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sloppy-butcher · 4 years

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Hello! It’s great to see another blog, and I’m so excited to see it grow! For now, tho, please pour me a mug of your finest Hillbilly hcs! I love my baby boi ;w;

bro, I literally have Hillbilly hc’s coming out of my ass. I love Max so so much and I will do anything to make him happy and keep him safe.

I’m going to give some general Hcs for him and then add some fluff or relationship ones as well.

Thank you so much for requesting him and thank you for your support

The Hillbilly (Max Thompson Jr.) HeadCanons

General Headcanons

His name was decided before he was even born. Max Sr. and Evelyn Thompson were very wealthy landowners and therefore needed a worthy heir to inherit their empire. So when Evelyn finally fell pregnant, the two set to work planning every small cogency and detail about their child’s future life. From his gender, what he would do with his life and even to his name, nothing about Max was not already written in stone. What the two could not predict was what Max would look like. They never let anyone see him, lying to their neighbors, friends, and family that the baby had died in childbirth. They were ashamed, disgusted and absolutely repulsed by the sight of the newborn. The flesh of his neck contorting downwards into his shoulder and his face a mass of twisted lumps of skin. They had decided to have a home birth, bringing their legacy into the world by their own hands, a show of total independence and control, so there was no official record of the boy, no legal, outside personal able to protect the baby. It was easier to hide him away, bricking him up in a hole in the basement than to deal with the shame of raising such a beast. What an unworthy, disgusting creature, they would never give over their wealth and name to such a deformed monster.

Evelyn tried breastfeeding Max once but as she watched his mouth latch on her mind screamed and she dropped him before running off and going to scrub her breasts clean from the filth. Throughout it all they never had the guts to kill the child, praying that God would take it back leaving their hands clean from his blood. But he kept crying and they could hear him. Through a cloth or bottle, they would feed him some milk hoping that the little sustenance he received was just enough to keep him quiet until he would eventually stave and die. But he never did and the two never had another child, Evelyn too traumatized by what came out her to ever attempt it again. She didn’t want another to end up looking just as he did. So the Thompsons lived out their lives with their dirty little secret locked up in the basement and growing bigger with each passing day.

Max was scared of the dark, the smallness and the smell of the room drove him to near insanity, but it was all he ever knew. Expect when the big man (his father) would approach him. Light would flood the room and Max would shy away fearful of the man and the brutal hammer he carried. The man would shout and if Max dared to make a move or noise he would be stuck and his food through carelessly over the dirt riddled floor. Sometimes the man would come in with a bucket and douse Max in freezing cold water. Max would shiver and try his best to cling to what little clothing he had for warmth. It was a miserable existence. But one day the big man walked into the room and Max noticed a slight limp to his walk. His head was losing color and the hair around his mouth was a wild, bushy mess. The man put down his hammer for a moment and without thinking Max grabbed it. The man yelled but his voice only seemed to anger Max even more. He raised the hammer high, mirroring the way the man used to hit him, and brought it down hard on the man’s head. There was silence. Breathing hard Max looked into the light and followed the sound of even more noise. He just wanted it to be quiet. As much as he hated that small dark room, the silence it offered him was all he ever took comfort it. He just wanted it to be quiet.

Years later the Adam Family took interest in the Thompson’s land having been abandoned by the owners. However, just like the previous tenants the family was never seen again, their chainsaw stolen and their bodies stuffed into the farm’s large grain silo. They did put up a fight, carving long and deep cuts into Max’s arms and across his face. When the deed was done and the world was quiet again, Max felt tired. There was red stuff all over his body but it was his red stuff, not theirs. He wanted to sleep but something in the darkness called him and promised to make him feel better if he followed. When local authorities finally took notice of the missing people, they investigated the land. And what they found truly disturbed them. In the center of the property was a huge dead tree and scattered all around the base and hung in its branches were the mutilated bodies of hundreds of cows and sheep. They found nothing living on that cursed land.

Relationship Headcanons

Max can’t speak and he barely understands English. It would be incredibly difficult to get through to the boy. The Entity speaks to him on an instinct level, playing Max through his desires and fears not needing to talk using words or concepts. But before you would even try talking to him you would have to gain his trust. Tell him through gestures and patience that he can trust you and allow you to get closer.

You met him by chance, or was it fate? You were searching through the woods, your mind wondering until it noticed the wall of yellow corn stand before you. Without thinking you walked into the maze, engulfed but the silence of it all you were swept away and lost within your mind. He saw you first. You were standing still, hands running up and down the many cornstalks with your eyes closed. You were quiet and small, an oddity to him. Usually, he would attack without think but he felt no urge to. You weren’t running so he wouldn’t give chase. Eventually, you saw him too, a large shadow standing amongst the corn. To say you were scared was an understatement but your feet never moved. Something about him made you stay put, he never moved and never tore his eyes away from you. After a moment you offered him a very soft, “Hey there.” He had never heard such a gentle sound before. And it took him a moment to realize that that sound was directed at him. He raised a shaky hand and pointed awkwardly to his chest. You breathed out a laugh and nodded your head slowly, afraid that sudden movement would trigger him to attack. “Y-yeah. you.” He blinked confused.

You would visit him more often after that and with each encounter, he would take you deeper and deeper into the corn until one day you reached the center. The Thompson House loomed over the field but he leads you away from the building, instead taking you to a large harvester. Max hated the house because it reminded him of the darkroom and he refused to get close to it.

You told him your name, pointing like he did to your chest. His eyes flickered between your hand and your face. You could practically see the gears turning over in his head. It was difficult for him to understand let alone try to mimic you but eventually, with enough patience and time, he did. He said your name through a gargled throat and lips that didn’t seem to work all that well. It barely even sounded English regardless you could have cried with joy when he called you. “Well done.” You praised and clapped your hands lightly. Max saw your face twist into an expression he had never seen before. You were smiling and it was infectious. He saw the light in your eyes and he felt his own face morph to copy yours.

After a while, Max tried telling you his name. He’d point at himself and would moan “MMm”. You would listen attentively, feeling pride well up in your chest. “SSs” he would hiss like a snake. After some guessing, you managed to say his name. Max. He was just trying to remember the name he always heard the shadows under the door say. Yet you were applauding him and encouraging him and for once he felt happy. It was nice. You were nice.

Max is terrified of the dark hence why the Coldwind farm domains are always lit in the haze of yellow light. When the Entity wants to punish Max for a poor job it would remove the moon from his place. The shadows would grow and Max would be consumed with the memories of the damned hole in the wall. So dark. So smelly. He can’t breathe. It hurts so much. You were with him once when he was being punished. He was curled up in a ball, heaving and moaning with building fear and anxiety. You watched him drown in his own mind and you knew you had to move quickly if you wanted to help him. You walked over to him and very gently touched him. He snapped his silver shining eyes to you and, after composing yourself, you offered your smile. “You want to,” you put both your hands together and placed them next to your cheek. “Sleep?” He looked at you and you felt him search you for something. A solution? Comfort? Whatever he wanted you were more than willing to give it all to him.

You sat down next to him and patted your leg. This was the closest you had ever been to the man and it was both a terrifying and thrilling experience. He eyed you warily half expecting some kind of joke or rejection but all you did was wait, your arms open and your expression understanding and warm. He went to you and placed his head on your lap. You lowered your hand and began to lightly run your fingers over his head. He whimpered and clung to you, his hand trekking up your thigh before gripping you as tightly as he could. It was like he was lost at sea and if he were to mistakenly let go of you he would sink and drown. It hurt but you bared it. You shushed him and more forcibly ran your fingers through his coarse hair, letting him know through physical contact that you were with him and that you would stay with him. Suddenly it wasn’t so bad anymore. Max suddenly felt better. If he closed his eyes he could feel you, the hum in your chest and the warmth in your body. You were secure and offered him rest within that shrinking darkness.

#ask #dbd the hillbilly #max thompson jr.#dbd imagines #dbd headcanons #max is literally baby and i will kill for him

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listdepot · 4 years

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Top 10 Indie Games of the Decade (5 - 1)

5. Celeste

I don’t find difficult games fun. I can understand and appreciate people who enjoy the challenge and I’m not afraid to dive into something hard as long as its balanced right but more often than not, I find it purely frustrating and the result often gives me a headache. Celeste is... a hard video game. There are moments in the game where I had to put my controller down, take a breath, and pick it up again before dying a bunch more times on a single screen. But never once did I feel frustrated as I often do with games that are difficult. Because that’s what Celeste is about.

Madeline, the protagonist, is just coming off of what’s implied to be a big mental breakdown and her bad brains and anxiety-riddled feelings feel the best way to defeat it is to climb Celeste Mountain. Despite warnings from others, and offers of help from fellow climbers, Madeline is determined to make it on her own. She has to do it by herself. And soon her determination is taunted by her own internal monologue, manifested on his mysterious mountain by a spectre-like mirror vision of herself.

But Madeline never stops. And despite my occasionally need to put the game down, neither did I. The game at no point pulls a dirty trick, even during the vastly more difficult B-side challenges it provides. Its pure pattern recognition. So every so often I would put my controller down, take a breath, and pick it up again. Because I was as determined to control my frustration as Madeline was to conquer her fears. The headaches I often get with hard games never manifested. Sure, my hands hurt after every level from gripping the controller but, in the end, I had felt satisfied, even proud, to have scaled Celeste Mountain along with Madeline. Even if well... take a look

16 hours and 3000 deaths and it was fully worth it.

4. Cuphead

I remember it fairly vividly. A quick cut of indie games for the Xbox One back in 2013 at E3. Just a sizzle reel of the games coming and I saw Cuphead. I believe my exact reaction on Twitter was “HEY WAIT WHAT WAS THAT HOLD ON” or something similar.

As someone passionate about animation history, it stood out strong for all the reasons everyone loved it. The bouncing rubber hose animation (fully hand drawn and digitized), the echoes of Fleischer Studios and extremely early Warner Bros, the intensely jazzy soundtrack full of washed out audio. But what made Cuphead really unique to me was it wasn’t just a tribute to one old form of media.

Sure, of course, the 30s animation style was my big draw, but as more stuff came out about it, I noticed it was essentially just Gunstar Heroes, Treasure’s incredible frantic run and gunner for the Sega Genesis. With that element, Cuphead transformed for me from a game that looks pretty and has a fun concept to a game I knew I would love. And, despite waiting 6 years for it to come out on a platform I could actually play it on, I absolutely did love it.

Unlike Celeste, I did eventually put down the punishingly difficult ode to old school cartoons, but I know its there waiting for me to pick it up again and marvel at every focused enemy encounter and every lushly animated boss fights and stages.

3. What Remains of Edith Finch

Annapurna Films came out swinging hard in 2017 with their game publishing branch Annapurna Interactive by releasing Unfinished Swan creator Giant Sparrow’s follow up game, a simple “walking simulator” focused on familial lineage.

Edith Finch returns to her old family home located off the coast of Washington. A large estate full of locked doors full of rooms frozen in time, preserved as shrines. You see, the Finches are, in a way, unfortunately cursed, forever plagued with dying in often odd circumstances. As you explore this home and Edith’s narration guides the player. Each room lets you experience a minigame of sorts, a vignette of that very death, told often from the perspective of that very Finch, each one interpreted in its own way.

