#( OKAY THAT SHOULD BE THE LAST UPDATE FOR THIS POST )

[arabella-syntax]

Between the Lines

Pairing: Leah Williamson x Y/N

Last Part

Summary: She’s Ellis to the world, Y/N to the ones who matter. Leah is captain, but never in control of what she felt for her.

Word count: > 15k

Parts: Read the previous updates here.

A/N: Finally! This fanfic is completed. I enjoyed writing this so much, that I have written a somewhat AU of this “universe” fanfic.

————————————————————————

Leah, 25 December 2026, Milton Keynes

The Williamson family Christmas was always a little chaotic — in a way that felt like home.

There was the scent of her mum’s roast potatoes wafting from the kitchen, her dad humming the Spurs anthem under his breath to annoy Amanda, and Jacob arguing with the telly over a rerun of Love Actually. The paper crowns were askew before they even finished the crackers, and the dogs had stolen half the pigs in blankets when no one was looking.

It was familiar. Loud. Warm.

And Leah couldn’t shake the quiet in her chest.

She smiled and laughed when she should. Shared inside jokes. Clinked glasses of mulled wine. But every time her phone buzzed — and it had, twice — her heart leapt before her brain could catch up.

Not her.

Not yet.

Y/N had wrapped her final show in Paris a little over two weeks ago. The videos were everywhere. Clips of her in a sparkling black suit, confetti raining, voice raw and radiant on that final verse of Truth Behind the Lies. Leah had watched it on loop the night it dropped. Not because she didn’t believe it — but because some part of her needed proof that it meant something.

Since then, they’d texted. FaceTimed. Sent each other photos — sleepy dogs, bad coffee, the occasional lyric scribble. But never once did Y/N say the words Leah quietly feared.

That she was staying.

That she was done with the hiding.

That she had chosen them — not just now, but for real.

And Leah didn’t ask.

Because she was terrified of the answer.

————

That evening, the chaos quieted. The dishwasher hummed low in the background. The tree lights blinked like a soft heartbeat in the corner. Leah curled up on the armchair in her childhood bedroom — oversized hoodie, socks mismatched, the usual post-holiday fatigue.

Her phone lit up.

Incoming FaceTime: Y/N

Her thumb hovered for a moment, then slid right.

Y/N’s face appeared — makeup-free, hair tucked under a wool beanie, background faintly blurred. Probably hotel Wi-Fi. Her smile, though? That was crystal clear.

“Hey you.”

Leah leaned back into the chair. “Hey. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” Y/N echoed, voice gentle. “How’s the family chaos?”

“Still surviving. I think my mum won the crown game. Dad sulked and switched the telly to football.”

“That sounds exactly like what I imagined,” Y/N chuckled. Then her expression softened. “And you?”

Leah hesitated. Then nodded. “Holding steady.”

There was a pause, not awkward but weighted.

“I wanted to call,” Y/N said finally, “because there’s something I need to ask.”

Leah met her gaze through the screen. “Okay.”

“Do you trust me?”

The words settled like snow.

Leah blinked slowly. Her pulse ticked up.

She thought about how much she’d wanted this. How many nights she imagined hearing those exact words, and how strange it was that now — faced with them — she didn’t feel immediate ease, only the sharp edge of memory.

“I do,” she said, quietly. “My heart does. My head’s… still trying to catch up.”

Y/N nodded. She didn’t flinch. Didn’t push.

“I get that,” she replied. “Truly. And you don’t owe me blind trust.”

Leah tilted her head. “Then why ask?”

“Because I need to do something,” Y/N said, her voice steady now. “Something I’ve been working toward for years. But I also know it only matters if you believe in what’s coming — even if it’s not here yet.”

She glanced away for a beat, then back.

“My contract ends next week.”

Leah’s breath hitched.

“I’ve said no,” Y/N added. “To the new one. I haven’t told many people. But I want you to know first. Because… what comes next is me. Just me. Not Ellis. Not someone curated. And if you’re still here… if you want to be…”

Leah swallowed. “I do.”

Y/N exhaled, smiling softly.

“Then stay tuned.”

Leah raised an eyebrow. “What are you planning?”

Y/N winked. “Not telling. Yet.”

“Tease.”

“Always.”

They sat in silence for a while after that, smiling without words, until Leah’s mum called her from downstairs.

Y/N tilted her head. “Go on. Go win another crown.”

