#kadf

i'm plenty warm, so...

Passing from one realm into another really isn't as cool as it looks in the movies. RIP Zim's internal organs.

A potato on a string did sound pretty funny, but that wasn’t the reason Keef was smiling. “I know, sorry, it’s not that !” He rubbed his face, trying to cover his mouth. “It’s just – when you get all ranty like that, sometimes you sound just like Z – um.”

Keef cut himself off before the full word, but the laughter died in his throat as he saw Dib tense, the movement of his pencil scribbling to a stop. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like…”

“What are you sorry for?” Dib set down his pencil and lifted his chin, his expression hardening, challenging. “What do you think’s gonna happen – I’ll fly into a murderous rage if you so much as mention his name? Think you’ll be next?” He chuckled, bitter, devoid of any joy. “You know, I don’t give a shit that everyone thinks I’m crazy. I’m done trying – why should I even care if everyone in this skool – on this planet – is happier in their own little bubble, like you, blissfully ignorant to reality? But knowing that they think I’m a – that I actually…” His voice cracked, like something inside him was breaking, but then he sighed, looking back down at his sketch. “Forget it. I didn’t kill Zim. But why should that matter? It’s not like anyone around here is ever interested in the truth anyway, right?”

read the rest on AO3!! “- but not only was that theory discredited years ago, it’s so obvious he faked the whole thing! His ‘Jersey devil,’ was literally a potato on a string!” He sketched furiously as he spoke, voice rising with indignation on every word. “And somehow I’m the one who – hey, it’s not funny, I’m serious!”

A potato on a string did sound pretty funny, but that wasn’t the reason Keef was smiling. “I know, sorry, it’s not that !” He rubbed his face, trying to cover his mouth. “It’s just – when you get all ranty like that, sometimes you sound just like Z – um.”

Keef cut himself off before the full word, but the laughter died in his throat as he saw Dib tense, the movement of his pencil scribbling to a stop. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like…”

“What are you sorry for?” Dib set down his pencil and lifted his chin, his expression hardening, challenging. “What do you think’s gonna happen – I’ll fly into a murderous rage if you so much as mention his name? Think you’ll be next?” He chuckled, bitter, devoid of any joy. “You know, I don’t give a shit that everyone thinks I’m crazy. I’m done trying – why should I even care if everyone in this skool – on this planet – is happier in their own little bubble, like you, blissfully ignorant to reality? But knowing that they think I’m a – that I actually…” His voice cracked, like something inside him was breaking, but then he sighed, looking back down at his sketch. “Forget it. I didn’t kill Zim. But why should that matter? It’s not like anyone around here is ever interested in the truth anyway, right?”