t care,” the human growled. “Things would really be a lot less annoying with you around.”
The fog swirled and coalesced about them, and Zim pounced forward slightly to stand closer behind Dib. They were in Dib’s head, and whatever was there probably wouldn’t harm the being who was - in whatever way - its creator -
Or that was the supposition, at least.
Dib stomped forward, wheezing. Zim wondered if he was even going anywhere, or if the idea was to find a peaceful place to allow the things growing in him to take over.
...
I don't make sense.
://055. Spirit.
He thought - that in Dib’s head, somehow, years ago, something had cracked. Gone different, gone wrong, gone right - perhaps, in a way no human had ever gone right before. Right enough for wrong bad things to happen. Right enough for all the worlds he held to become real and make a bid for freedom.
Maybe it wasn’t a surprise after all. Dib’s head was huge. It probably had its own gravity well, and that was probably what put them into situations like this again and again. A fantasy of his takes on a certain critical mass and from there starts to draw things in -
“I hate your mind,” he said conversationally to the human. Dib glared at him.
“Well, I hate how you always seem to end up here!”
...
Such good friends are they. Kefefefefe.
I think this is getting probably too confusing. Nnnnk.
Repost: ://075. Shade.
Dib liked the lazy heat of summer, and stayed up all night in it, getting soot-dark rings around his eyes, playing shadow games on his empty wall. In the peace of absolutely early mornings he'd let himself drop off stretched on top of the bed instead of under the sheets. That was too hot even for him. In the very heights of sleep deprivation he seemed to see things crawling in the shadows around his bed. Not threatening, but mysterious with faceted eyes (sometimes red) and feathery moth-antennae and velvet-grit skin. Halfway through the day again, when it was good and hot, he'd sink up from the boggy stupor of sleep and wander out to play with Zim. They both liked shadow games, crawling through Zim's base with darkness teeming and squealing around them, getting lost in the muggy darkness of eyes and distracting, discretely-living things. Dib never wondered again if he was just seeing things when he watched Zim pause, turn, look into the shadows, then shudder and turn quickly away.
"What are they, anyway?" Dib asked, when he came into his room to find Zim crouched in the window, staring big-eyed with antennae pricked into under-the-bed shadows.
Both of them, six months ago, had felt the world shift over, flip like a pancake, and be: again. Different. Dib ran his tongue over his lower lip. Tasted salt. Zim didn't believe in souls, or ghosts, but he believed in these things that made him nervous.
The world seemed different now. Flipped, twisted, inverse: filled with glimmering tiny things that fuzzed peripheral vision. Alive in a very obvious way. Sending out diplomats, dignitaries, to tap at the edges of two heads: Zim and Dib. Hello, hello. Hear us. Hear me. Sit up and listen. We are talking to you, dust's children...
"I don't know what you're talking about," Zim grated back. His hands alarming, twisting and working at the wood, pulling up splinters. Lying. "Crazy human, are you seeing things again?"
Dib took to chewing on his thumb and sitting up on round-the-clock sleepless marathons, waiting for the feather-whisper of their limbs.
../end repost
New:
://002. Middles.
Somewhere they'd stepped into this without a reference point - the world had changed without either Zim or Dib noticing. Suddenly shadows were deeper. Normal things in view turned, twisted, crawled with different colors - richstrangealien. It had been leading up to this for a while now.
Howling strange, it was; an imbalance in the normal course of things. Zim didn’t like it. Dib liked it, was suited by the changes in a world slowly and subtly going mad. He’d been expecting it for a while, now, really. Really. Really.
Things are crawling out of the corners - different things, with a lot of little legs and eyes, like nothing ever seen before. Where it began? Far away, in a mystery. Where it’ll end? Some day unknown -
Until then, Dib listens to the whispers; Zim tries to shut them out.
...
These just get stranger and stranger.
://011. Red.
He coughed. Doubled over a moment and spit - sticky red. Caught it in his palm.
Zim rowled anxiously, watching the human. He jumped uneasily into the murky water - it sloshed high around his waterproofed boots as he made his way towards Dib. A soft sussurus surrounded them both. The alien looked over his shoulder to catch a gleam of red on garnet eyes. "Dib!" he howled. "What's going on?"
They met in the middle, Dib's trenchcoat tails trailing in the water. He was staring unbelievingly at his hand. When Zim grabbed him by the shoulder Dib hauled off and punched his enemy in the face - entirely on reflex. Zim yelped, staggered, slung Dib down to sprawl in the water. "Don't DO that!"
Dib coughed again. "Don't TOUCH me!" Little stripes of red garlanded his chin - he was bleeding, from the mouth. Zim sloshed a little closer, pushed at his shoulder with a foot, scanning the area anxiously - visibility was terrible, the sky drew down to an impeneterable mist a few feet in any direction.
"Get up."
“Where are we?”
Zim bared his teeth. Growled ferally. “Your head. Hell. I don’t know.”
“It’s not my fault!”
“Stupid human, everything is your fault!”
The human glared, then looked down sullenly. Zim edged a little closer to him, uneasy in the moist air surrounded by the unknown - he looked around at the trailing trees and the swampy grounds hatefully. Dib coughed again, sputtered, spit more of his blood - into the water. Was it blood? It didn’t look like blood, now. It looked thinner and brighter than blood, and it sparkled slightly.
Anxiously, Zim watched the boy as he sloshed to his feet - he imagined Dib as the hotbox of disease that he now must be, with two weeks for the hot fever to expand inside him. What was next, after coughing up blood? And he wondered if it could spread - to his own alien body. No. No.
“Should I leave you?” he asked Dib contemplatively.
“I don’t care,” the human growled. “Things would really be a lot less annoying with you around.”
The fog swirled and coalesced about them, and Zim pounced forward slightly to stand closer behind Dib. They were in Dib’s head, and whatever was there probably wouldn’t harm the being who was - in whatever way - its creator -
Or that was the supposition, at least.
Dib stomped forward, wheezing. Zim wondered if he was even going anywhere, or if the idea was to find a peaceful place to allow the things growing in him to take over.
...
I don't make sense.
://055. Spirit.
He thought - that in Dib’s head, somehow, years ago, something had cracked. Gone different, gone wrong, gone right - perhaps, in a way no human had ever gone right before. Right enough for wrong bad things to happen. Right enough for all the worlds he held to become real and make a bid for freedom.
Maybe it wasn’t a surprise after all. Dib’s head was huge. It probably had its own gravity well, and that was probably what put them into situations like this again and again. A fantasy of his takes on a certain critical mass and from there starts to draw things in -
“I hate your mind,” he said conversationally to the human. Dib glared at him.
“Well, I hate how you always seem to end up here!”
...
Such good friends are they. Kefefefefe.
I think this is getting probably too confusing. Nnnnk.