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foreveradreamlover · 4 years

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amores que matan parte 1

so yes, here it is. My first attempt at writing a semi-decent body of work. There will be a number of warnings so make sure to go through them before preceding. Enjoy! (I apologize in advance for the formatting, I use Tumblr on my phone 🥴) @lavenderhoney12 thank you for inspiring me to write this, I wouldn’t have wrote it at all without you 🤩💖

warnings: young naive reader, terrible Spanish and English translations, work has not been proofread, angst, hurt, power dynamics, future throuple between Miguel-Maria-Reader, possible dubious consent because of the power dynamic, possible dark undertones, talk of abortion and infedelity. Idk what else I’m missing but I’m sure I hit all the marks without giving it all away.

Sometimes you wished you hadn’t met Felix and Maria. Your life would have been so much easier if you hadn’t crossed paths with them and fallen for both of them. And as you laid between them in their marital bed, you realized your life was going to get a lot more complicated now. You stared at the ceiling, feeling tears well up in your eyes. The guilt began to eat you up, the regret sank in.

You don’t belong here, you have no place here. There was no room for you in their marriage, no matter how spacious their bed was. A marriage is a commitment between two people, a third was not possible. You managed to hold in your sobs as you realized how royally fucked you were because you didn’t want to wake them up. You already felt terrible enough, you didn’t want them to make you feel even worse by trying to justify it.

But how did you get into this mess?

The events of the night before were hazy but as you wiped your tears it all became clear again.

You began yesterday morning like any other morning in the Felix household. It was your responsibility to wake up Abril and Miguelito, as you were the full time nanny, and get them ready for the day. It was the best job you ever had, honestly. You love those two like your own and they were great kids. After the kids were taken to school, you left a two weeks notice letter on Maria’s desk when you returned back to the house.

The rest of the day was anxiety inducing, you spent the majority of your time trying to steer clear from Maria but also trying to complete the chores like organizing Abril’s closet. Eventually, you couldn’t hide from her anymore when Maria managed to have Abril trick you into meeting outside by the pool.

“Gracias mi amor. (Thank you my love)” María smiled at Abril as the little girl practically dragged you outside, knowing that the plan had worked just as she predicted. “Ahora puedes jugar con tu hermanito. Pero no juegan aquí, necesito hablar con tu niñera. (You van go play with your brother now. But you cannot play here, I need to speak with your nanny)”

Abril nodded and before you could make up another excuse, Maria held up your letter.

“¿Qué chingados es esto? (What the fuck is this?)” Maria was never one to beat around the bush, it almost made you regret dropping the notice on Maria’s desk instead of Felix’s.

Felix at least would have accepted it and not confronted you about it. He knew you were replaceable. Maria on the other hand surprised you. At the most you expected a slight sadness but never anger.

“¿Lo leíste? (You read it?)” you cringed, watching Maria’s eyebrows furrow even deeper.

“¡Cómo no! (Of course!)” she noticed you taking a step back before reeling her anger back in, “Perdón, a la mejor estoy un poco confundida. Pense que estabas feliz aqui, cuidando a mis hijos. Fue hace unas pocas semanas cuando me dijiste que estabas la mas feliz que ha sentido en tu vida. ¿Qué cambió? Y no quiero mentiras, quiero la verdad. (Sorry, maybe I’m a bit confused. I thought you were happy here, taking care of my kids. It was just a few weeks ago when you told me that you were the happiest you have ever felt in your life. What changed? And I don’t want to hear your lies, I want the truth.)”

When she asked you that question, you felt your heart beat so fast that you swore even Maria could hear it. You looked at Maria’s face and you knew in that instant that no matter how hard you tried, you would never be able to lie to her. You cared too much about her to lie. Especially in her face when she’s asking for the truth. Even if the truth may scare her or make her despise you, she would have to respect it. She asked so you had to deliver.

You took a deep breath, feeling your eyes starting to water up and causing Maria to give a concerning look. She was about to walk closer to you when you lightly put you hand up to indicate her that you were fine.

“Yo - yo no sé cómo decir esto. Honestamente, no pensé que te lo diría, cara a cara pronto así. No estoy segura que puedo hacerlo. Es different pensarlo que decirlo. Creo que podría morir aquí antes de poder decirlo...(I—I don’t know how to say this. Honestly, I didn’t think I would say it, face to face this soon. I’m not sure if I can do it. It’s different thinking it than saying it aloud. I think I could die before I could say it)” Your voice wavered, Maria’s face suddenly blurry from the tears shedding from your eyes at an alarming rate.

It was like all the tears you had refused to shed for months had finally decided to come out now.

“Mija... puedes decirlo. No sé qué es lo que tienes dentro pero tienes que dejarlo salir. Puedo ver que está haciendo más daño solo por estar dentro de ti. Suéltalo, te vas a sentir mejor si lo hagas. (Honey, you can say it. I don’t know what it is inside you but you have to let it out. I can see that it’s doing more bad being inside of you. Let it go, you’ll feel better if you do that)”

You didn’t know how but those words gave you the last needed to push to finally say it.

“Maria, me gustas desmiasado. No tenía idea de que querer a alguien así podría doler tanto. Pensé que enamorarme de alguien sería hermoso como una rosa, pero las espinas me pellizcaron... Si hubiera sabido que enamorarme de ti me haría sentir así, me habría ido antes. Me quedé porque pensé que podría superarlo. Pero no puedo, así que es mejor que me vaya. Te ruego que me dejes ir. (María, I like you too much. I had no idea that liking someone would hurt so much. I thought falling in love with someone would be beautiful like a rose but the thorns pinched me. If I knew that loving you would make me feel this way, I would have left sooner. I stayed longer than I should have because I thought I would get over it. But I can’t, so it’s better if I leave. I beg you to let me leave.)” Your words came out slurred, you weren’t even sure if it was audible through the sobs.

You felt incredibly vulnerable, your vision unclear and your mind foggy. You hadn’t a clue where Maria stood or if she was even there. All you felt was your heart breaking each passing second you heard silence. You just poured out your heart of all the thoughts you harbored for months, did she know you were happy because you were in love with her? Your happiness was just a facade, it was the rose colored glasses that made you think this was love. Love couldn’t possibly feel this cruel and hurtful.

You were about to wipe your tears when you felt a pair of hands cup your face. The thumbs carefully wiped away your tears, allowing for some relief from the waterfalls pouring out of your eyes. You relished in their touch, not knowing how good it was just to be in contact with another person. You were truly touch starved and even their simple brush of your tears was enough to heal some of your deep-seated wounds you possessed. You were broken and it took one unattainable love to make you realize.

“Ya, ya. Suelta todo que tienes dentro de ti. Te vas a sentir mejor cuando todo esto se termine. (Now, now. Let go of everything inside you. You’ll feel much better when all of this is done.)” María whispered, pulling you closer to her and stroking your hair. You shuddered and felt like the tears would never be able to stop. Maria didn’t yell at you like expected, she pitied you. You honestly didn’t know what was worse. You got to be in Maria’s arms but for the wrong reasons.

You’re so stupid, you thought to yourself. You can’t compete with Felix, which you still had unrealized feelings for by the way. He’s the breadwinner and father to her children, you’re just a stupid nanny who fell in love with someone she couldn’t have.

Having your face buried in Maria’s shoulder only made you feel more in love with her in a fucked up away. Her compassion towards you made you fall harder. With this embrace, you could smell the expensive floral and sweet perfume and feel her in a way you could have only imagined before this exchange. It would have probably hurt you less if she pushed you off her and refused to see you again. At least then you would know to move on. This unexpected reaction from Maria has left you confused. This hug seemed too friendly for a simple embrace.

“¡Señora! (Mrs!)” fellow employee called out, a phone in her hand. “Habla Señor Felix! (Mr. Felix is calling!)”