As morose as that sounds, and there are plenty of sad moments (you play as a damn baby who drowns in a bathtub for crying out loud), its a game who’s whimsy and gallows humor is proudly worn on its sleeve. One story has you playing as a hermit Finch who lives in the home’s basement, desperate to avoid the curse, as you open cans of food over the years. That’s it. That’s the gameplay. And as soon as that Finch feels confident to have survived the curse, he walks out through a hole in his bunker, only to find himself on the railroad tracks with a train approaching.

And in a lot of ways, that’s what Edith Finch is about. Its a game that exists to be about the absurdity and peculiarities of death, what makes it sad, what makes it often funny and how it affects those who love those who have died. Edith Finch is like playing an interactive eulogy to a family that never existed and there are multiple moments that gave me a good laugh and plenty that made me tear up.

2. Undertale

I don’t have anything to say about Undertale. Its an insanely popular video game and for good reason. A story full of heart and a weird sense of humor, a game that subverts traditional RPG mechanics by not only letting you whether to fight or spare your enemies but turns an enemy’s attack into an always cool bullet hell sequence.

Its a game who’s characters are well known, its lines are repeated often, its soundtrack has been turned into memes and is intensely beautiful constantly.

I have nothing to say about Undertale because Undertale speaks for itself. It is an independent underdog game that blasted into the stratosphere of video games. Its good. Play it sometime.

1. Frog Fractions

I wish I could even begin to describe what Frog Fractions is but I can’t begin to express my love for this free weird browser game. Ostensibly a parody of edutainment games, you play as a frog eating bugs to keep them away from fruit and those fruits you collect go toward upgrades. Its fairly simple until, uh... it isn’t.

The ultimate joke of the game is that this fraction game about frogs is barely about frogs and, of course, never about fractions. The only fractions that you actually see are the weird points you gain when eating the bugs. And then that edutainment game becomes a shoot-em-up, which becomes a maze, which becomes a text adventure, then a DDR-like, then it just keeps going on like this until it just suddenly ends. Frog Fractions just kinda never stops until it very quickly does.

What makes Frog Fractions incredible to me is there aren’t many other games that came out this decade that, despite the vast connection between people that now exists with social media and chat platforms like Skype and Discord, elicited such a strong “Hey you gotta check this thing out” reaction as Frog Fraction did in my circle. I remember there being a lot of talk about both not spoiling what happens in it and helping each other try to solve that goddamn text adventure section where you’re fixing a spaceship.

Frog Fractions, for its pure word of mouth weirdness, managed to create enough buzz to even make a sequel, one that came out years after the first one that was slowly revealed with an insane ARG that included hidden images in other indie games (Firewatch included) and eventually launched inside ANOTHER game that you had to dig deep to find. And as fun and weird as Frog Fractions 2, it only has its progenitor to thank for the pure weirdness that it. A game that exists to be “Check this out”, especially in an era of social media, and a game that is just so fantastically bizarre that sends you on a journey through Bug Mars and beyond. That’s the best indie game of the decade.

#lists #games of the decade #indie games

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guitypleasure052016 · 5 years

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Take Me Home Part 9

This is part 9 to “Take Me Home”. Part 1 can be found here. Part 2 can be found here. Part 3 can be found here. Part 4 can be found here. Part 5 can be found here. Part 6 can be found here. Part 7 can be found here. Part 8 can be found here. Gifs and images are not mine. Any flashbacks will be italicized. NSFW and violent at points.

It was nearly two o’clock in the afternoon and the two of you had still not left the room. Even after telling him the entire story, Chibs still had questions. He was aware that reuniting you with your son would be a difficult task. He also knew that it would be a project that required extensive help from his brothers and he wanted to have as much information as he could before bringing it to the table.

What made things especially difficult was how your father and Jerry’s business was set up. They didn’t have a real “crew” that worked for them, however, they did have an endless amount of money and people desperate for that money. Your hometown had been hit hard by the recession, leaving people without a way to pay the bills and care for their families.

Jerry took advantage of this by hiring people who were the most desperate for money. You explained to Chibs how these desperate people typically fell into two groups. The first group being addicts who were not only desperate for money but were desperate for drugs which Jerry and your father supplied them with to keep them compliant.

The second group of people were those who needed money desperately and had no other options. These people had medical bills, families, mortgages, sick kids, and all sorts of difficult situations that made them especially easy for your father and Jerry to manipulate.

You hated sharing this incredibly ugly side of the business you worked in and you began to curl in on yourself, pulling your legs up and wrapping your arms around them as you sat on the edge of Filip’s bed.

“Hey lass, don’t go hiding on me now”, Filip spoke softly as he slid over so he was sitting right next to you. His strong calloused hands worked to loosen the vice-like grip you had around your legs.

“That’s only going to hurt your hand even more love”, he reminded you, nodding towards the bandaged hand curled around your knee. You sighed in defeat, knowing he was right as you had already felt the pain beginning to worsen.

You moved your hands from around your legs and covered your face, still feeling ashamed. You felt his lips press against your skin as he kissed your fingers, attempting to coax you out. As you peeked out, Filip offered you a sad smile and opened his arms to you.

When you didn’t respond, Filip shook his head and groaned, “Now you’re just being stubborn”.

He reached over and easily scooped you up, pulling you onto his lap. He wrapped one arm around you, holding you close to him. His other hand picked up your bandaged one, inspecting it for any further damage. Satisfied that you had not further injured your hand, he placed a quick kiss to your knuckles before placing your hand back in your lap. You looked up at him incredulously.

“I don’t get it, Filip. How can you still be so good to me? How can you sit here and hold me?”, you exclaimed truly in disbelief, “How are you not disgusted by my presence alone after everything I’ve done. I mean just….”

You were interrupted when a calloused finger was pressed against your lips. As you looked up at him, you could see his face was full of emotion. However, the two most powerful was a combination of love and anguish. His hand that had been shushing you, had now moved to cradle the side of your head.

He took a deep breath before responding, “(Y/N), I’ve spent years wanting this…wanting nothing more….nothing more than to hold ye. Sure, I’m pissed. I hate this shite love, but that doesn’t mean I'm letting you go, not ever.”

You turned your head in his hand and kissed the inside of his palm before whispering, “I love you, Filip Telford”.

He sighed and inhaled deeply, seeming to be at peace for the briefest of moments before leaning forward and placing a kiss upon your lips.

“We should probably go face the wolves now lass. Bound to be lots of questions from the guys after that little show we put on”, Chibs told you before gently moving you off of his lap onto the bed beside him.

“I’ll shout for one of the prospects to bring that chair back for ye”, Filip stated while standing up and making his way towards the door. He’d barely stepped away from the bed before you had grabbed onto his arm with your uninjured hand.

“Please Filip”, you pleaded as he turned around to face you, “I’ve already made a fool of myself in front of the entire clubhouse today. Can’t I just walk out with you like a normal person?”

He rolled his head back and sighed before returning your gaze, “You’re too damn stubborn lass”, he grumbled.

“C’mon Filip”, you begged as you scooted up onto your knees to the edge of the bed. You broke out one of your signature pouts that you knew he couldn’t resist.

“Ah shite, fine (Y/N), just take it easy aye?”, he requested before helping you off the bed and taking your hand.

Reentering the crowded main area of the club house was just as uncomfortable as you had expected. The loud and rowdy conversations going on around the room died down as the two of you walked into the room and all attention fell on the both of you. However, one quick angry look from the man beside you caused the room to go back to its normal state. Clearly, nobody wanted to risk angering the Scotsman.

Moments later, Filip’s friend Tig approached with a beer in his hand and an apprehensive look on his face.

“We all good here?”, the curly haired biker asked while gesturing between you and Chibs with his free hand.

Filip wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you to his side before responding, “Yea brother, everything’s right here. Just had some catching up to do”. You blushed and resisted the urge to cover your face as your embarrassment about your outburst earlier came flooding back.

“About what happened earlier”, you began, practically stumbling over your words as your anxiety and nervousness bubbled to the service, “I’m really sorry I was such an asshole”.

Tig let out a laugh before responding, “Don’t worry about it doll. I like ‘em feisty”.

“Jaysus Tig, I’m right here. How about hitting on one of the women NOT ‘ere with me?”, Filip replied, jokingly giving his brother a dirty look before pecking you on the forehead.

Tig laughed, “Alright brother, you win this round. To make it up to ya, want me to grab you that chair so she can get off her feet?”

“Please, no”, you practically exclaimed, “Please I’ll sit down, just in a normal chair like everyone else.” Before either man had a chance to respond, you were joined by the matriarch of Samcro.

“I hate to interrupt this happy little chat” Gemma began, “but Jax wants you boys in church, says its urgent”.

Now, here you were, sitting at a dirty bar table in awkward silence with the intimidating woman. Gemma had assured Filip that she would take care of you while he was meeting with the rest of the crew. As much as you didn’t want to be left alone, you were pretty sure that the emergency meeting was most certainly about you so you begrudgingly told him to go ahead.

You weren’t sure what to do with yourself, so you folded your arms and chose to entertain yourself with all of the noise in the room. While you were busy watching one of the prospects work up the nerve to talk to a scantily clad croweater, you noticed that you were getting some judgemental looks from the girls standing there. Suddenly feeling very self-conscious, you shifted uncomfortably in your seat and moved your eyes so you were looking at the ground.

The silence was broken by Gemma’s voice, “You had to know that you’d be the center of attention after that little stunt you pulled sweetheart. Want to escape the prying eyes of all these nosey bitches and come help me in the kitchen?”

Having to cook sounded absolutely miserable right now but you could only assume that it would be slightly more tolerable than sitting in this room where everybody was talking about you.

You nodded your head and stood up, following Gemma into the kitchen. There were a couple of women in the kitchen already but they quickly left the room after Gemma shot them a look.

“Sit on that stool there (Y/N), you can still rest while peeling these potatoes for me”, Gemma informed you while pointing to the seat at the counter. You complied and grabbed the potatoes and peeler that Gemma handed you and set to work.

You actually enjoyed the monotonous work, focusing on peeling each potato to perfection rather than having to focus on the intense conversation that you were sure was coming your way. The fact that Gemma hadn’t started the interrogation already was a shock but you weren’t complaining.

For close to 20 minutes, the two of you went on simply existing in each others presence, focusing on the culinary task at hand.

Seemingly out of nowhere, Gemma decided to break the silence, “So how old’s your kid?”

Taken aback by the bluntness of the question, you feigned shock.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about”, you lied, refusing to make eye contact with her, pretending to focus on the peeler in your hand.

“Oh cut the bull shit (Y/N),” she replied as she dropped what she was doing and moved so she was standing directly in front of you, “I’m not doing this dance around the subject nonsense anymore. Between how good you were with Abel, your rant about needing to protect people, and your little escape attempt. The only thing that makes a bitch act that crazy, is her babies.”

“Gemma….please…”, you practically pleaded.

“Don’t get me wrong sweetheart, I get it”, she interrupted, “You’re looking at a woman who’s done some real fucked up shit for her kids. But if you want my boys to help you and your….”

“My son”, you filled in the blank, resigned to the fact that if you wanted the clubs help, you were going to need Gemma’s too.

“If you want my boys to help you and your boy”, she continued, “You can’t keep all these secrets from us. You have to tell us everything”

“Don’t worry”, you moaned, “I already got the lecture from Filip”.

Gemma nodded her head, seeming to think to herself before warning, “I’m sure Chibs gave you the watered down version of a warning. You’re his girl. He doesn’t want to hurt you. But that doesn’t mean I won’t if you hurt my boys. Do we have an understanding sweetheart?”

