#the consequence of loyalty by weird

[weirdestbooks]

The Puppet Master (Wattpad | Ao3)

Bonus Oneshot for the Consequence of Loyalty

Philippines had been dreading seeing Japan again. Now trapped behind the glass eyes of a puppet, he shuddered to think about what she might do to him now that he no longer had any way of fighting back. He had been worried, and if he had control of his body, he would have been pacing, trying to do anything to soothe the anxiety that wriggled in his stomach.

What he was faced with wasn’t what he expected.

“Philippines, it is so good to see that you have arrived safely. A bit thin, but that’s to be expected after being held captive in the jungle for so long. We’ll be sure you get enough rations to rebuild your strength,” Japan said upon his arrival, as Philippines stayed still and frozen in his spot in the Japanese truck, only staying upright because of the soldiers on either side of him.

He wished he could speak. He wanted to argue, to show her that he was not a prisoner until she made him, that he fought of his own free will because he was fighting for his land and his people. Was she really so deluded to think that Philippines supported her?

“Ma’am, he’s—” one of the soldiers began before Japan cut him.

“Ah, yes, my apologies. Philippines, you can stand and walk of your own accord. I forgot that you would still be frozen. Come, join me. We have much to catch you up on about your government,” Japan said. Philippines felt a cold feeling sink into his stomach as his body stood against his will, jumping out of the back of the truck and walking over to Japan.

He fought it the entire way over. It didn’t do anything. Philippines felt sick. He wanted to cry and scream and throw up, but all he did was stand beside Japan with an empty face and a still form.

“Come with me, Philippines,” Japan said, and Philippines was forced to follow. He fought it every step of the way, but it did nothing, and Japan continued, seemingly oblivious to the teeth and claws struggle Philippines was waging against his own body. 

Philippines wished that she knew. That she could tell that despite the blank gaze and obedience his body gave towards her, Philippines did not feel the same way and that he hated her for dragging him into a useless war.

Independence had been so close that he could taste it. She ripped that away from him, ripped his body away from him.

It wasn’t fair!

Philippines finally stopped when he and Japan entered an apartment, and her voice very quickly ordered him to.

“This is going to be our home when I’m able to be here. Of course, the war will keep me busy, but I hope to move most of our children here until a proper place is prepared in Tokyo,” Japan began immediately, creating a whole range of questions.

Their children? Philippines had never had children with Japan before. And was she going to be living with him? What was she talking about? 

Philippines wanted his voice back, to voice the questions that plagued his mind. Japan didn’t even seem to notice that he couldn’t talk back, just talking and talking about what their life together was going to be like.

Philippines was suddenly hit with a horrible realization.

Did…did Japan think that Philippines was in love with her? Was that what this was about? Taking away his free will, his country, his people, his autonomy, just….just to play house with her? Was she fucking insane?

Japan finally seemed to break out of planning…planning their life together (the idea of it made Philippines feel sick. For all his Padre’s flirting, countryhumans never felt any sort of romantic or sexual attraction. It conflicted with their nature, so for her to feel…feel something like this must be a sign of her madness), and she smiled at him.

“Please, Philippines, sit down. This is your home as well as mine,” Japan ordered. Philippines’ legs nearly collapsed as his body attempted to lower itself to the floor as quickly as possible. Japan frowned, and Philippines wanted to grit his teeth in anger.

She ordered him to sit down. He had no control over anything and couldn’t do anything to affect his body, so what the fuck was she frowning about?

“I meant on the furniture, not the floor,” Japan said, grabbing his arm and forcing him onto the couch. Philippines wished his face could display his confusion. If she meant couch, why didn’t she say that? His body only took commands from her. She needed to tell him what she wanted if his body was going to do anything.

Philippines hated this. He hated this more than he had before. He wanted to cry. He wanted his body back again. He wanted to go home, to his real home, not this place Japan crafted to feed her delusions.

“It…it is good to see you again,” Japan said, sounding…flustered.

Oh god, she really was delusional. But Philippines couldn’t say anything. He just sat on the couch, limbs a mix of stiff and limb, in an uncomfortable position he couldn’t free himself from.

Philippines hoped that Kentucky was fairing better than he was.

“I know this is not the most ideal approach, but it was the best way to keep you out of American hands,” Japan continued. Philippines couldn’t tell if she was referring to the invasion or the puppet state. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know. Both things were utterly deplorable actions. 

“But, now that you are safe, we can begin discussing the future,” Japan said. “Therefore, I permit you to speak. You’re lucky I had some other puppets to practice the extent of the control on, too.”

Philippines tried to open his mouth and was surprised when it actually moved. Every other part of his body still remained frozen under Japan’s control, but at least he now had this little bit of control back. It was something.

“Can I have back the rest of my body?” Philippines blurted it out before he could even think of anything else. He hated this. He hated being trapped; it was his body, and if Japan could give him back control over his mouth, she could give him back the rest of his body.

“Not yet. You will before the war is over, I can promise you that, but I need to ensure some things first,” Japan said.

“Like what?” Philippines asked, grateful he had the chance to talk even if every other part of his body was locked away.

“How do you feel about America?” Japan asked. Philippines paused. He could give the answer Japan probably wanted and be allowed to continue conversing, but at the same time…he couldn’t give up on his morals, even if that hurt him down the line.

“I wish he never took my independence from me, and I cannot deny that we have had some rough patches, but…he’s giving me back my independence. And he never made me a puppet. I’d rather be back with him than with you,” Philippines said. Anger flashed across Japan’s face, and Philippines wished he had enough control that he could straighten his back and look Japan in the eye and show her he was not afraid.

“I see. I will have to remove your permission to speak then. I do not want to do this, but…” Japan began to trail off, shaking her head, and Philippines went to speak, but his mouth was already glued shut again.

He wanted to sob.

But his sorrow was hidden by empty doll eyes.

“America has manipulated you. I know you don’t want this, Phil. I know you want to be away from them—finally free, and I promise I will do everything in my power to give you that,” Japan said. The hypocrisy sicked Philippines, but there was nothing he could do.

The puppet that Japan had turned him in to keep him still.

[neometalmadness]

@loyaltied​: god this is so valid. writing a more villainous character can be fun but it severely limits a lot of the interactions you can have if the development away from it is out of the question. its why i write my metal as reformed

[[ LITERALLY RIGHT like obviously... zero disrespect for those who want to write a villainous character as they are, actually you have my UTMOST respect if you do choose to do so-- bcuz keeping on top of interactions like that is a very draining task for me personally, so 10000% you’re doing amazing always. but for me iiiii don’t want too many samey interactions, especially with how the rpc currently lacks some villain characters

i do like to leave room for threads where Neo is clearly the bad guy, bcuz he certainly isn’t opposed from taking such a position. but i also would like him to be SOMEWHAT approachable to most parties. (with a heavy lean into quickly trusting associates of Eggman, but again, haven’t had chance to write much of that so far</3)

most times that i have written Neo (over like. 4 or 5 blogs. over the past years. oops.), with a lot of mainverse development, he has eventually just reformed anyway which left some exploration of his negative traits limited sooo i am kinda leaving it vague this time. he can go either way, depending on thread, depending on muse, ygm.

also on this note. i do like to keep my mainverse consistent though but i found i haven’t found much of my footing as of yeetttt so i’m not entirely sure what i will keep as canon to his mainverse? i just know most of the time, you can talk to him without being attacked but he probably won’t appreciate the company dhdskafhs

[ceilidho]

prompt: blue collar worker ghost knocking reader up in a gas station bathroom on a whim. (nsfw, 2k)

-

Just to look over at him on the driver’s side drives you crazy.  

His buzz cut uncovered by a hood or balaclava is the new normal. It makes your blood rush to think of dragging your fingers across it, never long enough to really grip; heats you up faster than sitting by a fire or plunging into warm water. It’s the same new normal as the bristly, naked skin of his jaw, which flexes under scrutiny. He hadn’t gotten around to shaving earlier—rarely does these days as long as he can keep to a five o’clock shadow—and it makes you shiver when you think of the raw tenderness on your inner thighs, a consequence of that decision. 

These are the consequences of trust and loyalty. Not long ago, you wouldn’t have expected more than a glimpse of dark eyes behind a mask. 

The window is cracked open just enough to let the smoke from his cigarette out. Black fingerless gloves, nails bare and trimmed, dirt and ink trapped always in the grooves of his fingers. Eyes heavy lidded as always from poor sleep, shot nerves the takeaway from an old life of brittle thin sleep. His cortisol levels, to this day, must ride high in the bloodstream. You’d give anything to ease it at a touch, but that’s not how things work. 

