#mind controlled and forced to do an invasion he was ever so against? no lmao | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

snarky-badger · 3 years

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Snapshots 5/5

The final part of the Grievous stuff that I wrote some years ago. I hope you’ve all enjoyed my descent into madness. Lmao.

Kyra looked up from the datapad she was studying as a loud crash echoed through the Citadel, brow furrowing as she rose out of the chair she was sitting in. Her right hand scooped up the blaster that was on a nearby table before she strode out of the quarters she shared with Grievous and into the maze-like hallways of the cyborg's lair.

That the droids that guarded the Citadel weren't on high alert was a good sign - it meant that there wasn't an intruder. Which, unfortunately, meant that the source of the sounds was something all too common.

Worried for a completely different reason now, she sprinted to the control room, the heart of the Citadel's massive security system, as well as where the high-tech medical centre was situated. She passed a beheaded commando droid, and then a dazed medical droid, ignoring the warning warbles from two Magna droids as she skidded to a stop in front of the control room's door and started to put in the code that would allow her entry.

But the door whooshed open before she got halfway through the code, and she had half a second to blink in surprise before two arms wrapped around her and yanked her beyond the security door and into a powerful embrace.

Kyra automatically slid her own arms around Grievous' form as he buried his masked face in her hair. A massive shudder went through him, his arms tightening around her possessively when she tried to lean back to look at him. She gave in without protest, nuzzling her face against his armored chest as she gingerly extended her Force senses, frowning when she felt the turmoil and anger that was roiling in him.

Instinct had her soothing that anger with her own calm and love, projecting it into his thoughts, not invasive, but just there, at the edge of his mind. He had to accept her presence, and he did, another shudder going through him when she sent a calming wave of energy through him.

"Need you," he rasped into her hair, voice raw. "I need you close. Please, taisilee."

She placed a kiss over his hidden heart. "You don't have to ask, love," she murmured, feeling another tremble wrack him as he nuzzled her shoulder, fairly crouching over her.

He rose to his full height, scooping her off her feet, and spun to stalk deeper into the heavily secured control room. He passed the computer system that controlled the security of the Citadel, then paused in the doorway to the medical wing, hesitating at the sight of the large bay that had already taken the brunt of his anger. A snarl left him as he whirled away from the destruction, stomping back to the computer room and tensing when he remembered that there was a camera built into the monitor.

With the way his day was going, Dooku would remotely activate the damned thing just as he was settling down with Kyra in his arms.

A low, threatening, growl rumbled out of him at the thought, eyes narrowing, pupils shrinking into dangerous slits. Grievous couldn't let Dooku know of Kyra's existence. The Sith Lord was a very real threat to Kyra's life, and he'd be damned if he let that threat turn into reality.

Kyra gasped as another enraged snarl left him, meeting his gaze and shivering at the anger there. "Grievous." Worried, she rose her hands to his face, shifting in his hold so she could place a kiss over his vocalizer. "Grievous, look at me." When that brilliant gaze jerked to her, barely controlled anger making his eyes glitter dangerously, she lightly brushed her fingers over his mask, just below his expressive eyes. "Let's go outside, love. No walls, no cameras. Just us."

He blinked at her, and for a moment, Kyra was worried that he was too far gone into his anger to understand her. But a second later, he was hurrying out of the control room, arms splitting into four, two lightsabers igniting in time to slice the security door in half.

She blinked over his shoulder at the startled Magna droids and offered them an apologetic look before Grievous swung around a corner, loping through the corridors like a predator on the hunt. Lightsabers were deactivated and replaced into the pouches in his cloak before he returned his hands to her, cradling her in his four arms as he darted through the Citadel's maze-like interior.

He was moving so quickly that she lost track of where they were, distracted by how his hands were lightly clenching and unclenching around her, his breathing a low series of wheezing growls and snarls. Even a brief series of coughs didn't slow him down, if anything, he pushed himself harder, cape billowing out behind him.

They reached a series of winding stairs that Kyra had never seen before, and she felt Grievous' grip on her tighten as he raced up them, taking them four steps at a time. Worried, she extended a bit of her Force senses, frowning when the massive ball of his anger and rage threatened to buckle her mental shields. He had told her that there were times where his anger would overrule his strict control, leaving him nothing but a creature of uncontrolled rage. But she had never expected it to be this severe. He was barely coherant, clinging to her presence - his last lifeline. What little control he had left was dangling by a thread, and he knew it.

The door they came up on buckled under a vicious kick, and Grievous carried her past it and out onto the mesa that topped the Citadel. It was the highest peak for miles, the planet's landscape stretching out below them, mists adding an eerie yet beautiful tinge to the scenery.

But Kyra ignored it, turning her attention onto Grievous as he tried to set her on her feet, a snarl leaving him when she shook her head and curled her own arms around him, fingers finding purchase on bits of his armor.

When he realized that she wasn't letting go, he hissed and instead tightened his hold on her to the point that it was almost painful before he started pacing. Taloned feet tore up the rock as he paced the length of the mesa top, back and fourth, over and over again, as if he was a caged animal that was breaking under severe mental pressure.

Her concern tripled, and she frowned as she reached up again, gently tilting his face down to hers and meeting his turmoiled gaze. His eyes were wild, the whites visible around his irises, his pupils slitted so thinly that they were almost nonexistent amongst the gold. His gaze darted from her to the mesa top and back again as he continued his pacing, hunched over a little, legs working tirelessly.

"Grievous, talk to me." She splayed one hand over his armored chest, the other rising to lightly stroke the right sensor on the side of his head, taking comfort in the fact that while he snarled at her, he did ever so slightly lean his head into her touch. Slowly, radiating calmness and trust, she sent a very tiny pulse of warmth through him, feeling his arms tighten around her as a low growl rumbled out of him, his frantic steps slowing just a little.

As a last ditch effort to reach him, she dropped all but her inner mental shields and gingerly brushed her thoughts against his. His first reaction - lashing out - was purely instinctual, and she weathered the attack, diffusing the anger and rage he buffeted her with and replying with waves of concern and warmth. He growled again, but this time, it was deeper, more of a rumble than a real threatening sound.

Reassured, she carefully broadcasted her own emotions, absorbing every wave of anger that crashed against her mind and returning each with more calmness and echoes of her love for him. All the while, she kept brushing her hands across his shoulders, trying to sooth him physically as well as mentally.

Kyra didn't notice it at first, but somewhere along the way, she had started humming. Nothing grand, just a soft melody that she had heard and apparently memorized. And the sound seemed to be doing more towards calming Grievous than anything else. He had stopped his pacing, focusing all of his attention on her, eyes wide, head tilted a little to the side.

So she kept humming, going a step further to softly send the melody into his thoughts as she rose a hand to touch his face. He eyed her hand warily, growling warningly as her fingers brushed over his cheek, his raptorine body tensing. But she merely held his gaze and lightly caressed the armor under his left eye, smiling a little when he slowly relaxed and leaned his face against her palm.

It took almost five whole minutes before a soft, hesitant, rumble whispered out of him, Grievous' eyes losing the slightly crazed look, pupils returning to their usual size. "....t-taisilee?"

A relieved smile tugged at her lips before she placed a kiss over his vocalizer. "Welcome back."

He shivered. "You shouldn't have stayed," he murmured, even as he nuzzled her cheek apologetically.

"It's alright."

"No, it isn't," Grievous protested weakly, carefully shifting his hold on her to better cradle her to him while he buried his face against her neck, shivering when she stroked the sensors on either side of his head. The last twenty minutes were a dim blur in his mind. But, somehow, he knew that there would be bruises on her legs and side that would form to perfectly mirror his hands, could feel the headache his mentally lashing out had caused. "I hurt you."

"Grievous--"

"You should have left!" he snapped, jerking his head up to glare at her. "I hurt you! I could have killed you!"

She felt his guilt and self-loathing and sent a quick wave of reassurance into his thoughts. "If roles had been reversed, would you have left me? Would you have turned your back on me if I was alone and hopelessly lost in my own darkness?"

