#tizziq

According to all known laws of memeification,

there is no way TizziQ should be able to meme.

His memes are too weak to get anywhere in the wide world.

The Tizzi, of course, evens and memes anyway. 

because TizziQ don’t care what rational people think is impossible.

my original poem don’t steal

This is part of a storyline requested by Thirty3DeeJays! I hope you all like it, and I think it will be an interesting part of the story! 

Day 3: (Trizzaicer)

Once upon a time, there was a guy and girl. There was love and there was joy and happiness with a side of contentment. Everyone lived happily ever after.

The beautiful, amazing, fantastic, wonderful, redundantly pleonasmic end. That’s a True FactTM

I said it’d be on the shorter side! :>

Haha

jk

good joke

I know

Real Start:

Have you ever had that feeling that something important is happening? That someone near you is making a difference? I have. Many times, by this point. I suppose you should call me spoilt, havin’ spent so much time around great heroes and all. But the thing is, no matter how often something special, amazing and inherently good happens around you, the feeling of wholesome wonder never goes away.

But you don’t have to listen to me prattle on! Trying to get you to understand what I’m saying when you haven’t felt it yourself would be like… pushing a camel into a travel suitcase! Maybe that’s not a stellar metaphor, but you get what I mean!

Here, instead of hoping you get sniped with understanding, I’ll just tell you what I mean.

* * *

They moved so fast I could hardly see them. It’d probably be a bit cliché to say they were yin and yang, shadow and light, but that’s the best description I’ve got, love.  Back and forth they went, like bolts in a thunderstorm. It was mesmerising, in a way.

From my spot up on the snow-mound I could see the exchange of blows. If there were some moments too fast to see, all I had to do was slow down time a bit to get a better look at the action.

Though the lack of witty banter was a bit of a disappointment, I was thoroughly enjoying watching other people fight for once. So, I just sat there for who knows how long, watching these two fellows trade blows.  You might ask why I didn’t join in myself. The honest answer is, I had no real idea of where I’d ended up, or who was who! Wouldn’t it be lovely to just jump in, and beat the guy who looked like the bad guy just to figure out he was the good one? Not at all. Though, my money was on the guy dressed all in black bein’ the bad one.

Maybe it’d help you if I described them. They both wore everyman’s clothes, one wearing a dark jumper and black jeans and the other wearing a blue t-shirt and unremarkable dark-wash jeans. Their weapons were interesting though. The fellow in black had a sniper rifle ‘cross the back, and a wicked looking blade in his left hand. It looked to be made of some sort of black steel, with maybe a little bit o’ carbon fiber on the guard.

Does that seem impressive? I think the other chap’s gear’d blow your mind, then. He had a sword (pretty impressive by itself I’d say) that he had honest skill with. Seems pretty normal by this point, but as soon as the dark-clothed gentleman scampered out of the way, the blade would extend (to about twenty feet, by my examination)  and push the little bugger off the high ground. Not sure how he could lift the darn thing, but there’s a lot in life that can’t be explained.

“Giving up yet?” The bloke with the rifle taunted his enemy.

Finally, some conversation, I thought. I was getting bored.

“Not on your life, I’m not!”

Not exactly witty banter, but banter nonetheless. I’d take what I could get.

After a moment of so of fighting, they backed off, panting like dogs who came in from a day in the sun.

“Why do you have to be so good?” I watched the dark-clad one’s hands, to see if they’d go for the rifle. Not so far, but we’d see.

“Why do you have to be so persistent?” The blue man’s sword retracted to a short sword length.  “If we could answer that question, I might be able to answer yours.”

“Always so condescending and pretentious.” He spat the words like they were poison. “You’re too OP for your own good. You’ve transcended the boundary of Memelord levels and XP levels alike, over twice nine thousand. It sickens me how you reign simply because you’re strong.”

“Name one bad thing I’ve done that exempts me from leading the people! I never said anything but kind words to and about you until you attacked me out of the blue!” I could see a fire in his eyes, and I liked it.

I was getting a fuller picture of this conflict, and it was surely intriguing.

The guy I was beginning to suspect was the baddie had no answer.

“I didn’t think you could.” He held out his sword in front of him, as strange letters descended from the sky, surrounding him. It hit me then that I was a fish out of water here. Nothing here was consistent to what I was used to. For example, we were on a snowy mountaintop and we were all wearing summer clothes!

“Besides,” the blue-shirt chap said. “What would you do in power? Rule simply because you’re strong?”