“I already did,” Leah said, smiling at the screen. “You just called.”

——————

Y/N, December 2026, London

The borrowed loft in Shoreditch didn’t look like a place someone would run away to. But it was the first space in months that didn’t feel like a set.

There was no concierge in a lobby. No hotel towels folded in triangles. No scent of vanilla diffusers from a label-sponsored suite.

Just brick walls, an old upright piano, a record player that skipped on Billie Holiday, and a mattress on the floor.

Y/N called it a beginning.

Olivia called it a tactical retreat.

The truth probably lived somewhere in between.

Her last show in Paris had ended not with confetti, but a blackout. Just her silhouette on stage, hand over her heart, breath shaking before the final verse of “Truth Behind the Lies.” The crowd was still chanting her name when the lights dimmed and her mic went dead.

She remembered walking offstage, chest aching like she’d cracked something open that couldn’t be sealed again.

“You alright?” one of the crew had asked.

She’d only nodded.

But what she meant was: I’m free.

————

December 29th. Two days before the year ended. Olivia arrived at the loft just after noon with two coffees and a sealed envelope.

“No lawyers,” she said, handing it over. “No press. Just this.”

Y/N stared at the letter. Printed on embossed paper. The kind that felt heavier than it looked.

Inside: a termination confirmation. The final formality. It stated the obvious — that her contract would expire on the 31st, that she was not renewing, and that while she remained bound by a non-compete clause until the end of 2027, she was free to distribute and perform any independently-produced material.

A long way of saying: You can do your thing. But don’t expect backup.

Y/N signed it without hesitation.

“You’re sure?” Olivia asked.

Y/N nodded. “I’ve never been more sure.”

Olivia exhaled. “Alright. Then we begin again.”

————

She didn’t throw a party. Didn’t post a countdown. Didn’t fly to LA or stage a New Year’s Eve comeback.

Instead, she stayed up late with the piano in the loft, bare fingers skating over worn keys, writing lyrics that sounded more like prayers than hooks.

The song didn’t have a name at first. Just a line that wouldn’t leave her head:

You don’t have to say forever — just tonight with your whole heart.

It wasn’t a single. Not a chart-chaser. It didn’t even have a proper bridge.

But it was hers.

She called it “The Quiet Between Notes”.

When she played it for Olivia on the 30th, her manager blinked hard and said, “It’s not a hit. It’s a confession.”

“Then it’s perfect,” Y/N said.

————

On New Year’s Eve, she stood alone in the loft, a single lamp casting gold on the floorboards. She set up a phone on the old upright piano. Hit record.

No makeup. No editing. Just her.

A voice in the quiet. Fingers over keys. A song barely whispering through the static.

She uploaded it to Instagram at 11:47 p.m.

The caption read:

The real tour starts in 2027.

Happy new year. I’m home.

#BetweenTheLines

No tags. No links. No label watermark.

And she turned off her phone.

————

It wasn’t until 12:26 a.m. that she turned it back on again. The screen lit up like fireworks — texts, DMs, mentions, news alerts.

But only one message mattered:

Leah: I saw it. You’re brave.

She stared at it for a long moment. Her breath caught.

She replied:

Y/N: You were my first brave thing.

————

Outside, fireworks cracked over the Thames. But inside, she only heard silence — the kind that felt like space, not emptiness.

Not the end. Not yet a beginning.

Just a pause.

A moment between two truths.

A quiet between notes.

——————

Y/N, January 2027, London

It was cold again in London.

Not the Hollywood kind — performative and dry — but the sort of aching chill that soaked into her bones. Camden held its winter hush, all wet pavements and faded yellow lights. And in that quiet, Y/N felt something like clarity. Or the beginning of it.

The chapel Olivia found sat tucked behind a butcher’s shop and a record store — an old deconsecrated space with candles in glass jars and chairs arranged in imperfect rows.

No sound crew. No stylists. No stagehands.

Just her, a piano, and thirty-something guests who had said yes without needing to know what it was they were saying yes to.

That was the point.

This wasn’t a concert.

It was a confession.

————

The rehearsal earlier in the day had been quiet, almost reverent. Y/N walked the space slowly, fingers trailing the stone altar. She whispered her warmups. Olivia checked mic levels with her usual precision.

By 6:00 p.m., everything was still.

By 6:30, the first guests began to arrive.

By 6:57, Olivia stepped behind the curtain.

“She’s here,” Olivia said gently.