“Message heard, loud and clear”, you assured her, “Trust me, I’m just here to get help finding a safe place for my son and me to land”. Gemma looked you up and down, seeming to accept your explanation, for now.

“So this boy of yours, is our favorite Scotsman the father?”, Gemma asked with a judgemental tone to her voice. You were thrown off by how blunt her question was and it took you a moment to respond.

While you gathered your thoughts, Gemma pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lighter, lighting one up before leaning against the counter, waiting for your response.

This whole experience felt so bizarre to you. You had spent so much time and effort not only keeping your son a secret but keeping the paternity situation a secret as well, not only out of embarrassment and shame but also for safety sake.

Back home, the only person who knew that Jason might not be the father was Jerry, and he used it as a weapon against you. Having to tell all of these people all of your biggest secrets over the past couple of days was frankly exhausting and you were getting even more overwhelmed with each “big reveal”.

You took a deep breath before responding, “I hope so. That’s what I tell myself. There’s nobody else I’d want to be his father. Sadly though, there are two other options The first obviously being my husband, Jason….”.

You paused for a moment to look at Gemma’s face which showed nothing but a blank expression.

“The only other person….that it could possibly be…...well….is Jerry”, you practically whispered, hating to admit that horrible truth and remember that horrible night. That was a statement that clearly shocked Gemma as her jaw practically dropped at that admission.

“Wait a minute”, she began, “Jerry, your father’s business partner? Jerry, the asshole who beat you within an inch of your life and left you for dead? You two were a thing?”

“No, no, no, it wasn’t like that at all”, you quickly replied. The words practically falling out of your mouth, wanting to distance yourself from the monster who tormented your every waking moment.

“Well sweetheart, it was clearly SOMETHING if he could be your son’s father”, Gemma reminded you, cocking her eyebrow at you, clearly wanting the full story”.

You lowered your eyes and bit, not knowing how to explain one of the biggest mistakes you had ever made. Anxiety coursed through your veins and you felt your heartbeat quicken as you were brought back to that terrible night.

It took you a few moments but you were finally able to gather yourself enough to tell Gemma that story.

You and Jason had just celebrated your third wedding anniversary. While his version of celebrating which involved bringing you home some bar food and falling asleep on top of you wasn’t exactly romantic, you appreciated that he was actually spending time with you for once.

As the “business” grew and became more successful, you began to see less and less of your husband. He was Jerry and your father’s official third partner. The goofy and hard working man that you had fallen in love with had now turned into a drunk angry person who you didn’t recognize.

You would often go days without seeing him, some nights he would come home long after you had gone to bed and would be up and out of the house before you awoke. Other nights he simply didn’t come home at all. Growing up with a father similar to the man that Jason was now, this did not necessarily alarm you. This had always been the norm.

However that all changed one day that spring. You’d received a final notice on a bill in the mail, and needed to track down Jason immediately. Apparently, he’d forgotten to make payments on the truck and if he didn’t pay then it was going to be repossessed. He didn’t allow you to touch any of the money, so this wasn’t a project you could complete on your own.

Hopping in your old car, you drove around town, attempting to find your husband. The last place you stopped at was a warehouse on the outskirts of town. You were relieved to finally see your husband’s truck but were confused when you saw a convertible parked next to the truck.

Any of the dealers that you worked with would never want a car that flashy so you knew it couldn’t have been one of them. With a sense of unease, you stepped out of your car and walked into the warehouse. It was practically empty except for a light on in the back room, leading to a small office.

Walking as quietly as possible you approached the door, unsure of what you were about to walk in on. The sight that met you was so shocking it made you sick. Jason was in nothing but his underwear sitting in his office chair. There were two women with them, both of them completely nude. One was sitting on his lap, kissing his neck, and the other was sitting on the desk, snorting a line of cocaine.

The women barely paid you any mind, however, you made direct eye contact with your husband. You would think he would make up some half ass excuse, try to explain himself, but he didn’t. He simply looked away from you and kissed the woman sitting on top of him.

You stomped out of the warehouse, angry tears streaming down your face. As you got in your car and began driving away, you came to the realization that you were driving in circles, with nowhere to go.

Eventually, you made your way back home. Normally you wouldn’t want to worry your sick mother with anything but at that moment all you wanted was to curl up in your mom’s arms. You walked into her house and crawled into her bed beside her.

Knowing better than to ask, your mother simply held you in her arms as you cried and cried until you fell asleep in her arms.

Jason came home the next day but he never mentioned what had happened at the warehouse. In fact, the two of you never talked about it, the infidelity, the drug use, none of it. The only aspect of your life that changed was that he stopped attempting to hide it. He would come home reeking of liquor and cheap perfume.

He barely touched you anymore, except for the days he came home a little tipsy and in the mood for some grab ass. You always hated yourself the next morning, but you couldn’t help it. You needed something, anything to escape the constant pain. You couldn’t get drunk. You couldn’t get high like everyone else. You had things to do, people to take care of. While your husband and father used drugs and alcohol to escape, you used sex.

Sex was all the connection left between you and Jason. The more he became involved in the drug business, the less you recognized the man you had married and fell in love with. You had fallen out of love with him long ago, and Jason, he seemed to simply tolerate you. He treated you as a chore, rather than someone he was supposed to love.

You thought you could go on like that, just going through the motions, hell your mother had done the same thing throughout her marriage to her father. That was your plan until your entire world changed on your fourth anniversary.

For the first time in a very long time, Jason seemed to be putting in some effort. It was your fourth wedding anniversary and he suggested going out to dinner at some restaurant across town. It wasn’t much but it was more than he’d given you in a very long time. He had even left $50 on the kitchen table for you to buy yourself a new dress.

After making sure your mom was settled with her evening nurse, you ran back to your house to get ready. You spent the next two hours preparing yourself, making sure you looked absolutely perfect. You sat on the couch waiting with your hair done, fully made up, wearing a knee-length red dress and a pair of heels.

After an hour of waiting, you broke out the bottle of wine that had lived in the back of your fridge for months. By hour two, you had downed the entire bottle of wine. Hour three, your heels were abandoned, your hair had fallen down around your face, and your mascara was ruined from the angry tears that had fallen down your face. You should’ve known better, you should have expected this, but it still hurt.

You were practically asleep when you finally heard a key turn in the lock. The world spun as you sat up, debating whether you should tear your husband a new one or just ignore him and go to bed. Much to your surprise, you weren’t met with the face of your husband, instead, it was your father’s business partner Jerry walking through the door.

A combination of your intoxication and your shock caused you to stumble and surprisingly Jerry caught you. He looked you up and down with a nasty grin on his face, getting quite the eyeful since from his position he could see directly down your dress.

You backed out of his arms and squinted at him in confusion before blurting out, “What are you doing here? You’re...you’re not Jason”.

“Hmmmmm, I’ve never seen the princess let loose before. You’re quite the sight”, he sneered while taking a step closer to you.

You shook your head, confused both from the copious amounts of liquor that you drank and by the fact that Jerry seemed to be hitting on you.

Seeming to enjoy the fact that you were drunk and uncomfortable, Jerry stepped towards you again, this time slipping his arm around your back acting as if he was helping to steady you. His other hand grabbed your chin and pulled your face to his, kissing you roughly.

Completely shocked at his actions, you pulled back, placing both hands on his chest and pushing against him. However, between his strength and your intoxication, he didn’t budge.

“Stop it, what are you doing. Where’s Jason. I shouldn’t….Jason”, you exclaimed, confused and overwhelmed by everything that was going on.

“Your man got caught up with work at the warehouse. I needed something from his safe so he told me to stop by and nab it. Didn’t say anything about his delectable wife waiting at home for him,”, Jerry responded, smugly looking you up and down, using both of his arms to pull you flush against him.

“Jerry...Jerry, stop, what are you doing. Jason’s my husband, your business partner. This is wrong”, you attempted to reason with him.

“Oh come on (Y/N), you know Jason’s out there fucking every crack whore we come across. If he’s out there having fun, why shouldn’t you? Besides, it’d be a shame for this get up to go to waste”, Jerry challenged before leaning in and sloppily kissing your neck.

You didn’t know what you should do. On one hand, you absolutely despised the man holding you in his arms. He had personally caused an immeasurable amount of pain in your life. On the other hand, you couldn’t deny that Jerry was right. Jason couldn’t care less about you or your marriage. He didn’t care if he hurt you. Why should you care if you hurt him? Besides, it’d been a long time since Jason had shown this type of interest in you.

Taking a deep breath, you swallowed your pride before responding, “Alright, fine.”

“Alright?”, Jerry questioned, clearly knowing what you meant but wanting you to say it, wanting to make the humiliation worse.

“Alright as in ok, I’ll do this. But we never speak of it again”, you replied, giving in to what he wanted.

“Oh don’t you worry sweet thing”, Jerry scoffed with a nasty wolf-like smile on his face, “This will stay locked in the vault. Plus any time Jason is pissing me off, I’ll just think of that time I fucked his wife”.

“Shut up before I change my mind”, you retorted, rolling your eyes at his disgusting comment.

“Don’t worry babe, I’ll give you what you want. Why don’t you show me back to your bedroom”, he taunted, releasing you from his grip. You know he wanted you to be the one to take the lead, further your humiliation.

Folding your arms across your chest, you nodded and walked back towards your bedroom allowing the disgusting man to follow.

The second you entered the room, he was on top of you, eager to claim you as his. As he backed you onto the bed and began kissing your neck, you had a realization. This was it. You’d reached rock bottom and your rock bottom was underneath the body of this man you loathed.

You felt like you could barely breathe when you came back to reality. The memory of that night and the person you were back then was painful and humiliating. Refusing to let yourself cry in front of the strong woman, you clenched your fists and took in long, deep breaths.

“That’s some complicated shit baby. Chibby know all that?”, Gemma asked, breaking you from your anxious state.

“Yes, he knows. He knows...everything”, you replied, your voice breaking towards the end. Gemma sighed and walked over to where you were sitting at the counter, placing one of her hands over yours.

“Baby I’ve seen the way he looks at you. He’s not going anywhere”, Gemma assured you. You offered Gemma a small smile, not knowing how she knew but thankful to hear her kind words.

“Just no more secrets, got it?”, she instructed lifting her hand from your own and pointing her finger at you.

You nodded your head and laughed, “I’ve got it, don’t worry. No more secrets”.

“Alright, well now that we’ve gotten all of that out of the way, let’s get back to cooking dinner for all of those impatient hungry people. I’m going to go find Chucky to help us finish up in here. Don’t move a muscle, understand?”, she told you. You nodded your head and Gemma exited the room.

Gemma had barely left the room when you noticed the pot on the stove was boiling dangerously close to the top. You weren’t sure how long it would take Gemma to find Chucky and you didn’t want to risk the pot boiling over and getting everywhere. It couldn’t hurt that much to stand up and simply turn the heat down a little.Everyone was just being overprotective.

The second you stood up though, you could tell something was wrong. You were immediately lightheaded and felt sick, almost as if you might throw up. Grabbing onto the edge of the counter, you tried to regain your balance but it was all too much. Before you had a chance to call out for help you fell to the floor, hitting your head and losing consciousness.

Chapel had just let out and all of the guys were filing back into the main room. Chibs grabbed a beer from behind the bar and went looking for you. He didn’t see you or Gemma, so he figured the two of you had moved somewhere else in the clubhouse. Before he had a chance to go looking for the two of you, he heard the smoke alarm go off in the kitchen and he went running.