“Keep lookin’ at me like that and we’re gonna have a problem,” Simon says when you glance over at him for the fifth time in as many minutes. 

“A problem?” you repeat. You’re not trying to be coy—you’re really not—but it comes out that way regardless. A bit breathlessly too, you realize with a small degree of embarrassment. You’ve got no shame these days. 

He grunts instead of answering. Your fists close over your thighs as you dry to concentrate on the road ahead of you instead of the persistent ache between your thighs. It’s not his fault that your pussy picked now of all times to get desperate. 

You peer over at him again out of the corner of your eye. 

“Bird,” he growls. Doesn’t even have to look over at you to know that you’re staring. Just another weird six sense from another life. It’s a warning though, one you hear loud and clear. 

“I didn’t say anything,” you say in a huff, turning your head fully away from him now to stare out the window. 

Only a handful of minutes tick by with you watching the brown patches of grass and the trees lining the motorway before you shift in your seat. Acutely aware of the wet spot between your legs, the way Simon’s fingers curl over the steering wheel loosely when he drives one handed, the smell of smoke on the upholstery, the grimy spots on the windshield where the wipers don’t reach, the moment he shifts and the weight of him makes the leather squeak. 

You peek over at him again.

He doesn’t bother signalling before veering into the rightmost lane, ignoring the furious honking from the car right behind you. You yelp when he takes the exit at a breakneck speed, fingers gripping the underside of your seat before whipping your head around to glare at him. 

“What’s the matter with you?” you scream, spine stiff from the sudden lane change. 

Simon doesn’t answer you, but you notice that the exit leads to a rest stop just off the motorway. It’s one of the less frequented ones—just a cluster of fast food restaurants and a gas station. He pulls into a parking space and practically slams on the brakes, making you jerk forward in your seat. Simon’s never been the most cautious driver, but this is a whole new level for him.

“Simon—Simon, what are you doing—” you hiss through clenched teeth, but he’s already up and out of the car, circling around to your side. 

Your heart goes hummingbird quick in your chest, stomach in knots. When you pant out a breath, it comes out shaky with nerves and excitement. You toy with the idea of pressing down on the child lock when he comes around but think the better of it. There’s already a twitch in his eye. 

You look up at him through your lashes when he opens the door and leans in to release your seatbelt. 

“Get out,” he orders, and yanks you out before you can reply. 

The walk to the gas station is tense and you struggle to keep up with him. He walks too fast and expects you to keep up, growling down at you to move it, but you drag your feet a little. It’s shameful how even that gets you worked up. 

“Are we gonna—?” you ask breathlessly, irritation seeping out of you. Simon doesn’t answer, just tightens his hand around your wrist. 

A chime above the door jingles when the two of you walk in, heading straight for the back. You catch the attendant staring at the two of you with open contempt and give a tight, embarrassed smile back. Simon doesn’t so much as glance over. You think he’d let the man call the cops if it came down to it. 

The gas station bathroom is one of the crummier bathrooms you’ve ever been in, but you hardly register that with how Simon hauls you up against the door he just slammed shut and kisses you within an inch of your life. His kisses are ever slick and wet, dangerous for you—drugging when he drags his tongue over yours and a hand cups your head to angle it just right. You want to give as good as you get, but it’s easy to let yourself get swept away and open your mouth to let him in because you feel his hunger. 

“That cunt never gets tired of me, does she?” Simon mumbles into your mouth. He steals your words from you when he slots his lips over yours again. Only gives you enough space to drag in a sharp breath. 

It’s in your best interest. The only words available to you are pathetic little pleas, desperate fingers digging into his jacket and trying to pull it off so you can feel the muscle underneath. Trying to get as close as possible to him, to wrap yourself around him. A needy, pitiful thing. 

“Poor thing,” he sighs, pulling away from your mouth and laughing when your lips chase after him. Standing up on your tiptoes to kiss him again and kiss, hands tugging him down by the back of his neck. “So horny that you nearly made me crash the fuckin’ car.”

“Couldn’t wait,” you whine, peppering his neck with kisses when he draws up to his full height, nearly dizzy now. “Sorrysorrysorry, please—please fuck me, Simon—please—”

“Not here, bird—want you to see how desperate you look.”

He drags you over to the other side of the bathroom and makes you stand on his boots and face the mirror covered in lipstick and sharpie and god knows what else—“c’mon, up you get”—while he rucks up your dress. The stark contrast between the two of you in the mirror makes you baulk. Like you haven’t slept with him before and lived to tell the tale. He’s all dark clothing and mountains for shoulders, mouth always set in a flat line of impatience that would make anyone else turn the other way. 

You, however, press yourself back into him. 

Rough fingers tug your panties to the side, not bothering to check if you’re wet. Assuming that you are—that you always are with him, eager to cant your hips and offer yourself up to him.

You try not to think about how your pelvis is already tilted towards him.

Simon holds your head up with a single hand under your chin, squishing your cheeks a little. “Fuckin’ hell…look at that,” he rasps, eyes almost black with lust. 

“You’re being mean,” you whine, pushing back against him and wiggling your hips. 

“Doesn’t matter how many times I give it to you—always whining for it. Cock hungry bird.”

It would hurt if you didn’t already know how much he wants you too, the deep rasp in his voice betraying an aching, insatiable hunger. An arm locks like a bar across your chest to hold you in place, his hand fitting over a breast just to have something to hold. He can tell you again and again that it’s just you, but you know that he wants it just as badly as you do. 

He reaches around to undo his pants and then you feel a familiar cock bully its way into you, a tight fit only eased by the wetness almost glistening on your inner thighs. He grunts when his cock pushes into you, the same hand reaching around to rest low on your stomach, pinkie brushing the top of your mound. 

The first thrust jostles you, forces your palms to slam down on the mirror even though the arm across your chest keeps you tight to his chest. It’s sticky under your fingers. You wince when you think of how much Purell you’ll need after this, but the thought melts away when he pulls his cock almost all the way out of you before slamming back in. 

“Yes, yes—fuck—” you gasp, staring at your reflection in the mirror. After a couple hours on the road, you’re not exactly in tiptop shape—sweaty and in need of a shower and coffee—but any timidity evaporates under Simon’s hot gaze. It eats you up. 

His jaw flexes with each thrust, eyes flitting between your tits bouncing under your dress and your face until it stays there, devouring you in a single heated look. Every time your shoes almost slip off his boots, he pulls you tighter into his chest; you couldn’t get out of his hold even if you wanted to. The thought makes the blood rush through your ears. 

“Almost need someone else jus’ to take care of you when I’m not around,” Simon growls. He gives your breast a rough squeeze, an admonishment. 

“No—no one else—” 

“Jus’ me then, pet? No one else can take care of this little cunt?”

You shake your head, maybe nod, maybe sob a bit. It’s hard to tell. The hand on your low belly grips into the flesh, holding you in place while he rails you over the sink. Impossible to look away from the man towering over you, a man you’ve let willingly bend you over and get between your thighs. You wouldn’t even if you could. He’s the summation of everything you’ve ever hoped for, packaged in the too big body of a gun for hire, riddled with nerve damage and a nasty temper. You wouldn’t trade him for anything in the world.

Your eyes slip shut.

“Tell you what,” he breathes into your ear, the burr of his stubble rubbing your neck raw. “I’ll give you somethin’ else to keep you busy.” 

Your eyes spring wide open.

He shifts his stance and drives into you with renewed vigour, muffling your sounds with a hand over your mouth. The mirror fogs up through the gaps between his fingers, the room damper and stickier now than when you entered it. Tears build in the corners of your eyes. 

When he goes quiet, you know what’s about to happen. Your toes curl in your shoes when he exhales a ragged breath, gritting his teeth when he meets your eyes again in the mirror. Something about his gaze alone makes you come, like a deep press into your soul. The fat cock stretching you out is just a bonus. 

The come down is harsh, laboured breaths panting out of you until your chest finally settles, until it feels safe enough to move. You lower one foot from on top of his boot just for Simon’s arms to constrict even more, holding you fast to his chest. He can probably feel your heartbeat against his wrist. 

“Quit squirming,” he scolds, giving you a little warning squeeze.

“‘M sweaty,” you complain.

“We’ll towel off at home,” Simon says, rolling his eyes. “Don’t bitch.”

