#i’ve never used a packer…

[boycorruption]

a more experienced trans guy helping you pick out a packer and try it on <3 comparing sizes and eventually rubbing your bulges together as he unbuttons your shirt

[crabs-but-better]

i’m so spoiled by my school which has gender neutral bathrooms easily accessible from nearly every wing. had to use the women’s today for the first time in nearly two months and had a breakdown

[givelifetoaworld]

being able to explore femininity now that my body is Correct is thrilling. i have always wanted to be a very feminine man but i felt like through my transition i had to adapt some form of masculinity i didn’t even identify with in order to be taken seriously, particularly because of the size of my chest - it was impossible to bind completely flat leading to more than one occasion of being told i Wasn’t Trying Hard Enough. pre t i would always say “when i have a beard and top surgery i’m getting into fem clothes” and. now that my chest is flat feminine clothes don’t fill me with dread and i feel good wearing a skirt or leggings or a crop top or a bralette… pre t me would be so proud. unfortunately i can’t see myself wearing extra feminine clothes out and around because 1) i don’t want to be misgendered excessively for my choice in clothes and 2) i already get looks and it’s just not safe to be doing essentially my own personal drag? crossdressing? idk thing around strangers in bumfuck ohio. not to mention people confusing clothing for like, ���not being trans anymore”.

if i could just say i’m a femboy in normal conversation and have everyone have a completely normal reaction to it that would be awesome

[psychoticwillgraham]

HOLD UP SPENCERS HAS BINDERS AND PACKERS NOW???? rip to my wallet on Friday

[forcedtogrow]

FTM cock-shame, forcemasc edition

You’ve been going to the gym with your coach for a while now, he’s a bigger and more experienced lifter and has helped you push through every goal you thought was impossible to reach. After many, many weeks of watching your hunky coach glistening with sweat, you start to get curious about his tdick, if he’s big all over… He wears a packer most of the time to create a bulge in his gym shorts that makes it hard to tell, but one day he forgets to wear underwear and you catch him changing.

His soft is bigger than your hard, in every dimension. It’s honestly embarrassing that a guy like you is even considered in the same category as a guy like him—that’s what you think anyway. You’re getting hard watching his dick jiggle as he shifts his weight while changing, but it’s not like anyone will notice less than an inch in your boxer briefs. You look away in time so he doesn’t see you flush with humiliation for being so inferior, you didn’t even know bottom growth could look like that! I mean, you’re really small anyway, maybe half an inch? Most guys don’t get luckier than 1.5 inches even after years on T…but he is packing.

Your arm brushes his while you pull your shirt off and adjust your binder, he smiles at you. “Nice job today kid, I can tell you’ve been training hard between sessions”, he’s toweling off his upper body while he talks to you, flexing and contracting his arms, chest, his back—“you seem distracted”, he points out as you’re staring at his pecs, and coach flexes to emphasize he knows where your attention is at.

“I, uh, I’m ah…I mean I’ve never seen you change before”. You wish you hadn’t said it but when you start you can’t stop, “your bottom growth is fucking huge, coach. I didn’t think it could get that big”. He laughs and punches your arm harder than he means to, or maybe he wanted to hit you that hard. “It can, if you don’t mess around with that low dose shit, you could make way more progress if you doubled your dose and stop being scared of becoming a man”. Coach puts his hand on your shoulder and gives you a faint smile, like a good father softening criticism with love.

“You want to look like me right?”, he cups one of his pecs and runs his hand down his abdomen. “You want to get big and hairy,” he grabs your hand and rubs it against the coarse hair on his abdomen, “just like this right? And down here too”. You stop just shy of touching his dick. “What if someone sees us coach? I don’t wanna be the gym slut…”.

“You won’t be the gym slut, you’ll be my slut, but only if you up your dose and start growing for me”. Coach lifts you up and carries you to the back of the locker room, slamming you up against the wall. “Let’s play show and tell, kid. Show me yours and I’ll tell you how big you could get if you really wanted”. You pull down your boxer briefs to show the tiniest head of growth, like a mini dick-tip barely poking out of its foreskin.

“That’s it? Really?” He bends down to look closer, keeping his hands on your waist; you can feel the warmth of his breath on you. “It’s not like I can make it grow faster! It-it’s just growing slower cus I’m on the gel…it’s not fair to compare us anyway, coach. You have the biggest I’ve ever seen”, you can almost feel his lips touching you and suddenly your legs feel like giving out. “No more gel. No more low-dose T.”, coach rubs his bottom lip over your dick, making it twitch in a way you’ve never felt before. “If you promise to do your shots and turn into a big, hairy muscle man for me I’ll suck you off, and you can think about how much better it’ll feel to get a blowjob when you have a big fat cock like mine”, you start squirming your hips trying to force yourself into his mouth, but he easily forces you down with his strong hands.

“I’ll double my dose coach, I’ll do it tonight! I’ll let you put the shot in my ass yourself”. As you say it he starts to close his lips around you and gently circle your tip with his tongue, but stops abruptly. “Don’t get so excited kid, I’m gonna need a little more effort from you if you really want to show me how much you want to be a man”. Coach presses you harder into the wall, “see how easy it is for me to pin you? Don’t you wish you were strong like me?”. You start to moan and pitifully try to push him off of you, accidentally rubbing your dick against his thigh. “Seems like all you want right now is my mouth. Isn’t that right, slut?”. You let your mouth hang open and start rocking your body against your coaches hard, hairy thighs.

“I want to be just like you coach…”, you say moving close enough to kiss him, but he puts his hand over your mouth. “How about this”, coach moves down to your hips again, “I’m gonna suck your baby dick while you tell me how badly you want to be a big man for me”.

Coach starts lightly wrapping his lips around you, not sucking yet, just looking up at you like a muscle whore. “I want to be just like you coach, I want to eat and lift until my muscles feel like they’re going to explode”, coach starts sucking you off and doing this flick with his tongue…even his tongue is so strong… “I want to be be bigger than you, even if I have to quit my job and lift 24/7 and be an empty-headed muscle slut, only thinking about injecting myself with T and eating and lifting until the only clothes I can wear are XXL tank tops, I-“ you gasp as coach grabs your ass to push your cock harder into his mouth, sucking and slipping his tongue over your hole as the same time. “I-I…want to feel my dick getting bigger, I want to fill up your mouth with thick it is, I want to look like a real man next to you”. Coach keeps sucking and starts finger banging you like he’s possessed, you could not have imagined how sexy he would look with his shoulders flexed, veins bulging on his arms while he takes you into his mouth…red faced, sweating, gasping and moaning on your little clit-dick…

You cum so hard in his mouth you feel on the edge of blacking out.

“Now bend over and I’ll get the needle”.

[robertreich]

The Silent Revolution in American Economics

I don't think you're expecting what I'm about to say, because I have never seen anything like this in fifty years in politics.

For decades I've been sounding an alarm about how our economy has become increasingly rigged for the rich. I've watched it get worse under both Republicans and Democrats, but what President Biden has done in his first term gives me hope I haven't felt in years. It’s a complete sea change.

Here are three key areas where Biden is fundamentally reshaping our economy to make it better for working people.

#1 Trade and industrial policy

Biden is breaking with decades of reliance on free-trade deals and free-market philosophies. He’s instead focusing on domestic policies designed to revive American manufacturing and fortify our own supply chains.

Take three of his signature pieces of legislation so far — the Inflation Reduction Act, the CHIPS Act, and his infrastructure package. This flood of government investment has brought about a new wave in American manufacturing.

Unlike Trump, who just levied tariffs on Chinese imports and used it as a campaign slogan, Biden is actually investing in America’s manufacturing capacity so we don’t have to rely on China in the first place.

He’s turning the tide against deals made by previous administrations, both Democratic and Republican, that helped Wall Street but ended up costing American jobs and lowering American wages.

#2 Monopoly power

Biden is the first president in living memory to take on big monopolies.

Giant firms have come to dominate almost every industry. Four beef packers now control over 80 percent of the market, domestic air travel is dominated by four airlines, and most Americans have no real choice of internet providers.

In a monopolized economy, corporate profits rise, consumers pay higher prices, and workers’ wages shrink.

But under the Biden, the Federal Trade Commission and the Antitrust Division of the Justice Department have become the most aggressive monopoly fighters in more than a half century. They’re going after Amazon and Google, Ticketmaster and Live Nation, JetBlue and Spirit, and a wide range of other giant corporations.  

#3 Labor

Biden is also the most pro-union president I’ve ever seen.

A big reason for the surge in workers organizing and striking for higher wages is the pro-labor course Biden is charting.

The Reagan years blew in a typhoon of union busting across America. Corporations routinely sunk unions and fired workers who attempted to form them. They offshored production or moved to so-called “right-to-work” states that enacted laws making it hard to form unions.

Even though Democratic presidents promised labor law reforms that would strengthen unions, they didn’t follow through. But under Joe Biden, organized labor has received a vital lifeboat. Unionizing has been protected and encouraged. Biden is even the first sitting president to walk a picket line.

Biden’s National Labor Relations Board is stemming the tide of unfair labor practices, requiring companies to bargain with their employees, speeding the period between union petitions and elections, and making it harder to fire workers for organizing.

Americans have every reason to be outraged at how decades of policies that prioritized corporations over people have thrown our economy off-keel.

But these three waves of change — a worker-centered trade and industrial policy, strong anti-monopoly enforcement, and moves to strengthen labor unions — are navigating towards a more equitable economy.

It’s a sea change that’s long overdue.

[jae-sch-writes]

Fruity Confessions

Characters: Sam Winchester x Reader, Dean Winchester

Word Count: 1,584

Genre: fluffy goodness

Summary: After a hunt, the Reader gets very drunk. What will Sam do?

Warnings: alcohol consumption (like, a lot of it), mention of murder (nothing out of SPN norm), mention of smut (in a book), hinted at smutty thoughts

A/N: What's up Tumblr? It's been a while. Writing is gonna be all over the place because I have a kid now! (crazy, right?) But as a SAHM, I have a lot of free time to write, so here's to (hopefully), getting back into it. Edited by Grammarly, but any and all mistakes are no one's fault but me, myself, and I.

Want to read more? SPN Masterlist Full Masterlist

You were a fruity drink kinda girl. While the boys had their variety of beers, you preferred Smirnoff Ices or a seltzer of some kind. When the situation called for something a little harder, like at the end of every hunt, the Winchesters drank whiskey, and you enjoyed a bottle of wine. 

With each state you’ve gone to, you made sure to find a winery from that state, and if they had a fruity-flavored bottle, you were definitely getting at least one. This time- Wisconsin.