He balked at the idea. "Of course not! But, I could kill you simply by accident if I lose control!"

"And just because I don't flaunt my Force powers doesn't mean I don't know how to use them," Kyra murmured solemnly, her voice tinged with sadness.

"But--" He cut himself off, scowling as he realized what she was saying. Various memories of Dooku thoroughly beating him with his Force abilities during his lightsaber training surged to the forefront of his mind. "Hm. You never did tell me how powerful you are."

She smiled and cupped the lower part of his mask in her hands, placing another kiss over his vocaliser. "Don't try to change the subject."

"I'm not changing the subject," he muttered, even as he rose his upper left hand to lightly caress her cheek. "I'm going off on a tangent."

A soft laugh left her. "Same thing."

"No, it isn't." Grievous moved as close to the edge of the mesa top as he dared with Kyra in his arms, then sat down, arranging his taisilee's body so she was leaning back against him. Sitting so close to one another gave him a sharp reminder that he was almost twice her height, and he grumbled as he wrapped his arms around her and tucked her flush against him, his raised knees framing almost her entire body.

And he was completely unable to stop a purr from leaving him when she slid her arms around his neck and snuggled close, placing a kiss on his chest. "You forgive too easily."

She met his gaze when he looked down at her and smiled. "Are you still mad at me?"

"Yes," he grumbled. Though he suspected that nuzzling his face into her hair lessened the severity of his tone.

"Want me to make it up to you?"

He sighed, dipping his head to meet her gaze again. "It's sort of backwards for the one who did nothing wrong to apologize, isn't it, taisilee?"

A rather amused smirk tugged at her lips. "Not if we make it up to each other."

Grievous stared at her for a moment, then chuckled, shaking his head. "And you call me incorrigible," he murmured as he tugged her a little higher, brushing the lower part of his facemask across her forehead. Purring, he slid his lower hands under her shirt, plasteel talons tracing the curve of her spine. There was very little that would keep him from her when she looked at him like that. Armageddon, perhaps. "Not that I'm complaining, my taisilee."

"Better not," she teased, laughing when he growled and tickled her. Yelping, she tried, and almost succeeded, in wiggling out of his grasp, a shriek of laughter escaping her when he grabbed the waistband of her pants and yanked her back into his arms.

Chuckling, he caught her and pulled her flush against him. "Where do you think you're going?"

Kyra grinned, seeing the playful look in his eyes. Such a welcome change considering what he'd been like only half an hour ago. "Um, first one back to our room gets to be on top?"

His breath left him in a growl, hands fisting in her shirt. "Should I give you a head start?"

"Nah." Smirking, she sent a wave of warmth, love and lust into him, watching his eyes darken as he growled and tried to haul her onto his lap. Instead of giving in, she twisted away, her shirt ripping and letting her scramble out of his reach. "I'll just have to be sneaky."

He was on his feet an instant later, tossing the material aside as he chased her down the stairwell. A part of his mind marvelled at how she had pulled him out of his rage and drawn him into this playful mood, her laughter and the scent of her growing arousal leading him through the Citadel.

It occurred to him that he'd never shown her through this section of his Lair, and Grievous quickened his pace, easily catching up to her and swinging her up into his arms, his cloak flaring out behind him. His upper hands instantly sought out her bra encased breasts, lower arms curling around her waist to hold her close. "Isn't fair if you don't know where you're going," he rumbled into her ear, taking pleasure in how her breath caught in her throat when he nuzzled the side of her neck. "I'd be a bad mate if I took unfair advantage. Though it is rather.... tempting."

"Is it?" Kyra gasped when he backed her up against a wall, lifting her off her feet as he interspersed his thin hips between her thighs.

A low chuckle left him. "Oh, yes." He knew her well enough to know just how to touch her, kneading her breasts with practiced skill and purring when he felt her hands grip his shoulders. "Now, it's left, left, straight, right, straight. Got it?"

"L-Left, left, straight.... Mmm....."

Grievous stroked the curve of her throat. "If you keep making noises like that, we won't make it to our room," he warned huskily, rumbling when she stroked his chest, sending a pulse of warmth straight to his innards. Trembling, he forced himself to let her go, eyes tracking her hungrily when she stumbled a little, unbalanced by the sudden lack of support from his body. "You'd better run."

She shivered at the tone of his voice, meeting his burning gaze for an instant before she spun and bolted, hearing his low growl as he held himself back for a moment before tearing after her. One advantage she had was that she weighed a fraction of what he did, allowing her to dart around corners with greater ease. A quick glance behind her showed that Grievous merely sunk one taloned hand into the stone wall, swinging himself into the adjoining hallway.

The look he gave her when he spotted her glancing back at him was downright predatory, sending a shiver down her spine. Gods, did she even care who got to their room first anymore? And as she felt his hand teasingly slide across her bare back, she decided that, no, she really didn't.

Grievous must have sensed the change in her, because he overtook her a second later, burying his face in her hair as he hauled her into his arms and carried her the last few metres to their room. His breath was coming in rapid pants as he freed a hand to type in the proper code, growling when she lightly dragged her nails across his armored back and curled her legs around him.

He staggered through the doorway, blindly locking the door behind him as he headed deeper into their quarters, talons already ripping her bra and pants off her body before yanking his cloak off of his shoulders. Echoes of her pleasure were already resonating through him, nearly overwhelming him, and he hissed as he backed her up against the closet wall.

"Taisilee." He reintegrated his arms back into two, guiding her legs around him again before he returned his hands to her breasts, ducking his head to nuzzle his mask against her shoulder. Gentle talons plucked at her nipples, sensors drinking in her soft gasp as she arched towards him. Even now, she stunned him with the amount of trust she had in him. Especially after she had seen him at his worst.

"Grievous...." Her breath caught in her throat when he growled against her neck, the vibration from his vocalizer sending goosebumps across her skin. Shivering, she wound her arms around his neck, mewling when he dropped his hands to knead her buttocks, pulling her into the roll of his thin armorplast hips.

Another growl left him as he wrapped his arms around her, steadying her as he carried her across the room, face partially buried into her hair. Her hands gripped at his shoulders, and he murmured her name as she placed kisses across his masked face, each embrace accompanied by a fresh surge of pleasure. He stumbled the last few steps, splitting his left arm so he could reach into her dresser while still keeping hold of her.

Plasteel talons closed around the familiar form of the alloy sex-tool, purring to her as he slid his hand between them, the attachment clicking into place as he slid the terminal into the groove on his pelvic armor. A startled hiss left him as it logged into his neural net, the artifical sensation of blood pulsing in his cock momentarily stunning him.

Kyra's breath warmed the side of his mask, pulling a shiver from him before he shifted his grip to her waist, nuzzling his face against her neck as he positioned himself and buried himself in her with one smooth thrust. "K-Kyra!" He struggled to hold himself still, panting, snarling, as he met her gaze and reintegrated his left arms, rising his hand to stroke the delicate curve of her throat, closing his eyes with a groan when she playfully ducked her head to suckle on one of his fingers.

Murmuring Kaleesh endearments, he wrapped his free arm around her waist and rolled his hips into hers, sensors along his body going into overdrive when she moaned and pressed her lips against the base of his armor-plated throat. Hands clutched at his shoulders as she matched his rhythm, letting him push her back against the wall as he seperated his arms, the soft mewl she loosed nearly driving him over the edge.

Grievous' lower arms wrapped around her waist, one of his upper hands returning to her throat while the other stroked her cheek. Her thoughts brushed against his, always asking, never intruding, and he hungrily accepted the waves of pleasure that she sent to him. When she gasped out his name and arched her back, he hunched over her and nuzzled his masked face against her chest, drinking in the sound and scent of her, eyes fluttering closed as the pleasure drugged him.

It was when he felt her core start to spasm around him that he froze, growling and hissing at her when she cried out in frustration and fairly begged him to keep moving, trying to roll her hips against him when he held her still. "Not yet, taisilee," he murmured into her ear, purring when she whimpered. "I'm not done with you yet."

