#when he's the caretaker regardless when / where he's needed and for what purpose.

[nonsupe-a]

i think its sexy of people to love shiloh in his most “violent” era tbh

#right after injection up until the last half of season two. #when he's boots on the ground regardless what the orders are. #when he's the caretaker regardless when / where he's needed and for what purpose. #people loving shiloh despite his work life. how little he's actually willing to talk about it to those who are so outside of vought #that to them its just another cooperation. #people loving shiloh even when he comes home smelling like death at 3-4am #that stay with him even through those times he's gone for up to a month without a word #that look forward to him showing up at some point and knows that he either can't or won't talk about work because #the second he steps through that door he's so far separated from vought that it basically no longer exists until the next day #when he gets up and repeats the process sometimes. #people that love him even when he's a scary mystery #when half of the people that work with him don't really know who he is or what he can do #when he's that guy the news is talking about without really talking about him. that guy thats keeping supes in check. #SEXY SEXY SEXY #anyway this is a paragraph and a half kjgn

[junowritings]

Hi friend, I hope I'm not bothering you. I stumbled across your twisted wonderland writings a little bit ago and fell in love with them. They're so good! I was wondering if you could do an angst comfort imagine with Jamil or Kalim where MC overblots? In game, Crowley piles so much work on poor MC, along with MC being the college's resident problem solver, and some of the students have called them worthless due to their inability to cast magic. I was wondering if you could play around with that idea? Regardless, thank you for doing what you do! Hope you have a lovely day.

Hiyya friend thank you for the love <3 I'm glad you've been having fun with these~! I'll admit this started off as a little thing but then the overblot brainrot kicked in thinking about the effects of blot on a non magic user and it spiraled from there lmao. Please do enjoy this though I had a bunch of fun giving my Scarabia boys some love,even if it is filled with angst!

The realization of what’s happening comes too late, as it always does. 

Eyes have been everywhere, watching your every move since you clawed your way from that coffin into this twisted wonderland. And each of them have expected something from you, saw fit to use you and take advantage of your situation for their own gains. Making yourself useful seemed to be the only way you could earn any modicum of respect, and so the pressure mounted and mounted as every day saw you taking on more responsibilities than you could handle. But you’d been so hopeful that it wouldn’t be that way forever - things would get easier, and you only needed to put up with the pressure until you got home; Crowley promised you that the day you enrolled at the school, and he wouldn’t lie when he was the only one capable of making that a reality, right?Right?

You should never have believed him; maybe that would have saved you.

This shouldn’t have been possible; with no magic to your name or even a magical presence to call your own the thought of you of all people overblotting was laughable, some cruel joke that was humored for the few seconds before you were deemed magicless, and thus no longer a concern. And yet the impossible pools at your feet and clings to your skin and clothes like a parasite as your brain spirals into a frenzy. All you can think about is what they’ve done to you, what they made you do. You were so useless to all of these people until you had some kind of purpose to serve, was that it? Running their errands; being a personal therapist and caretaker to so many dorms when you were still nursing your own wounds; having to take care of everyone else's problems only to return to your dilapidated corpse of a dorm at the end of the day. 

Perhaps it’s the stress, the mental fatigue drawing in all of that leftover magical waste with nowhere to go that accumulated the blot, allowing it to take root after months of being subjected to the worst that magic could do. It’s there which it festered until the pressure became too great, until it now seeps through your bones, your eyes, your fingertips in thick, viscous globs of ink for all to see. And from that blot comes the monster, a patchwork mockery of all of those overblots you’ve dealt with before taking shape of your deepest insecurities and regrets; and your own despondent sobs are drowned out by the screams of its birth as it rises to its full height, writhing and looming overhead.

But it’s imperfect; with no stable magic source to siphon its energy from the blotted creature latched onto you fights only to stay alive. The noises it releases are distorted, a hollow rattle that has the students taking an unconscious step back as a chill settles in the air. Many were smart enough to flee, yet there are those that stay, either foolish or frozen in fear at the sight in front of them.

You’re conscious, barely, the remaining dregs fading in and out of your control as your eyes, half blinded by the inky mass that pours from the blotted thing above you scans the sea of horrified faces. Friends, dormmates, and finally….

…Jamil

♡ Jamil feels the rush of students tripping over themselves to flee, can hear the screams of people too confused or too terrified to understand the impossibility of the situation, but his focus is trained solely on you and the thing that leeches off of you to stay alive. He watches it twist, heaving ink as it takes a defensive stance ready to attack anything that tries to get in its way. Your friends around you all make vain attempts to reach out to you; Ace and Deuce are frantically screaming out for you as they bat away an onslaught of inky limbs, and Grim gets close enough to barely brush your shoulder with his paw before the frantic swipe of the creature nearly sends him careening back in a torn mess had Jack not yanked him back to safety.

♡ For that moment he takes in the scene unfolding in front of him, watching the person who has fought to earn his respect and gain his trust being taken over by the flood of bottled up emotions preyed upon by the blot, and it hits him. Is this what you’d seen during his overblot? Is this how you felt seeing the person you cared for being reduced to a shadow of their deepest hatred and pains? If he closes his eyes he can vaguely recall the horrified look on your face in the muddled memories from his own overblot, but there’s no time to dwell, no time to panic, or scream, or cry when the most important thing is separating you from the blot and making sure you survive. And so he takes a steadying breath, steeling his resolve and shelving his emotions until you’re freed.

♡ Your friends are already mounting an offensive against the overblot and Jamil is right there in stride acting as a defensive force for those better equipped to attack. Each hit has the beast screaming, chunk by chunk being wrested away from its patchwork frame that’s barely holding itself together as is. Your screams echo along with it, only making the fight harder as hesitation hits your friends, Jamil himself almost making the mistake of stepping towards you before catching himself and refocusing on the fight at hand.

♡ He’d caught glimpses of the strain your situation had forced you under, he’d be a fool not to have noticed the pressure you’d been settled with. He knows the pressure well, having to play the part and live your life restricted by the whims of others. And yet every time he’d reached out to you, pulled you to the side away from prying eyes you’d only smiled and told him that you were fine, even if the sallow eyes and the constant tremble in your hands screamed otherwise. Jamil should have never taken you at your word, so sure that if whatever you were dealing with became overwhelming you would open up to someone - open up to him - before it was too much. Who could have ever imagined that it would get to this point? Jamil feels a sickness welling in the pit of his stomach just thinking about it, and the momentary lapse in attention nearly costs him a limb as a writhing hand slams down at his side when the overblot monster lunges forward, warbled voice screaming “-𝔸𝕎𝔸𝕐...𝔾𝔼𝕋 𝔸𝕎𝔸𝕐-!” again and again.

♡ Your overblot fights harder than anything they’ve faced before, even as the half formed twitching mass of energy that it is. Like an animal caged and surrounded it’s got no qualms pulling every ounce of power it can muster to ensure its survival even if it means turning you into little more than a husk. All it takes is watching you crumble, heaving and choking on some invisible force that saps everything from you for everything to finally snap. Whatever strength the creature pulls from you isn’t enough to keep it standing, and no sooner have you dropped the blot caves in on itself, still reaching out to you for more even in its final moments. In the wake of its dissipation the air is thick with an unspoken pressure, and the remaining students even torn up and bruised all make a beeline for your crumpled body, surrounding you in a wall of frantic calls of your name. 

♡There’s a lump in his throat as Jamil approaches the crowd, elbowing his way between Ace and Deuce kneeling before you. His breathing all but stops at the glimpses he catches of you among the hands cradling you, body limp as the remaining blot flakes from your skin and turns to whisps. Those seconds last for an eternity, bated breaths unwilling to ask the question that’s burning on everyone’s tongue. 

♡Are you…?

♡The next moment you’re gasping for air, rocketing up and narrowly missing headbutting the vice dormhead as you all but throw yourself up to retch. You miss the collective breath that everyone releases as the world starts to turn once again, relief flooding the atmosphere now that the imminent danger has passed. Someone mentions making sure you’re taken to the infirmary and Jamil can practically see the cogs turning in your head as you panic, finally coming back to your senses. You insist that you can take yourself there, scrambling groggily to your feet and shaking away the mass of hands supporting you only to immediately buckle the second your feet touch the floor. 

♡How lucky you are that Jamil catches you before you fall, one arm firmly gripping your elbow and the other pressed against your back to make sure you don’t try getting away on your own again. Surprisingly you don’t argue, in fact you hardly even say a word as Jamil whisks you away from the crowd; the silence is only broken on the walk there when Jamil has to stop you from nearly bucking again. You’re gripping his jacket for support when you ask “Did I hurt them?” focused on your hand wrapped into the fabric and not willing to look at him. There’s a pause, and Jamil watches your knuckles turning pale from your grip like you’re afraid of the answer. “It takes more than that to hurt any of those guys;They’ll be fine.” 

♡ Whether it’s the answer you wanted or not your grip loosens on his jacket but never truly lets go the entire walk there even as the infirmary sign comes into view around the corner. There’s no saying what effect the overblot had on you both physically and mentally, so the staff are on high alert as soon as you’re led into the infirmary. The nurse tries to take you off of his hands but you’re still holding onto Jamil for support and he’s quick to take the lead in getting you onto the bed so you can finally be seen to.

♡Jamil only allows the gravity of the situation to hit him once you’re in the capable hands of NRC medical staff, giving you some space to recover without being hounded by people as he tries to collect his thoughts. A part of him wants to stay there with you, especially with the way you’re so reluctant to let go of him during the initial checkup, but you’re drained both physically and mentally and need time to rest, and he needs to start picking up the pieces of the aftermath.

♡ The work keeps Jamil’s mind occupied, and provides a welcome buffer to the what ifs that are already beginning to creep in. But the moment he’s given a moment to finally rest it’s like all his energy’s been drained, using the nearest surface to keep himself upright as the events of the day finally fully sink in. You’ll live but all he can think about is what if you hadn’t; those few seconds where you weren’t moving, repeating over again and again. It’s an image that’s burned into his brain no matter how much he loathes having it there, and it forces his feet to move without thinking, heading straight back to the infirmary where he’d left you. Jamil needs to see that you’re really there, that you’re really safe in that bed and not taken whole by that creature again, and it’s something he finds himself doing long afterwards if only to set his own nerves at ease.  

…Kalim

♡ Kalim is horrified to see what’s happening to you, watching the creature that rises from your barely standing form like it’s tearing itself free from your very shadow. For a split second it’s as though he’s back at Scarabia watching his childhood friend overcome the overblot and change right before his eyes. That familiar chill of fear that he’s hoped to never have to experience again hits him square in the chest and his entire body goes cold as the reality of the situation settles with the wheezing howl that the overblot creature lets loose into the air. 

♡ Even though he can see it with his own eyes it’s almost impossible to come to terms with the fact that this is you. The one who always went out of your way to help people, who was so kind and there for everyone to help deal with their problems with hardly ever a thanks in return - there’s no way that the trembling, half coherent body looking out at the world with nothing but hatred burning behind ink stained eyes is really you. But it is, and there’s a beat, a split second where your eyes meet his and that anger flickers to grief, a lapse of the real you looking back at him before the hatred consumes you once again.

♡ It’s hard to think straight, and Kalim’s got little concern for his own safety as he joins Ace, Deuce and Grim in trying to reach out to you however pointless it may seem. He has to reach you, has to get to you somehow to make sure that you’re safe and get you away from that thing; he has to-!

♡ There’s a whoosh of air barely inches from his face, and Kalim only has a second to process the mangled claw that makes a swipe for him before there’s a hand winding into the back of his clothes , pulling him back into the dirt before those claws can bury themselves into his skull. It's enough to shock him back into the present moment, only now hearing the panicked voices of his friends and classmates as the chaos unfolds; there’s others here, and every single one of them is in danger the longer that this overblot is free to wreak havoc onto its new domain.

♡He hesitates to fight you - he just can’t bring himself to do anything that risks hurting you even though he knows that standing by and doing nothing it’s only going to make the problem worse. So he calls out to you, shouting your name with a near frantic desperation begging you to come to your senses even as the creature you’ve summoned continues it’s assault, gouging into the earth in its attempts to get at him with half formed joints. His cries are drowned out by the overblot monster’s screams, garbled words sounding like white noise ringing in the air only ever cut off when a sudden blast of magic from behind Kalim has the beast reeling. 

♡Your friends round up to make a wall effectively creating a barrier between it and the students, their faces grave as they realize what it’s going to take to make sure everyone gets out of this situation alive. The last thing he sees before they close in is you, the blot still dripping down your face as you let out an enraged scream, the months of bottled up emotions sending goosebumps up Kalims skin before you disappear back into the overblot’s hold.

♡Hesitating will only result in you getting more hurt, so Kalim tries to pour his focus onto helping elsewhere. Hoisting himself to his feet he takes charge in making sure that everyone not directly involved in the fight has a clear path to get to safety, ensuring that the debris scattering through the air never has a chance of hitting any of the students and causing more damage. All the while he’s fighting not to be distracted by the sounds of fighting - the gurgling of the overblot, the shouts of everyone co-ordinating together and struggling to turn the tide of the fight. He can’t allow himself to think too hard about what’s happening to you; the people he’s helping are looking to him as dorm leader to keep them safe and get them out of there, and if he thinks about it for too long he knows he’s going to slip up and someone’s going to end up hurt or worse. 

♡ A bloodcurdling howl brings everything to a standstill, and all at once something snaps in the air, the pressure on the back of Kalim’s skull dissipating as the blot that has soaked into every corner of the area breaks apart and disappears, no longer held together by magic. That means only one thing, and Kalim immediately drops everything that he’s doing to get back to where you are. The terrain is a mess and he trips up more than a few times on the huge chunks torn out of the earth beneath his feet as he grows more desperate to see you, to get to you. 

♡His heart drops into his stomach once he finds you through the sea of people who were fighting you not moments before, now crowded around you in a protective circle. You’re curled up on yourself, unresponsive and Kalim immediately sinks down onto his knees in front of you, not caring for the last broken pieces of the overblot that try to claw at legs for purchase even as it sinks back into the mindless puddle of waste it came from. Hands trembling, Kalim holds you as close to him as he can, wide eyes scanning your face for any sign of reaction, a sign that you’re back. The time stretches on and he feels his throat burn the longer you go without waking up; he’s here, calling your name over and over again, can’t you hear him? It’s okay to wake up now, everyone’s safe! You're okay right?... right?!

♡A groan cuts his thinking off, and there’s no holding back the sob he almost chokes on when you finally come to. You’re blinking away the haze that’s making your head pound and finally make out his face, caked in mud and debris and smeared with stark tear tracks as he cries. You bring a hand up to try and wipe away the tears and grime but that only makes him cry harder, though you don’t have time to feel bad before he’s pulling you even closer, pressing your face against his shoulder and wrapping his arms around you so tight that your ribs groan in protest. It’s not like you have the heart to push him away though - you’re so tired and drained and all you can think about is how glad you are that he’s here as you zone in and out of him gushing about how he’s so glad that you’re going to be okay.

♡Kalim refuses to let you go even as the others begin to crowd around to check on you for themselves; now that this is all over the last thing he wants to do is leave you on your own again much to the frustration of Grim and your other friends. It takes Jamil stepping in and none too subtly warning him that there’s a chance you’re still suffering from complications unless you get to a nurse and find out for sure before he relents, but even then he’s going right with you to the infirmary, taking a seat right next to the bed you’re propped up in and holding your hand and supporting you through the entire checkup.

♡All he can focus on is how tired you look, the exhaustion palpable now that the blot has washed away from your skin and clothes. He knows that it isn’t from the blot though; Kalim may be naive but he knows you were suffering before the overblot overwhelmed you. He’d tried so hard to help - offered you to stay at Scarabia any time you needed a break, insisted that you could always rely on him for anything, to tell him anything, just say it and he’ll be there! And yet it wasn’t enough to save you from all of this, and he can’t help but feel guilty that he couldn’t help you when you needed him the most…♡ You have to convince him not to call in the best doctors from back home just to come and see you the second the nurses are finished with their tests, insisting that he really doesn’t need to go that far despite his protests that he wants to make sure that you’re really okay. He’s already rattling off about how things are going to be better once you’re all healed up - he’ll come to see you everyday, of course, and he’ll make sure to bring plenty of things to keep you happy so that you can focus on resting and feeling better! It’s almost enough to forget the fact that everything that happened wasn’t just some dream your stress addled mind conjured up; however, even so exhausted you don’t miss the concern hiding behind his seemingly carefree smile, grip on your hand squeezing every once in a while as though to reassure himself that you’re both still here - he hasn’t lost you yet.