“I’m not bitching, I’m hot—” 

He lets you carp and moan about your inner thighs being covered in beard burn and come while straightening out your dress, pulling your panties back into place. He’s quicker with himself, doesn’t even bother grabbing a paper towel to wipe himself off before shoving his cock back into his pants and zipping up. When you ask him to hand you one, the look he gives you scorches you right to the bone. 

“Wait ‘till we get home,” he says, hand on your back when he unlocks the bathroom door.

“Like you aren’t gonna do it all over again the second we get there,” you mutter.

His smirk isn’t smug, but it’s a near thing.

[found-pham-ily]

@harvestandhearth

I almost didn't write this because of the amount of hate I was getting but you were so excited I figured one little addition wouldn't hurt.

Tw Cop!Danny if you don't like don't read.

It had been an offhand comment. Walker had notice the ghost boy...now man had seemed upset. Upon hearing Phantom's plight he had made the suggestion, become a cop.

Danny wasn't a fan of cops, too many bad things done under the guise of protecting and serving. But he'd failed at becoming a fire fighter. The heat from one of the training events had all but hospitalized him, which got him kicked out. Thanks to the meta protection acts and the open secret of who he was no one judged him for his weakness.

Then he tried for the Emt route, but between his poor high-school grades effecting any chances at a scholarship and the time he had to spend fighting ghosts he didn't really manage well and ended up dropping out. But hey he picked some stuff up and used that to patch people up post Ghost fights.

He considered a social worker too, but he couldn't exactly fight Ghost on the clock, and the lack of action made it a slog. After so long of being a vigilante, the need for action was a second nature. The Ghost biology needing to fight didn't help either.

Walker's idea buzzed around his head. It made sense in a weird way. He could actually help people, fight Ghost on the clock, and get a decent pay check...

His sister ever the busy body had asked why civil service jobs? Why not go for Nasa like he dreamed of. With the acts repealed and him being labeled a meta he could legally do so. But those damn grades ruined it.

So a cop be became. It was disturbingly easy to become one too. Worrisomely so. He was both good and bad at his job depending who you asked. The people despite their teasing loved him. He had always done his best for them, he only rarely used any form of violence with people, and when needed nothing more then the bare minimal to safely stop them. Hell he'd taken a few bullets from other cops to save people.

The other cops hated him, Danny didn't subscribe to the usually loyalty and standards a cop had. You did something illegal and abused your power he'd report it in such a way consequences had to be given. Yeah he'd keep his partner safe, and did his job well but he broke the status quo. He also made the whole force in Amity look bad. He was so good he made them look incompetent.

But despite all he did Danny wasn't free from the social scrutiny. Both from the living and the dead. Ghost mocked him for becoming lame and joining the cops. Humans just went with the stigma, not unfairly so; and it just fueled him to do his job better. To prove to people that just because he wore a uniform he wasn't full of hate.

Apparently he did his job too well. At least that's what he assumed as he sat in an office a Green Lantern in front of him. "So let me get this straight, you want me to become the face of a civilian branch of the Justice League?" Danny was still bitter about all the help he didn't get as a budding child hero.

"Yes, your work as both a cop and a meta dealing with supernatural threats has gained an online following. We want people to know that we work with the authorities and accept metas in non-hero jobs." Hal could tell the man was suspicious of him. Which wasn't unfair since the league seemed to always recruit metas into hero jobs.

"You wouldn't have to do more then you already do aside the occasional press conference." He continued.

Danny sighed and thought on it, this would secure his job that he knew was on the chopping block due to his 'insubordination'. They couldn't fire him without a major backlash if he had the Justice League on his side. But he didn't like the idea of being some sort of symbol. He just wanted to help protect people, and maybe throw some punches with some ghosts. He was a simple man after all.

"Fine but I want the medical benefits the League offers." Medical was expensive, and while Danny healed faster then the average person that didn't effect the initial bills. And he had to go to the hospital for paperwork's sake.

"That can be arranged." Hal was just glad he didn't get the expected rejection from the ex-teen hero.

[ckret2]

Why do you ship billford? i want to hear all ur handcanons and reasons hehehe

ALL of them? My friend I do not think you comprehend the magnitude of the task you have requested. I can tell you some of them.

Here's a post I already wrote listing why I like them, and here's a post about what Ford thinks about Bill, and I just made a post about what Bill thinks about Ford because I've had it typed up on discord for ages and decided it needs its own post.

So, some headcanons:

⭐️ While most people who ship it headcanon that they had a romantic relationship of some kind pre-betrayal, my default headcanon is that they DIDN'T have a relationship—mainly because I enjoy making Bill, specifically, miserable, and I like headcanoning that Ford violently lost interest in Bill at the EXACT moment Bill developed a sincere interest in Ford.

Meaning that Bill "LOOKS LIKE MR. BRAINIAC FINALLY GOT SMART" Cipher destroyed his own chances five seconds before going "no no wait I actually want to keep this one," and that's SO funny. I made a graph!

⭐️ From Lost Legends we know that Ford used to date a siren. In the original Greek mythology, sirens didn't woo sailors by singing prettily; sirens offered knowledge about distant and future events. Sailors wrecked their ship upon the sirens' shores and starved to death at their feet just to listen to them sing about the secrets of the universe.

What I'm saying is: Ford has a type.

⭐️ This is a mutual monsterfucker 4 monsterfucker relationship. They look at each other and go "wow you're such a weird-looking alien" and they're attracted to each other BECAUSE of that, not in spite of that. I don't want any of this "oh how could I be drawn to something so strange..." shame out of Ford, as far as I'm concerned his first crush was Mothra, a floating triangle is nothing.

⭐️ Consequently, this means that if you take an AU where Bill gets stuffed in a human body, rather than making things easier, it ironically means that any PHYSICAL attraction Ford had for Bill instantly evaporates. A humanized Bill could be the sexiest damn thing in the room and everyone else in the vicinity is going 🥵💦 but Ford's going 😐. If they hook up with Bill in a human body it's in spite of Bill's current appearance and it's because Ford knows that, underneath the body, Bill's still Bill. You could hand Ford a perfect Tumblr Sexyman supermodel and he'll be fantasizing about a three-tiered pyramid with more teeth than a shark.

⭐️ Bill WILL play Dungeons Dungeons & More Dungeons with Ford, voluntarily, for fun. However he always wants to DM and he's brutal.

⭐️ I think that the majority of the Henchmaniacs used to be like Ford: young, naive, USEFUL aliens that Bill was trying to manipulate into getting access to their universes, probably by trying to get THEM to build portals. None succeeded, but they got far enough along that either they chose to join Bill, they were forced to flee their dimension and join Bill—or, due to Bill, their home no longer existed, so they might as well join him. I think that every one of them was once his ✨favorite✨ person. I think he sealed the deal in winning their friendship & loyalty with a calculated, scripted display of vulnerability—the exact same one he tried to use on Ford: I liberated my constricting, flat world; I want to liberate yours...

He may have dated some of them, too, especially right after they joined. Because he wouldn't have recruited them unless he thought they were JUST ♥ LIKE ♥ HIM. They're special, they're important...

... and after a few years, Bill realizes they're not that much like him after all and loses interest, and they sink down into the rank-and-file with the rest of the Henchmaniacs. The Henchmaniacs are FULL of people who were once Bill's Favorite—his best friends, his confidants, his lovers—and most of them are desperate to catch his eye and be that important to him again. They gave everything they had to Bill only for Bill to get bored.

So when he shows off the human who enabled Weirdmageddon and invites him to join the gang, they know EXACTLY what they're looking at: Bill's newest favorite. They know how this goes, he'll be gaga over this earthling for the next 5 to 500 years and then Ford will be just another regular Henchmaniac. The fact that Ford doesn't seem eager to join is no problem. Ford isn't the only soon-to-be Henchmaniac whose world Bill ended; some of them had to be talked around into joining, too.

⭐️ I think that, if you took Bill with his canon personality, didn't give him any character development, and then made him GENUINELY fall in love with Ford, and had him SINCERELY try his hardest to be a good, loving, healthy partner... he would still be toxic as hell for Ford.

Part of what draws Bill to Ford is that he sees SO much of himself in Ford—some accurate, some just projection. (You who crave power and fame and fortune like I do; you who also hunger to be all-knowing; you who would also sacrifice your world and your family and everyone you know and love to get what you want; you with an ego the size of the moon, oh, you deserve an ego the size of a star.) And so he assumes that what Ford really wants is what BILL would want in Ford's shoes.

And if Bill was Ford, what he'd want is to REALLY be the man who changed the world. Bill thinks he's fulfilling all Ford's wildest dreams if he gives that to him. Naming Ford the orchestrator of Weirdmageddon is the most generous gift Bill could ever offer.