The enemy rolled his eyes. For a moment, I thought we made eye contact, but I ducked away. I thought he wouldn’t be able to register he saw me. I peeked over the snow mound, and I saw the enemy was pacing. The glowy letters around the other guy moved, but not the man inside.

“The thing is, I will defeat you. I cannot be stopped. I am the AntiQ and I have vowed never to rest until your rest is permanent!”

Bit of a cheesy line, I thought, coming out to stand. I might intervene if things got hairy.

“Good luck with that.”

The enemy’s response was a cheeky grin.

“What?” I could hear confusion in the blue knight’s voice.

The next thing the dark-clothed man did shocked me. He turned towards me, on the mountain side, and winked!

I saw, as if in slow motion, (and I would know what that feels like) the blue gentleman turn his head. A his head turned, the gunshot sounded. That was such a dirty trick! Baiting him to look away and drop his defenses!

I turned on my chronal accelerator, zipping towards them. There was no way I could land a shot from this distance, I’m not Widowmaker. I saw the enemy’s shot land in the right shoulder, and red crystalline blood go flying outward as he fell backwards. I don’t know how he landed the shot through the text wall, but like I said earlier, some things can’t be explained.

As soon as I could, I shot at him. He seemingly zipped in and out of existence (copycat! that’s my move!) avoiding my shots. I heard an expletive or two, but I’m not entirely sure where they came from.

He retreated up to the high ground, aiming his rifle. Reflexes kicked in as I waited for the shot.

BOOM!

Holy—

BOOM!

I couldn’t avoid these shots, they were like cannonballs!

A huge chunk of the ground was carved out by the next BOOM, and so I ran towards the fallen warrior. The text walls had dissipated, so I was able to scoop him up and carry him a short distance behind a cliff.

We’re not safe… Where should we hide? I was surprised by how light he was, it was almost like he was weightless! It couldn’t be a normal effect, but I was determined to use it to my advantage. I picked him up again and dashed to a narrow canyon.

When I was sure we had escaped sniper fire, I laid him down on the rock and examined the wound.

Standard gun wound to the shoulder, beneath the clavicle. If we’re lucky it won’t have shattered bone. If we’re unlucky…

He stirred. “Thanks…”

“No problem.” I said, looking to get a better approximation. The bullet had gone clear through the shoulder, which could be a good thing, but he was losing blood. Speaking of which—

“You… look… familiar.”

I stopped him before he could continue. He was losing blood fast, and he was likely on the edge of consciousness. I eyed the blood trail behind us. At this rate, the enemy would track us down. I had few options.

“Take this,” I mumbled, tearing off a good chunk of my coatsleeve and stuffing it over the wound. “We’ve got to go.” I picked him up again and dashed away, eying the thinning blood trail. I didn’t have time to evaluate if that was because he was dying or because covering part of the wound was lessening the flow. I put my arm under the hole in the back of his shoulder and ran under an outcropping, behind a bush.

A moment later, our hunter appeared. “Come out, come out, where ever you are! I know you’re out here, little missy.”

No one calls me “little missy.” I raised the gun in my right hand, aiming for his head. I was about to pull the trigger when I felt a tap on the arm. The blue-shirt bloke was shaking his head, signaling that I shouldn’t shoot. I furrowed my brows, but didn’t shoot. Eventually, the enemy walked away, leaving eerie silence behind.

“Thanks.” He said, again. Quietly, softly, he said, “Call me Q.”

“No problem. I’m--”

He fell over, weak. His eyes fought to stay open, I knew I needed to think, fast. What could I do that would save him? I paced around, hoping. A spark of an idea blossomed in my mind like a daylily in the summertime. “Cheers, love,” I said, reverting back to habit. “The--”

“cavalry’s here…”

(holy raviolli I wrote a lot)

Day One, Part Two (Memestream POV, Feat. The Duck From Mars)

A shriek sounded out loud, but it wasn’t from me. My Harambe Smash bounced off of the IMPACT wall as I skidded backwards to a slow, dusty stop.

“You shouldn’t underestimate me.” The duckman’s grin was unnerving. At least this wasn’t even my final form, and I was nowhere near fully leveled. I lunged forward at the IMPACT wall, trying to see how much it would take to weaken it. Wow, this’ guy’s Memelord level is way high. Way high. Not as high as mine, though.

I suppose the most unnerving thing was that the duckman wasn’t doing anything. He was just standing there, watching his Memecash go up, slowly and steadily.

My XP bar reached level three with a dinging sound, and I selected the skill “dual wield.” I felt a mirror image of my Dogic weapon rest its way into my hands. I closed my eyes as I focused my powers.