"Grievous, please. More." Kyra felt him waver, just a slight tremble, the tiniest little inhalation of breath, and she took advantage, smirking as she sent a pulse of warmth through him.

He shuddered, a strangled groan leaving him as he crushed her to him and bucked his pelvis against hers, hips churning as he drove himself into her. Her hands scrambled for a hold on him, and Grievous caught her wrists in his upper hands, pinning her arms above her head. She matched his rhythm once again, crying out as he helped her meet his thrusts, lower hands gripping her waist, his mind and body overwhelmed with pleasure.

Seconds before climax would have crashed through them both, the chirping of an opening comm line snapped his attention away from Kyra. "NOT NOW!" he roared ferally, barely managing to place a hand over Kyra's mouth to muffle her dismayed cry. Blast it all, he hadn't thought to secure his own built in communicators.

Undeterred, the voice of one of his Magna Droids filled the room, drowning out his own rapid breathing. "Count Dooku requests that you contact him immediately, sir."

Grievous cursed and leaned over Kyra to start banging his head against the wall.

The droid sounded perplexed by the loud thuds. "Sir? Are you--?"

"I'M. FINE." He slammed his skull against the wall a final time, then snarled. "I'll be there shortly." And then he savagely locked down every single comm line he had, even his silent internal ones.

Kyra looked like she was ready to throttle someone to death. "If you leave me--!"

He cut her off with a low, guttural, purr, and shook his head, nuzzling her cheek as he quickly resumed the delightful movement of his hips, taking pleasure in how she started to writhe against him once again. "I would never," he growled, clenching his eyes shut as he rushed them towards climax. "I'll make this up to you later, taisilee. But, I can't draw t-this ou-t-t any-- ohhh!"

His ability to manage coherent thought dissolved into low groans and snarls, hearing Kyra's own breathing hitch in her throat as she rocked against him, her blue gaze locking with his gold. He shifted his grip, raising his lower left hand to trace little patterns over her jugular, feeling the pulse against his fingers.

She was on the edge, Grievous could sense it, could feel it in the tension that sang through her, and he pushed her towards it, growling at her breathless cries. He snapped his pelvis to hers, his cock pulsing as if it was flesh, so sensitive to her own core that suddenly clenched down on him.

A triumphant howl ripped it's way out of him, drowning out her own cry as she shook against and around him, back arching, hair tumbling down across her back and shoulders. He released her wrists, upper hands scrambling at the wall he was pushing Kyra up against, taloned feet embedding themselves into the floor. The alloy sex tool felt so real, that he could almost feel his seed shooting into her depths, could almost delude himself that he'd be able to impregnate her.

Wheezing, he slumped against her, weakly bracing most of his weight on his upper arms as he leaned his masked face against her cheek and struggled to regain his breath. Kyra moaned thinly and rested her forehead on his right shoulder, little aftershocks pulling gasps from both of them as her inner muscles fluttered around him, triggering mini-climaxes that continued to surge through them.

"I-I know I don't say this very often," he murmured into her hair, wrapping all four shaking arms around her. "But, I do love you, my Kyra."

She leaned her head back to smile at him tiredly, deep blue eyes still dark with passion. "I love you, too, Grievous. And you do say it," she added, raising a trembling hand to brush her fingers just below his right eye, hearing his sigh as he nuzzled her palm. "Every time you call me your 'taisilee', I can sense it from you."

A weakened purr rumbled out of him as he brushed the lower part of his facemask across her lips, shivering when she rose both hands to caress the sensor panels on either side of his head. He let himself indulge in the sensations for a little bit, then sighed heavily and carried her over to their bed, trying very hard to ignore how he was still buried within her. "If it was anyone other than Dooku--"

"It's alright," Kyra told him, hearing his doubtful grunt as he nuzzled her throat before he gingerly slid out of her, both of them gasping at the sensation. The look in his eyes as he set her down onto the bed made her want to grab him and try to convince him to stay, but she held back, watching instead as he slid the alloy member free of his pelvic armor, his low moan doing nothing in helping her to keep herself from jumping him again.

"No, it isn't alright." Growling, he stomped over to the dresser and hid the sex tool once again, somewhat in better control of his body now that it was disconnected from his neural net. Though he still wanted nothing else than to curl up with her.

Instead, he snatched his cloak up off the floor where he had previously tossed it, and slung it back over his shoulders, securing the clasp before moving over to her. He hunched over her, crouching low so he could brush the lower part of his mask over her lips. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

#grievous fuckery #general grievous #star wars #star wars the clone wars #clone wars #grievous x oc #fanfiction #fanfic #smut #help me obi wan kenobi i wrote grievous smut #snarky is writing

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spectralarchers · 4 years

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"And, besides, it fits well with the headcanon I’ve had since forever that Clint remained under the influence of the Mind Stone well into the later movies..." - not an extract from your fics but PLEASE tell me everything about this because it FASCINATES me to no end

GLADLY.

I LOVE TALKING ABOUT THAT HEADCANON.

(And I do clutter my fics with it whenever I can, lol)

I may have misexplained, but the idea that Clint had the literal power of gods inside his head when the scepter touched his chest and took over his own willpower fascinates me, ESPECIALLY, considering the fact that we saw Erik Selvig run around naked at Stonehedge after the influence was broken.

Clearly, the influence of Loki and the Scepter had a longer lasting effect which did not end when Natasha bashed Clint’s head against the metal railing of the Helicarrier, and I’m dying to know exactly how fucked Clint’s head was after that.

We know from the prelude comics (Fury’s Big Week) that Loki chose Clint to be his general specifically because of Clint’s skills: Fury assigned Clint to look over the PEGASUS site specifically to keep an eye on Selvig, because Selvig was acting weird (remember how Loki possessed Selvig?):

Loki-as-Selvig overheard Clint and Coulson in the New Mexico desert, discussing other things and the influence of the Tesseract. So this brings me forth to the idea that Loki-as-Selvig was actually interested in Clint for several reasons, namely a) Fury’s trust in Clint to keep an eye on the situation with the Tesseract and b) Fury considers Clint the guard dog if things do go bonkers with the Tesseract.

So, if Loki had enough of an interest in Selvig to possess him until the portal across time and space was opened, then the interest in Clint was almost as intense: there’s a reason, I believe, for Loki to go specifically for Clint as the first one when he makes it to the Pegasus site in the Avengers-movie. It’s only when Clint holsters his gun that Loki actually begins to use the scepter on others near him, including Selvig and other security officers.

I don’t think we ever got any idea of how long Clint was under the scepter’s control, but I’d wager at least a couple of weeks - going by Selvig’s mad scientist beard at least. Besides, Loki is using Clint as his left hand and his general in everything: Clint, in the movie, has been the one to find SHIELD enemies to be their underground army, Clint is the one to figure out the plan to take down the Helicarrier, Clint is the one to help Loki get to the Tesseract and the Scepter, and it’s actually basically a miracle that Natasha managed to knock him back to his senses when she did, because otherwise the Helicarrier would’ve dropped from the sky and the world would’ve looked a lot different than it did.

Clint reacts to the scepter differently than Selvig does, Selvig says it showed him truth while it showed Clint his next target:

(It’s from a deleted scene).

So, when Clint comes back to his senses, he’s been:

a) under Loki’s influence for at least a couple of weeks,

b) working with all his might to do what Loki needed done

c) trying to keep SHIELD secrets (and personal secrets) from Loki as well.

I mean, at some point, Clint tells Loki that he’s not at his best with a gun (lmao, Clint, dear, your aim is perfect with whatever you pick up, this is a blatant LIE into the face of the one who’s mind controlling you). The headcanon is that the Mind Stone had gotten such a big grasp on Clint, that when Loki was kicked out of his head, Clint still retained some of the powers/influence of the stone inside his mind.

When Loki got kicked out, Clint has had a taste of the world beyond Earth: if Loki has shared his invasion plans with Clint (who is his general), then Clint has either seen or heard about the Chitauri and the rest of the universe, and knowing Loki’s willingness to use the cube and/or the scepter, it’s possible that Clint and Selvig were given access to more than just mind controlling powers.

