#this song came on shuffle in the car after i came out as trans to my parents and it broke me then

[rigorsmors]

over here minding my own business, 3D modeling sewers, listening to my playlist and then 'diamond eyes' by shinedown comes on shuffle and suddenly idk if i'm vibing or about to break down in tears

[ronweasleyisourking]

This is How We Dance Chapter Four | Read on AO3 here

Gin was extremely uncomfortable. After Mary had cut off what her friend Sirius was saying, no one had said anything. He didn’t want to impose on what seemed like touchy subject matter, but he was also super curious. Plus, he really liked Mary and wanted to know everything about her. He decided to talk to her later, so that they would not be in a car when the discussion was happening. He had learned not to bring up touchy subject matter while in cars. He focused on not having a panic attack as he followed his phone’s directions to Mary’s house.

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Meanwhile in the other car, Hestia and Alice were discussing who was at fault for Gwenog never having watched Lemonade Mouth and also, not knowing who Hayley Kiyoko was. It began when Wanna Be Missed started playing on Alice’s phone, who had her Spotify playlist on shuffle.

“Wanna be loved every night, wanna know she's only mine, breathe her in, give me life, got all these hearts in line, they all wasting their time, ‘cause only you do me right…”

“Man, didn’t you love Hayley Kiyoko in Lemonade Mouth,” Alice asked the whole car when she recognized the song playing, not realizing what she was starting.

“What’s Lemonade Mouth,” Gwenog asked, sleepily. She loved hanging out with her cousin, but she never got her references, because they were all before her time.

Alice’s jaw dropped. “Tia, have you been depriving your little sister of one of the greatest Disney movies of all time? How can she not know what Lemonade Mouth is?”

“You watch her every day after school Lissy, you could show it to her anytime you want,” Hestia replied from the drivers seat, purposely using the nickname her cousin hated.

Alice glared at her and looked for backup in her significant others sitting next to her, but they were both asleep, Emmeline using Frank’s shoulder as a pillow. “What is the point in dating two people when they are both asleep when you need them?”

Hestia rolled her eyes, and glanced back at her cousin, “You love them.”

Alice looked at them sleeping again, and smiled, “Yeah, I do,” but then her tone changed quickly, “but that doesn’t mean they shouldn’t be backing me up right now.”

“I wanna be missed like every night, I wanna be kissed like it's the last time, say you can't eat, can't sleep, can't breathe without me, I wanna be held, fragile like glass, ‘cause I've never felt nothing like that, say you can't walk, can't talk, go on without me…”

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Mary stepped out of the car, breathing in the fresh air, which was thankfully not as tense as the air in the car, where her best friend almost revealed her not so great past with relationships. She stretched out her arms and cracked the joints of her back - the air wasn’t the only thing that was tense.

Sirius got out of the car and immediately tried to apologize to Mary. “I’m really sorry, Mary, it just slipped out, I shouldn’t have said –”. Mary cut them off again with a cold glare, and headed towards the house. Gin followed behind her, walking with the cane again.

Sirius just stood there, blinking back tears.

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After Mary got into the house, she set up Gwenog in her room, knowing that it was the cleanest of all the bedrooms due to obvious reasons. She gave Frank, Emmeline, Alice, and Hestia (the former two looked like they had just woken up) a tour of the house, and finally she collapsed on the couch next to Gin with a huge bag of crisps (that she really didn’t want to share).

She didn’t see Sirius, which meant they were probably in their room.

“I’m sorry that I left you sitting here alone,” Mary said, with an almost convincing forced smile. Gin smiled at her in return, and she could see he looked worried… or anxious. “I’m also sorry for what happened in your car too. Sometimes Si doesn’t know when to shut up.”

“You can tell me about it, you know,” Gin replied, looking at her, “I’m not easily scared off. I have some not so great exes as well.” He wasn’t planning on sharing this with her tonight, but he felt like she needed a push to open up about whatever Sirius had been talking about. “When I told my ex about me being trans, he wasn’t too happy. He was driving, and while he was scolding me for not telling him before, for tricking or whatever… he drove off the side of the road. We hit a tree. He walked away with some bruised ribs, but I ended up with old Janie here because of the injuries to my spine and legs,” Gin said, lifting his cane when he said Janie.

“You named your cane Janie,” Mary asked, chuckling a little bit before continuing, “Sorry, that’s not the point at all, I know. That’s horrible though. I can’t believe he reacted so badly.” Gin smiled softly at her when she put her hand over his, “I’m so sorry that happened to you.”

“Well, I’ve told you my bad ex story, would you be willing to tell me yours,” Gin asked, full of hope.

Mary took a long breath before starting, “Peter was Sirius’s friend before mine. They had been friends since they were eleven. I met Sirius around sixteen, back when they were dating Marlene, and they introduced me to Peter. And Peter was nice – he didn’t mind me being trans or queer. But when we started dating, he got a little aggressive. It was nothing bad, not really, just him grabbing my arm a lot, sometimes leaving bruises. But when I confronted him about him outing Sirius and Marlene, he gave me a black eye. When Sirius found out, they threatened Peter, said if he ever came near any of us again, they would call up their uncle and make sure Peter was charged with harassment.” Mary was rubbing her wrists throughout the story, still feeling his hands on her years later.

Gin pulled Mary into a hug and whispered, “I’ll never do anything like that to you. Or anyone.”

Mary smiled at him, setting the bag of crisps down and began leaning into the hug.

Gin continued when they pulled apart, “You need to talk to Sirius though, I can tell they’re sorry.”

Mary nodded, thanked him, and went off to find Sirius.

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Sirius was lying in their bed, waiting for Remus to get home. They were sick to their stomach, and felt like they had ruined Mary’s chance with the fanboy – who from the little interaction they had, seemed like a great guy for her. Better than Peter.

Sirius still felt guilty about that.

They heard a knock at the door, and then it opening. They turned in their bed to see Mary, anxiously smiling at him and looking at them as if she wanted to know if she could come in. They sat up, and gestured for her to come in. Mary joined them on the bed.

Sirius turned to her and said, “I really am sorry. About everything. From introducing you to Peter at all to bringing it up tonight.” Mary smiled and shook her head at them.

“You have nothing to be sorry about, Si,” she said, “I however should apologize for getting so mad at you.” She pulled them closer to her, falling back on the bed. She then sighed and asked, “How badly do I want to take a shower now that I’m on your bed?”

Sirius thought for a moment and said, “Very badly, you want to take a shower very badly.”

They both laughed as Mary sat up and brushed off her clothes.

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Once everyone else got home, the afterparty began and of course, Marlene was the first to go up for karaoke. “I read the signs, I got all my stars aligned, my amulets, my charms, I set all my false alarms, so I’ll be someone who be forgotten, I’ve got a question and you’ve got an answer…”

Dorcas was sitting on the couch next to Alice, and both were drinking a fruity alcohol that neither could remember the name of at this point, and Alice said, “She sounds exactly like St. Vincent, she even gives off the same vibes.”

“I do a dance to make the rain come, smile to keep the sky from falling down down down down, collect the love that I've been given, build a nest for us to sleep in here, you know it's real…” Dorcas’s mind raced, thinking about what Alice was saying and what album this song was from, and whispered, “Annie Clark…”

“What,” Alice asked, turning towards Dorcas.

“Annie Clark. That’s St. Vincent’s real name,” Dorcas said, her mind still racing. She opened the notes app in her phone and began writing as many of her thoughts down as she could.

“I know, isn’t that the softest name for a rock star ever,” Alice said, her eyes wide as she saw some of the words on Dorcas’s phone. She couldn’t put it all together but she was excited nevertheless.

“I check my palms, the cracks in the sidewalk, my visions and my dreams, I cross all my fingers, that you'll be someone that won't be forgotten, what was your question, I've got the answer…”

Dorcas looked up, only having eyes for Marlene, and finally replied, “Yeah, yeah it is.”

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Regulus went up to bed with Lily around 2 AM and shortly after, James and Gin were both on the couch drinking a mixture of the alcohols that were in the kitchen and trying to convince Mary to sing. Sirius took a break from making out with Remus in a chair to encourage them and that was when Mary finally realized she had lost the battle.

Mary went to the front of the room and said, “I don’t know a whole lot of songs but here’s one that I’ve listened to hundreds of times and memorized.” She took a breath. “She's got me going crazy, talking to the, talking to the moon. adrenaline starts to overtake me when she. walks into the, walks into the room, at first I wasn't sure of it, then I was just ok with it, I cannot get enough of it. now I love it.” Sirius, James, and Gin cheered.