Y/N’s breath caught.

She didn’t need to ask who. Olivia would only ever say that about one person.

————

When Y/N walked on stage at 7:03, she kept her gaze low. A handful of familiar faces in the audience. Some from the start of her career. Some from its messiest middle. And in the third row, wearing a black coat and white jumper, eyes locked on her — Leah.

No smile. No invitation.

But presence.

Full, quiet presence.

“I don’t know what this is,” Y/N said softly into the mic. “But it’s real. And that’s all I’ve ever wanted to be.”

She sat at the piano.

She began.

Song One: Two Things

The keys felt like glass under her fingers, but the song spilled from her easily — the familiar melody of shared coffee cups, slow glances, the ache of “almost” in the hours between.

She didn’t look at Leah.

She didn’t have to.

Song Two: Camden

This one hurt. Not because it was raw — but because it had been real. The chords pulsed under her hands like a heartbeat. The lyrics, about streetlights and strangers, echoed down the chapel walls like a memory.

There was no applause. Just silence. Weighty. Present.

Song Three: Truth Behind the Lies

Y/N cleared her throat before beginning.

“This one… you’ve heard. But not like this.”

It was slower than the single version — stripped-down, almost acoustic. No layered production. Just the truth, raw and fragile.

When she hit the line “I said I’d be anything but honest, and still you knew”, her voice cracked, but she let it stand.

There was no fixing what had been real.

Song Four: The Quiet Between Notes

She looked up just before she played the first chord.

“This one is new. I teased it on New Year’s — called it The Quiet Between Notes. But tonight’s the first time I’m playing it in full.”

She closed her eyes.

The song wasn’t long. Barely three minutes. But it held every word she hadn’t known how to say — in Zurich, in Camden, in all the places between.

It was, finally, the truth.

The real one.

When the last note faded into the rafters, Y/N sat in silence, hands resting on the keys.

No applause. No movement.

Just that chapel stillness — heavy, knowing, kind.

She stood. Bowed once. And walked offstage.

————

Leah was waiting outside.

Not by the door, but against the brick wall of the alley, coat pulled tighter around her, eyes soft and unreadable.

Y/N stepped into the cold.

Neither of them spoke for a second.

Then Y/N whispered, “I didn’t know if you’d come.”

Leah’s smile was barely there. “I didn’t know if I’d survive it if I did.”

Y/N huffed a breath that turned to mist. “You always say the most devastating shit when I least expect it.”

“Practice.”

They didn’t kiss.

Not yet.

But they stood in the dark, closer than they had in months, like the silence between songs had finally given way to something new.

Y/N reached for Leah’s hand, brushing it lightly. “Thank you for coming.”

Leah squeezed back. “Thank you for letting me in.”

——————

Leah, January 2027, London

The night air in Camden was cool but gentle, pressing against Leah’s skin like a secret not yet spoken. She walked beside Y/N down a quiet street just past the chapel’s modest doors, the hush between them wrapped in something softer than silence. The city murmured around them — taxis slicing through puddles, faint laughter spilling from pub windows — but here, in this moment, the world was pared down to two pairs of footsteps and a hundred things neither of them dared say.

Y/N’s hand didn’t touch hers. It didn’t need to.

They walked two blocks together, not for any practical reason but because parting too soon would feel too sharp. When they reached the junction, where Leah had parked discreetly, Y/N slowed.

“This was…” Y/N started, then paused. “Thank you for coming.”

Leah’s gaze flicked to her. “I meant what I said. I wouldn’t have missed it.”

Y/N’s smile was faint, but real. “Even after everything?”

Leah didn’t answer with words. She just offered that small, brave kind of nod — the kind that says, I’m still here, aren’t I?

Y/N dipped her head. “Sleep well, Leah.”

“You too.”

And that was it. No cinematic kiss in the streetlight. No grand declarations. Just the quiet, aching civility of two people trying again — carefully.

————

Back home later that night, Leah stood in the kitchen of her flat, kettle boiling and her coat still on. She felt hollowed out in the best way — like the weight of something heavy had shifted just enough for her to breathe.

She sipped tea that had gone lukewarm too fast and scrolled Instagram. The hashtag #ChapelSessions was already trending. Clips of Y/N — Ellis, to the world — flooded her feed. Acoustic, raw, unguarded.

She found herself watching a fan video of “The Quiet Between Notes.” It was a shaky recording, someone clearly crying while filming, but it captured the way Y/N looked when she performed: eyes closed, hands trembling slightly, like the music was the only scaffolding holding her up.