And just like that, the things you thought you could only dream of crumbled as Maria took her hand out of your hair and sighed. Maria turned to the elderly woman, giving a weak smile, “Por favor dígale que no puedo atender el teléfono. Estoy un poco preocupada en este momento. (Please tell him I’m not able to come to the phone. I’m busy at the moment.)”

The older woman nodded, heading back inside as Maria pulled you back in for another warm hug. You tried to make words, feeling your lips tremble every time you attempted to say something. Your mouth felt dry and your head throbbed with pain. You weren’t sure if you would have any tears left after this episode, they were coming all at once.

“Creo que deberíamos entrar a la casa. Tu cara se siente caliente. (I think we should head inside. Your face feels hot.)” María pulled back to examine your face, a worried expression on her own face when she put the back of her hand on your forehead.

You nodded weakly, suddenly remembering you two were talking outside the whole time. You really hoped nobody heard walking by. The future was uncertain now. Maria neither accepted or rejected your two weeks notice and now that she knows that you loved her, the chances of her being comfortable around you were probably slim to none. You couldn’t blame her if she was uncomfortable with this situation, she was married and you worked for her. You also didn’t know if she even liked women.

You didn’t think you did either until you saw Maria for the first time.

Maria wrapped an arm around your shoulder as she lead the way into the house and to your bedroom. Your eyes kept steady to the ground, averting any possible eye contact with anyone who happened to be nearby. The whole walk to your bedroom was so eerie and tense that you wished nothing more than to disappear.

Maria helped you onto your bed and you accepted the comfort of the bed instantly because you had a feeling that the bed was going to be your only companion from now onwards. At least you got to hug her twice, you thought bitterly. To avoid any more conversation, you turned away from Maria and to the wall, hoping she would walk out and leave you be. You didn’t want to embarrass yourself but more so her anymore. You said enough and for that, you felt that you deserved to be excommunicated.

Instead, you felt her sit at the front of the bed.

“Siempre supe que me amabas. (I always knew you loved me)” She sighed loudly, hearing the instant relief washing over her. The fact shocked you, how did she know? When did she find out? Was it that obvious? The questions came faster than the possible answers and it was as if she knew what you thought because immediately after the short silence she said, “No me interrumpas. Has hablado bastante. Ahora es mi turno. (Don’t interrupt me. You’ve talked a lot already. It’s my turn now.)”

You kept quiet, looking at the wall to try to stop the thinking.

“Sé que te estás preguntando cómo lo supe. Creo que lo supe cuando me dijiste que eras feliz hace unas semanas. Sé cuando a alguien le gusta otra persona y lo vi en ti. Traté de no pensar en la posibilidad de que yo te gustara, no quería pensar eso porque no quería verte de manera extraña. También crecí en una casa muy religiosa ... Nunca le he dicho esto a nadie, ni siquiera a Miguel ... pero siempre supe que también me gustaban las chicas. Y por eso, me asusté cuando me dijiste que me amabas. Mi primer pensamiento fue rechazarte ... fingir que esto no sucedió y dejarte ir como pediste. Pero luego recordé cómo me sentí cuando mi mejor amiga me llamó lesbiana sucia...(I know you’re asking yourself how I knew. I found out when you told me you were happy a few weeks ago. I know when someone likes another person and I saw it on your face. I tried not to think about the possibility of you liking me, I didn’t want to view you weirdly. I also grew up in a religious household...I never told anyone this, not even Miguel but I knew from a young age that I also liked girls along with boys. That is why I was scared when you told me you loved me. My first thought was to deny what you said, to pretend it never happened and let you go like you asked. But I began to remember when my best friend called me a dirty lesbian...)” Maria’s voice wavered a bit before she cleared her throat to continue with her little story, “Recuerdo sentirme tan mal conmigo misma. Pensé que mis sentimientos eran repugnantes y eso me hizo dejar esos sentimientos a un lado. No fue hasta que llegaste cuando empecé a recordarlos. (I remember feeling terrible with myself. I thought my feelings were disgusting and that caused me to put my feelings to the side. It’s what until you came into my life that I began to remember them.)”

“M—María... ¿Porqué me estas diciendo esto? (Why are you telling me this?)” your voice cracked, turning to your other side to see her back was facing towards you. “No es necesario que me explique. No sé qué decir ... Has sido amable conmigo en los pocos meses que trabajo aquí. Realmente amo mi trabajo pero no entiendo el sentido de esta conversación. Estoy despedida ... al menos creo que estoy despedida. (You don’t need to explain to me all of this. I don’t know what to say. You’ve been so kind to me in the few months I’ve worked here. I really love my job but I don’t know why you’re telling me all this. I’m fired...at least I think I am fired.)”

Maria turned to you, her face streaming with tears, “No estas despedida. Te lo digo para que cuando empiece a besarte, no te sorprendas. (You are not fired. I am telling you all of this because when I start to kiss you, you won’t be surprised.)”

The words almost didn’t register fast enough as Maria leaned down to kiss you, slowly at first so it didn’t overwhelm you. Once it began to sink in, you kissed back eagerly. You didn’t know if you were dreaming or dead, everything seemed to happen so fast. Never in a million years did you think your feelings would be reciprocated.

Maria’s hand gripped the hair on the back of your head, intending to keep your face in place when she broke the messy kiss to peck at your neck. Even though you two only kissed once, it told you a lot about Maria. Things you suspected but never truly could have known until this moment.

Maria is domineering. She’s the one in control and you were the one to be controlled. You didn’t mind, you were taking anything you could get from her.

Maria was also playful, her free hand was playing with your necklace as she kissed around the exposed skin on you neck and upper chest.

But above all, she was passionate. You were so under her spell and past sanity that you didn’t notice when she unbuttoned your white shirt. Your face flushed as you looked down to see that she had taken off her own top, wondering if this was a signal to take off the rest of your clothes. You fumbled with your hands to reach your back to begin unhooking your bra when she stopped you.

“Creo que deberíamos continuar con los besos. Lo que queremos no puede suceder porque no tenemos suficiente tiempo. No pensé que me pondría cachonda tan rápido.” She smiled as she traced a finger along your collarbone, “Te ves tan hermosa sin camisa puesta, casi no puedo esperar para ver más. (We should continue with only kissing. What we want cannot happen because we don’t have enough time. I didn’t think I would get horny so fast. You look beautiful without a shirt on, I can hardly wait to see more of you).”

You blushed and leaned in to continue making out with her. Maria pulled you onto her lap to straddle her, her hand immediately grabbing your ass. You gave a surprised gasp, making Maria laugh in response. You both kiss each other, your lips feeling swollen when you parted. You pulled away, breathless and laid down on the bed.

“Esto se siente mal. Usted es mi patrona, cuido a los niños... eres una mujer casada. (This feels wrong. You’re my boss, I watch the kids...you’re a married woman).” You began to panic, sitting up instantly in fright when Maria placed her hand on your stomach to push you back down.

“Querida, tengo una pregunta y quiero una respuesta. (Darling, I have a question and I want an answer from you)” Maria turned to you and made sure you two shared eye contact, “Te gusta mi marido, ¿no? (You like my husband, don’t you?)”

You gave her a confused look. Did Maria know all? Had she been spying on you? How does she know that you like Miguel as well? I guess I’m not as secretive as I thought, you thought to yourself. But how can you answer her? What was the right answer? What did she want to hear?

“No no. ¡No pienses! No me gusta cuando haces eso. (No, no. Don’t think about it! I don’t like when you do that.)” Maria shook her head, “Quiero que me des una respuesta honesta. No quiero escuchar una mentira, quiero escuchar la verdad. Usted me puede decir. Realmente me gustaría saber. (I want you to give me an honest answer. I don’t want to hear a lie, I want to hear the truth. You can tell me. I would really like to know.)”

You felt your heart beat faster, suddenly feeling dizzy. You barely realized your dehydration from crying so much earlier.