Mary looked at Gin when she sung the lyrics, “He shows me things I can't see, I like this feeling, like this feeling free, I feel no shame, not guilty, no I just feel more, I just feel more me…”

She felt so free while singing, though that could be the weed she and Sirius had broke out once Lily went upstairs, the smell of which they would have to clear up with Febreeze before they went to bed.

When she was done, she flopped down on the couch and said, “I’m sleeping here, I guess.”

“Same,” said James, “but I can sleep on the floor,” he continued, looking at Gin.

“Yeah, we’re going to bed,” Remus said, dragging Sirius upstairs.

“Be quiet,” Mary said to them, “there is a twelve-year-old sleeping in my room and I do not want her traumatized because of how loud you guys are.”

“We’ll just use the gags,” Remus said, clearly drunk.

Mary shivered, acting disgusted, before curling up against the couch, ready to fall asleep, “I did not need to know that.” James and Gin laughed.

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Lily and Regulus woke up around nine the next morning and began making cheese toasties for all the inhabitants of the house, knowing that it was at least James’s favorite hangover food. Regulus pulled out the jumbo pack of Ribena juice boxes out of the fridge, setting it on the counter.

“It’s time to wake them up,” he said, his eyes wide. Hungover twenty-year-olds were scary.

“Should we use the tuba or just the cymbals,” Lily asked evilly.

Fic Playlist

Lying is the Most Fun a Girl Can Have Without Taking Her Clothes Off by Panic! At the Disco

Wild Things by Alessia Cara

Too Good at Goodbyes by Sam Smith

Wanna Be Missed by Hayley Kiyoko

All My Stars Aligned by St. Vincent

Not a Phase by Jessie Paege ft. Lucy & La Mer

[junksprungs]

I was tagged by @nikonothere and @i-ndil-cuimhne-ar-daniel to put my music on shuffle and put down the first 10 without skipping. This is gonna be literally every song in my library so its gonna make me looks like an insane person

1. Catacomb kids by Aesop Rock. Good start,if you think you dont like rap try listening to this guy

2. Engel by Rammstein. A classic,cant not sing this one when it comes on in the car. Im not fluent in german yet but i do know all the lyrics to this one

3. Two coffins by Against Me! This band literally was my whole existence for a few months after i came out as trans because of the album this is off of,transgender dysphoria blues

4. Die,die my darling by The Misfits. I associate all of their music with halloween because we always play this ong at the haunted house i work at

5. The suspender man by Steam Powered Giraffe. This band was the first fandom i was in when i joined tumblr back in 2012. Unfortunately im stuck here now but spg is still fantastic

6. Genau by KMFDM. im ashamed to say i found this band through true crime blogs but they slap and im pretty sure this song was what made me want to learn german

7. Weisses Fleisch by Rammstein. I have almost all of their songs in my library so im surprised they didnt show up more here. This song is the basis for my url.

8. Blood red roses by storm weather shanty choir. Told you this would make me look weird. This is just a sea shanty...sometimes i wanna feel like a pirate alright

9. Fick ihn doch by Alligatoah. This song just slaps,i dont understand 90% of it but im glad my friend Lina showed me this artist

10. Down at mcdonaldz by Electric Six. This one is just dumb,all their songs are weird and idk why i keep listening to them

Im gonna tag @fallen-to-madness , @till-hammer , @thewrongbookshop and anyone who sees this and wants a reason to do it

[god--baby]

jealousy ch 2: Alex (nsfw)

patrick hockstetter x henry bowers

part one

previously on: after Patrick almost fucks a girl at a party, he and Henry fuck around. 

summary: Henry has a conversation with his pigs. then, he calls up a girl he once fucked and asks her to a bonfire. they go, they fuck, and then Henry drives everyone home. 

word count: 3942

tag list: @heckstetter @tonguepopperr @bitchy-bowers @frostwolfie2936 @daddywise-issues

The next day, Henry spent the entire day at home alone. Well, as alone as he could be with Butch there half the time.

But he didn’t want to hang out with the guys. He didn’t want to see Patrick.

He hadn’t gotten lucky. He hadn’t blacked out and forgotten it.

Sometimes, when he wasn’t forcing himself not to think about it, he could still feel the weight of Patrick’s dick in his mouth. And that was not something he wanted to remember.

Butch left for a late shift after dinner, and Henry went out to the pigpen to see Bip and Bop. He brought his cigarettes and a lighter, and sat on the fence, looking down at his pets, chain smoking.

He got about three cigarettes in before he remembered the last time he’d chain smoked, just last night, after… whatever it was he did with Patrick.

It wasn’t that he didn’t know what he did — he remembered it like it was still happening. It was that he didn’t know what to call it. Did they fuck? Just plain fuck around? Did it matter? Could he convince Patrick to forget about it?

It did matter. And no, if he knew Patrick only half as well as he knew him, Patrick wouldn’t let go. He’d gotten a chance to sink his teeth in, and now he wasn’t going to let go.

Henry put his cigarette out and tucked the butt back into the pack so neither Bip nor Bop could get a hold of it. Bip snuffled at where his boot was propped up on part of the fence, and Bop laid down.

“I did something stupid, you guys,” he said to them. “Real fucking stupid.”

Bip snorted.

“Hey, shut up,” Henry said, then he felt silly. It had been a long time since he had a conversation with his pigs, but he needed them right now. “I don’t always do stupid shit, just sometimes.”

Bop turned his head to better look at Henry, and Henry imagined him looking at him with something like pity.

“I — I fucked around with Patrick. I sucked his dick,” he said, voice hushed.

Neither Bip nor Bop did anything for a long moment. Then, Bop stood up and started snuffling at Henry’s other boot. He felt like he had both their attentions, now.

“I didn’t really want to. ‘Cept maybe I did? I don’t do shit I don’t wanna do, and I did that.” He paused, swallowing hard, whispering, “I can still taste him.”

Bip let out a grunt and Bop mimicked him. Henry smiled.

“It wasn’t so bad, I guess. I wish — I wish it hadn’t happened. But it wasn’t so bad. He sure can suck a dick, I’ll tell you that. Fucking fag. Does it all the time. You know he tells me that shit?”

Bop grunted again.

“I know. I know a lot more about a lotta guys than I wanna know, ‘cause of Patrick. But that’s just Pat, I guess.”

Bip nudged his foot. Henry reached into the bag hanging off the fence beside him and drew out a handful of plain popcorn, holding it out for Bip to munch on. He smiled as they both snuffled at his hand, going at it like there was nothing they’d rather do.

“I don’t know what to do, now, though,” he said. “I don’t know what to do.”

They chewed, looking up at him.

“I don’t know, guys. Like, do I ignore him? What if he wants to do it again? Do I… do I go along with it? And does… does it make me gay to do this shit?”

They continued chewing.

Henry sighed. “You guys don’t even know what gay is. You’re just pigs. Unless… you could be gay pigs, I guess… we never did get you guys a lady friend. Just didn’t want to deal with piglets, you know. Hell, maybe you guys are gay, and I just don’t know ‘cause I don’t speak pig.”

Bip bumped Bop with his shoulder, closing his eyes for a second.

“Huh. Well, thanks for listening. I’m gonna go get drunk.”

He reached down and gave them another handful of popcorn before he hopped off the fence and walked back into the house.

He did get drunk, on a bottle of cheap whiskey he’d been hiding under his bed for a rainy day. The storm was all inside his head, but the whiskey… well, it helped. A little. Made some parts of it louder, but at least the taste of the alcohol was heavier than the memory of Patrick’s dick.

He jerked off that night, trying to think about the last real tail he got, some snarky girl from Etna, but that quickly turned into Patrick. It wasn’t his fault — the girl kinda looked like him. Shortish dark hair and eyes that take no shit without laughing in its face. And that smile — kinda scary, like she was begging the world to try something so she could fuck it up.

That’s who he should have been fucking around with. Not Patrick.

Sure, she looked like him. But she wasn’t him.

At least she was a girl.

The next morning, he dug around for her number, trying to remember her name. He found it, written in red permanent marker on a napkin, under her name.

Alex.

Alex. Nice.

He called.

“Gray residence,” said a tired-sounding lady. “Who is this?”

“Uh, my name’s Henry, ma’am. I’m calling for Alex?”

“Huh. Alex!” she shouted, pulling the phone away from her mouth.

“What?” came a voice that sounded far away.

“Some boy’s on the line for you,” said Mrs. Gray.

“Fine,” huffed who he assumed was Alex. The phone got shuffled around. Then: “Hey, Tony.”

“Who the hell,” he said, “is Tony?”

“Sorry, who’s this?”

“Henry Bowers,” he said.

“Who?”

“We met at a party. I’m from Derry. Bet you a dollar you couldn’t shotgun a beer in four seconds. You won.”

“Oh,” she said, and he could hear her smiling. “That’s your name. I had forgotten.”