A hunt had brought you to Green Bay: at Lambeau Field to be specific. Home field Packers’ games were canceled after eight different fans of the Detroit Lions were found dead after their game. It didn’t take long to find out it was a ghost, however, finding out who the ghost was was a different story. After lots of research, Sam had determined it was Bart Starr, the Packers’ quarterback during their first Super Bowl win.

“The dude’s buried in Alabama, so how the hell did he make it here beyond the grave?” Dean asked.

“One of Starr’s jerseys is at the Field. That’s definitely what he’s being tethered to, but it’s gonna be difficult getting it out of its case. Lambeau has all of their memorabilia in cases with alarms,” you said, not looking up from your book. After some moments of silence, you looked up to see Sam and Dean looking at you like you had three heads. “What? I know things.”

“Yeah, but about football?” Dean was shocked. “Not even the game itself, but the fact you just happened to know one of these random player’s jerseys was in their museum? It’s weird.”

“Dean, leave her be, she literally just told us what we’ve gotta burn.” Sam was impressed. While he had never been interested in sports, he was pleasantly surprised by your knowledge, however niche of a topic it may be. “But, I gotta know,” Sam turned to you, “how did you know that?”

“I’ve been to a game or two at Lambeau Field. My dad was a Packers fan.”

You happened to be the one to go to the jersey to burn it while the boys were your backup. The faded green jersey with the number 15 on it was lit up in its display case. You all knew it had to be in and out. Break the case, burn the jersey, and get the hell out.

The sound of shattering glass came with the sound of an alarm, alerting the guard at the entrance to the museum portion of the stadium. Bart Starr was throwing around Sam and Dean like they were footballs.

You had just barely been able to get a match onto the jersey before security was able to see you. Luckily, the small flame was enough to distract him and made him run in the opposite direction to get a fire extinguisher.

The next morning, as Sam and Dean were packing up, you drove to a state business called Festival Foods. There, you found their selection of state-made wines. You opted for a couple of labels all made of cranberries. If you were grabbing wines made in Wisconsin, you might as well grab ones made with one of the state’s bigger industries.

You spent the twelve hours from Green Bay back to Lebanon in almost complete silence. You and Sam reading your books, and Dean humming along to whatever song was playing on the radio.

The minute you got home, you grabbed the cooler and went to the kitchen. Your only thoughts were on the wine you had got and how you needed to try it.

“Y/N, you didn’t even grab your-” Sam’s sentence was interrupted by seeing you grabbing a wine glass from the cupboard. “I’ll go put your bag in your room.” Sam knew better than to get between you and your wine. The last time he tried that, he ended up on the floor from trying to cut you off for the night. Your love for wine and need for a drink after a hunt had given you the drunken power to somehow take him down, despite the size difference between you and him. 

Sam retreated from the kitchen to his bedroom. You took your bottle, glass, and book to the library and settled yourself into the loveseat you had picked for nights like these. 

About 3/4ths of the bottle in, you had abandoned the thought of a wine glass and just started drinking straight from the bottle. Your mind was wandering from the fantasy-romance you were reading and to thoughts of Sam. When you reached a smutty part of the story, you couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to be with Sam in that way.

You were now a bottle down, and made your way back to the kitchen to open up another one. It really didn't take long for you to finish the second bottle. You were stumbling to the kitchen, with the intent to grab your third bottle, when you were stopped by the table in the library, not at it, by it. You had walked right into it, almost like you forgot the large oak table was there. 

Getting to the kitchen truly was difficult for you, your drunken version of a marathon. Sam heard all of the commotion going on and took a guess on where you were heading. Usually he would leave you be, but being able to hear you walk into things, he decided to risk you being mad at him. 

He stood in the doorway, blocking the entrance to the kitchen, and let you walk right into him. It took him everything to keep him from laughing at your face when you were met with the wall of muscle. 

“Sammy, whaddya doin’ here?” Your words were slurred, but not incoherent.

“Preventing alcohol poisoning,” Sam grabbed your hand and guided you down the hall. “Come on, let's get you to bed.”

“Can I sleep in yours?” Your drunken state left you with no filter. The words just came out of your mouth. 

“Ya know, given you walked right into me like I was invisible, that might actually be a good idea.”

Sam’s response invoked a giggle from you, and he couldn't help but smile. Even though you were stumbling down the halls of the Bunker, bumping into Sam every couple of steps, he thought you were adorable. You were usually pretty reserved and in control, but like this, you’re care-free, not calculating your every move. 

It took almost twice as long to get to Sam’s room as usual with how many times you bumped into him or tripped over your own feet resulting in him having to catch you. Sam told himself after the fourth time if you fell one more time, he was just going to pick you up and carry you the rest of the way. Much to his dismay, that did not happen. He would have loved to know your reaction in the morning if you remembered him doing that. 

When you finally reached Sam’s room, the first thing you did was flop on the bed, or attempt to anyway. Thankfully, you fell just short of landing all the way on so your head never hit the floor. Sam chuckled and helped you up. Before laying back down, you took off your shirt, leaving you in just your bra and sweatpants. 

This wasn't the first time Sam had seen you without a shirt, or the first time the two of you shared a bed, but this time was different. This time you were drunk and didn't really know what you were doing. In your drunken state, you were just getting ready for bed, for Sam, he couldn't help but think that you thought of him as someone safe. Why else would you have asked if you could stay with him tonight?

Sam got you comfy on the bed, all the while you were giggling up a storm. Sam looked at you and smiled. “What? What's so funny, Y/N/N?”

“Nothin’. I just think you're cute. And tall,” you looked at Sam with big eyes and a goofy grin. “Oh my gosh you're so tall.” 

“Yeah, okay,” Sam chuckled. “Let's just get you to sleep, alright?”

You nodded as he helped you make sure you didn't smack your head against his bed frame. Sam grabbed the small trash can sitting at his desk and brought it to your side of the bed. You usually held your liquor really well, but given your state, he didn't want to take any chances. 

“Sammy?” you say quietly.

“Yeah?”

“I love you,” your voice got serious. Sam knew you'd be falling asleep soon, you always stopped being goofy towards the end of the night. 

“I mean it. I really do,” Sam knew you weren't just saying that because you were drunk. If you were talking, your filter may be going, but you mean every word that comes out of your mouth. 

“I know you do,” Sam smiled softly before crawling into his bed behind you and pulling his blanket over the two of you. He let his arm fall over your side and rubbed his thumb in small circles over your stomach. He hated not knowing if you were going to remember this in the morning. 

He waited to hear your breathing become slow and steady before whispering, “I love you, too, Y/N/N.”

Tag List

@train-wrecc

add yourself HERE

[qveerthe0ry]

Lions Ain't the Kind - Part 3.5

Summary: Frankie asks you about transitioning Pairing: Frankie Morales x NB/Gender-fluid! AFAB! Reader Rating: 18+ Explicit Warnings: 18+ mdni, talks about gender non-conformity, talks about gender dysphoria, mentions of transitioning, mentions of HRT and gender affirming surgery, chest binding, use of packers A/N: I said I wasn't going to post anymore of this series until July but I was WRONG! I wote this for @romanarose 's Pride Event. Week 2: Transitioning. I realized that writing this little snippet would actually add a lot of depth to reader and explain more about what their gender identity means to them (while also reiterating that Frankie is a perfect little sweetie pie)

“Do you ever want to get surgeries? You know, like, gender affirming ones?”

You pause Netflix to turn to Frankie, shirtless and looking at you with genuine curiosity. 

“Why do you ask?” 

His brows draw up.

“Just wondering. This is all kinda new to me, I guess, and I’ve done some research… I just know it’s an option and— yeah, I mean— I really am just curious.”

The backs of his knuckles trace your arm, and goosebumps form there. 

“That’s a bit of a loaded question, honestly. Do you want the short answer or the long answer?”

He smiles, soft, and you swear he’s an angel with that halo of curls framing his head. 

“I wanna know whatever you wanna tell me.”

You smile too, tangle your legs with his under the sheets and get relaxed for the conversation you’ve never been so comfortable having before now. 

“So… basically, I think the pros and cons completely stalemate each other. You know? There are things about hormones and surgery that I’d enjoy. But… because I’m so fluid, I’d also sometimes not enjoy them. Does that make sense?” 

Frankie nods, “I think so, yeah.”

“And that’s the thing— Right now, there are things about my natural body that sometimes I like, and then sometimes those same things make me uncomfortable.”

“Dysphoria?” He asks, a timid and sad tone weighing down the word. 

“Yeah— exactly. Look at you, Mister Research.” 

A bashful dimple appears as he ducks his head. 

“So, there’s things I have that help. They’re temporary… but… so is the dysphoria. I think, for me, the best decision is to lean into those temporary aides. I mean for one, it’s cheaper. And much less invasive. Why go through all of that just to be in the same boat, y’know?”

“Yeah, I get that. I’m sorry you have to compromise, though. Sounds… Not easy.”

You shrug, but you’re smiling, because it’s quite thrilling to have someone so understanding in your corner, and your bed, and your life. 

“Thank you. You’re right, y’know, it isn’t easy. Especially when it comes to dating. So it’s really nice that you’re… Well— that you’re you.”

A surprised breath leaves him as his eyes light up. 

“It’s nice that you’re you, too. I like you, everything about you.”

It’s silent for a moment as you stare at each other, smiling, sunny, giddy almost. 

“What— umm… What are those things that help? You don’t have to tell me, but… If you want to, I’d like to know.”

You nod. 

“Yeah okay.”

You take a deep breath and debate on what would be easiest to start with. 

“You know how you asked me what those marks were on my back yesterday? In the shower?”

“Yeah, you said it was just indents from your blanket. Were they not?”

You shake your head. 

“I use this stuff called transtape. It’s used to bind your chest, you know? So it looks flat? Sometimes it leaves little marks— like a bandaid would.”

“So it’s like a binder? But… tape, instead of a garment?”

“Exactly. I was wearing it that day you… it’s why I haven’t really let you touch, yet. It’s kind of unsexy to explain in the moment.”

“Why didn’t you wear it in the shower? Should I not have looked?”

Worry creases his brow, but you huff a laugh and grab his hand. 

“No, it’s okay. I wanted to shower with you, and I needed to replace it anyway. It— I mean, like I’ve said, sometimes it bothers me and sometimes it doesn’t. I felt like we were in a rush, and it wasn’t… sexual. And I felt comfortable with you like that. I knew you wouldn’t gawk or… comment, or anything. I liked being able to just be myself with you, and having you still see me as me.”

“Oh, okay. I mean… I liked what I saw. Is that… okay to say?”