“Bueno ... parece que ya sabes la respuesta. (Well...it sounds like you already know the answer to your question)” You bit your lip, wiping the slight precipitation on your upper lip.

“Me conoces bien. (You know me well)” Maria gave a wide grin, leaning down to kiss your forehead, “Quiero oírte decirlo. Quiero escucharlo de tus labios. Si no dices nada, haré que uses tus labios de otras formas. (I want to hear you say it. I want to hear it from your lips. If you don’t say anything, I will have you use your lips in other ways).”

Your eyes widened, “Para mí, eso suena maravilloso. (For me, that sounds wonderful)” Maria shot you an unamused expression, prompting you to finally confess, “Tu esposo también me gusta. Lo siento. No eres solo tú. También es él. Y me hace sentir aún más repugnante. (I like Miguel too. I’m sorry. It’s not just you. It’s him as well. And it makes me feel even more disgusting.)”

Maria wasn’t phased, deciding to lay down next to you finally and looking up at the ceiling, “Tuviste ojos en él desde que llegaste. Pensé que ustedes dos ya habrían dormido juntos antes de esto. Todo el mundo sabe que se acuesta con putas. Supongo que elegí no darme cuenta. Todo estuvo bien hasta que me encontré con esa puta que quedó embarazada de él. (You’ve has eyes on him since you’ve arrived. I thought you two would have already slept together by now. The whole word knows that Miguel sleeps with whores. I guess I chose to be ignorant to the fact. I was fine with pretending it wasn’t an issue until I found the whore he impregnated).”

You gasped but quickly regretting it. You had heard the rumors from other employees but didn’t think there was any truth to them.

“Le di dos opciones. La primera fue abortar al bebé y recibir algo de dinero como compensación por el trauma de perder a un hijo. La segunda era tener el bebé y recibir el dinero suficiente para salir de Guadalajara. Me vale madres que pasará con el bebé o ella, me costó mucho no matar a Miguel cuando me contó lo que pasó. Me avergonzó al hacerme hablar con ella en lugar de hablar con ella él mismo. Para abreviar la historia, eligió el aborto. Por mucho que odié a Miguel en ese momento, todavía amo a ese idiota. Sentí pena por esa mujer que pensó que a Miguel le importaría lo suficiente como para hablar con ella. Miguel apenas se preocupa por nuestros hijos, por eso tenemos una niñera. Le rompió el corazón y el mío al mismo tiempo. Qué hombre. (I gave her two options. The first was to abort the baby and receive money as compensation for the trauma of losing a baby. The second was to have the baby and get enough money to leave Guadalajara. I don’t give a fuck what happened with the baby or her, it took everything to not kill Miguel when he told me what happened. He embarrassed me when he made me talk to her instead of talking to her himself. To make a long story short, she chose the abortion. Although in that moment I hated Miguel, I still love that idiot. I felt terrible for the woman who thought Miguel cared enough to talk to her. Miguel barely cares about our children’s, that’s why we have you. He broke her heart and mine at the same time. What a guy.)”

The two of you laid silent, you looked at her and she up at the ceiling. You noticed a stray tear falling from her eye and you were quick to wipe it away.

“Lo peor de todo es que yo también la odiaba. No porque se acostó con él, sino porque quedó embarazada. ¿Por qué todas las putas quedan embarazadas? Solo pude tener dos hijos, quería uno o dos más. ¿es mucho para preguntar? Dolía sugerir el aborto, pero no soportaba que otra mujer tuviera a su hijo bastardo como recordatorio de su infedilidad. (The worst of all is that I hated her too. I didn’t hate her because she slept with him, but because she got pregnant. Why do all the whores get pregnant? I only had two, I wanted one or two more. That’s all. Is that too much to ask for? It hurt to suggest the abortion but I couldn’t stand another woman having his bastard child. That child would always be a reminder to me if his infidelity)” Maria’s eyes closed to stop the tears and even through non sexual ways, you learned more about Maria.

She was broken. As were you. She was just better at hiding it. You didn’t know what to say to make her feel better, you didn’t think you could cheer her up from admitting to forcing a woman getting an abortion. She needed to get this off her chest.

In your mind, you thought Maria was cruel for giving that woman an ultimatum. Maria may have said she had given the woman two options but it was obvious which one the young woman would take. Even if she was carrying the bastard child of Miguel, that baby deserved a chance to live. The baby did nothing wrong but be conceived. It wasn’t like Maria couldn’t have adopted it, she wanted more children. Maybe this child was the chance for her to have the third child she’s always wanted. What was the difference if the baby came from a different woman? Maria was going to be the mom all the same.

“Ahora sabes más sobre el tipo de hombre que es Félix. Es un lobo a la vista, obtiene lo que quiere. Siempre. Eres joven, amable, pero un poco ingenua, te comerá y te dejará sin nada. Te romperá el alma como si nada. Solo te lastimarás en el proceso. (Now you know what kind of man Felix is. He’s a wolf in plain sight, he gets what he wants. Always. You’re young, loving, but a bit naive. He will eat you up and leave you with nothing. He will break your soul like it was nothing. You’ll just hurt yourself in the process)” Maria stroked your hair, leaving a small kiss on your forehead as she shifted towards you.

You turned to her, cupping her face gently. You felt like you hadn’t been looking at her in the eyes enough so you made sure this time to make a point, “Te amo Maria y si lo que dices es cierto sobre Felix, no lo aceptaré. Solo quiero estar contigo, sea lo que sea que eso signifique. No quiero irme, quiero quedarme aquí y cuidar de los niños. Me preocupo por ellos. (I love you Maria and if what you say about Felix is true, I won’t accept him. I just want to be with you, whatever that entails. I don’t want to go, I want to stay here and take care of the kids. I care for them.)”

“Sé que has estado hablando de el amor todo este tiempo, pero ¿sabes siquiera qué es el amor en realidad? Sé que no has estado con nadie, eres apenas una adulta. ¿cómo sabes de lo que estás hablando? Puedes pensar que me amas, puedes pensar que amas a los niños, incluso puedes pensar que puedes cambiar a Miguel. (I know you’ve been talking about love this whole time but do you even know what real love is? I know you haven’t been with anyone, you’re barely an adult. How do you know what you’re talking about? You can think you love me, the kids, you may even think about being able to change Miguel)” she ran a finger over your bottom lip, smiling softly at how you slightly trembled from the sensation, “No sé si te estoy contando todas las cosas malas que tiene Félix para protegerte o para ser egoísta. No me gusta compartir. Eres tan preciosa que no merece ni siquiera tocar un solo cabello tuyo. Está mal querer tanto a alguien. Pero se siente tan bien. Finalmente entiendo a Félix y por qué se coje a mujeres que no son su esposa. (I don’t know if I’m telling you about Felix to project you or to be selfish. I don’t like to share. You’re just so precious that he doesn’t deserve to even touch a single hair on your head. I finally understand why Felix fucks other women who aren’t his wife.)”

You saw the passion in Maria’s eyes and that let you know that she meant what she was saying. She had reason to believe that maybe you weren’t really in love and that it was just lust. You didn’t want to believe it but with every passing moment, you couldn’t help but fall more deep than before. At first you felt terrible at the idea of betraying her marriage and being the home wrecker but how could you wreck a home that was already on its way to be demolished? Maria just wanted to be loved and you planned on doing just that.

You felt that it was the right time to lean in for another passionate kiss when you heard Miguelito pound on your door.

“¿Bebita, estas en tu cuarto? Necesito ayuda con mi tarea, por favor. Te prometo que no voy a dar lata. (*Nickname*, are you in there? I need help with my homework please. I promise I won’t be difficult.)” He whined, continuing to knock softly in the hopes that gig will respond back.