The comments were a flood of awe and speculation.

“Ellis has never looked more herself.”

“Can tell those songs meant something. Every lyric felt lived-in.”

Leah shut her phone off before she could read more.

————

The next morning, she met Keira for coffee after Arsenal training. The café was mostly empty, a sleepy Wednesday kind of slow. Keira had her hood up and sunglasses on, despite the grey sky.

“You look like you’re hiding from the press,” Leah teased.

“I am. Not the press — your fans.”

Leah raised a brow. “What?”

“You’re glowing,” Keira said, stirring her tea. “It’s suspicious.”

Leah rolled her eyes, but her smile was traitorous.

They talked about football first — always football. Arsenal’s mid-season form. England’s upcoming training camp for the World Cup. Keira’s annoying new physio. It wasn’t until the second round of drinks that the conversation shifted.

“So,” Keira said, not looking up from her mug. “You seeing her again?”

Leah hesitated. “We talked. She sang. I was there.”

Keira snorted. “Not what I asked.”

“I don’t know,” Leah said honestly. “It’s not simple.”

“No, it’s not,” Keira said, finally meeting her eyes. “But sometimes, it doesn’t have to be solved all at once. You just… decide to stay in it. Or not.”

Leah looked out the window. The street was wet with half-melted sleet. A cyclist passed, head down against the wind.

“I’m still in it,” she said quietly.

Keira reached across the table and tapped her fingers once on Leah’s knuckles. “You look lighter lately.”

————

That night, as Leah curled under her duvet, her phone buzzed once.

It was a message from Y/N.

“Thank you for staying until the last note.”

Leah stared at the screen, thumb hovering.

Then she typed:

“I wouldn’t have missed it.”

She pressed send. No hesitation.

She set the phone face-down on the nightstand and closed her eyes, hearing echoes of a voice she once kissed in the quiet.

It still lingered.

But now — maybe — it was beginning to stay.

——————

Y/N, February 2027, London

The flat in Shoreditch is all concrete angles and secondhand softness. It smells like fig candles and eucalyptus oil, things Olivia had left behind from her last visit. Outside, the February rain made no promises, streaking faint shadows across the windowpanes. Y/N sat cross-legged on the worn velvet couch, notebook on her lap, guitar untouched beside her.

She has been circling a melody for hours, fingers idle, thoughts anything but.

The Chapel Sessions had stayed with her like the hum after the final chord — not just the applause, but the stillness that followed. The way Leah stayed behind. The way they didn’t rush to label what the night meant, only that it had meant something.

They’ve texted since. Enough to feel it wasn’t a fluke. Not enough to make it real.

She scrolled up through their last exchange. A meme from Leah about the chaos of group chats. A voice note — a snort of laughter and a dry: “Imagine me, an Aries, in a room full of Geminis.”

Y/N had laughed. Alone, but it counted.

She opened her voice memos folder — the one she never names properly. Scrolled past “lyric_scribble_6” and “demo_alt.take” until she saw the one she saved from months ago. It’s Leah’s voice, low and a little sleepy, recorded during a late night when Y/N had asked her what she was thinking.

“I think…”

A pause. A yawn.

“I think you don’t realise how much of you stays, even after you leave the room.”

Y/N pressed stop.

Enough.

She closed the laptop, set aside her notebook. Breathed in. Then opened her phone.

No overthinking. No lyrics to shield her.

Just this:

Would you like to go on a date with me?

A real one.

Not just coffee in Camden or hiding backstage.

Just us.

She added a heart. Deleted it. Replaced it with a full stop. Then nothing. Finally, just the words — and she hits send.

She set the phone down and left the room.

—

By the time she returned, the light’s gone golden and the sky is already folding into dusk.

One new message.

I was hoping you’d ask.

She exhaled — long and quiet — and texted back:

Then let’s make it count.

——————

Leah’s POV · August 2027 · London

The plane ride home from Brazil was quieter than usual. The kind of quiet you don’t fill with noise, because everyone’s carrying something too heavy to set down just yet.

Leah sat by the window. Watched clouds crawl beneath the wings like they were in no hurry to be anywhere. And for once, she wasn’t either.

England had come close again. Finalists. Silver. One-nil to Spain. The same heartbreak, dressed in a different disguise. But this time, it didn’t feel like collapse. She had captained them with every fibre of her being. She had led, she had fought, and she had made peace.