“Yeah,” he said, smiling too, though he was a little taken aback that she’d forgotten his name. Even though he had forgotten hers, too.

“So, what’s up?” she asked. She was chewing gum. He could hear it popping.

“There’s this bonfire tonight. Wanna go?”

“What kinda bonfire?”

“The drinking kind.”

“Sounds good.”

“Should I swing by with the guys, or?”

“No, I gotta car. No sweat, just tell me where it is and I’ll show.”

He told her, and they talked for another minute before saying goodbye.

Good. So he had a little bit of ass lined up for the night. Hopefully her pussy would take his mind off Patrick’s dick. Hopefully.

He finished his chores and took a shower, making faces in the mirror while he dried his hair off. It was always so fucking fluffy and everywhere when it was wet.

When the guys showed up, he walked out to the car, pointing from the front seat to the back so Vic would get the message and move.

“Hey, Henry,” Patrick practically sang.

Henry grunted but didn’t say anything.

“How was yesterday?” Patrick asked. “We missed you.”

Henry snorted and got in the front. “It was fine,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “I called up that chick who knows how to shotgun a beer — Belch, you remember, tight little piece of ass with black hair? Anyway, I invited her out to the fire.”

Belch grinned, his eyes crinkling.

“Jesus,” said Vic. “How long’s it been since you got laid?”

Henry made the great mistake of looking over his shoulder at the back seat and got an eyeful of Patrick’s wicked smile. He looked away from him to Vic, grinning.

“A week,” he said. “Fucking long week. What about you, princess?”

Vic winked.

“What was his name again? The guy whose dick you sucked at the party?” Patrick asked.

Henry wasn’t dumb. He knew exactly who those questions were directed at, and it wasn’t Vic.

“James,” Vic said. “More of a grower than a shower.”

Belch and Henry groaned, Henry reaching back to swat at Vic’s knee.

“We don’t need to know that shit, Vicky,” Henry said.

“Yeah, yeah. Here’s a question — how come you guys can talk about dripping wet pussy but I can’t talk about the size of a guy’s dick?”

“You can talk about pussy, too, Vic,” said Patrick, chewing on one of his fingertips. “You just gotta get some first.”

“That’s not what I asked,” Vic shot back. “Besides, if I wanted pussy right now, I could get it. I’m just having so much fun with guys who are discovering dick for the first time.”

Henry felt his ears heat up.

“Okay,” he said. “Okay, I’m done with this.”

And then he reached over and turned the music up to blaring.

They arrived at the bonfire half an hour later, piling out of the car and lighting up cigarettes. Everyone except Belch smoked at parties — well, kinda. He preferred weed to smokes, and right now he was wondering out loud if there would be someone willing to share.

There always was. No one said no to them.

He and Vic wandered off into the crowd, joking and pushing each other every few steps. Suddenly, Henry was very alone with Patrick, something he didn’t want to be, not even in the slightest.

“Henry,” Patrick said in that sing-song way he had. He walked around so that he was in front of Henry, and Henry pushed his back up against the Trans Am, blocked in as Patrick put his hands on either side of Henry’s shoulders.

“What do you want, Hockstetter?” Henry snapped, looking away from him.

“How ‘bout a repeat performance before that sweet little girl shows up, hm?” Patrick asked. “What, did you think I’d just forget about that?”

“I fucking know you,” Henry said. Reminding him, not that he really needed to. Patrick knew. Patrick wasn’t dumb.

“Yeah, you do,” Patrick said.

Then he reached in and dragged one of his thumbs down Henry’s bottom lip, pulling it down.

“I’m not just gonna let go of that pretty little mouth, baby,” he said.

“Too fucking bad,” Henry barked as a car pulled up next to them. He pushed Patrick away as hard as he could, making him stumble away, grinning. “I said it was a one-time thing. I meant it.”

Out of the car climbed Alex, her hair a little more neat than Henry remembered, her skirt as daringly short as last time, her boots as tall. God. He’d only seen her once before, but she was a damn sight for sore eyes.

“Henry,” she said, grinning up at him.

“Alex,” he said.

“Who’s your friend?” she asked, eyes skipping over to Patrick for just the shortest moment, nothing more than a heartbeat.

“That’s Patrick. He’s an asshole.”

“Oh, I didn’t know he was your best friend,” she said, laughing.

In spite of himself, he laughed, too.

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s get you a drink,” he said, putting an arm around her and guiding her away from the cars, closer to the fire and the small grouping crowds of people. He heard Patrick suck his teeth.

Half an hour later, and Alex was gloriously drunk, swaying in Henry’s arms. She was short enough that he could put his chin on top of her head, and he did, holding her.

She turned in his arms.

“Guess what?” she asked.

“Mm. What?”

“Something new,” she said.

Then she stuck her tongue out. There was a bar through it, two balls on either end.

“Well, fuck,” he said.

“Isn’t that just the prettiest thing you ever saw?” she asked.

“Sure, baby. Wonder how it’d feel on my dick.”

She grinned and played with her tongue ring, making it scrape along her bottom teeth.

“You don’t even have to wait to find out,” she said.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. C’mon.”

She took him by the hand and pulled him away from the fire, out into the darkness by the cars. She found hers and pushed him up against it, pulling him down for a hard kiss. He was surprised that the tongue ring didn’t really feel like anything while kissing. Just something a little bit extra.

He slipped a hand down to her ass and grabbed it, pushing her skirt up so he could really get at her. She was probably wearing a thong, because there was more skin than fabric under his hand.

She got to her knees, undoing his pants and pulling out his dick before he could really think about it. Then — she licked a thick stripe up the shaft, and he closed his eyes, sighing, as the ball of her tongue ring slid over him.

“You like that, babe?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he said. A little shot. A little breathless.

She giggled and went right back at it, taking him into her mouth, licking at the slit, swirling her tongue and that little ball around the head before taking him further into her mouth. Into her throat, making her choke just a little bit.

He swallowed, suddenly remembering Patrick. How he didn’t choke. Not even a little bit.

He shook his head, then looked down at her. Her eyes were closed. Good.

He put a hand in her hair, gently pulling her on and off him. Then, he pulled her fully off. She pouted up at him.

“What?” she asked. “Do you not like it?”

He pulled her up by her hair and she let out a little whine, scrambling to her feet.

“Love it,” he said. “But I’m gonna fuck you now, okay, baby?”

He shouldn’t have said that. He should have just called her by her name.

When he heard baby, in his head echoed Patrick’s voice.

He pulled her in for a kiss, then turned them around until her back was pressed to the car. Still kissing her, he reached up under her skirt and pulled her panties down. She stepped out of them and bent down to pick them up. Then, she tucked them into his back pocket.

“For safe keeping,” she said.

“Mm.”

He pulled a condom out of his front pocket and rolled it on as she hitched her skirt up. He swiped two fingers over her cunt, then pushed in. She sighed, eyes fluttering closed. She slipped one leg up around his waist, and he pulled the other one up to match it, letting the car hold her up, fucking into her.

In a few minutes, he was coming. He pulled out of her and took the condom off, tying it before throwing it out further into the darkness. Then, he got to his knees and started eating her out, pushing his tongue into her, licking at her clit, pushing two fingers in and curling them up, pumping hard and fast.

It didn’t take her long to come, and when she did, she sunk to her knees in front of him with a whine, pulling his fingers into her mouth.

“Fuck, baby,” she said. “Holy fuck.��

He huffed out a laugh.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she said, putting her forehead on his shoulder. “Gimme a minute.”

He grinned.

“Okay,” he said, putting a hand in her hair.

Finally, she took a big breath and kissed him, just a little soft thing. He kissed her back, a little more insistent, and she sighed.

She stood up, dusting dead grass off her knees, and pulled him to his feet. He tucked himself back into his pants. She started to walk away, and he caught her by the shoulder.

“Your panties,” he said.

“Keep ‘em,” she laughed. “You earned ‘em.”

He grinned.

“Okay.”

“Fuck, I gotta sober up,” she said.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I gotta — I gotta go home. Eventually.”

“Well, okay,” he said, taking her by the hand and pulling her toward the fire. “Let’s get you some water.”

An hour later, with Alex gone, he was ready to leave. He wandered around, looking for the guys. He found Vic and Belch sitting with a group of stoners, some baby-faced boy in Vic’s lap, all of them absolutely high.

“Jesus,” he said. “You guys are gone, aren’t you?”

The girl sitting next to Belch laughed, high-pitched and kinda annoying, putting her hand on Belch’s knee.

“Yeah,” Belch said slowly. “How was… what was her name?”

“Alex?”

“Hey, that’s my name,” said the boy on Vic’s lap.

Henry rolled his eyes.

