Yandere Toons x Reader: An Anthology of Headcanons and Scenarios

Invader Zim (Platonic Scenario - "Persona Non Grata")

"Jill's nowhere in the ship. Wasn't she with you?" The perturbation in your question was indisputable, but the captain acted as if you had pondered the colour of grass.

"That kook broke off to fix the engines," he explained, not blinking once.

Activating the receiver, you had an impulse to rebuke his nickname for Jill with a far more fitting one but decided that finding her was the chief problem. A sudden burst of static drew your attention to the walkie-talkie, an 'uh' emitting from the device for several, uninterrupted seconds before the actual message was aired. "We have an LGM in sector thirteen."

Feet halting on a short pile of rubble that overlooked the remnants of a sentry turret, you clenched the button that activated the transmitter and rose the handheld transceiver to your mouth with slow bewilderment. "Mind running that by me again?" Voicing the question and, by extension, acknowledging the possibility that the statement had not resulted from an audio glitch or a poor attempt at humour summoned an unsettled tension to your jaw.

The static returned as a fuzzy voice, too muddied by insistent pops and buzzes to assign to a particular crewmate, announced in a much more confident tone, "That is a … confirmed LGM in sector thirteen."

A small, bipedal creature with skin the colour of summer leaves was perched atop the remains of an escape pod. The debris had become too well-acquainted with the local fungus population to be fresh, yet his cerise tunic was untouched by the gales of dust and gravel circulating through the air. He hopped to the ground with practised finesse, boots crunching rocks.

The top of his head barely surpassed your knees, and his slight frame resembled that of an eleven or twelve-year-old child. "Hello, humans!" The extraterrestrial waved his three-fingered hand in a rigid, passionless manner while sporting a fake grin and elucidating in an overly cheerful tone, "I, the Almighty Zim, have crash-landed on this planet just like you."

His voice was shrill like the scream of a fox and grating like the sound of a thumb dragged across sandpaper. The lilting inflection of each sentence caused every other word to burst forth with unprecedented loudness before dwindling to a low tone. This puzzling assignment of emphasis confounded any attempt at determining his intentions, and the captain filled the lack of answers with immediate distrust.

"What do you want?" queried Darius, forehead wrinkling and eyes narrowing. The man did not refute his observation and, perhaps because of this, refused to lower his head to face Zim directly as if doing so would have been a premature show of acknowledgment.

The extraterrestrial clasped his hands together in front of his stomach, rocking back and forth on his heels and angling his head towards the ground so he had to look at you through the roof of his gaze. "In a purely hypothetical sense, who would you say is the weakest among you?" His tone was deliberately soft and quiet, the type of meek stance a predator would take to lure its prey.

Darius drew his head back and crinkled his eyes in suspicion, mouth opening slightly.

Your impassive expression was unruffled as you confirmed in a decisive tone that allowed no room for argument, "Jill." The look of shock and anger that Darius hurled in your direction was ignored, for Jill was a recreant hermit who had yet to step outside the sterile walls of the control room until this mission. As soon as her name had landed on the roster, your faith in the sanity of your superiors, a proposition that was already dubious, had plummeted to bottomless depths from which it would never resurface.