You smiled softly, instantly getting off the bed and freshening up. You had a job to do and you were momentarily sidetracked. “Si estoy aquí. Estaré allí en un momento. Espero que te mantengas fiel a tu promesa, cariño. (I am in here. I will be there in a second. I hope you can keep your promise, sweetheart)”

As you gave an apologetic glance to Maria, you quickly made yourself presentable and happily helped Miguelito with his homework. Anything to get your mind off of everything that had happened before he interrupted.

You were walking out when you saw Felix in the hallway, walking towards you. You tried your best to seem nonchalant in the hopes he would not stop you but right when you walked next to him, his hand gripped your arm tightly to get you to stop in your tracks.

“¿Sabes dónde está mi esposa? (Do you know where my wife is?”

And that’s it folks. For now. 😋 This series will be dialogue heavy so I apologize in advance. Thank you so much for reading!

#miguel angel felix gallardo #maria elvira #maria elvira de felix #narcos mexico imagine #narcos fanfic

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duhragonball · 6 years

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Dragon Ball 113

Now that Emperor Pilaf’s crew is out of the way, King Piccolo can finally get down to business, which is conquering the world.

Piano tries to brief Piccolo on the current geopolitical situation, but Piccolo just zaps his whole Powerpoint presentation. I really like Piano as a character, and I’m not entirely sure why, other than that he sort of reminds me of some of Jabba the Hutt’s entourage in Return of the Jedi. Functionally, he’s probably like Bib Fortuna, but he talks like C-3PO, and he sort of feels like a team mascot, like Salacious Crumb.

Also, the dynamic between Piano and Piccolo is kind of interesting. Piano speaks much more candidly to Piccolo than anyone else, indicating that he’s a close and trusted advisor. Presumably, Piccolo created him just like Tambourine and Cymbal, which means that Piano is exactly what Piccolo wanted him to be. And yet Piano doesn’t seem to quite fit Piccolo’s plans. He tries to act like he’s counseling a real king, but Piccolo’s military and domestic policies essentially boil down to “Break Stuff”.

I think this points to King Piccolo’s defining character trait. He’s a horrible, merciless villain, sure, but I think what sets him apart from the others is that he’s a bitter outsider who wants to punish everyone on the inside. That’s why he wants to topple the legitimate king and usurp his throne. The Red Ribbon Army was content to establish their own power base someplace else, but Piccolo wants the recognition. He wants people to know that he’s part of their society--the top part-- whether they like it or not.

So with that ambition comes this attitude that he has to make himself look and feel like a real king. That’s why he surrounds himself with advisors like Piano, that’s why he sits on a throne, and that’s why he wants to move into King Castle. I don’t think any of these things actually helps him accomplish his goals, but when your goal is basically “Break Stuff”, I guess it doesn’t matter. King Piccolo doesn’t isn’t really interested in the final outcome of his reign, just so long as he gets to have authority that he can abuse.

As the pair cruise into the city surrounding King Castle.... You know, I’m just gonna go back to calling it “King’s Castle”. Funimation added the possessive, and I’m starting to see why. It just sounds better that way.

Anyway, it’s the 20th anniversary of King Furry’s reign, so there’s a big celebration with fireworks and a parade and so on.

A lot of this episode is designed to set up King Furry as a counterpoint to Piccolo. He’s everything Piccolo isn’t: modest, peace-loving, a dedicated public servant.

The catch is that King Furry’s record sort of contradicts a lot of the lawlessness we’ve seen in Dragon Ball leading up to his introduction. Characters like the Ox King, the Red Ribbon Army, and Mercenary Tao seem to be able to do whatever they please. I’ve always interpreted this to man that KIng Furry may officially rule the entire world, but he has a hard time enforcing his policies in the periphery of his kingdom.

To be sure, I don’t expect King Furry to be perfect. It’s likely that the world was a lot worse off before he assumed power, and the peace and prosperity his subjects are celebrating is a relative thing. I just find it odd that the Red Ribbon Army was a Big Problem just three years ago, and everyone in this episode is acting like that never happened.

Meanwhile, in the Land of Korin, Goku’s planning to seek help from Korin at the top of Korin Tower. But he’s all beat up, so Bora suggests that he rest for a few days before making the climb. But Goku can’t wait, so he says Yajirobe will take him up. Yajirobe refuses, until Goku tells him that there’s Senzu at the top of the tower, and it’s “Wizard Food”.

This leads Yajirobe to imagine a cereal mascot making giant food items appear out of thin air. See, this right here is what all those Harry Potter movies should have looked like. How hot would that be? Dumbledore fights Voldemort, and they just keep trying to crush each other under giant pizzas and hot dogs.

Bora offers to help the boys out by doing a Fastball Special. Only it’s even cooler than a Fastball Special because he’s gonna throw two people straight up.

I can’t believe Dragon Ball topped Harry Potter AND the X-Men in this one episode. Well, actually, I can totally believe it. This show rules. Yajirobe grabs Goku’s butt, and Bora grabs Yajirobe’s butt, and we’re off to the races.

Of course, the animators sneak in plenty of upskirt shots of Yajirobe. Wotta buncha perverts.

Once they’re as high as they can get, Yajirobe starts climbin’, crying out ORAORAORA as he goes. Wow, a JoJo reference too. This episode has everything.

Back at King’s Castle... uh... City? Kingscastletown? Castle City? I think I’m gonna start calling it that.

Why are all these soldiers wearing pink? I mean, they look all right, but they have a real ice cream truck vibe to them. This makes me wonder if ice cream trucks in this town are Hum-vees driven by army guys in pixelated cookie-dough camo. That’d be pretty badass.

So Piccolo’s ready to start invadin’. First thing he does is T-Pose for dominance, and then he drops right on down on King’s Castle.

This guy at the gate tells him he can’t go in, and he has a gun, so Piccolo gives up and leaves. And that’s the end of the story! Kind of anticlimactic, but it’s a pretty daring way to wrap up a saga like this. I think the moral here is--

Just kidding, Piccolo stone cold murders all the guards and just wanders through the castle at will. Also, Piano finds a bag of chips next to some guy’s corpse and just picks it up like a crow. This show is amazing.

Meanwhile, Master Roshi and Chiaotzu are still dead.

I feel like Tien’s sort of wasting time here. I guess the last couple of episodes have taken place in roughly real-time, so it’s been maybe about twenty minutes since Piccolo made his wish? That’s kind of nuts when you think about it. But it feels like TIen’s been standing around all week.

The rest of Dragon Team finally arrives, and thank goodness Yamcha’s changed out of his blue tank top and short-shorts. That outfit looked terrible on him. Launch, of course, is still wearing her cool outfit from the Tien Saga, because you don’t want to mess with perfection.

So, just to be clear, Master Roshi is dead....

And Chiatozu is dead.

Yamcha tells Tien that they need to team up to beat Piccolo. Okay, time out, fantasy booking time. What if they really did team up, and somehow they found out about the fusion dance, and King Piccolo met his match in... Tiencha!?

Like, TIencha would just instantly master the Mafuba, because he has Tien’s firsthand knowledge of the technique, combined with Yamcha’s ability to improvise moves like the Kamehameha and Spirit Ball. But he’d be like, no. No, this King Piccolo dude needs to pay. So he’d wear him down with some Dodohamehas, and then polish him off with the Wolf Fang Volleyball Fist. Then he’d cross his arms and shout “The Power of Tiencha!”

Then Tiencha would be made the new king. Yamcha and Tien would rule jointly, but they’d use the fusion dance before making any important decisions.

But no, we can’t do anything super mega awesome like that. Instead, Tien wants to go off by himself and master the Mafuba on his own. Yamcha offers to learn it with him...

But Tien tells him it would be impossible for Yamcha, since he’s never seen the move performed. Well neither did Mutaito when he invented it, and so far he’s the only one who ever executed it successfully.