“I’m gonna be honest, babe,” said Vic to the boy. “I had forgotten your name.”

“That’s okay,” the boy said, Alex said, pressing a kiss to Vic’s forehead. “You can call me whatever you want.”

“Alex was good,” Henry said, over the chuckles and giggles the whole group let out. “But I’m ready to go. Want me to drive?”

“Fuck, yeah, you better,” Belch said, standing.

The girl beside him started pouting, and he ran a hand over her hair, making her brighten up.

“Vic,” Henry barked. “C’mon.”

It was Vic’s turn to pout. But still, he pushed the boy Alex off his lap and stood.

“Where’s Hockstetter?” Henry asked.

“Looking for you,” Belch said slowly.

“Great,” Henry said.

All three of them started walking around, looking for Patrick. Patrick, who seemed to not want to be found. Finally, they gave up and walked out towards the Trans Am, lighting up cigarettes as they went. When they got there, the car was gently rocking.

“Found him,” Vic said, chuckling.

“Yay,” Henry snarked.

Just what he needed. To sit around waiting while Patrick got laid not two feet away from him.

They all heard a girl’s loud moan, and then the car stopped moving.

In a minute, both Patrick and the as yet nameless girl scrambled out of the car. The girl seemed exhausted. Patrick, of course, was grinning.

The girl was blonde. Her hair, short and scruffy. She wore a short dress that she pulled down in front, Patrick’s hand on her ass in the back. Her nose was familiar for a moment, and then it hit close to home.

Somehow, Patrick found the one girl who looked just like Henry.

Just like Henry’d fucked a girl who looked just like him.

“Get your hand off my ass and introduce me to your friends,” the girl said to Patrick.

Patrick kept his hand on her ass as he said, “guys, this is Hailey. Hailey, these are the guys.”

Not a proper introduction. She must not be sticking around.

“Now, go,” Patrick said. “They want to leave, and I’m going with them.”

She huffed, and left, giving Patrick a tight smile over her shoulder. He gave her a short wave, waiting until she looked away to roll his eyes.

“Now, that,” he said, “is a one-time thing.”

Henry knew exactly what that meant. It was for him. Because of course it was.

“What, no good?” Belch asked.

“Oh, she was fine,” Patrick said, making a dismissive hand gesture. “But not good enough to keep around.”

“Mm,” said Vic. “That’s a shame. She’s cute.”

Henry rolled his eyes.

“Let’s go. I’m driving,” he said.

“What?” Patrick asked.

“Belch and Vic got too high. I’m driving,” Henry said.

They all piled into the car, Belch and Vic sitting in the back. Much as it made Henry’s stomach tight to have Patrick up front with him, he couldn’t say anything about it.

Ten minutes into the drive home, and Belch and Vic were both asleep.

“Aw, look at that,” Patrick said, grinning. “The kids are all tuckered out.”

Henry snorted but didn’t say anything.

Then, Patrick put his hand on Henry’s knee. Henry pushed it off, and Patrick just did it again. Sighing, Henry let him. He was tired, didn’t feel like fighting every little thing.

“You know,” Patrick said, rubbing a little circle over Henry’s thigh with his thumb, “I could suck your dick right now, and they’d never know.”

“Patrick,” Henry hissed. “No.”

Patrick leaned in and nipped at Henry’s earlobe, then whispered in his ear.

“Fucking some little girl who looks just like me. Like I wouldn’t notice.”

“I didn’t fuck her ‘cause she looks like you, asshole. I fucked her ‘cause I like her. She’s cool.”

“Mm hm. Doesn’t take away the fact that she looks just like me.”

Henrys sighed and took a hand off the wheel to push Patrick away.

“What about Hailey or whatever her name was?” Henry spat. “What about her, huh? Talk about someone looking just like someone else.”

“Yeah, that was the plan. If I can’t have you, I wanted the next best thing. But she didn’t suck a dick like you, sweetheart.”

“I didn’t suck your dick, asshole. You fucked my fucking face,” Henry hissed, keeping his voice down even though he wanted to yell.

“Mm. And you did good. Much better than her.”

Henry sighed. Patrick got in his space again, licking at his neck, pressing little kisses to it. Unwanted, a shiver traveled through Henry’s body.

They got back to Derry without anything real or bad happening. Henry woke the guys up, dropped off Belch and then Vic, then headed to Patrick’s place, parking at the curb, wishing he’d had the good sense to drop Patrick off first.

Patrick unbuckled himself and then climbed into Henry’s lap. Henry sighed, looking away from him.

“Look at me,” Patrick barked. “Look at me right now.”

Henry’s eyes stayed to the side until Patrick grabbed his chin and pulled it to the front, forcing him to look at him. Henry swallowed, seeing the hungry look in Patrick’s eyes.

“What do you want?” he said, voice tired, a little too soft.

“You,” Patrick said. “Always you.”

Then he leaned in and kissed Henry. Henry willed himself to not respond, to just sit there and let it happen.

“Jesus,” said Patrick, pulling back. “You really think you don’t want this, don’t you?”

“I don’t want you, Patrick,” Henry said, shaking his head. He swallowed. “I don’t want you.”

Patrick ground down on his lap, against him, and Henry felt himself getting hard. His dick was a fucking traitor.

“Your dick says you do, baby,” Patrick said.

“Yeah, well, it doesn’t know what I’m thinking. I want you to leave.”

“No, you don’t,” Patrick said.

“Yeah, I do.”

Patrick kissed him again, harder this time, one hand going down to drag fingernails over Henry’s bulge. The little vibrations of the nails over the denim went straight to his fucking stomach, making it tight.

“What do I have to do to make you leave?” Henry said when the kiss had ended.

“Just kiss me. Once. Like you fucking mean it.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it, baby.”

“I’m not your baby, Hockstetter.”

“You are. You just don’t know it, yet.”

Henry sighed and pulled Patrick into a hard kiss, holding him by the sides of his face, licking into his mouth, biting at his bottom lip. Patrick sighed into it, relaxing, hands going to pull at Henry’s hair. He pulled, hard, and unwanted, a moan came out of Henry’s throat.

“That’s it, baby, moan for me,” Patrick said, lips brushing Henry’s.

“You got your kiss,” Henry said. “Now, leave.”

“Aw, c’mon,” said Patrick. “Don’t you wanna see where this will go?”

“Not really,” Henry said, pushing Patrick off his lap. “Go.”

Patrick grinned and pulled Henry’s hair again, his thumb making little circles on the side of Henry’s neck. Then, he leaned in and pressed a short kiss to Henry’s lips, and got out of the car, walking to his door.

Without waiting to see if he made it inside, Henry drove away.

[thebraingremlinsaremad]

Today was truly an odd and eventful day in the retail market; you'll see why in a moment.

In the meantime, let's cut to the intro.

DAILY BLOG #11, AUGUST 18, 2021

So today started out like any other day: with me being way too tired for no reason and refusing to get out of bed on time as a result.

I didn't get a shower until like 10:00, but it was fine. I got to work at like 11:10, so 20 minutes early.

I ate peanut butter on toast for breakfast, as per usual.

I got to work and started out with hanging clothes, my boss begging me to clock in early so I could work with the people from HQ instead of her.

Tbh they are kinda annoying; they price things way higher than what we put them, and they don't organize the clothes when they hang them, making it a total pain in the ass to put the clothes out for sale.

So yeah, I was up there hanging clothes for a bit in the morning, but it is wasn't too long before people came in with some pretty massive collections of merchandise.

One person spent $150 on like a ton of random stuff, several other people spent like $75-$100 on clothes, and one person bought a TV for $40, and tried to return it because they thought it wasn't working, but then ended up buying a sectional for $175 in addition.

We did actually end up trading them TVs, which they then called and said wasn't working either, even though we tested it right in front of them, and asked for a refund. We didn't give it to them, especially seeing as the store has an "all sales are final" policy, which is printed in bold on all of our receipts.

It's pretty safe to say that we made the goal for the day, however; I'm pretty sure we actually passed it by over $400.

Whenever we reach the goal for a month, we get $15 to spend, which is actually pretty sweet seeing as I buy a bunch of stuff there xD. They have a rewards system where you get store credit based on how much you spend, and I have over $11 in store credit from that. That's basically 4 free VCRs.

I'ma go get more rice xD.

Do me a favor and imagine this like a song

I am

Cooking rice

In a microwave

Tonight

It's got peppers,

Pineapple

And some salt,

Alright

I'm nuking it

For a

Long,

Long time

So it's nice and

Hot

At

Feeding time

Oh shit

I did a really

Stupid

Rhyme

I tried to rhyme

The word

Time

With time

This is the

End of my song

Tonight

Thank you so much. I really enjoyed writing that while I'm waiting for my rice to get hot.

