I warned you that Wirt was only the beginning with these things! Today we will be tackling everyone's favourite Irken Invader, Zim. I would tell you to go watch Invader Zim but I can't find a streaming service that has episodes anymore and it makes me sad. Anywho, I hope you enjoy!

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You'd always kind of make your own rules about how your world is supposed to work. And that certainly hasn't changed just because you're on ours now.

Of course, the original vision you had of fire and brimstone tearing cracks through the seams of planets isn't exactly what you got upon your arrival. But you would never doubt its approach. Or maybe you simply can't allow yourself to doubt it.

Because they'll have to take you seriously, once you finally get your chance to show them all. Once you remind them that you are a warrior built from razor blades and snake venom. Then they will cower before your empire, and you will watch them grovel and laugh.

That dream, however distant, makes it all worth it. Even if you despise every second you have to spend with humans. Even if the monarchs you look up to believe you are a tiny ladybug dropped off in a garden you could not possibly conquer.

So you will wait, and keep your claws sheathed until the moment to strike finally arrives. You will pretend to be submissive or sickly, to make friends, and day by day convince everyone you're harmless. No matter how much your blood boils with loathing on the inside.

Well, that's what you would do if it wasn't for him. That one vexing human raised on test tubes and celestials who will not stop getting in your way. Things would be so much easier if he just acted like everybody else, if he just left well enough alone.

Then again, he certainly makes the purgatory you seem trapped in feel less lifeless. He even takes you seriously, not only acknowledging the bombshells in your eyes but properly fearing them. Which is more than anyone else has ever done for you.

Your own kind sent you on a mission primed for failure with little to no instructions and an assistant who, while he means well, can barely keep himself duct-taped together some days. The other humans ignore you at best and scorn you at worst. I've never blamed you for forging your resentment into a dagger-like tongue so you could scathe them all.

So you will wait, and dig your claws into furniture with the anticipation. You will dream of the day you can sit on a gilded throne and crush the universe in the palm of your hand. Because nobody can look down on you then.

But deep down I think you're made of softer stuff, even if you would never admit it. Lime zest and raspberry coulis and the wisps of fear you cannot let yourself show. So you collect the pieces of shrapnel left behind from victories that never were and cloak yourself in armour.

Never let your guard down, you remind yourself, because you are a soldier and soldiers can't afford to become soft. You can't afford to become soft. Not if you want to prove that things really are going to be different this time around.

Because you still remember the volcanos of oil splattering melty amber onto your clothes. The festering disdain for your banishment that you decided to nurture because they'd all be sorry one day. You would make them sorry. Show them that they should've been nicer to you, shouldn't have underestimated what you were truly capable of.

And really, I think they should have been afraid of how dangerous you could be when you put your mind to it. Because you are not just some harmless ladybug and never were. You have always been a black widow, eager for a chance to bear your fangs and prove yourself.

It's a shame how they underestimated your intelligence. How they always mistook your eagerness or confusion for incompetence. They never saw the snares you were weaving right beneath their feet and now they never will.

You wanted to tear this world to bloody ribbons and hang up the aftermath like streamers. But now, something always seems to hold you back. That semblance of company, perhaps not friendship, but someone to share in the feeling of being an outcast.

So what does it really matter if he stops you or you decide to give yourself an off day? Why concern yourself with the wants of rulers that barely acknowledge when you check in? This planet is still yours, and if you play your cards right maybe you can forge it into someplace you can call home.

I think you deserve that. Even when your enthusiasm leaves behind trails of chaos and scorch marks. Because at least then I can be sure that you're happy.