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst #twisted wonderland #scarabia #kalim x reader #kalim al asim x reader #twst kalim #twst jamil #jamil x reader #imagines #twst imagines #twst overblot #angst #no one's having a good time here #but at least everyone's alive for now lmao #it's midnight so there's more than a few mistakes but i love this thank you for the request mwah

[imdoingaokay]

I have an idea! The romanced companions reacting to female sole survivor dying during combat!

(A/N): I know, I know, you all missed me. I missed you too haha.

I'm sorry for the long wait, I promise it wasn't on purpose. As I've said before, I am in nursing school, which makes getting out a stuff super difficult. But I love you guys and I love writing!

Sole was written as Gender Neutral, love you <3

Anyways, enjoy my garbage, I wrote this during my class hehehe

SUPER HUGE TW FOR THE FOLLOWING: Descriptions of death, death in general, nothing too graphic (but still), and plenty of angst

Cait: She can’t help but feel terrible like she failed Sole. It doesn’t help that she was right there when it happened.

Watching Sole slump down, hearing their breathing slow until they completely stilled. It was a feeling she had grown used to, but not one she wished to revisit.

She doesn’t know what to do, so she does what she thinks is best. She buries Sole unless Sole specified they wanted their body burned or something. She tells the Minutemen, The Railroad, Brotherhood, or the Insitute, whoever needs to be informed, and then she leaves. She never really thought she was worthy of Sole, regardless of whether they were a “good” or “bad” person, so she leaves as soon as possible. 

She tries her best to stay away from drugs and alcohol. But, realistically? If Sole dies? There’s a solid chance she throws herself back in unless Sole was with the Minutemen or the Railroad and set up a grief group before they passed.

Romanced, Cait is still in pain, still mourning, but it hurts more. She finally had something good, something healthy, and it was ripped away from her. Cait stays wherever had become Sole’s home, and sort of adopts a caretaker role, she works alongside the settlement workers. She tries to honor Sole’s memory, whatever it may have been. She never really moves on, but she forgives herself. And she thinks that’s what Sole would’ve wanted.

Curie: In absolute agony. She tries her best, really tries to stitch Sole up to the best of her abilities. But as she watches Sole slip away, Curie knows she can’t do anything. Not like it makes it any easier.

Curie uses Sole’s pip-boy and begs for backup, begging for help to get Sole’s body out of range. Eventually, when some help does arrive, Curie is hysterical. She can’t seem to forgive herself for her mistakes, despite not making any. She returns to Sole’s home and decides to leave soon after. Curie still feels the guilt of not being able to save Sole, so she decides to help others. Curie slowly turns a name, a mysterious doctor who appears around the Commonwealth, treats patients, then leaves, and the cycle continues. Curie can’t forgive herself for failing her friend, but she can make up for her mistakes by helping others.

Romanced, Curie may settle instead. Choosing to stay where both she and Sole called home. She becomes the Settlement’s doctor and becomes a very good one at that. She isn’t as bubbly as she once was, just more reserved.

Danse: No, no, no! Danse sprints over to Sole, and despite his power armor, he moves relatively fast. He uses his power armor to block Sole’s body from any potential projectiles. Danse picks up his friend, praying they’re still alive, and flees. 

Once in a safe area, Danse lays his friend down and realizes… they’re gone. Sole gave Danse a second chance at life after Danse himself was convinced he didn’t deserve it, and now they were gone. How does that happen? He can’t find it in him to cry, he frowns deeply and picks up his friend again, now returning Sole to wherever or whoever needed them, needed Sole’s body. And Danse will take Sole anywhere if they need. The Railroad, Institute… preferably to the Minutemen, however.

He even takes Sole’s body to Cambridge Police Station if Sole was loyal to The Brotherhood. 

Once Sole’s body has been delivered, Danse returns to Listening Post Bravo. And for the first time, he weeps. He’s lost so many, and it seems like he’s always the one left behind.

He’ll leave the Commonwealth, and go somewhere, anywhere, probably out west. He fights ghouls and super mutants, mindlessly shooting until he can’t anymore.

Romanced, it’s worse, it’s so much worse. Danse screams Sole’s name, sprints over, and takes them to cover. Danse gets out of his armor and cradles his lover, he begs, screams, and pleads with whatever god he can to save his lover. But it’s too late, Sole is gone. And Danse is alone.

Danse returns his lover’s body but doesn’t leave wherever they are buried. He stays, becoming a farmer and working his heart out for whatever Settlement Sole had claimed as theirs. Danse thinks that Sole would want him to be happy, and would want him to move on. But Danse can’t do that. He loves Sole too much to move on. But he continues living, and living is good enough.

Deacon: Deacon isn’t a very serious guy, but the moment he sees Sole fall, he’s the most serious man he knows. Deacon shoots any enemies nearby and quickly rushes over to Sole. He shakes his friend, begging them to wake up, but after a few seconds, he realizes that Sole is dead. His friend is dead. Per Railroad guidelines, Sole is supposed to be left behind at least, buried in an unmarked grave at best. So why does Deacon hesitate? Why does he carefully carry Sole back to their home a bury them properly? Respect? Compassion? Adoration? Nobody knows, Deacon always changes his story.

Sole becomes just another body, another story, one he might tell to the next doomed soul he meets. But honestly? Deacon doesn’t expect to live long enough for that.

Romanced, Deacon is immediately by his lover's side, he holds his lover as tightly as he can and attempts to stop the blood and comfort his lover, but as soon as they still, as soon as they go limp, Deacon breaks. He silently holds them and takes them home. He’ll probably still work for the Railroad, work helping Synths until they don’t need him anymore, but he isn’t the same. He’s so much sadder and so quiet. He’s effective and gets the job done, but when Sole died, so did a bit of Deacon.

Gage: Furious at first, how dare Sole die? How dare they die right here? How dare they leave him alone? At the start of their friendship, he would’ve been slightly annoyed, but Gage and Sole have been friends for longer. And now, he’s alone. He barred his heart, he told them everything about themselves, and now Sole is just gone, his friend is just… gone. He does what he has to do, and gives them a burial, potentially somewhere other than in Nuka-World. After that, he takes up the mantle of Overboss, not happily, don’t get me wrong. He would much rather avoid that role, but Sole was the best one the raiders had, and nobody else will be able to measure up to them. At least, with Gage, he can try to emulate Sole’s leadership. And he’ll do a pretty good job. Or at least, he’ll try until someone comes along and kills him. He’s fine with either.

Romanced, he sprints to his lover’s side, he holds them while they bleed out, “Alright, you’re fine. You’re fine, Sole.” He claims as if that will magically close the gaping wound in Sole’s side. He watches Sole slip away from his grasp and slowly break out into tears. He didn’t remember the last time he cried it was probably when he still lived with his parents. He feels ashamed for his softness while he sobs into his lover’s neck, feeling Sole’s body turn cold. But after his lover is buried, he refuses ever to cry again, deciding to harden himself for the rest of his life, however long it is.

He becomes Overboss, does his job, and waits… waits for his end. And when his end happens, he hopes it’s quick and hopes Sole will wait for him on the other side.

Hancock: He lies to himself, and says that Sole isn’t dead, they’re just knocked out. But the blood and the stillness of their body tells Hancock that his buddy is gone.

After burying or burning the body, Hancock returns to Goodneighbor and holes himself up in the Statehouse. Hancock always knew he would most likely outlive Sole, but he hoped it would be different. He hoped Sole would be an old man or woman, that they’d die peacefully after puffing some jet with Hancock. But the Wasteland is cruel, and it takes the best people away, just because it can.

He gets word that a few of the people in Goodneighbor want to set up a small memorial to Sole, and Hancock is more than happy to help. He keeps living, he’s certain that’s what Sole wants. He never gets that close to anyone again, not because he’s trying to guard himself, he just can’t find the time. He walks around the Commonwealth, throwing himself into helping everyone, that’s what Sole did. So without Sole, someone else has to pick up the “slack” so to speak. And he’s fine with that, hopefully, Sole is too. 

Romanced, he does his best to keep a brave face for Sole, sharing a final kiss before Sole eventually succumbs to their injuries. He cries for a while and throws himself into more chems. It’s Fahrenheit who encourages Hancock to get out of the Old State House and to go for a walk around Goodneighbor. He goes out on the balcony first and notices how bright it is outside. The past month had been fairly cloudy and gloomy, so Hancock stands there, feeling the sun on his face. He’s not very religious, but that warm feeling… it had to be a sign that Sole loves him, wherever they are, Sole loves him.

He never loves another again, not how he loved Sole, but he will keep living. He’ll keep going until the day comes when he and Sole see each other again. 

MacCready: He’s upset, for lack of a better word, so upset he ends up cursing for the first time in years. He grabs at his friend and clings to them, attempting to help them. But eventually, he has to face the music. They’re gone, and he’s alone. Unlike what he did with Lucy, MacCready brings Sole back, back to their home… wherever that might be. He’ll travel the entire length of the Commonwealth if it means that Sole will get a proper burial.

He’ll end up leaving, if Duncan hasn’t joined him in the Commonwealth, thinking that the Commonwealth has nothing left for him anymore. If Duncan has arrived in the Commonwealth, MacCready ends up retiring from mercenary work permanently. He’ll end up working as a guard in Sanctuary, working nights. It makes it easier to care for Duncan when he’s with him during the day. MacCready focuses on Duncan and Duncan alone, with no time for anything else.

Romanced, he’s a mess. He cries and clings onto Sole, begging them to wake up. But he knows it’s over. He mourns his lover, hauling their body to the pair’s shared home, and buries his lover despite the sadness he feels. Unlike if they were just friends, MacCready stays in The Commonwealth, bringing Duncan if he isn’t there already. He works as a guard, but refuses to ever love again, after all… nobody can measure up to Sole or Lucy. His life surrounds his son, and the memory of Sole. He feels terrible if Duncan never got a chance to meet Sole, but he tries to tell stories of them. 

He’s a good man, he tells himself. So he stays alive, for the sake of his son… and for the sake of Sole. Sole would want him to… right?

Nick Valentine: Nick comforts, if he can. He soothes his friend as much as possible. Talking to them as they bleed out. If he knows he can’t help, he just stays nearby and talks with his friend. Like Hancock, Nick expected to outlive Sole, but not like this. Nick watches his friend leave their world and prays they go to a better one. 

He covers Sole with his coat out of respect.  Hell, he ends up burying his friend in that coat. He doesn’t mind losing it, Sole deserves something to keep them warm under the 6 feet of earth.

He’ll continue to work, but he does his best to keep his memories of Sole, copying them from his subconscious and placing them on a holotape. Nick doesn’t want to forget them, not someone who did so much for him.

He’s so used to people leaving him, so used to the cruelty of the wasteland, but… 

Why Sole?

Romanced, Nick does much of the same, but he cradles his lover, holding and soothing Sole the best he can. But even if he can’t prevent his voice from cracking and breaking, he watches his lover go limp and does his best to return the body somewhere his lover can be properly buried.

He mourns, turning off the neon sign in Diamond City for well over a month. When it does come back on, Nick is back to work, still polite, cordial, and friendly. But everyone can’t help but feel the sadness in his eyes

It’s strange, he thinks. As time goes on, Nick’s memories come and go, but Sole’s memory stays. Maybe the “real” Nick Valentine, could only love Jenny, but Nick can only love Sole. And that sort of love stays, despite the space of an old synth’s hard drive.

Old Longfellow: He calls out for Sole, seeing them hurt breaks his heart. 

“No, kid… no you gotta get up, come on.” He tries to lift them, only to place them back down when he hears the pained cry of his chil-I mean… Sole.

He tries his best, but even he realizes there’s nothing he can do. He comforts them in their last moments, realizing that despite dying, Sole is trying to keep him calm. If he has one, he’ll share a drink with Sole, and watch as Sole breathes for the last time.

He’ll bury Sole on the mainland unless Sole says otherwise. But when Longfellow returns to his Cabin, he finds himself wondering what is next. He hoped it would be him to die first… he was supposed to die first. It was his fault, he didn’t do enough, and he should’ve taken the blow.

He sits on his bed, and for the first time in what feels like ages, he cries. Only to still himself a few moments later, he can’t cry. He has to move on, has to keep living.

He’ll keep living, wondering if he’ll die that day or the next, but he doesn’t mind either.

Longfellow works with Far Harbor more, now. Helping Synths pass through the fog with his help, if he can. He thinks Sole would approve.

Hopefully, he’ll meet someone who he can teach again. Someone younger… maybe that synth child Sole spoke to him about.

Romanced, he realizes that Sole needs him to calm down much faster. But he can’t help but admit to his lover before they go that it was his fault. He’ll never forget his lover smiling and cupping his cheek, feeling how warm it felt on his prickling beard. And he’ll never forget how they smiled and shook their head, in pain, but smiling. And all of a sudden, Longfellow feels some closure.

The rest of it moves the same, he continues to help and continues to live. But he’ll never love again, nobody else is like Sole, and even if there was… he doesn’t want them. Longfellow will always want Sole, not someone like them. And when the day comes when he returns to the sea or the dirt, he’ll embrace that with open arms… the way he hopes Sole will embrace him when they see each other once again.

Piper: Piper cries out “Blue?!” over and over again until her throat is raw, she shakes her friend, begging her friend to wake up. But Sole is dead. And that’s it.

She buries her friend the best she can, but when she returns home, she finds herself wondering what she should do next. So she does what she does best.

She writes.

Piper writes the most beautiful story about Sole, but it isn’t some sob story or some heroic tale. She tells the truth. She describes the story of Sole’s life after The Great War, and she writes the tale of Sole navigating through the post-apocalyptic world, how they won, and how they lost. And how despite it all, Sole persevered, and even when they were on death’s door… Well, maybe Piper does play Sole’s life up a little bit.

Regardless, Sole gets one hell of a send-off.

Piper continues writing, focusing on what matters to her.

Romanced, she does everything the exact same. She cries harder and writes faster, but most people in Diamond City agree, Piper isn’t the same. She’s still got that strong sense of justice, she will still do whatever it takes to get a story. But she takes more time off, spends more time with her sister, she lives. Because she’s certain that’s what Sole would want her to do. 

Preston: He does what he can at first, he picks his friend up and tries to get them away. But when Preston looks down and watches his friend grow weaker and weaker, he accepts it, he accepts that this is the end of The General. Preston brings Sole’s body back and gives them a proper funeral. 

He apologizes to his friend's grave, claiming it should’ve been them instead, tears gathering in his eyes. He knew he would cry over his friend, but not this hard. He’s adopted the role of General, he’s certain that Sole would’ve wanted that. He also adopts their leadership skills and learns how to grow the settlements. He’ll do his best, and he’ll be the best General he can be.

General Garvey has a nice ring to it anyways.

Romanced, he’s distraught. He clings to his lover and drags them home. At first, he can’t stop his tears. He begs his lover to come back, begs whatever god there is to take him instead, but Sole’s gone. Eventually, when the calls for help become too much, and when he can’t ignore them anymore, Preston dons the name of General. 

He continues to do his best and he’ll stay alive for as long as possible, for the sake of the Commonwealth… and for Sole’s sake too.

X6-88: He calls out for Sole, a few times. It doesn’t make sense to him, Sole isn’t supposed to bleed. He tries to give them stimpacks, but the blood… it’s too much. 

Sole may try to comfort X6, maybe try to stop him, but X6 can’t seem to stop trying to save them. But after Sole goes limp, after Sole goes cold, X6 realizes what he has done. 

He takes them back to The Insitute, waiting for reprimand, for something. If Father is still alive, he watches as the older man sighs and orders for the body to be taken away. Father watches X6 before asking, in a confused tone “Why are you crying?”

X6’s fingers go to his cheeks, where he feels the wetness from his tears. Quickly wiping them away, he apologizes and returns to his duties. But all of a sudden, he’s emotional? He thinks about Sole, how they acted toward others… X6 liked them... X6 admired them. X6 actually misses them. But he isn’t supposed to feel that way, not towards anyone. So why does he feel this way for Sole?

It takes him time, and he eventually comes to the realization that X6 feels this way because… he cared. He cared for Sole, and Sole cared for him. And maybe that makes him faulty and maybe that makes him a terrible Courser. But X6 can’t seem to care, not for that. 

Romanced, X6 probably had more time to work on his emotions, and more time to work on his outlook on just about everything. So when Sole dies, he knows that the reason he is crying is that he loved them. And X6… actually doesn’t mind that. He gets curious one day and reads a few books, and even overhears a few others speak, and over time, heals himself. He lives, works, and does what he needs to do because when the day comes, and he dies, he’s fine with it all. The love he had for Sole was real, and that’s worth something, isn’t it?