So Tien flies off on his own, leaving Launch to get all a-flutter over his stoic heroism. Look, I get what they’re going for here. This is Tien’s redemption arc, and Yamcha would just be in the way. But this is a really dumb play. Basically, Tien’s setting himself up to make the same mistake Master Roshi made. Even if Yamcha doesn’t stand a chance of learning the Mafuba, he could still help in other ways, and if nothing else, he could be there when Tien tries it, and then if things don’t work out, he’ll finally have firsthand knowledge of the technique, so he can learn it himself.

Back at the parade, King Furry receives flowers from little girls from different parts of the world. One of them is Suno from the Red Ribbon Army Saga. I think this is the first time her hometown is called “Jingle Village”, and I really wish they had used that name back when I needed it.

Unfortunately, Piccolo blows up a bunch of heavy artillery at the castle, and the explosions finally disrupt the celebration, spoiling Suno’s big moment.

In hindsight, it probably would have been better to call off the rest of the celebration, but this guy in white only got word that a lone intruder was a the castle, and he thought tanks would be enough to stop him, so he decided not to interrupt the ceremony. It was the wrong call, but I can’t blame the guy, since none of them had any idea what they were dealing with. Now that he does know, he suggests King Furry leave the area immediately.

Furry really doesn’t want to do that, although he’s wise enough to know that his security chief is right. Piccolo came her to get Furry, so if he can escape the city, there’s at least a chance Piccolo will follow him instead of hurting anyone else.

Meanwhile this huge dude tries to buy them some time. From the dialogue, I get the impression that he’s the guy on the security detail they call when conventional weapons don’t work. So at least King Furry’s staff recognizes that there are fighters in the world strong enough to resist tanks and guns. It sort of makes me wonder why anyone still bothers with tanks and guns, though.

Piccolo offers the guy a job, but he’s not interested. It says a lot about King Furry that these guys are willing to lay down their lives for him, even against a foe this powerful. This whole part of the saga feels like an inversion of Goku’s assault on Red Ribbon Headquarters, only now it’s a villain no-selling a bunch of good guys with guns. But unlike the Red Ribbon soldiers, these guys are motivated by honor and loyalty, rather than denial and fear.

To be sure, a couple of other guards see Piccolo kill this dude and they run away, but at this point, I’d say it’s the smart call. There’s nothing left to defend here but an empty castle, and they’re way out of their league. All they’d accomplish by staying is to die.

Unfortunately, Piano spots King Furry making his escape.

And it doesn’t take long for Piccolo to catch him.

Elsewhere, a kid asks his mom if there’s anyone who can stop Piccolo.

Suno knows someone.

Yeah, Goku’s gonna come back and tear Piccolo apart. You just wait and see.

He just needs a little time to get his shit together. Hang in there, world.

25 notes · View notes

mimiplaysgames · 6 years

Text

Strength to Protect the Things That Matter (Ch. 25)

Pairing: Terra/Aqua Rating: T Word Count: 5,631

Summary: Terra has prayed for years for relief from having no one to talk to in the dark, except with the monster of a man who stole his life. One day, when two boys chase a lead, he gets his chance - less than a week - to set things right before he loses everything again.

AO3 FFnet

A/N: I had a flashback scene of Terra interacting with Ventus that was supposed to appear in Ch. 15, “Confession,” toward the end. It seemed like a footnote after the flashback with Aqua in that chapter, so I removed it. I then moved it to Ch. 17, “Vacation.” Terra was supposed to think about this scene right before he helps Sora stand up, finding out where Ventus has been all along. But it lengthened it too much (in a chapter that was so damn long anyway), that I moved it to the beginning of this chapter. And it stuck out like a sore thumb. So this scene will not appear in this specific fic at all and will have to find a place somewhere else, lmao! I can’t believe I am at this part now. It’s almost done! Also, I will be posting WIP updates on Mondays and Thursdays (with the occasional extra Saturday). I put up a dated schedule that you can access here.

Fall

“You have to admit,” Terra said as Aqua dipped two fingers into a small tin of black paint, “you’re having fun.”

Swirling them into the paint, Aqua attempted to muster some strength to keep herself from grinning. But she failed.

“When the Master said we needed to restore the natural balance by retrieving a living boy from the Land of the Dead,” she said, “I don’t think he ever expected us to be doing this.”

She finished painting his eyes, and moved on to his nose.

The last time they made such a colorful mess together, they finger-painted goblins dancing on flowers, on a corner wall tucked away in the castle by the piano. Eraqus spared them the lecture and actually kept their mural all these years.

The last time they touched this much, they were young, long before Terra had developed blood-pumping feelings at the feel of her skin, or from being so close to her. They used to play-fight and wrestle, before he avoided such activity with her nowadays.

Two months until their Mark of Mastery exam, they were now in the Land of the Dead, where she was tracing his nose cartilage. They were on a mission, but Terra admitted he was grateful it gave him the allowance to enjoy so much contact with her.

It turned out that the Land of the Dead had gorgeous streets full of light and vibrant color. It featured buildings for homes, festivals, art shows, museums, and anything designed for entertaining all types of personalities. It was like a tourist attraction, and it had everything a person looking for fun and adventure would expect. Except rain. It didn’t rain here. The dark belly under a bridge where they were hiding for now harbored no puddles.

The people here, of course, were all skeletons. It didn’t take much effort to find the boy, Miguel, the person of interest in a world he didn’t belong. Which brought another problem – Terra and Aqua, too, had warm skin and pulses.

Aqua was against Miguel’s wish to reconnect with one of his famous singing ancestors, believing it too much of a risk for his own life. (She was very sympathetic to his need to pursue music, for she, too, adored it.) When Miguel’s family members, who were his ticket back home, didn’t approve of his obsession, she believed that they could be reasoned with.

Terra agreed with Miguel, believing that the boy had a right to follow his passion no matter what anyone said. He was aware that Miguel had a very limited time in this realm, which could be fatal, but they had enough time, and this created a similar dynamic to all the times Terra and Ventus tag-teamed against her. Essentially pushed into a corner, Aqua went ahead and agreed to do it their way.

The plan was to blend in. A dead friend of Miguel’s, Héctor, went off to find them some clothes large enough to hide their breathing bodies.

Aqua was painting a calavera on Terra’s face to make him look like a skeleton. She traced one finger to make lines across his lips. The paint felt goopy and thick, but her touch was brisk, graceful, yet determined. It was so like her to move this way, and he had to keep reminding himself to stay calm and not let his mind wander on the touch. There were definitely some things he’d like her to do with his lips, and tracing them was not a typical thing best friends did together, right?

Neither was touching the neck this much, but she had to give the illusion that he didn’t have flesh anymore. She was careful enough not to push onto his laryngeal prominence, at the very least. But no care could be given to ease how he was feeling anyway.

Terra, if anything, felt immensely grateful when Miguel, who already had his calavera finished and was wearing a red hoodie to hide the rest, arrived to check up on her progress. An empty, cool feeling lingered on his collarbone as she finished her work.

Miguel burst into a fit of laughter. “I think you would even scare away la parca… the Grim Reaper.”

“What?” He picked up a cracked and foggy mirror laying on the ground next to him.

Aqua had traced and covered his brows with black paint when she hollowed out his eyes. What looked back at him was a very angry skeleton, where the black color gave the impression that his eyes were even darker.

“What gives? You made me look so scary,” Terra told her.

She covered her mouth with her wrist as she giggled, careful not to mess her bare face up. “I’m sorry, I was trying to trace your face to make it look natural,” she said.

When Terra attempted to swipe the tin can away, she evaded – which was usual. Ten years growing up and sparring together, she became a master at dodging him.

“I’ll fix it, I’ll fix it,” she said, swatting his hand away.

“You can add loops and dots.” Miguel traced his finger in the air as an example. “Or maybe something cute to trick the children,” he said with an impish grin.

She dipped her finger into the tin again and quickly went over some lines on his cheekbones and forehead. The mirror showed that she drew some loops around his imagined eye sockets, and a heart right above the bridge of his nose. His chest skipped a beat, careful not to read too much into why she picked a heart for him. But it didn’t make him look any sweeter.