I heard the duckman’s XP bar hit level two and my eyes snapped open. A sardonic grin crossed his duck-bill face as he used his new skill. Meme after meme shot out at me, paper thin but razor sharp. I dodged them, barely impressed. This was a standard IMPACT skill. It used Memecash to produce memes. Because Impact has a high Memecash per second rate, producing deadly memes was a standard loadout for Impact Memelords.

Still, my Comic Sans dexterity allowed me to dance around those memes like a piece of cake. It wasn’t even pushing the limit of what I could do, and this duckman would learn that the hard way. I attacked him with more standard doge attacks, but they barely chipped the cylindrical barrier around him. I backed off, it was time to make a new strategy. I knew I could win, but the thing was finding the right meme for the job.

“Are you going to let me join?” The duckman taunted behind his stupid text wall.

“This battle isn’t over yet.” My XP bar shot up, shooting me to level four. Tropes can be a powerful weapon, I realized I should use them more often. I decided maybe I should take it a step or so further. “Do you know why I’m a Tri-Knight?” This strategy would work for two things, I could delay the fight and gather Trope based XP for my level five Ultimate.

“No.” The duckman didn’t look to interested but I continued.”

“I do it for my family.” Not really, but the Trope power was really through the roof. “They all died in a tragic battle at my village. Want to know the cause?”

“Not really.” He prepared a large meme. Timing would be key here.

“It was an Impact Memelord. His level was egregiously high, but I managed to kill him with only a stick and my mental focus. I called down Comic Sans and smited his sorry butt to hell.”

All fabrications, lies. Yet it worked. My level shot up to five and a half, and I silently picked my skill. It was called WalkThrouWalls, and it allowed the user to pass through barriers, like the IMPACT one.

“Cool story bro. 3Cool5me.” He rolled his eyes.

I rushed towards him, swords drawn, Comic Sans surrounding me and filling me with meme power. I was a level five, up against this level two nitwit. He stood no chance. I Naruto ran so quickly I was sure he couldn’t see it. I got closer and closer to my target, ready to land the final strike--

“YOU SHALL NOT PASS!”

I slammed into the barrier, even with WTW on. How--

“Underestimating me again.” The duckish grin returned as he unleashed the biggest meme straight for my face. I only had one choice. I raised my sword straight up as the meme flew straight towards me. As the meme hit my blade it split in two and flew off to each side. As the air cleared, I attacked the IMPACT shield with all of my righteous, Tri-Knight fury.

As the battle grew long, I felt Comic Sans grow weaker around me. I had to renew it, with a special attack. I used my Memecash to use a skill Dogic weapons are known for.

“much wow” “such powa” “large eytack”

They cracked the IMPACT shield. A horrible feeling descended upon me, I knew what he would do next. His sword was built for it.

“Never Gonna Give You Up!”

His shield regenerated, leaving me with a twitch in the eye and a rage that couldn’t be stopped. The only way to beat this duckmanalien interloper was to call upon doge himself.

“I call upon your much power with such wow and many ador8tions. Defend your warrior and help me smite him with very such vengants!”

Doge floated down from the sky, that always-amused look present on his beautiful face.

The duckish man’s only response was not to me, but to Rick Astley. “I know you will never give me up or desert me, so come to my aid so that I may fix this Memelord’s ego!”

I heard the song before I saw Rick Astley.

Doge and Rick crashed in the sky, with their full powers. We both knew the battle was in someone else’s hands now. As we rushed towards each other for a final attack, there was a flash. Someone would be a victor when I woke from unconsciousness.

When I woke, I heard Doge’s voice in my head.

“he is strong

i dont think he d evr give up

least u dint lose man”

“I guess it’s a draw,” I said. I could see that the ceiling had a huge chunk out of it. Better see if the Mistresses will fix that.

“I suppose so.” The duckman sheathed his sword. “Will you let me join, now that I’ve proved my skill?”

I rubbed the back of my neck. “Well, I would,” I looked to the floor. “But I can’t, on principle.”

“What do you mean!?” I saw fire in the duckman’s eyes.

“Well, we are called the Tri-Knights.” I gestured towards our table in the other room.  “We have a triangle shaped table, with the illuminati eye on it. We have floating three-pointed doritos everywhere.”

The duckman was silent.

“See what I mean? If I let you join, we’d have to call ourselves the Quad-Knights. That doesn’t roll off the tongue like Tri-Knights does.”

The duckman took a deep breath, and prepared to argue. I stopped him before he could continue.