#cait fallout 4 #fallout cait #cait #curie fallout 4 #fallout 4 curie #danse #paladin danse #porter gage #john hancock #hancock #maccready #robert maccready #nick valentine #old longfellow #fo4 piper #fo4 preston #preston garvey #preston #fo4 x6 88 #x6 88 #fallout 4 x6 88 #fallout 4 companions #fallout 4 #fallout

[fortpeat]

Last Twilight EP11 thoughts

The thing is Day breaking up with Mhok was completely understandable. Was it needed. No. But does it make sense with his character. Yes it does. (Here's my two cents)

In EP11 we saw a version of Mhok that hasn't been explored yet. The version that is still grieving over the loss of his big sister.  Something I wish this show explored way early but it is what it is. Anyway we saw how distracted Mhok can get when he gets to know about the accident of the guest and how he can't focus on the job until he gets to see Day with his own eyes. Up until this episode we saw Mhok being confident in Day's ability in taking care of himself. He was always around Day like a shadow ready to step in when necessary and I think this is the version of Mhok that Day himself saw. The version that doesn't pity Day and believes in his capabilities. So in this episode we saw the Mhok that was terrified of losing Day or Day getting hurt in his absence. The Mhok that is grieving over his sister and feels immense guilt for ignoring his sister's call that night.

Mhok has been putting that grief and trauma on the back burner and completely focused on taking care of Day until now and when he doesn't have that caretaker job where his whole focus was needed, that guilt and trauma that's been pushed back is rising up and he doesn't know what to do with it. So he pushes it down again and focuses on Day and taking care of him and being his "shadow" coz for Mhok that is as easy as breathing but as Day's boyfriend Mhok doesn't have to be Day's shadow he have to be Day's equal which he doesn't yet know how to be coz in being Day's equal it also means to trust Day to be completely okay in his absence and be able to live and be happy even if he were to go away for a while for a good career opportunity.

Something that I happen to notice is that everything Mhok has been doing is to make sure that he is capable of taking care of Day himself. To prove to everyone that he can take care of Day financially as well. In a way we don't know if it is what he even desires or is it simply coz it is a job that was given to him and he took it coz he needed that stability which again he needed to have to prove (especially to Day's mom) that he can indeed take care of Day himself. It's always been about taking care of Day.

Do I think Mhok pities Day. No absolutely not. Mhok doesn't pity Day. I think Mhok is absolutely terrified of losing someone he loves just like he lost his sister. Maybe a part of him even believes that people around him are bound to get hurt regardless of their situation and that terrifies him so he tells himself that if he were to stick around then he can make sure nothing will happen and he can try to prevent it.

Now here comes the other part. When Day said "Let's break up" I gasped and I was so pissed off but then he said " Did I do the right thing Mom" after Mhok left and all the anger vanished into thin air coz I realised he broke up with Mhok so that Mhok will finally be able to understand his potential without Day "holding" him back and (wait before you come at me with long distance relationship and communication) I think even if they were to do a long distance relationship Mhok would still be tethered to Day and his well being and at the first sign of Day getting hurt even for the smallest things Mhok would drop everything and come back and also blame himself for not being there for him and Day doesn't want that. Day wants Mhok to be happy and find his purpose that is not connected to Day, he wants Mhok to be his own person so he had to use the one excuse (that Mhok pities him) to push Mhok away coz with anything else Mhok would have been able to read him like a book but with this reason (something he has repeated that he despises throughout the whole series) he can get Mhok to believe that Day is done with him and their relationship and that this is a deal breaker for him. He knows Mhok loves him wholeheartedly and that he loves Mhok the same but he also realizes that there is no balance in their relationship at the present moment, a relationship where they both are two individuals with their own dreams and desires and just like Day's mom said in the end if they are meant to be together they will find their way back to each other no matter what. And when they do they will finally be on equal footing and be in a relationship where they both are equals.

I do believe Mhok should have talked about his trauma to Day in the earlier episodes but you can't force someone to face their trauma they should do it at their own pace when they are ready. All we can do is understand their reasoning and respect their space and let them deal with it in their own time. Coz we can never know what they are going through.

Calling Day selfish for only thinking of himself when Mhok revealed the reason for why he declined the job was a totally underserved comment and honestly selfish was the last thing Day was. Day in that moment took on the persona of his past -  (A bad- mouthed rich boy/brat) and completely closed himself off so that he won't reach out to Mhok when that's all he would have wanted to do but if he wants Mhok to go and take that job and live a life that is away from Day then he had to be cruel and heartless with Mhok. A selfish person would have never asked "if he did the right thing?" coz they won't care what their actions would do to other people. A selfish person would be in the mindset that their choice is the right one. Here Day wanted someone to tell him that pushing Mhok away was the right thing to do even if it shatters a part of him completely.

(ps if you don't agree with this, that's your opinion please respect mine)

#last twilight #last twilight the series #mhokday #jimmysea #my ramblings

[birdgirlamp]

Alright I feel like I need to point out this sharp contrast that sure as heck bothers me.

In English class, twice now we’ve had to discuss “femininity” as it pertains to a book where the woman runs out on her family (A Doll’s House and The Awakening). The discussion is immediately driven to “can she be a woman and a ‘bad mother’? How dare she abandon her family to pursue her passions or find herself? Does this negate her femininity?”

These debates always bothered me. Why are we only discussing women as they pertain to others, rather than on their own merits? And those leading questions always felt like they were pushing us to shame the female character in question. That she was selfish, or thoughtless, or shirking her responsibility. That when the mutually exclusive choice came up about either her own well-being or her family’s, she needed to endure anything, and that the onus was on her for their support.

Of course that always pivoted back to pitying her poor children. Naturally. People would argue, “A parent leaving is traumatic, regardless of her circumstances! She’s the primary caretaker! Whatever will they do without her?”

This brings me Our Flag Means Death, as 90% of my thoughts inexorably have led for the past three weeks of heartbreak and no news. xD Notably, Stede abandons his family in cold blood. No one seems particularly perturbed by this. He seems more haunted and guilty about his decision than any of the audience members. In fact, when he finally caves and returns to them, *that’s* when he is excoriated by audience members for leaving somewhere where he was happy and could find himself to return to what he perceived as his familial duties. The narrative itself reinforces that while well-intentioned, his return was the wrong choice and allows him to return to pirating with closure in tow.

Of course, in no way am I suggesting that Stede should have stayed out of guilt, or that the audience should have attacked him more so we could have parity in discussions. What I am saying, is that a show that explores masculinity is positive and open about the protagonist’s self discovery and gives him lenience for his circumstances whereas books showcasing femininity, rather than celebrating her individuality, tie her identity to her familial duties and, at least in terms of our discussion of them, encourage judgement and viewing the situations from the viewpoints of others for the purpose of demonizing her.

#our flag means death #ofmd #a doll's house #the awakening #english class #rant post #feminism #no hate for OFMD or the fandom :) #just pointing out a double standard #stede bonnet

[zeibei]

(grabbing cushion man and squeezing him like a squeaky toy)). i love this scrimby, tell me about him. what is he like,,

also gold man too i just think he looks neat :)

A LITTLE LATE ON REPLYING BUT I TRIED TO MAKE THIS A LITTLE BIT MORE ON THE SHORTER END ERFGHGF

Cushion Man is actually one of my more less developed robots, which is still needing to get some work done but they’re one of my fav designs since I think they’re so cute!

Cushion Man

Non-Binary (They/He)

Title: Seamstress 

Height: 5’2”

A bit of the storyline that I made for them is that they were a seamstress robot who was built by an aging seamstress who needed assistance in the little shop they owned. Cushion served as a caretaker for their creator as they got older and Cushion became more responsible for the business and was considered that of their creator's child till the very end. Once their creator passed, Cushion ended up moving out of the small town they came from to help properly grieve and into the city where they began working for Gold. Cushion’s personality is that of being more on the soft spoken side, but can put their foot down when they’re upset, which they do a lot with Gold esp since he's more outgoing than them. But Cushion loves making friends and is always willing to help tailor, make alterations and even make clothes for them when they get the time to! Meanwhile my awful creation……… 

Gold Man (JPN-079)

Genderfluid (He/Any)

Title: Stylist

Height: 5’0”

Likes:

-Music Man (their boyfriend)

-Fancy restaurants

-Lavish gifts

Dislikes:

-Joe Ann Pyrite (Creator)

-Landlords

-People who dislikes them

Gold was originally built as a gold mining robot, who absolutely hated the purpose they were given when activated. So much so that they tried to escape multiple times only to be brought back and was put under the watch of Rodeo Man, who also built under the same creator, developed sibling relationships and pretty much helped him escape out of the mines.

Gold ended up working as a goldsmith for a bit until becoming a stylist robot that they always wanted to be. Now they live a lavish lifestyle with building their own business and clientele who they have underneath them. Gold’s personality is that as very much out there and very easy going, with him being able to really get along with others. He’s the type who would always be wanting to know more about people and be always trying to make people crack and break down their walls so Gold can be able to get to know them better. Gold used to be a lot shyer when first activated, so they have grown a lot over the years, but they can be a little childish at times with those who they don't like. Such as his younger brother Condi but that's a whole different thing. But Gold’s personality always shines out when around others regardless. 

#megaman oc #mega man ocs #mega man oc #robot master oc #korn asks #WAAAAA SORRY FOR THE BIG WALL OF TEXT

[niconebula]

People are picking up on the 'Belos made Hunter for emotional support' thing, and I just want to say I called it like 9 months ago, but also let's expand on this. (And this is not exactly the same thing but bear with me).

Basically, the crux of it is that Belos is entirely obsessed with his brother; this was the cliff into the deep end after he died / abandoned him. Belos regards their time in childhood and before coming to the Boiling Isles as the most precious in his life. Despite appearances, Belos nearly equally depends on Hunter as Hunter depends on him. Their relationship is extremely co-dependent, however it doesn't appear that way due to the power imbalance.

Hunter, and any other grimwalkers he may have made therein, being made with one of the primary purposes of being emotional support and caretaking of Belos.

For Hunter, this poses the question: What am I supposed to do if someone who loves me cant stop hurting me? Because how hard is it to walk away from that. If the previous Golden Guards were also grimwalkers which I like to believe, it makes a point that the abuse is cyclical and never-ending.

I also want to put forth an idea that: Belos is an eternal child who never really grew up emotionally, and his actions are similar to that of a child playing make believe. Probably more accurately, he regressed to his child state as a coping mechanism of trauma.

His inner self is represented by the child version of him, who wears the same mask he dons now. This mask is the first symbol of his childhood that he clings to for comfort.

The second symbol of his childhood he clings to is the Gravesfield Crest, the place where he grew up. Because this is highly special and symbolic, and given how protective Belos is of these things, this is why I believe the previous Guards also had to participate in the make believe play.

His third item is the symbol of his brother himself. He needs these things to placate himself and stay within the realms of fantasy that nothing bad ever happened or he might fully, and permanently, transform into a beast. Hunter is his personal caretaker. He's the only one allowed to see Belos in a weak state, the only one who can see his face, the only one who can physically touch him and can hear his stories.

Belos has power to manipulate people without needing to be this personally vulnerable in front of them, but he chooses to in the case of Hunter. He is likely constantly aware that Hunter is only a figment of his brother but regardless allows him to forge that personal connection that Belos desperately needs and misses.

Like I said in my original post, you don't just go through the process of creating a clone completely alike in appearance and personality, and let them become a part of your personal life, just to be used as carnage.

Hunter's fate might as well be death anyway, as were his predecessors, but he wasn't made just to be killed like a farm animal. He’s Belos’… pet. Even if Belos won't admit it, Hunter has a whack ton of emotional significance to him.

If we’re going to ask why Belos’ brother means so much to him, beyond being associated with his old life before he came to a world he hates, and general caring for your sibling: Symbol Four

So - what if their parents were killed by the plague when they were kids? 1600-1620 was still very early for settlers, most of them still arriving by ship from Europe. The plague was still prolific until the 1800s. Belos’ brother was older and cared for him when all they had was eachother. Belos says their family is all dead, and maybe that’s actually true. Not from wild magic, but plague.

I thought the Coven Scouts may have just been designed like that for the aesthetic, but I would not be surprised about this lore connection because it fits so goddamn well.

I’m not sure where to end this ramble, but here’s some food for thought. Taking this kind of angle is a lot more interesting to me. I still think Hunter is in grave danger, but there’s no reason for Belos to raise him and give him a position next to him other than this kind of projecting.

#owl house #emperor Belos #phillip wittebane #hunter toh #toh #posting about children’s cartoons again

[industriallyinsecure]

Do you still take requests? 👉👈 If so, would you like writing headcanons for a darling that doesn't understand the situation and is too trusting for their own good? Like, they got knocked out on the street by their yandere but when they wake up they believe that they just fainted on the street and the yandere is not their kidnapper but their "savior" looking after them while they were out cold?

I do still take requests! Unless it’s stated otherwise somewhere like the top of my blog or in the master list section, requests are always open!

Formaggio doesn't really know what to expect, but you wrapping his knuckles up and fretting over him like a hen was certainly not it. There’s a certain cheekiness to him, but nothing too overt. It’s hard for him to keep it a secret, so if you asked what happened he won’t hesitate to regale you with an exaggerated version of what happened. He really hopes you won’t ask, though. It’s hard for him to think on his feet when he actually needs to, but he always comes up with a witty deflection that keeps your mind off of it. Tries to use his wiles to keep you around for as long as possible until he is forced to shrink you and keep you tucked away in his underwear drawer.

It takes Illuso every ounce of self control he has to not burst out laughing. Instead he quickly puts on a concerned façade and acts like this was just a random act of kindness. He insists that you stay with him until he’s sure you won’t go blacking out again. You don’t exactly have a choice in the matter regardless because Illuso can schmooze anyone into getting what he wants. He forces friendship on you and, hey, why not just stay over here for a while? You live so close and he’s obviously just looking out for you. Soon enough, you have a very toxic attention whore of a ‘friend’ that insists on controlling every aspect of your life. But, he was looking out for you, right? He saved you that day. He must only want what’s best for you.

Pesci doesn’t really know what to do. It was a moment of panic. He calls Prosciutto and is crying over the phone until his big brother finds him and helps him deal with it. Soon, you’re whisked away to a hotel room while Prosciutto looks for nearby apartments that Pesci could afford. He can’t bring himself to settle in next to you while you sleep, the guilt is overwhelming. When you wake up, he’s overjoyed that he didn’t accidentally kill you and that you seem to like him as well! More accurately, you were thankful that he saved you from being killed or worse, but to Pesci anything positive meant that you obviously reciprocate his feelings. Like Illuso, a toxic co-dependent relationship forms and soon you find yourself at the mercy of his constant self deprecation and gaslighting.

This was worse than Prosciutto thought. Part of the reason he took you was because he didn’t trust you to not get taken advantage of. Better him than someone who had nefarious intentions (ahem), right? He handles the situation well for the most part and frequently has to stop himself from taking you by the shoulders and shaking you so hard your brain rattles around in your skull. The way you shyly snuggle into his shoulder and thank him profusely tugs at his heart and confirms that this was the right choice. He’d enjoy this gentle domesticity in the moment and deal with your tears later if he needed to. It would be easy to subtly age you and bring you back into his arms if you felt well enough to leave, chastising you about taking better care of yourself until you were ready to go home. It’s sort of munchausen by proxy, but he’s not delusional enough to believe there’s something legitimately wrong. He knows it’s artificial, but he does play it up when he sits by your bedside and gently dabs a cool cloth on your face.

Melone treats it like a Misery situation. ‘It’s storming so hard outside and you’re pretty roughed up. All the power lines are down and the hospitals are full. I’ll take care of you’. In reality, he used a throwaway Junior he made just for this occasion to break your leg and incapacitate you. He’s not stupid enough to reveal that he’s your stalker, though. He prefers the part of the Good Samaritan that took you in and is taking care of you. He’ll milk the situation for as long as possible until it turns into an actual Misery situation where he has to break your legs again to bring you back. When you wake up the second time, he’s much more comfortable being lovey dovey and smothering you with love and attention. The first time was a trial run, but now that he tested the waters, he’s more comfortable snuggling close and watching movies with you while you recover, and he might even rub your feet if they’re sore from disuse. If you end up falling for your caretaker, Melone will be overjoyed!

