Alien, a fifty-sentence-challenge Invader Zim 'fic
by Golden Snowflake :D
Rating: K-M (and a bit of ZADR, kiddies!)

Coma. "I know you can hear me," he whispered, voice cracking, fingers clenching into the fabric of the bedsheets, "Please."

Warmth. Zim buried himself within the crook of Dib's neck, closing his eyes and thanking every deity conceived for the bliss that was human warmth.

Shadows. The barrel glinted in the dull buzz of one swinging light, the mindless, empty eye a staring shadow as his finger tightened on the trigger. "Say goodbye, spaceboy."

Sunset. "What's your problem?" demanded Gaz, the sunset glinting off of her lollipop, "Thinking about your boyfriend again?"

Driven. They say you can't rationalize suicide, but Dib thought otherwise as his vision blurred, the image of a glaring green silhouette flickering into his mind as a final tear slipped down his cheek.

Motorcycle. Well, not exactly- as Gir cackled maniacally on his lap and he held onto Zim's tiny waist for dear life, Dib decided that anything traveling at the speed of light couldn't count as a motorcycle.

Airport. "I honestly don't see what the problem is," Zim said to the officer, looking innocently away from the smiling robotic face on the scanner's screen above the suitcase.

Ancient. Zim raised an eyebrow at the use of such an inaccurate adjective before pointing out "In Irken years, you would be half a year old, foolish hyuuuman!"

Window. He refused to acknowledge the comfort he found in seeing the gleam of round glasses once again shining through the pane of glass across the street.

Angel. It an odd way, the rainy light that washed in through the drapes made the beautiful, slender boy seem angelic.

Roses. The squeals of eager children pierced the silence as the office assistants brought the valentines into the room, making Dib wake up with a start and Zim wonder why none of the bouquets were addressed to him.

Innocence. The alien blinked at him, all pretences dropped. "What is this… love?"

Imagination. The sound of thrashing filled the quiet as his imagination ran wild and the hellish nightmare pushed him deeper into the mystery of the monster that lived down the street.

Kingdom. A toothy grin spread across Zim's face as he imagined that voice multiplied a thousand fold, the way it would be when he one day ruled the Earth and all prayers would be directed toward him.

Options. In his mind's eye, he saw his fist connect with the cocky smirk- for a split second he actually thought he was going to follow through, too.

Nurturing. He ran his fingers down Dib's back, getting the Irken equivalent of goosebumps at the sleepy sound of delight that wafted from the human's lips.

Crest. "Oh, Zim-" His head lolled back and tears escaped his eyes as his nails dug into the slender body shuddering over him.

Cactus. Gir giggled when his scowling master stomped across the threshold, adorned with the newest thing to lodge itself in his skin since he'd started his quest to sell candy bars.

Passion. And in the wake of his own dull existence, Dib felt a pang of admiration for the enthusiasm in his rival's ruby stare.

Picturesque. No, seriously- the wind ruffling his raven hair and the fabric of his trench coat, coupled with the captivating stare beneath his long eyelashes… it was breathtaking.

Reflection. He glared at himself as he passed the mirror and his antennae drooped minutely, a flicker of doubt shifting in the depths of his eyes. "Pathetic humans… I am not a… freak."

Festive. That's what Dib's father called him after adorning him in a scarf made completely of recycled dust from Jupiter's volcano (though Dib wished he could just get a normal Christmas present for a change.)

Pristine. "Having its original purity," Dib proclaimed before Zim could get a syllable out, ignoring the livid glare from Miss Bitters.

Creation. The sound that escaped the alien's throat felt almost sentient as it wafted through the air; melted into the child's neck.

Tapestry. The ugly, expensive fabric gave a thwap of warning as Zim shoved Dib up against the wall, not caring that the clothes were expensive and the honored guests were only one thin door away.

Grandeur. The crowd of green creatures guffawed in delight at Zim's latest delusion the minute the screen went blank.

Lavish. As in, "Gaz was horrified when she walked into the living room to find her brother lavishing his supposed mortal enemy in aggressively hungry kisses on the couch."

Historical. "This Obama fellow seems extremely good at destroying human lives," he said to Gir, who was nibbling at a shelled pistachio, "I must meet him."

Mistletoe. It was ridiculously awkward and clichéd, but the gloved hands gripping shoulders and half-frowns of determination as their mouths smashed together were entirely worth it.

Mythical. He really didn't like to think of Zim as a real threat, but as the three-headed mutant dog snarled, towering above him as its master encouraged it, he really began to consider it.

Longevity. What annoyed her the most was that after three long years, their stupid obsession with one another still existed under the guise of being rivals.

Romantic. It wasn't the first word to appear in Dib's mind when Zim thrust a half-wilted dandelion at him, looking decidedly irritated.

Visionary. Dib almost yelled that he hadn't been kidding when the alien burst out laughing at this statement before he realized that Zim probably knew that already.

Shamrock. He blinked in fascination at the beetle as it plodded quietly across the clover, amazed that such a tiny creature could exist in a world of such idiocy and destruction.

Wheelchair. It didn't occur to him 'til much later that he probably wouldn't have a phobia of the things if Gir hadn't been pushing the first one he'd ever ridden in.