When he walked into the kitchen, he was met with a horrifying sight. You were lying unconscious on the ground, blood coming out of a cut on your forehead.

“Oh shite (Y/N), fucking shite”, he exclaimed while pulling you into his arms, “We need some help in here!” He was so focused on you that he hadn’t noticed everyone who had followed him into the room.

Gemma quickly grabbed the pot off the stove and yanked it away before the water boiled over onto the floor. Jax called Tara into the room to examine you. The second she looked at you she told him to call an ambulance. At this point, Chibs noticed everyone who had joined the two of you in the kitchen.

Spotting Dr. Knowles, he quickly called out to her, “Please doc, please come help her”. Chibs gently laid you on the floor to allow the doctor to look you over. He stood up from the floor and nervously watched as Tara felt for your pulse. Tig placed a hand on Chibs’ shoulder, a silent show of support for his brother.

“Pulse is weak. Somebody calling that ambulance?”, she called out, quickly going into doctor mode as she started compressions, performing CPR.

“Oh god, please”, Chibs cried out, “Please save her. I can’t lose her again!”

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myheroaizawashota · 5 years

Note

Hey there! I was wondering if I could request a fem reader x aizawa fic where the reader is a teacher at UA lifelong bffs with all might and everyone assumes they're together or at least into each other which prevents aizawa from saying anything but ends up fluffy! also maybe have aizawa and/or others walk in on easily misinterpreted situations just for shits and giggles? Thank you!

[*salivates and flails body at the thought of this prompt* yes boo YAS BOOO YAAAAAAASS. Sorry I absolutely ADORE All Might. I think being best friends with Toshinori/All Might is one of the the most purest friendships one could have!! So I’m DOWN for this! Sorry this took so long to get out my inbox has been a bit full and I’ve been getting super carried away with the pieces I’ve been writing haha]

Most things in life didn’t bother Aizawa. He was rational and calculated with every one of his emotions, making it very difficult to get a rise out of the aloof and deadpan man. It took quite a bit to boil the mans blood, but you made it look easy. He nestled his face into the currently soft scarf wound loosely and lazily around his neck, listening as his fellow teachers in the lounge did nothing but gossip. A frivolous pass of time if you asked him, though as the teachers all speculated on your relationship with the worlds currrent top pro hero, he couldn’t help but grow tested as he listened in. “So what’s the deal with Y/N and All Might...are they a couple.” Nemuri hummed gently shoveling rice into her mouth as she waited for a response.

Aizawa rolled his eyes unamused by today’s lunch conversation. If you asked him he’d tell you it was because gossip was childish and should be left to the students, but in actuality he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy ravage through him as he thought of you in the arms of anyone else. Over the few months you’d been teaching here at U.A the 1-A teacher and yourself had become rather close. In fact you’d become so close that subconsciously Aizawa found himself completely consumed by the thought of you. It was odd, when he was with you he felt himself smile more. He felt himself enjoying the work day just slightly more than usual. He even found himself sleeping less during his lunch breaks, he preferring to spend the time with you instead. Aizawa never had a desire to be with anyone. Up until this point he convinced himself that he didn’t need a significant other in his life, that it’d be just another vacuum of his energy and time. Then you came into his life and now all he can do is think of spending all his time with you. His irrational feelings for you drove him wild, all he wanted to do was grab you by the wrists and press your lips together. The desire for your company was foreign to him, you were the only one to make him crave attention.

A sigh rippled through aizawa as he watched Yamada stretched himself out, pushing his chair back with the toe of his boot “I’d put money on the fact those two are totes a thing! Everywhere one goes the other follows, it’s your classic love song!”

Unable to listen to the conversation anymore, aizawa picked himself up from the table eager to leave the home base of all the gossip. “You’re all juvenile. The students talk less about these kinds of things than the rest of you.”

Leaving the room, aizawa wandered through the halls, hands tucked away in his pockets as he slugged his way down towards your classroom. His chest filled with emotions as his feet shuffled further down the hall, pausing when he heard laughter coming from the other side of your door. He felt his breath hitch as his heart skipped a beat in that moment, the image of your smile smacking him right in the face. It was enough to pull the corners of his lips into and small hardly noticeable smile. Drawn to your laughter like a sailor to a Sirens call he moved in closer, eyes peering through the small cut out window on the door. Disappointment shattered through his body as he watched your arms wrap around All Mights neck, his heart sinking to the pits of his stomach as he watched how happy you looked.

“Yagi! Put me down!” You giggle as the intimidatingly large but incredibly sweet pro hero held you in a bridal type style. “Stop you’re tickling me you giant jerk!” You smile as the others finger tips gently pressed and poked at your side you squealing as you wiggles around his arms.

A deep roaring laugh shook through Toshinoris body as the toned symbol of peace continued to ceaselessly tickle away at your soft spots “Ha ha! I see you’ve had enough! This will teach you to be more careful next time about climbing up on desks instead of just asking me for my help to reach things”

Aizawas hand slowly let go of the door, swallowing the emotions that had began to swell in his throat. Seeing you with All Might like that, he could understand how everyone could jump to the conclusion that the two of you were a couple. The thought of that hurt, his mouth tugging down into a frown as he lowered his hands back into his pockets, eyes cast down to floor. He’d rather be tied down to a chair and forced to listen to Mic’s never ending chatter at full blast than to stand and see anymore of this. With a heavy sigh, he closed his eyes and shook the images of you from his head as he walked away, though the sound of your laughter and voice still followed him as he walked on more somber than usual.

“Some hero you are assaulting your damsel” you laughed finally shoving yourself out of Toshinoris arms.

The instant your feet hit the ground the other let his muscle form fade he giving a few pained coughs. “Hey i don’t assault all my rescuees, just you” he smiled, knuckles brushing away a few droplets of blood that spilled past the corner of his mouth.

You couldn’t help but laugh, lightly shoving the other hero playfully “serves you right for tickling me you god damn villain”

He couldn’t help but smile, head shaking as he pulled out your desk chair and sat himself down. You and the worlds beacon of hope had a long history together, though it was no where near what anyone spectated it to be. You were both aware of the ridiculous rumors circulating around the campus of your alleged relationship, however they were all just that. Ridiculous rumors. While the bond you and Yagi shared was one forged by the fires of time, it was in no way a romantically relationship. It drove you crazy when you heard the way the others talked about the non existent spark between you too, especially since it was starting to effect your other relationships. Since you’d started here at U.A one teacher has stuck out to you the most. Just thinking about him was enough to make your chest ache. He wasn’t exactly the warmest of men, in fact getting close to him was like getting close to a wild horse. Though you managed to do the impossible and tame all the rough edges of typically emotionally detached teacher. So caught up in your own thoughts you almost didn’t even realized when your friend snapped his match stick thin fingers in front of you“y/n? You doing okay over there or what?”

You shake your head clearing yourself back to reality, a blush brushed over the bridge of your nose, a hand scratching the back of your head as you laughed nervously “yeah I’m fine, i was just...I got distracted.”

The elite pro gave a hum, a smirk dancing at the corners of his mouth. “Right, distracted thinking about Aizawa again?” Immediately your eyes widened you trying to deny him your truth, though that look in your eyes was enough to tell him everything he needed to know. Laughing lightly he leaned himself back in your chair arms folded across his chest “why are you still standing here anyway? I thought we talked about this, didn’t you say today was the day you were finally going to talk to him about things?”

He was right, after weeks of complaining over your feelings, Toshinori finally had talked you into confesssing yourself to the other. You didn’t say anything in that moment just giving your friend a nervous smile as he looked your way. He motioned towards the door with sunken eyes and you knew what you had to do. You made your way down to your fellow staff members class room, you giving a soft knock on the door. As anticipated there was no answer. You shoved the door to the side, poking your head in to see the shape of his sleeping bag full. With a smile you pushed your way into the room closing the door behind you, all but jumping when the lump on the floor all but growled at you “get out.”

Your chest tightened as you stopped in your tracks. “It’s jus-“

“I know who it is. I’m not in the mood for company. I have 15 minutes of break left and I’d prefer to use it for sleeping.” The tone of his voice was so corse and rough, you flinching at its sound.

It was unlike the man to turn down your time and attention. Typically he’d put up a fuss, making some comment about how you were taking him away from his nap but he’s never once told you that he’d prefer sleeping to the warmth of your company. Ignoring his warning you crouched down allowing your body to kneel down on the cold floor next to his. “Not even my company? I know I’m late for lunch..I’m sorry Shouta. I got a little caught up with All Might..”

“I saw.” His response was cold and robotic, your lips tugging down as you saw his body curl up. He had seen you and Yagi together? You knew there was no reason to, but you felt ashamed and dirty that the other saw your antics.

“I fell.” You pushed out, shoulders hunching up as you crushed your ears in the process. You felt a burst of anxiety course through your body as the need to compulsively explain what the other had seen took you over. You watched as the others body twisted and turned in his current hideout, the scratch and shuffle of the sleeping bag muffling the sound of your increased breathing. As his soft tired eyes met yours with concern you let the words fall almost like vomit from your mouth, it uncontrollable. “It’s kinda funny but also it’s kind of not, haha. See I was trying to get this book from the top shelf of my book case and I couldn’t reach because I’m so short, so I started climbing on some desk to get some height but I didn’t realize my footing on the desk tops was so unsteady that when I went to stretch myself up to reach for the book I almost cracked my skull open! If it wasn’t for All Might I would have killed myself.”

Shouta rose a brow as he listened to your story. It made sense to him, the way All Might held your body would be supported by the story you gave him. He moved to say something but before he had the chance, he saw the way your chest began to rise and fall quicker. He noticed the glossy glean in your eyes as your hands trembled and his heart stopped. Unzipping the sleeping bag he pushed his body to bend at the waist, he sitting straight up as he pulled you right into his chest giving you a hug. You felt yourself shake more as you were pressed into Aizawas chested, leaning into the calming touch of his palm against the back of your head as he held you tightly against him. “Just take a breathe Y/N. I’m...sorry” he murmured out, the scruff of his chin resting against your forehead a deep sigh passing his lips. “Admittedly....when i saw you and All Might together in the class room I was hurt. Up until now I couldn’t rationalize why I got so mad when i saw the way he held you back there, though now that your here in my arms I think I understand. I like you a lot Y/N. I understand if you’re uncomfortable due to your relationship with All Might, but I don’t think I can lie to myself or you anymore by hiding just how much you mean to m-“

His eyes widened as he was cut off mid sentence by the warmth of your lips. It didn’t take long before his body relaxes under yours, hands moving to cup your cheeks. He allowed himself to sinfully enjoy the kiss just a moment longer before parting your lips, hands holding your face back from his as he let his eyes capture yours. “You kissed me? But what about-“

“Yagi is just my friend Shouta. I’ve never seen him the way I see you.” You whisper, watching as his eyes began to light up. “If we’re both being honest...i came here with the intentions of telling you the same thing you told me” you blush eyes casting down to the ground. “I like you too Shouta.”

The pounding of his heart could be heard in his ear, as he took in every inch of your face. He could see the genuine emotion in your features the corners of his lips tugging up as he pulled your face back to his, lips hungry for yours. You smiled and pressed him back against the floor with a laugh “looks like your the one who kissed me this time”

His face looked brighter than it usually did, even if the corners of his lips only twitched you knew inside he was smiling back. “Stop talking. Do you wanna maybe finish this nap with me?”