Ghiaccio is afraid you’ve caught on to his ruse and prepares to incapacitate you again. In his time in Passione, he’s learned that no one is what they seem. But you’re oddly compliant when he tells you that you can’t leave just yet. Not that you could find your way back to Firenze, he brought you to the Alps for a reason. Yeah, it was a shitty little place next to a sheep farm and it was cold as all hell (not that he personally minded), but with the low temperatures it would be easy to catch you. He concocts a lie about how he was visiting the city and he couldn’t just leave you there. And you believe him. He then tells you it would be a while before you could go back because the roads were iced over and he couldn’t get his car to start. And you believed him again. As long as you’d blindly believe his words, he could keep you snug and safely nestled away in a little Alpine village until you eventually return his love. You’re obligated to, after all he’s done.

Risotto is always in combat mode, never once letting his guard down. When he slips his arms around your waist to reciprocate your hug, he’s actually just preparing to overpower you and crush you under his weight. He does enjoy the warmth of your body snug against him and the way you nuzzle into his neck. It makes his heart ache when he realizes you weren’t the slightest bit scared of him, and only makes his obsession worse. He knows very well that part of the reason he’s the way he is (meaning yandere) is because of the social disconnect in his childhood because of how he looks. But all he sees is gratitude in your eyes, and it fills his cold, thought to be long dead heart with a giddiness befitting of a child. He can’t help it when Metallica springs into action when you leave, but he’s quick to catch you before you fall, tutting and informing you that your foot must've been hurt when you fell the first time. No worries, he’ll keep it wrapped up and keep you at his dingy little apartment that he may or may not have bought for the purpose of keeping you tucked away.

Sorbet and Gelato take advantage of the situation. Gelato tries to exaggerate what happened and make it seem like they saved you from an onslaught of mafiosi, but Sorbet reigns him in without giving too much away or letting you know that it’s a fabricated story. Gelato uses any opportunity to invade your personal space and cuddle up close to you under the guise of taking care of you. Sorbet is always more subdued in his affections, preferring to just check on you and take your temperature once in a while. But if you finally ask to go home, they’ll let you go. They always enjoy a game of cat and mouse.

#yandere sorlato #yandere risotto nero #yandere ghiaccio #yandere melone #yandere prosciutto #yandere pesci #yandere illuso #yandere formaggio #la squadra di esecuzione #yandere la squadra #la squadra x reader

[scribbledghost]

The stone fireplace was the focal point of your cabin. It had been the first thing you and Jack had laid eyes on when you entered, and your bed was situated just to the left of it for ease of warmth on cold nights.

It was where the two of you spent the most time together, curled up atop the plush rug in front of it regardless of whether or not it was on. You’d managed to procure two mismatched chairs from a shop in town, one miraculously big enough for Jack’s build, but you still found yourself tucked into his side with your head on his barrel chest more often than not.

Since the nights had grown longer and the darkness had crept further into your sanctuary, you’d noticed that Jack had begun to quiet. You asked him several times if there was something bothering him, knowing full well what the answer truly was but still leaving him be when he lied and told you he was fine. You didn’t push the issue, instead making sure he knew you were there for him and that the two of you were safe and free together.

Some evenings found you curled up in his lap, your arms around his neck and your face against his shoulder. He held you close, having been the one to pull you there in the first place with a soft “need you” as he did so. You always complied with such requests, because you understood.

He needed you. Needed the lifeline you offered in the dark. The fireplace could offer light and warmth, but you could offer the companionship and love he truly needed.

However, the cold and blustery days in front of the fireplace were some of your favorite. Sunlight still spilled into the home, reflecting off of the drifting snow outside. You teased Jack more than once that you were going to find him a pair of fuzzy socks to match yours one day, even if you had to make them yourself. You would both sit by the fire, books in one hand and your free hands intertwined. No sound except for the wind outside and the fireplace crackling in front of you. It was calm. Peaceful. The picture of serenity that neither of you thought you’d have the chance to experience.

It was… odd, realizing just how much an inanimate object like a fireplace had done for the two of you. It gave you light, kept you warm, offered a sense of home and a purpose for Jack as he frequently ventured out to gather firewood for it. You found him tending to it quite often, whether it be stoking the fire within it or cleaning the ashes and soot away from the night before. And even though your bed was mere feet away from it, you still loved to lie on the floor against your beloved Minotaur, enveloped in soft blankets and warm fur as the fireplace kept watch over its two caretakers through the long, cold winter nights.

#aerynwritesdc21 #agent whiskey #agent whiskey x reader #Minotaur whiskey #ghost scribbles

[silence-burns]

Please Hate Me //part 48

Fandom: Marvel

Summary: Based on: “Imagine having a love/hate relationship with Loki.” by @thefandomimagine​ Who would have thought that babysitting a god could be so much fun?

Genre: slow-burn, enemies to lovers, banter, smut

Being the friendly neighborhood Spiderman always gave Peter a sense of pride and purpose, even if he could only share it openly with a few people. It was the kind of accomplishment that made all the hardships seem worth it in the end. It also made him happy in a way he couldn't really explain, but which involved a certain connection between him and the people he protected and got familiar with over the course of his superhero patrols.

But being the friendly neighborhood Spiderman was difficult in a neighborhood where no one was actually friendly in return.

Peter’s frown grew the further into the building he went. He was pretty sure it was the same one Loki and you had been renting an apartment in, and since he was a rather frequent guest, the neighbours should recognize him by now enough to at least return his greetings. 

That was what logic dictated, but Peter was pretty certain the people he met in the hallway only gave him a stern, disapproving look before walking past him quickly.

Peter was still frowning when he moved up the stairs, juggling the keys in his hand. Then he stopped. The unearthly screams of the damned were muffled, but most definitely coming from apartment number 13. 

Opening the door quietly, he slid into the familiar interior, now echoing with pain and suffering so loud, Peter had to cover his ears just enough to move to the root of all evil  - the bathroom. 

There were many inexplicable things Peter had witnessed happening in the apartment 13, and to some extent he got used to the thrill of not knowing what he'd face next time he paid a visit. Still, he hadn't expected to see various parts of a half-drowned owl sticking out of the sink filled thick with foam and bubbles. The owl must've struggled a lot, judging by the amount of water splashed on every possible surface, and the iron grip you and Loki still kept on the bird. Even if Loki was not wearing his usual features, it was still obvious who your partner in crime was.

The two of you froze. Soap and foam dripped to the floor. Loki's new form shimmered with a glamour only magic could achieve.

"Um, what are you guys doing?" Peter asked.

"Trying a new disguise?" The curtain of Loki's new long hair was luscious and utterly drenched. 

"No, I meant-"

"Listen, boy, as surprising as it might be for you, I'm still me, just with a less… criminally wanted image."

"Yeah, only if 'ME' stands for mischief embodied," you laughed.

"It literally doesn't. It's smooth, but it doesn't."

"Thank you, love. Now, could you please stop drowning poor Barbara?"

Loki sighed, but relaxed his grip on the bird just enough to allow it to peak its head out from under the surface and take a deep, long breath. 

Peter put his backpack down and meandered closer, dodging the growing puddles. "Why is there an owl in the sink?"

"Because I'm not allowing any fleas into my house," you firmly stated, pushing the wings back under the water. "And I don't care how many hours we'll spend here, I'm getting all the mud and dirt out."

Barbara clung to her dirt with all her might, but was overpowered and utterly misunderstood. Loki's new form was slimmer, but held the bird with his usual strength and a big dose of satisfaction. The smirk on his face was unchanged, even if the features were new.

"What do you need a disguise for anyway?" Peter asked, looking for a towel. "Can I go with you?"

"I'm afraid that as wildly chaotic and lawless as our destination is, you'd still be age-checked," Loki cooled his enthusiasm.

Barbara rushed to the towel and clung to it, loudly exclaiming what, precisely, she thought about her caretakers. Peter tried to dry her up as best as he could through her wriggling and screams. 

"Are you sure all this soap is good for her? Did you use any animal-friendly shampoo?"

Loki shrugged. "I doubt she can get any more dead."

The boy looked at the owl. The owl looked at the boy. The ruffled and drenched feathers were sticking out in all directions, uncovering a deep and no doubt fatal hole in her side. 

"You got a dead owl…?"

"It was not my idea," Loki groaned, casting the bird a disgusted stare in the mirror where he tried to change the shape of his eyebrows. 

"You're just angry because she likes me more," you laughed while mopping the floor.

Peter did his best to become invisible and not stare too openly at the ribs poking out of the feathers. Barbara puffed them every time he moved the towel around. The boy couldn't speak owlish, but the small, crittering noises she made were definitely far from happy.

"Where will you be going?" Peter asked. The owl sat on his knees and refused to move even after he finished drying her on the couch.

"To the largest casino on the Moon."

"Wait- There are casinos up there?"

"Not for kids your age," Loki said.

Peter slumped on the couch. "That's not fair."

"We'll be back before you notice." You threw the wet rag to the sink. "Of course, as long as a certain someone FINALLY decides what to wear."

Loki ignored your pointed look, too busy with changing his hair color. No matter how many little details he changed, he still struggled with finding a form he was sure would allow him to pass through the guards unnoticed and unrecognized. It was a shame he couldn't use his own - it felt like a waste to hide a face like his. 

The owl settled on Peter's shoulder, immobilizing him with the claws buried in his skin. But even from the couch, the boy could see the remnants of a hurricane that had thrown a rather alarming amount of clothes around the apartment.

"I thought these were yours," he admitted. The owl kept on looking through his hair with the utmost scrutiny and very little gentleness.

"I've settled long ago on what I'm going to wear. As for the diva himself, though…" you gestured around.

"I need it to be perfect," Loki said. "I have an important role to play, I can't just waltz in there and be recognized."

"You could go blond," Peter suggested.

"Ew, I don't want to look anything like my brother- Wait, that's actually a great idea."

Before any of you managed to protest, a full-grown Thor stood in Loki's place, watching himself from all angles in the mirror. The clothes no longer fit, so he dropped them and dove into the closet again.

"...what have I done?"

You patted Peter's free shoulder. Barbara nested in the crook of his neck. "Nothing they can prove. Hopefully."

*

"I am not my father's servant," not-Thor downed another beer. "And if I want to relax for just one evening, I shall!"

The tankard broke into tiny pieces as he smashed it on the ground. The loud applause and waves of laughter followed the very Thor-like outburst, making Loki relieved he was playing his role well. Even in a place like this, crowded with drunkards and gamblers from all over the universe, it was common knowledge what the god of thunder enjoyed.

Loki forced his glamoured face to remain cheerful as another tankard of beer had been brought to him, disgustingly sour and rough. He knew his brother well, and was sure he'd love it, but Loki himself would rather bite off his tongue than willingly digest any more if only he had an actual choice. He didn't, and therefore swallowed another gulp to the cheering from the crowds gathered at his table. The cards had been laid out, waiting for the victors to celebrate their success, and the rest to decide how much more money they were willing to lose to the god of thunder.

Seated in a great hall of marble and gold, Loki wished he could play the way he actually wanted to, which was the very same way that got him banned from the Moon last time he had visited. But for the sake of the mission, he stayed just above the line between bankrupting and winning money, which added to the body he was wearing, was just big enough temptation to keep his table busy.

Everyone entering the biggest casino on the Moon was inclined to try their luck, or at least take a quick look. It was a perfect, if rather boring, way of scanning everyone who entered the rich complex of buildings. The few fountains set further in the back murmured as they shot curtains of water. The air was thick and warm, making crowds of people inevitably gravitate towards them in search of any cold. With the tall, lush plants artistically winding over and between the pillars, it created little areas dotting the impossibly high hall, where the pleasant breeze gathered the people looking for just a moment of relief. You occupied a spot beneath the fountains, where most people would wind up going to at some point, and used it as a second checkpoint, just in case anyone missed Loki's, or rather his brother's table.

"Come on, does anyone else want to lose their fingers?" Loki heard you call out to the crowds.

Between their never ending sessions of losing and winning the money back just to lose them again, there were many individuals in need of a drink and a quick break from the gambling. How easy it was to grab their attention with a loud voice and a dead owl.

Loki stretched his neck and looked over to where you had sat down the bird with all kinds of currency piled between its claws and a single coin shining through the open ribcage. 

"All you need is to get the coin out, what's the matter, people? Is there no one brave enough to win all this money?"

Greed has always been a major deciding factor for the living beings regardless of race and the world of origin. The queue only rose in length as everyone wanted to try their luck. 

The table under Barbara grew more and more slick with blood from cut and bitten fingers. Pure malice shone in her dead eyes.

"What an awful creature," Loki muttered to himself. 

He could sense the stolen pin somewhere in the vicinity, but the casino was a loud and chaotic place, with multiple areas each centered around a different type of entertainment. More than an hour had already passed, but whoever was currently holding onto the pin, had not yet ventured anywhere near.

The two of you were slowly but inevitably running out of time. Odin might've been old and naive, but his spies' eyes reached far and wide. Loki had little doubt he would be interested in his favourite son's apparent evening fun, especially if he had that particular son with him, in the palace. Thor was a good cover, but not for much longer.

And then, by chance or a generous turn of fate, the shadows stirred and whispered. 

Loki cast the dice, not paying attention whether he'd won or lost. His money wasn't real anyway.

There - by the high palms stood the Hoarders, clad in the worn out rags and way too much jewelry. With their grey skin and long limbs, it was no wonder how easily they blended in with the shadows, using their skills to warp their surroundings and get in places others would consider highly secure. But their success was not measured in how many places they were capable of breaking in themselves, but rather how many individuals of all races they could easily befriend and bend to their will. Although, to be quite honest, Loki doubted the necromancer had needed much convincing. 

There were only three of them, each almost an identical copy of the others, but the Hoarders were encircled by both their partners for the evening and whatever scum tried to befriend them. That made it so much harder to approach them, but Loki was already thinking of a good excuse when he rose from his seat. People parted, giving him space - much more that would be granted to Loki's original form. 

The shadows whispered again. One of the ladies separated from the group, with an annoyed expression on her face.

Loki stretched, making sure to put his hands high. Once he caught your attention, he followed the lady at a leisurely pace.

"What do we do?" You asked once both of you entered the corridor and disappeared behind the corner. 

"She's got the pin."

One more turn took you in front of the ladies restroom. 

"Time for Plan C.” Loki began undressing quickly.

Holding a spare dress in your bottomless pocket was not the wisest choice, but it apparently paid off, even if fishing it out took you a moment. Your hands shook. Someone might have walked in on you at any time. While Loki would be doing whatever it took to get the pin back, you would be the one making sure no one interrupted him…

Like distracting the waiter that was now staring at both of you. Focused on the contents of your pocket, you hadn’t even noticed him approaching. Loki clad in only Thor's skin, blinked. 

The waiter turned on his heel and disappeared.

"I can already feel the gossip stirring," Loki shifted into a more feminine body, quickly putting on the dress. "They are going to eat my brother alive."

"Do you feel bad about it?"

"Oh, my heart is breaking into a million pieces," Loki assured you with a smile far too wide for that to be true. 

He kissed you quickly before disappearing into the restroom. 

Life felt amazing. Loki couldn't help but imagine the amount of trouble his brother would get once the word spread about his whereabouts.

His imagination was running wild, but the one thing Loki couldn't imagine was how, merely thirty minutes later, he'd find himself in the dungeons deep beneath the surface of the Moon, half-drowned, and viciously bitten.

#please hate me #loki x reader #loki x you #Loki Laufeyson #Loki Laufeyson x Reader #loki laufeyson x you #loki mcu #loki imagine #loki #mar #mcu #loki series #loki laufeyson imagine #loki fanfic

[homeofhousechickens]

hearing about how imprints struggle to communicate due to lack of interaction with other pigeons, i’m curious- are imprints considered immoral? i was under the impression imprints are normal and just necessary sometimes, but hearing about that last post, it seems like it's depriving them of an important facet of their life. however, the way you talk about loki sounds like he's a very happy pigeon regardless. i apologize if this is at all misinformed!

Sometimes you cannot help imprinting a pigeon.

Most imprints are a side effect of rescuing an orphan or sick peep or having to supplement feed due to weak, sick, or bad parents. Loki was rescued as a peep so their was no helping him not imprint.

The only way to prevent imprints in orphaned or rescued peeps is to give them to foster parents but they are not always around.

And imprint can live a full and happy life and some can be rehabilitated eventually to bond with birds it just takes time and an owner/caretaker who understands their bird.

What is immoral to me is when people imprint birds on purpose as it will negatively put the bird at a disadvantage when it comes to communication and behavior. It hardwires their brain to see humans as an ideal mate and that can cause alot of stress for both the owner and bird. And if it has to live in a loft without people that tends to effect them negatively as well.

Its also strange when companion breeders imprint on purpose anyway. If your breeding for friendly birds you shouldnt have to hand raise them for them to be friendly.