Maybe a taste of the powers of the Infinity Stones?

I think that, when they were writing the Avengers, they hadn’t decided that the Scepter was an Infinity Stone yet (I remember being in fandom at the time, and it was a beehive headcanon that the Scepter’s powers came from the Tesseract, not because it contained a stone itself), so it made sense that, looking at it that way, Loki playing around with it not knowing its raw potential caused side effects inside of Clint’s, and Selvig’s mind.

My headcanon is further supported by the fact that Wanda and Pietro got their powers from repeated experiments performed on them with the Scepter - and although we don’t know what Strucker did to them for their powers to be revealing, I like the idea that Clint’s exposition to the Scepter’s powers caused something inside of him to change too.

Maybe he got attuned to the other infinity stones (maybe he could sense when Jane Foster was being a vessel for the Aether? Or when the Guardians used the Power Stone?), maybe he got a clearer idea of how the Universe was composed.

It’s been repeated time and time again both in the MCU and in the comics that Clint is a lot smarter than he lets on:

So, for my sake, I like to imagine that having been specifically chosen by Loki to be a general in his would be invasion of Earth on behalf of Thanos, Clint got something more out of the experience. Maybe he didn’t understand it until he saw Wanda Maximoff’s powers, maybe he didn’t understand it until he spoke with Helen Cho about how SHE reacted to the Scepter (Ultron is not Loki, and Ultron is a machine, vs Loki is a Frost Giant), but I like to think that he was at least slightly attuned to the response the stones have to each other.

Maybe the best way I can describe it is if Clint’s become Force sensitive to the other Infinity Stones because of his prolonged contact to the Tesseract and the Scepter, and thanks to it, he knows when something is acting weird.

(I have a VERY big headcanon that he’s got a grey burn scar on the middle of his chest where the Scepter touched him, like a third degree burn that’s scarred up with grey scar tissue, and that the scar hurts whenever the Stones are being used, but that’s just a headcanon of mine, although you will pry it from my cold, dead hands).

So, there you have it: Clint has been working through the influence of the mind stone ever since Natasha knocked him out cold on the Helicarrier, and he can still feel some things stirring inside his mind whenever the stones are activated.

#meta #clint barton #hawkeye #long post #picnokinesis #people ask christine stuff

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journeysintowebcomics · 5 years

Text

Homestuck Liveblog #186

UPDATE 186: Political Assassination

Last time John finally got that tooth off his chest, and Jake agreed to give his endorsement to Karkaroni. Now what will happen? Let’s see.

Has it been days since Jade has been sitting on that couch, levitating and with her eyes completely black? Given everything that has happened in the meantime it sure feels like it has. Roxy’s getting worried, she tried to call Rose but she didn’t respond, so instead he goes for the next option she has: Dave. Who immediately brags about working to stop Jane from screwing up everything. The words ‘neoliberal austerity measures’ are unsaid but they’re like an echo when Dave talks about the presidential campaign, I bet. He’s busy handling Jake’s endorsement speech.

ROXY: i guess in the grand scheme of things

ROXY: shes just takin a sort of nap

ROXY: but its one HELL of a nap bro

‘one hell of a nap, davey, shes been blacked out for, like, a week’

It seems the troll candidate is more popular with the trolls and the carapacians than with the humans and consorts. How don’t they have more consort supporters? Hopefully Jake’s endorsement will change that.

ROXY: lmao dirk just texted me about this

ROXY: somehow he found out about jade did u tell him

DAVE: uh no

ROXY: he just said make sure she gets lotsa daylight

ROXY: that itll help with the “exorcism she needs”.....

ROXY: and also to say hi to calliope for some fuckin reason??

DAVE: thats weird

Well that makes clear what the best course of action is: don’t open the windows nor place her anywhere in the daylight. If Dirk’s advice will help with the exorcism she needs – to get Dead Calliope out – then it’s a bad idea. I’m enjoying this epilogue much more with Dead Calliope controlling the narrative, thanks.

It’s alarming Kanaya isn’t picking up either. Could Dirk have gotten rid of her? I sure hope not! Kanaya has done nothing wrong and deserves to stay alive, what with being the professional when it’s about troll reproduction. She better still be fine and kicking!

DAVE: i gotta give karkat some emotional support

DAVE: since gettin jake on our side was a pretty huge fucking bonanza for us

DAVE: which has almost equal probability of winning us the election as it does blowing up in our faces depending on this speech he gives

DAVE: so we gotta like

DAVE: concentrate here?????

DAVE: instead of jerking each other off all god damned day for the rest of our lives

DAVE: (im just joking we dont actually do that)

ROXY: oh

They don’t do that, much to Jade’s disappointment, I bet. Either way, it’s speech time!

The struggle to take control of the narrative is a petty squabble, says Dirk, taking the high ground by offering Dead Calliope a way out. Buddy, pal, friend, you can’t take the high ground and then insinuate Calliope is ugly as sin. That is petty.

Apparently everybody thinks Dave loves Karkaroni, and although I believe that too, it’s fine if Dave never comes to terms to that. The guy marches at the beat of his own drum, he’ll be fine. This kind of thing can’t be forced on him. Speaking of things that can’t be forced, Roxy wants to know how Dave came out to everyone else as not straight. Oh dear, Roxy, I don’t think Dave ever did that. You’re asking the wrong person – unless you want the answer to be ‘deny it for like eight years now’.

He’s not really denying it right now, though. Maybe he did come out to the others and I didn’t find out until now. He’s not comfortable enough with rapping about ‘boning dudes’ in middle of a stadium where so many people can see him, but he’s not running away from the question. Way to go, Dave! I approve character growth!

Somehow Dave has this entire spiel about all the steps of admitting not being straight. On what phase are you, Dave? Inquiring minds want to know. I’d paste the entire thing here, because it’s pretty good stuff, but it’d feel like I’m applying filler for the sake of applying filler, so I won’t.

Dirk really doesn’t want a conversation about gender. Personally I have to agree because, even though this is great for development and I appreciate all of Dave’s steps, this is kind of a random place to shove this in. Pretty bad place, really. It’d have been great at a different moment.

Horrendously invasive of Roxy’s deepest personal thoughts.

...uh, Dirk, you know what else is horrendously invasive? Taking over the narration and manipulating people around. Also the assimilation plan, that’s more than horrendously invasive.

Okay, this is going for long enough.

DIRK: Do you even know where I am right now?

DIRK: Do you have the slightest idea what I’m up to?

the prince is laboring under the delusion that he has been the least bit subtle in his intentions. he currently stands beneath the carapacian bell tower, poised to climb to the top. he holds the long, red sniper rifle that once belonged to roxy, brandishing it openly and boldly. he seems mysteriously oblivious to the fact that holding a long rifle in broad daylight somewhat tips one to the fact that he soon intends to shoot someone from a great distance. he also seems unaware of the fact that i know perfectly well that the top of this tower has a clear, long-range view of the stadium, allowing any competent sniper a clear shot of whoever happens to be standing at the podium as they give a speech. as jake english is about to do.

he also doesn’t seem to realize i have anticipated his attempt to assassinate his own friend in order to advance his political goals, and that i am prepared to take measures which make this impossible.

It really sounds like Dirk’s getting ready to shoot, he’s up at the right place and has a view of the stadium where Jake will be, but...I don’t know, ever since Roxy said Dirk messaged her about keeping Jade in the sunlight for ‘an exorcism’ I have been feeling uneasy, and now that this all was said just now, well, I kind of suspect Dirk may try to shoot and kill Jade. It sure would free her of Dead Calliope’s control and possibly give him back the control of the narrative. It’s a possibility, no?

Somehow the next few paragraphs resembles a schoolyard roleplaying fight. ‘You can’t reach the top of the stairs because...your feet feel really heavy’ ‘really? Then I can fly’ ‘and then the bell came crashing down on you!’ ‘I cut that stupid bell with my sword!’ ‘not fair!’ ‘yes fair!’. It’s endearing in its own way.