You gave him a grin, lips pressing once more against his before sliding your body into bag, you two pressed flush against each other. With a strong blush on both of your faces you closed your eyes and laid your head against his chest. “I’ll nap with you as long as you promise that when we wake up, this won’t be a dream.”

Pressing a kiss to the top of your head, his arms wrapped securely around your body, eyes already closed. “Deal. Now stop talking and sleep.” It wasn’t how he imagined this moment would be, but he was grateful to have you so close to him like this. Lord help the person who tried to wake the two of you.

#aizawa shouta #aizawa x reader #hizashi x reader #toshinori x reader #toshinori yagi #yamada hizashi #bnha requests #bnha x reader #my hero academia x reader #my hero academia

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talesfromtheindigoghost · 5 years

Text

Good Intentions

I never remember how I get here. Not at first, at least.

It’s always the same, yet it feels like it’s the first time this has ever happened.

It’s heaven. Maybe. If you took any little kid out of sunday school and asked them what heaven looks like this is probably going to be about it. You would probably get an even better idea if you handed that same kid a package of crayons and a blank piece of paper and asked them to show you.

An enormous land of clouds, existing right in the middle of an unbelievably vast blue sky. The sun shines in the distance, brightly, yet softly. It’s a warm, secure kind of light. Golden rays of god’s love illuminates a land of angels and goodness. Honestly, even with the way I feel about everything, it’s breathtaking.

Nature, in its most mysterious form.

Until you spot the clearly man made gate made of shimmering golds and silvers, spun into the gaudiest, flimsiest fences you’ve ever seen. Next to it, and far more disappointing, is the small booth labeled “ENTRANCE TO HEAVEN” in even more unnecessary, self-congratulating dazzle.

The light sings, filling the air with its musical splendor only for it to resonate uncomfortably along the hollow metal structures and decorations.

It’s alarming how familiar it is, despite it being the greatest single mystery man can never solve without a dire commitment.

The man in the booth and I meet eyes as I approached the booth. I can’t tell for sure, but he gives me a look that immediately tells me we’ve met before and that it wasn’t a good experience.

“Hey Peter.” I don’t know why I said it, but it feels right and it comes out of me with all the casual ease of greeting the guy that works at your post office. I’m sure of it now. He recoils at first, but then catches himself and stays firm.

“SAINT Peter. Saint.” He corrects me. I’m not sure why, I KNOW why, but I don’t quite know why, but I grin like an asshole. I nod, of course, of course. “Lucky I was Catholic, huh?” The proud agent of heaven, grand and noble arbiter of whether or not you get through the obnoxious gates, adjusted his blue polo shirt and vest and pulled a small walkie talkie from the pocket of his khaki cargo shorts.

He brings it to his cheek and lets it press against it for half a moment, he gives me the kind of glare you always get any time a retail worker has to call their boss. We both know it was inevitable but it’s still such a hassle. “It’s different for everyone. This is what you know.” Saint Peter exhales the words out like a tired sigh, one moment of freedom before they have to pretend to be a perfect professional.

I already knew that, I thought, but it felt like I learned it for the first time.

The small toy chirped as he pressed down the button.

“He’s here. Yes, HIM.” We locked eyes as I heard static crackle from the speaker. “Yes, again. Yes, the same way.” I wiggle my eyebrows as I jokingly adjust the noose around my neck. “He was turned away, as I SAID- ” we both catch him getting angry, I shake my head. “- mentioned. Mentioned in my previous memo.” it chirps a final time as he lets go of the button.

We’re both waiting for a response, but I can tell he’s sweating. We both know this is a tense situation. I can already tell by the look of future regret on his face, the strained exhale and closed eyes, what his boss had to say.

That’s alright, I told myself. I knew this was a strong possibility.

“Sorry.” I can tell the guy means it by the way his shoulders slump and the word seems to weigh a ton. He hooked the walkie talkie back onto his pocket and sighed. “The boss says you’re not allowed in and you know why.” I should be pretty pissed off, but I gave him a pretty tired smile and waved it off.

“It’s alright, I get it. I’m not gonna shoot the messenger.” Watching him relax a little after I said that made me feel a bit better about the situation. I hold the dangling rope for a moment so it doesn’t hang as I lean over the desk and spot a mini-fridge right by the corner of the booth.

He shoots me a grin and bends down to take something out of it, a single cold can of cherry cola that tings quietly as he sets it in front of me. I popped it open and took a grateful sip as he opened his own can of ginger ale.

“It’s different for everyone.” He said again, but much sadder this time. I closed my eyes and took another sip. The pleasant taste turned sour as the crisp chill of cold bubbles was replaced by the warm, flat taste of some kind of beer I’ve never cared to get too familiar with.

I opened my eyes to find that the radiant clouds of comfort were now the toxic miasmas of suffering. The gentle music dancing in the air distorted into an unease that vibrated through your very soul and rattled you from the inside out.

I spot a red, handsome young man sitting on a stool next to the kind of podium you see at the entrances of fancy restaurants of night clubs. The pretty jerk with the incredibly important job of checking a list of names to see if you’re on it and who would never let you forget how socially important his job is. I knew he was smug incarnate before he even opened his mouth.

I double check the can in my hand and see it’s the same cans I remember seeing littering the whole place after any given sleazy party. I take another sip out of sheer spite as I approach the guy in front of a shattered portion of an old brick wall, blocked off by a single velvet rope suspended between two poles made of flesh and stone, much like the wall itself.

He locks eyes with me, pulling a rose gold encased smartphone from the pocket of his trendy suit with one hand and raising a finger with the other as if I’m too stupid to understand the concept of someone needing a moment to make a phone call as they’re already making the call.

He gives me a silent expression of “Well? Don’t you see I’m calling?” along with a headshake before he looks down and notices the can in my head and curls his lip in disgusting. I take another sip, just to appreciate the disgusted look he gives me.

It tastes like blood.

“Yes, sir? He’s here, just like you said.” He smiles brightly and his voice has that same forced kind of asskissing tone the smile does. “Right like always, sir! You truly are smarter than God!” He shoots me another dirty look, as if he’s daring me to say something about his obvious brown nosing. I scoff and raise my hands in that universal gesture of “I didn’t say anything.”

He lowers the phone and cocks his head towards me. “Do you know why they sent you down?” I loosen the rope around my neck. “No idea.” He starts to say something but then realizes I’m messing with him. I can tell he’s pretty pissed off that I got him with that, even just for a moment as he gives me a venomous smile.

“Yes, same as last time. No, I’ll tell him, but we both know he’s not going to be happy about that.” I laugh a pretty snotty laugh, slipping the rope off of my neck and casually tossing it towards the red punk just hard enough to gently slap across his face as it went over his shoulder.

“Yes, sir. I will let him know.” He says the words through clenched teeth and annoyance, the call comes to an abrupt end. I catch a brief glimpse of an older, more powerful looking man in a much finer suit leaning from behind the open door just beyond the broken wall. He disappears the moment he notices I’ve seen him.

I take another tip. It tastes like blood.

It’s alarming how familiar this is.

The pretty little twerp squirms in place, acutely aware that he’s been left alone out here with an awkward message to give. “Boss says you’re not allowed in yet. He doesn’t know how this is all going to play out just yet, so grats, you get some more time to mope about it.” There’s something about the way he says it all that tells me that me showing up here just ruined his chances of a promotion anytime soon.

“Whatever.”

I look down at the can again and shake it just enough to see how much is really left in there. By the sound and feel of it, just about a quarter full of whatever it was at this point. Without even thinking about it I suddenly found myself throwing the can at the foot of the podium hard enough to splash all along it and most of the man’s pant leg.

I turned around, closing my eyes before he has the chance to say or do anything in response.

I wake up in my bed a moment later as if I had simply caught myself daydreaming, the tang of blood and the cloying aftertaste of off-brand cherry cola reminds me what I was just doing.

As far as I can tell I’m alive and well, save for being intensely hungry.

I look across my bedroom and notice my corpse hanging from one of the rafters along the ceiling. I watch his arms swinging weak as his dead, white eyes weep thick tears of tar like blood.

This reminds me that everything was real, as it always has been.

My heart beats faster in fear, an indescribable sensation of terror and anxiety that can only be felt by seeing your own dead body. The kind of unknowable horror that can only be experienced by watching as your dead body twists and distorts into something less than human. Its fingers turning into claws of splintered bone and tar, its jaw turning into a maw of blades that clatter in grostque threats.

To watch as its flesh blackens and corrupts before your very eyes.

I stand helpless as its newly reshaped feet plant firmly onto the ground, allowing it to tear the noose from its neck and let out a deep, vibrating noise from its rumbling body in a feral hunger.

I should be terrified of the monster in front of me, the monster threatening to put an end to this story for good.

I can’t think straight. My heart beats even faster as he begins to awkwardly lumber towards me, each step seeming to teach it to walk better, faster and with more purpose.

It occurs to me that I should run but something seems to be stopping me.

I’m so hungry.

#horror #short story #cw: suicide mention #cw: death #cw: body horror #body horror

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commanderquill · 6 years

Text

Of Future Days Past

“I’m from the future,” Bart declares, his bold voice amplified across the stage, over the heads and into the ears of the hundreds of people surrounding him.

Jaime feels his breath catch. He tries not to let his anxiety show. There’s only one person looking at him, and that’s the boy standing on the stage with a microphone taped to his face, feet shoulder width apart and back rim rod straight like he’s preparing for battle. But even though it’s only one set of eyes, they’re the most important ones, and the ones that need encouragement the most. Jaime tries to put on his best smile. He’s sure it comes across shaky and uncertain.

It’s been a year since the public found out about the Justice League’s Watchtower in space, the weapons they mentioned nothing about, and the influx of aliens that could easily masquerade as humans. Butting heads with the government was bad enough, but a government gets its power from the will of its followers. Previously, the government could only do so much against a group of people supported by its citizens.

But after the invasion, the public grew less inclined to sympathize with the League. Jaime had almost expected the opposite -- hoped for the opposite. But he should have known better. The Justice League proved that they were on the side of the good, that the people who attempted to discredit and frame the League for wrongdoing had horrible intentions, but that means nothing when it comes to the question of trust. The Reach lied to them, but so did their so-called protectors.

The new initiative was Wonder Woman’s idea. If the League can reach out to the people, display their trust in the people, then maybe the people will trust in them again. Green Lantern volunteered to go first, and he walked on a stage months ago, the act broadcasted around the world as billions of eyes awaited with bated breath for the truth. He stood on that stage and explained to the entire world what a Green Lantern really is.

A police force, the protectors of the universe, but that wasn’t good enough. He explained what powers a Green Lantern ring, the emotion and the purpose behind it. He told everyone who the Guardians of the Universe are, where Oa is, and every other color on the spectrum.

He told the public what a Yellow Lantern is, and the effect of one on a Green Lantern, although he smoothly neglected to mention the incredible power of the color yellow itself. His victories and failures, bared for everyone to see.

Hal Jordan may be a founding member of the League, but Jaime certainly didn’t know near enough about him, not until that moment. Neither did the rest of the world. Regularly absent, the Green Lantern wasn’t often thought about, and knowledge on who he was, where he came from, whether or not there really was more than one, was a scarcity.

That wasn’t the case for long.

The Flash volunteered to go next. That was today, months after Hal’s daring move, and Jaime has been sitting here already for at least an hour as Barry described the source of his powers, his connection to the speedforce, what the speed force is, why it exists. He talked about some of his feats, some of his failures, and all the tricks and stunts he’s learned throughout the years.