She had left it all on that pitch in Rio.

And now she was coming home to something else. Something softer.

To someone.

————

The London summer was gentler than Brazil’s electric heat. The air cooler, the skies never quite certain of sun. But Leah didn’t mind. She wasn’t looking for spectacle.

She wanted the mundane. The real. The everyday that makes a life.

Her suitcase barely touched the floor before she heard the kettle click on in the kitchen.

“You drink peppermint now?” came the voice she had been missing in the quietest parts of herself.

Y/N — barefoot, hair damp, a mug in each hand.

“I’ve changed,” Leah said, walking over. “World Cup finals do that to a girl.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “We’ll see how deep the change runs. I bet you still leave your phone in the fridge when you’re tired.”

Leah grinned and stole a sip from Y/N’s mug. “Only when I miss you.”

————

They weren’t in Camden anymore. Y/N’s temporary Airbnb had turned into a longer lease in Shoreditch — a top-floor flat that smelled of eucalyptus and the lingering echo of chords that hadn’t yet made it into songs.

They never made a public announcement. No hard launch. No coordinated Instagram post.

But everyone who mattered knew. Keira. Jess. Alex, of course. Olivia, who had stopped blinking twice whenever she saw Leah in the flat. Their families. Her mum had cried the first time she saw them on FaceTime together — not out of shock, just out of recognition.

Leah didn’t need the world to name it. She knew what she had.

And what they had — it didn’t want headlines. It wanted quiet.

The kind that lets two people find each other again without needing to perform the reunion.

————

One week after she landed, Leah found herself on the sofa, legs curled under her, still wearing the hoodie she’d taken from Y/N’s closet that morning. Not on purpose. Not entirely.

Y/N was sitting on the rug, tuning her guitar — back straight, eyes soft.

She had written three new songs since Leah returned. None of them had names yet. She played the third one now, the melody like a memory trying to remember itself.

“What’s it called?” Leah asked, voice barely above the hum of the strings.

Y/N shrugged. “Don’t know yet. Thought about calling it Postcards from the Edge, but that felt dramatic.”

“You are dramatic.”

“I write dramatic,” Y/N corrected. “I live quietly.”

Leah leaned her cheek against the couch arm. “Call it Coddled.”

Y/N turned, one brow lifted.

“You know,” Leah added, “for the way you always steal the duvet and kick me in your sleep.”

Y/N grinned. “Sounds more like a diss track than a love song.”

“Same thing sometimes,” Leah murmured, smiling.

————

They spent the next day doing nothing spectacular.

Y/N read through fan letters over toast. Leah answered emails from the FA. At one point, they went to the corner shop in mismatched shoes and matching sunglasses, and nobody batted an eye. Leah thought about how many years she’d wanted a life like this but never let herself picture it.

Not because she didn’t believe in love — she did. But because she wasn’t sure if someone like her was meant for a love that wasn’t complicated.

But Y/N made the complicated beautiful.

The morning coffees with half-sweet oat milk. The voice notes left mid-rehearsal. The way she always said Leah’s name like it was a line from a song.

The way they let the world exist around them without it having to define them.

————

Later that week, Keira came by. Brought biscuits and silence and eventually asked, “You alright?”

“Yeah,” Leah said. “Better than alright, actually.”

Keira watched her for a second longer, then nodded.

“You look lighter lately.”

Leah didn’t answer right away. She didn’t need to.

————

One evening, they sat on the rooftop, wrapped in an old blanket from the tour van. London lights blinking in the distance. Y/N played Leah the same song again — the one with no name.

She didn’t sing the lyrics this time. Just played.

When the last note faded, Leah said quietly, “I think it’s called Us.”

Y/N didn’t correct her.

She just reached over, laced their fingers together, and leaned her head on Leah’s shoulder.

And in that moment, with no spotlight, no crowd, no fear — it felt like the beginning of everything they never thought they’d get to have.

————————————————————————

THE END 🤍

A/N: Leah and Y/N deserved softness. So this story ends where it was always meant to — not in a hard launch, but in quiet commitment. A kind of love that doesn’t need to announce itself loudly to be real. One that trusts the other person will still be there when the lights fade, and the music stops.

Thank you to every single reader who followed their journey.

[forgottenwriter]

Okay, I'm not gonna make a habit of constantly updating this and spamming you all, but I wanted to do one last thing here. The mods at r/Trans have made a reply here.