For example thats why Cashew the serama is getting sold she may be cuddly after me working with her but she has a naturually skittish personality so she is not something i want in my breeding program as i want birds who are pretty confident or curious right out of the egg like Nugget.

Its like removing kittens or puppies from their mother after a few days to bottle raise them for no reason. They lose the important socialization they need.

Imprints who are raised around other adult pigeons tend to have a better time because they can go through their hazing period normally but they may also choose to ignore other pigeons and disengage which would make their benefit null.

So i think that it should only be used when necessary and when its necessary the imprints arent necessarily a bad thing but it should be avoided

Human social pigeons are fine in my book though and encouraged! Thats where you interact with the baby 1 on 1 every day for a little bit with gradually increasing the time as the peep is comfortable but it goes back to its parents and flock when not being handled so it gets its important socialization.

#pigeon #ask

[morganas-pendragons]

Light | Wrecker

This is #1 of at least half a dozen or more fics I am gifting my Twitter kids for Christmas! I wanted to give back this year, and so I decided to write some things for characters I haven’t really tried anything for yet. Regardless of that, I hope you enjoy! 

I played around with the clones ages for this considering we don’t know how old The Bad Batch is - like with Rex physically looking like he’s in his twenties but not actually being so. 

This reader is a mom to the clones and uses she/her pronouns - exactly like the type in my headcanons - and she happens to have a favorite... 

***

This was supposed to be a no strings attached type of job. The Kaminoans had recruited you, a simple human, to be a caretaker - of sorts - for the hundreds of babies that occupied their nurseries within the cloning facilities. 

  “There’s no point in forming attachments, Miss. Soon enough they’ll be handed a gun and told to go play war.” 

Yeah. Well. You intend to give these children as much love as you are physically able, and that all starts with the first gaze you set upon one of the clones in the back of the nursery with the mutation. 

He’s among 3 others who are specifically mutated for purposes you are not privy to know as a civilian. That doesn't matter. You pass through lines of cradles and approach the four in the back, peering over the side to gaze into the wide and vulnerable eyes of the largest baby. 

  “Hello, sweet boy.” You murmur, grinning as he coos happily at your voice and lifts his arms upward for you to sweep him upward and into your warm embrace. “You’re stunning. I bet you’re going to be such a big, strong boy!” 

The baby’s response - despite only being old enough to hold himself upright in your lap - is only to clap joyfully and pound his tiny hands against your legs. 

Big, strong boy. You’re gonna change the world. I just know it. 

Wrecker, Age Four 

His brothers named him Wrecker. It’s fitting, given how much larger he became then the other clones, but you’re too attached to the boy to leave Tipoca City at the time that the Kaminoans have asked you to.

  “Buir!” You’ve been moved to the rooms in which they house the clones who are toddlers, and the first thing you see upon waking from your nap is a child sprinting as fast as he’s able to launch himself into your lap. “You’re awake!” 

You beam and press a kiss to his forehead. “Hi ad,” You whisper, peering over his shoulder as he wraps his arms around your neck and buries his face in your shoulder. “Something you need to tell me? I gotta go take care of your brothers.” 

  “They gave me a name today!” He says, and your eyes widen as you gaze at his three brothers who stand before you. 

  “Only because he nearly broke Viper’s nose!” 

You raise an eyebrow and gently pry Wrecker away from your chest. He’s definitely larger then the other clones despite how young he is, but he’d never use his size and strength for violence. Never. Your son is soft, innocent. He’s good. 

  “Wrecker, what’s-” Your gaze snaps back to the clone with the darker hair who then replies to your query with Hunter. It’s a fitting name. “Hunter, talking about?” 

That’s the same day you learn that the clones who will eventually make up the spec-ops team known as The Bad Batch are fiercely protective of each other. They must have learned it from the person who protected them. 

Little to the knowledge of most people, you took these four clones - the special ones, the ones who got the stares, the ones who got picked on and bullied by their brothers - under your wing. You saved them. 

And in turn they save each other. 

You are so proud to be Wrecker’s mother in that moment as he hastily recants a story of how he almost broke Viper’s nose simply because he was bullying Crosshair. 

  “Ad,” You ruffle his hair and beam with pride as you wind your arms around his body. “I am so proud of you.” 

When Wrecker climbs into bed that night, the words he never hears from his trainers and superiors rings in his mind as he burrows under the thin blanket the Kaminoans have given him and his vode. 

  “I am so proud of you.” 

As he falls into sleep, he dreams of his mother. A home, a family, and a mother standing in the kitchen unit - who gives him real food, real food he likes and he’s allowed to eat that tastes salty and sweet and sour and he’s so excited to have it - who treats her son as if he’s the whole world. The whole galaxy. 

Wrecker, Age 10 

The day he returns from a training mission with the rest of Clone Force 99 is the same day you have your first real battle with panic. According to what Crosshair and Tech tell you upon return, Wrecker was injured in a way that leaves him partially blind and with significant scarring. 

You’re terrified. He and the rest of the Batch have already had a difficult time integrating themselves in with their brothers to the point where they’ve taken to calling the non-mutated clones regs and now only associate with each other. You don’t particularly care much about that anymore. As long as they’re looking out for each other. 

When Wrecker is released from the medbay, you search the cloning facility for your son until you find him in the quietest room - the nursery - with his back against the wall and his chin resting on his knees. His face is scarred. His eye is cybernetic. 

Maker, you love him. 

  “Wrecker,” Hunter had warned you about approaching him - claiming he’d become hard of hearing with the explosion that had injured him - and had brought up a fantastic idea with Tech’s help that you were going to initiate as soon as he was ready. “Ad.”

Your son lifts his eyes to meet yours. 

  “Buir,” He replies softly, always so careful to not disturb the babies who lay in their cradles around him. “Did you need something?” 

You tilt your head and sit in front of him, parting your legs and resting your elbows against your knees. Wrecker watches you intently as you do so. He’s always been perceptive - not as much as Hunter, but enough - and with the lack of his sight, he’s having to rely more on his limited senses. 

  “Do you see this?” You take your fingers, press them all together, and rest them against the bottom of your chin before moving your hand forward. “This is sign language. It means thank you. It’ll be an easier way to talk to your vode when you can’t hear them so well. Is that something you’d be willing to learn?” 

He nodded and frowned. “I’m gonna miss blowing stuff up.” 

You reach outward, brush what remains of his hair away from his eyes, and repeat the sign for thank you and you’re welcome. He watches your hands mimic the movements before repeating them for you to see. Wrecker does them perfectly. 

  “Don’t worry.” You murmur. “You’re gonna get to blow stuff up again. I promise.” 

Your only response is his smile. It’s more than enough. 

Wrecker, Age 12  (Set during S7) 

'Сause you are loved You are loved more than you know I hereby pledge all of my days To prove it so

After a while, the Kaminoans have had their uses for you. Your services are no longer required and so you are sent back to the boring home world that you have barely stepped foot on since being sent to Kamino to be the caretaker to infant clones. 

Your experience with the formed Grand Army of the Republic is what gets you into the military, has you trained, and eventually what lands you on Anaxes. 

Though your heart is far too young to realize The unimaginable light you hold inside

  “Ma’am,” Cody’s voice rings out from behind you as you stand in the hangar bay, arms crossed over your chest with your eyes on the horizon as if waiting for the arrival of a ship. “I’ve cleaned your blasters. Just how you like them.” 

You turn to acknowledge the Marshal Commander and smile softly at him. While you spent much of your time with The Bad Batch on Kamino, the greater majority of the Commander Batch and the younger clones have considered you one of them for quite some time. 

  “Thank you Kote.” You murmur. He nods his acknowledgement and before he turns back to Kenobi, lays a hand on your shoulder and says something about the arrival of Clone Force 99 for a mission they’re assigned to do with Rex. “What?” 

The less then graceful landing of the ship known as the Havoc Marauder signals their arrival. You don’t dare move. It’s been too long since you’ve seen them, seen him, and you want to value the moment while you can. 

I'll give you everything I have I'll teach you everything I know

They had never really known the lengths you went to in order to protect them - to protect him - and give him the life, the childhood, you felt he deserved. The Bad Batch had still had it rough, but your gentle nature upon meeting them had impacted them significantly. 

  “The Calvary has arrived!” 

The first thing you see is the personalized armor. You are not the slightest bit surprised they threw in all their effort into ensuring their armor - out of the entire army - was the most notorious. Not to mention that as someone who watched them all grow up, you can see each of their personalities within the way they’ve painted it. 

Then you see him. It’s unmistakeable that it’s Wrecker considering how much taller and broader he is then the rest of The Bad Batch, but it’s not him that notices your presence first. 

It’s Tech. Ever the perceptive, constantly absorbing as much information as able, constantly recording everything, who sees you standing in the hangar and nudges his brother in the midst of speaking to Rex and Cody to point you out. 

  “Mom?” Cody asks skeptically, followed by a gasped “Buir? That’s the buir I never got to meet?!” 

Kix is laughing hysterically at the way Jesse guffaws upon realizing that you are the infamous mother to the clones, but only these four and specifically Wrecker, but the way your heart swells when Wrecker notices you standing there far outweighs the reactions of all the other vode around you. 

Instead of a greeting, Wrecker does one thing. He sees you, beams like the sun lives deep within him, and very promptly tosses you upward to sit on his shoulders. He looms over all his brothers. That doesn’t stop him. 

Oh... oh, that boy has not and will never change. 

With every heart beat I have left

I will defend your every breath

Bonus: 

  “I get to blow it up? The whole stinking thing?” Wrecker asks, to which he then looks to you with wide eyes. “You made a promise!” 

You smirk and pat Anakin’s shoulder as you pass him. “Oh, I know I did.” You reply. “Anakin is keeping up on my promise for me.” When Wrecker begins to take the detonator, you turn to the Jedi and meet his gaze. I’ve been promising him this since he was old enough to know how to blow things up.” You coax him into fully handing over the detonator to your son. “Go on. Make his year.” 

Admiral Trench’s cruiser explodes in a cloud of sparks behind The Havoc Marauder. 

#Wrecker #Wrecker x Reader #Wrecker x Mom!Reader #The Bad Batch #Star Wars imagines #Star Wars oneshots

[rachelbethhines]

Tangled Salt Marathon - Lost and Found

Another plot episode and another mountain of missed opportunities, failed set ups, and foreshadowing that goes nowhere. But outside of that it’s pretty entertaining. Are we seeing a pattern yet? 

Summary: Rapunzel and Eugene go on a journey to retrieve the fourth and final piece of the scroll that will lead them to the Dark Kingdom. They receive help from Vigor the Visionary, who reveals himself to be Lord Demanitus himself, the author of the scroll depicting the purpose of the Sundrop and Moonstone. He leads them to the maze that he hid the last piece of the scroll in. Guiding them through the maze, they obtain the last piece, which united the four into one singular map. As they are about to leave, they are attacked by a stone monster.

Maybe That’s Why You Should Have Brought the Only Person Who Can Read It Along?!

Once again, having the characters acknowledge their stupidity in meta dialogue doesn’t alleviate the fact that the audience is going to think them stupid.

Regardless of your personal feelings towards Varian or what he has done in the past that does not change the fact that he is literally the only character in the show thus far who can translate the scroll. The mains knew that before leaving and they knew from the get go that they were going to need the scroll piece which is why they took it from him.  

Not bringing him along, not getting a translation key from him before leaving, nor even showing us a scene of Raps trying to ask him to translate the scroll for them before leaving and then having him refuse to do so, is a plot hole. 

Timeline Hint...Sort Of...

Rapunzel said last episode that it had been almost year since they left Corona, and it’s now close enough to her birthday again that Eugene could be tricked by it but not enough to actually be her birthday. 

So...when are we again? 

I’m going to guess 10 months after Secret of the Sun Drop? Maybe... It could also be 9 or 11 who knows... but I am still seeing fall like trees which is our only indication of a changing season in this show because the creators don’t understand climate apparently.  

Maybe cause we’re now further north of Corona we see fall/winter leaves even into early spring? 

Where Was This Rapunzel In Season 3? 

Rapunzel actually giving a crap about what Eugene wants is as rare as seeing a fawn in the woods. It happens, but most of the time you forget it's even there. 

While come season three, Rapunzel will just shoot the poor deer dead. 

Madame Canardist is a Wasted Character

I’ve already discussed at length the biggest problems with Madame Carnardist in my Vigor the Visionary and Curses reviews. So I won’t rehash those talking points here again. However what I spoke about were larger problems with the media industry and bigotry as a whole and not the specific impact the character has on the story. Which is next to none. 

The crew went through all of this trouble to make a deleted character from the film relevant to the series’s plot, and even there they failed. Madame Canardist is nothing more than a translator for Vigor when Demantius isn’t around. The story doesn’t utilize her properly despite her connections to one of the more plot important characters. 

What is her relationship to Demantius and Zhan Tiri? How did Vigor come into her care? Why is she the only person who understands him when Demantius isn’t in control? If Vigor is centuries old by this point than how old is she? What is her stake in all this and why does she bother with Rapunzel at all if she has nothing to gain from it? Why doesn’t she go along on this important quest through the maze seeing as how she is Vigor’s caretaker? 

She’s not completely useless, but like with Lady Caine, Xavier, and Hector before her, she has far more potential than the series is willing to explore with her.  

So Much For Caring About What Eugene Wants 

Welp that lasted all of five seconds. 

Man, Rapunzel is a shit girlfriend.  

The Pay Off Works, But It Then Serves No Purpose Afterwards 

I don’t mind the idea of Demantius being the monkey. I mean it is one of the very few plot points in the show with proper foreshadowing and follow through. And yes, Demantius does accomplish one thing here, by helping Raps obtain the last scroll piece. 

The problem is, nothing changes with this revelation. 

No one’s perceptions or interactions with Demantius/Vigor are altered after this reveal. No one changes their plans, goals, or motivations afterwards. Things carry on more or less afterwards the same as if they had never met. The only thing of importance here is the scroll pecice and that’s only relevant in Cassandra's Revenge and is then forgotten about completely for the rest of the series. 

What’s the point of having a plot twist if the status quo still remains?    

If the information being revealed doesn’t alter the story then why keep it secret to begin with? 

How Could You Research Them If You Never Found Them?

So did Demantius write the incantations or not? 

He is the one who put them on the scroll, so it’s natural to conclude that he did create them, but he couldn’t have done that unless he had studied both the moonstone and sundrop to see the effects the two macguffins had to the spells. 

Now according to this exposition dump, the sundrop and moonstone had been around for ages before Demantius and had become legends by his time. It is possible that someone else studied the two macguffins before him and came up with those incantations, but who? 

The ancient people of the Dark Kingdom might have studied the moonstone since they were tasked with guarding it, but no one knew where the sundrop was until Gothel found it. 

The audience needs to know this sort of information in order to understand the motivations driving the conflicts of the characters. 

Imagine a Lord of the Rings trilogy that never bothered to say where the one ring of power came from or how it came into Gollum’s possession. You’d be left wondering why everyone was fighting over what amounts to an invisibility spell that once belonged to a small deformed hobbit who used to catch fish.   

This Explanation Goes Nowhere 

Why did the disciples betray Demantius? What did they gain from siding with Zhan Tiri? Why was Gothel with them? Did she betray everyone once she found the sundrop? What was Demantius and Zhan Tiri fighting over to begin with? 

Don’t expect any of those questions to be answered. The series inexplicably makes a big deal over Gothel being connected to Zhan Tiri, but then never actually explains what that connection is, what they’re relationship dynamic was, nor how it connects back to Rapunzel’s and Cassandra’s current conflict. 

That’s the real failing of the show’s lore and backstories. They don’t connect back to the current conflict. It’s just there. 

In a well constructed show, Demantius would have been a parallel to Rapunzel who was also ‘betrayed’ by people she trusted. It would have been revealed that it was Demantius’ own actions that drove away his followers and caused them to side with Zhan Tiri. Thereby serving as a warning to Rapunzel herself and forcing her to realize in the end that in order to save everyone she’s have to apologize to those she hurt. We also would have gotten three betrayals instead of two since that’s more thematically impactful. 

But this isn’t a well constructed show and the characters in it don’t ever evolve.   

This Contradicts What We Find Out In Season 3

We find out in the last season that Zhan Tiri was originally from this world and that the only reason she was ‘bent on destruction’ was because of Demantius ticked her off somehow.  She also had no magical powers of her own until after Demantius had banished her to that other realm where she was imprisoned. 

Also Demantius didn’t use any powers. He just chucked her into a portal he had built without any warning or trail, with zero idea if it would kill her or not, all because she just stood there yelling at him. Like there wasn’t even any physical fighting, so it wasn’t a case of in defense either. 