While we're waiting, I can talk about the day a bit more.

As I got there early, I had a bit of time to try on some clothes I found the day before.

It was a dress, a pair of pants, and a shirt for 49¢ a piece. I bought the pants and the shirt.

I ALSO picked up a PlayStation 2 and Wii (that I actually mentioned yesterday but didn't actually buy until today.)

Those were a bit of a hassle to get out of the store because it was POURING LIKE MAD and I didn't wanna get em wet.

Let's see if it's not raining enough to actually get em out of my car now.

Yup.

I'ma grab em.

Brb ladies.

I actually have a saying that helps me figure out which way it is to lock my car and which way it is to unlock it.

You gotta push the trigger forward to open it, and push it back to lock it.

"Let the people out of the FRONT"

"Lock the children in the BACK"

Kinda morbid, but it TOTALLY works.

Let's check the rice.

Here's the box of stuff I grabbed for $44 (not including the shirt and pants in the photo) with my rice casually to the left.

The rice is hot.

I'ma eat some.

Brb.

The consensus:

Rice is good.

I also have a cup of watered down, expired root Bepis with some sweet n low. Delicious shit.

I'm also watching memes. Delicious memes.

I'm getting sidetracked.

Uhm, what else happened at work.

Lemme think.

OOO, OKAY, THIS IS A GOOD ONE.

This dude literally walked in, looking all cracked up, asking for us to direct him towards the belts because he needed one.

This dude was aaaaallllll over the fucking place.

OH BTW I GOT TO THROW THAT TV OUT BECAUSE THE DVD PLAYER ON IT STOPPED WORKING.

I slammed it into the dumpster as hard as I could and the screen didn't even break. Disappointing.

That shit was HEAVY

Anyway, back to the weird dude. He picked up a belt and a scarf, and had the belt on, unbeknownst to my boss. He says he has to go out to his car to get money, and after he leaves I walk up to my boss like, "He has a belt on."

"He's not coming back."

Dude goes out and looks inside one of my coworker's car, and then looks around in his van for like 5 minutes and comes back in with nothing. He's like "Can I pay you in food stamps?"

"No, it has to be cash or card."

"Alright, I have some money in my car, let me go get it."

"Okay, but leave the belt here."

Then that went on for a bit until he takes the belt off and throws his pants down.

"I'm going to have to ask you leave."

Then there was a whole argument about how he's a patron just like everyone else, and took his good old time getting out of the store.

B A N

Meanwhile, a bit before that actually, I was on lunch break at FIVE FUCKING FIFTEEN and I was trying on a shirt with the trans colors 💙💗🤍💗💙 and all of a sudden, something smelled like LITERAL SHIT. I MEAN LITERAL SHIT.

The other coworker of mine eventually came out, revealing that he had a bottle of liquid ass and had been pranking everyone with it for weeks.

At one point, before our key holder quit, he had been spraying it in the Manager's office. I TOTALLY tracked it down to him, but I thought he actually shit himself xD.

I mean, apart from that, there's nothing else that really happened. Here's some music I listened to today:

Green Day

The All-American Rejects

That's it.

Very small selection xD.

I generally listen to albums though, so that's why. I don't shuffle music much.

Driving home was kinda dangerous because of the rain, but I got home.

AND THAT BRINGS US HERE

With me watching memes

Eating rice

And drinking a mixture of root beer, expired diet Pepsi, and sweet n low.

There's actually some stuff that goes on after I write my blogs for the day, and there probably will be tonight, but I generally just make a separate post for that stuff if I feel like it.

I'ma microwave my rice some more.

Anyway, I think I'm done now lol.

Thanks for reading darlings.

HAVE A GOOD NIGHT AND BE GOOD PEOPLE.

-Leonna

[speaking-gem]

I remember seeing a journal prompt one time to describe what my perfect day looked like. I struggled to imagine what this would be, as I truly didn’t have a clue what that was. Fast forward to today and I can honestly say that this was the closest thing to perfect that I’ve felt.. in a very long time.

I woke up at 6am and did a mini meditation, allowing my thoughts to flow back and forth. I made a smoothie and headed out to meet a friend at a coffee shop to get in some fuel before our little adventure. 

Let me tell you a little something about myself, I’m a city girl.. who hates highway driving. I live in Vancouver so there really is no need for me to drive on highways and I avoid them as much as possible. Given that my car is great for longer drives than my friend’s, I was designated to take us to our destination. In order to get to our place of haven we had to take Trans Canada Highway. Palms clammy, heart palpitations at a high, I got ready to merge and just like that we cruised over the city limit speed that I’m used to. The tension eased and I found myself enjoying the long drive. Music ablaze, singing Whitney’s “I Have Nothing” at the top of our lungs, I pushed through my discomfort and found that I am more than capable of conquering my fears. Check mark.

We arrived to our said spot and it was absolutely beautiful. The sound of glacier waters cascading down a pool of rocks dissipated any of my problems, troubled thoughts, and inhibitions away. Peace filled every part of my body, as I explored Mother Nature and her alluring presence. I craved this pace, I craved this tranquility, I craved being free. I took my chance at being as close to the water as possible. I know I’m an air sign, but there’s something about being close to water, listening to waves crash that just puts me in absolute ease. My friend and I caught up, we laughed, we listened to music, we danced around, as people passed us, giving us amused looks, but to me, in that very moment, all that existed was just earth and us. It was such a transformative experience.

After I drove her back home, I decided to get another smoothie and grocery shop (I’m making pizza tonight, haha). Doing errands on my own has always been a solace activity of mine that I try to practice at least once a week. Anyway, I was on my way home, the sun beaming in my face and just as I was edging close to my apartment’s parkade, Janet Jackson’s “Escapade” came on, I put my sunglasses back on and gunned passed the parkade entrance with no destination in mind. I just mindlessly drove for a bit, thinking after this song I’ll head home, and then Janet Jackson’s “Alright” came on and I couldn’t help but cheese, as I turned on a street and kept going. If you hadn’t figured out by now I was listening to my Janet Jackson playlist on shuffle and the bangers just kept coming one right after the other. Before I knew it, shuffle had landed on “Someone To Call My Lover” and I found myself entering the cemetery. 

This is the very first time I’ve ever visited my dad’s gravesite alone, with no reason, no occasion to celebrate. Let me reiterate how gorgeous of a day it is today. I felt warm, as I walked over to him. I sat there in silence for a bit, not knowing what to say. It’s a bit awkward to speak knowing full well you won’t get a response back. But after a few moments of stillness and channeling a big sigh - just like that, I went off. I told my dad about my thoughts as of lately. We talked about my kid half-sister. My relationships with people. I asked for support as I try to navigate my way through life and a gentle breeze grazed my cheek. I’m not one to really believe that spirits linger or that there is an afterlife of some sort, but I took that breeze as a sign that he was there, letting me know, as he always does, that he’s got me. 

The drive home was a bit somber. I cried both sad and happy tears. 

Now that I’m home now, I’m a little exhausted from my early day festivities, but I do have the energy at the moment to document this. I want to remember this day so vividly. I want to relive it every day. I know I have the choice to. So let this be a reminder, Joyce, that you can experience happiness because you felt an abundance of it today. You will get through whatever you need to get through. The right people will show up for you and be around even when shit gets tough, whether that is spiritually or in the physical. However, most importantly, you need to show up for yourself. Create that happy place so that these perfect days outnumber the normal ones.

Choose courage over comfort.

xx

[tinylionprototypes]

Researching, The Past, & Glitter Kittens

I grew up researching. Basically everything I know I learned from being around folks who like to orate, teach, perform, & create.

We used to joke about how I would start GrandpaStats.com as a website for fact checking my grandpa’s stories, because he preferred to argue & tell stories more for the sake of arguing than for dissemination of information--Admittedly he was great at these stories--I didn’t much take to arguing, though, so I learned to research & hide in worlds of “facts” retrieved from the early days of public web searching as a child (from 5+ years at the latest, maybe earlier, my dad got into computers early, which his younger 3 children, out of 5, definitely utilized--The nerdy kid that read encyclopedias & manuals & hung in the library got to raise his kids with a clunky vast digital library basically). I was always exploring virtual realms.

Growing up in the Valley (think valley girls & the northridge earthquake), everyone had some connection to film & theater. I grew up doing theatre with Southern California Children’s Theater & hanging around my mom as she used cardboard to build elaborate set pieces & costumes. I would get to do odd jobs & was always shuffling between this manager & that audition, because that’s just what you did.

Walking through a spooky maze to the back stage of the auditorium during lunch so I could learn to tell time as my mom helped build my elementary school’s ridiculous annual haunted house is firmly imprinted in my mind. I still know exactly where the absurd Toad & Game Boy Color costumes my mom made from things like duct tape, cardboard, school fundraiser wrapping paper, foam, dye, & some sheets are in my house.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A roll through the hits of some of my favorite costumes that I wore around to school, to performances, for Halloween, for myself, for fun include:

a pink feather duster (many times in fact, i got to wear monochrome feathers & sequins it was a loooook), punk rock princess (actually just me wearing a cut up t-shirt covered in the lyrics to a something corporate song because i was extra & punk af since day 1),

the Fame Monster (which entailed me wearing a cut off sequin dress from my mom’s closet with v drag make up while carrying around a pair of tights stuffed with padding & a Styrofoam head covered in green paint, multicolored feathers, & rhinestones that was my baby alien in a small production I did that year),

shadow dancer (black tutu, mask that was poorly designed for the nights activities. & leather jacket with rain boots & layered thigh high socks),

pop art (vaguely copied some andy warhol photographs while using the costume as an excuse to cover everything with me in paint in the middle of a train station locker room in amsterdam), & those are just a few from the top of my head.

There were some ill-advised choices there, too, unlike all of these, these are all wonderful choices

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My mom’s main job for most of my life was selling middle class art in formats similar to tupperware parties or eventually renting a space at our local mall after we moved & thought we could afford to get a full location.

There are a lot of jokes anytime we take a roadtrip about how they could throw some frames or suitcases on me in case I missed them. We used to pile all 5-6-however many of us we had at any given time into the car & go on silly adventures that were also vaguely technically ways for my mom to pick up merchandise or someone to do some work of some kind while actually just wanting to visit family & hang out in LA or Chicago or wherever family was then.

I got to grow up around pieced together everything & there was this culture of , saving this random thing or getting that deal so we can use it for something cool later, & that culture allowed me to take risks. Having a giant family & giant community surrounding me has always allowed me to just fucking try stuff. Not having a stable situation allowed me to not fear taking leaps. Those leaps are how we survive after all.

Now I have learned a fair bit of building from the myriad other cool tech, performance, theater, art, activist, etc. folx I have met over the years, & I get to do things like climb around a several decade old blackbox on 4th arts block trying to fix some speakers.

I get to do silly shit like play the lighting board like a keyboard for a show that I am lighting basically on the fly opening & only weekend (That is still one of my fav theatre pieces I have ever seen, I could gush), or end up troubleshooting a light rig in a theatre space in my first two weeks there. Shit, I was there & willing to help/learn. I still am. I still get to do cool shit.

Theater spaces are built out of collaboration, open source code is built out of collaboration, education is built out of collaboration. I love taking on large scale projects that d e m a n d collaboration. So much of our built environment has collaborative entities that have been thriving for years on models like WOW’s sweat equity model. Basically running by you help me, I help you, & everything else is everything else.

This is not that different than capitalist structures beyond the fact that: there is no inherent loser for everyone winner.

There are certainly spaces where this is not true, & I have experienced plenty of degrading & dangerous situations. This is not to say those aren’t a huge part of my history, present, hell, probably future. I am an out trans person speaking openly about my trauma, that just comes with the territory. Our society weaponizes my identity.

Our society weaponizes identity.

Yet spaces & movements built by queers, woc, immigrants, disabled, homeless, poor folk, & the like has & will continue to shape art & culture. Because that is what we do. We survive. We build. We try to make it easier for the generation after us to pick up the torch. Community is family is country is organism. We naturally build symbiosis. We are communal organisms, we exist on each other’s shoulders. I just want to build more spaces that are helping everyone climb rather than using bodies as the fodder for the ladders.

But that harsh reality is not what I am here to discuss.

I came here to discuss how we thrive. I go back to my childhood:

 I would make stories out of decks of cards. My family would lament all our piece meal board games, knowing that at some point someone would happen upon a stash of monopoly money & bizarre tokens that I could never fully explain. I was always building models & dioramas & systems & getting lost in tactile education. 

I would run away every few days leaving a note & taking a bag of gummy worms & maybe something to drink & a change of clothes. We would climb on awnings & watch people walk by & leer at our friends when they came or be silent & watch when it was anyone else.

I still climb around building, playing with broken tech, surviving by teaching & telling stories & passing down the history that was hard wired into me.

& I still don’t do it alone, even if the who, where, & what isn’t fixed.

This was meant to be a Glitter Kitten, which is a shorthand I use for a lesson Chris Howard taught me when I was showing my work at Come Out & Play After Dark a little over a year ago. Basically a glitter kitten is what I call any work I create that is meant to be silly & whimsical & fun. I have started collecting a good amount of glitter kittens since then, & I am always happy when a new occasion arises. I think this is something a little different. This is more like a glitter bolder or maybe a sequin river. It’s heavy & fluid & inundating, but sometimes stories do that: turn from cats to lions to roaring waters.

I don’t plan to make a sequin river tag just, yet, but I’d say glitter kittens are relevant enough to deserve their own space here.

[broadwayandacoffee]

Hey if you're doing ships, can I get one pls? I'm a trans guy, 5'10", pan, dark blue hair/glasses, hazel eyes. I'm anxious, pessimistic, and clingy. I hate school more than anything, and love my friends more than anything​. I'm in orchestra/choir and on the flag team. I listen to P!ATD and musicals mostly. I also learn songs for guitar/piano/bass and draw for fun.

Ok I ship you with Zoe! 

You guys met on the first day of orchestra in sophomore year. You were sitting in your section ready to go when she came and took the seat next to you, promptly taking your breath away! You never expected to meet such a beautiful girl in your life, let alone have one sit next to you of her own free will, so of course, you immediately started catastrophizing in your head about the multitude of ways you could mess things up. Before you have a chance to say something, or better yet, move, the conductor is in front of you signaling it’s time to start. 

After that first day, you try to pack up quickly and rush out, but Zoe is too quick, reaching out and grabbing your arm to stop you from leaving. 

“Um, I’m Zoe, Zoe Murphy. I just wanted to say you are really good? Do you want to maybe get together and practice one day?”

“Uh, Ok?” You shuffled around in your bag trying to find your phone when suddenly her hand was under your face, holding out a shiny black object that looked suspiciously like a phone.

“Here, just put your number in and I’ll text you so you have mine” You grabbed the phone and hurriedly entered your number as a new contact before handing it back to her and rushing out of the room.

“Bye Y/N!” you hear her faintly call after you.

—

Zoe had texted you almost immediately inviting herself to your house to practice because “Connor would just get in the way and be an idiot the whole time”. Saturday afternoon came around quickly, and you jumped as you heard the doorbell ring. You had a decently sized room, so you told her it would be easiest to practice up there and you could’ve sworn you saw a sparkle in her eye as you said that.

Once you got upstairs, she made herself at home sitting on your bed and getting out her instrument while you stood awkwardly in the doorway, unsure whether it would be ok for you to join her on the bed. Eventually you decided there was plenty of space and sat yourself as close to the edge as possible without falling off. 

After practicing for a solid hour, Zoe declared it was time for a break and put down her instrument before shuffling closer to you. You could feel your heartbeat quickening as her knee brushed up against yours. She leaned across and closed the almost non-existent gap, placing her cheek against yours and whispering softly

“I really like you Y/N. I’ve seen you around school for the past year and when I saw we were finally in orchestra together this year, I knew I had to make a move.” She took a breath before continuing. “I know you’re trans, so relationships are probably hard for you, but if its ok with you, I really want to kiss you now.”

You nodded, closing your eyes, finally letting your guard down and letting her take the lead and she connected your lips in a soft kiss before quickly moving away.

You took a moment to quickly whisper “I really like you too” before crashing your lips back together in a passionate, deep kiss.

OTHER THOUGHTS!

Zoe would love your glasses and has tried them on many times and even though you couldn’t see her too well, you thought they really suited her face shape.

You would have a chat about how you feel like you can get too clingy fairly on in the relationship and Zoe would assure you that she didn’t mind and as soon as she did she would say something.

You would play little duets together and often have “play offs” where you each picked a song and the other had to improvise how to play it if they didn’t know it.

She would always come to see new shows with you and was totally indulgent of your desires to listen to musical theatre in the car.

(Ok so this one turned out more like a mini-fic than a ship, but oh well! It was really fun to write & I might just turn it into a proper fic…)

[carteroflarrows]

A Mundane Online Confession CW: Mental Health? S.I. Trans dysphoria

I need this, it's 0100 and I'm stuck between stability and suicidal ideation. Considering others time and spilling my guts for hours. Feeling content and absolutely miserable and unwanted. This has more of an immediate time than necessary. But that's what you get when using words like, " suicide" or " need". I'm not exaggerating. I am and do. However, I've been this way for so long it's just my baseline. I'm used to images of my missing head, my cat crying as my roommates discover me. Me hanging from my closet rack with earbuds in each ear; blasting some angry or sad song. Maybe both angry and sad. One quickly follows the other, not in the order provided though. I walk around providing only a glimpse of my degraded mental state so that those who view my face get off my back. I've presented and soon after, adopted anger as a primary emotion over depression. People are scared of that, some anyway. IDK. I'm rabling but the point is I'm sick of hiding. While this isn't exactly a transparent form of communication, it's exactly what I need for now. I want to feel like people hear, but not let them see. If you have never been absorbed in to the mental system, you don't know how fucking dangerous it is to be deemed actively, or even passively suicidal.

As you may already know I've shuffled for 21, going on 22 years on this mortal coil. I've been depressed as long as I can remember. Miserable for as long as I could understand and suicidal as long as I haven't accepted it. I am in love, thought I was loved. It's a very one-sided relationship. I was with someone for almost 2 years and now all I have are shadows of memories. I can't really even remember what their face looks like. It behooves me to be cautious in describing that situation, as I'm really not sure what to think now, 3ish months later. Needless to say I'm a wreck. I've had relations with 6ish people and in the end found that I couldn't enjoy, perform or even have a good night without resenting everything beautiful soul that danced with me. It's just never the same once you've felt love. At least I think, honestly I can't say anymore.

Poverty has been a real treat. Lack of opportunity even better to boot. Seems no matter how hard I work, how long or whatever. It's never enough. Always more that needs to be done, paid for. Another emergency, another bill, another car problem, medical bill, vet bill or just plain irresponsibility. Despite this I have managed to save a little bit all that will probably go to feed my DUI fund. .015 over the limit. Please don't learn the hard way that feeling good and being legally good are not the same thing. Get a breathalyzer, don't assume. All of my savings where going to go to a car which I desperately need, or something fun to make it all worth it. Ceva Ceva.

To add to our pyre of self pity I'm a transwoman with a broad chest, Manish hands, an okay dick and legs that I think are gaining stress marks. I also know none of that negative shit is true. I get complements all the time, encouragement and drive. However, no incident of misgemdering can hurt me as much as it does to look in the mirror. In addition, as I've become more social, per the request of my psychologist, who believes my problem to be a lack of relational reimbursement; I've encountered far more bigotry than I'd like. I know I could never come out to my father or really any of my family. It certainly feels like no one desires me romantically. Not that I'm emotionally available but it'd be nice to know if some did. Though it may be a bit conceded I really wouldn't want anyone to reveal their admiration unless they were the future love of my life.

Speaking of love, know what it's like to be gas lit by your love? Fucking great. Never felt better. In addition, I can understand why they did so, for very relatable and logical reasons. So, I can not vilify them as they did me. So there's that layer of mortal complexity. Now I actually have to think of what, if anything I did terribly wrong or even somewhat abusive. Even though, after almost 4 months all I can think is I was depressed and didn't want to get out. I was broke, didn't want to spend money, I was agitated and needed to cool off, I was scared and needed to voice my concerns, 4 hours together twice a week isn't enough after two years & had trust issues so I needed to be reassured and know what went wrong. All this makes me think, "gee. You'll never, be enough. You'll always be less than". Oh! In addition I know it's bad, I know. However I'm venting so get off my back. I can not stop thinking about all the fucking shit I did for them. But when it came their time, we couldn't stop up to the plate. There are words I'll never trust again. "love" and "soul mate" chief among them. What do I put my trust in? Action? Usually has to come after I've already trusted the word. To wrap it up in a little bow. Despite me not harassing them, they unfriended me after asking to be friends and blocked me soon after. On everything. Minus phone. We've spoken twice since. I keep meaning to ask for my spare car key back but, it may just be in the stuff they gave me or plain lost. Not sure I want to know.

In the end all I've learned is that the promise of karma, love, possibilities, god or change are all breath upon loose lips.

Wanna know the funny part?

I work at a mental hospital.

[itsworn]

Pontiac Trans Am SD-455: Did Pontiac Save its Best Muscle Car for Last?

It was over, Johnny. The muscle car thing had run its fun, psychedelic course by the early 1970s. Rising insurance rates, falling compression ratios, and looming federal regulations effectively killed the fun like your junior high principal turning on the gymnasium lights at the end of the eighth-grade dance. Time to go.

Pontiac lingered as long as possible, and the Super Duty 455 engine was the final song they got the DJ to play as everyone shuffled off the floor.

That the SD-455 was produced at all was a miracle, given how quickly high-performance became politically incorrect by the early 1970s. Installing it in the Firebird was another challenge because the F-Body line was very nearly canceled after 1972. Sales for ponycars dropped precipitously as younger buyers sought more fuel-efficient cars. Consequently, Firebird sales plunged more than 56 percent between 1971 and 1972, to less than 30,000. Only 1,286 of them were Trans Ams.

Fortunately Pontiac was filled with passionate people, and they pushed the Super Duty 455 project along. It helped that the engineers were deep into the project when the market turned against high-performance cars, so it seemingly wouldn’t take much to push the SD-455 over the line.

Pontiac introduced the engine to the press in the summer of 1972, during the brand’s annual model line preview. Unsurprisingly, the response was enthusiastic. There was much to be excited about.

Almost every element of the engine was unique, from the block and heads to the rotating assembly, intake manifold, carb, and more. It was announced at the introduction with a 310hp rating, along with plans to make it available at the start of the 1973 model year. That didn’t happen. Creative interpretation on Pontiac’s part of EPA’s emissions test for certification didn’t go as planned, which pushed back production.

By the time Pontiac recertified the engine, with a revised camshaft and commensurate carburetor adjustments, the horsepower rating was revised down to 290. It was the spring of 1973, but the cars didn’t roll off the line in meaningful numbers, creating a significant customer relations problem. The company had stacks of preorders for cars it couldn’t deliver. By the end of 1973 only 295 Super Duty-powered Firebird models had been built: 252 Trans Ams and 43 Formulas.

The engine added $521 to the bottom line for a Trans Am and $675 for a Formula. A four-speed manual transmission was standard, and the stout Turbo 400 three-speed automatic was optional. Air conditioning was available with the automatic transmission, but that pushed the rear axle ratio up to 3.08. Non-A/C cars received a shorter 3.42 gearset.

There was plenty of confusion about the horsepower rating. Before the Internet the only reference data most enthusiasts had were six-month-old magazines promising 310 horses. Nevertheless, when the SD-455 finally hit the street, praise for it was universal, especially when it turned mid- and high-13-second e.t.’s at a time when a new big-block Corvette generally required another full second to run the quarter-mile.

It was great performance indeed for a 3,800-pound Firebird with smog equipment and a compression ratio of only 8.4:1, but the 395 lb-ft of torque and the exceptional airflow of the special cylinder heads more than offset the mandated handicaps. Even down a few horsepower, thanks to a “smaller” camshaft than the original spec, the production model was the quickest car out of Detroit in years.

The end for the SD-455 came too quickly for enthusiasts. With catalytic converters on the docket for 1975 and other related emissions changes, Pontiac knew from the very start the engine wouldn’t live beyond 1974, but it was a hell of a ride while it lasted.

Ironically, the enthusiasm for the engine wasn’t matched by sales. The delayed release in 1973 certainly squeezed the production run in the first year, but only 1,001 additional SD-powered cars were built in 1974, bringing the two-year total to 1,296. Cost was a likely factor, as the $521 premium for the Trans Am was the equivalent of more than a $3,700 option in today’s money, adjusted for inflation. And that was actually a premium on the already extra-cost 250hp 455 engine, which made the true cost more like $700 over a base Trans Am model. Some dealers also charged more because of the car’s scarcity. Bottom line: 13-second e.t.’s from the factory didn’t come cheap.

Collector John Nikolas was too young to drive when the Super Duty 455 finally hit the street, but his neighbor drove a 1974 Buccaneer Red example as a company car. His company happened to be General Motors and the neighbor happened to be Pontiac general manager Martin J. Caserio.

“I always admired the cars he’d bring home, including early Firebird Formulas that would chirp Second gear going up his winding driveway,” says Nikolas. “But it was that red Super Duty car that really stuck with me. I knew I had to have one someday.”

Today Nikolas owns four SD-455 Trans Ams, a white 1973 model and three from 1974, including the Cameo White example profiled here. A 51,000-mile car he purchased in 2004, it was sold originally in Texas and filtered through a few owners, including a well-known collector in the SD-455 world who owned 19 of them at one time, before ending up in a quiet area of western Michigan.

“The car was listed online for a long time, but it was located kind of far away from everywhere,” says Nikolas. “I was apparently the only one who drove all the way out there to check it out in person and bought it on the spot.”

The previous owners all took excellent care of the car. It was never modified, and every original component that was replaced over the years for maintenance or repair was never thrown away. Nikolas has them all in a box.

It’s a very well-equipped Trans Am, too, with the Custom interior that included a specific “horse collar” seat upholstery design with detailed piping, specific door panel trim, and a grab handle on the dashboard. The car also features power windows, power locks, air conditioning, and more, a collection of options that helped push the sticker price to nearly $6,300. That slower 1974 big-block Corvette cost about the same.

Nikolas purchased the car with the intent of a concours restoration, which he’d recently completed on his 1973 Trans Am, but the plan changed as he continued to enjoy the remarkably unmolested car.

“It’s a great driver with a lot of torque on tap,” he says. “Just jump in and go. I drive it to work regularly and take it cruising on Woodward Avenue in the summer. I’ve driven it on a couple of the Hot Rod Power Tours. It has never let me down.”

Although it hasn’t been restored, it was repainted sometime in the late 1970s, which was all too common for cars of the era, especially in climates such as Texas where the sun is unrelentingly punishing on thin factory paint jobs. It also has a new headliner and some light upholstery work accomplished with N.O.S. material that came with the car.

One more thing: The iconic shaker scoop has been opened up to feed fresh air into the Quadrajet carburetor. When introduced in 1970, the shaker was a functional fresh-air inlet, but Pontiac capped it off in 1973 for noise reduction. Perhaps anticipating owners’ actions, the scoop was sealed with a simple plate held in place with only a trio of easily defeated rivets.

“Between the performance and the mystique surrounding the engine, there’s really something magical about these cars,” says Nikolas. “They not only represent the last of the true muscle cars, but the sort of confident, no-holds-barred engineering that really made Detroit great.”

At a Glance

1974 Trans AM SD-455 Owned by: John Nikolas Restored by: Unrestored (1970s repaint) Engine: 455ci/290hp LS2-code Super Duty 455 Transmission: Turbo 400 automatic Rearend: 10-bolt with 3.08 gears Interior: Custom “horse collar” vinyl bucket seats Wheels: 15×7 Honeycomb Tires: 225/70R15 BFGoodrich Radial TA Special parts: One of only 943 SD-455 Trans Am models built in 1974

The rear of the 1974 Firebird lineup was updated with a new bumper that stood up to federal 2.5-mph guidelines. Wider, body-color taillamp surrounds were also part of the model-year upgrades.

The Super Duty 455 was originally spec’d with a high-lift camshaft that helped it produce 310 hp, but the bumpstick was changed to satisfy EPA emissions certification, pushing output down to 290 horses but with a strong 395 lb-ft of torque.

The SD-455’s carburetor was the familiar spread-bore Rochester 4MV Quadrajet but rated at 800 cfm. It was similar to other 750-cfm versions used on Pontiac engines such as the 455 H.O. but used larger primary venturis.

Super Duty engines were unique in having the PCV blow-by tube exit through the oil filler cap rather than the conventional valley location.

Inside, the Trans Am was essentially unchanged for 1974 but offered more color and trim options. Curiously, the sport steering wheel that was standard with the Trans Am was called the Formula wheel. It was only optional on Formula models.

The Rally gauge cluster that included a tachometer and clock was standard on the Trans Am and optional on the Formula. The engine-turned dash applique was exclusive to the T/A.

Optional honeycomb 15-inch wheels looked like cast aluminum, but the wheel center was actually an injection-molded composite piece bonded to a steel rim.

The famous large hood bird graphic (RPO code WW7), also known as the Screaming Chicken, debuted on the Trans Am in 1973 as a $53 option. The blue color of the bird here was offered on cars with white or blue exterior colors.

15 Facts You Didn’t Know About the SD-455

The Super Duty 455’s production run may have been brief, but it left an indelible mark on muscle car history. Between Pontiac’s ambitions and the hardware that tied it all together, there’s plenty to learn about the SD-455. We have collected the most important elements to put casual enthusiasts in the know.

It’s All in the VIN The first step in verifying an authentic SD-455 Trans Am or Formula is checking the vehicle’s VIN. The fifth character will be an X, the engine code. “Regular” 455 engines had a Y code in 1973 and 1974.

Restricted Duty The SD-455 was originally scheduled to be offered in several Pontiac models, including the Grand Prix and Le Mans/GTO. The EPA-driven production delays squashed those plans, as Pontiac focused on certifying the engine solely for the F-Body platform. That didn’t stop one magazine, however, from prematurely declaring the Super Duty–powered 1973 GTO its Car of the Year.

Cam Change The original camshaft for the SD-455 had the same profile as Pontiac’s Ram Air IV engine, which is commonly known as the 041 camshaft (for its original part number). To satisfy the EPA’s emission test, the camshaft was changed to the specs of the manual-transmission Ram Air III, aka the 744. It brought horsepower down from 310 to 290.

Short Supply Enthusiasts quickly learned that the SD-455 packed some stout internals, including forged steel rods with larger, stronger bolts. Dealers were quickly flooded with service parts orders. At one point there were 1,350 back orders for the rods when only 295 SD-455 cars had been built by the end of 1973. Pontiac clamped down and insisted VINs accompany orders for the special parts.

A Better Block The SD-455 block was unique, featuring four-bolt main caps—a feature shared only with the 1971-172 455 H.O.—cast-in provisions for dry-sump oiling, beefier bulkheads, reinforcing valley ribs, and screw-in galley plugs. The hole for the distributor was larger, too, to accommodate a larger drive gear than what was used on “standard” distributors.

Block Codes Like other Pontiac engines, the SD-455 block was stamped with a code that delineated its specific usage. Located on the front of the block, toward the deck on the passenger-side cylinder blank, were four SD-specific codes: ZJ (1973 manual), XD (1973 automatic), W8 (1974 manual), and Y8 (1974 automatic).

Head’s Up Much of the Super Duty 455’s performance advantage lies all in the special round-port, open-chamber cylinder heads, which were developed in conjunction with aftermarket experts AirFlow Research. You can spot them at a glance with the “16” designation over the center exhaust ports.

One-of-a-Kind Q-Jet A specific Q-jet carburetor was used on the SD-455, which was visually distinguished by a slanted, or slash-cut, vent tube at the front. Other Pontiac engines’ carbs had completely vertical tubes. There were four carb ID numbers for the SD engines: 7043273 (1973 manual), 7043270 (1973 automatic), 7044273 (1974 manual), and 7044270 (1974 automatic).

Oil Pump Problems An 80-psi oil pump was unique to the SD-455, and it generated too much pressure for the engine, particularly when cold, which proved damaging for some engines. Replacing it with the conventional 60-psi pump used in other Pontiac engines is the recommended fix. The SD pump is shown here at left with a conventional 60-psi pump. It is identifiable by the longer, removable cover for the internal spring, located just above the pickup tube.

Intake Manifolds Intake manifolds differed between 1973 and 1974. The 1973 SD-455 intake manifold has an “LS2” casting on the right-front corner, while the 1974 unit shows “LS2 X” in the same area.

Hairy Air Intake The original air intake hose was made of a fabriclike material that looked like hair. Aftermarket replacement hoses have an incorrect smooth appearance. It’s the same with other Trans Am models of the era, too.

Down Under Find In 2012, Australian Michael Scicluna purchased what he believed was a garden-variety 455-powered 1973 Trans Am in need of restoration. It had been in Australia since 1981 and was converted to right-hand drive. Turns out it was the original SD-455 test vehicle Pontiac loaned to automotive media. Expert Rocky Rotella helped authenticate the car, which Scicluna plans to restore.

Chicago Show Car At the 1974 Chicago Auto Show, Pontiac showed a very unique black-and-gold Super Duty Trans Am. It was a 1973 model that served as an internal design concept for the Screaming Chicken hood graphic and was updated with 1974 styling. It also clearly previewed the cues that would be introduced two years later on the 1976 Trans Am’s Pontiac 50th Anniversary special edition.

Exhausting Info Super Duty cars featured a specific 2 1/2-inch system, and the 1973 model was unique for twin resonators ahead of the transversely mounted muffler. They were not included on 1974 models.

Formula Shaker Super Duty–equipped Firebird Formula models were unique with their shaker scoop. After the engine’s production delay, it was cheaper and faster for Pontiac to use the Trans Am hood and shaker scoop with the SD-455 than certifying it with the Formula air induction system.

Author Barry Kluczyk delivers more on the Super Duty Trans Am and Formula models in his new book from CarTech. It is the sixth in the publishing companies In Detail series and offers the history of how the SD-455 models came to market, as well as an inside look at the unique engine, design details, and more. More information is available at cartechbooks.com; buy at amazon.com, bn.com, and other retailers.

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