In it, they dance around the issue, refuse to take responsibility, try to play off the removed posts as an auto-mod (It isn't). furthermore, they accuse the drama of originating from brigading in order to further remove responsibility from their own actions.

They then complain that they're getting no transmasc mod applications (Gee, I wonder why after all this?.)

This post, more than anything I could ever write, is a damning indictment of the mod team. They have no responsibility, no willingness to step up to what they did or apologise to the people hurt. They still cannot even admit they did anything wrong, and they are peddling mistruth and false information at best, and blatant lies at worst.

I won't go into a big rant, but believe me, I could. This whole situation has me absolutely furious. We as a community need to be better than this. How many of us got chewed up by fate for being trans? How many of us got attacked by friends or family? Or isolated? Or hurt? How many of us are desperately clinging on, fighting just to keep our heads above water?

When the world turns against us, we should have each other. That much we should always have! We should know that we're supported by our own. Transmasc, transfem, man, woman, non-binary, intersex, we should all know that we have each other. That we're together.

And stuff like this? It strikes at the very heart of that unity. It crushes our unity, and it scatters us to the wind. We need to support each other, now more than ever, and stuff like this makes that impossible.

As a community, we should rise above this. We need to be better than this, please. For all our sakes, we have to be better.

And that's the last I'll say on this subject. Hopefully, I'll have some more fun and positive posts coming out soon!

An In-Deph Look At the R/Trans Drama

All right, I said before that I'd break this one down. Now, I'm not a big blog. I have less than 50 followers. I don't really think that whether I make this or not will make a ton of difference overall. But I've seen people asking about what's going on, and I've seen misinformation getting spread around, and more than that, whether my platform is big or not, I feel called to make use of it for something as important as this. I'm trans too, and though I'm not a trans guy, I know what it feels like to desperately look to your allies when you're hurting inside only to get deafening silence in return.

So I'm gonna speak. I'll start with a basic summary over what happened, followed by an in-depth look and examination. This will be a long post, probably several days in the writing. Either that, or I'll break it into a series of posts and reblogs.

The Summary: What the hell Happened on R/Trans?

R/Trans is a subreddit which boasts 611K members, making it a truly massive trans community. It was established in May 9th, 2011, meaning that it is also a fairly old trans community. It's linked to R/lgbt via shared moderators (We'll cover that in a bit.)

r/Trans styles itself as a community for the support of trans people. All trans people, and states such in its own rules: ''Rule 4: This Space is for Transgender People

While we appreciate that many cisgender people want to support transgender people, r/trans is a space for transgender people to discuss their lives and issues that surround them, and submissions from outside of the community are not welcome in this subreddit.

If you are a cis person with a question about the trans community, or the partner of a cis person, please ask your question in r/AskTransgender.

If you are the parent of a trans child, you can ask your questions in r/cisparenttranskid.'' Furthermore, it solidifies this claim again later in the same rules:

''Rule 6: No Gatekeeping Ideologies

Our subreddit is one specifically aimed at allowing people to explore their identity and creating a safe space for those identities to be explored. Truscum, transmedicalist, and other gatekeeping ideologies do not serve our subreddit's goals and comments or posts promoting such are prohibited. This specifically includes suggesting that gender affirming medical care should only be available to adults.''

Okay, so far, it looks pretty good right? Big community. Old community. Open to everyone. Cares for us all. it's basically perfect. Exactly what we need! The only way this could be ruined is if the mod team were actually highly biased against a specific group of trans people and trying to hide behind feigned inclusiveness, but that would never happen, right?

Oh. Oh dear.

Slightly more than a week ago, a user on r/trans made a long, detailed post on the treatment of transmen in the community. This post was largely well received by all members therein. I want to drive that in very strongly. This was not a community issue. Most people who read that post agreed with it, and supported the user in their points and venting.

The post was made to two places, r/trans and r/lgbt. It can furthermore be found here. If you would like to check it yourself, I encourage you to do so. I am trying to be largely unbiased, but as you can certainly tell by my tone, my scorn at this whole situation is leaking through. I don't want you to take my word for this. I'm a guide. I'll be dropping links. Check this shit out yourself, okay?

Anyway, back to the story. So, the user made those posts, and for about a week, nothing happened. It was business as usual. Then, 3 days ago, that post vanished. It was removed by the mods with no warning or indication as to why.