Demantius should have been revealed to be the real antagonist all along but that would require the showrunners to be actually clever for once and not misogynistic towards their female characters. 

This Makes Zero Sense

First off, when was Zhan Tiri ever looking for Demantius? She’s been too busy trying to escape from her prison and it’s been centuries. She has no reason to suspect that he’s still alive nor does she care. Zhan Tiri’s plans are not dependant upon whether or not Demantius still exists. 

Secondly, how is the host body still alive after centuries? Why go with monkey when I’m sure there are actual human beings out there who would agree to living forever. Does the transfer actually destroy the mind? Cause if not you could have had an actual coherent host that could have helped out when Demantius was dormant.   

And don't give me any guff about ‘ethics’ because this is the man who played judge, jury, and executioner to his supposed friend/possible lover and probably killed one of his disciples as Sugarbee’s spirit was trapped in his device.  

Not the Best of Plans My Dude

So Demantius is basically committing suicide here for no real reason. 

Unless he was just already dying anyways when he made the transfer, then Demantius is drastically shortening his conscious life span. The monkey will live on, but he won’t. 

So why? He had no way of knowing that the sundrop would become a person in the future, it’s completely coincidental that he met Rapunzel just at the right place and time to help her, and as stated above, Zhan Tiri was no longer a threat to him or the world since he imprisoned her and defeated his disciples. 

Like what was his thought process here? “I just really, really want to be a monkey?” 

Eugene Isn't Wrong 

Look, I am a deeply religious person and I have faith in many things, but even I know that critical thought is necessary for basic survival and that scepticism is just plain common sense. Believing in something doesn’t mean shutting your brain off and never thinking for yourself. 

Demantius has yet to give any reason for why Eugene and Rapunzel should trust him. Him saying ‘have faith’ repeatedly does nothing to instill confidence and in fact does the opposite. If you want to people to believe in you, especially in a dangerous situation that you dragged them into, then you need to earn that trust. 

There’s a world of difference in assuming the best in people and being a fool, and Rapunzel is not the better person just because she blindly goes along with anything because she stubbornly wants to do whatever she wants and assumes she’s always right. 

Eugene is Still Right

Is ‘Faith’ the new ‘Destiny’ now? Are we just assigning different meanings to random words in order to push the story’s narrative along? 

This entire maze only involves solving puzzles, answering riddles, and a bit of running and climbing here and there. ‘Faith’ has absolutely nothing to do with it. 

This theme doesn’t even work when you take into account the reveal that it’s Eugene who needs to have faith in Rapunzel. Because Rapunzel isn’t the only one doing these things and getting them through here. 

In fact Demantius being here, and being the one who built the maze in the first place, kind of negates Rapunzel’s importance in this area. Secondly, Eugene is doing half the work anyways so it should be a message about having faith in each other. But they already have that so...yeah what’s the point of Demantius constantly bringing it up? 

Why Are You Caring About Money While Stuck In a Death Trap?

You’re rich now, Eugene. You’re the future prince consort and live in a palace. As soon as you get back to Corona or a place that recognizes Corona as a kingdom you’ll have plenty of money to spare. But you can’t do that if you’re dead inside a maze. 

Moreover, Rapunzel still has money on her. She just threw two coins in to the well; one for her and one for Demantius. You two live together! You’ve been traveling inside a caravan together for over a year now and neither of you work. Ergo, you should logically be sharing your finances at this point in time. Especially since that is what you’ll be doing anyways once you’re married for real, as you’ll both be heads of state.   

That’s Now How Faith Works

Faith is evidence for things unseen, or to put it more accurately the evidence for things that are unprovable. God, death, the future, creation, souls, the meaning of life, ect, are all concepts that can’t be proven nor disproven. No one upon this earth will ever know for certain what happens after death, how the universe was made, or if there is any intelligent life out there beyond ourselves.

People don’t like the unknowable.

Believe systems of all kinds, whether they be religious or not, exist to bring us comfort when face with the dread of such existential questions. Even if that belief system is agnosticism itself.

Gravity, weight, and basic physics however are all provable concepts that have been around since Ancient Greece, if not longer. Man has always known that if you drop something it falls, even if they didn’t have the math to back it. It’s just a fact of life.

‘Faith’ isn’t going to stop Eugene from falling. It’s not going to make the bridge more sturdy. It’s not going to magically make him as light as a feather. It won’t turn the acid below him into water. “Faith’ can’t literally give you wings and make you fly; that’s just a metaphor.

What Demantius is promoting here isn’t faith. What he’s asking Eugene to do is to blindly follow his orders without question.

This is especially jarring when you consider that Demantius is supposed to be a famous scientist. He should know very well the importance of critical thought and that having faith doesn’t mean shutting your brain off.

The Scroll is Such a Let Down

We’ve spent a season and a half finding the pieces for this thing and it won't actually be relevant until the halfway through season three. Mostly because the one person who can translate it isn’t here.

On top of that, it’s no longer important outside of  one episode. It’s an example of  the payoff not living up to its hype.

So This Is a Lie

The scroll only contains four incantations on it, and one is on the back in invisible ink and not the fourth pecice itself. None of those incantations involve combining the moontsone and sundrop together. In fact, after using two of those incantations only once they’re never seen being used again for the rest of the series. Furthermore, once the moonstone and sundrop are combined they only allow the user to perform the healing and hurt incantations, which Rapunzel can do anyways without the moonstone. 

Demantius wrote the dang scroll himself! He should very much know what is on it and what it does. This is yet another case of the writers not planning things ahead. 

Being Good at Riddles Doesn’t Make You ‘Pure of Heart’ 

Being ‘pure of heart’ means that you are kind. One does not need ‘faith’ to be kind. Being kind is doing the right thing and helping others even if it doesn’t benefit you at all.

Not only does running through a maze not have anything to do with faith, it also has nothing to do with kindness.

The only thing it proves is that Rapunzel enjoys running through a maze, and will do so in addition to dragging others along with her regardless if those people want to do it or not.

That’s not being kind.

If anything Rapunzel has only proven thus far in the series that she is a very selfish person who shouldn’t be trusted with such grave responsibility.

But as already pointed out, Demantius doesn’t care about actual faith, kindness, or purity. He just wants blind obedience. He’s mistaken Rapunzel’s exuberant and stubborn nature for nativity; not realizing that her complancany is only because they both desire the same goal.

Had he asked Rapunzel to do something that she didn’t already want to do, she wouldn’t have been so ‘pure’ to his mind.

That Is a Very Valid Question 

Eugene has a point. There’s no reason to go on this quest. In fact knowing about season three in hindsight, turning around now and not going to the Dark Kingdom would be the better option for everyone.

Cass couldn’t steal the moonstone. Zhan Tiri would never be freed. Corona will never be destroyed and the brotherhood never mind trapped. As for the black rocks they will just sit there impotently not doing anything.

Even freeing Quirin, not that Rapunzel cares, only requires the hurt incantation, which she already has.

The only problem is that Cassandra has ZT trapped in her mind but without the moonstone that has no consequences outside of Cass hearing a annoying voice in her head that she is perfectly capable of ignoring. And even that wouldn’t have happen if they had turned around after the Great Tree.

SHOW DON'T TELL

Nothing in the show back up what Demantius is saying here. We haven’t seen the rocks being active since season one. Even when Rapunzel was lollygagging around or going off the path. 

When they do become active again in the next episode it’s to help her, and after that in season three it’s all Cassandra’s doing. 

Also in season three Rapunzel is able to rebuild Old Corona around the rocks with little problem even though she didn’t reunite with the moonstone. 

In a Competent Show This Would Be Foreshadowing. This Is Not a Competent Show. 

I genuinely thought this was hinting at Moon Eugene, when I first saw this. Now couple that with the talk of ‘three betrayals’ earlier and I thought Eugene would be the final ‘betrayal’ and that a true love's kiss, after Rapunzel had apologized to him, is what would reunite the two powers and save the day.

I’m not going to fault the show for not living up to my expectations and predictions, but I will fault the series for failing to utilize Eugene properly and not working him into the main conflict. He’s the duel protagonist of the franchise. He should have just as much weight in the narrative the same as Rapunzel has.  

Oh How I Hate Where This Arc Goes

What the show does wind up doing to Eugene however, is incredibly stupid and frustrating. 

Remember how I said that ‘faith’ in this show is just blind obedience? 

Yeaaaahhh.... 

That’s what Eugene takes from all of this. Not that he should support and believe in his partner, something that he already was doing by the way, but that he needs to be a doormat to her and her whims. 

Like with Rapunzel yelling at Hook Hand in Brother’s Hook, this is the point where Eugene’s character starts to break. You just wouldn’t know it until after watching season three. 

This Is Such a Lazy Cop-Out

Like the audience has these questions too. Neither us nor Rapunzel will ever have these questions answered. You just backed out of committing to any real answers because you didn’t have your story planned out like you should have.

Why Does Everyone Act Like There’s a Prophecy When There Isn’t Any Actual Prophecy? 

Once again, Demantius had no way of knowing that the sundrop would become a person. No one did. There’s no prophecy and there’s zero explanation for his psychic abilities, which are inconsistent at best.  In fact I don't think he does have such powers, otherwise he’d be more helpful inside the maze. I think those are reserved for Vigor only and we don’t know where he got them or if he even is a ‘real’ psychic. 

Tangled the Series wants to act like it’s running on a predestination plot. That events must occur and will occur regardless of what actions you take to prevent it. Now ignoring how that causes problems with the characters’ agency for a moment; you can not have any predestination if there’s no actual destiny. 

Chosen one plots often have prophecies for a reason. Predestination is there to evoke either tragedy that can’t be prevented or present consequences for  if/when the main hero doesn’t follow along. Either way it’s there to establish conflict. 

Everyone in TTS acts like there is a conflict when said conflict hasn’t actually been established! 

This is writing 101. You need conflict. You need to establish shit. You can’t just pretend that a conflict exists where it doesn’t. ‘Fake till you make it’ doesn’t work in long term storytelling and television animation. It has to be pre-planned.  

Also The Timeline Doesn’t Match

Demantius said that it was a millenia when the sundrop and moonstone fell.He also just said he’s been waiting for a millenia to ‘meet the sundrop’. Yet Demantius acted like the sundrop and the moonstone were already legends by the time he started to search for them. That means they had to be around longer than he has. It also brings us back to the first question of who wrote the incantations if he and Zhan Tiri never found them? 

Believing In Someone Does Not Mean Shoving All the Work Onto Their Shoulders

You’re supposed to be in this together. Couples should work as a team. Both of your lives depend upon getting out of here so you should both be coming up with ideas and working together.

Not only does this miss the entire point of what ‘believing in your spouse’ actually means, it’s also incredibly unfair to both of these characters. It’s unfair to Rapunzel for put so much pressure and unrealistic expectations onto her and to have her be the person to carry both of them through when Eugene is perfectly capable of physically doing things. It’s also unfair to shove Eugene to the side and make him a useless character all of a sudden.

Rapunzel Does Nothing To Earn Such Blind Devotion 

Rapunzel’s magical hair has nothing to do with Rapunzel as a person. It’s an entity separate from her being. Literally. The hair can move of its own accord as shown here and it’s possible to physically separate Rapunzel from her powers as seen in the finale.  

Believing in Rapunzel should be about believing in who she is as a human being, about her individual character. It should not be because she has magic glowing hair.  

Not only is this a betrayal of Rapunzel and Eugene’s relationship and why they came to love one another in the first place, but it’s also a betrayal of Rapunzel’s growth as a character. It’s not only Eugene who blindly kisses her ass after this point, it’s everyone, even though she gives them little reason too. 

This the Last We’ll See of Vigor and Madame Canardist

Three episodes spent establishing these characters and now they’re just gone for no reason. They’re never seen of nor mentioned again beyond a single meta joke. Despite the main conflict revolving around Demantius and them both having the closest connection to that character.  

This Is Bad Foreshadowing, But At Least It’s Actual Foreshadowing  

Up till now any ‘foreshadowing’ we got for Cass’s villain arc has been confined to poorly thought out background images; the painting of the moon, the broken mirror in Gothel’s tower, and I won’t even dignify Chris’s bullshit about her handmaiden dress being blue. 

Not to mention all of that was only in season one. Outside of her conversation with Eugene about their parents, way back in Cassandra vs. Eugene, we haven’t had any real foreshadowing until we hit the Great Tree. 

Since the Great Tree we’ve only had a couple of bitch fights with Raps, which I personally don't consider real foreshadowing since no ill will was attached to those, and her glaring angrily at Rapunzel after escaping the shell house. 

In light of that, this scene is at least genuine foreshadowing, it’s just poorly done foreshadowing. 

While the other attempts at foreshadowing were too subtle, this one is too obvious. It gives the game away too early because there’s no other viable options within Rapunzel’s group. Adira comes closest and she’s not actually here and not really considered a friend by Rapunzel herself.  

So what winds up happening is that Cass’s arc feels rushed despite being planned since the beginning.  

Conclusion 

I spent three days fighting tumblr to get this review posted! Appreciate it! 

As for the episode itself, it’s fun to watch in isolation, but it’s such a let down knowing what’s to come from it all. 

#tangled #tangled the series #rapunzel's tangled adventure #anti-tangled #demanitus

[the-autisticats]

Who becomes a special education teacher?

There is no singular answer to this question. When I volunteered at a school for autistic and otherwise disabled students, each teacher and aide was different. When I volunteered at an ARC adult daycare center, the staff were equally varied in their treatment of the individuals there. But there were some common threads I noticed across both locations, regardless of how different they were on the surface. And there were common threads that tied the teachers & staff together, too.

For the purposes of this post, I will be discussing my observations about the school, not the ARC adult daycare center. Also, before you continue reading, you should know that this essay will discuss suicidal ideation and sexual actions. Now, let’s continue:

Something very interesting I noticed was that the only white man I ever interacted with was the principal of the school. I’m sure there were a few white male teachers, but I never met any. The people who were with me in the aftercare classroom were all women and/or POC. This demographic data didn’t match my own school, which was only 10 minutes away. My own school had extremely few teachers of color, and had a decent amount of white male teachers. But looking back, I recall that the many of the one-on-one aides for the special education students at my school were people of color.

I’m pointing these things out because usually, jobs that women and/or POC do are systemically undervalued in society. Teaching is still seen as “women’s work,” because it’s associated with caretaking. The association with caretaking gets less intense as kids get older, which is why there are a heck of a lot more male secondary school teachers than there are male elementary school teachers. According to the National Center for Education Statistics (in the US), only 11% of elementary school teachers are male, whereas 36% of secondary school teachers are.

When you look at the stats on special education teachers as a whole, 86.3% are female (meaning that 13.7% are male). Despite being significantly outnumbered, the average salary for a male special education teacher is $53,855, which is $8,393 more than the average female salary of $45,462.

Then, looking at the statistics for one-on-one aides, things get even more stark. Almost 89% of paraprofessionals are female, and the average female classroom aide makes only $19,927 per year, compared to male classroom aides who make $26,453 per year. Referring to the previous paragraph, notice the significant gap between what the teachers are paid, versus what the aides are paid. There are also many more POC aides than POC special education teachers. Only 16.8% of special education teachers are POC, whereas 24.3% of aides are POC. (I did those calculations based on US census bureau data)

Okay, so we’ve discussed the demographics, the pay gaps, and the racial disparities. Keep in mind that the vast majority of people in these jobs are also neurotypical, and that all of the teachers and aides where I volunteered were neurotypical as well. Now, I’m going to discuss the pervasive ableism and problematic attitudes that existed at the school, keeping in mind all of the sociological factors that have contributed to these people feeling that they are not valued in society for the work that they do.

The culture of the school I worked at was what one might expect. The teachers mostly cared about the students, and were pleasant to talk to. But there were some things I noticed that weren’t particularly pleasant or enjoyable:

Most of the time, the teachers and aides talked about the students in the 3rd person, as if they weren’t in the room. Even if the students in question could speak clearly, they were still treated as though they could not contribute any meaningful input to a conversation. The problem was even worse for students who couldn’t speak. They were all referred to in the 3rd person, discussed by staff, and speculated about without any regard for the fact that they probably understood everything that was being said about them. I tried my very best not to engage in this behavior when spoken to (teachers would try to involve me in their conversations about the students), but in order to mask and protect my position as a volunteer, I couldn’t speak up about the issue or do anything to stop it.