“What I can do is make you a sort of pseudo-member. You can come to all the meetings and missions, but you aren’t technically a Tri-Knight O’ Tizzi. I guess you technically don’t get to come to Tri-Knight parties, but--”

“I’ll take it.” The duckman extended a feathery hand, which I shook vigorously. “By the way, call me Marduck.”

“Call me Memestream.”

Though I assumed he was happy, I couldn’t shake the fact that I should keep an eye on him. I had a feeling I’d end out mysteriously dead in my sleep if I wasn’t careful. It’s a good thing that I’m careful.

Today, we had a request to join our ranks. A strange ducky person came up to me the other day, while I was polishing my memesword.

“I request to join the Tri-Knights!”

I stood still for a moment. Was this guy serious? One does not simply join the Tri-Knights. I told him so.

“But my meme abilities are just as good as yours.”

There was dead silence. Shots had been fired, and it was about to get like Harambe up in this house. This douchecanoe had no idea what he was in for. “Prove it,” I said, brandishing my sword engraved with the face of the great Doge. (It said “much wow” on the crossguard in technicolor lettering)

To my surprise, he brandished a memesword himself. I peered in to examine the engraving. My eyes twitched as I saw what was engraved on the stark, silver weapon. “Never gonna give you up.” Rick Astley’s serene, beautiful face watched me from the blade of my duckish enemy’s sword. This was going to be fun. “If you think you’re better than me, fight me in a battle of memes. Then I’ll consider letting you join.”

“I won’t lose.”

He sounds like a stereotypical anime hero. For a Memelord (one blessed with the powers to utilize memes as weapons) this use of stereotypical tropes powers you up. Eventually, his power level could go over nine thousand and he could gain the fabled buff called…. Plot armor. Total invincibility. He would be protected by the overlords who saw the stereotypical anime hero. The fact that he was quite obviously a duckman/alien might detract from his stereotypical hero nature, but I couldn’t quite call that one for sure.

I dropped low into a Super Saiyan crouch, hands outward in fists. They started to glow with orange energy, filling me with the power. My dogic meme sword floated in front of me, point up to the sky. “Comic Sans, I call on thee!” I shouted at the top of my lungs, shaking dust and grit from the ceiling above. Soon, rainbow letters gathered around me in a double helix, granting me their powers and giving me protection.

“Ah, good opener,” said the duck man. “It’s good that I have my own patron font as well.” He dropped down into the Marge Krump and shouted as loud as he could: “Impact, glorious font of memeical power, bring your powers down to me so that I may slay this poor soul.” (Impact is the font that most picture memes use)

The font dropped down in columns around him, forming a near impenetrable barrier. I knew I would have to break out a strong meme to get an advantage in the early game and earn enough XP per second to be overleveled later on. This duck was already a strong opponent, before the battle started. “I can haz  VICTORY!!!!”

My XP per second shot up, and I saw the duckman’s eyes go wide. Only the high-up Memelords could use the “haz clause,” it was considered one of the strongest weapons. My XP meter was nearing level two, while his was only half as far. I grinned an evil grin. My Memecash bank had less than his, but that was completely expected.

See, Comic Sans is a font that allows for quick movement and dexterity. Its final ability allows you to become invisible, and then explode into rainbow colored light for a final attack. Impact, on the other hand, focuses on a high defense and a constant production of memes to boost Memecash. Memecash can be traded in for in-battle buffs. Impact is a font for the long game, whereas comic sans makes the game short.

We both watched our XP levels rise. Mine hit level two, and quickly, I selected the skill that I would use, the skill that would end the battle. “Harambe Smash.”  A deadly attack that could break any defense.

I ran towards my enemy, screaming like a mad gorilla. He raised his sword to parry, and the battle began.

Mistresses:

We gathered in the cathedral. The day was closing, and the forces of the AntiQ were marshaling for a final attack. We discussed the battle plan, unsure of how to defeat the vile forces that supported Tyler Tran, the one who would usurp the King of Memes, TizziQ. Our initial idea was to eliminate them one by one with our dark powers, but they just kept coming back. There was no way we could defeat them that way, we needed a good plan. Perhaps it was time to contact them. The ones sworn to protect the beautiful memes, the ones who would take multiple arrows to both knees to protect his glorious dignity. Those. The Tri-Knights.

Tri-Knights:

Those filthy, filthy AntiQuians. They would usurp our great king, our glorious Q, and steal his name for their own. We were in disagreement at the time about whether to consult with the Mistresses about the vermin, but we knew they would submit to our greater methods of elimination when they showed up on our doorstep. The memes would live and we would be victorious.

AntiQuians: