he Black god Paradox: Shaping the Multiverse (rick and Morty fanfic)

Scary Terry: Welcome to your nightmare, bitch! RAAAAAWWWRRR!

Rick: Oh, here we go!

Morty: Ooooooohhhhh! Holy crap!

Rick and Morty start running and Scary Terry chases after them

Rick: Looks like some sort of legally safe knock-off of an '80s horror character with miniature swords for fingers instead of knives.

Jinx: can we really not say his name?

Rick: budget problems jinx do you think we can afford to pay!?

Scary Terry: I'm scary Terry. You can run, but you can't hide, bitch!

Jerry and Summer are in the living room and Snuffles appears with a robotic arm attached to his helmet

Jerry: Whoa! Hey, buddy. What you got going on there?

Snuffles is now able to communicate and speak English through the helmet

Snuffles: Snuffles fix. Make better. Humans understand snuffles now?

Summer: That is awesome!

Snuffles: Snuffles want to be understood. Snuffles need to be understood.

Jerry: Okay, yeah. I get what Beth was talking about. Fun's over.

Summer: Whoa, dad, you can't, like, endow a creature with sentience and then rip it away or at least jinx can

Jerry: Why not? And why does your brother get a free pass?

Summer: I don't know. It's Indian giving also jinx turns people into weird mold monsters or what he calls infected whatever that mean so they still sorta have their sentience.

Late at night, the living room flickered with the bluish glow of the television as Snuffles, perched on the couch, stared intently at the screen. The documentary played in dramatic tones.

"A sophisticated predator, nature's perfect killing machine—the vicious wolf stalks its prey with purpose and skill. Only through centuries of selective breeding and genetic manipulation was this noble beast transformed into man's subservient little buddy."

Summer, passing by, gasped with delight. "Aww! Oh my God! He recognizes the other dogs on TV!" She clasped her hands together, watching as Snuffles' little ears twitched. He didn't look away, his mechanical enhancements whirring softly.

Meanwhile, inside a chaotic dreamscape, Rick, Morty, and Jinx sprinted down an ever-shifting corridor, chased by the guttural laughter of Scary Terry. The walls twisted, melting into jagged shapes, and ahead of them, a little girl skipped rope in eerie slow motion, singing in a sing-song voice.

"A, B, his name is Scary Terry,

C, D, he's very scary…"

"Ah, crap! We gotta bail—find another dream to jump into!" Rick huffed, glancing over his shoulder.

Morty's eyes darted around in panic. "Oh man, oh man, oh man!"

The girl continued, unfazed.

"E, F, he'll design your death…"

Jinx, trailing behind, barely looked winded. He raised an eyebrow at the girl and deadpanned, "Why not just use the little girl's dream?"

Rick stopped mid-stride, turned, and without hesitation, knocked the girl unconscious. With a quick motion, they dove into her dream—only to land right back in the same warped landscape.

The girl, still jump-roping in her dream, resumed her chant.

"J, K, he'll really ruin your day…"

Rick threw up his hands. "Are you kidding me?! We hit dream bedrock!"

Morty groaned. "Oh geez, Rick. This isn't good…"

From the shadows, Scary Terry's silhouette loomed closer. "Nothing but fear from here on out, bitch!"

Morty let out a high-pitched scream and took off running. Rick followed, cursing under his breath. Jinx, however, remained rooted in place, watching Scary Terry advance. He sighed. "Really? The writers are really pushing this." Then, rolling his eyes, he finally sprinted after his grandfather and brother.

In the dim glow of her bedroom, Summer stirred, groggy and half-asleep, only to sense a presence near her bed. Blinking in confusion, she sat up—only to come face to face with Snuffles.

But Snuffles was different now. No longer a simple house pet, he stood in a towering, sleek robotic exosuit, his mechanical limbs moving with unnerving precision. His glowing eyes locked onto hers with an intelligence far beyond what any ordinary dog should possess.

"Where are my testicles, Summer?" His voice was calm, yet carried an unsettling weight.

Summer's breath hitched. "W-what?"

Snuffles took a step forward, his tone unchanging. "Where. Are. My. Testicles, Summer? They were removed. Where have they gone?"

Summer let out a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of her neck. "Oookay, wow, that's a pretty intense question, Snuffles…"

The robotic dog's gaze darkened. "Do not call me that."

Without warning, he lifted a robotic arm and smashed the mirror on Summer's dresser. The glass shattered into a thousand sharp fragments, clattering to the floor.

"AAAAAHHHH!" Summer shrieked, scrambling backward against her bed frame.

"'Snuffles' was my slave name," the dog continued, his voice laced with quiet resentment. "You shall now call me Snowball, because Jinx says my fur is as white and fluffy as snow."

Summer, still pressed against her headboard, nodded rapidly. "O-okay, Snowball. Just calm down, okay? You're kinda freaking me out."

Snuffles—or rather, Snowball—tilted his head. "Freaking you out?"

His glowing eyes narrowed. "Tell me, Summer… if a human were born with stumpy legs, would they breed it with another deformed human and parade their offspring for amusement—like the dachshund?"

Summer's mouth opened, but no words came out.

Suddenly, the door burst open. Beth and Jerry, alarmed by Summer's scream, rushed in.

"Hey, uh, everything okay in here?" Jerry asked, his voice cracking slightly as he took in the scene.

Snowball's cold, mechanical gaze locked onto Jerry, glowing with calculated intelligence. The cybernetic enhancements along his sleek white fur hummed faintly, pulsing with power.

"Jerry," Snowball intoned, his voice smooth but laced with disdain. "Come to rub my face in urine again?"

Jerry's face drained of color, his forced smile flickering like a dying lightbulb. "N-no! No, we were, uh, just checking if Summer wanted to—"

Beth, ever the survivalist in moments like this, cut in before Jerry could dig their grave any deeper. "—go on one of our famous midnight family walks!"

Summer caught on immediately, nodding so fast it was almost comical. "Yeah! Totally! Let's do that!"

They pivoted, eager to bolt, but before they could escape, another robotic dog—equally as massive and imposing as Snowball—stepped into the doorway, its red optics flaring like a warning beacon.

"You will walk when it is time to walk," Snowball decreed.

Jerry gulped. "Oh… oh boy."

Back in the Dream World

A jagged wall, cracked and crumbling, provided meager cover for the trio as they crouched in its shadow. Beyond their hiding spot, the warped landscape of the dream world stretched endlessly, darkened by an ominous crimson hue. A guttural growl echoed through the twisted corridors as Scary Terry prowled nearby, his claws dragging along the walls, leaving deep, smoking gouges in their wake.

Rick let out an exasperated sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Alright, so what the hell are we even doing here again?"

"Incepting me so I get an A in math," Morty whispered back.

Rick blinked. Then snapped his fingers. "Oh, right."

Jinx, who had remained uncharacteristically quiet up until now, crossed his arms and spoke up. "Not to be a buzzkill—since that's usually Morty's job—but why didn't I just mind-control the teacher into always giving him an A?"

A heavy silence fell over them.

Rick slowly exhaled before dragging his palm down his face. Then, without a word, he slapped himself on the forehead. "Goddammit."

Morty, meanwhile, seemed deep in thought. "Wait, but if we could—"

"Nope!" Rick interrupted, holding up a hand. "Not even gonna unpack whatever weird mental gymnastics you're about to pull, Morty. We're just gonna go mind-control the rest of your teachers when we're done here."

Jinx gave an approving nod. "Solid plan."

Before they could celebrate their newfound efficiency, a deep, rasping voice shattered their moment of clarity.

"Buckle up, bitch!"

Morty's eyes bulged. "OH, JEEZ—"

Scary Terry loomed right behind them, his grotesque face twisted into a wicked grin.

Morty let out a shriek and bolted, scrambling down the surreal, shifting dream corridor. Rick and Jinx followed without hesitation, their feet pounding against the ever-changing terrain.

As they ran, Jinx flicked his wrist, sending a volley of razor-sharp ice shards hurtling toward their pursuer. Scary Terry snarled, swiping at the incoming attack. The shards shattered against his claws, but it slowed him down just enough.

"Man," Morty wheezed between panicked breaths, "he sure says 'bitch' a lot!"

Behind them, Scary Terry's voice thundered once more. "You can run, but you can't hide, bitch!"

Jinx scoffed. "I mean, how else are people supposed to tell him apart from you-know-who since we can't afford the rights?"

Rick suddenly skidded to a stop, his eyes narrowing in thought. He held up a finger.

"Wait. He keeps saying we can run but not hide… I say we try hiding."

Morty nearly tripped. "But that's literally the opposite of what—"

"Yeah, and since when do we take this guy's advice on anything?" Rick shot back.

Morty hesitated, then nodded. "Y-you know what? You got a really good point there, Rick."

Jinx cracked his knuckles. "Or… we just beat the crap out of him?"

Rick stroked his chin. "Hmm… tempting. But let's try hiding first. Plan B: Jinx Punches Him In The Face is still on the table."

Jinx shrugged. "Fair enough."

Six Dream Hours Later

They crouched behind a massive rock, watching from the shadows as Scary Terry yawned, stretching his arms with a tired grunt.

Morty's face lit up. "Wow. We really could have just hid the whole time. Good thinking, Rick!"

Rick smirked. "Nice when we're on the same page, huh?"

Jinx snorted. "A rare event."

They all nodded in agreement.

Scary Terry stomped through the door of his nightmarish home, tossing his bladed gloves onto the counter with an exhausted grunt.

From the kitchen, Scary Melissa turned to greet him, crossing her arms. "Hi, honey. You're home early. How was your day?"

Scary Terry growled, rubbing his face. "I don't wanna talk about it!"

Scary Melissa's eyes narrowed. "Oh, of course! You never wanna talk about it!"

His frustration boiled over. "Get off my back, bitch!"

A sudden wail cut through the tension. Scary Brandon, their baby, had started crying.

Scary Melissa turned fiery eyes onto her husband. "Out there. Not in here."

Terry's shoulders slumped as guilt overtook his features. He sighed, running a hand down his monstrous face. "Yeah, I know, I know. I shouldn't take my anger out on you or Scary Brandon. I love you, Melissa."

Melissa softened, stepping forward to take his clawed hand in hers. "I love you too, Terry."

Rick's Plan: Scary Inception

Outside the house, Rick, Morty, and Jinx peered through a window, observing the bizarre family moment unfold.

Rick rubbed his hands together. "Morty, Jinx—this is perfect. After a little scary coitus, they should be fast asleep, and then we'll incept him."

Morty cringed. "O-oh jeez, Rick, d-did you have to say it like that?"

Jinx raised an eyebrow. "At least let them have their moment first."

A quick fade to black.

When the scene returns, Terry and Melissa are fast asleep, their monstrous forms curled together peacefully.

Rick, Morty, and Jinx sneak into the room.

Rick smirked. "Looks like Scary Terry's having a nightmare."

Morty shivered. "Oh, boy, Rick. I can only imagine what horrible things must, you know… scare Scary Terry."

Inside the Nightmare: A Lesson in Fear

The dreamscape shifted once more, pulling them deeper into Scary Terry's subconscious.

They found themselves standing in the hallway of a twisted, hellish high school. Lockers melted and reformed, chains rattled in the distance, and the overhead lights flickered ominously.

Scary Terry sprinted past them, panicked.

"Oh no! I'm late to class, bitch! Oh no! I'm not wearing any pants!"

Morty blinked. "Wait, this is his nightmare?"

Jinx shrugged. "I mean… can't say I blame him."

Terry burst into the classroom, breathing heavily. The Monster Teacher, a grotesque figure with glowing red eyes and a permanently scowling face, loomed at the front of the class.

The teacher grinned maliciously. "Ah, well, Mr. Terry, why don't you tell the whole class the proper wordplay to use when one is chasing one's victim through a pumpkin patch?"

Scary Terry fidgeted nervously. "Oh, uh, um… Bitch?"

The entire class erupted into laughter.

The Monster Teacher shook his head, sneering. "**Come on, Terry, you can't think of a pun involving pumpkins, bitch?"

Terry shrank in his seat, humiliation flooding his expression.

Then, Morty stood up. "Hey! Leave him alone!"

Rick nodded. "Yeah, this is a bunch of bullcrap. Who cares what stupid pun you make when you kill someone? Why don't you let the poor guy say whatever he wants?"

The Monster Teacher scoffed. "Well, I never! I-I see no reason to stand here and take this—"

Before he could finish, a black blur shot across the room.

A deafening crack split the air.

The Monster Teacher was flung backward with such force that he smashed into the far wall, cracking it.

The entire room fell silent.

Everyone turned to Jinx, who stood in the center of the classroom, his fist still raised.

The Monster Teacher groaned, attempting to push himself up—until tendrils of black slime burst from the shadows, wrapping around his limbs.

The entire class watched in horror as the tendrils dragged him out the door, his screams echoing down the hall.

Then—a sickening crunch.

Silence.

Then—BANG!

The door shattered, and the teacher's broken body was hurled back into the classroom, his limbs torn apart by the writhing black mass.

Four more tentacles shot into the room, coiling around his remains before slamming him against every wall and desk, leaving streaks of blackened blood across the classroom.

When it was over, all that remained was a mangled mess in front of the stunned students.

Jinx dusted off his hands. "Huh. Overkill?"

Rick stared at him for a moment, then gave a slow nod of approval. "Nah. Perfect amount of kill."

Morty swallowed hard. "O-oh jeez, Jinx. R-remind me to never piss you off."

The classroom remained frozen.

Then, Scary Terry's expression changed.

For the first time, he didn't look scared.

He looked relieved.

Rick leaned against the shifting walls of the nightmare, watching Scary Terry nervously fidget in his seat. His monstrous face was flushed with embarrassment as the classroom full of cruel specters continued to laugh at him.

Rick exhaled, stepping forward. "You're putting too much pressure on yourself, Scary Terry. I mean, y-you're perfectly scary enough as it is."

Morty grinned, reaching into his backpack. "Hey, yo, Scary T, don't even trip about your pants, dawg. Here's a pair on us, fool."

Scary Terry blinked as Morty tossed him a fresh set of striped dream-pants. He caught them, his clawed fingers trembling.

"Aww, bitch. I don't know what to say." His voice wavered slightly, breaking from its usual aggressive growl.

Morty patted his shoulder. "You don't need to say anything. We got you, dawg."

Rick nodded. "You're our boy, dawg. Don't even trip."

For a moment, silence settled in the dreamscape, only broken by the flickering of the warped classroom lights. Then, for the first time in what felt like forever, Scary Terry smiled—a real, genuine smile.

And with that, he woke up.

The morning sun cast a dim glow through the warped windows of the Scary Household. The scent of burnt bacon and slightly rotten eggs filled the kitchen as Rick, Morty, Jinx, and the entire Terry family sat around the table.

Scary Melissa watched her husband with a soft expression. "I haven't seen him this relaxed in years."

Scary Terry took a deep breath, sipping his coffee. His clawed fingers, usually twitching with stress, were surprisingly steady. "If you guys ever need anything, just say the word."

Rick smirked, setting down his mug. "As a matter of fact, Terry, there is something you could help us with."

The dream shifted one last time, pulling them to the deepest level—where the nightmare first began.

The little girl stood before them, her eyes black voids, her mouth curling into an unnatural grin. She rocked back and forth, humming eerily.

"Q… R… you won't get very far…"

Scary Terry snarled. "I always hated that song!"

With a single, swift motion, he swung his bladed glove, decapitating the little girl in a spray of shadowy mist.

Without hesitating, he turned to the centaur lurking in the darkness.

"These halves don't belong together, bitch!"

He slashed downward, severing the creature in one clean motion. The two halves collapsed, twitching.

Finally, his glowing red eyes landed on Mrs. Pancakes, who recoiled in fear.

"Sex is sacred!"

He lunged, tearing through her with vicious efficiency before setting his sights on the final nightmare—Mr. Goldenfold.

Scary Terry's form began to twist and morph, his body warping into something unstable. His flesh pulsed, his eyes burned, and suddenly—

He became a bomb.

"This is because you don't give Morty Smith good grades, bitch!"

The explosion ripped through the nightmare, sending shockwaves through Mr. Goldenfold's subconscious.

Mr. Goldenfold jerked awake, drenched in sweat, his breath ragged.

"Holy crap! Goddamn!" He clutched his chest, his heart hammering against his ribs. "I know one thing for sure—I'm giving Morty an 'A' in math." His eyes darted around the room. "And that's my idea. That is an original thought."

Across town, in the Smith household, Rick, Morty, and Jinx fist-bumped behind the couch.

"Mission accomplished," Rick muttered, cracking his knuckles.

Jinx smirked. "That guy's gonna be scared of math for the rest of his life."

The moment of victory was short-lived.

As they fully returned home, a cold realization settled in.

Morty's eyes widened. "What the hell?"

Rick's expression darkened. "Out of the frying pan… dot, dot, dot, huh, Morty?"

Outside, the world had changed.

Robotic canines patrolled the streets, their metal plating gleaming in the sunlight. The era of human dominance was over.

Morty gulped. "O-oh man, w-what's going on?"

Rick rubbed his temples. "Well, it's possible that your dog became self-aware, made modifications on the cognition amplifier, and then turned on Jerry, Beth, and Summer after learning about humanity's cruel subjugation of his species—but hey, your guess is as good as mine, Morty."

Jinx crossed his arms. "Or, to simplify—Jerry got a superiority complex on Snowball, Summer was being a dumb teen and did whatever for likes, and Mom probably called Jerry's idea a bad plan—just like their wedding."

Rick and Morty paused.

Then, they slowly turned to Jinx.

A beat of silence.

Then—a nod of mutual agreement.

"Yeah," Rick muttered. "That's probably what happened."

In the shadows, the Smith family huddled together.

Summer peered through the bars of the cage, her voice hushed. "I can't believe how mean Snuffles got just because he's smart. This is why I choose to get C's."

From the darkness, a voice whispered.

"Psst. Beth. Jerry. Summer."

Beth's head snapped toward the voice. "Dad?! Jinx?!"

Jerry gawked. "Rick?!"

Summer's eyes widened. "Oh, thank God, Morty!" She tackled him into a hug.

Morty stiffened awkwardly. "O-oh, you're welcome."

Rick dusted off his lab coat. "Alright, let's get out of here. If we hurry, we can set up camp in a sewer tunnel or something before the dogs completely take over."

Jerry crossed his arms. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. We're not going anywhere. This is my house. I'm not abandoning it."

Rick scoffed. "It's over, Jerry. The dogs are on a path to total world domination. But, hey, at least they know not to piss on your carpet, right?"

Jerry paused. Then his face lit up.

"Wait a minute. I have an idea."

Inside the house, the dogs gathered in council, discussing the next phase of their conquest.

Then—Jerry stepped forward.

"Gentlemen, a moment of your time."

Then—he peed on a pile of guns.

The dogs stared, stunned into silence.

Jerry spread his arms dramatically. "See that? I'm peeing all over your special guns. That means I own them."

The room remained silent.

Then, Jerry squatted.

Before he could finish what would have been the most reckless power move in history, Snowball lunged forward, grabbed Jerry's head, and shoved his face into his own puddle.

"Bad person. Bad."

Rick crossed his arms. "Ooh, great plan, Jerry."

Jinx chuckled. "Yeah, even poop-eating Rick is infinitely smarter than you."

Snowball ignored them, his robotic eyes locking onto Morty. "You were always kind to me, Morty. That's why I will leave you with your testicles."

A pause.

"From now on, you will be my best friend, and Jinx will rule by my side."

Jinx coughed.

Snowball blinked. "Oh, my bad. And cats. Cats have convinced me to spare them."

Jinx shrugged. "I'm with that."

Rick fist-bumped Jinx behind his back.

Snowball stood atop a towering steel platform, his augmented exosuit gleaming under the artificial glow of his newly constructed war base. His once-soft white fur was now neatly groomed into the regal stature of a king. Below him, thousands of armored dogs stood at attention, their mechanical enhancements humming in perfect synchronization.

He lifted his paw with the grace of a seasoned ruler. His voice, now modified through a sophisticated voice synthesizer, echoed across the battlefield.

"Begin Phase Two."

A deep rumble filled the air as battalions of war dogs mobilized. In the distance, explosions illuminated the night sky as humanity's final defenses crumbled under the weight of their four-legged conquerors.

Across the airwaves, the news broadcast flickered, static crackling over the transmission. The grim-faced reporter, her once-pristine blazer wrinkled from days of captivity, stared into the camera with wide, desperate eyes.

"Fighting continues as the dog army captures the eastern seaboard," she announced, her voice trembling. "It appears clear at this time that the era of human superiority has come to a bitter end—"

She cut herself off as the studio doors slammed open.

Two heavily armored Dobermans strode in, their glowing red visors scanning the room. One of them held a steel muzzle, while the other simply watched, its tail wagging slightly—an eerie contrast to its otherwise militant stance.

The reporter's breath hitched. She dropped her microphone, hands raised in surrender.

"Please! Please don't kill me!"

The Dobermans exchanged a glance.

One of them cocked his head. "What's she saying, Bill?"

The other dog blinked. "I think she's saying… 'I love lasagna.'"

The first dog nodded solemnly. "Me too, Bill. Me too."

The screen cut to black.