“Now I look like the Evil Lord of Love,” Terra said.

She snorted and Miguel held his stomach, out of breath from his laughter.

“It’s the best I can do,” she said. It was most likely far from the truth. She was probably way too entertained to fix it for real. “My turn now.” She pushed her hair off her face and handed the tin over to Terra.

Ten years growing up and sparring together didn’t prepare Terra for this, but he became a master at hiding his emotions anyway. Each time he traced a brow or a cheekbone in black, or rubbed white onto her cheeks, he consciously breathed out of his nose. It made him look more relaxed and focused that way.

Which proved to be difficult when he finished painting her eyelids. She opened them, and the darkness gave just enough contrast to make her bright, beautiful eyes pop. They might as well be jewels. He wasn’t even aware he was staring until she asked him if something didn’t look right.

Calm and collected, his voice was smooth enough that there wasn’t an ounce of shake to it. “I was checking to see if everything was even,” he said simply.

He was aware of his posture, careful not to lean into her. Even though he really wanted to, especially when tracing her lips. Soft and supple, he had often wanted to feel them. Once wasn’t enough either. Each time he dipped his finger back into the paint was another chance at learning what her lips were like.

He made sure to give her the same amount of care when tracing her neck too. Looking at her head lean back that way, tracing her chin, and coloring down to her crevice – it was better, as painful as it was, to finish the job than to let it drag.

It hurt enough to make Terra almost consider asking Eraqus to assign them on missions separately. Almost. There was too much enjoyment thrown into the mix as well.

The wave of relief that came when he finally closed the tin can was like being salvaged from hunger. Aqua looked into the mirror and approved of his work. Terra even gave her some doodles of small, simple flowers on her temples. Now she looked like everyone else in this world.

A skeleton soon approached them, wearing a straw hat and clothes that were so worn down they had rips and holes. Illuminated from the decorative lights of the streets, Héctor carried a couple of pieces of garments with hoods that he collected for them.

He handed Terra a bomber jacket, to hide the machismo, and stared at Aqua’s artistry on his face. “You trying to romance a demon?” he asked.

“Don’t ask,” Terra said, quickly putting on the jacket, wanting very much to keep any attention away from himself.

“And for the lady,” Héctor said, “a large cloak to hide all the... well, todo eso. Everything.” He made gestures as if to suggest curvature.

The cloak was such a dark brown that it almost seemed black. It was meant for a very tall person: it hung loosely off her shoulders, and dragged onto the floor with the sleeves draping off her fingers.

“I look ridiculous,�� she said.

It was Terra’s instinct to cover her mouth for politeness’ sake, but then he’d have to trace her lips again with paint. Truthfully, she looked adorable - though he’d never say it out loud, or she would slap him with excess sleeve.

“It’s more important we blend in,” Terra said.

“Tiene razón. He has reason,” Héctor said. He glanced back and forth between Terra and Aqua, judging them. “Bueno…” he said in a way to suggest that he had no choice but to work with what he got, “You do both look like Fulano y Fulana de Tal.”

Terra’s head shook ever so slightly as his eyes narrowed. “What?”

Miguel dug his hands into his pockets. “He called you some dudes that came from nowhere.”

“Well, if it works…” Aqua mumbled to herself, following the others as they emerged from under the bridge. Her sleeves flopped back and forth as she walked.

The Land of the Dead kept a record of time. The buildings were so tall they were like skyscrapers, with each ascension more modern than the foundation it leaned on. It was as if they kept building on top of old structures, with the bottom floors a remnant of some ancient past. The music and the fireworks, all prepared to celebrate Día de los Muertos, told Terra that death was just a passage to something more exciting beyond what life could give.

It was comforting to know that whenever it was time for Master Eraqus to go, it wouldn’t be a place of suffering (or even boredom). But the separation still had to leave a scar to those left behind, right?

The people here were enjoying themselves, yes. Probably waiting for their own loved ones to join them and make the experience even better.

Héctor led them to the slums. Huts, boats, and wood houses gathered at the harbor down below the city, where the forgotten spirits dwelled. A neighborhood for those who didn’t have their photos propped up on their families’ ofrenda, a shrine where the living honor and remember their deceased relatives. These spirits therefore found family with each other.

The goal was to get Miguel a guitar. The nearby festival was set up in honor of Miguel’s relative, and he needed a musical instrument to enter the competition - and actually get a chance to meet.

The guitar was kept by Chicharrón, a friend of Héctor’s who lived in a wooden house at the end of the dock. He had to have been a hoarder, considering the stacks of random junk inside. Everything looked discarded, as if he was too exhausted to keep it all organized. As if he was the kind of person to desperately find something to hold onto through objects. Only the moonlight illuminated the entirely of the hut, as if he shunned away the joy and bright lights that paraded outside. It reflected on him as well – the bone on his skull and knuckles look sanded down, as if he wasn’t well-preserved.

Chicharrón, lying in a hammock buried under a pile of even more random trinkets, scowled when he took one look at Terra’s face. “Héctor, who gave you the right to bring el diablo here?”

“Even I don’t have the skill to convince the devil to do anything. He came on his own, acere,” Héctor said, as if addressing a friend.

They both argued over the guitar, and agreed that Miguel could use it under one specific condition: that Héctor would sing a song. His friend wanted to savor some enjoyment left, because the guitar was the last thing that was able to give him just that.

And so Héctor sang. A folk song about a woman everyone knew named Juanita. It sounded like a beautiful love song at first. Miguel sat on his knees, in awe of the talent. Aqua had her hand to her chest, her eyes watering over the sweetness of the composition. Juanita was someone whose teeth stuck out, and a chin that caved inward. She wore her hair like shrubbery, and walked funny.

But the songwriter believed himself so ugly that she wouldn’t have considered him a proper suitor.

Terra had expected the song to end sarcastically, but the revelation of such adoration left a hard lump in his throat. What would it have taken for Aqua to give him a chance like that?

The song ended. Chicharrón, satisfied and making peace with whatever was in his mind, disintegrated into dust, the wind carrying away his remnants. He left behind a mess of all he thought was important, now discarded and unaccounted for, alone on that hammock.

It was the Second Death, a process for all whose living family members have forgotten they existed. He didn’t have anyone left in the Land of the Living who cared for him.

It wasn’t gory or terrifying. If anything, it was a pretty sight, but it was the most gruesome thing Terra ever witnessed.

The only source illuminating the clown and the streets around them is the moonlight. Kefka takes one step forward, and Terra prepares a lunge forward, aiming for the knees.

But there is a swish, and a sphere of a gravitational contortion to push the beast back. The young version of Xehanort jumps from the roof he has been patiently waiting on, throwing all of his magical strength onto Kefka with that glowing, teal Keyblade of his.

Terra takes this opportunity to sprint towards the end of the block, where the hospital meets an alleyway, and places the duffel bag of elixirs into a nook. Away from the battlefield. Safe. Hopefully.

Garnet follows close by, and he expects that it will be this way – he will fight, and she will mend his injuries from behind. They just need to survive ten minutes. Leave too soon and Kefka will follow them back to the others.

Xehanort lands near them, resting his Keyblade on his shoulder as Kefka stands back up. “Of all the people you lug around after our warning,” he says, “you follow the one target that pits you in such danger. It’s reckless.”

Terra is about to bark that he will not tolerate any word from Xehanort’s mouth, but there is the clown to mind. Xehanort doesn’t give Terra any chance to say anything, quickly turning his attention on the Heartless.

Xehanort’s powers of teleportation aid him in evading each and every attack, at no cost to his energy. His magic is explosive, and he takes any opportunity to hit at Kefka’s ankles and knees in order to bring it down. Kefka’s body is, of course, sturdy like diamonds.