You roll your eyes and laugh.

“Yes, you’re allowed to like my tits, Pretty Boy.” 

He flushes, but his eyes glance down to your chest in a brief flicker. 

“You’re wearing the tape, now?”

“I am. Do you wanna see?” 

“I— I mean, yeah. If you wanna show me.”

So you do. You slowly slide your shirt off, and you bare yourself. You feel confident, which is new, in a situation like this. 

He stares, like he’s studying you. His eyes take catalog of the different pieces, the way they’re shaped, the way they hold everything up and back and flatten. 

His fingers twitch under yours, and you squeeze them before letting go. 

“You can touch,” you whisper. 

He does. In an instant, his fingers gently trace the edge of the tape, then his palm covers it all, right over your heart that’s pounding. 

“You’re so… fuck, I’m sorry, I don’t wanna be weird. You’re just really hot.”

You do preen a bit, even if you don’t want to admit it. He makes you feel so good about who you are. 

“That’s not weird. I think you’re hot too, so it’s good we’re on the same page.”

He hums, traces his middle finger down the center of your chest, so light it tickles. 

“What else?” 

“Huh?”

“There’s more, right? More… aides?”

You nod slowly. 

“You know what a packer is?” 

He nods slowly. 

“I’ve read about them. I haven’t seen one.”

“I haven’t worn one around you. It could be confusing at first, right?”

You feel sweat start to prickle at the back of your neck. 

“It could be, yeah. I get that. You can, now. You always could have, you know?” 

“Yeah, I know, now.”

He clears his throat, and gives you a signature Frankie grin, and the room starts to feel a little less stifling. 

“If you want to show me, I’d like to see. I wanna know everything about you, when you’re ready for me to.” 

You debate for a minute, how to show him, which one to show him, before you get out of bed and duck down to grab the box that’s under your bed frame. 

“I have a few, they’re all different,” you start to explain. 

You set the box next to him, then crawl into bed too, and unhook the latches on the lid. 

He sits patiently as you open it, and you’re afraid to look at him when they’re revealed. 

“That’s a lot of penises. Peni?”

You choke on an awkward, startled laugh and shake your head. 

“I know, I know.”

“No, it’s cool. I wish I could have a different dick for each occasion.”

And he’s laughing with you, not at you, and you finally brave a look at his face. 

His eyes run curious circles around the inside of the box, but when he notices you watching him, his gaze falls on you again. 

“Tell me about them.” 

So you do. 

You explain that the smaller one is easiest to wear in public without feeling awkward, but still feeling euphoric. The mid-sized one is usually for the odd occasion where you go out to clubs or bars or other queer spaces. The biggest one, you tell him, is for when you’re just at home, and you want to be able to look in the mirror and see you, on those days where you need to be as masculine as possible. 

“What about this one? It’s smaller too.” 

“It’s uhh… well, it’s a 3-in-1.”

“What does that mean?”

You pull it out of the box to show him the back of it. 

“So this is like— so I can pee standing up. And then this” you say, grabbing the rod that’s lying in the box, “is to make it hard. So I can penetrate, or ‘jerk off’ with it. I don’t wear it out much, except for maybe when I’m gonna be out all day and I don’t know the bathroom situation.” 

You look up to find his eyes and mouth both wide. 

“That’s sick,” he says, then swiftly adds— “in a good way. I didn’t know that was a thing.” 

You hum and nod. 

“Do you… wish you were wearing one? Right now?” 

And it’s kinda weird, the way he asks so innocently, but you really do. Especially with the way you’re shirtless and taped up right in front of him. 

“Kinda, yeah.” 

“Can I see it? You can say no. But— how does it work? Like, is it secure?” 

You place your 3-in-1 back in the box, and grab your medium sized one. 

“Let me show you.” 

You’re already wearing your favorite briefs to pack with. You have a lot of pairs and they’re comfy with or without. So you shed your sweatpants and get up on your knees to show him.

“There’s a secret pocket in here,” you tell him, “these aren’t good for the 3-in-1, since the pocket is between the packer and my skin. But I have different underwear for those.” 

He nods, and watches you pull the waistband down to show him the pocket. 

“You could keep snacks in there, too.” 

You laugh at the silly look in his eyes. 

“Not sure they’d be that good, all pressed up against my crotch.”

“I’d eat ‘em,” he says, and wiggles his eyebrows for good measure. 

“Noted,” you joke, “so— yeah, I just, put it in here.”

And you do, sliding the packer into place and fiddling the waistband back.

“I mean, usually I look in the mirror to make sure it looks right, adjust it so it doesn’t pinch anything when I walk.” 

He nods as he stares at your crotch, and his hand reaches out to wrap around your thigh. 

“And it feels good? To have that there?” 

“Yeah, when I’m dysphoric. Just having that weight there, it feels real and right.” 

He smiles at this, so wide, so sweet. 

“Wear it around me. When you want to. I want you to feel that way, always. Okay?”

Your throat feels a little thick, and your eyes sting a bit, but you still smile. 

“Okay,” you whisper. 

“C’mere,” he whispers back. 

You close your box and place it on the floor, as quick as you can. He pulls you to him tight, and it feels incredible, to have all of your bare skin against his own, finally, nothing but your tape in between you. 

He kisses you without a bit of urgency, just lax and syrupy. His hand is firm against your spine, pressing you to him, and you feel dizzy when he pulls away. 

“Thank you for showing me everything,” he says.

“Thanks for… just… being cool.” 

He chuckles, then coaxes you on your back, so his head can take its coveted position back, over your chest. Your naked, flat chest. You hold the remote toward the TV, intent on unpausing your show, but he stops you. 

“Can I hold it?”

“The remote?”

“No— your dick. Just to keep it warm? No funny business.” And he’s looking up at you with those damn eyes again, and how could you say no to that?

last part/next part

[possibilistfanfiction]

I love Beatrice feels about Avas gender identity (or lack of). And how, for Beatrice, her womanhood is still an important part of her, even if she expresses that part differently than other women. And how Bea is just down for the ride when Ava experiments with their gender expression, just endless support and love and just letting Ava try out whatever they want. Like the scene with the binder, Ava wasnt visibly uncomfortable or weirded out, she just said that it wasnt something for her, and Bea never discouraged her of trying it out by telling her that she wouldnt like it, or other masculine things that fit better, like the suit. So yeah, thanks for having someone like Ava who doenst give a fuck about how she "should" dress and act as told by society and then Beatrice, for whom womanhood is still an important part of, but she puts her personal own spin on it, so she still feels like herself and happy. So, yeah you said you already have two butch!Bea prompts, so I just wanted to request a Avatrice fic with some happy gender expressions/feels it doesnt have to be butch!Bea AU, if you want. But yeah, I love how you write Beas butch style but still in touch with her womanhood. (And of course her kicking ass in Aikaido class ;) )

‘wow,’ you say, a little breathless. ava grins, spins around in their tuxedo slacks and button down with the sleeves rolled up to their elbows, an old binder of yours that’s loose on them but still offers some compression underneath, paired with patent leather loafers and a tie loose around their neck. they’ve slicked their hair back neatly and are grinning, arms outstretched. ‘you look amazing.’

‘yeah?’

‘of course,’ you say, as if there was any other possibility. ava wraps her arm around your waist and looks in the mirror at the both of you together: it’s a little different, because you’re used to ava in the dresses and crop tops and flowy pants he loves, an old favorite pair of overalls — but it’s, like, really, really hot. you’ve learned through your friends and therapy and ava’s own deep exuberance around queerness that you really are in love in so many of its forms, the textures it takes and allows; while you feel much, much better and safer and more comfortable and at ease in yourself when you’re in loose, easy pants, your chest flat, your hair short, you have never begrudged ava their expansion. they’ve seen so, so much, lived through more pain than anyone should ever have to, so everything about them, even at their most annoying, is beautiful to you.

‘if i wore a packer into a cathedral, do you think i would be struck down or something?’

it takes a second too long for your brain to get unstuck from the heat that races down your spine; ava smirks. ‘are you —‘ unfortunately your voice comes out a little strangled and you have to regroup — ‘are you wearing one?’

‘nah,’ ava says. ‘thought about it, but these pants are kinda tight and if i have to sit through some dumbass pomp and circumstance at the vatican i’m at least going to be comfortable.’

you hum, the best you can do.

‘maybe i’ll wear it tomorrow with that new skirt i got in madrid though,’ she says, far too casual for the victorious expression on her face. 

‘well, you do know god best.’

‘that’s so true,’ ava says, preening again and then turning toward you. ‘gender expression, totally cool with god, if you can believe that.’

‘i suppose i can.’ ava’s smirk softens into an easy smile, one you revel in every time it’s for you, the way sunflowers turn toward the sun. 

‘plus, this little vest situation you have going on is, like, so hot. god can’t begrudge me your arms, not after all i’ve done.’

you huff at their obvious delight in flustering you, but it’s summer and very hot and, really, the light sweater vest you’d picked out to go with your very church-appropriate slacks is also quite tame. 

‘i love you,’ they say, softening again, and kiss your cheek. ‘now, let’s go scandalize some conservatives, shall we?’

you laugh, unable to resist ava’s warmth, again and again. ‘we shall.’

[oliverreedmasterass]

Words: 8k

Synopsis: Based on a hilarious personal anecdote from the incredible @writingcold about seeing something bizarre at a hotel in Green Bay, the GVF guys find themselves caught in a heap of trouble. The problem is, they can't quite work out what they did.

Warnings: language, drinking, drug use, mentions of theft, drowning, and running into traffic

__________________________________________

“Do you know why you’re here, son?” a graying man dressed in a loose-fitting two-piece suit with a strewn purple tie leaned close to the young man who sat across from him at the aged wooden table. 

“No clue,” Jake avoided eye contact while wringing his hands together out of sight of the older man. He snuck a quick glance at the man’s golden nametag pinned to his chest. Doug. “I was just minding my business in my room and then somebody dragged me down here. Am I in trouble?” 

“Depends on how much you’re willing to share with me today,” Doug stared back at Jake with his piercing blue eyes. “I’m gonna need you to tell me what you were up to last night.” 

Jake’s face pinched as he tried to think back. He made a humming noise to stall, and wiped at his mouth - a nervous tick he had never been able to shake. 

“My band and I were out getting drinks,” Jake remembered. “At Ned Kelly’s Pub. Someone recommended the place to us since they’re known for their sour beers. It’s something I’ve been getting into a lot more recently.” 