Many of the teachers obviously didn’t want to be there, and didn’t like their jobs. There was one teacher in particular, I don’t remember her name, who would even “joke” about committing suicide right after a student did something mildly disruptive. She would vocally express (right in front of the students!) how much she hated her job, hated herself, and hated her life. She was at least 50 years old, and often turned to me (I was only 17 at the time) to vent and rant in distress about how awful everything was and how much she wished for retirement. This was incredibly uncomfortable to me, and probably very damaging to the students, but it was also something I couldn’t really do anything about given my unofficial status at the school.

Students were not given any intellectually stimulating activities to do in the after school program. This was a particular problem for one autistic student named Matt, who I could tell was bored out of his mind. To quell his boredom, he peeled the paper label off of crayons, peeled the name stickers off of other students’ desks, ripped up pieces of construction paper, stole food from the snack bin and shoveled it into his mouth when the teachers weren’t paying close attention, and masturbated in the middle of the classroom. That last part is something nobody had prepared me for when I started volunteering there. In fact, it seems to be something nobody in the special education world talks about at all. The only other person I’ve talked to about it until now is Laurel. And yes, it caught me off guard. But I very easily understood why all of this was happening- Matt was seeking intense sensory input to replace his boredom.

Sometimes his aide gave him picture books to read out loud, which he did. But when he was finished and said “Done!” his aide just told him to read it again. The only times I had seen him truly happy and engaged were the times that he was allowed to play the keyboard. Matt was an amazingly talented musical artist. I was shocked when I first heard him play- not because he’s autistic, but because the composition he was creating was worthy of being played in Carnegie Hall. During the days he had access to the keyboard, his sensory seeking and anxious behaviors significantly decreased. He sang along to the tune of the songs he created (they were extremely catchy), and chewed on a red chewy that was clipped to his shirt. He didn’t bite his hands, rip up his gloves, or ask to “go to the bathroom.”

Yet, he usually wasn’t allowed to use the keyboard. The reason I overheard was that the music teacher was afraid he would break it. And yes, he did have a history of throwing things during meltdowns, which I witnessed. So it was possible that he might try to throw the keyboard, too. But what nobody except me seemed to understand was that his meltdowns only happened on the days when he wasn’t given access to the keyboard. He was calmest when playing it.

These were the ways that each student was failed. They were treated as less than human, as non-thinking and non-understanding. Teachers spoke openly, in front of the students, about how much they hated their jobs. The knowledge and skills of students were severely underestimated. Students like Matt were not provided with real books, real intellectual challenges, or the ability to fully express themselves creatively.

And quite honestly, not all of that was purely a function of ableism. It was also a function of the socioeconomic status of the teachers, and the ways they were unappreciated, undervalued, and underserved by society at large. When these teachers and aides aren’t given proper tools and resources to understand and assist autistic people, they will inevitably fail. When classrooms don’t have enough books, when teachers have to buy their own art supplies, and when there’s only one keyboard in the entire school, the students aren’t going to get their needs met. When the school is understaffed, people are working overtime to pay for their mortgage, and teachers have to stop meltdowns during their lunch breaks, they’re bound to have negative attitudes about their jobs and lives in general.

The solution to this problem is two-fold: start funding the important work of educating and caring for disabled people, and start creating seminars and workshops for these teachers to learn about disability from the perspective of disabled self-advocates, so that they will be best equipped to serve their students’ needs.

I hope that dream becomes a reality someday.

~Eden🐢

#actually autistic #autism #autistic #aba therapy #ableism #autismacceptance #special education #special education teacher

[may-not-my-flesh-fail-on-me]

Extended Ending for: How Tseng would react to a significant other taking care of him while he has a sickness.

Tseng x Reader (caretaker)

“Now, Y/N. Let go.” Your other arm wrapped around his waist and you had begun to literally drag his tall body back into the bedroom despite his constant protesting. When you met the bed, you had actually thrown him back onto it. There was a moment where he stopped everything. Moving, thinking, even breathing as he was perched up on his elbows, legs partly separated, staring up at your eyes with astonishment, fear and arousal.

“Call out and get some rest. You don’t have another option, here.” Your dominance clearly affected the man as was something you had never revealed. You’ve always allowed him to show his dominance over you, especially in the bedroom and even then while you stood in front of the bed and watched him pant against it, you wished you could apologize and let him do as he wanted. Those thoughts blew away as soon as they appeared. You needed to do this for his own good. If not, he would’ve surely gotten worse in his condition. So, you repeated your verdict. “Call out, or I will.”

He slowly slipped his hand into his pocket to grab the cellphone that was residing there. Clicking the call button, you listened as he spoke to his second-in-command and informed him that he would not be going in all the while never removing eye contact with you. Hanging up, he dropped the phone onto the mattress in defeat.

“Thank you,” a gentle whisper fluttered from you. “I’m gonna get you some medicine while you get some more comfortable clothes on.” Tseng breathed heavily, his chest rose and fell while still in bewilderment. You slowly turned and left the man in the peak of his arousal but perhaps that would be his punishment. He shouldn’t have tried to go to work in the first place, and you wouldn’t reward him with anything he desired. Though, you genuinely cared for his wellbeing and hated how you had to be so rough with him in order to get your point across. Regardless, it was time to gather what he needed to recover from the sickness that was only going to get worse and because you loved him, you did just that.

— [Past this point is where it becomes explicit; please read only if you feel comfortable doing so. My Tumblr is not allowing me to do “Keep Reading” so seriously, if you don’t feel comfortable continuing, please scroll past] —

Returning to the room, you found Tseng in the same spot where you left him. After grabbing what you said you would, you handed him the pills, which he reached his palm in order to comply with your mute order. After he tossed them into his mouth, you handed him the glass of water you held. You watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed, confirming he swallowed what you had directed.

“Good boy,” you toyed, making his eyes meet yours after those two words. He lowered the glass to place it onto the bedside table and retreated back to the position you left him in, a part of him afraid what you would do if he tried to move away. Another side wanting to do just that in hopes you would punish him through sensual acts.

“Y/N,” he coaxed through a sly tongue, “since I will be at the house today... Perhaps you and I, could pass the time together.” Tseng was never good at initiating sex but from the time you’ve been with him, you at least could figure out when he was alluding to it. You found yourself smirking to his craving and noticed you also wanted the same but a more pressing matter stopped you.

“You’re sick, Tseng. I can’t afford to get what you have.” Tseng now lifted himself to the point he was in a seated position and it sparked something in you that made you want to see him return to his back.

“Because of your allegations, I had no choice but to do as you commanded and have taken the medicine to counteract the effects of the sickness. I assure you that I am confident in the medicine’s ability to cure me.” You laughed in your own throat at his show of desperation to get what he wanted, but still thought to yourself of perhaps still punishing him for not listening to you earlier. You slipped a grin across your devious face before meeting the bed. Using one knee, you crept your body close to his until your chests almost bumped. The other leg surrounded his thigh while your hands slid down over his chest, painting his hair with strokes from your fingers.

“Ever confident, eh?” You teased but due to how close you had put yourself to him, Tseng’s only concern was to get even closer. His hand pressed firmly onto your lower back, while the other slid up and over your neck. “I don’t think you deserve to be dominant.” A confident whisper entered his eardrum and all he could hear was ‘dominant’.

“Do you believe you are capable of being the dominant one?” The impulsive nature of that rude question implied he was playing for keeps. He hated being dominated in the bedroom. Matter of fact, it only happened once. One day he had come home from the bar after spending time with his fellow associates and accidentally became intoxicated. You remember feeling surprised that he still wanted sex and actually allowed you to straddle him since he was too tired to participate.

Other than that, he was always levelheaded and controlling. Giving orders as if you were one of his subordinates and expected them to be followed or you would be punished. As your hands met the button on his suit, your agile fingers undid it with no effort at all.

“I think I’m more capable than you’d like to admit.” Your fingers crept underneath his suit jacket and pulled it down his sweating arms. Whether it was from the sickness or how you were affecting his body was left to be discovered but either way, you didn’t stop in your endeavor. You noticed his breathing became hitched when your fingers purposely explored the length of his arms. You copied the image in your head of that night when he was inebriated and straddled his hips comfortably but knew you wanted to make this morning something to remember.

You found yourself smiling deviously as you undid the tie around his neck. Slowly, you pulled so he felt the fabric grind against his white shirt creating friction he wished he would be the source of.

“Y/N.” He whispered but you did not relent. Free of his neck, you twirled the tie around your fingers giving Tseng enough time to realize what you intended to do with it. “No, Y/N.” He denied hopefully, wishing you would accept his denial and allow him to take over. Allow him to do as he always did; take control. There was always a part of you that inwardly begged as to why he always hated being dominated. He loved doing it but hated reciprocating and you desperately wished you had the courage to ask why.

Instead, you lifted the black fabric across Tseng’s eyes and wrapped it around his head. You were surprised that he still allowed you to do such an act due to the quickening of his shortened breaths. You could feel that he was enjoying what you were enacting by the pressure felt against your pelvis derived from his own so you assumed that must have been why he started to breathe heavily. Jerking the knot together in order to tie it firmly, he gasped to the impact given.

“Y/N.” He continued to press, and it started to sound like a plead. Problem was: you couldn’t tell if he was pleading for you to continue, or for you to stop. Deciding it would have been in his best interest to make it seem like you were aware of his uncertainties, you slid your hands underneath his hair to grope his neck. Leaning close, you whispered into his ear a sweet fallacy.

“Do you want me to stop, Tseng?” He did not answer, probably overwhelmed by the amount of domination you surrounded him with. Using your lips to sever any hopes he had of believing your words were sincere, you took a breath into his earlobe. “I’ll stop, as soon as you come for me.” That task would not be too hard to achieve, he mused in his own head but he had no idea that you were also playing with the intention of winning and getting exactly what you wanted. And what you wanted, was Tseng completely and utterly submissive. Just this once.

“Why do I feel you will not stand by your word?” His usual soothing voice was then filled with what could be mistaken as paranoia and when you placed your hands under the crook of his arms to lift his body towards the bed frame, it confirmed his suspicions. Finally achieving what you had desired since he sat up, you stared down at his chest as it rose and fell quickly with his back against the mattress. He attempted to speak your name again, but naturally at this point you ignored all hopes he had by simply not responding. Without using your lips, because you decided it would be better to wait and tease him with skin first, you lined his abdomen with your hands. Lining each and every muscle with your fingers, something Tseng actually enjoyed thoroughly. He even admitted it to you: how he craved when you touched him.

For a tall, skinny man, Tseng was by no means unfit. He hid his physique well behind the layers of his Turk suit but once you unraveled them, boy were you always in for a treat. You waited however, saving the best until you got him exactly where you wanted him. Your hands lowered even further, finding the leather belt he fastened neatly against his pants and began to unbuckle it very slowly, which allowed him to feel the suspense of what you had planned for him. Again, he called out your name but did not remove the blindfold, secretly aware that if he were to try and face off against you, ultimately he would fail. He was better off accepting what you wanted him to do and that was that. Naturally, you still continued to ignore his hidden pleas to get you to stop and it was only when you tugged the belt free from his person, did he release a sentence.

“What do you have in store for me?” The hope in his voice never faded and it was that very desperation that made you want to fuck and dishevel him even more. A hushed chuckle slid away from your slithery tongue was his only answer before you took his wrists in your palms. Tseng had begun to move then, squirming and fidgeting, aware of what you truly demanded of him. “No, Y/N. Anything but this—“ you then noticed there must have been something deeper that he never told you of. Why else would he so desperately want to escape being shackled? It couldn’t have just been avoiding your domination. Still not giving up though, you cooed him with a soft hand against his cheek.

“Tseng, I promise you that I will not hurt you. You can trust me.” You noticed his fingers that remained in your hand were trembling ever so slightly and it almost made you falter... If you weren’t reminded of all the times he showed his dominance over you in the past and very rarely did you not want to participate but inevitably did because you loved him. You hated to admit it, but it was about time he picked up his slack and repaid you for just some of those times. “I won’t, hurt you.” That may have been a lie, you honestly weren’t sure but regardless couldn’t back down now. You were so close to getting what you needed. His submission.

Your progression continued after he did not respond to your promises and met the bed frame with his wrists in your hands. Wrapping the belt around the metal and his arms, you tightened it with more force than you intended but once you did, his body jerked and bounced into your already wet pants. You hated that it sent a bundle of sensations through your body but it turned you on harder than you ever imagined it would, making your heart pound excruciatingly against the inside of your ribcage.

Your fingers trailed down along the insides of his arms and you could feel his own heart beating as heavily as yours was. When you met the button that was covering his neck, you realized amusedly that couldn’t do. Undoing it, you found the sweat of his neck collecting there in a beautiful sheen like morning dew on a freshly cut field. You wanted desperately to touch him there, but didn’t want to ruin the canvas that was his skin so instead, you unbuttoned the rest of his shirt. You made sure to do it very patiently, in order to assure his impatience. When you finally finished unwrapping him, you pulled at the edges of the shirt to reveal what he had been selfishly keeping from you. His beautifully crafted muscles that were the perfect size for you.

Your eyes painted his chest with lust and there was a moment where you considered ripping his pants off and simply taking him as soon as possible. You didn’t though, you had to wait. You had to let the dominance you were showing simmer down into his very core. You wanted Tseng to always remember this day. To always remember what could follow if he were to disobey and what ‘punishment’ would follow. You pressed your weight down onto your palms as they rested next to his bare sides and you relished in the sight of his panting upper body. Shifting your head down until you were mere centimeters from his sweating skin, you blew against the sheen of liquid to tease the man’s hormones.

“Stop—“ he stuttered in a breathy command but it was far too late for him to be giving orders and actually expecting them to be obeyed. Now, purposely being as skillful as possible, you traversed your head over his right nipple. Already hard from the enticement you’d revealed to him, you swallowed it inside of your mouth. Sucking and coating it with your tongue, he gripped the frame of the bed in tight fists while twitching from the pleasure your tongue brought. Letting him squirm, you tasted the sweat he was secreting very mildly and found yourself getting even wetter from the sounds he was releasing. Grunts and moans entered the silent bedroom, giving a sense of urgent debauchery that would surely follow but it was when you felt his hips move up against yours, did you stop.

“Now, now.” You slid your fingers along his cheek while your thumb traced his bottom lip. Coating your skin with his hot breath, he said nothing then, worried he would have to answer for what he had tried to prematurely rid himself of. “We can’t have any of that. You do as I say, don’t act without proposal.” Tseng had begun to truly notice how much you had actually gotten from him over the years and cursed at himself for allowing this position to come to fruition.

“Y/N, I can no longer take this.” You found yourself with a complacent smirk across your lips, somehow not phased by the words he was telling you. Honestly, you became aroused by them and you wondered if that was okay or not. “Release me.” That simple order made you stand behind what you had originally planned for him and ultimately, decided against giving him what he wanted regardless of the consequences. This was a one and a lifetime chance for you and you were going to see it through.

“I can’t do that, Tseng.”

“This is not a joke!” He suddenly shouted and it made your anxiety come into play as you wondered what could bother him so much that would make him snap at you.

“Tseng, calm. down.” You advised while you slid your hands along the sides of his neck. “I already promised that I wouldn’t hurt you, didn’t I? Why don’t you trust me?” There was a long silence where Tseng didn’t know what to respond with. He did trust you, but there was something about the submission you were forcing upon him that made him worry. Perhaps it was because of...—

“I trust you.” Finally, he gave his answer and with those three words allowed you to continue in what you were giving him. You pressed a kiss onto his neck while whispering your thanks. Returning your lips to his nipple, you pecked them against his sensitive skin earning you a gratifying moan that warmed the very essence inside of you. Tseng had stopped squirming but you were not elated. You found yourself aching for those movements again but knew you could find a way to have them return. Crawling down his immobile body, placing your mouth in between his abdomen muscles, you open it to run your tongue along his skin in order to leave a trail of saliva. A feat you knew would leave him wondering where you would lead next while reminding him of where you have been. He once again spoke your name, to which you smiled when you met the lining of his pants. That was one step in the right direction of where you wanted him to remain.

Unbuttoning the single button which keeps his pants together, you stared up from the perspective of his pelvis and grew even hungrier for the sight of him wiggling under your control. Naked and disheveled. You chuckled in your throat. That was a word you enjoyed to use and couldn’t help but continue to repeat it. Probably because it was so rare to see that it was practically one of the seven wonders of the world.

You unzipped his black pants slowly, allowing the metal to vibrate against his already raging erection you could feel from beyond both the fabrics of his pants and underwear. Tseng’s breathing had become intoxicating to you; listening to it drowned you with pleasure you hadn’t felt before. You had begun to notice why he enjoyed dominating over you. The idea never occurred to you before; never thought too much of it until that very moment when you got a taste for it.

