1 - 20 of 24 Works by Adversarial
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"... Alright, I give," he finally says. He leans back and really looks at you-- alive, in spite of half a lifetime of his best, most desperate efforts. You give him another uneven smile. "Why not just kill me?"
"I will," you say, because it's true, and twenty years after the fact you finally understand that you owe him this much. "Publicly, of course. To make an example."
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In the wake of a failed assassination attempt, Red Leader gets everything he's ever wanted. It isn't enough.
Series
- Part 2 of tribunal
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there aren't a lot of things that will get you to sleep the night before a mission-- a hot bath, a bottle of benzos, a good lay, a severe concussion. all four of these are currently unavailable to you, so you spend the first few hours pacing, and the next few cracking bad jokes on the shortwave with edd and matt before the two of them sign off for bed. you consider bashing your skull into the reinforced steel door a few times, just to see if it'd knock you out for a bit. ultimately decide against that.
you move onto plan b.
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Tom, a sniper caught up in the ongoing rebellion against Red Army, jacks off. Tord haunts the narrative.
Series
- Part 1 of tribunal
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Summary
His Knottr profile isn't the most promising.
There's a hammer and sickle emoji in place of a name. His face is cropped out of the shirtless pic. It's not a total dealbreaker: you just go by your first initial on here, and you also keep your face off the gay hookup app. He's got abs, scars, and a fire engine red prosthetic arm that his bio says he made himself; intriguing, maybe even sexy, but not enough to cancel out the "make me your omega sissy" on the next line.
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Or: the Tomtord Omegaverse Alpha4Alpha transgender4transphobe sissification post-End enemies-to-worse-enemies angst/romance/smut semi-crack pseudo-darkfic that literally no one asked for. Lightly dusted with Fight Club references. Mind the knots.
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"Didja miss me?" he grits out, huffing out a laugh until you stomp down on the bullet hole. "Aahhhh, fuck. Fuck, that hurts."
The dream's already falling apart around you, and you scramble to cling to it: you're Stephanie, you're 27, you're in your childhood friend Vin's cabin. Please, you need this. You need this one fucking moment of release. Three bullets isn't enough. You need him to die slowly, again and again, until the gouged-out void he's left inside you is full of something, anything. You don't care if it's ugly.
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Jeff, Vinny, Evan, and Steph are trapped in a house and a time loop by an unknowable god. At night, they dream of realities that were almost theirs.
HABIT takes matters into his own hands.
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"Less flirting, more explaining," older you says. He's started to put your clothes away, quicker and more methodically than you would. The sight of you, twenty years older and a soldier, sorting and balling socks, makes you feel an emotion you didn't know you had. Something between nostalgia and absurdist humor. You sit down on the floor and, after a second, both Tords move to follow suit.
Older Tord takes a long drag off his cigar and gives you a winsome smile. The sunset light from the window paints him golden.
"Welcome to the time loop," he says.
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Tom and Tord are college students, sworn enemies, and possibly fucking on the side. Red Leader and his bodyguard are on a sex vacation into the past with complex spatiotemporal consequences that shape the future military state. Double determination and chill?
Series
- Part 2 of in the new year (swingers au)
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You don't know how he does this to you, present and future. You don't know how he keeps ripping your feelings out of your stomach like they're just so many intestines. He's the only person who has ever been able to do this to you and you think you hate him for it. You want to hate him for it. You're not sure if you could manage to feel something that simple about Tom, present or future. While you agonize, he stands up and crosses the short distance between you. His hand grazes your cheek and your entire body jolts.
"Easy," he says, and you're suspended between the urge to shove him away from you and the urge to lean further into his hands and cry. He's got such large, strong hands; maybe you've finally found someone strong enough to hold you together. "It's okay."
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Tom comes back in time to help soothe Tord's anxieties, setting the time loop into motion. Set during chapter 3 of In The New Year.
Series
- Part 3 of in the new year (swingers au)
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When you force your eyes to focus on him, his expression is hard to parse. You recognize pieces of it from yourself-- you know smug when you see it-- and, startlingly, pieces from Tom. This is the look he gives you, sometimes, when you get desperate and crawl in his second-story window in the middle of the night: annoyed, appraising, disturbed. You're crowding him again, trying to lean into the familiarity. You rest your forehead on his shoulder and wrap your arms around his waist. There is a whine building in the back of your throat that you're trying to choke down.
"You should fuck me. I think you should fuck me. Do you want me to beg? I can do that. Don't you want to punish me?" You're back to pawing at his chest. "God, I'd want to if I were you. I'd want to kick the everloving shit out of me."
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Or: Red Leader goes back in time to fuck himself, complete a time loop, and remember why he tries to forget college.
Series
- Part 1 of in the new year (swingers au)
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Summary
When you settle into the jaeger with him, it's a homecoming you never wanted.
The cockpit is as small as ever-- he'd built it with one body in mind originally, when he'd used it to smash your old life to splinters under his metal fist-- and between your body and his body and your respective flight suits, there's no space. You wind up with your left knee bumping into his right one, your side pressed to his through the layers of sweat-wicking fabric and sensors. When he grins at you, lopsided as ever, you sneer.
"Nostalgic, isn't it?" he says, his voice filtered through the sounds of metal groaning outside. A few klicks from where you're both sitting, a monster the size of a skyscraper is crushing the city underfoot. The parallels aren't lost on you.