DIRK: He wonders out loud, “what is this, amateur hour”?

DIRK: The Dead Cherub then humorlessly narrates, “why, yes. yes mr. strider, it IS amateur hour. and i’m the amateur here, for throwing a huge bell at you. i would like to humbly apologize for my amateurism.”

no i don’t.

DIRK: Sure you do.

I’m having fun with this part, guys, I really am! This is great.

This is over when Dead Calliope, trying to stop the focus on Dirk and his increasingly petty narration, turns the attention back to Dave who must still be explaining to Roxy the intricacies of coming out to their friends. I see keeping a show in a standstill is a Strider family trait.

DAVE: well lets just say internalized whatevers are kind of like an onion

DAVE: theres lots of layers

DAVE: they suck on pizza

DAVE: and trolls have to get their stomach pumped if they eat them

That has got to be the most contrived simile Dave has said in recent history.

Dirk continues saying very clearly he’s about to shoot Jake, and the more he states that so bluntly the more I suspect there’s something else going on.

‘Xenophobe’ and related words are starting to stop looking like a real word. It just has been said so many times.

Everything is making Dave feel like something’s wrong – undoubtedly Dead Calliope’s influence – so he gets in the path of any potential bullets, protecting Jake with his own body.

and despite dave’s quick and well-justified action, what is also unbeknownst to him is that the sniper no longer poses a threat of pulling that trigger. because everyone knows that for all of the prince’s shortcomings, he would never expose his beloved brother and son to the risk of a heroic death.

DIRK: You’re absolutely right.

DIRK: I would never do that.

DIRK: I’d never kill Dave, no matter what I felt the stakes were. I’d never hurt him either.

I’m pretty willing to bet taking over Dave’s self doesn’t count as killing or hurting him, therefore it’s fair game. Dave would be pretty unhappy to know what Dirk’s doing, anyway. The narrative reveals what’s in the sniper rifle are not bullets, they’re tranquilizers. It’d be a non-fatal way of keeping someone out of the way for a while. The second thing Dead Calliope got wrong, though...

DIRK: Yes. You’re right about the tranquilizer.

DIRK: But there’s one more fact you’re not aware of.

DIRK: Which is that I never intended to aim for Jake at all.

Well then! Turns out I may have been right about that he intends to shoot Jade. He must feel really confident about it if he can announce it aloud after aaaall the charades he did to fool Dead Calliope. Is it Jade, Dirk? Will you tranquilize Jade and pretty much put her to sleep – non-fatally?

Dirk spins in what must be the tiniest bell tower ever, given he only has to spin to change direction and be able to aim somewhere else, and gets ready to shoot. All Dead Calliope can do is freeze Dirk’s finger on the trigger, but he thought ahead and made the rifle to be voice-operated. All he has to do is say ‘fire’. Which he does! Game over for Dead Calliope?

Pretty good aim, hitting a vein from all this distance. Jade indeed has gotten tranquilized, and I’m pretty sure given this isn’t the first time Dirk uses tranquilizers – he uses them in TV – it shouldn’t be too hard for anyone to realize this is Dirk’s orangey shady hand making the moves.

The insult against Jade is uncalled for, Dirk. But yeah, the result of all this is that Dirk is once again back in control of the narrative, which makes me sigh with exasperation. I really liked Dead Calliope’s narration more than Dirk’s, so I’m not looking forward to this change.

Roxy drops to her knees by the couch, pulls the dart out of Jade’s neck, and tries to shake her awake. But it’s no use. That’s a heavy dose I gave her. Could be out for weeks. Maybe months? Can’t have any cherubs messing with my business on this planet. At least not until I’ve taken my leave. But Jade’s gonna be fine. Don’t worry about that.

So...she’s pretty much in a coma. Could be worse, could be worse. She could be dead. This is barely better.

Cherubs are fuckin’ weird, I’ll totally concede. Still not sure what makes them tick. What they idealize, what they really want. It all comes across to me as a little cloying. Perfection to them is a sweetness beyond comprehension. Sugar so potent it’s poison to us. To our bodies, to our souls. Like the place she was operating from was a realm of self-construction. A bubble of pure, phantasmal confection.

Well, I for one have had enough of that goddamn toothache. I’m back in the protein saddle, motherfuckers. I’m clacking my tongs, and the charcoal is hot.

Now who’s hungry for meat?

Does that mean the candy epilogue is all Dead Calliope’s influence seeping through instead of Dirk’s? It could be interesting to see what kind of thing she does to the world. Although...given the effects of the trickster lollipop and how ‘sweetness beyond comprehension’ is perfection to them, it’s bound to be nightmarish. I’m actually looking forward to that!

Speaking of meat, holy shit. You just look more fucked up every time we come back to you, don’t you, John?

You’re a disgraceful mess right now. Covered in blood, mysteriously sticky, bruised all over your arms, legs, and neck. Terezi practically raked rows into your back. You catch sight of yourself in the rearview mirror. You’re kind of embarrassed by what a postcoital train wreck you look like when all she’s got is mussed hair. And you should be embarrassed. Seriously, it’s like you were mauled by a wild animal. Jesus, don’t either of you have any shame?

Ah. Okay then, good for them, although I’m pretty concerned. Such a physically intensive activity can’t be good for the guy with a gaping hole in the chest and the troll who still must be half-starved. I won’t be surprised if these two just pass out and die anytime soon. I’m not entirely sure, but it seems things are awkward now between these two. Maybe it was all a spur-of-the-moment move.

You sit together on the hatch, like when you first met up days ago. Terezi crawls into your arms, and nuzzles right up against your chest so you have no choice but to hold on to her. You would have done it anyway if she asked, because you’re a total sap. The kind of guy who no doubt thinks banging a girl in a car is some deep, soul-shattering experience that bonds you for life. Yeah, John, you do think that. You think that you and Terezi are basically married now.

I can’t tell if he really thinks that or if Dirk’s funneling those thoughts into him. The line between what the character feels and what Dirk wants them to feel is pretty blurry by now.

After all this, Terezi gives up on looking for Vriska, so this is a prime moment for her to fly by and find them. She doesn’t, though, and John proposes Terezi to go home with him. Can they even go home? John is so tired it’s possible they can’t – which he really should have thought about before doing said physically intensive activity. Nobody to blame but yourself, John. Seriously, you have an open wound and bled like four liters of blood. You’re as good as dead.

He feels the urge to lie down and sleep, which is a pretty bad idea given the situation. Terezi rouses him up, so instead he decides to give this a try and zap back home. Hmmmm...if he’s so tired right now, it’s possible the act of zapping home will drain whatever energy he has left, so I’m not...very optimistic about John’s chances of survival. Would this count as a heroic death? Can you die from a heroic death if you die like two weeks after the offending injury is made? If he dies from exertion after having sex with Terezi that doesn’t count as a death because having sex with Terezi is neither heroic nor just, no? Oh well.

Back in the stadium, the inexistent assassination attempt may have given Karkaroni a push in the polls, and Dirk spends quite a while brandishing Jake like a piece of meat. Really, can he be treated as more than a flat character whose only non-flat trait is his posterior? Jake’s nervous and fidgets around, so much Dave and Karkaroni show concern and offer to cancel the speech and/or the campaign. It seems our favorite presidential troll still doesn’t like the idea of having leadership, he’s ready to throw the towel anytime. Jake insists he can do it, so he starts!

I don’t remember Dirk being so outright antagonistic in Homestuck. It’s making me pretty uncomfortable, I have to admit. It feels kind of out of nowhere, just like Jane’s sudden xenophobic inclinations are. What was Hussie thinking when he wrote all this? What was his intention?

Jake’s getting pretty nervous and I can’t tell if he’s getting stage fright or if Dirk’s influencing him to be nervous. The latter is a possibility, no? Wouldn’t be surprised if that’s what’s going on.

Why don’t you have a good, long think about that, Jake.