Bart never volunteered, not out loud, not to the League or to the world. But when Jaime first walked in an hour ago, blending in with the crowd, and slipped into the back where Bart was pacing and asked why Bart was so nervous, it all spilled out.

“It can’t happen again,” Bart said, gripping his own arms with a haunted expression on his face, gnawing his lip. “But it will,” he continued. “Because history repeats itself. But I can...say something. I can…”

Standing there in the skeleton of the sound room, tubs of meticulously coiled wires and empty microphone stands scattered around, sheltered by padded walls and dim lights, Bart’s costume seemed dirty. When it isn’t being reflected by the sun or brightened by the smile on his own face, that’s what it always looks like. Dirty, ill-fitting -- wrong. But Jaime hadn’t made the observation until then.

This is not an advised course of action. The Impulse is exposing possibly vulnerable information--

That’s the point, Jaime thinks vehemently. Shut up, I’m trying to listen.

Jaime is sitting now in the front with Connor and Cassie on either side of him. The rest of the team and the League are scattered amongst the crowd, unwilling to risk their identities by close proximity to one another. He had spotted Artemis on the far right side of the audience on his way in.

He sees out of his peripheral the way his two teammates stiffen in shock. Barry had introduced Bart on his way off the stage, but Jaime doesn’t think Bart had warned anyone else about his stunt.

“Well, actually, I guess that’s not true anymore,” Bart continues, the spotlights trained on him reflecting harshly over the plastic of his goggles. “When the Flash told you that he can time travel, he didn’t completely explain what that means. Because time isn’t a line. It isn’t even a circle. It’s more like a...sphere. A timesphere. You can move down into the past, you can move up into the future, or you can move left. You can move right. You can move into the sphere, towards the center, or out, towards the surface. The past may be set in stone, but there’s not just one -- there are millions of other versions of the past out there, and there will be millions more, because right now, somewhere, what has already happened to you is still happening to you.”

The audience is dead silent. “Are you completely confused now?” Bart says, with something like a rueful grin. “That’s nothing. Think of right now. Think of that thing you’re going to do after you leave here today. Are you going shopping? Are you going to class? Picking up your baby from the daycare? What if you don’t? Because everything you decide to do is just that -- it’s a decision. And in a decision, there are choices, and with choices come possibilities. And that’s all the future is. A possibility. It hasn’t happened yet, and even the speed force doesn’t know what it’s going to be, so the best thing it can do is give you glimpses of what could be. What can happen, if you choose to go to the grocery store or you choose not to. Because maybe in this universe, you do decide to go pick up milk, but in the second that you decide that, another universe is created where you decide not to go pick up milk. In this universe, the Nazis lost World War II, but somewhere else one of the decisions that made them lose wasn’t made, and in that universe the Nazis won. That’s called the multiverse.”

Bart pauses where he’s standing, in a walking stance with his head angled to the ground and his arm half out like he’s holding something. “So when I say I’m from the future, it just means that I’m from one of many futures, and it’s not necessarily the future of this time. I come from the future where the Justice League lost. The Reach defeated the Justice League, and the world ended.

“No, I guess that’s not true, either. The Earth was still here, at least. But Central City wasn’t. The people weren’t. The government was gone. The Reach took over this planet completely, and there was no one left but runaways and slaves. That’s the world I grew up in. I grew up in chains, in a cage, with a collar around my neck.

“Imagine falling asleep every night on the ground. The ground is too hot and you don’t know why, and you’ve never seen winter except in stories. You can’t enjoy the stars because you can’t even picture them in your head, and even though you see aliens every day who seem one step away from disposing of you like any other meatbag, this place seems totally alone. But you like the nights better, because the day constantly burns at your skin, and you’re always breathing in dust except when you’re breathing in ash, and the only difference is that ash comes in chunks. Imagine a world where the ocean is poison. Acidic. Destroyed by your invaders so that even if you escape, you’ll never find food.

“Meanwhile, the elderly people you know, the ones in their 50’s, so incredibly old for our standards that they’re considered ancient relics, keep telling stories about flowers, and the taste of strawberries, pecans, and cookies. The soothing feel of hot tea after a cold day. They keep telling you stories you want to hear but at the same time really, really don’t. Because while they get to live in their fantasy and rot their body away every day from the knowledge that they’ll never see home again, you’re being poked and prodded at with needles because those unblinking, black-eyed aliens want something you have, your very DNA, as if you haven’t already given them enough.

“If you imagine it well enough, you might know a sliver of my life.

“In that life, I met a man who became my only friend and the savior of this entire world. No one will ever know it, and he will never know it himself. I’m never going to tell him, because that would mean there’s a world that he destroyed instead of saved, somewhere out there still, and I can’t do that to him.

“He built me a time machine.” This is a lie, Jaime knows, but if Bart says that he can build a time machine too, he’ll attract more villains than he's already going to. “Crazy, right? I bet most of you here right now didn’t even know time travel was possible until the Flash came up here and told you himself. But it is, and my friend gave one to me with the criteria that I would go back in time, to the moment when he killed the Flash, and stop him.

“I did, if you didn’t notice. We thought that would be enough. We thought that if the Flash stayed alive, the Justice League would have the chance to beat the Reach. It took more than that. But now, that entire world where I grew up? It’s gone.

“A few months ago I watched as my dad was born. Roughly 20 years from now, I’m going to be there watching the day that I’m born into a world where I get to be friends with the Flash himself, a hero that I never previously knew. I get to go to high school, something that didn’t even exist for me. I get to have friends that were probably never even born in the world where I used to live. Yesterday, I saw a man that I remembered watching die in my arms, and he was laughing.

“And here’s the thing: All of it is possible because of one decision, one event that shaped history. And most of you in this room will probably leave and one day forget what I’m saying, or maybe some of you won’t even believe me. But every night I go to bed and dream of a world that now remains as nothing more than a nightmare, and I’m the only one in this universe who will ever know it. There’s a relief and a sadness in that.

“Because I remember that world every time I eat a new food I’ve only heard about in stories. Every time I eat a strawberry, or an apple, or steal my cousin’s Chicken Whizzies. And I’ll never take any of it for granted. But you will.”

Jaime is shocked to find that Bart is starting to get blurry, and it isn’t because he’s vibrating. Jaime blinks and lets the tear roll down his cheeks because he doesn’t want Bart to see him rub at his eyes and draw his attention.

“I see it every single day. You don’t know what you have. Any time someone comes and sucks up to you, you accept it because of pride, and you listen and follow when that same someone turns around and blames someone else for lies, because of anger.

“It’s right in front of you, constantly. A man in a suit preaching to you that he’s going to make everything better and take all the pain away, because you don’t want to do it yourself. There are people taking power from you and hanging it over your head and you’re letting it happen because it’s easy, and what’s the worst it can do?

“I’m here to tell you that the worst that can happen, will happen. Sometimes it’s in our control. Sometimes it’s not. Always, we have a choice to fight against that worst case scenario, or give up and let it happen.

“People tell me that their thoughts are only their opinions, and opinions can’t harm anyone. But are your opinions really your opinions, or the opinions of someone else? We’re impacted by what people say around us, and the more they say it, the more we remember, the more we repeat instead of question, the closer we become to megaphones than individuals. We let the rhetoric we hear now dictate what we’re willing to listen to in the future. It’s called normalization. If we give in even a little, compromise even a little, normalize what our leaders can get away with, we normalize those actions for the future. Every good compromise means giving a little ground, but when you keep giving ground, that isn’t compromise -- that’s apathy. That’s you not willing to stand up for what you believe because you’re letting others tell you what you should believe, and you’re following them when they say to just let them have what they want.

“Complacency is a disease. One that gave the Reach a world to exploit that wasn’t theirs, that killed you and sacrificed your children. You don’t remember it, and that’s the most dangerous part. The people who remember World War II are the ones who don’t want war. The ones who don’t are the ones who glorify it. So what will this become? A horrifying reminder that we’re not invincible, or a claim of pride that we are? Without knowing first hand what almost happened, the next time a leader tells us to trust them, will we believe them without question because we stopped anything bad from happening last time? Did we really learn nothing at all?

“Be the change you want to see. It’s a cliche phrase, but my reality is this: If you don’t decide to be that change now, someone else will decide for you. Eventually, you won’t have a choice, and you’ll spend your last days regretting that you never saw reality for how real it can be.

“My childhood gives me nightmares, but the worst thing I can imagine is forgetting it, because then I just might let it happen again.”

The room is so still that Jaime can’t even hear a cough, and Cassie’s elbow has already hit him twice in her attempts to unobtrusively wipe at her own eyes. Jaime pats at his cheeks because if he rubs at them, his nose and eyes will get too red to hide when he sees Bart later.

“Thank you,” Bart says, and walks off. Slowly, so everyone can see him, his head held high, and his steps only falter when Jaime stands up and starts clapping. He’s joined by Cassie and Connor and the whole front row and the second row and then the whole audience, but he doesn’t turn back around.

The clapping continues even as the lights turn back on.

Jaime leaves his friends behind as he hops onto the side of the stage while the cameras turn off and people start rising from their seats. He races behind the curtains, where Bart is standing stiff, Barry’s hand on his shoulder.

“You’re not mad?” Bart is saying, quietly. Barry’s eyes are the saddest Jaime has ever seen them, shadowed in pain and dark with empathy, his skin pale with stress. “We did this so they’ll trust us… I’m telling them not to.”

“You’re telling them not to be complacent towards their leaders, and you’re no one’s leader,” Barry responds, just as quietly. He kneels and grips Bart’s shoulders. “None of us are. We’re symbols of hope. We can have fans without followers. We give smiles instead of political speeches for a reason -- and no, I wouldn’t say that was a political speech. Inspirational, if anything.” He smiles then, small, as if a too-wide one would scare Bart off. “I’m so proud of you.”

So is Jaime, which is why he has a hard time waiting for Barry to back away before he barrels right into Bart’s back. His arms come up to wrap around his friend in a death grip, to the point that he doesn’t think Bart would be able to turn around and hug him back.

The Impulse’s heart rate is dangerously elevated.

I’m just impressed his heart is still beating at all, Jaime thinks. That must have been terrifying.

He can feel Bart shaking under him, and when he loosens his grip to take a step back and finally look at him, Bart takes advantage of the release to turn around and bury his face in Jaime’s collarbone.

The Impulse is close to vulnerable areas of the human--

“He’s not a vampire,” Jaime mutters, annoyed, and startles when he feels the shaking increase. It takes him a moment to realize that it’s because Bart is laughing.

“I don’t even want to know the context for that,” he says, and Jaime feels his face heat up. He wonders how Bart could be laughing right now, but it’s probably just nerves. Once Bart starts laughing, it doesn’t seem like he’s able to stop, but he still clutches Jaime close.

Jaime rubs circles on his friend’s back as he calms down. “I’m so moded right now,” Bart whispers. Jaime only barely catches it.

“Would you be able to laugh if you were moded?” he wonders out loud. “Or would it just be an evil cackle? Like Dick’s old Robin cackle?”

“Dick’s… Robin cackle?” Bart wants to know, and Jaime cranes his neck away from him dramatically.

“I can’t believe Wally hasn’t shown you the videos,” he exclaims. “I know what we’re doing today.”

Bart grins up at him. It’s as much tentative as it is bright.