Terra doesn’t want to ally with him. If anything, Xehanort is just as much as a threat. If he doesn’t stay focused, he might lose his body again. And he can’t afford it. Not tonight. Not ever. Not until Aqua is free can he relax and let go. Not until Garnet is safe.

He swings Ends of the Earth to let out a shockwave of light that sears the cobblestones of the streets. He follows it with a swipe of the old man’s nameless Keyblade, letting out a blow of darkness that doubles the force, ravaging all in its path. It’s certainly an aid to all of Xehanort’s acrobatics. The bastard proves himself a worthy front man to be thrown at risk, so that Terra doesn’t have to put himself or Garnet in the direct line of danger.

But he’s too good to dispose himself.

And yet Terra is not giving out his full effort. Use the darkness, damn it, but not too much. He can’t lose control. The old man will use it to wrest his body back.

Already, there is a headache forming.

He must be stumbling too much, because Garnet seems to keep getting the impression that he is injured. He feels her healing magic envelope around him, and it takes away the hair-pulling headache. So he continues this pattern. Throw light and darkness, dodge, get tired and stumble from the pain, have her heal him. Continue.

Kefka changes its pattern to dance, creating random explosions throughout the area in an attempt to hit Xehanort. Debris crumbles, shaking the ground and tripping Garnet. It’s like an instinct, and Terra forgets he has two enemies near him, shielding her until the explosions stop.

“The bombs won’t ignite!” she says as she looks up at him. “I must have wired them incorrectly.”

She has a remote in her hand. The electric bombs planted in the office building across the street are still. Unless they can get Kefka to ram into them, they will stay silent.

She yelps. The reason why, he sees approaching them. Heartless waggle in patterns as if they can’t tell what they are aiming for. Maybe the potion still has some effect, and the Heartless cannot target them specifically. But it’s still a huge problem.

It takes too much thinking and concentration during such a heated moment to tap into Xemnas’ powers, but he tries anyway. The smaller debris floats up and above the ground, and with a wave of both Keyblades, he sends them flying to smack the various types of monstrosities that are invading the battle space.

“Terra, I need your aid!”

The voice is from behind. Xehanort blocks attacks from Kefka’s six poisonous swords.

Pfft. Let him die. Let him suffer the way Rydia is.

... But then if he’s not there, Kefka would go after them.

Terra focuses his mind on larger masses of plaster, glass, and brick that used to be part of the hospital. They are harder to move, and sweat drops trickle down his forehead. He points his Keyblades at them, as though they are wands to help him take control. They float higher, and with huge swings toward the direction of the clown, he manages to hurl them. Kefka falls back.

But not far enough to hit the office building, where the bombs lay waiting. Terra has managed to hit it in the face. The clown will soon come for him later.

Xehanort flashes him a look of disbelief, disgust emanating from his round eyes. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Terra, they’re surrounding us!” he hears Garnet yelling from behind. Heartless continue to come in droves.

Fight. Or protect. Dammit, why can’t I have both?

It’s like a stupor that stops him from doing anything as he thinks about his next move. A Heartless lunges at her.

As though his body is responding, a straight wall of bright, electric energy erects in front of the princess. The monster gets shocked by this aggressive barrier, and it all disappears.

It doesn’t hurt. It’s like the fireball he made appear out of nothing. This has to be Xemnas’ powers.

“Stay close to me!” Terra says.

She stands back-to-back with him, and he waves his arms one by one, a Keyblade in each hand, in swift movements that gesture from the ground toward the sky. He visualizes this new kind of barrier forming as fast as a lightning bolt, and it follows. Against any direction where a Heartless is wandering too close.

To be so effective at protecting, while attacking at the same time... It’s like cheating, and it’s great. If only it is more intuitive so that he can do it faster. If only he doesn’t have to think about it, so he wouldn’t get so tired.

Kefka charges toward him. It prepares a force of energy and sends a fistful of it. Terra prays that the barrier will stick around this time. Kefka’s hand meets his wall, electricity sparking to and fro that Terra feels the pain of it in his forearms, as he wills it keep standing.

Something, some kind of energy flickers throughout his skin and reverberates his entire body. Silence.

Everything around him is frozen in time. There is Kefka’s screwed mask for a face, its glowing yellow eyes staring down on him, its smile glued. His barrier is still there, the electricity coming out of it, but it’s stuck in some never-ending moment. The Heartless stuck in postures, as if they are living photographs. Garnet behind him, also immobilized, holding her shortstaff close to her chest, meeting eye-to-eye with some tall shadow that stares back at her.

He has never seen time magic this effective and this far-reaching.

Xehanort pants, adjusting his black cloak. “Why do you insist on holding yourself back when you have all this power at your disposal?” he asks as he approaches.

This can’t be the time when Terra loses, all alone in a timeless space with the one man who will take away everything. He can’t touch Garnet without potentially harming her, the velocity of his movement too fast in relation to the paralyzed state she’s in.

“Unfreeze her,” he commands.

“I was under the impression you wanted to have control over your own body,” Xehanort says, wiping dirt off a sleeve.

“Unfreeze her, now.”

“So the puppet is finally given the chance at controlling the strings that once possessed him, but he hasn’t the courage to take advantage of it?”

“I’d rather cut them.” He stares hard at Xehanort. Perhaps this is foolish, considering that he doesn’t know how long the spell will last. If Kefka unfreezes now, it’s all over anyway. But if he takes his eyes off Xehanort…

Xehanort smirks. “That still assumes you are in control. You won’t be able to have it if my older self is still the puppeteer. You want to rely on powers of nothingness, which you have little understanding of, when darkness will give you all the endless possibilities for power you seek.”

This hits too close to home, darkness tied to all of his limbs. Loss of control and he’s a doll for someone else’s benefit again.

Furthermore, he wishes Xehanort would stop talking to him like he’s stupid. To use darkness too much is the one thing that will make him fall. He grips both Keyblades. Perhaps he has an advantage since he has one more weapon. “It’s just hatred and rage, and I don’t need it.”

Xehanort widens his eyes. “Is that what you think it is? How infantile.” His eyes glass over, and he cocks his head gently, like he’s talking to a child. “It is merely a first step to tap into powers of darkness through negative emotions, with fear being the wildcard because it is the only emotion that is useless as a weapon. But you – and whoever taught you that – are mistaken.

“Fear is only useful in reminding you of threats. It is the one thing that will make you weak. Not darkness. You want your life back? Then take control of it. You may use your anger and your hatred of Kefka to strengthen your power. But to imply that is all there is – do you think it was love that motivated Eraqus to wield light in his attempt to murder Ventus?”

“Don’t talk about them!” Terra barks.

“Light and darkness are all part of the same existence. In the end, they are simple tools. Do not aim to convince yourself that darkness is nothing but horrid impulses. You can love and protect with darkness. You can be driven mad by the blinding power of light.”

Riku comes to mind. Use darkness and turn it into light, he has said. To build the strength to protect what matters. Is this what he means? Is it enough to have good intentions? Or does the old man have too much experience with such things that it’s futile to try to take the strings for himself?

Garnet is the first to unfreeze. “Terra, what in the world-”

“Move!” He holds her bicep and escorts her down the street.

He hears the blast Kefka has prepared for them, crushing a mob of minor Heartless instead.

Garnet screams his name. A Darkside, looming tall over them, contemplates its next move. It digs its hand into the ground and a portal opens up, a swarm of Shadows crawling out of it.

They run away. Worse still is the inky blackness that surrounds them and covers the entire street. He can’t see anything, except for yellow eyes squirming around everywhere. And suddenly he’s alone, the princess no longer by his side.

He hears Kefka’s footsteps, stomping the ground underneath it. It moves slowly, like it doesn’t know what to attack next. So it dances, explosions taking random pot shots in any direction.

One blows up behind him, and Garnet’s protection spell vibrates from the blast as he feels the cold street brace against his face. Hands grip his arm and help him stand up.