Is this really the time for a good, long think? Jake muses to himself, actually putting a finger to his chin like some public domain clip art picture of a befuddled guy. If the crowd is confused by his rapid-cycle mood changes, they don’t show it. Jake’s got a bit of a day-drinking problem, which has been slavishly documented in the global tabloids. That’s how you avoid responsibility, isn’t it, Jake? You can fool your fans, but not yourself. The truth is that there’s a canniness to the act. It’s partially cultivated. You’re stupid, but you’re not nearly as stupid as you pretend to be.

JAKE: What in the devil was i thinking coming here?

JAKE: Why did I...?

JAKE: I came here to...

... slide the biggest knife any motherfucker ever wielded directly into your friend Jane Crocker’s back?

She loves you, Jake, more than anything, and you toyed with her heart. And you would have guiltlessly toyed with her “kettle drums” too had it not been for a bit of divine intervention, let’s decide to call it.

Sigh. That’s...that’s all I can do with all this. Sigh and keep reading. Third time I’m scrolling through the epilogue a tad faster than I should. It’s pretty much an entire page of gaslighting. Nothing really worth delving into, mainly because it’s pretty uncomfortable to read such a thing. Dirk’s being the abusive ex, pretty much. Nothing really worthwhile.

JAKE: I love dirk!

JAKE: IM IN *LOVE* WITH DIRK!!!

And to love Dirk is to obey him.

You know, there are a few reasons why I’m thinking of liveblogging these epilogues. I’ll explain them later, but right now I may as well say a word of two: the epilogue is competently written. The events in it are interesting, and the interactions are raw and full of emotion. It’s all pretty unpleasant to read, which makes it a bit novel, like swallowing bitter medicine. It’s pretty good, in a technical way.

But it simply doesn’t work with Homestuck characters. It just doesn’t.

Anyway, let’s continue scrolling down to the end of the page and go to the next.

I was right in that zapping back to Earth C would take what was left of John’s energy. He barely can give three steps before he falls down, so it’s all up to Terezi now. She wants to bring John to Jane, so she can revive him. I don’t think she has revived him before, so it should be a good idea. It’d be better to bring Jane to John, though.

It doesn’t matter. This isn’t a wound you can recover from. It’s Game Over this time: no healing, no afterlife, no cosmic clock proclaiming your sacrifice as Heroic. The poison needling through you is antithetical to narrative relevance. You’re not dying, John. You’re being erased. Cherubs don’t fuck around. We’ve both been learning that the hard way.

Oh, nevermind, it’s something not even Jane with her life powers can fix. I wonder if, once John is erased, nobody will remember him. That’s what happens when there’s no place for you in a narrative, no? Hmmm...

John already know he’s irreversibly going to die, and tells Terezi not to waste her time, that he was dead the moment Lord English bit him. Which is true, given this poison. Then he says he was dead the moment he woke up that morning, which...I suppose is the depression talking.

You died the moment you made the decision to go meet your destiny. You would have lived if you made the other decision, under a certain definition of the word “living.” You might have even lived until the end of your immortal life span, as shitty as that sounds.

So he’d have lived for the rest of his life if he had decided to do nothing. Makes sense. This may have been for the better, given Lord English needed to be defeated, so it’s time well-spent. It’s rather unfortunate it involves John’s death, but...in a way I saw this coming. Pretty tragic outcome, and given this epilogue has been chock-filled with a lot of tragedy and pessimistic scenarios, it only made sense this would happen.

It’s dying words time! Terezi is really affected because she really cares for John, and also they had a ‘emotionally significant sexual encounter’, so she’s even willing to listen to all the sappy stuff John will say in his deathbed. This is bound to be rather emotional! And the fact he can’t even think of something appropriate to say in his final moments is what makes it emotional because this isn’t how he imagined this would go. He can’t even think of quotes from his movies. Terezi offers to tell everyone John Egbert said some cool stuff in his final moments and make everybody believe it somehow, so instead John goes straight towards the sappy and tragic. There he goes!

JOHN: i think... i really lo—

TEREZI: DONT YOU D4R3

JOHN: i... r-really lov—

TEREZI: DONT YOU D4R3 FUCK1NG D13 ON M3 1N TH3 M1DDL3 OF 4 LOV3 CONF3SS1ON!

TEREZI: 1 FORB1D 1T!!!

JOHN: but... i...

JOHN: i...

Then John dies in the middle of a love confession.

Love confession on the deathbed! It’s like this truly came from a movie, haha. Terezi is devastated, so much she can’t even bring herself to cry properly. Once she confirms he’s dead, she ponders what she should do now, alone in the world John wanted to bring her to. She doesn’t have anything else to do, so after a moment – and at Dirk’s behest – she takes John’s corpse in Dad Egbert’s wallet and starts walking.

It has been a month already. Jane won the election after what I figure was Jake’s endorsement speech for her, so that’s that. Terezi has been rather lost this whole month, and nobody has seen John Egbert – instead of saying he’s dead -- so I suppose she hasn’t told anyone he’s dead. Rose has been missing the entire time and Kanaya has been pushed around by Dirk’s machinations to keep him distracted while he keeps Rose locked away somewhere, both mentally and physically, I figure. All in all, it’s a pretty grim outlook for everybody in Homestuck. Also, Jade is still in coma. Terezi goes to visit her, perhaps to tell her what happened to John?

Dirk continues being so salty Roxy’s experimenting with her gender, apparently. Aren’t there a million other things to deal with, pal?

Roxy is very glad to see Terezi, and she takes Terezi thinking she’s Dave as a compliment. She also compliments Terezi, giving her some heartache because it makes her remember the time she spent with John. It may have been a few hours, apparently. Time works in mysterious ways up there in paradox space!

The reason Terezi is here is because she feels John would come here, and she’s right, I bet. John would want to check on Jade as much as he can, so now that she’s carrying John’s cadaver around, she feels she should handle this all herself. It’s also confirmed she hasn’t told anyone John is dead.

ROXY: back when jade first got all effed up callie saw somethin and it made them freak out

ROXY: it took me weeks to convince them that it was safe to come home

ROXY: but now we got the opposite problem and they arent leavin the house at all

ROXY: they stay home all day with the blinds drawn paintin some weird ass shit on the walls

TEREZI: WH4T?

ROXY: its not as bad as it sounds i promise

ROXY: some of it is like

ROXY: weird and violent??

ROXY: like lotsa nasty purple blood and um

ROXY: nudity????

TEREZI: >:?

ROXY: yeah yikes

ROXY: but MOST of it is cute stuff like... various combos of all of us being happy and gettin married and shit

ROXY: anyway thats kept callie kinda busy

ROXY: so it was hard as hell to convince them to let me come see jade at all

ROXY: its like theyre traumatized

ROXY: and they think ill drag whatever possessed jade back into our home with me

So the end result for Calliope is that she’s traumatized. Seeing a dead version of herself possessing Jade must have really rattled her. As I said, this is all pretty grim for everyone in Homestuck, goodness. Although...part of me wonders if her current state is partly because of Dirk’s influence. He’s petty enough to mess with the living Calliope’s head as a ‘take that’ for Dead Calliope.

Someone tries to contact Terezi through her phone, she’s not sure who it’d be. Perhaps Dirk? He did show a preference to sending messages to his former friends and acquaintances. As if things weren’t awkward enough for Terezi, she’s asked if she knows what happened to John. Terezi, you can’t keep this under wraps forever. Sooner or later you have to tell everyone John died because of injuries in Lord English’s fight.

It seems Terezi can hear Dirk perfectly even when he’s talking in the narration, I suppose it’s because of her aspect. Oh, be careful with the stuff you say, Dirk! She’s also willing to whisper stuff to address Dirk, even if it gets odd looks from other people. On the other hand, this kind of leaves her more vulnerable to Dirk’s machinations, no? Part of manipulating people is responding to what they say, so with some luck this won’t go belly-up.

