Content Warnings: Violence, murder mention, blood, use of y/n, distantquest ghb (my pookie)
Notes: this one is the most cringe out of all of my re-uploads but after this it'll all be fresh content!!! currently working on a Spider-man Noir oneshot
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"Welcome to the Dark(ish) Carnival!"
The purple-coloured banner hanging above your head made you chuckle slightly under your breath. Your eyes glanced slowly around the circus tents in front of you.
You had never been one to interact with purplebloods, really. They'd naturally cull you on sight. However, a kindly clown preacher (cleacher) had directed you to this extravagant event. Despite how odd they had acted, their words were in no way malicious. They didn't seem like they were directing you towards a lowblood culling fair or anything.
The scenery surrounding you was precisely what you were expecting from the clown caste. Balloons, rides, tents, and the occasional splatter of blood. You tried your best to pay it no mind. However, if this is the place you were to die, it wouldn't really surprise you.
The trolls attending the carnival were mostly highbloods, really no castes lower than jade. You began to regret your decision to investigate the odd circus. This location was a one-way ticket to your burgundy blood splattered on the ground.
Whispering voices surrounded you as the carnival patrons noticed the lowblood attendee. You tried walking a little faster as you felt eyes gazing from every direction. This was a bad idea. A very, very bad idea.
Though you were in no immediate danger, you found yourself taking cover behind a particularly large tent. While you sat down, you mentally reprimanded yourself for blindly trusting the preacher, despite their caste's violent reputation. Of course they had invited you, the highbloods needed someone culled for entertainment. Your bloodpusher rattled in your ribcage at an alarming frequency as you tried to catch your breath.
"hey. little motherfucker."
You nearly passed out from the shock as you heard a gravelly, masculine voice right next to you. Your body trembled and you refused to turn to look at whoever it was for fear of what you might see.
"i know you FUCKIN' HEARD ME. come on and LOOK AT ME." his voice raised to a slight growl and you felt a large hand grab your wrist.
There was no resisting now. You slowly turned your gaze towards whoever it was.
There stood a purpleblood, unsurprisingly. He was a young adult, seemingly much taller and heavyweight than most trolls of his age. He towered over you with a height almost as tall as a full-grown fuschia.
"what's your NAME, MOTHERFUCKER?" his eyes narrowed, any emotion hidden inside them indescernible.
Your quaking form refused to settle as you stared up at him. Refusing to answer would result in death, you realized. "[Y/n]," you managed to choke out, trying not to make direct eye contact.
"you're a TINY MOTHERFUCKIN' RUSTY," he mused, crossing his arms lazily. "what brings you here, other than to GET YOUR ASS CULLED?"
You couldn't determine whether he was being sincere or aggressive. The way he spoke really seemed to indicate both, honestly. "I... was invited. B-by a preacher I listened to on the street."
The clown paused for a moment, his gaze tinted with mild curiosity. "you here to listen to the WICKED WORD?"
You nodded quickly. Perhaps he would be less inclined to beat your skull in with those juggling pins on his belt if he knew you were curious about his religion.
Silently, he lifted you up and set you back onto your feet, his eyebrow quirked with intrigue and his lips curled into a malicious grin. "follow me," he ordered, pulling you by your hand into the tent.
The large tent was separated into two parts. Passing by earlier, you had caught a glimpse of the first area, a large theater-like room, presumably for sermons. Now, you were being led (or really dragged) into a smaller area, set up like a dressing room.
A framed image on a table held a picture of your new companion dressed in more formal attire.
Wait. What was the sign on his chest in the portrait?
...Capricorn.
Only one purpleblood held such an iconic symbol. Your stomach backflipped as you realized who was holding on to your wrist. Surely nothing good could come of this.
The Grand Highblood led you to a small couch, releasing his grip on your wrist and pulling up a chair for him to sit on so he could face you. You tentatively sat on the couch, not willing to refuse the words of such an important (and violent) clown.
"do you KNOW WHO I AM?" he asked coolly.
You nodded quickly. "You... you're the Grand Highblood," you mumbled, shock seeping into your voice.
"yeah. just call me GHB."
You dipped your head, acknowledging the order. You locked eyes with him for a moment before turning your gaze to the ground.
GHB took your chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing you to look him in his eyes. He regarded you carefully, taking in your features. After a moment of you squirming in his grasp, he released you, leaning back in his seat nonchalantly.
"not many rusties like yourself take up the MOTHERFUCKIN' COURAGE to WALK UP IN THIS PLACE," he commented, sounding mildly impressed with your bravery. You mumbled your thanks.
A second of silence passed before GHB spoke up again. "hey. y'know i ain't gonna cull you, right?" his words were somewhat gentle and you mustered up the courage to look him in the eyes again. He was... being sincere. You smiled sheepishly, dipping your head in thanks to his mercy.
The edges of his lips curled into a smirk. "you're a SPECIAL LITTLE MOTHERFUCKER, THOUGH. so don't think you're goin' back to a life that's ANY SEMBLANCE OF NORMAL AFTER THIS."
GHB's words confused you. What exactly was he implying with that statement?
"what i mean is i WANT YOU TO STAY HERE," he rumbled, taking your face in his hand again. "a freaky little BURGUNDY LIKE YOU is too fuckin' special to just up n' forget about." He inched his face closer to yours, and you felt your cheeks immediately flush a deep red.
Your flustered reaction made GHB grin with satisfaction and he closed the gap between your faces, kissing you roughly.
He placed his hands on your waist, slipping a hand under your shirt, earning a shocked squeak from you. After a moment, he pulled away, his eyes narrowed and a smug grin on his lips. Your face was still deep red, and you couldn't bring yourself to speak. Though... if he had done something you hadn't liked, you would've tried your luck escaping. It did feel nice.
GHB stood from his seat, gazing down at you fondly. "now then, little rusty. i have a SWEET-ASS SERMON TO PREACH. don't you go anywhere."
with that, he slipped out of the changing room into the main area, leaving you shocked on the couch.
You let your muscles relax after a moment, leaning into the plush cushions with your mind swimming with a thousand thoughts.
Only one thought remained dominant in the cacophony.
You know, I feel like a lot of Fansims seriously underestimate how powerful the Reader should logically be after the end of Pesterquest.
Like, their actions were literally destabilizing and destroying all of Paradox Space. Reality literally blinks out if existence if you refuse to fix it and even Ultimate Dirk gets concerned about things. In order to stop it, they absorb the entire Green Sun and manage to foribly stabilize a doomed timeline without destroying the rest of reality. That's honestly a Lord English level feat right there.
I'm not buying that Doc Scratch should be able to beat them to death with a crowbar (JuJu or not) is my point. Much less that any regular troll on Alternia should be capable of as much as scratching them.
Although, it'd be kinda hard to write around that level of OP to be fair... and most of these fansims aren't finished yet, so it's possible they'll eventually explain it.