Celestial. Dib smiled vaguely at the idea, watching his beloved lie in the grass; watching the stars reflected in his wide eyes.

Bravado. The fire blazed behind him as he puffed his chest out and put his hands on his little hips. "I AM ZIIIM!"

Campfire. "HEY!" Dib cried, staring helplessly as his latest issue of Yeti Watchers Monthly was lapped up by the flames and Gaz uttered dully: "If you'd at least pretend to enjoy spending time with us I wouldn't hate you so much."

Cocktail. Dib leaned his head back and downed the rest of his drink as Zim fidgeted, for the first time feeling rather out of his element.

Chocolate. "I thought this was something humans eat," Zim said as Dib ran the half-melted wafer across his slender green stomach, leaving a winding trail behind it; the boy smiled and said, "I'll get to that if you can stop squirming for two seconds…"

Cloud. The soft warmth of the sheets and the whoosh of Dib's gentle breath made him feel like he was up in the sky on one of the puffy things that lumbered above this hefty planet.

Cinnamon. He shifted warily to the other foot at his rival sprinkled something dark and fragrant into either cup of hot chocolate and tugged at the scarf Gir had knitted him. "This truce will be over the second the clock strikes midnight, Dib-stink."

Groovy. "It's from Scooby Doo," Gir exclaimed, as if this would do anything to dissipate his master's bewilderment at the word he had just screeched.

Happy. It was not an emotion for the Irken elite, it was not.

Sad. Stunned, Zim blinked at Dib- that wasn't how he was supposed to react.

Lick. The acrid sting of the saliva against the base of one antenna made him whimper in discomfort but in simultaneous bliss.

Hurt. As fate would have it, the little creature hadn't been born with the ability to cry- he only huddled in his seat, face against his knees and his tiny body shaking with exhaustion and shame.

Mountain. Dib heaved himself up over the ledge, and for a brief moment he wondered if in some alternate dimension children were gleefully watching his escapade as a bad cartoon.

Rain. It poured down on the roof, pelting the world in an otherworldly ambiance… one that made falling asleep sitting between her stupid brother and stupid Zim actually possible.

Strange. At the intergalactic trading post, nobody thought anything of a gangly human and a midget of an Irken arguing like an old married couple.

Shampoo. Yes, Zim's attempt at putting mind-control probes in Dib's shampoo was a complete failure, but it was a pretty good idea.

Chew. "I can't make it stop being all… gummy," the green boy said, gnawing at the wad of pink in his cheek.

Giggle. Dib gawked at his sister, dumbfounded at hearing a piping laugh as she sat across from the green earless kid wearing an Elvis wig.

Rubber. It's what the dark stalk felt like when Dib brushed his lips against it, eliciting a throaty moan from the creature between him and the wall.

Band. It wasn´t really his style, but when he heard that Zim had somehow made it into the percussion section, Dib wasn´t going to be outdone.

Teeth. Sure, they didn't look sharp, but when they dug into the base of his spine, he discovered that looks could deceive.

Hot. The heat filled the room with anxiety and a haughty kind of irritation that amplified every glare and made every minute seem to drag its heels as the chalk clicked against the board.

Gopher. When the door opened on Halloween night, Dib held his breath, praying that he wouldn't be recognized in his Bigfoot costume- the green, bulgy-eyed dog that screeched "HI, GOPHER!" assuaged his worries almost immediately.

Underwear. His boxers were black and baggy and the hung off of his slender hips just enough that the boy monitoring the camera almost acknowledged to himself that he wanted to see just a little more.

Sneeze. It startled everybody, making the entire playground jump in surprise… especially because it was just so squeaky.

Marshmallow. He breathed in the warmth of the cocoa, testing one of the dissolving white puffs with his pine-colored lips.

Frown. It was annoying, Dib decided; while his glares weren't the least bit intimidating, the invader's had a cool intensity that almost made him have to look away.

Roto-rooter. It took approximately four hours of pleading before Zim finally conceded and let Gir bring his new best friend into the house.

Ice cream. And as he watched the alien slurp at the scoop of hard-served cinnamon ice cream with wide-eyed fascination, he almost wished he could just sit down next to him and say hi instead of having to sneak up and shove the green face down into it.

Cat. It was the only word that came to mind when Zim stretched and yawned, his antennae laying back against hit head: catlike.

Pickle. The blush crept over the Irken's face before he knew it was coming and he turned away, wincing at the ear-splitting crunch.

Volkswagen. The jocks were laughing loudly from their circle, all muscles and immaculate haircuts and arrogance thick enough to smell, and the skaters were slouched against the building as kids spilled out the doors toward their cars; but even now, Dib hung his elbow out the window and Zim cranked the bass up, and he felt like he was the coolest human on Earth.

This was SO much fun. The 50-sentence prompt is definitely a challenge.

I hope you don't mind that there was a wee bit of ZADR sprinkled in there. I just discovered IZ, and I got addicted to ZADR simultaneously, so it's hard to differentiate between canon and the twisted fantasies. :3

If any of you are followers of my fanfic "Hold Me," I promise I'll update. I just think it's better to wait for the inspiration to return than to update immediately if my heart's not in it.

Which ones were your favorite? Click that little "Review" button and tell!

:D