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Or: The Pacific Rim/Evangelion TomTord Ballroom Dance AU
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If you leave a boy alone in a war for long enough, the war will tear through him like a hurricane. The wreckage it leaves behind is a trace; this is a negative copy of the destruction, a mirror image of the force that ripped him in two. This is how the war repeats. It carves itself a home inside of the boy, and the boy carves the war out of himself with trembling fingers.
There are always consequences to amputation.
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A character study and a homage to Richard Siken's War of the Foxes.
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your dream turned into a nightmare when i crawled inside it by Adversarial for lifeupbeta
Fandoms: Eddsworld - All Media Types
03 Oct 2020
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It fucks with your head, the way he goes calm when you tighten your grip and hurt him. You'll slam him against the wall, he'll scramble for purchase, you'll punch him in the stomach and leave him wheezing. Eventually, the violence hits some critical point that has the two of you tearing off your clothes, his skin hot and flushed where he pulls you close. He kisses you like he wants to eat you alive, clings to you like he wants to melt into your body and stay there forever even as he's cursing your name and scratching bloody welts into your back.
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Tom is the best bodyguard in the world because he's going to be the one to kill Tord. He'll murder anyone who tries to beat him to the punch.
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goodbye to a world by Adversarial
Fandoms: Half Life VR But The AI Is Self Aware, HLVRAI - Fandom
09 Jun 2020
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Here is what you know for certain.
Your name is Dr. Coomer. Your first name is (Your name is Dr. Coomer. Your first name is).
You are a scientist working for Black Mesa. You have been working for Black Mesa for (Here is what you know for certain. Your name is) years and (Dr. Coomer. Your first name is) this (You are a scientist working for Black Mesa. Here is what you know for certain) something is (Your name is Dr. Coomer) wrong, (Here is what you know for certain) something has gone (Your name is)
terribly wrong.
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(in retrospect, that was probably what did it: you, alone in your kitchen, in your soft-cicada apartment. you had hoped, always, for a quiet life, but you were learning the intricacies of silence a little too well.)
You dial the number on the card and Ramuda’s voice echoes through the speakers and you are wondering if you are making the correct decision when you—
”—I accept,” said Sir Specter.
The Sphinx smiled its unknowable smile. “Perfect!” it said, and the knight could not, for the life of him, tell if he had made a terrible mistake. “I think that we will have such fun together!”
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(in which Our Protagonist, the Lonely Phantom Knight, goes off in search of a story and meets a more colorful cast of characters than he could have ever imagined.)
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He was brilliant, and cagey, and saw through your ruse instantly, which was startling and distressing in equal measures. But he never called you on your bluff (as he smiled at you over your breakfast, his face greasy with oil, not quite a leer but approaching it). Instead, he twisted it around on you-- he was vapid, and shallow, and violent, and lacked any shred of self-awareness.
You loathed him because he was you.
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the starboy apocrypha by Adversarial for distorted-tord
Fandoms: Eddsworld - All Media Types, Dear Starboy
04 Mar 2018
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"Concerning these scriptures, which are called apocryphal, for the reason that many things are found in them corrupt and against the true faith handed down by the elders, it has pleased them that they not be given a place nor be admitted to authority.”— Origen, on Song of Songs
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Tom is a lonely, disillusioned high school student.
Tord is an eclectic new neighbor with a grin that is hiding something."It's funny," Tord says, "how Sirius looks like it's a single star. Deceptive. There's about 10 AU separating the pair of them, you know. Culturally, everyone just assumed they were the same."
Tom nodded, unsure of where he was going with this. Tord smiled a little too widely.
"Do you get it yet, Tom?"
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"Mind if I buy you a drink, Paul? I need to talk out some ideas with a person who gets it." He was smiling at you, half-joking but half-serious and desperate and you got that, the desperation to be understood and to be not alone for once.
"Drinks are on me," you said, hoisting yourself off the curb and offering him a hand up. He took it.
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For a long time, the two of you are silent. The city is bright below you, strung with fairy lights and full of laughing pedestrians. The weather forecast promised snow by midnight and you lost feeling in your fingertips an hour ago.
“So. How’s the new apartment?” You reach for the bottle again. He lets your fingers brush as you fumble it. When you look up at him, he’s not looking at you.
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(years ago. you and him. christmas eve, you had— )
(— whatever.)
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You break down.
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You stare at the figure before letting your head fall back against your pillow. Your hangover is killing you. Did you get wasted and hire a hooker? Why were you wasted?
Where are you?
... Why are you handcuffed to the bed?
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("and here you are. leaving again." you can't read his expression. "amazing how that works.")
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(he said,) tell me all your thoughts on god by Adversarial
Fandoms: Eddsworld - All Media Types
01 Jul 2017
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"What's your name?"
"Thomas," you said. "Do you think that cutting the worm in half will make it two worms?"
"I'm Tord," he said, as you sat down next to him on the sidewalk and put the worm down between you. Time to be worm surgeons. "And I think that would be the coolest thing ever."
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(He smiled at you then, gentle and genuine. You weren't used to seeing this from Tord, of all people, and your heart did something painful and hopeful and desperate. You wanted...)
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and all the gods in all the worlds began colliding by Adversarial
Fandoms: Eddsworld - All Media Types
09 Jun 2017
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He pauses. When he speaks again, his tone is much less level. "My back, Tord.”
You remember this feeling, how it slammed hard into you when you left him cut open on the counter, how violently your hands had been shaking when you tried, over and over, to wash his blood off your hands. Self-loathing and desperation and fear and possession and disgusting, disgusting pride.
"Oh.”
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(an allegory:
once upon a time, there was a young man chained up in a cave-)
Series
- Part 2 of tick, tick, boom!