They’re watching Dick pour a bucket of syrup all over Wally’s hair in an old Cave video on Jaime’s TV when Bart’s phone starts ringing. Bart rejects the call without looking at the caller ID.

When Jaime raises an eyebrow, Bart shrugs sheepishly. “It’s BC. She, uh, I think she wants me to go in for counselling? Or something?”

“Sounds like a good idea,” Jaime says neutrally. He continues before Bart can get offended. “Everyone on the team has already gone at least once. She wants to make it a routine thing, but our schedules are so screwed up that anything routine is a pipedream.”

“I’ve lived this long without therapy,” Bart comments.

“Therapy isn’t just for when something’s wrong with you,” Jaime points out. “Sometimes it’s nice to just have someone to talk to, who won’t judge or repeat anything you say.”

Bart shoots him a look that suggests Jaime is an idiot. It’s a dramatic move, considering it means twisting completely around on his perch sprawled out over the bed, leaning up against Jaime’s shoulder, so that he can see his face. “That’s what you’re for.”

“Still not a therapist.”

Bart sighs with his whole body. He deflates like a popped balloon. “Her office creeps me out.”

“It’s four walls, a desk, and a couch.”

“She creeps me out.”

Jaime stares at him.

“I just don’t want to, okay?” Bart pleads.

Jaime gives it a moment, watching the way Bart chews at his lip anxiously. “Okay,” he agrees finally.

Bart pushes away from his shoulder abruptly to look him properly in the face. “Okay?” he echoes.

“Yup.”

“Just like that? You’re not going to force me?”

“I’m your friend, not your mom.”

“My mom’s dead, so you can’t be her anyway.”

But Jaime isn’t going to settle for pessimistic comments today of all days. “Actually, I’m pretty sure she’s somewhere out there, crying for a diaper change.”

Bart slumps again. “Smart-ass.”

“The scarab has taught me well.”

Bart snorts.

They sit there in silence for a few more extended minutes, but then Bart slowly leans back into Jaime’s side. “You’re my best friend, you know that?”

It was never specified, but implied. Jaime doesn’t think Bart has even ever gone to the rest of the team’s houses -- then again, more and more of them are moving into the Cave, so maybe that’s not the greatest method of judgement. “I better be. Do you realise how much money I’ve sacrificed in snacks that I never get to eat?”

Bart sticks his tongue out and steals Jaime’s popcorn, just to spite him.

Sometimes, Jaime wonders how that’s possible. How can Bart, who just admitted in front of the world that he still sees the Reach in front of him most nights, look at Blue Beetle and see a friend instead of a foe? He doesn’t know, and there’s a cowardly part of him that doesn’t want to ask, in case somehow bringing up the question will make Bart finally remember what Jaime did to him. “You’re insane,” Jaime says.

“I know,” Bart says casually, dismissing the comment, but Jaime shakes his head.

“No, I mean it,” he says, and waits for Bart to give him his full attention. “You’re insane and you’re...amazing. You know that, right? You’re amazing.” Bart doesn’t answer, he just looks down at his feet. “I’m glad you’re my best friend.”

Bart beams up at him now, so quickly Jaime is fascinated by his apparent inability to get whiplash, all rosy cheeks and windswept hair and buttery lips. He flops down into Jaime’s lap as TV-Wally hangs TV-Dick from a wall hanger by his costume.

“Me too.”

#i realize that bart isn't quite that eloquent in any canon #but this is my canon so suck it #i needed a way to vent a year ago and wrote this and just found it today #i think all my thoughts and feelings about this were well enough explained in the text #you don't need an author's note #i might post this on ao3 #bart allen #jaime reyes #fanfic #finished #complete #bluepulse #platonic bluepulse #broship #young justice #yj #the reach #bart and barry #barry allen #i hope you liked this!#i'm nervous about posting it #it was another one of those things that was never supposed to see the light of day #maybe i should start posting all the different stuff i have tucked away in my files #because there's a lot of it #impulse #blue beetle #oh also #jaime definitely gets bart to go to therapy later #he doesn't just leave it there #but he knows that he has to take it slow

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bambamramfan · 7 years

Text

Gender and Class

A while ago some reply asked me to finish my thoughts on the complicated relationship between gender and class in America, since while the Sexism and Objectification essay argues that both men and woman face serious problems with how much agency they are considered to have, it should not be read that those are the only problems people face related to gender, especially under the class structure.

So before this, you might want to read

Sexism and Objectification

Class Has Normative Power

SSC on Celluar Automata

Here, by class, I do not just mean “how much money you make” or even “your socioeconomic group” but the entire ladder by which some people at the top have a scarce resource, and people lower down are consumed with trying to appear like people higher up, in order to get more of that scarce resource (and also just by psychological self-perpetuation at a certain point.) Anyone who’s seen a highly prestigious field (theater, academia, the Inner Ring) knows the ordering I am talking about - and it sometimes has nothing to do with money.

(However money is so incredibly important, that class usually comes to include money as one of its rewards and signifiers eventually. Which is why class and economic status are such conflated subjects.)

***

The simplest model would be to identify women as in a lower class than men when all else is equal, due to their general lack of power and money. While this might capture the unfairness of the situation, it doesn’t seem to work like a class dynamic.

In particular, you don’t have the fashion phenomenon where women try to imitate men so that they might get the same treatment.

(You do, however, get the reverse of this, where men obsess over how to make themselves distinct from women.)

So let’s put that model to the side for a moment.

***

It is a truism of life that Men Want Sex. Those men, they just have one track minds, and all they care about is sex. Not self-respect, not money, not caring about the other person, not being pro-social, they just want that sex.

Okay, among us enlightened liberals we know this is not true for all men. But there’s awareness of a cliche, a model of the default, negative-affect man who “just wants that poontang.” Not you readers men, but those men, who give the gender a bad name. The cliche is that he is so driven by this need that they ignore everything else in their life for it.

Except this makes no sense and doesn’t fit the available data of even these neanderthals.

Conventional Wisdom: Men want sex.

Naive Alien: If they just want to orgasm, they can go masturbate. Or watch a porno.

CW: No, it has to be with a person.

NA: Well they’re set with other men-

CW: A woman person.

NA: Seems like it’s easy enough to get a prostitute on your world.

CW: No they have to want to give it to you. Paying for it doesn’t count.

NA: What do you mean doesn’t count? It’s a primal need. Why does it matter where it comes from. Do humans enjoy food only if the animal wanted you to enjoy it?

CW: Having to pay for sex is only for losers.

NA: Okay, well it might take a while to find a partner, but once you do, you can go at it like rabbits, problem solved.

CW: Monogamy is fine, but it’s not what men “really deep down want.” Not the greedy men. They need lots of different women, even if only briefly.

NA: Fine. Well, there seem to be a lot of very lonely women out there, who don’t seem shy about asking men for sex.

CW: Nah, they’re unattractive. Doesn’t count again. I mean you might sleep with them when bored, but they aren’t really the all-consuming lust men think about.

NA. Sigh. Well what are these particular features a woman needs to be attractive? Big breasts, long hair, what?

CW: You’d think that, but actually it’s a more minimalist thing, looking kind of innocent and hard to get. Kate Upton as the central example. And mostly looking like someone from the same sub-culture as that man. For that sort of woman, a classic bro will do anything to get in her pants.

NA: Yeah this doesn’t sound like a “physical need” this sounds like “a desire to acquire high-status items in a particular way that attests to your value.”

I saw a wonderful example of this in SomethingAwful’s classic “Fashion SWAT,” which like a lot of powerful humor, captures the beliefs of the ideology perfectly.

Dr. Thorpe:He's having sex with all the other goofy assholes in the International Male catalog. They're like the drama kids in high school, they all get laid all the time, but only with their own horrible, horrible kind.

Which is to say “Teens are primally crazy for sex -- but it only counts if it’s with the right group of people. And this is such an intuitive thing we can use it as a simile for other situations.” Talk about submerged class tensions!

Once you see that every time our culture talks about “wanting sex” it’s really talking about “class envy”, you’ll see Marxist sociology all around you.

(To be clear, there seem to be two different desires in regard to sex. Sometimes people do seem happy to take sex in whatever form it comes in: like at a kink party where every body is valued for how they can contribute to a scene. It’s sex as a hobby like anything else.

...And there’s the other kind, where the dude or couple comes in who are only interested in partners who are petite women under thirty. It wants to possess high-value objects. Both drives exist, but it is this second one that is considered the “fundamental desire of thoughtless men.”)

***

When we think of the above-referenced stereotypically feminine traits, the ideals women are encouraged to display, what do they boil down to?

Elegant, sleek, smooth.

Youthful looking.

“Classy”

Lacking toughness and aggression

This sounds like an upscale pied-a-terre.

And the ideal “rough, rugged, macho” man is the opposite of all of these. It’s a cute binary.

But it’s also an astoundingly class-based binary. Those features women are pushed to attain are basically “look like the local upper class.” This romantic image of the couple is “lower class figure doing the work to care for, protect, and acquire the upper class object.”

None of this is exactly shocking, but it’s important to keep in mind when asking “how do different gender role make us feel about our class position?”

Women trying to fit their gender role, will find it doubles up with class-climbing.

Pro: That’s one coherent image to try to focus on, that gets a lot of social rewards if you succeed. (This is partly why “upper class women” are a bedrock of conservatism in many societies. Things are working for them.)

Con: If you can’t present a face of smooth sleekness and classy elegance, you are doubly damned as both unfeminine and lower class. And things that make it harder to look upper class (such as racial stereotypes, aging, lack of aesthetic skills) can produce severe anxiety.

Men trying to fit their gender role, will find it conflicts with normal class signaling.

Pro: Whether you look dirty and rough, or smooth and refined, there is at least some narrative to see yourself in.

Con: The desire to look upper-class to society can often conflict with the need to appear as “a real man.” Ie, underclass-associated behavior (violence, aggression, earthyness) may be counterproductive in professional circles, but also be an inextricable part of your male identity (see Dave Chappelle’s “When Keeping It Real Goes Wrong.”) Or success at upper class performance can simultaneously make you insecure about your “manhood.”

***

Again, all of the above is just discussion of stereotypes and social constructs. As even the gender binary crumbles, certainly the cliches about it are even more unreliable. But these stereotypes do exist, they are widespread, and they have incredible performative efficacy over us. Much like love exists only because we believe in it but it still is very real, so do these fantasies of all our gender and class obligations.

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avaliveradio · 5 years

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10.7 New Music Monday Release Radar with Jacqueline Jax

Musicians create music to express their creativity and skill. Listening to new music is an experience and an opportunity to connect with that creative spark. Explore some exciting new music from creators all over the world recently discovered by our host Jacqueline Jax as she searches the far corners of the globe for talented songwriters and music creators who are telling their truth to bring the listener a unique experience.

SUBSCRIBE to our broadcast here: www.wavve.link/avaliveradio

Listen to the Show: https://anchor.fm/ava-live-radio/episodes/9-30-New-Music-Monday-Release-radar-with-Jacqueline-Jax-e5mkhg

Artist: Patient X

New Release: Overdose

Genre: Pop / acoustic

Sounds like: Ed sheeran / blackbear / alec benjamin

Located in: Sydney, Australia

How would you describe your new single? Darker vibe. Sad, raw and an emotional short story. This song has a lot of personal meaning to me (patient x). .. I have always believed that 'What goes up, doesn't always come back down'. If you are struggling with depression or anxiety especially in social situations do not turn to drugs to appear "normal". I would like to encourage people who are going through this struggle to remember there will always be someone out there who will listen and help you. Think about the people you could be leaving behind and reach out to them for help.

What’s coming up next? I am in the process of making my next single! Overdose has sprung forward so quickly. This has been a terrific experience and I can’t wait to bring another single to release.

LINKS: Spotify - https://open.spotify.com/track/6HblobZkYHXiOOSTHqMgmf?si=gz-LRNhLTCKZg0L5jsaL7g Reverbnation - https://www.reverbnation.com/patientx4 Instagram - https://www.instagram.com/patientx_music

Artist: Sleuth

New Release: Make A Meal Out Of You

Genre: Genre: Funk/Pop Sub-genre: Dark funk, dark pop

Sounds like: Portishead, Tori Amos, Amy Winehouse, Janelle Monae

Located in: Portland, Victoria, Australia

'Make A Meal Out Of You' is a dark minimalist funk song, with Sleuth's characteristic vocals, laid over growling basslines, sexed-up Rhodes, and delicate percussion. Make A Meal is part of Sleuth's highly praised cathartic debut album 'Umbra Anima', titled due to its themes exploring both the shadows and the light. Vocally Sleuth draws on her appreciation of Beth Gibbons, Amy Winehouse, and Tori Amos; instrumentally there are hints of Prince and NiN in the writing as well.

This song drips honey but has sharp teeth, hinting at the primal, sometimes predatory nature of relationships. Listeners have jokingly commented that the song is so hot that it belongs on a '50 Shades of Grey' soundtrack - so turn the lights down and the music up, but try not to get bitten. ;)

https://open.spotify.com/track/6p4QEeOwdVsVQ9sAoZaTCD?si=vLyLJopXTbehgqJxB4urDQ

The music we are creating is...

'Make A Meal' is a very special song to me. I wrote the lyrics over two years, during which my perspective on relationships changed dramatically. I wasn't able to complete the final verse of the song until I'd worked through some really big issues and learned some big lessons about how humans behave with respect to relationships and lust.

I do this because...

making music is like breathing to me. There is not one day that goes by where I'm not singing or writing - it fulfills me, and gives me something to be proud of. When I perform I get to choose the best parts of me, my talent, and define them, and then share them with the audience. That's a rare privilege that performers get - the opportunity to choose how other people see them. When I perform Umbra Anima, and the rest of my catalog, I get to tell a story, I get to say something about what I've learned. Making music that will live on after I'm gone is an incredible gift!

LINKS: SPOTIFY: https://open.spotify.com/track/6p4QEeOwdVsVQ9sAoZaTCD?si=_-bB4rfoSF2YxRv8AgAg1g Twitter: @sleuthmusic1 Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/sleuthmusician Instagram: @sleuthmusic11 BANDCAMP: https://sleuthartist.bandcamp.com

Artist: Jet Set Future

New Release: VICE

Genre: Alternative, Indie-Rock, Post-hardcore

Sounds like: : Best Coast, Pvris, No Doubt, Bloxx, Wavves, Foo Fighters, Paramore

Located in: Plymouth, Massachusetts United States of America

This song is a nice Blending of Beautiful vocal melodies with a lead bass, loud drums, and powerful catchy guitars. All of our influences are very unique, and bring many different elements to our songs, some of our influences, just to name a few are, No Doubt, Converge, Prince, Kiss, Killswitch Engage, Dokken, Hillary Duff, etc. This song, in particular, has a post-hardcore, chill feel. Nice two-step beat, followed by a hauntingly beautiful vocal pattern. It's about waiting for the right person to come along, and all of the struggles, and heartache that comes before it. It's an important song to us because it shows how diverse we can be, while keeping up the ever-changing landscape of music today. The impact this song can have on you is to show, that a song can be uppity, powerful, sad, and relieving all in one. Like telling a story with music and the perfect lyrics over it.

We do this because…

it's what we love to do. Most of us have been doing this for most of our lives. What we love about performing, is just being able to entertain the people in front of us. Whether it's 5 people or 500, we always give 100%. The thrill of just knowing that we're sharing our music/art with other people is truly a monumental accomplishment that we're extremely proud of.

Next…

As of now we're finishing up and putting our final tweaks onto our first Full-Length album. Next, we will be working on a music video for our next single.

LINKS: https://www.reverbnation.com/jetsetfuture/song/31128331-vice https://open.spotify.com/track/2kja9ILXtyiaXRbsojRIog?si=xFs7SXFdSrepvLc5N8qu4g http://www.twitter.com/jetsetfuture4 https://www.facebook.com/JetSetFuture https://www.instagram.com/JetSetFutureBand

Artist: David Bucci

New Release: Dangerous

Genre: Indie Alternative Rock

Sounds like: Bon Jovi, Chris Stapleton, Bryan Adams, Ritchie Kotzen, Goo Goo Dolls, Keith Urban

Located in: Channel Islands, Ca

When asked to describe his new release in a few words, David Bucci said, "Dirty boots, blue-collar, indie alternative rock music. Dangerous, off the new album, Country Club."

I have so many musical influences, but most were either guitarists or singers (Ritchie Kotzen, Eddie Van Halen, Jimi Hendrix, Bryan Adams, Eric Johnson, Billy Idol, The Goo Goo Dolls, Keith Urban).

'Dangerous' has a heavy acoustic guitar and drum-driven influence with electric guitar layers and soling over it along with my lead vocals and backup harmonies by Robert Cross.

Right now we are...

preparing for the album's release, planning a new music video. Tour, not yet, local clubs and bars at the moment, but who knows, arenas and stadiums may be right around the corner.

LINKS: Website http://www.david-bucci.com Spotify https://open.spotify.com/artist/0SFT53gEfnxneyzaEvgEGK Instagram http://ink361.com/app/users/ig-2227565243/davidbucci_official Facebook https://m.facebook.com/thedavidbucciofficial Twitter https://mobile.twitter.com/DgbBucci

Artist: Popichil`O

New Release: Bad Girl

Genre: Hiphop

Sounds like: : Drake, kanye west, chance the rapper, jay z. future, j cole, chris brown, lil uzi vert, cardi b, kendrick lamar, nicki minaj,tupac,

Located in: Chicago, Illinois

My music is uninhibited. This song is a fantasy that turns into reality. This music is a step outside of my norm. I am more of a concious type of artist so this single is refreshing to my followers. It has a night life feel to it. Smooth, sexy and grown.

I do this because music is apart of my life. I write to share different emotions and bring the truth into the light. It’s that light in my life that inspires me.

Right now… I am currently working on my second album and I’m really excited to share this new work. Performing live is on my agenda and continuing to build my brand and expand.

LINKS: https://open.spotify.com/album/4Qkfe42hWpLvmrbnjaNScQ https://twitter.com/popichi https://soundcloud.com/reallyfe-muzic https://www.facebook.com/popichilo Instagram: @popichilo

Artist: Collins & Streiss

New Release: Freedom's Captive

Genre: Rock, Commercial Rock, Indie Rock, Alternative Rock

Sounds like: not sure

Located in: Richmond Hill, Ontario, Canada

"Freedom's Captive" is about our growing addiction to our devices, whether it's cell phones, computers, tablets, social media and so on, and this obsession and need for acquiring followers and likes in today's web of virtual existence. It's a compounding obsession in a lot of cases where we have all this freedom and ability to exist and do what we want virtually now, but at the same time are becoming captives to it!

This song involves a few other players and has more of an overall band feel to it. We are using our regular drummer (Davide DiRenzo) and have brought back our bassist (David Dawe) from one of our earliest tracks "Saturday Night" that he played on, and have a new member in our working group (Rob Vendrasco) playing lead guitar.

The song is upbeat, edgy and energetic and full of catchy melodies and hooks which is common in our music. It's derivative of our rock roots which has a broad range of artists and rich heritage.

Why is music important to you?

Music and creation are an important outlet for us. We try to observe and put into words and music what we see and experience in our lives on a natural and human level whether it's about love and relationships, political, world issues or even imaginary. Each song takes on its own shape and evolves on its own, from lyrics to arrangement, and is creating a repertoire that is becoming more diverse as we move forward.

We do have a lyric video for this song but have no plans for a full visual video. We hope that people will listen to music and not be distracted by the visual. There are no plans to tour at the moment. There is new material in the works, also a small 2 song EP which contains 2 songs (previously unreleased) from projects that we did together before we became Collins & Streiss.

LINKS: Reverbnation: https://www.reverbnation.com/collinsandstreiss Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/album/2zOmvGgES8y4jvKtzVGOa3 Twitter: https://twitter.com/collins_streiss Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/Collins-and-Streiss Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/collins_and_streiss Apple Music: https://music.apple.com/us/album/freedoms-captive-single/1481194834?app=music&ign-mpt=uo%3D4 Deezer: https://www.deezer.com/us/album/111503652

Artist: Nicke Holgersson New Release: Crispy Colors Genre: Smooth Jazz

Sounds like: : Mezzoforte, The Rippingtons, Jazz Funk Soul, Brian Culbertson

Located in: : Stockholm, Sweden

This is a smooth jazz instrumental tune, featuring piano and synthesizer lead. It had a great groove with a full band and a horn section. It’s a tune making you feel good.

This is my second smooth jazz release and it defines pretty much the type of music that is close to my heart. This is just the beginning of my solo career and I am excited about the future.

I create music because I cannot imagine not to. I am brought up in a musical family and have been playing instruments all my life, and started composing in my early teens. Both my parents and my brothers are musicians. I get inspiration from all kinds of music, from classical to jazz, pop, and rock.

Next… At the moment I am excited about my recent release “Crispy Colors” that it is being aired around the world. I am also beginning to compose and record a full album to be released next year. LINKS: https://open.spotify.com/track/4lbt57fQealx5sPUftMJfW?si=tu2wWRGhSX2-wip1stJi_Q Web: www.nickeholgersson.com Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/niceproductionmusic Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/nicke_holgersson_music Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/artist/4cLrh1AVQQFo7wisfNSzqr?si=ZgP5hXKGQh6FJxTXkaAlbQ Apple Music: https://itunes.apple.com/se/artist/nicke-holgersson/1448370799 Tidal: https://tidal.com/browse/artist/10794618

Artist: Henky

New Release: Gimme Love Love Love

Genre: Dance; Pop

Sounds like: Avicii, Yello, Laserdance, Armin Van Buuren, DJ Bobo.... this is so hard to specify... some people say I have my own style and call my music Henkystyle... I am bits and pieces of a lot and nothing...

Located in: Stockholm, Sweden

Live your dream before it is too late like it almost was for me. Music is everything to me and I will never stop following my dreams!

My music is melodies and rhythms. This song is a happy melody I came up with when thinking of friends, summer and parties. The world needs more music with good melodies that get stuck in the head!

Something that feeling sustains even when the song reaches the end.

Music is my passion and my heart! Music is my language! Music will live forever! The feedback I get from fans and listeners is giving me the fuel and energy to keep on making new music.

LINKS: https://open.spotify.com/track/2TBOeH5Mpp5m94SlSKWJBx?si=sl3Ufr8lQu-X8l1h5DTung https://www.facebook.com/Henkysweden https://www.instagram.com/dj_henky

#pop music #Rock Music #Hip Hop music #singer songwriter #Patient X #Sleuth #Jet Set Future #David Bucci #Popichil`O #Double R3 #Collins & Streiss #Nicke Holgersson #Henky

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