It was a perfectly normal evening. Like, genuinely, nothing crazy was going down. Jake, Josh, Sam, and Danny all squeezed around a tall pub table, leaning over their pints to sip out of the top of the overfilled glasses. Jake wiped his mouth with the back of his hand to clear the foam from his upper lip and craned his neck to look over Josh’s head at the live band. They were playing a Creedence Clearwater Revival song, and it sounded good enough that Jake started to tap his foot to the beat.

“I can’t believe we’re in Green Bay,” Josh called over the music to his friends. Jake took another slurp from his glass and then nodded his head in agreement. 

“We had the opportunity to go anywhere in the world, and we settled on Wisconsin.” 

“I don’t regret it,” Sam shrugged. “It’s not too far from home and, hey, I’ve always wanted to get my hands on one of those Packers cheese hats.” 

Jake gazed at the ridiculous cheese hat that was perched atop Sam’s head and grimaced at how stupid his younger brother looked. 

“I’m becoming one with the cheese,” Sam proudly stated.  

Jake flicked at Sam’s hat, knocking it just slightly off of his forehead. 

“Are you really gonna keep that thing on all night, Sammy?” he asked. He had noticed Sam was earning some strange looks from the other patrons in the bar which gave him serious second-hand embarrassment. Sam let out a loud laugh at Jake’s question and forced the hat back down on his head so it was set in place. 

“I know you hate it, Jake. So, yeah.” 

Jake faked a scowl, but couldn’t help chuckling into his beer. He took a deep sip and let the taste of the sour beer wash over him. Their Lyft driver had totally been right when she recommended this place. It was by far the best sour beer he had ever had, which was seriously saying something.

Jake took in the bar around him while he worked on his drink. It was classy and pretty packed, which felt just right. He knew he had stepped foot in hundreds of bars like Ned Kelly’s Pub before, but that just made it feel more like home. 

When he finished his drink, Jake stepped away from the table and grabbed his glass, motioning back towards the bar that was only getting more crowded. “I’m gonna get a refill. Anyone need anything?” 

“Ask if they have peanuts!” Sam shouted with enthusiasm. He enjoyed throwing the peanut shells at Josh and getting them stuck in his curly floof. 

“Don’t do that,” Josh firmly told Jake. “It took me two weeks to get them all out of my hair last time. Two weeks!” 

Jake looked beyond Josh to Danny, who was mouthing at him to go and get the peanuts. Jake shook his head at his friends and made his way to the bar, where the bartender was finishing up another order for a group of women around his age. 

“Just a second,” the bartender held up his finger to Jake, who nodded his head with a smile. While he waited, he bobbed his head along to the live band’s Allman Brothers cover. 

“Hey,” a voice said next to Jake. “You look familiar.” 

Jake was curious where the conversation would go, so he turned to his left and looked at one of the women who was waiting for her drink. “Do I?” he asked with a cheeky grin. While he usually didn’t like the attention, he sometimes got a kick out of people trying to place his face. The amount of times people had mistaken him for Julien Baker was extraordinary. 

“Did we go to high school together?” the woman guessed. Jake had heard that one plenty of times. 

“Not unless you grew up in Frankenmuth, Michigan,” Jake replied. 

“Really? You don’t sound like you’re from Michigan,” the woman observed. This comment threw Jake off. 

“Where would you guess I was from?” 

“You’ve got, like, an echo of a British accent. It’s really interesting.” 

“What can I get for you?” The bartender’s attention was finally on Jake. 

“Fill ‘er up,” Jake motioned down to his glass. 

With his glass filled to the brim once more, Jake made a detour over to where the band was playing so he could watch the guitar player. The guy obviously had a lot of experience under his belt, because he was hitting every note in perfect precision. Jake liked to think that he was a pretty talented guitar player, but this guy wasn’t making a single error, and it was blowing his mind. 

Once they finished their song, Jake gave them an extra loud whoop in front of the stage. “Bravo!” he added. 

“Hey, thanks,” the lead singer grinned at Jake. “Got any requests?” 

“Play Cream and I’m never leaving this joint,” Jake beamed wide. 

“You better get yourself comfortable then,” the guitarist chuckled before launching into SWLABR. Jake let out a whoop in glee, gave the band a thumbs up, and made his way back to his friends’ table. 

“Hey there, social butterfly,” Josh poked fun at Jake. 

“I like the vibe of this place,” Jake shrugged. “The band said they would play Cream for me.” 

“So what you’re saying is it’s gonna be impossible to get you out of here, right?” Danny stared at Jake. 

Jake swigged down more beer, and then nodded in Danny’s direction. “You’re gonna have to drag me out of here kicking and screaming.” 

Danny shook his head at Jake with a smile between his pursed lips and Jake stuck his tongue back out at him. He jumped in surprise when he saw the woman from earlier at the side of their table. 

“I figured out where I know you from,” she announced, looking proud. Jake arched an eyebrow. “You’re from that rock band!” 

“Bingo,” Jake pointed at her. As fun as it was to get misrecognized, there was something gratifying in knowing that they were big enough to get spotted out in public. 

“My sister is a huge fan,” the woman continued. “She saw you guys during your last tour and said that your show was literally life changing. She’d die if she knew I was talking to you right now. But, uh, I’m sure you’re used to hearing this, so I’ll keep it brief. I just wanted to bring this over to thank you for making my sister so happy.” 

Jake stared at the tall pint that the woman was handing out to him in awe. 

“It’s a Copper State Sun Soaked - I overheard you ordering it at the bar,” the woman continued as she slipped the glass into Jake’s hands. 

“Thank you,” Jake told her, and he really meant it. The woman waved goodbye to him and made her way across the bar back to her friend group. Jake looked down at the pint in his hands, and set it next to his other glass. 

“Water for the rest of the night after this, I promise,” Jake looked around at everyone. “Mark my word.” 

“And that’s what I did,” Jake told the older man. “We hung around the bar for about another hour, and then we made our way back to the hotel. I went to my room and crashed almost immediately. Then, when I woke up, I was brought down here.” 

“Interesting,” Doug studied Jake. The kid looked like he was being sincere, which threw Doug and his hypothesis in for a loop. He searched Jake’s face for any signs of deceit. “I sent you down here to talk to me because there was vandalism reported in the lobby last night.” 

“Really?” Jake’s eyebrows raised. “What happened?”

“Let’s just say that someone tampered with something that’s really important to me and my hotel.”  

Jake had no trouble looking Doug in the eyes this time around. “I can promise you, sir, I had nothing to do with it.”

Doug gazed at Jake a few beats longer, and then nodded his head. “You’re free to go.”

“Oh thank god,” Jake heaved out and then rose from his seat. 

“But I want you to send in someone else from your party,” Doug continued. Jake frowned at that. 

“We have to hit the road soon.” 

“Don’t worry, it won’t take long.” 

Jake gave a grunt, and left the room in silence. A few minutes later, his twin, Josh, entered into the hotel manager’s office, looking around at the IKEA-inspired decor. 

“Love what you’ve done with the place,” Josh greeted Doug. “Fake plants are really in right now.” 

“Take a seat,” Doug motioned towards the wooden chair that his brother had just been nervously sitting in. Josh slowly lowered himself into the seat and then folded his hands politely in his lap. 

“Is this about the bathrobe I took from the bathroom? Because I thought it was complimentary. If it’s not, I’ll put it back.” 

“Don’t worry about that,” Doug shook his head. “It’ll just get charged to your card.” 

“Aw man,” Josh pouted. 

“I’m trying to fit the pieces of a mystery together, and I need your help. Can you tell me what you did last night?” 

Josh gave Doug a look that showed he was surprised by the question, but shrugged. “My pals and I went to this pub right by the river for their tap selection. We wanted to have a celebratory night out before we headed back home to Michigan.” 

The night was already exhausting. Jake, Josh, Sam, and Danny all squeezed around a tall pub table, leaning over their pints to sip out of the top of the overfilled glasses. Josh winced at the taste of the sour beer and nudged the drink away from him. The rest of his friends were still hard at work, slurping down the beer with content. Josh folded his hands in front of him and thought about their weekend away from home. Their trip to Green Bay had started on a whim, inspired by a side comment from Sam about how they had never really spent any quality time in Wisconsin. Paired with Danny’s recent That 70s Show obsession, it only seemed right that they would squeeze into the Jeep Truck and hit the road west. 

In their 72 hours they had enjoyed some hikes, visited a cool botanical garden, and, of course, hit up as many bars as they could. Josh wasn’t sure what he thought about Ned Kelly’s Pub. Although the massive chandelier made out of glass bottles was pretty impressive, Josh didn’t feel like it outshined the other places they had visited. However, looking around at his friends’ faces, he could tell that they were all enchanted by the bar. They were gonna be there for a while. 

After trading some jokes about Sam’s goofy cheese hat that he had picked up at the National Railroad Museum gift shop earlier in the day, Josh noticed that Jake’s big glass was already empty. The guy must have enjoyed that sour beer a whole lot more than he had. 

“Pace yourself, tiger,” Josh found himself telling Jake without thinking. Jake had promised that he would drive a leg of their trip back to Michigan the following day, and there was no way he was getting out of it by pulling the hungover card. He had used that one way too many times. 

Josh noted that Jake genuinely looked surprised by his alcohol intake, but his shock seemed to last a millisecond since he bounced over to the bar for a refill without hesitation. 

“Do you like this shit?” Josh asked Sam and Danny, pointing an unenthusiastic finger down at his sour beer. He was relieved to see Sam and Danny both shrugging. 

“It’s okay, I guess,” Danny sounded indifferent. 

“I don’t get what the hype is,” Sam chimed in. “This tastes like soap.” Sam then proceeded to take another long chug. 

“Jake seems to like it though,” Danny commented. They all turned to watch the guitarist saunter up to the bar, slam his empty glass down on the counter, and grin at the bartender. The three watched with more interest when they noticed a woman peel away from her group of friends to talk to him. Jake seemed to be torn between getting the bartender’s attention to fill his glass and listening to the woman, but he eventually started conversing with her. 

“What do you think they’re talking about?” Josh wondered. 

Sam snorted. “He’s probably trying to convince her he has a Grammy.” 

Josh noted that Jake’s body language was unusually confident as he talked to the stranger. The woman towered over him in her heels, but he seemed at ease as they laughed over something. When he got his drink, he looked like he was coming back to them, but then quickly diverted his path to head to the live band, who was playing Midnight Rambler. Josh couldn’t help but chuckle when he saw Jake move uncomfortably close to the stage, staring at the guitarist with his eyes wide. 

“He’s freaking that guy out,” Josh commented under his breath. Sam and Danny paused their side conversation about how Sam could style his cheese hat to watch Jake take slow steps closer and closer to the stage. “He looks like he’s on the brink of taking the guitar away from that guy.” 