Once the conversation is over Roxy leaves and Dirk exposits Terezi still feels guilty about hiding John’s death from everyone, and she can’t even confide in Dave because of mistakes she did as a teenager in another timeline. It’s the curse of having the Mind aspect, isn’t it? Knowing what the choices cause. All of Dirk’s exposition bothers Terezi enough for her to tell him to scram, and he refuses to do so.

Come on, Terezi. You don’t belong here. You know you don’t belong here.

Do you feel threatened by Terezi, Dirk? Is that why you’re trying to push her away? I don’t think Terezi has anything that could be particularly useful against Dirk’s plans, so I’m not sure why he’s bothering to mess with her like this. She even points out they barely have crossed words.

Okay, I believe he feels threatened by her in some manner because he tries to convince her to join him in...some place. More like he wants her out of Earth C. He even offers to let her take John with her, which is why I’m sure he made her pick up the corpse, so he could manipulate her by using John. He finally leaves her alone with her thoughts, sure he managed to convince her enough. We’ll see.

Stopping for now!

Next time: next update

#homestuck #homestuck liveblog #webcomics #liveblog #webcomic liveblog

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flyswhumpcenter · 5 years

Text

Bad Things Happen Bingo! The event where you send me I give myself self-indulgent requests according to this marvelous card!

RIP dividing lines, you were a gift I didn’t realize I deeply needed until this hellsite got rid of you. You’ll forever be missed.

I don’t really know why my brain decided that tonight I’d write Arc-V fanfiction in 2019 of all things, but it’s here, it’s weird, it’s shabby and it was fun. I’ve been obsessed with that one part of the first season so it was bound to happen lmao. I hope you enjoy my take on local edge boi Shun.

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Dyspnea

Summary: It hurts to breathe, it hurts to move; but the lone soldier can only move on and sustain the pain, because nobody is here to support him through the hardships of war.

Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh! Arc-V

Wordcount: 1.3K words

Event hosted by @badthingshappenbingo

AO3 version available here.

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Fucking hell did it hurt to even move.

Once upon a time, what felt like forever ago, he’d have been able to endure that without pushing on his resources this badly. He’d have probably gotten an x-ray, would have been told to stay still for a while, and it’d have been just fine. Perhaps he’d have even gotten a small surgery to complete the process.

But this was then and now was now: he was alone, a stranger in a strange world, only able to rely on himself despite the dire situation he had found himself in.

That Fusion bastard’s twisted face hadn’t been enough, apparently. Watching his fellow Raid Raptors, his only real companions when Ruri was gone and Yuto was nowhere to be found, get beheaded right in front of his then-trembling body, hearing their cries for help and Shiunin’s mad laughter resonate through the stone building, had only been a part of what seemed to be his punishment for what they called “extreme, excessive, desperate measures”. He didn’t know how to judge that himself: that was just how he did things, as effectively as possible without losing never-enough time to any bullshit like “trying to reason the enemy”. There was no reasoning to be had on the battlefield.

It wasn’t just about public humiliation. He didn’t care for that: other people’s judgements were only a potential loss of time and thoughts. It also wasn’t simply a matter of honour: his had already gone into ashes when the invasion had begun, when he had let his own sister disappear from his sight never to be seen again. He had everything to plead forgiveness for aside from his ways and goals. But forgiveness was absent from the battlefield, so he was supposed to continue on without giving others much thought. Revenge was all that mattered. Revenge, revenge, revenge.

No, instead, Shun had a much bigger issue to deal with right at this moment that wasn’t about judgement, the others, or his pride. The shockwave from his crushing defeat had made him exit the building in the least gracious way he could have gone through with that: flying out of there, then hurling down a flight of stairs, a bolt of pain hitting each and every time his chest hit the stone until there were no more steps to break his bones against.

He didn’t escape the fall unscathed.

He was used to getting a beating and getting up back from it. Bruises didn’t mean anything anymore as he didn’t let them hurt him for more than the moment he’d discover them. Cuts weren’t deeper than you wanted them to be. Injuries didn’t mean much if they didn’t carry any weight, any message to them, like scars whose story had been forgotten.

Yet, getting up from that had been arduous, if not unbearable. The shame wasn’t the only thing weighting on his shoulder and keeping his knees under a lock: there was the pain, the blinding, torturous, horrid pain shooting through his chest as soon as he attempted to get up and continue on. It was unlike anything he had suffered from before, even with all things considered and all mishaps that had happened taken in account.

It hurt to do anything. It hurt to move, it hurt to think, it hurt to get up, it hurt to even breathe.

And yet, all he could do was rise on his feet and flee. Run away and fight against other people for his sister’s freedom, his friend’s safety and his dimension’s honour. Like a soldier, he had to act without thinking of himself much, just execute the orders he knew were right. If he stopped moving to think, he’d feel his pain, he’d let his knees buckle under its force, he’d let himself be vulnerable; and he couldn’t let that happen in any circumstance. There was no hope, no salvation for the lone soldier that succumbed to his wounds.

So Shun kept pressing; or, at least, attempted to.

It took him ages, painfully long seconds to even get up from his fall. The beating had been this harsh: he was unable to speak, unable to really breathe in or out, clutching his ribs in an attempt to control the dolour pulsing through them. There was this girl – maybe her name was Serena, or Hiiragi, he forgot to follow and his memories were stained by the pain – and she was trying to help him. He didn’t know why, he didn’t think twice: he took the hand and forgot he had done so right afterwards, preferring to see it as an act of survival rather than a doing of need for assistance.

He was alone, all alone, and he just had trusted someone because he couldn’t do otherwise. Pathetic.

Running was difficult, more than he’d have ever anticipated. He was now certain he had broken his ribs, not just fractured them: they seemed to slightly move as he ran from that Fusion freak, pulses of pain ringing through his chest every time he took a step, walked or run, threatening to pierce his lung and make him lose all breathing altogether. He couldn’t let that happen to him, but did he have a solution aside from running away from imminent danger despite his injuries? No.

So he’d keep running until he ran out of air, until something would go horribly wrong; because things had already gone sour for him and all he had left was the slim hope that he’d get out of there, exhausted and suffering, but alive and able to still do something. He’d go to the end, he’d press on until he’d be dead; and if his demise was now, then so be it, because it seemed like things wouldn’t get any better from there.

And yet, despite being a lone soldier with a heart of stone and lacking any polish, people had come to his aid.

It had started with Serena (her name was Serena; he was surer of that now). For some reason outside of his mind, she had decided he’d be worth helping despite them being on opposite sides of the war (she was from Fusion, right? That freak had been surprised to see her bust out a Fusion Duel Disk). Was he grateful for her helping hand? He wished he could have said no, but he knew he was at least somewhat glad to have had that to get him out of there. Maybe “glad” wasn’t the right word.

Then there were this pair of ninja brothers, stopping Shiunin in his tracks and allowing Serena and him to continue fleeing from danger. They seemed to have mostly wanted to help her out, and he just happened to slow her down considerably (damn fractures…), even if he was starting to doubt this judgement. Maybe. When he’d have time to breathe, he’d consider revising it for more than a single afterthought, a little thing that had popped in his mind along the lines of “maybe they did pay attention to the other guy with her”. He didn’t have time of the day to do more than that.

His ribs still hurt tremendously, if not more and more as time went on, when three masked soldiers corned the three of them in the Volcano Area. Yet, because it was only fair to do so, he swore he’d protect the one who had helped him out, putting a hand before Serena, fully intending to fight at full volume despite the difficulty to breathe and think entirely clear. He wouldn’t be able to call himself a last man standing for this battle, nor a lone soldier. Other casualties weren’t needed, so he’d make it quick, sharp and to-the-point. He’d defeat them all and avoid more victims to fall in their claws.

It hurt to breathe; but perhaps it hurt less than watching people lose themselves to a war they didn’t comprehend.

#bad things happen bingo #yu-gi-oh arc-v #arc-v #shun kurosaki #injury #broken ribs #Hurt no comfort #bthb 1

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dirtywrat · 4 years

Text

Wrote a new scene, made some tweaks. Writing dialogue is the hardest fucking thing in the world to me so idk how I feel about it lmao. :3

.X.