“Can you walk?” he hears Xehanort ask.

Terra rips his shoulder away. “Garnet!” he calls out.

Xehanort shushes him in a snake-like snarl. “We have the advantage. And I’m interested in keeping you alive.”

“Not without her.”

Xehanort holds a cold stare, his golden eyes a faint gleam in the shadow. Definitely not the kind of person to roll his eyes.

Garnet’s pillar of light bursts through with such a power that everything trembles. It also dissipates the darkness, giving them the ability to see what has been happening. A mass of Heartless that have surrounded her are thrown back by her power. Of course, she is left exhausted and shaking from such use of magic.

And Kefka notices. It laughs, sending horrific pain throughout Terra’s head, so awful it feels like his eyeballs will burst. Xehanort yells along with Terra, clutching his hand to his chest. Garnet grips her head tightly, slumped on the ground.

Kefka moves to srtike. She is wide-eyed.

This can’t happen. Not another failure.

Terra sprints forward. He needs to get there first. To have more power. To cheat.

A portal of swirling shadows opens up on the ground in front of him. He drops inside.

Here, there is no earth. No solid obstacle to keep him from her. Here he can fly. And up he ascends from another opening, putting him right in between a princess and a clown.

No need for a second Keyblade. Out from his left hand, all the dark impulses materialize into a deep red claw extending from his elbow, hitting Kefka upward at the chin.

This sends it back - but still, not enough. So he throws another claw, oozing flickering shadows through his arm and body, sending the clown flying. It lands on its back, rolling. But it misses the office building.

This was the exact move, long ago, used against his Master. With good intentions, he once swore. Powerful, instinctual, impulsive. Dark. It’s a natural glove that fits, unlike nothingness.

“I’m actually impressed,” he hears Xehanort say.

A compliment from the monster. Not again.

Terra slouches over and coughs out bile.

“Are you alright?” Garnet asks, hovering her hand at the base of his neck. Warmth radiates like waves throughout his body, as though she is healing his nervous system. The headache and the nausea lift up and away.

Kefka stands up, and screeches. It’s time to move again. Behind some bushes. Xehanort follows and covers his mouth and nose with his cloak.

The poisonous gas releases from its joints and neck, and they all wait until it dissipates into the air.

“I grow tired of this,” Xehanort says.

“Let’s trip it.” Terra summons the nameless Keyblade again into his left hand. “Or are you incapable of that?”

Xehanort glares, disappearing into his own portal, only to reappear behind the clown as it stumbles its way back toward them. He hits one ankle with a burst - which seems like it took way too much out of him.

Kefka trips onto one knee.

“Not enough!” Terra yells. He eyes Garnet, who is hesitant at first. He nods, as if to give her his blessing.

She sends healing magic to Xehanort. He takes a deep breath before striking the other ankle with his might. The clown falls to its face.

The prime opportunity. Terra allows darkness to swirl around him, and he growls as he grips both Keyblades in the hardest blow he’s ever given, directly onto the clown’s face, like vehicles crashing.

It screams, like metal grinding.

Two gashes now stain its once indestructible face, showing the black skin underneath.

It attempts to grab Terra in a fury, and Garnet steps in front to summon another pillar of light so that it fails, falling to her knees when she’s finished.

Kefka grabs its own face, as if in pain. As if it was human again.

But Garnet screams.

Two more Darksides approach them, bringing forth more Heartless.

“No…” Terra groans. He doesn’t have to tell her to run away, for she’s already doing so, although she is tumbling. She heads toward the alleyway by the hospital, where he placed the elixir minutes before.

Kefka comes to and makes its way to Terra, who pants harder just to keep himself standing straight. Xehanort growls loudly and twirls his Keyblade, a sphere of time energy rupturing throughout.

It’s quiet and frozen again. Except for Xehanort, who adjusts himself with such a frustration that it’s like watching a spiteful mother clean up a child.

“That impudent, minuscule, subordinate, worthless neophyte of a clown,” he says, throwing around fancy insults at the Heartless that is clearly striking a nerve with him tonight.

The first thing Terra looks for is the princess. In the alleyway, on the ground, looking up at a swarm of Heartless about to pounce. Her shortstaff is to her chest, her eyes exhausted and teary.

He attacks the Heartless, although the Stop magic doesn’t doesn’t give way to their destruction. Not yet, anyway. They barely move from his force. But he hits enough to be sure they’d be gone when time moves forward again.

He checks the clock tower. Less than two minutes left until Kefka is gone for the night.

Terra takes a deep breath, his muscles sore and shaking from weariness. They are almost there.

Footsteps behind him. Xehanort eyes the clock tower as well, looking just as grateful.

“At last,” he says. He forms a grip into the air. Terra is thrown up against the wall telepathically, his wrists cemented to the brick behind him, both Keyblades gone in a crackle.

“I’ve been advised to practice patience, but no longer,” Xehanort says through his teeth, standing in front of Terra with his Keyblade in hand. “You’re too much trouble.”

Terra tries to wrestle with the invisible force, but he can’t. He can’t move anything. He cries out, because this can’t be the end. Xehanort holds his Keyblade in the air, aiming for the chest.

Garnet jumps from behind him and rams her shortstaff right into the back of Xehanort’s knee. He staggers and backhands her, where she collapses. She crawls back against the wall opposite, holding her hand up in fear in a futile attempt to protect herself.

“You insignificant brat,” Xehanort says as he raises his Keyblade against her.

But her hit releases Terra, and he tackles. One arm around the bastard’s chest, another twisting the armed wrist until the Keyblade is let go. Xehanort is a touch shorter than Terra, but he’s much thinner. He has no strength when magic is not involved.

Terra throws him, slamming him onto the ground which makes him bounce and roll away.

With Garnet following, Terra grabs the duffel bag of elixirs on the way and slings them over his shoulder. Kefka begins moving again. They runs across the street until they get situated close enough to the office building.

“Stand your ground,” he tells Garnet.

“What are you going to do?” She holds her place directly by his side.

Kefka follows them with its gaze, and walks forward. The gashes make it uglier, its neck ruffle and shoulder pads burnt.

“Just trust me,” Terra says. He summons both Keyblades and waits.

“Terra?” she says, her voice shaking with nervousness. Xehanort comes to and is running out toward them.

“Stand your ground.”

The clown comes close enough.

Terra thrusts the teeth of both Keyblades into the ground. The earth pops and spews, breaking the mended stones in a trail until it reaches the office building - specifically the corner wall where she planted the bomb on the first floor.

It explodes as Kefka steps right past it. The building starts to crumble, triggering the second bomb to go off by the clown’s face. It screams like before, deafening the quake as the earth opens up the cobblestones underneath him and the princess.

They fall as the ground gives up. Garnet lets out a high-pitched scream, but she’s barely audible in comparison to the ruckus.

Xehanort slides to the edge of the open pit. He wears the face of someone who desperately missed his target, watching them splash into a rush of water below.

This chapter references Pixar’s Coco (2017).

A/N: I have defined the Spanish words and phrases used with context clues, but I wanted to make a note that some of it is Cuban slang (I can’t help it). There were definitely times where I had to be careful of what I was writing. For example, for “calavera” I nearly used “calabaza.” In Spanish, that means “pumpkin,” but Cubans use the names of food to describe lots of things. We use “calabaza” to mean sugar skull, and that’s why many people look at us like we’re crazy. For example, in the movie, Frida Kahlo prepares a papaya that she makes her clone dancers crawl out of. For us, a papaya is the word we use for the woman’s nether-regions. You can imagine what kind of context we understood those scenes to mean, LMAO.

#terraqua #kingdom hearts fanfiction #terqua #kh fanfic #terra #aqua #young xehanort #garnet til alexandros #kefka palazzo #hector #miguel #coco #i know this is coming out far later than planned #i am still trying to catch up to this hell week my god #my fic

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