“He better not,” Danny frowned. “We’re already banned from a handful of bars because of that.” 

They all exhaled in relief when the band broke into a Cream song and Jake, in complete euphoria, returned to the table. Josh watched in horror as Jake guzzled his second glass down in less than 10 seconds like it was nothing. He let out a burp, smiled happily, patted his stomach, and then jolted upright when he realized he had cleared his pint. 

“How is that surprising to you?” Josh asked Jake. “You’re the one who drank it all, it’s not like it magically disappeared.” 

“These are just going a lot faster than I had anticipated, I guess,” Jake looked troubled. 

They made a pact after some arguing that Jake would stick to water for the night, but that quickly went down the drain when the woman approached the table, gave Jake a wink, and placed another tall pint of sour beer in front of him. Josh wanted to scream at the lady to give that beer to literally anyone else in the establishment but Jake, but his mouth remained glued shut. He watched in despair as Jake, once more, threw the entire pint back like it was a shot. Frat guys around the world would be in utter awe of what he was doing. 

“Water for the rest of the night. I promise,” Jake promised, starting to slur his words. “Mark my word.” 

Jake did not stick to his word. 

Over the next 45 minutes, Jake managed to sneak three more pints of the Copper State Sun Soaked. Whether it be bribing someone to bring him a glass in the bathroom, sipping one under the table, or lapping up spills behind the bar, Jake’s BAC was guaranteed to be nearing staggering heights. 

When Jake decided to tear off his shirt and jump on stage to play the tambourine with the poor live band that was just trying to get through a Bob Seger song, Josh threw in the towel. 

“I can’t do this tonight,” Josh admitted to Danny, who looked equally tired of Jake’s antics. “I’m gonna go back to my room and watch some HGTV to unwind.” 

“And I left the bar after that,” Josh concluded his story. “I’m pretty sure I heard them get back to their room around 2am last night. They were a bit loud, but they quieted down pretty fast.” 

“Your brother said that he stuck to water last night after his third drink,” Doug tapped his chin. 

“Well then, he’s a liar,” Josh shrugged. “I don’t know what to tell you. But what does Jake’s drinking last night have to do with anything?” 

“Nothing you have to worry about,” Doug shook his head. Josh looked like he wanted to protest, but Doug quickly motioned for the door. “Please send your brother, Sam, in. I want to talk to him.” 

“Fine, but you better take it easy on him. He’s a sensitive guy, it doesn’t take a whole lot to spook him,” Josh warned Doug. He chuckled at Josh’s warning and, once more, pointed for the door. 

“No need to worry, I’ll be nice to the little guy.” 

Sam entered the room next, still wearing his cheese hat, which he had styled with a pair of black slacks, a yellow button up shirt, and yellow Adidas. 

“What’s up, Doc?” Sam greeted the older gentleman as he peeled a large orange and started to slide the slices into his mouth. Doug motioned for Sam to take a seat at his desk and Sam complied after he took a pause to snap a photo of Doug’s bald head with his fancy camera. “I never thought I’d get to chat with a hotel manager one-on-one like this,” Sam continued to chatter while balancing the orange peels on top of the desk. 

“Sam,” Doug cleared his throat. “I want you to take this conversation seriously.” 

“Are you mad at me?” Sam theatrically called out, his eyes started to well up. Doug started to stumble on his words, panicking over the fact that the curly haired one had been right about his younger brother. 

“No, of course not,” Doug assured Sam, using his sweetest tone. “I just need you to tell me about your time last night at Ned Kelly’s Pub.” 

“How did you know I was at Ned Kelly’s Pub last night,” Sam squinted his eyes at Doug.

“Your brothers told me.” 

“Oh, well, in that case,” Sam chuckled. He grabbed the desk lamp from Doug’s desk and flicked it on so he could hold it under his chin, creating grisly shadows on his face. “It was a cold and dark night in Green Bay, Wisconsin,” Sam started off in a dramatic tone. Doug took a seat across from him and held his head in his hands. This was going to be a long testimony. 

“Since you already know that we were at Ned Kelly’s Pub, I’ll spare you the details about Daniel and I stealing a horse downtown beforehand. You don’t need to hear about that.” 

“Wait,” Doug tried to interrupt Sam. “I actually do want to hear about that.” 

“I was standing at this tall table with my best friend and my brothers, feeling on top of the world with my cheese hat,” Sam cut off Doug, staring into the distance.

It was a bonkers night. Sam and Daniel kept flashing each other excited grins. They had taken something in the parking lot of the bar to really lean into the That 70s Show fantasy that Daniel was trying to live out. Sam had no idea what they had sent into their systems, but it tasted like cherries and made him feel like he was floating. 

He could hear what his brothers and Daniel were saying, but his head wasn’t processing any of it. He felt like he was on autopilot as he gave short answers and laughed when everyone else did. When the conversation shifted to Jake’s drinking, Sam found himself staring daggers at the bartender. He couldn’t help it, the guy looked just like Ben Affleck. In fact, the more Sam stared at him, the more certain he was that the guy really was the A-list actor. Sam had hated his portrayal of Bruce Wayne in Batman Vs. Superman; it was a travesty.

He was ready to storm up to the guy to demand who he thought he was, dating J-Lo and being the moody cigarette “it” boy and all, but Jake beat him to it. Sam watched Jake approach the bartender and let his shoulders slump in defeat. That was a fight to pick later. Plus anyways, Sam had a bigger bone to chew: there was a portal opening on the dancefloor. Sam stared at the streaking lights of blue, yellow, and orange that seemed to be flinging out of the portal in every direction and could tell that his eyes were dilating. 

“Woah,” he whispered out in awe. Josh gave him a quick glance but shook his head and went back to blabbing about how Jake was weird for liking the sour beer. Sam was pretty sure he had agreed that it tasted bad, but really he didn’t mind it. His sense of taste was heightened to God-levels, so each sip made him feel like he was consuming the elixir of life. 

Sam tried to send Daniel morse code messages by batting his eyelashes, but Daniel just winked back at him. He was disappointed that they hadn’t reached the point where they could telepathically communicate with each other, but he knew it was bound to happen eventually. 

“How do bus drivers exit the bus and close the door when they’re the last shift?” Sam wondered aloud. Josh didn’t hear him, but Daniel did and widened his eyes, his mouth hung open. 

“Dude,” Daniel mumbled in awe. Sam was too hung up on that philosophical question to notice Jake rejoining their table, cradling another pint. He only turned his attention towards his older brother when he saw Jake unhinge his jaw to suck down all of the beer in one animalistic gulp out of the corner of his eye. Sam paled at the sight and started to run through the possibilities. 

Was his brother a lizard person? Was that a normal thing that people could do? Or did he and Daniel take some seriously good shit in the parking lot? 

Josh started to yell something at Jake, and Sam cupped his head in his hand, focusing on breathing through his ears. He saw a woman with five arms approach Jake and slip another drink in his hand. All over again, Jake’s jaw unhinged and the drink was gone. He chewed the glass and everything. 

Sam couldn’t stay silent on the issue anymore, and tried to blink in morse code to Daniel, “BATHROOM” but Daniel fluttered his eyelashes back at Sam, obviously not getting the message. Sam sighed and jutted his thumb in some general direction. 

“It’s piss time for me, the piss boy,” he shouted over the music. Josh and Jake both paused from their arguing to stare at Sam, and then Sam scampered away. 

He was grateful that Daniel trailed behind him and leaned into his side when they were out of sight of the twins.

“Jake is a lizard person,” Sam shared. Daniel jumped away from Sam and shook his head in disbelief. 

“No way. But he doesn’t like the sunlight that much.” 

“Did you see him eat that pint glass?” 

“No?” 

“You must have been distracted by something else.” 

“I saw a guy standing in the corner of the room who claimed he was my great-great-grandfather,” Danny remembered. “Wait, what were we talking about?” 

Sam tried to think back on what information he had been so desperate to share with Daniel, but came up short. “I think the bartender is Ben Affleck,” he remembered. 

“That guy stunk as Batman,” Daniel clenched his fist. 

By the time they made it back to their table, Josh looked beyond fed up. He went on a rant about something, but Sam was too busy trying to spot the light molecules coming off the disco ball over the dancefloor to listen. Jake wandered away a few times and, each time he came back, his face looked brighter and happier, until he was a beaming ray of light. Sam squinted to see him. 

“I’m going back to my room,” Josh grumbled, tugging on Sam’s arm to get his attention. Sam made a comment that he thought might make sense, and then focused back on Jake, who had magically appeared on top of the bar and was missing his shirt. 

Ben Affleck shouted something towards Sam and Daniel, and his face turned tomato red when Sam gave him a thumbs up. Sam wondered if the thumbs up gesture meant something rude in Wisconsin, and made a vow to keep his thumb to himself. 

From 10:30pm to 12:30am, Sam stood in the bathroom, gaping at his reflection in the mirror. He could have sworn that his eyes were starting to droop down his cheeks the longer he stared, and the only way he could put them back in place was if he smiled as hard as he could. It was a daunting task but, after 2 committed hours, he finally decided that droopy eyes were actually kind of cool. 

He exited from the bathroom and turned in fifteen full circles looking for Jake and Daniel, but they were nowhere to be seen. Sam wanted to sob at the thought of being left alone, but he quickly reasoned with himself that they trusted him on his own, and had given him a quest to make his way back to the hotel in one piece. 

So Sam stepped out of the bar and dawdled around the empty Green Bay streets. At one point he shed his shoes and chucked them into the river for the fish to wear. He plodded through the desolate neighborhoods, whistling classical music to himself that his parents had played for him on Baby Einstein CDs as a child. He was everywhere and nowhere at once. It was beautiful. 

He couldn’t say for certain what he had accomplished in those hours, but he vaguely recalled something to do with a helicopter, multiple slices of Kraft singles, and a raccoon who wouldn’t stop screaming. 

Around 3am, Sam finally stepped foot into their hotel lobby and was struck with a jarring familiarity at the space. 

“This is my home,” Sam realized in delight. “I made it home. My journey is complete.” 

“And then I fell asleep until literally 20 minutes ago when Josh dragged me out of my room to come down and see you,” Sam finished his tale. Doug looked at him with a twitching eye. 

“You’re telling me you were the one who hijacked the helicopter off the top of the Bellin Building and drove down near the interstate to throw cheese slices at cars?” 

“Probably,” Sam shrugged. “I still don’t know where the screaming raccoon came in though.” 

“Tell me this,” Doug pinched at the bridge of his nose. “Do you remember seeing anything out of the ordinary when you came into the hotel lobby?” 

“I was on drugs,” Sam reminded Doug. “Everything I saw was out of the ordinary.” 

“This is no use,” Doug grumbled. “Is your friend gonna be any help to me, or was he out tripping balls all night long too?” 

“Daniel has a crystal clear memory, inebriated or not,” Sam proudly shared. 

“Send him in then,” Doug asked. Sam shrugged, popped up from his seat, took one more photo of Doug’s bald head, and skipped out of the room. 

“This is a nightmare,” Doug groaned before taking a couple aspirin. 

Danny wandered into the room, looking around him in a panic. When he saw the hotel manager staring at him, he gulped and forced his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. 

“Can I help you?” Danny squeaked. Doug’s furrowed brow loosened when he saw how much the poor guy was trembling. 

“Your friend told me that you have a pretty good memory,” Doug sounded out his words. “It would be a massive help to me and my report if I could get a detailed look into everything that happened with you and your friends last night.” 

Danny looked pale, but he slowly nodded his head. 

“What do you need to know?” 

“Tell me what happened from the second you entered the bar, to when you made it back to your hotel room.” 

“Okay,” Danny whispered. 

The night was frankly a mess. Jake, Josh, Sam, and Danny all squeezed around a tall pub table, leaning over their pints to sip out of the top of the overfilled glasses. Danny was feeling a bit woozy from the LSD he and Sam had taken in the parking lot before entering the bar. It had been Sam’s treat: he wanted Danny to feel like a teen in the 70s as much as he could. Weed probably would have done the trick, but Danny appreciated the gesture. 

It was clear that Sam was hallucinating more than Danny, because every glimpse he caught of his friend, Sam looked like he was seeing the world for the first time. Danny, on the other hand, was dealing with a gnarly headache, a rapid heartbeat, and an overall feeling of disorientation. Sure, he kept seeing a guy who kinda looked like him, but dressed in Pilgrim clothing, speaking in a hush about being his ancestor, but that was the only thing that felt out of the ordinary. 

He took slow sips of the nasty sour beer that made his stomach groan in even more protest, and listened as Jake and Josh poked fun at Sam’s cheese hat. Danny wanted to stand up for Sam and tell off the twins for not respecting the cheese hat, but he felt so queasy, he didn’t want to risk what would happen when he opened his mouth. 

Jake took a long sip from his beer, entirely clearing it of its contents, and Danny was relieved when Josh spoke up. 

“Pace yourself, tiger,” Josh warned his brother. 

“Oh, geez,” Jake murmured under his breath, staring at his glass in awe. Danny could tell that he was surprised by how fast the beer had gone down; they had hardly been standing at the table for more than five minutes. Danny knew: he could feel every second tick away. 

Jake looked conflicted, but eventually opted to take his glass back to the bar for a refill. While he was gone, Josh leaned forward to check and see if Danny and Sam liked the beer at all. Danny let out a burning burp that made him flinch, and then coughed out that it wasn’t great. What really wasn’t great was how his body was reacting to the LSD. 

He watched through squinted eyes as Jake chatted with a nice looking woman at the bar, and then meandered over to the live band that was playing the Allman Brothers. Once he got them to play a Cream song, he made his way back to the table, looking proud of himself. 

“Hey there, social butterfly,” Josh taunted Jake. 

“Fuck you,” Jake growled. "So maybe I like this place."

“So what you’re saying is it’s gonna be impossible to get you out of here, right?” Danny stared at Jake. The last thing he wanted was to be trapped in that bar while he felt like such shit. 

“You’re gonna have to drag me out of here kicking and screaming,” Jake chuckled in between drinks.  

“Jesus Christ,” Sam gaped at Jake. 

“What?” Jake asked, confused once more. Sam, Danny, and Josh all pointed at the tall pint in Jake’s right hand. Jake held it up to his eyeline and paled. It was empty again. “How the hell did I do that?” Jake choked out. 

“You drank that thing like it was a watering hole in the middle of the Sahara,” Danny observed. Jake studied his loose black button up top and took in the dark beer stains dotting his chest and collar. His face reddened in embarrassment. 

“I’ll tone it down, I promise,” he said. “I know we’re leaving tomorrow.” 

“Yeah, and you’re supposed to drive the second leg,” Josh nodded. “I’m not covering for your ass.” 

“I’d ask Sam to drive that leg before I asked you,” Jake protested. “You stink at driving.” 

“Look who’s talking, Mr. Go-95-On-The-Highway!” Josh exclaimed, waving his hands around in a fury.

“It was late at night, there was hardly anyone on the road!” Jake defended himself. 

“Hey, hey,” Danny waved his arms across the table to get the twins to quit bickering. It was really starting to hurt his head. “Let’s not argue over something that isn’t even a problem yet, okay?” 

Danny felt like he had gotten the situation under control, until the woman approached their table. 

“I figured out where I know you from,” she smiled at Jake, looking proud. Jake arched an eyebrow. “You’re from that rock band!” 

“You finally got it,” Jake laughed. 

“Here, have this on me," the woman said.

Jake stared at the tall pint that the woman was handing out to him with hungry eyes. 

“Oh no,” Danny could hear Josh whisper. 

“It’s a Copper State Sun Soaked - I overheard you ordering it at the bar,” the woman continued as she slipped the glass into Jake’s waiting hands. 

“Cheers,” Jake told her. The woman waved goodbye to him and made her way across the bar back to her friend group. Jake looked down at the pint in his hands, and then up at his band members. 

“Give me that,” Josh motioned at Jake. “Before you do something stupid.” 

Jake kept the glass firm in his hands, and tipped it back. 

“You’re kidding me,” Danny gaped. 

“He did it again,” Sam’s eyes widened. 

Jake’s hands shook as he gaped at the third empty glass he had seen in under 20 minutes. “I swear,” he croaked out, “I’m not doing this on purpose.” 

“It sure as hell seems like you are,” Josh countered. “You downed that whole thing while making eye contact with me. In fact, it felt really targeted.” 

“Water for the rest of the night. I promise,” Jake looked around at everyone. “Mark my word.” 

Danny wished they could have just gone back to the hotel at that point, but things never went that smoothly. After having a brief check in with Sam that confirmed Danny’s suspicions that Sam was having the trip of a lifetime, they returned back to their table to find Jake in a much worse state than they had left him. 

“He keeps drinking this shit,” Josh grumbled to Danny, motioning at the pile of empty glasses surrounding Jake. “I can’t get him to stop.” 

“Can’t stop, won’t stop,” Jake burped out. 

“Can stop, should stop,” Josh countered. Jake gave Josh a loud and juicy raspberry, and then tore his shirt over his head. 

“No shirt, no service!” the bartender hollered at Jake as he hopped onto the live band’s small makeshift stage and smacked a tambourine against his ass to their Bob Seger song. 

“I DON’T NEED SERVICE FROM YEW WANKER!” Jake hollered at the man in between barking laughs. Josh stared at his twin in silence for a few beats, and then shook his head in disappointment. 

“I’m not doing this tonight,” Josh spoke in a low grumble. “I’m gonna go back to my room and watch some HGTV to unwind.” 

Danny watched him step away from their table, flip off Jake, and silently move out of the bar and down the city street. He desperately wanted to run after Josh, begging for them to leave together, but he remained glued in place. Jake was transforming into Oliver Reed, and that was something you couldn’t leave unsupervised.

“BOB SEGER IS A GENTLEMAN IF I’VE EVER KNOWN ONE!” Oliver Reed hollered from the stage. He took a pause from his incoherent shouting to bash the tambourine a couple of times over the drummer’s head. 

“Security!” the guitarist called out in a panic. “Can you get this guy out of here?” 

Danny hurried to the stage, climbed up onto the elevated wooden platform, and hoisted Jake over his shoulder. “HOW DARE YEW PUT YER GRIMY HANDS ON ME YEW BIG OLD BUFFOON!” Oliver Reed howled at Danny while trying to scratch him. He got in a few good swipes that slowed Danny down, but he successfully carried his friend out of the bar and was even met with applause as they left. 

Once they were a block away from the bar, Danny set Jake down and forced his shirt into his hands. 

“Put that back on, dude,” Danny snapped. “It’s, like, 30 degrees outside.” 

“ME NIPS KNOW NOTHIN ‘BOUT WEATHER! I’M A MACHINE THAT DOESN’T FEEL COLD, YA TWAT!” 

Danny stared at Jake in disbelief. Oliver Reed was being more of a menace than usual. 

As if his words weren’t biting enough, Jake leaned forward, kicked Danny in the shin, and then tore in the opposite direction down the street. “I hate my life,” Danny groaned before chasing after Jake. 

“RUN RUN RUN AS FAST AS YEW CAN, YEW CAN’T CATCH ME CUZ’ I’M THE BDE MAN!” Oliver Reed cackled over his shoulder at Danny. 

Danny wasn’t happy that Jake was outrunning him by so much, but he could blame that on the LSD. It was challenging to run in a straight line when it felt like the night sky was below Danny’s feet. Talk about bad timing for the hallucinations to kick in. 

“Jake! Oliver! Whoever you are!” Danny called after his friend in desperation. “Can you please stop? I’m so tired!” 

“NO!” Oliver Reed’s voice echoed off in the distance. 

Danny huffed and tried to pick up his pace. Jake was edging closer to the waterfront, and it was making Danny nervous. When Oliver Reed came out, he was often motivated to dive into whatever water was closest by to “seduce the mermaids.” Danny knew for a fact that Oliver Reed didn’t know how to swim (the man sank like a stone), so the stakes were higher than ever. 

Thank goodness Jake stopped. Danny would have been more relieved if he hadn’t done it in the middle of six lanes of oncoming traffic. 

“I PART THEE, RED SEA!” Oliver Reed held a hand up to the cars that were swerving to avoid him. Danny forced back a scream and put his head down to power towards his friend without being smushed into oblivion by an 18-wheeler. How he made it to Jake unscathed, he had no clue. “THE RED SEA! JUST LIKE YER MUM’S PANTIES LAST NIGHT!” Oliver Reed screeched at a cab that just barely missed him. 

“OLIVER!” Danny yelled at the top of his lungs. He was surprised that he actually had his attention. Even though Jake had somehow acquired sunglasses and a fake beard since leaving the bar, making it hard to read his facial expressions, he could still see that Jake was listening to him attentively. “Get out of the road!” Danny continued. 

Jake stared at him a bit longer, and then started to sprint away from Danny again. 

“SKEEDOOSH!” Oliver Reed called over his shoulder with a barking laugh. 

Danny chased Jake nearly everywhere in the city, from the downtown area to the less-populated rural areas just outside of town. It was exhausting work, and Danny kept thinking that Jake was bound to flop over, but he wouldn’t stop. Danny was starting to think that the guy really was a machine, until they made it to the front doors of their hotel. 

“Best be getting me to bed,” Oliver Reed announced at the most normal volume Danny had heard all night. 

“Good,” Danny gasped for breath. 

Entirely unaffected by their extensive aerobics, Jake pushed the front door open and made his way into the lobby. 

“Wouldn’t turn down a sip or two of the good shit,” he decided. Danny tried to stop Jake, but he was moving on a mission towards the bar area, even though it was closed. Danny nearly tripped over Jake’s feet when he came to an abrupt halt, looking up at something in awe, as if looking into the face of a deity. 

“Would yew look at ‘at,” he breathed out as he took in the lifesize statue of Captain Morgan that was standing tall and proud in the middle of the hotel lobby. “The captain of the seven seas, Mr. Cap’n Morgan. I thought he was only a myth, but there he is. Wild shit.” 

“Take a picture, it’ll last you longer,” Danny said, trying to move Jake along. Jake stood firm, staring at Captain Morgan with a newfound interest. 

“He’s tellin’ me I’m shit,” Oliver Reed suddenly growled. “That old Oliver Fucking Reed himself is no worthy pirate. Well, I’ll show ‘im. I’ll show that bastard.” 

“Jake,” Danny’s voice squeaked in shock as he watched Jake jump at the Captain Morgan statue and tear his left hand away like a rabid animal. The sword that was in the statue’s hand loudly clattered to the floor, and Jake was quick to scoop it up. 

“WHO’S THE BEST PIRATE NOW, MORGAN? EH? THE BLOKE WITH ONE HAND AND NO SWORD? I DON’T THINK SO!” 

“Jake!” Danny cried out once more as Jake swirled the sword around and jabbed it into the statue’s plaster chest. 

“YAR!” Oliver Reed cried in triumph. “VICTORY ONCE MORE FOR THE BRITS! GOD SAVE THE QUEEN! OR WHOEVER THE BLOKE IN POWER IS NOW!”

Danny had to plank to the ground with a yelp when Jake chucked Captain Morgan’s left hand as hard as he could across the lobby. They both watched it soar towards the front doors, which automatically opened for the hand and closed when it had fully passed through. Jake attempted to chop with the sword a couple of times as if he was cutting a head of lettuce, and then lit a large cigar to celebrate his victory. 

Danny rose back to his feet and, while Oliver Reed was chuckling to himself about what a great swordsman he was, he lurched forward and forced the sword out of Jake’s grasp. 

“BOLLOCKS!” Oliver Reed hollered in despair. “I’VE BEEN ROBBED!” 

“You’ve been saved,” Danny corrected Jake, holding the sword under Jake’s chin. 

“I’ll call it a draw,” Oliver Reed gulped. 

“You’re gonna do what I say, okay?” Danny growled at the troublemaker. Jake nodded, wincing at the feeling of the sword up against his jugular. “We’re gonna take a nice walk up to your room, you’re gonna get in bed, and you’re gonna have the best night’s sleep of your life.” 

“That sounds bloody nice,” Oliver Reed thought aloud. “Better than a sword through the heart, I reckon.” 

So Danny led Jake upstairs to his room, saw that he made it under his covers, and only left when he heard soft snores coming from the bed. Then he went to the shore of Lake Michigan and chucked the sword as far as he could. 

Finally feeling content with where things were at, Danny made his way to his own room and immediately passed out under the covers to sleep off the LSD. 

“I’m so sorry, Sir,” Danny told Doug with sincerity. “I tried to keep my friend from messing with your statue, but you should see how fast he moves while intoxicated. He’s like a cat.” 

“I should have talked to you first,” Doug gazed at Danny in interest. “That would have saved me a hell of a lot of time and a headache.” 

“What are you going to do with us?” Danny looked fearful. “I can promise you all of this was a big mixup, we have nothing against Captain Morgan, his brand, or your hotel partnership.” 

“Gather your friends. I want to talk to you all.” 

Danny looked on the brink of soiling himself, but he left the room and shortly came back with Jake, Josh and Sam. In his time away, Sam had managed to acquire a cheese board to serve as an accessory with the rest of his outfit. 

They all crowded into the cramped office and Jake shot Danny a worried glance. Danny wasn’t sure how much Jake knew or remembered, so he opted to keep his eyes glued to the floor. He hated how awful he was at lying when he was stressed; he should have done more to cover for his friend instead of recounting every part of the night in excruciating detail. Jake was bound to never talk to him again. Probably Josh too. Sam would most likely still be his friend because he thought it was funny when Jake got in trouble. 

“You’ve probably pieced together why I brought you all in here today,” Doug shared with the group. 

“Nope,” Sam shook his head. “I’m still stumped.” 

“My Captain Morgan statue was desecrated last night, and it’s come to my attention that one of you is at fault.” 

Danny continued to study the floor. 

“Captain Morgan?” Jake’s voice trailed off. His face dropped. The previous night was coming back to him fast. He had not stuck to water after his three pints of beer. 

“Oh no!” Josh called out. “I liked that guy! Very nice decor. Very aquatic.” 

“Captain Morgan,” Doug looked at Jake. Jake stared back at him with wide eyes. “Son, you really need to tone it down with the sour beers.” 

“So I’m not the one who’s in trouble?” Sam asked around. When no one responded to him, he gave the room a peace sign and strolled out the door. “Later skaters,” he called over his shoulder. 

“I know,” Jake choked. “Sour beers aren’t good for me.” 

“They’re just not good, period,” Josh corrected Jake. 

“It’s my fault too,” Danny burst out. “I should have stopped Jake.” 

“You tried your best,” Doug gave Danny a sympathetic gaze. “You weren’t the one who tore off the hand.” 

“But I did dump the sword in the lake.” 

“For the welfare of everyone in the vicinity. I can respect that.” 

“Wait, Jake had a sword last night?” Josh looked around at everyone. “And I missed it?” 

“I’m going to ask that you cover the charge to fix Captain Morgan,” Doug told Jake. “Whether it was your alter ego or not, you were caught on those security cameras doing the dirty work.” 

“So you knew it was me all along?” Jake couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Then why did you make us go through all of that interrogating?” 

Doug shrugged. “I mostly just wanted to try to understand why someone would destroy something as sacred as my Captain Morgan statue.” 

Jake pondered this and eventually nodded, like he understood where Doug was coming from. 

“But now I’m also sitting on a lot of information that the Green Bay police department would find valuable about that horse and helicopter theft that went down last night.” 

“You know, it’s been so nice meeting you,” Danny nervously chuckled, pushing on Jake and Josh’s backs to steer them out of the room. “Jake will get that check sent to you as soon as you get us the invoice. Whatever the price, we’ve got it covered. Thank you so much for your hospitality, and we’ll make sure to give this place five stars on Yelp.” 

Once they were out of the doorframe, Danny looked between the twins. 

“Run,” he hissed. “We’re not getting caught for any more of our crimes today.” 

[michellemisfit]

Weekly Tag Wednesday ✈️ Neeeooow Edition

Thanks for the tag @deedala @energievie @sam-loves-seb @mybrainismelted @sleepyfacetoughguy @guinguin1984

—---------------------------

Name: Michelle

Age: Old enough to know better

Location: My bed, wrapped in a fuzzy blanket

📍where are we going? I wanna say Cape Cod, but it’s -3 there right now, so fuck that. Australia it is! 🦘

📍whats the weather like there right now? 22•C (feels like 24), according to Google

📍are you an over-packer or a light-packer? Over-packer, though I have also been known to pack 12 bras but not bring any pants… though these days I keep very detailed lists and get Ruth to double check my packing multiple times!

📍are we taking a plane or a train? If you can find me a train, I’ll take it! Hahaha but no. Neeeooow all the way! ✈️

📍early morning departure or an overnight trip? If we’re going to Australia it’s gonna be all of it. Loooong travel. I’m gonna watch so many movie and my butt is gonna go so numb!!

📍what song are you playing in the car while we drive to catch our departure?

📍we need to grab something on the way, starbucks or dunkin? Fucking Dunkin’ Donuts. The last time I was in the states we stopped at a Dunkin for donuts and were informed that they didn’t have any donuts… like, wtf? And then we found out that they are phasing out selling donuts. Like, double wtf?!? So yeah, Starbucks all the way.

📍we've made it to the transportation place 🚂✈️! be honest, are we on-time or are we rushing because we're running late? Always early. I’d rather spend an extra 3 hours in an airport McDonalds than be late for a plane. I get travel anxiety.

📍are you taking the window seat or the aisle seat? I like the aisle seat for the freedom to pee when I want, without annoying someone else! (This is gonna be everyone’s answer, isn’t it? haha)

📍we're settled in our seats, are you gonna read or watch a movie/show? Bit of both. I do like getting my money’s worth in beverages and free movies, so I try and watch and consume as many as possible. But sometimes my ears hurt from too much earbud wearing, so I switch to reading for a bit. Then back to movies!

📍what are you reading/watching? Generally all the movies I thought ‘oh, might go and see that’ in the cinema and never did. And then as we get closer to landing I will swap to a movie I know inside out, because it will inevitably cut off before I get to the end.

📍are you using wireless or wired headphones? Wired. I don’t fuck with pods.

📍are you going to take a nap or stay awake? I can sleep pretty much anywhere, but I get overtired and twitchy anxious on planes, so I’m not the best airplane sleeper.

📍do you want a salty snack or a sweet snack? Salty snack 90% of the time. However I also like bringing my own selection of snacks, so I’m not held to the whims of the airplane company! lol

📍we've arrived! are we heading straight to activities or are we gonna rest at the hotel? I actually don’t mind. I’ve gone straight from airports to restaurants, concerts, plays etc and it’s been fine. Make the most of the day you’ve got and all that. Depends on how much luggage I’ve got though.

📍finally, pick a treat to reward yourself for a travel day well done! A nice looooong sleep in a comfy bed!!!

Tagging @darlingian @too-schoolforcool @jrooc @heymacy @heymrspatel @gallawitchxx @juliakayyy @crossmydna @rutherinahobbit @rereadanon @redshirt2 @crestfallercanyon @creepkinginc @captainjowl @the-rat-wins @tsuga-of-mars @ian-galagher @iansfreckles @ohkate @faejilly @palepinkgoat @sickness-health-all-that-shit @look-i-love-u @francesrose3 @vintagelacerosette @gardenerian @lynne-monstr @notherenewjersey @mickeygifs @mikhailoisbaby come travel with me 🥰

[wickedrebelthorn]

History Repeats

[I’m many things, but some people think I’m stupid. As the only daughter of Les Packer, I often get treated like a biker princess. Am I Daddy’s baby? Yes, but I’m also my twin brother’s baby sister. I miss when my brother, @rebelofareaper wasn’t so fucking broken. I guess to explain that I have to take you back about twenty years. Chris was still healing from having his heart broken by @aurorayorkrp. We were sitting in the clubhouse with Daddy when there was a knock on the door. Bruiser, Dad’s Enforcer had answered it, and I wasn’t paying attention at first to who was at the door.  

“Is Packer here?”

It took me a few minutes to recognize the voice after Bruiser told them to fuck off.

“Look, asshole, I don’t know who the hell you are, but I know for damn sure Packer wouldn’t like it if he heard you speak to me like that!”

I hopped off the bar stool I was sitting on and ran to my daddy and @rebelofareaper.]

Chris! Where’s Daddy? Lexi’s here and fucking Bruiser won’t let her in the door.

[I’d never seen my brother jump off his bed so damn fast. He nearly knocked me over trying to get to the front door.

“BRUISER! LET HER IN! It’s raining, and cold and she has a baby with her!”

I blinked as @ofpetalsnash walked in and my brother was pushing a stroller. Daddy walked into the room, and I couldn’t help but giggle.

“Christian Les Packer, is that your baby?”

I watched my brother hold this tiny baby and I was getting all warm and fuzzy.

“No, sir, this is Davidson Jackson Teller. Your Sugar Bean called last night and said she would be alone with this little man. She asked if she could visit for a while. I told her that it was okay. It is okay, right, Daddy?”

By this point, I was crying since @rebelofareaper just took to Davidson like glue. I was worried Daddy would be pissed.

“It's more than okay! Come here my Sugar Bean! I’ve missed your gorgeous face! Chris you are holding that boy like he is yours. Let the rest of us have a chance!”

I never thought that @rebelofareaper would fall but he fell hard and fast for @ofpetalsnash but he did and shortly after @ofrebelash was born. I swore that I would never do that, but almost twenty years later, I fell for a man who left me pregnant with his son. My son is three months old, and I have found another who loves us both in @ofwickedghost. I just hope he stays around.]                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                    

[icarian-carrion]

character info sheet.

Name: Tisha Whileaway

Name meaning: Tisha changed her name back in 2013 after leaving home and starting her career as an artist. She has legally changed it since for convenience's sake. Tisha comes from the Latin name Leticia, meaning joy. Whileaway she took from writer Johanna Russ’s feminist sci fi writing. In Russ’s short story When It Changed, Whileaway is a human colony planet made up entirely of women.

Alias(ses): You could call her birth name Kavitha an alias (She considers Tisha to be her real name now), but she doesn't really use it. She's essentially always Tisha - only her family still calls her Kavitha.

Two pictures you like of your character:

Three headcanons you never told anyone: (This is actually headcanons I’ve never told anyone this time around because they’re very old whoops)

The consequences for Tisha being turned into a vampire would be dire. Her second sight plus a vampire’s perception would turn her into a kind of a vampiric Dr. Manhattan, seeing and experiencing all of reality at the same time. She’d live through it, but it would not be a good thing.

Tisha has exactly 1 (one) canon past life though there are probably more. She was a dye merchant in Ancient Rome. This ended poorly.

Tisha has a BA in Art History from McMaster University, where she also played on the women’s rugby team.

Three things your character likes to do in their free time:

Travel. Tisha loves taking in new sights and adding to her visual lexicon.

Go to hockey and football games (She’s a Leafs girl and is invested in the Argos, but if all there is to watch is an NFL game she will show up for the Packers)

Go bar hopping, which will usually end at a dance club. Tisha loves the chaos and noise of the nightlife, and will try to drink you under the table.

Three people your character loves:

Her family. I have to keep this to one slot because she has (checks notes) four brothers, two sisters, eleven nieces and nephews, and nine aunts and uncles. It’s a massive family, and while she can’t be her complete self with them, she loves them.

Her friends, especially the supernatural ones (one slot for the same reason). Tisha loves quickly and deeply, there is very little daylight between a first meeting and “I will risk my life for you” which is a character flaw but she doesn’t see it that way.

She doesn’t have a partner, but expect her to love as deep and as fast as she does her friends when she finds one. Tisha loves love, loves being in love, loves having a muse she adores.

Two things your character regrets:

Picking up smoking. She started when she was seventeen for the aesthetic, and now that she’s almost thirty and she’s not as athletic as she was, it’s a drag.

Never finding a way to explain what she is to her parents. She thinks it’s probably for the best, but she has a good relationship with them, and hiding it from them is extremely difficult.

Three phobias (fears) your character has:

Silence.

Similarly, going blind, or anything that robs her of one or more senses.

Forest fires.

tagged by: @radicalrascals about a zillion years ago bc I am bad at doing these but I appreciated it so so much thank you.

tagging: @deepseawarlock @gretaphasmatosmartin @bloodrodeo @worldofsenelfy @adsagsona

[us-the-voices-and-more-voices-2]

honestly sometimes I forget you internet mutuals haven’t had the chance to talk to like people passionately about things they like.

because that is my reason to live sometimes.

you will never understand how beautiful and amazing the world is until you ask the right questions with curiosity.

because the other day I was talking with this guy I barely caught his name but we were talking about technology and technical drawing.

and also physics and shit (it was awesome)

and sometimes I just forget how fucking amazing it is to talk to people about things they love with a passion about things they want to share and discuss.

because people are so mean about it sometimes, I can’t tell you how many amazing little stories I carry close to me that others have told me.

the laughter and joy they told me these things, just like it’s so nice.

you feel anxious because you don’t know them, but your curious and you say “damn it all I want to know”

and I’ve learned so much.

life is sharing stories and sharing experiences, that’s who we are.

and sometimes we feel alone and scared because life and people and politics have polarized us so much.

but we are still people no matter what people want to do to us.

anyway ask questions, talk to your local businesses and artists and teachers and grocery packers and just everyone.

ask them “so what’s something you like to do”

ask them “what’s something your passionate about?”

ask them questions and ask them kindly.

live life and enjoy the people in it.

even if we disagree who cares I will never agree with everyone that’s life.

[tempestgnostic]

i want to write an essay at some point about the parallels between my phantom shifts in terms of my gender and my alterhumanity, but specifically from the perspective of why most ‘gear’ makes me incredibly dysphoric or feel more distant from my body. for now i’ll just detail some thoughts on the matter.

so i have, over the years, never learned my lesson that packers don’t actually make me feel gender euphoria—even the one i got that has a sheath and everything, that should make me feel more akin to who i am. i think it’s because i’ve gotten so used to the visceral, weighty experiences i have with phantom appendages already. i know what those body parts feel like, and i can interact with them almost as if they are. explicit anatomy and sex discussions beneath the cut.

like, it’s not just about ‘jacking off’ what is essentially empty space between my legs. i know every bit of anatomy intimately, from tip to base. it’s, weirdly, how i was able to give great head to my ex, despite it being my first time. with zero instruction on the subject, i knew what would feel good—and, if i’m being frank, she wholeheartedly agreed. and it’s way more satisfying for me to just manipulate those phantom parts versus having something there. and i even have a toy that you can put a T-dick into and jack it off that way! i’ve used it before, and it’s fun! but something about the physicality of it brings me into a space where i realize it doesn’t ‘click’ with me.

there are incredible studies out there about the use of prosthetics and how, for some folks, their brain begins to ‘inhabit’ them in a way that is incredibly profound. their brain integrates the prosthetic into the body map. it is a part of their body the second they identify it as such, of course. it’s just really neat how the brain agrees and works to cement that fact within itself. for me, i think the infrequency of my use probably contributes. the really good genital prosthetics are super expensive, and i’m not sure if i could handle the cost, the maintenance, all of that. maybe someday.

but i feel the same about phantom shifts. sure, i have a badass leather dog mask, but it doesn’t feel like me when i put it on. it feels like a mask. and when i’m in a shift, it feels like a mask superimposed over an actual muzzle that feels way more real to me. my identity, both as a trans person and as an alterhuman, is extremely sensory for me. i suspect being autistic plays a huge role as well; i need to have my hair stroked gently, to have somebody run their fingernails over the fur on the back of my neck, or kiss me and tell me how soft my beard is. i need to be pressed up against someone after sex, ‘locked’ in place even when there’s no knot there, not even a toy, just the sensory experience that both of us can feel. (i’ve had two sexual partners, independent of each other, tell me that they explicitly felt like i was locked inside them, and i hadn’t even told one of them that this is how i see my body.)

to have someone else who can feel that anatomy the way that i do? that’s the greatest gender and species euphoria i have ever felt, bar none. i felt so connected to my body—to my partner’s body—in those moments. that feeling was greater than any orgasm i’ve ever had, and that radiant euphoria is why i’m desperate for more of that feeling. i mean, hell—i can give myself an earth-shattering orgasm any time i want. i regularly feel like i’m turning time and space sideways and seeing the face of god. that’s easy. but the need that sex fulfills for me, really and truly, is the need to feel like myself—so much so that my partner feels it, too, and loves what they feel from me.

[maylorscardigan]

oh my god!!! You’re back!!!! I thought I’d never see you on here again. How ARE you girl?!

but I gotta know….

what are you thinking / feeling about Taylor & Travis? Matty & Gabby?

Wow. Wasting no time I see. Haha.

I enjoyed the rest of my summer. Took a good break from social media for the most part. Started writing my first novel. Been writing some lyrics. Went on vacation. Made a career change. Normal life stuff.

As for the elephant in the room around here…

Matty & Taylor both look happy which is ultimately what any of us want. If they’re happy then great.

I have no real opinion on Travis or Gabby. I don’t know much about them.

However, I AM a Green Bay Packers fan (CHEESE HEADS!!!). So you will never see me support KC or care for their games. If Taylor is there, awesome. Social media will catch me up.

I mean… even though GB & KC only play each other like once every 4 years… it’s still a big rivalry for the two teams.

That being said - I AM a fan of Jason Kelce and I enjoy his personality. I have always watched bits and pieces of the pod cast since it started. I don’t particularly jive with Travis’ personality but he’s a Libra… it’s the same one as my sister and while I love her… our personalities are just a big nope together lol.

At the end of the day - if Gabby and Travis make them happy then cool. But I kept it neutral when she was with Joe A anyway. That’s all.

I will continue to support both of them. I’ve been down this road before. I’ve seen this film before. I’ve been a fan of his since 2012 and hers since 2006 so really, nothing changes in that regard.