Finally, what you craved was only hiding underneath a tight pair of briefs. It was a trial in itself to tear your eyes away from his length you were well familiar with but still knew you wanted to tease him for a little while longer. Making sure to keep your fingers hooked inside of his pants so your skin travelled along his slim legs until you met his ankles, you left him bare underneath your eyes. Tossing the empty piece of clothing beside the bed on the floor, you pressed your weight onto the bed next to his sides again.

You wanted something from him. You wanted him to beg. You wanted him to plead with you to either stop or continue. You didn’t care. You wanted that sign of distress which would imply you had absolute control. That would’ve sounded horrible to admit, but Tseng had done the same on many occasions and you never minded it. He always rewarded you after you obliged his commands. It would be the same for him if only he obeyed.

Your hands gripped Tseng’s hips suddenly, forcing his chest to lunge forward a few inches, only as far as the belt binding his hands allowed. When your head aligned with his waist, your eyes branded his underwear with fornication burning through them. You saw a wet spot form in between his legs before you could even reveal the most prized possession that belonged to him. Immediately, you lifted your gaze to his face, just to search for what you so wished to find. Oh, did you. The blush that claimed his cheeks almost admittedly brought you to your climax as well but you apparently had more self control than he did. Plus, you assumed it was only pre-come. You found satisfaction in knowing he had much more to relieve.

A part of you wanted to pester him on the fact he had come already regardless if it wasn’t in it’s full entirety but you were too mesmerized by his almost nude body underneath you. Waiting to be unwrapped like a present you’ve been aware of weeks before the destined time to open it. Clipping his briefs as you did to his pants, you only gave pause when Tseng once again breathed your name into the quiet air broken only by his erratic, heavy breathing. You slowed your progression, only to make him feel as if you listened to him for once... To be reminded that there was no option he had but to abide by what you wanted. Gliding his underwear down the same trail his pants went, you were finally greeted by his excited flesh which waited impatiently for you to bury yourself onto it.

With him entirely devoid of clothing except on his arms, you could only stare for a long while at this display of skin you never truly got to patiently absorb with your sight. Your curious fingers started from his ankles and explored his legs until you reached his knees. Sliding the explorative hands over his inner thighs, you gripped them by the skin in between your pointer finger and thumbs to push them apart. You heard a whimper from your impatient and admittedly broken boyfriend but you couldn’t stop now. Not when you’re so close to seeing him break as a result of your dominance.

When you rubbed your hands along his inner thighs to reach his pelvis, he shivered against your hold. So close to his begging flesh but too far away where he couldn’t feel your fingers grasp him. You crept your devious face beside his length that was well over average and did not do just that. Instead, you went directly next to his penis before breathing against his shaft, letting the sticky breath mark his already steaming flesh. His hands could’ve broken the bed frame from sexual frustration but you did not relent. Not until he got the idea of what you desired of him. It only took him three breaths of yours to realize what you were trying to allude to.

“Pl-please, Y/N.” Victory and you knew it. Even though he gave into defeat, his submission would not go unrewarded. In the black of his sight, he felt the breath of your mouth removed from his pulsating erection and that openly frightened him. He needed to know where you went. He needed to see what you were doing to him. That was always one of the biggest sensual notions for the man, watching as he committed these acts to you. Similarly, he enjoyed staring at every moment you pleasured him. He cursed that you had no idea what you were doing to him mentally but something urged him to think that you were well aware.

Without warning, you enveloped his cock with your wet and soaked mouth. Tseng’s head arched back into the pillows, grasping the metal frame with such a tight grip his flesh could have fused with it. Sending it deep into your throat, you retreated so only the crown remained in your orifice to suck off what was left from his preemptive release. He tried so very hard to keep what was still inside of him from entering your mouth so quickly but when you held his thighs down with your elbows and grasped his testicles in your palms to rub them with your thumbs in fast circles all the while bobbing your head over his entire length, he couldn’t uphold the mental order to himself.

The liquid was quick to disperse into the back of your throat and even after it did, you kept your mouth over him while you collected all he gave. You stopped rubbing, but still held his thighs in the place they were in. When you finished swallowing every last bit of his salty and somehow sweet semen, you parted your mouth from his heated member which had already begun to soften in a satisfied transgression but you had no intention of stopping there. You had pleasured him, but you still needed to satiate yourself.

Undoing your pants as quietly as possible in hopes you would surprise him, as you learned quickly you enjoyed the sight of his body jerking uncontrollably because of it. After you shuffled your legs free of the clothing, you made sure to spread your legs far enough around his sides so they would not touch him until you made yourself known on top of his cock. Taking it into your hand, you stroked the still damp piece of flesh in order to ready it for your appearance. Tseng had actually repeated his plea from before, except this time you knew it was a beg for you to begin again. This you were certain of, and after all, you didn’t want to displease him. You were smirking as your hand massaged his cock before you consequently placed your entrance down to meet him. You could feel his heartbeat from the tip against your inner walls and you could swear it matched your own. Fast, excited and ready.

Pushing him even deeper into you, you must lift your hips to repeat your motion in order to bury him even further. Your thighs retreated to rest against the sides of his hips to aid in the friction between you, him, and the bed. You had created a steady rhythm which quickened when you reached the furthest he could enter. With every hit of your pelvis against his, Tseng’s expression twinged with ecstasy and yours did the same. Your hands rested on the skin he always kept clean just for you after he learned you preferred a clean shaven man above the penis. Your fingers felt the almost nonexistent stubble of hair that he had just shaved the night prior and it reminded you how much he truly cared by always showing you the little things he paid attention to.

Because of this, you felt the height of your climax come to pass but aware he had not finished yet, you worked through it in order to appease him. Making your pace much faster once the aftershocks of pleasure faded, you could tell he was near his finale once his breathing became heavier and the muscles over his abdomen tightened. You knew he was about to convulse into an aggressive finish and aware of how he felt made your second orgasm begin to shine. Within a matter of four more thrusts, he soaked your gateway with his seed just as you hit your peak of sensation. Slowing your humps, you gripped his sides as leverage to give you enough strength to ride out the rest of your orgasm. Shivering, both of your bodies were content and it took much effort to remove yourself from him. Once you did, you laid beside him but before you removed him from his contraption, you whispered into his ear, hidden behind his frizzy black hair.

“So, will you ever fight to go into work when you’re feeling sick again?” His chest that was still repetitively raising, only stalled momentarily before he answered your question.

“That depends. Will this always be my punishment?” Your hand lifted without your say to glide the tips of your fingers along his jawline to pull his face towards yours.

“It could also be a reward.” Tseng hesitated as he was unaware if that was a trick. His breath hit your face as you awaited another response.

“A reward, I would much rather be given when I am not bound.” You laughed tiredly, wiped from your expense at the act you’d just committed.

“That depends on you, Tseng. Will you fight me again?” His mouth did not move, as if in thought for a reply to give you. Only after you thought he wouldn’t give you one did you actually hear his voice.

“Only when I long to be tied, will I fight.” You knew what he implied. He would never want this again but therefore, you also accepted the fact that he would never fight against you again. Sadly, you wished you could dominate him more often and with his show of acceptance, you had a lingering hope he could perhaps be more willing to open himself up to you. Only time would tell of that.

“Then I’m looking forward to it.”

#final fantasy 7 #tseng x reader #loooooong post #hope this satiates the thirst us hoes feel for tseng haha #poor tseng. holy shit

[uneducatorsalliance]

Death by Capitalism: The Alienated Life of Troy Maxson

Erik Meier, on “Fences” by August Wilson

FULL TEXT OF FENCES 

WORK CITED

     In “Fences”, August Wilson illustrates the life and times of Troy Maxson in the stories and experiences he references in his children’s upbringing. They include oppression, abuse, corruption and abandonment from his caretakers and society. Marxist Theory outlines the structure of capitalist society which operates on the foundation of mode of production. This structure highlights the social ideology that manipulates and displaces Troy from his labor, his children and himself. Troy’s experiences become the foundation for the morals and lessons he misconstrues and elicits in his children. His false providence blinds him to the emotional, physical and monetary labors and debts cast on his father’s generation, by society, and cast onto him. This conflict is suspended in the balance of liberation for his family and oppression he casts in the process, operating in this society. He fails to witness the values of his labor, the true purpose of his life and place in the world. This leads to the repetitive cycle of abandonment and displacement that continue to contribute to their capitalist society.   

     In “Marx’s Use of “Class””, Bertel Ollman refers to two categories Marx considered to make up the structure of a developed capitalist society. The first category is the capitalist (owner of the means of social production) and the proletarian (employers of wage labor). The capitalist owns the means of production, therefore owning the means of labor and distribution of them (Ollman, 2).  Troy and his boss Mr. Rand, for example, may both be considered wage laborers, however the commissioner would be considered a capitalist, as would the contributors who hold stock in the ownership of their company. He determines the distribution of labor and prices set on their respective wages. Mr. Rand is white, and Troy is Black. The construct of racism is an extension of the social ideology of class separation. This construct works to benefit the social structure of this society, exploiting the labor of black individuals by devaluing them while profiting off of their labor. This determines Troy’s individual and labor as a lesser value based on the color of his skin and places him in a lower-class bracket. Mr. Rand, however, is white and offered access to the position that offers a higher wage. Troy recognizes his ability to play baseball just as well as the white men in his league and athletic cohort, despite being denied the opportunities to do so. He challenges this again to Mr. Rand and the commissioner when representing himself and his abilities to drive a truck and earn a better wage based on his skill. Regardless of skill and race, their wages are driven by and delivered to those in the ruling class of landowners (a third class category of capitalist society), described in “Marx’s Uses of Class” (Ollman 6).

      The foundation for Troy’s will to live a pursue a life of independence after his father abandons him, exists in the needs to sustain it. These needs include food, shelter access to labor and the income to provide them. The ideological barriers set by his society separate him from earning wages to sufficiently meet these needs and he seeks them by shamefully robbing from those who have excess or access to them. The means to his family’s housing, needs can be considered commodities, as they are met and provided by the income that grants access to them. This income is exchanged for the time Troy gives in the form of his labor, to his company in exchange for income. Marx refers to this exchange as commodification, or the monetary value placed on that time reserved for labor (output). This operates under what Marx referred to as the ‘mode production’, and is elaborated in Geert Reuten’s writings on The Capitalist Economy in which the ruling class seizes profit by owning the means of production that distributes access to goods and services to people as well as the labor and wages to produce them. Under the ‘capitalist mode of production’ highlighted in the book “The Unity of Capitalist Economy and State” Reuten says, “Along with this commodification and the wage income deriving from it, the households’ acquirement of production outputs of enterprises takes the form of commodified ‘consumption’” (Reuten 52). The pride that Troy demonstrates for his abilities to provide for his family is displaced. Though it is opposite his father’s shame (for not providing them) he still recycles and demonstrates the tensions, want and dominant control for quality life. When he discusses his hatred for his father, Troy struggles to define the trap his father is in. It is not the guilt of abandoning of his family that traps him, or the responsibility to stay. It is the societal barriers that keep him locked into his labor, void of anything beyond that, including freedom, love or care. This anchors him to a family he cannot provide for and does not wish to. 

TROY How he gonna leave with eleven kids? And where he gonna go? He ain't knew how to do nothing but farm. No, he was trapped and I think he knew it. But I'll say this for him . . . he felt a responsibility toward us. Maybe he ain't treated us the way I felt he should have . . . but without that responsibility he could have walked off and left us . . . made his own way. (Wilson 1.3.37-38)

     Though Troy is able to recognize the loyalty modeled for him by his father, it is coupled with abuse, betrayal and abandonment from his parents. The internalized hatred, anger and pain displayed in Troy and his father are reflective byproducts of the dehumanization and segregation placed on them by their society. This shapes their conflict which results in abandonment, consequently contributing to and demonstrating the same capitalist societal model. 

     Despite the ideological barriers set by society and recognized by Troy, he capitalizes on the inheritance from his brother’s military compensation as well as his own labor income. He now controls the means to his own family’s needs, and the distributions of them, including money, housing, food and protection. In an article featured in “The Black Scholar”, released post-civil rights movement, Alfonso Pinkney discusses methods of liberation attempted by Black Americans who remain segregated, oppressed and obstructed in white European American dominated capitalist society. He says, 

     “...and because the very notion of assimilation as defined by white                       Americans is racist in that it demands that they share and adopt middle-             class white cultural standards, that assimilation at the present time is neither       likely nor desirable” (Pinkney 37). 

     Troy’s capitalization is coupled with his assimilation and previous sacrifices to survive and provide as a Black man in America, Consequently, they have made him bitter and self-righteous. This is revealed in the disdain and conditional relationships he has with his children. Lyons is attuned to the disparities his father faces, who is undervalued and underutilized at his job. He wants no part in contributing to the society his father remains submissive to. Lyons would rather seek value in the labor that liberates him spiritually and serves him purpose and meaning. Despite his lack of wage labor experience, Cory is aware of his talents and the opportunities that follow. This includes access to education and the potential for an independent life, afforded to him by his passions. This secures value in himself but is quickly met with disapproval, from Troy and his authority from his experience with racial oppression in sports. 

TROY. I don’t care where he coming from. The white man ain’t gonna let you get nowhere with that football noway. (Wilson I.3.37-38) The same sentiment is shared when Lyons returns home to ask Troy for a loan while his wife Bonnie works to meet their financial needs. Lyons doesn’t seem ashamed that his wife is bringing in the income for their family, nor does he ask for any more than he knows they need to get by. Lyons and Cory can understand the value of their father’s labor and the liberties it has afforded them, though Troy feels owed for these efforts. 

    Troy’s monetary and material expectations for his children through labor and hard work are mixed with his desires for liberation from the society they must exist in. His demands for unquestioned respect and compliance adhere to this system which blind him from the values his children see in themselves and their father. The tragic theme in August Wilson’s drama is what Karl Marx referred to as Alienation. Mike Healy elaborates in Marx and Digital Machines:   

     “Marx argues that capitalism, in which labour itself becomes a commodity,          continues yet contorts this process to create a contradictory, conflictual              and universal alienated condition in which all relations under capitalism are        alienated relations” (Healy 8).

     In Marx’s third type of alienation is The Alienation of Species. The ‘Species being’ refers to the nature and spirit attached to, recognized and utilized by the individual self. This comes with autonomy, agency and will to serve the values of the self, allowing the self to connect with others. The alienation of nature and spirit (species-being) is the abandonment or failure to connect with the self. This is consequential, following what Marx’s described as the alienation of labor (the act of production) to the self which is replaced by the worker (Healy 10). Consequently, Troy no longer recognizes or seeks meaning and purpose in his own life and therefore cannot see the value in the lives around them.

     The societal conditioning that shaped Troy’s father has been internalized by Troy and attempted on Lyons and Cory. Cory breaks the tension and cycle of generational abuse in this revelation and last interaction with his father. 

TROY You got to get by where? This is my house. Bought and paid for. In full. Took me fifteen years. And if you wanna go in my house and I'm sitting on the steps . . . you say excuse me. Like your mama taught you. (Wilson 2.4.86-87)

CORY You ain’t never done nothing but hold me back. Afraid I was gonna be better than you. All you ever did was try and make me scared of you. (Wilson 2.4.88-89)

CORY It ain't your yard. You took Uncle Gabe's money he got from the army to buy this house and then you put him out.  (Wilson 2.4.89-90)

     Cory has just been stripped of his own opportunity for a future he wanted, leaving him to join the ranks of the same military that permanently disabled his uncle. Troy’s final effort to assert dominance is to threaten to abandon Cory and take away his needs and means for survival. This is quickly challenged as Cory resorts to an attempt on Troy’s life. In his physical defeat, Cory has exposed the travesty of his father’s entitlement and abuse, becoming the last person to abandon Troy. In this unveiling of Troy’s corrupt act of survival, his alienation is fully revealed to him, moments before his inevitable death. The labor, time and wages he contributes to his family, along with his brother’s stolen inheritance, act as the means of control and distributions he holds over them. These means also support and contribute to the liberty for his sons, to choose direction in their lives. This freedom acts as the resistance to the control and dominance Troy attempts to assert on them in this process of capitalist production. He realizes his life has no value as long as he fails to see beyond the monetary gain and labor capacity attached to it. This capacity and gain are the means that replace any vision of the role he plays in his family or to himself. Death now approaches to remind him of this and takes the liberty of relinquishing Troy Maxson from the shackles of his racist capitalist dominant society and his own imprisonment.

#essay #literature #fences #august wilson #playwright #capitalism #anti capitalist #anti racism #racisim #classic #classic literature #writer