Eriibeus’ personal research log, 412.89AU

The people of Rolveon IV are currently undergoing what could be considered an equivalent to an early middle ages, characterized by trifling king and queendoms or small city-states constantly at war with one another for the sake of territorial dominance, as well as a general lack of record-keeping or cultural output. Their current timeline is marked as following the invasion and subsequent defeat of the Obrox armies around 230-sum years prior. They are primarily a feudal society, separated into peasants, nobles, clergy, and those whose status is granted to them by the Gods, and their overall worldview is highly theistic. They have yet to conceptualize most scientific studies; their observations of the natural world are often explained via religious texts, known amongst the population as “The Sacred Codices”, and those within the clergy are often the most highly educated. They do have words for several basic sciences, such as astronomy and/or astrology (often used interchangeably), alchemy, and anatomy, among a few other protosciences, but they appear to think of these subjects as being completely dissimilar to one another, totally uncorrelated. Unfortunately, the majority of the advancements made by the Rolveon ancients seem to have vanished. Scientific documents kept by the Obroxian Empire were either lost during the invasions or destroyed afterwards for being “Obrox heresy”.

Though still a largely god-fearing people, the Obrox invasions somewhat forced the Rolveon people to make changes in their societal lives. When neighboring domains found themselves confronted with Obrox armies, a need arose to form civilian militias to defend their lands, and a shortage of men meant that it was necessary to have women to work and fight on the frontlines, as well. Although it is obvious that women are still primarily domestic workers, it is not uncommon to witness a female soldier, or physician, or clergy member.

Unfortunately, they seem to be a rather petulant people, waging wars of aggression against neighboring domains, or initiating conflict with their fellow Rolveon with little to no consideration put before their impulse. Despite this, or perhaps because of it, they take the practice of medicine and study of anatomy extremely seriously, as evident by their extensive medical logs, which is even more noteworthy considering their lack of any record-keeping at all. Physicians are often clergy members, and are more often than not the local monarch’s head advisor. The increased need for medical knowledge seemed to have developed around the time of the Obrox invasions and has been on a steady incline of progress ever since. It is this medical prowess which is my reason for being here.

Word of their innovations (though primitive by any modern standards) has spread quickly among the niche biology forums I subscribe to online and I have found myself intrigued enough to spend mine and Kathria’s downtime interacting with their people and studying them directly, rather than from a standard observation post. Their practices are not perfect and they still have much to learn. Hygiene, for example, is frequently overlooked. I inadvertently instilled into them the idea of washing your hands before contact with patient, a concept which was before unheard of to them but they now actively implement into their daily lives. Often times, they are far from accurate as well, considering they still place much of their reliance on their Gods or unseen forces which they cannot control. But regardless, they work with surprisingly sophisticated models for surgery, alchemy, and treatment of illness. I’ve done my research and no documentation of any known advanced civilization having visited Rolveon VII in the past exists, so I am left to believe that these are their own unassisted discoveries, which I greatly admire.

I have been accepted to serve as an apprentice under the personal physician of King Acruxum of Okuil, a relatively poor and unknown kingdom which mostly serves as a stopping point for travelers between two adjacent, higher-profile domains. I figured this would be helpful in my attempt to remain off the Rolveon radar. I have disguised myself as one of their people using a basic holograph program which I made alterations to myself to ensure a more natural look and higher stability. It would surely be awkward should the programming fail while I am surrounded by Rolveons. I claim that I am from a made-up city-state very far south of Okuil. In order to be accepted for apprenticeship, I was required to undergo an exam. It was very similar to my primary school biology entrance exam: there were many inquiries about basic medical and anatomical subjects, as well as a literacy evaluation. Needless to say, I passed. I was also required to swear an oath that I would devote my practices to serve the Holy Trinity (in The Sacred Codices, the Holy Trinity refers to the father, the mother, and the child of the two, who together created the universe), but I have no intention of holding true to that pledge.

Kathria has expressed to me her concern with this mission of mine, claiming that it has potential to interfere with the natural development of these people, and is thus immoral. I disagree, as my intention is not to interfere, but to strictly observe. Aside from teaching them the importance of washing your hands, I have made no significant impact on anyone that I have interacted with thus far. My apprenticeship begins tomorrow, and I am eager to bear witness to their fascinating practices first-hand.

.X.

“Should I waste my breath a final time by telling you not to do this, or will you simply ignore my words again?” Kathria asked sarcastically as Eriibeus made some final adjustments at the teleporter control panel. Accuracy was always a necessity when utilizing this device, but for these purposes it was of even greater importance to ensure that he be transported far from civilization, lest the religiously minded people of Rolveon IV witness his sudden manifestation.

He flattened his antennae, thoughtful. Not in rethinking his mission, of course, but rather searching his mushroom bodies for a new response to this argument they had already had countless times since their arrival into orbit. “Kathria, please, it will be okay. I have already told you that I will be there to observe, nothing more. I’ve taken the precautions needed to secure an unsuspecting infiltration. They will be none the wiser of my presence.” He paused. “Even if things should go wrong and they discover I am not one of them, the Rolveons wouldn’t understand the things I could show them, anyways. It will all be boiled down to mere religious superstitions.”

She scoffed, folding her arms in an obvious display of contempt. “And that is any better?” Her frustration was reaching its hilt. “Eriibeus, these people are merely primitive; no different than either of us could have been only a few millennia ago. They are a young people but they are not stupid. They could very easily be taught the significance of our technology if given the time.”

“Well, then I will not give them the time. I will leave immediately should things go poorly.”

Kathria shook her head, unable to understand how a member of a species dubbed the most brilliant minds of the modern galaxy could not see what a terrible idea this was. “You’ve already done more than you realize. During your entrance exam, they took note of you washing your hands before touching anyone and now implement that practice into theirs. That is a significant advancement, possibly pushing their development ahead by an entire generation at least! Any amount of knowledge that you instill into the minds of these people is completely unethical.”

With a few final tunings, the teleporter was ready for transport, coordinates set for several miles outside of Okuil in the sparsely populated countryside. He would have to walk the main path some distance before reaching the kingdom, but patrolling forces traveled the road frequently and ensured security even outside of civilization.

He touched the screen once more to power up the clear tube stationed across from him. Its design was minimalist: a chamber large enough for a single target, and a thin pad lining its base where the dematerialization would take place. It was constructed from a transparent aluminum, giving the structure the appearance of being crafted out of glass. Once activated, its door glided open in a circular motion to conform to the device’s frame, any seams between individual components of the machine completely unrecognizable. These were the intricate and arcane designs of his people, the Phosnoi.

Eriibeus stepped inside and Kathria followed him as he positioned himself on the center of the pad.

“I realize that no laws exist which prohibit independent researchers from interfering with primitive peoples, but even if the blatant disregard for their cultural integrity doesn’t bother you, you are putting your own safety and the safety of the citizens of Okuil at risk. What should happen if you find yourself in a situation you can’t merely walk out of?”

Eriibeus’ antennae twitched and he blinked. “You believe that the Rolveons are capable of harming me?”

“You’ve stated in your notes that while highly intelligent people, they are also naturally inclined towards hostility with one another.”

He seemed to consider this for a moment, but soon after shook his head and the door glided shut before him. “It will be fine, I assure you.” If Phosnoi physiology allowed them the ability to smirk, Eriibeus likely would’ve. “No risk is too great in the pursuit of knowledge, Kathria.” And with his final word, a ball of teal lightning sparked within the glass bottle and died in a single blink of the eye. Eriibeus had vanished, and would arrive on the surface of Rolveon IV in several seconds.

She let out a single laugh. The Phosnoi were renowned around the galaxy for their insatiable thirst for knowledge, which in turn often translated into recklessness. After all the time they’d spent together, what Kathria once found endearing, she now found immensely annoying. “The irony is not lost on me, Eriibeus. Foolishness in the pursuit of knowledge is still foolishness the same.”

.X.

#science fiction #Eriibeus #Kathria #wip

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