Even if Bill is Really Really Trying and accepts that okay Ford doesn't want his world invaded: his idea of showing Ford love will be pulling the strings to get Ford fame & fortune. Teach him secrets of the universe that he can publish in a dozen groundbreaking scientific papers, arrange meetings with politicians and celebrities, get him a Nobel, get him an Oscar-winning bio pic, get him a billion dollars, get him EVERYTHING Ford's ever imagined as a marker of success and then double it.

When Bill's manipulating Ford, he offers praise and approval in little drops periodically leaking from the faucet, to keep Ford thirsty for more. When Bill's LOVING Ford, he just breaks the fire hydrant and lets it flood the street.

But the thing is, that's not good for Ford. That'll never make him truly happy. Ford's only ever learned how to measure his success by external markers, but the more external markers he collects the more he'll feel like he hasn't Made It yet. It's even possible that knowing Bill's helped him get this far will make him feel like he hasn't really EARNED it. He could have the whole world handed to him and he'll feel just as dissatisfied as he was on the day he first summoned Bill.

And Bill, even if he's trying his HARDEST to do this right, wouldn't be able to understand why this isn't working. A trillion years old and the only way he knows how to show love (or to receive love) is by showering someone in praise and gifts and favors. If that doesn't work, he doesn't know what's left.

[edgeray]

Hi there!

I just finish to read the rules for Arlecchino request, and I saw no specific illness/disease, so I will try to make my situation for everyone:

I have horrible knee pain to the point I'm close to faint because of it sometimes.

But to put it more accessible to everyone what about that:

Reader hurt themself during a mission but it was an intern injury, they hide it but Arlecchino noticed how they start walking weird and many other sign.. until Reader faint from the pain? How will Arlecchino react and what would she do?

Sorry if it disobey the rules and for any grammar mistake since English is not my first language ^^ (and I'm writing this while it's 12 am where I'm from ;/ )

Thank you if you are making this request, if not I still thank you for reading it until the end :)

I Am Fine in Your Arms

(Arlecchino x GN! Reader)

A/N - Hi, there anon! If you choose to request anon again, give yourself a name/emoji 🫶! I really appreciate you pertaining to my rules; not only do I want to make my x Reader's accessible to as many people, but I also don't want to misrepresent anyone or their experiences with that illness/condition especially since I myself most likely won't have them, so thanks for the consideration. I'm assuming by ‘intern injury’ you mean ‘internal injury,’ so that's what I'm writing based off. You're not breaking any of my rules but your concern is appreciated! Don't worry about it though. Your English is good, especially since it's not your first language :). Little bit rushed because I am tired and ti's 12AM. Thank you for your request! Content warnings / info - reader goes by ‘mother’ but gn! reader, semi-graphic details about injury, this weirdly had actual plot for some reason, 1.5k words

Although the vast majority of your duties was primarily serving the House of the Hearth and the Fourth Harbinger, as a member of the Fatui, it was mandatory for the Fatui to ensure you still held loyalties to the Tsaritsa. Typically, proof of your fidelity was through completing the occasional reconnaissance mission assigned to you every couple of months though this time you were given a different type of operation: direct action, specifically, assassination. 

Assassination wasn't necessarily your forte, but it was doable. In a few weeks, you'd stop scrubbing your hands incessantly in hopes of washing away the stained blood, and you would stop receiving dreams painted in red. At least, with reconnaissance, blood and violence could be avoided. Why you were assigned this particular assassination mission when there were much more suitable candidates, you could only assume. You had an inkling it had to do with some of the other Harbingers’ grudges and suspicions of your husband, and perhaps the chink in the Knave's impenetrable armor  would be you. Failure in this mission could quickly spiral into considerable consequences for you and Arlecchino, regardless if the designation was influenced by more untrustworthy Harbingers, so you couldn't afford to fail this anyways–not with how high profile this target was. 

You return to the House of the Hearth, splatters of blood still visible on your appearance despite your best attempts of cleaning up. At your arrival, some of the children rush to greet you, only to pause as they take in your exhausated form. You give them a weak smile, bending down and extending your arms to accept their eager embraces.

“M-mother!” the children exclaim as they swarm around you, their curious and anxious minds surely brimming with many questions. You hadn't told any of the children where you've gone to for the past few days, believing that there was no need to stir up such worries when the mission was going expectedly. You were wrong, however; no mission like the one they had given you should have been done alone, and yet the only one you could depend on was yourself and your vision. It was undeniably a test for you, and you had only scraped by with your life and the mission's success. Now, all you wanted to do was collapse in bed and hibernate for several weeks, your head filled with a dense fog and senses dulling.  

“Mother, there's blood on–” Barely able to hear the statement, you shake your head, dismissing the little girl's distress. “Don't worry, dear… it's not mine.”

With some effort, you pull away from the children and you hobble your way towards the living commons, your bruised ribs impelling pained grunts from you. 

“Someone…” you pant, placing your hand over your forehead. Leaning against the nearest wall, you shut your eyes, breathing in deeply as an attempt to relieve the ache. “Someone go get your Father.” 

Multiple feet scurry away after your command, but the remaining children around you overwhelm you with their burning questions of what they can do to help, what did you need, whether or not you needed medicine, and much more that you couldn't bother processing.  Gently, you push past them, making your way to you and Arlecchino's shared bedroom. 

“I'm sorry, children, I just need to lay down in private for a little bit, okay? Then I promise that I will be up soon, and we can make cookies. How does that sound?” You say to them in an effort to quell their anxiety and it works for the younger children. The older ones, however, you can tell they still carry some distress but they nod along for your sake.

Such good children. 

You enter your bedroom and shut the door, immediately peeling away your clothes caked in blood, not even bothering to go into your adjacent bathroom. After chucking the articles in the direction of the laundry basket, you dig through the wardrobe for your much more prefered uniform, the one you wore as ‘Mother.’ By that time, the door clicks, and your husband enters.

Arlecchino wastes no time in appearing by your side, her blackened hands wrapped around your hips, and guiding you to sit on the edge of the bed. You hoped that you were able to hide your wince in time when she touched you. You know your husband far too well to know that, despite her stoic expression, she is just as worried for you, if not more, than your children. There's that small knit in her brows, and her lips are curled the slightest bit more. She had always been fiercely protective of you. 

“My love, there's blood–” she starts, but you cut her off with a chuckle. “I know, one of the children already pointed it out.”

Then, your tone hardens. There's no need to wait to let her know. “I need to tell you something.”

“You should rest.”

You shake your head. “This comes first, Arlecchino.” 

“You just came back.” 

“Peruere,” you enunciate, quickly silencing the Knave. “I am fine,” you assure her with a stern tone but fond eyes. You let out a defeated huff, resorting to wrapping your arms around her and leaning your head against her shoulder to ease her and to conceal your pained expression as your body protested the movement. 

Remaining in that position, you brief her on your mission and every single detail to it. From the process of researching and finding the opportune time to, to the actual execution of the assassinatin, which proved to be much more complicated and difficult than you were able to account for. This was due to the lack of information given to you once you were assigned. With the absence of partners and the omittance of crucial details, it is, undoubtedly, an attempt to sabotage you and cause you to fail. The two of you discussed what to do, going forward in cases like this, as well as potential suspects, their motives, and wouldbe gains. With each growing minute, Arlecchino held you tighter and you leaned in closer. 

After the conversation finished, your husband quietly held you, without uttering another sound, for around half-an-hour, the two of you indulging in one another's company. You pull away with a kiss to her forehead.

“I promised the kids I would make cookies with them. Would you like some?” 

Arlecchino knows better than to say no. She gives you a curt nod. You hum with acknowledgement to her answer, standing up from sitting on the bed. Almost instantaneously, the moment you stabilize yourself on your feet, your vision grows black and an abrupt throbbing comes to your head. You stumble forward, but catch yourself. 

“Love–”

“I'm fine. Just stood up too fast,” you gruff, staggering your way towards the door but the limp is far too obvious. You only make it a few steps before you stumble over again, nearly hitting the floor if it weren't for Arlecchino’s quick reflexes. Stabbing pain surrounds you, and paired with your fatigued state, you no longer have the energy to ignore the agony. She cradles you in her arms and you glance up at her. Your sight swims, and her appearance keeps distorting before you. Clinging onto consciousness seems to be a losing battle. 

“The cookies…”

“Forget about the cookies. You said you were fine,” Arlecchino scolded through gritted teeth, with some frustration and anger in her voice. Placing her arm underneath your back and underneath your legs, she carries you bridal-style, already rushing towards the medical bay. 

“Stay awake for me. Stay awake,” it is a harsh demand, but you know it is nothing more than a desperate plea. Your eyelids droop and you close your eyes.

Arlecchino lets out an expletive under her breath, quickening her pace as she barges into the room. The specialized doctor for the House of the Hearth is startled, but the Harbinger's intense glower tells the doctor all she needs to know. 

“Find out what is wrong with her, and fix it. Now,” the Harbinger orders, and the doctor goes into work immediately once your body is placed on the bed. 

The Knave soundlessly watches the doctor's each and every action, refusing to budge by your side. Although she knows that medical treatment is not her expertise, Arlecchino cannot help but critique her doctor in her thoughts. Not fast enough, not effective enough, not enough for her darling who could be experiencing unbearable pain now.

The doctor works until she assures the Harbinger that everything that could be done is, and that you will wake in the following morning. Arlecchino wordlessly thanks the doctor but her hand that clasps yours doesn't move for even one movement. Eventually, night falls. Climbing into the small bed, she tenderly wraps her arms around you, unable to be pulled apart from you until she knows your safety is guaranteed. Underneath her skin, seething rage boils for the coworkers who try to deprive her of her authority and power, but most of all, for causing you in this state.

The next morning, Arlecchino's eyes flutter open when she feels the warm body next to her stir. She awakens to your soft smile.

“I said I was fine, didn't I?” You greet her with a twinkle in your eyes. 

Arlecchino's heart swells.

[vigilskeep]

there are so many things in veilguard that have made me go "wait what??? okay i guess i have to totally rethink the character i'm roleplaying now" that it's literally impossible to guess what thing you're referring to as The Thing That Happened. obviously extremely curious to hear what it is once you've detangled it

it’s kind of like that but it’s also less that and more... okay i should probably just say it, i’m being weird and unhelpful and i need to write it out anyway so i can think

MASSIVE SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT for a companion quest, do NOT say i didn’t warn you. also please don’t respond to this if you know more than me i am in distress but i still don’t want spoilers

so i just finished lucanis’ “a murder of crows” quest. and lucanis. first talon. for some reason. (this is the writing choice i’m ??? on. also i’m ??? on lucanis’ whole storyline, frankly. the writing was. well. like i said, we’re not unpicking that right now, i don’t want to get into it at this point, not the conversation i’m having.)

lifelong trauma of being in the crows and fighting to get someone in a talon’s position and keep them there -> the thing that gave sol all their diseases and made them, to be frank, fairly suicidal

viago: ultimately can handle it without them, especially with teia’s backing.

lucanis: CANNOT handle it without them. holy fuck. for like twelve hundred different reasons, unthinkable, completely laughable, that he can handle this. who is going to protect him. the only reason this could be better at keeping sol mentally stable than watching viago’s back is that they will never feel purposeless or need to go looking for an adrenaline rush, because forget crows, an ambitious blackbird could eat that man alive. he can’t scheme. he can’t even SCHEME and the very fact that he trusts sol DE RIVA demonstrates this. sol is a crow! from another house! does he have no memory at all of the fact that his own parents died in crow infighting? sol could have been playing him this whole time, it wouldn’t have even been hard, and if they were that kind of person, then right now the first talon’s house would have just fallen directly in their hands like a gift from the maker, and they can’t even say a part of themself they can’t shut off isn’t thinking about it that way! how is sol supposed to keep someone like that alive?

you see what it’s like trying to sleep while sol is having this discussion in my mind.

ahem. anyway. pathways for sol’s life assuming they indeed make it through the game:

becoming lucanis’ guard dog the way they were for viago, which (even if they could mentally handle that, which they can’t. or can they??) means switching house loyalties which would surely destroy them eventually -> bad

somehow trying to persuade lucanis to give this up, as if that wouldn’t be throwing house dellamorte completely to the dogs, which at least sol can’t imagine any crow is capable of, let alone someone so dedicated to clinging to what remains of his family that he couldn’t even kill a traitor -> bad

going ahead and leaving the crows, but sol now has to leave BOTH viago and lucanis behind and also lucanis is going to die in there because they left him to do this alone -> bad

solution: sol is back on their original “if a blighted dragon eats me by the end of this, i don’t have to experience consequences” train

and maybe they’re right and i should not worry about this because i’m painfully aware it’s VERY bold to start deciding what happens after the game at this point, when they might still get trapped in the fade or turned into paste or something. and admittedly they did know and dread the possibilities from the first moment they felt something for lucanis, which was why they so wanted it to be anyone else, because anyone else in that lighthouse could have given them a different world, and he is the one who regardless of his best or worst intentions can only tie them tighter to a burning building. and SURE, i see the solas/mythal breakup parallels of sol still leaving, i’m looking at them, that doesn’t mean i have to LIKE them

he hasn’t even kissed them. they’re doing all of this unkissed. lucanis dellamorte when i get you

again please absolutely do not respond to any of this with even the vaguest of hints if you know more about the rest of the game than me 🙏 it’s probably best if no-one responds to this at all lmao i am just thinking out loud. you can reply with a “that’s rough buddy”. for sol

[shall-we-die]

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{Darling}

Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling's will?

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↬[Fandom]•⊰ {Obey me!}࿐

↬[Warnings]•⊰ {Yandere behaviors}࿐

☰[Main list]•⊰ ────┈┈{0079}┈─╮

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╰┈➤Likes/Reblogs are appreciated࿐

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We're talking about demons/ an angle who has no fear doing sins/ +weird wizard ♡ of course they won't give a fuck about what you really want~

↬|Lucifer|

Lucifer wouldn’t see you as a separate person from him, so no, he feels he’d wouldn’t think he’d be doing anything ‘against your will’. He’d be doing what he wants- and you’d just have to go along with it. Even if you protested, you’re just a powerless little human. There’s really no choice to be considered here.

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↬|Mammon|

As a yandere, Mammon would do anything against MC’s will if it served his need to control them and keep them dependent on him. This could include restricting their freedoms, such as limiting their social interactions and activities. He would also control how MC dresses, where they go, and what they do, making sure everything is according to his wishes. Mammon would also be willing to use emotional manipulation and guilt-tripping to make MC compliant, using their feelings for him to his advantage.

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↬|Leviathan|

Levi would have no qualms about acting against MC's will if it meant keeping them to himself. he might resort to manipulation, emotional abuse, or even physical force to enforce his will and make sure MC doesn't leave him. he would prioritize his possessive desires over MC's boundaries and autonomy, not caring about the consequences of his actions so long as it furthered their relationship.

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↬|Satan|

Satan would have no qualms about doing anything against MC's will if he believes it's for their own good or for the betterment of their relationship. He may justify his actions by convincing himself that MC is too young, naive, or unwise to make their own decisions, and that he knows what's best for them. He might also try to Gaslight MC into believing that their resistance is irrational and that they need him to guide and control them.

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↬|Asmodeus|

Oh yeah, definitely. Asmodeus would have no problem doing anything against MC's will, whether it's making decisions for them, telling them what to do and not do, or physically forcing them into compliance if he can't make them do it through manipulation. He has no respect for MC's boundaries or autonomy, and would gladly bend them to his will if it makes them stay with him and be his forever.

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↬|Beelzebub|

Beelzebub would hesitate (a little) to do things against the MC's will but if he feels it's necessary to maintain control and keep MC dependent on him, he'll do it. This could include monitoring them, limiting their freedom, isolating them from friends and family, controlling their choices and decision-making, or even forcing them into situations that are uncomfortable or unwanted. Beelzebub's main goal is to ensure MC's loyalty, devotion, and submission, and he would not care about their will or feelings if it threatens his control over them.

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↬|Belphegor|

Definitely yes. He'd do anything to make you his. He's dominant, and also possessive and jealous, so you might not like that. He'll try to do as much as he can to get his way, he might try to manipulate you into doing what he wants, or even going as far as to lock you up so you don't escape. He'll dominate you, and you won't be able to get away from his grasp, you'll be *his*.

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↬|Diavolo|

In his pursuit of MC, a yandere Diavolo might go to extremes against their will, such as stalking them, manipulating their friends and family, or even resorting to violence and intimidation to keep them close. He might also try to isolate them from others and control their actions, all in the name of love and possession. A yandere Diavolo might go as far as attempting to harm or even kill anyone who gets in the way of their relationship with MC. They might also use guilt tripping, gaslighting, and other manipulation tactics to slowly but surely isolate MC from their loved ones and make them completely dependent on only them. As a result, MC might find themselves cut off from the world, feeling trapped and powerless within Diavolo's obsessive, possessive grip.

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↬|Barbatos|

Absolutely. A yandere like Barbatos cares more about his own desires and wants, rather than your own. He would not hesitate to manipulate you with lies and sweet words to make you submit to him. He may also use force or threats to get you to comply with his demands. He would also try to isolate you from others, whether it's friends, family, or anyone who could help you escape from him. He'll do whatever it takes to keep you all to himself, even if it means going against your own will.

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↬|Simeon|

Yes... a yandere is willing to go to extreme lengths to control their love interest. Aside from abduction, he would be willing to manipulate, manipulate, or even harm them if it means keeping them under his control and preventing them from leaving or even wanting to have a life separate from him. He may try to isolate them from their friends and family, make them quit their hobbies and jobs, and even make them question their own beliefs and desires. He will stop at nothing to make them completely dependent on him and mold them into the person he wants them to be. You think he's an angel. An angel who whispers sweet things in your ear, and surely you'll do anything he wants you to do.

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↬|Solomon|

Solomon would be willing to do anything against MC's will if he believes it will make them belong only to him. This could include emotional manipulation, threats, blackmail, or even outright force. He may also try to gaslight them into believing that their thoughts and feelings are wrong, and that his actions are for their own good or for their protection. Solomon's main goal would be to maintain total control over MC, even at the cost of them autonomy and well-being.

||[🄳arling]||

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[moderator-monnie]

Artwork Made by @sonicexelle-junkary / @weirdozjunkary as a commission.

Sonic the hedgehog has been dead over over 200 years, however decedents of his friends still exist and live out their normal lives.

Including the descendent of his little buddy Miles 'Tails' Prower named Techie Kaboom, a bat eared fox who has had a few accidents in his mechanic shop.

Sonic might be long gone, but his face, his story, and his image still exists in the far off future and often is used to advertise products in stores using holograms.

And one day, one of these holograms becomes sentient and for some reason think's it's the real Sonic, the one true Sonic and rewrites it's own code to give itself freedom.

But it can't move on it's own, no he can't and as luck would have it Techie was passing by the store this hologram found himself at, and with a silver tongue was able to convince Techie he was the real Sonic and he needed help.

Techie of course due to his ancestor loved Sonic, hearing nothing but good things about him throughout the generations decided to trust in him, he was his hero after all and Sonic wouldn't hurt him right?

Techie sneakfully took the holograms admitter and stuck it into his backpack, and the two managed to get out of the mall without much of a fuss and all seemed great at first Techie and Hologram as he nicknamed himself would talk and work together.

But this was all a ruse careful planning and manipulation done by the holographic hedgehog and one day an 'accident' happened in the mechanics building one that required Techie to get a heart transplant.

And once the surgery was complete and the pair was alone again, Hologram would admit his true colors in his own word's he would tell him his thoughts.

"I am the real Sonic, I can feel it, you can feel it... BUT your not Tails, your not my little buddy in the slightest however you can be! And thanks to your new heart I can help teach you."

"You see... I hate what has been done to my image, look at what they've done to me, they are treating a hero and his friends like cheap things to advertise their stores, and I won't stand for it anymore."

"We're gonna make them pay and hey 'pal' if you want us to bring a new legacy to the names of Sonic and Tails... You'll do as your told, unless you want to suffer the consequences."

Hologram had full control over Techie's eye, his arm and now his new heart he could kill the fox anytime he wanted now, and he would provide an example of that by shutting of Techies heart for about 10 seconds before restarting it.

And out of mostly fear but also a weird sense of loyalty to Sonic and the image of him he had always known about, Techie agrees to help him, Sonic wouldn't hurt him unless it was absolutely necessary right? So if He got hurt it would be because he messed up, at least thats what Techie had going thru his head.

Sonic was a hero, and if he did something it was for the greater good, this was Sonic it had to be, and he'd do what it takes to make him and his ancestor proud of him.

This is an Au about this story, as Techie Kaboom and Hologram Sonic bringing destruction in their wake, but not all familiar faces are gone, Silver The Hedgehog is around and protects his future from the threat of the pair.

But will Silver be able to protect the future? or will it all be brought down by one Hologram and his 'best buddy' only time will tell in the Hologram.Bin Au.

This au has technically existed since march of last year, but I'm glad to be able to finally share it all with you, and eventually write stories for it and show you what is in store for our antagonists and protagonist.

[tanoraqui]

Dungeon Meshi Liveblog: Kabru & Mithrun's Life-Changing Road Trip

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safhkjkhf no but also fake!Kabru is entirely flat because Mithrun doesn't have depth perception...

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Between this and the information that the team has a 1:2 ratio of guards to criminals, with the guards often appointed by their families as a melodramatic show of loyalty to the realm - which is...possibly literally true, considering the prestige of badassery; but, considering the criminals and the danger, also very possibly a polite euphemism for what amounts to a public sacrifice... I kind of ferally want to know about the dynamics of the Canaries. Are they loyal to each other, or to the cause? Are they all just under the threat of execution? Kabru expected the captain of the squad to be an aristocratic guard, them being more trustworthy than a semi-pardoned criminal ofc, but instead he's...whatever exactly Mithrun's legal status is; I've avoided some details of his backstory.

...I might have to go back and try to actually mentally distinguish these people from each other.

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Laios Heaven is actually Kabru Hell, and vice versa. It's a very efficient system!

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*giggles* Kabru is having a weird, upside-down day.

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"Don't wish often" is such a threatening thing to say, honestly. Don't want. Don't try. Don't be alive, or this place will try to kill you and eat you, for it, too, wishes to live, and that is how the continuation of life works.

It's so so interesting how elves clearly have ANSWERS, answers that our party have been searching for, which would've made their whole adventure easier, and the elves just aren't telling people. To maintain their own power over other races? Probably. Because knowing about demons who'll offer you unlimited power would be a dangerous temptation to many? In fairness, probably that, too. But it sure as hell serves them first.

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Oh yeah, this definitely reads as aristocratic youths joining the Canaries isn't per se voluntary on their families' parts. It's the elvish Suicide Squad.

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The timeline isn't making sense. When Mithrun banished the giant mushroom, it was clearly implied that it went to where and when Team Touden were when we'd last seen them, just after their first incident with the changeling mushrooms and then the dwarvish cable car. However, now the pop-up side panels are saying that Kabru and Mithrun's week in the dungeon together is happening at the same time as Team Touden goes through their shapeshifter adventure, barometz, Golden Country, griffins... Which makes sense if one assumes the Canaries & co went into the dungeon right after Kabru first spoke to them, which does seem right in terms of those characters' plotline and personal timetables. But there was no indication, when it cut over to them, that we'd suddenly gone backwards a week in the comic's timeline; indeed, the giant walking changeling mushroom incident suggested it was a single continuity...

Is this just a continuity error? Did I miss some clarifying signifier?

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Kabru: [tells Mithrun his own backstory back at him]

Mithrun: You left out the soap operatic relationships rooted in royal intrigue, which in turn was rooted in millennia of other royal intrigue.

Kabru: Yes, but I need it to be understandable to a man who's mostly just going to ask me how the goat-demon tast– I mean, uh... Your story structure was bad, so I simplified it.

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Oh shit, that's the thing Marcille is studying! She doesn't know it summons demons!

...My instinct is, "if only someone told her instead of completely outlawing the knowledge, forcing her to stumble blindly into the consequences on her own!" But, uh... I'm not sure this would actually stop her. She's very determined, and also has her share of wizard hubris. This is, of course, a driving question of the story.

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It wasn't easier to kill them? It wasn't easier to simply stop drawing magic from the infinite-power dimension?

...ok obviously not the latter, because, y'know. Fossil fuels. But seriously it wasn't easier to just kill them?

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It's sooo intersting how everyone else views Laios's love of monsters as a dangerous moral failing, when it's really just...ecologist enthusiasm. The man thinks this class of being is Neat. He is harming literally 0 people about this. He isn't even forcing anyone to eat them, just inviting them really enthusiastically and/or pointing out that this is necessary in order to achieve their shared goal of saving Falin.

Yes, obviously this could be subverted into something terrible by an encouraging demon. Just like, obviously, a desire to protect and preserve people can be! Or a desire to live happily with your loved ones! Laios isn't worse than any other Lord of a Dungeon; y'all just hate monsters!

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Kabru that is SO gay, jfc. I object on principle to the phrase "no heterosexual explanation", but--

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M! V! P! M! V! P!

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Friendship? Teamwork? Mutual respect and shared understanding of goals? Mithrun is a very useful ally because he really does Only want to stop the demon; he doesn't care about the geopolitics of it. Though his perspective is still very elvish and he definitely will kill our beloved protagonists without hesitation if they seem like they're going to be a problem.

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I would read an entire novel about the formation of the halffoot union, honest to god. I bet it was very exciting. I bet someone tried to kill Chilchuck at least once.

[weirdestbooks]

Giving In (Wattpad | Ao3)

Bonus Oneshot for the Consequence of Loyalty

They were surrendering. Philippines knew it would come eventually, but that didn’t mean he hated it any less.

He didn’t want to give in. He didn’t want to stop fighting the puppet. It was a want, a need that burned through every fiber of his being, fueled him with rage and stubbornness, with defiance, with the ability to even throw off the puppet.

But the pain was too much, the power of the puppet state too strong. There wasn’t enough resistance to allow him to fight now that the Army had surrendered. Philippines knew it would not be the end of his people’s resistance, but no matter how hard they tried, Philippines could tell now that it would not be enough to allow him to fight.

He could barely move, only half aware of the things he said as he sent Kentucky away. But he did so and then sat down, closing his eyes so he would not have to see his men watch him succumb to the puppet.

He could barely stand the shame and humiliation himself. He hated having the pain in his head fade away, the stiffening of his limbs, and he lost the ability to do everything. He didn't want anyone else to see him this way. 

Philippines wasn’t sure how long he sat there, cross-legged, until he felt hands grab his shoulders and pull him upright. One of them forced his eyes open, and Philippines, now trapped behind the glassy eyes of a puppet, could do nothing about it. It was a Japanese soldier, eyes curious.

“It can’t do anything?” he asked the soldier beside him, who shook his head. Philippines wanted to grit his teeth and tell them that he was not an it, that he was a he and wanted to be addressed as such, but he could do nothing.

The worst part about their words, though, was the fact that they were speaking Japanese, a language that Philippines previously knew but not well.

Now, he heard it as if it were his first language. Japan has made her language his official language—another way to show her absolute control over him. Philippines hated him. He might not be able to control his body, but he could taste the hatred on his tongue.

“No, he can’t. He’s been put into this state to ensure that he can be taken back to his government and freed from the Ame-ko. It’s a precaution, as they don’t know how much control the United States had over him,” the other soldier said, “It’s only temporary until Nippon-sama can officially tell him that he is freed, like what she did with Manchukuo, and like what she is trying to do with China.”

Freed. Ha. This wasn’t freedom. She trapped him in a prison of his mind. Martial law would have been better. At least Philippines wouldn’t have to watch his body do all the things he never wanted to do while still being himself.

America wasn’t Philippines’ favorite person, but he was better than Japan, for he had never done this to Philippines.

“So…what do we do?” the first soldier asked.

“We take him back to Manila and hand him over to his government, where they will break the United States’ control over him. That is why he can’t move. The Ame-ko puppet state keeps him from moving, even though his flag has changed,” the second soldier said. 

Philippines didn’t know whether he felt like laughing or crying. America was the one who had him under his control? America was the one who forced the puppet state on him?

Oh, Japan knew how to lie. She really was becoming a proper empire. Not that the Spanish Empire could lie, but he was no less dangerous than the others.

“How do we move him?” the first soldier asked, moving to look Philippines in the eye, confusion in his eyes.

“We’re just taking him to the car, then he will be driven to Manila to reunite with his government,” the second soldier said, carefully taking Philippines by the arm and tugging him forward. Much to Philippines’ horror, his legs began moving, and guided by the soldiers, he was forced to walk towards a vehicle. 

Dammit! He had hoped that the nature of the puppet state’s control over him meant his legs wouldn’t move and that the two soldiers would have to struggle to drag him to the car. It would have only been a temporary delay, but it would have made Philippines feel a little bit better to know that he was still causing problems for them. 

Fate was not on his side.

Internally, as he could no longer do anything outside his own mind, Philippines sighed.

He had only given in a few moments ago, and it already felt too long.

He hoped America would come back soon. He didn’t know what he would do if he had to be under this government’s control for a long time.

He really, really didn't want to be.

But it’s not like he had a choice.

[scarlet--wiccan]

Oh, and for the record, I'm sick of people cherry-picking scenes to argue that Billy doesn't think of Wanda as his mother, or that she doesn't consider him & Tommy her sons. That is blatantly untrue.

In the early to mid 2010s, both Billy and Wanda express some trepidation about how they should relate to one another. This relationship is new, to both of them, and it takes some getting used to. This scene, from Young Avengers (2013), highlights that awkwardness in a way that feels, like, completely normal and understandable. This is his mom, but he already has a mom, so what does he call her? The same exact book refers to Wanda as his "real" mother, which is loaded, but the point is Gillen obviously wasn't trying to undermine that relationship, I think he was modeling after an adoptee meeting their birth parent, and all of the complexity that comes with the territory.

In Scarlet Witch #8, Wanda is expressing her grief and anxiety about her relationship with Billy and Tommy... TO HER THERAPIST. She exressly states that while she does love them, she doesn't feel totally comfortable around them, and is worried about the consequences of their unusual reincarnation.

In the years since, all of these characters have repeatedly referred to each other as family, even to other people, and expressed a clear sense of family loyalty and connection. Finding and saving Wanda was Billy's main motivation in the late 2010s-- you think he went through all of that in Children's Crusade, just to feel indifferent towards her?

These relationships are complicated, but I don't understand the point of being so cynical and weird instead of just leaning into the nuance and accepting that these people love each other?

[bimboficationblues]

I think that the “vote blue no matter who” disposition that has spread through American social liberals is honestly a fascinating psychological crisis and another instance of magical thinking at work. Trying to convince people to vote is one thing and at least makes some sense. Though given the frequent inarticulate, condescending approach I see so often, I think there’s a psychological urge to do this so that when they lose because their pitch is unappealing, inadequate, and anti-political, they can remain on moral high ground.

But the invocation often goes beyond that - any public critique of the Dems is considered counterproductive to the election, or at least requires a disclaimer that’s like “make sure you vote for them though!” (No concept of leverage at work here - promising your vote and demanding something in exchange for it are incompatible tactics.) And then, when Biden loses, it won’t be because of *the things that he did* which repelled people - it will be because not enough people listened to us, they willed failure into existence by talking about the problems.

“Vote blue no matter who” is not going to persuade Arab Americans whose family members are being murdered with US-funded munitions or disabled people left out to dry by an inadequate COVID response - this isn’t just a problem of Congressional deadlock, even in areas where Biden has meaningful power he has not used it well or in ways that will be lasting if, at any point, a Democrat is not elected President (which, uh, I think is a reasonable likelihood at some point). Getting the nickname “Genocide” is kind of not great for any political career - but confronting that reality would mean having to think up a new plan for making good things happen politically.

What the public performance of unflinching loyalty to the Democrats does do is absolve the speaker from having to confront that uncomfortable reality. It parallels the cultic or corporate invocation of “FUD” in order to tamp down internal dissent or flight; “actually, you can trust us, you should buy in, ignore your skepticism or critical thought - and if you don’t any consequences are your fault, not ours.” In a weird way, despite the catastrophic predictions, it’s a kind of toxic positivity: even if you vote you should otherwise remain silent on your criticisms or demands because those might convince someone else not to vote.

And I mean, this is all ignoring how utterly fucking repugnant it is to refocus conversations and activism around a US-financed ethnic cleansing back to the presidential election.

[softmeetscreatureplz]

Okay fuck it more Chuuya brainrot ideas of mine because fucking hell I cannot think around this shit

Chuuya Nakahara is host to a god, there is a god inhabiting his body 24/7, who can (most likely) see and hear whatever Chuuya can, right?

It's a known thing in religions that swearing a vow in front of a god is how it's taken seriously, and especially in the past when people would swear alligances, servitude, or loyalties, that doing so in front of a god was a way to be taken 100% seriously for life, and that making vow(s) like that were also for life unless specified otherwise.

Now picture this with me, please.

Chuuya Nakahara, finding the sheep while living on the streets- they take him in and help him, and in his gratitude, he promises to protect and take care of them forever. Little does he know, that he signs his fucking soul away like this, because the sheep don't know what he's saying- vowing really-, and Chuuya doesn't quite realize either.

Then, he meets Dazai. And Dazai is annoying and he hates him but he's also a weird guy and seems like he might be a bit fun to mess with, so he decides to follow the bastard.

Flash forward a bit; they're at the arcade and Chuuya makes a stupid- stupid bet.

And he loses.

Now, again, at this point in time, there are quite a few factors. Dazai is the newer vow, and despite what it seems like, doesn't actually order him around much at all, despite his teasing. Not only that, but Chuuyas promises are fundamentally differnt in wording; one to protect and help, the other to "serve and be a dog."

In any case, Chuuya keeps more of his free will, as a servent and protector. He keeps the sheep safe, and ignores his growing bond with the mafia boy.

Then the sheep betray him.

Chuuya is left with his active vow, the final if unsaid order, to die.

He pulls the knife out of his side, and gets ready for death- but that's not what happens.

No, instead, along comes Dazai, who reminds him of their bet and, however intentionally, reclaims that part of Chuuya that had given in to death.

Then he brings Chuuya to the Port Mafia, and Chuuya swears his loyalty again- this time to Mori.

Once again, he's safer now, because he has two people with control over him, except now he's starting to catch on.

Not only that, but Mori has suspicions as well.

Flash forward again; Dazai leaves the PM.

The worst thing he could have done to Chuuya- Dazai thought he was doing Chuuya a favor by not making him choose between loyalties; sure in his heart that if Chuuya wanted to leave he wouldn't care about the consequences and would just follow Dazai.

Instead, he dooms Chuuya to a life filled by orders solely from Mori and the PM.

If it wasn't for Chuuyas steadfast denials, the very bond of servitude would have been long dissolved as a result of Dazais action(s).

And Dazai never actually knowing this, that he is the reason Chuuya is alive and also still stuck in the PM.

[friendlylocalwhumper]

“Yes.” | “Kneel.” | Best of Three | Correspondence | Appraisal | Collapse | Cupcake | Foggy | Cracking | Just Breathe | Urge | Trim | Stupid | Upkeep | Old Defeat | Watching | Simple Loyalty | Overreaction | Set Up for Failure | Burning | Healed Wrong | Haunted | Boxes Buried | Heavy Blow | Loneliness

This, uh… owner? Isn’t all that bad. Could be a whole lot worse.

The hand sliding down his back isn’t welcome, but Major doesn’t fight it. He knows better. He knows better.

Shoulders angled down toward the floor an inch below them, dejected gray eyes locked onto a piece of dust just out of focus on the carpet, Major keeps from shaking off the touch. It’s not as creepy as it could be. Just seems to be, like… feeling along his spine as if checking for bruising on the piece of fruit he’s considering at the supermarket. Or checking out the ridges and valleys of his scars, but there’s no lingering fondles across the thick burn-ruined skin.

The smell of the guy’s breath hits him before the sound of his voice. Major holds his ground, only shifting to press his forehead to the floor as he listens. “I paid for one that leans into it. I won’t be all that hands-on, but still. I did pay for it.”

If he was in his right mind, Major would buck against that. Try to break the guy’s nose, maybe beat him for a while before killing him. But the warning, as polite as it might’ve been, hits like ice to his teeth. The training, with the gun and the consequences a split-second after each test… Major barely survived. He isn’t gonna fuck it up now. Especially not when he’s alone, bent down over his own knees, in some guy’s house.

The hand comes in for another swipe down his back, and this time Major arches up against it. Just slightly. It might not have been enough, he might be fucking up, there could be a gun held above his head where he can’t see it but he’ll hear the click of it, and… oh. He’s rewarded as if he was an eager purring cat, by an approving hum from above.

Disgust rises as goosebumps across his skin. But Major sinks down and feels his heartbeat thrumming in his temple after the terror of nearly disappointing the guy who… custom ordered a pissy, stubborn prisoner freshly trained to obey.

His mind goes blank, suddenly, when the guy ruffles his hair. Major doesn’t even fully register the condescending gesture, just lets his head be rocked back and forth with the rough petting to fried hair.

The voice, airy in a weird way, comes from higher above than Major was expecting. Thought the buyer would be leaning down close, but he’s up on one knee to rise, maybe. “Come on. Since you’re doing good enough. Got something to show you.”

The guy’s walking, and Major isn’t sure what to do. He’s scrambling up to follow, but a fog of stress locks his knees so he can’t stand. Is he… fuck, allowed to stand? To walk? Frozen by worry but spurred on by the fear of falling behind and breaking some unspoken rule, Major lurches forward on his hands and knees. No more goosebumps, no self-loathing curled tight in his stomach. The room feels cold when he goes numb and compliant.

The guy slows to a stop. When he turns to stare down at Major in bewilderment, it’s the first time Major sees him in full. He’s not… big. Slick black hair buzzed down on the sides and in the back. Tattoos across his face in swirling font that Major can’t read, a piercing in his nose. Which all would look tough, except there’s no real muscle on him, and even if there was it would be hard to see because the guy’s in a big sweater with a dress shirt poking out from under the sleeves and neckline.

Major swallows, trying to decide if the guy looks tough, or weak, or cool or lame. He’s distracted by a judgy scoff that sets his jaw clenching.

“What are you doing?” It’s not as mean as it could be, not cutting. Just too amused. “Crap, I didn’t think they were giving me one that thinks it’s a dog. Just walk.”

The words sting, through the numb distance he’d built up, and it’s more frustrating than it is humiliating. Major shoves himself upward and sways onto his feet, blinking against the odd waves of adrenaline and exhaustion.

“Just walk, we’re not… oh fu-... frick.” The buyer doubles back, hands raised and hurried. Major flinches back, eyes widening against the black fuzz swallowing his vision. He falls rapidly sideways, or upward, maybe… the world is spinning and he can’t figure out which way is down. He’ll be killed. He’s getting grabbed, fingers digging into his arms, he’s gonna die!

The room goes black, as pain erupts in his skull, and all sensations fade away.

[wilcze-kudly]

The parallels between Lin and Opal

Young Opal was more like Lin than Su. And theres actually a lot of similarities between Lin and Opal as an adult, too!

The greatest value for both Lin and Opal is loyalty. They're willing to disregard their own moral codes to defend those they see themselves as caring/ responsible for.

very weird that Opal wanting to break the oath to save her family from a ruthless dictator is seen as a bad thing while Lin breaking the law to save her subordinates from an insane cultist is cheered on but oh well we don't have time for the double standard rn

The parallels between Lin and Suyin's relationship and that of Opal and Kuvira have interested me for a while and I'm sure I've rambled about it many times already. And they're so obvious, but for some reason I only see people comparing Kuvira to Lin, which feels very surface level all things considered. Kuvira and Lin share their determination, however Opal is also prone to showing strong determination. I think most people just see Kuvira and Lin as "the loners of the family" or base the percieved similarities only off of both Kuvira and Lin being "against" Su.

Opal and Lin, however have very similar arcs.

Both Lin and Opal dealt with having their needs sidelined and their hurt dismissed by their mothers in favour of the troubled kid who acted out with no consequences. Suyin's 'soft spot' for Kuvira is an interesting parallel between her and Toph which makes sense. Suyin's whole thing is second chances. She jumped at the opportunity of taking Kuvira back in.

Despite both being harmed and neglected by their mothers, Opal and Lin do both strive to please their mothers, believing that this will win them more of the affection they so desperately crave. Here, their paths divide significantly. For Lin, it's a straightforward "I'll be just like my mom, so she'll be proud of me" thing.

Opal, however was born a nonbender, and was unable to fully live up to what her mother might want of her. This also adds to the tension between Opal and Kuvira. It would be easy for a young Opal to see Kuvira, a talented metalbender, getting taken into the family sort of like having a replacement brought in. I'd be mad too.

Opal tries to please her mom in other ways, for example keeping herself from going to the Air Temples, despite this being something she so desperately wants.

Lin even notices this and talks to her about it. (I adore Lin and Opal's relationship 😊 Lin is so awkward and doing her best Awwww)

The one huge difference between Lin and Opal is their relation to family. Lin is an outsider, while Opal was very closely tied to her family. I find it interesting that Old Wounds (while not handling the Beifongs the best) has Lin and Opal 'moving' in seperate directions. Lin starts reconnecting with her family, while Opal finally flies the coop. Its fascinating to see how Lin's isolation and Opal's assimilation set them on different paths in life, yet ultimately still allowed them to be incredibly similair personalitywise.

I really like their bond and find it absolutely delicious how Lin and Suyin's unresolved trauma skipped down a generation.

Opal is one of my favourite characters of the legend of korra and I find that the fandom often does her a disservice. I've also never seen her very obvious connection to Lin explored.