The user made another post asking for clarification here. As you can see, that post has also been removed.

Yeah.

Not a great sign, huh?

But that's not where it ends. Buckle in, because we're only at the start of the wild ride.

During the thread asking for clarification, the orginal poster was told the following: ''Your previous post was removed for talking about how trans men "are talked about and cared about so little that many people don't actually know the shit we go through."

This is divisive to the community.

You even called out the reason the post is divisive when you said "Please do not respond to this post with "Well I think trans men are talked about less because society sees them as confused women" or anything like that."

You knew the post would bring in arguments. Posts that encourage fighting about who or why is oppressed are not allowed.''

So, we're running into issues right away. To be clear, this sort of post is very expected in this community... when it's talking about trans women. The post the original poster made was accepted by the majority and no one considered it an issue for a week. As a reminder, you are free to check it yourself to see if it is the kind of post that would be against the rules. I encourage you to do so if you haven't already.

Furthermore, the Op told us that they received modmail from the sub too:

''The rude comments from mods I got were the following:

In my messages when I asked why my post was taken down, I was told it was because "sexual assault is not unique to trans men" in response to my post pointing out trans men's disproportionate rates of being sexually assaulted. I was also told that the dismissal of trans men "doesn't happen" and then I had two comments about my post being "oppression olympics" even though I clearly stated multiple times in my post that was not the point, and was very deliberate with my language to ensure I was not putting anybody down while trying to pull trans men up.''

Some of these messages have been screenshot and can be read here.

So, following this, the second post asking for clarification was removed for ''bitching'', and one of the mods may or may not have used ''bitch'' as a slur specifically to refer to the original poster who is FtM, but I've been unable to chase up any screenshots of that. I believe it happened, but Imma be transparent with that one. Believe or not at your own discretion.

Anyway, the community fucking exploded. Turns out that a lot of people actually weren't okay with this, and felt it was a little bit bullshit for a trans guy to get thwacked for a post that would have been absolutely acceptable from a trans girl.

In response, the mods banned the original poster for three days, and made an announcement I will quite below:

''Stop With The Trans Man Post Removal Commentary

We have now removed a dozen posts of people complaining about the one where a mod removed a post espousing how trans men are treated differently in trans circles and by the world. We have replied to the OP, explaining exactly how their post was divisive to the community. The post was also removed by a trans masc mod, so please stop saying it's oppression by the trans fem mods.

We are actively monitoring the sub and removing any posts that are talking about this. These posts are not going to change our stance on the original post. We are not currently banning people for it if they only post once, though usually they would be for causing disturbances. However, those who continue to harass the sub and the mods with this will receive temporary bans. We are also not sending out removal notices for them, because every person posting it knows why it's being removed.''

The announcement has been been removed, but you can find the deleted notification here.

I also wanna address another thing straight up. This is the first instance of what I believe to be a direct lie on the part of the mod team. They claim that their singular trans masc mod was the one who removed the post. As far as I can find, that is straight untrue. The trans masc mod has since left, and commented that they left pretty much as soon as they realised what had gone down and that they were being dragged out as a shield. They didn't comment specifically on whether it was them that removed the post... but given they say they left as soon as they were aware, have not defended the action, have actively opposed the action, and the mod team have continually tried to reach out to ftm people to act as shields, I am pretty confident in saying that hey did not, in fact, remove that post.

Also, yes, they did eventually start to ban people who refused to be quiet about this.

Now, at some point, the original post also got pulled from r/lgbt, and it turns out, the two subs have a mod overlap. Given the original post is breaking no rules on either sub, this is starting to look a lot like ass covering as the fires really start to light up.

But oh boy, it gets worse. By now, things were starting to boil over. Not only was it leaking to r/lgbt but also r/ftm, which I must say, was handling it significantly better, but we will get onto that later. We still have a lot to go, and I'm trying not to jump ahead.

So, around this point, the mods are starting to realise they fucked up. The original poster is unbanned, and the same mod who made the earlier announcement had this to say:

''From the exhausted mod who is really trying to figure out what to do:

When I made my original post, I was unaware of the mod who actually did insult the OP in the comments. I thought they were talking about modmail, which I have personally been trying to manage for the last three hours, and I did not insult the OP in them. OP and I are discussing the situation now, and I would like to apologize to everyone for the inappropriate way one of our mods talked to the community.

I really am not trying to silence anyone's voice. I'm sorry that's how things came across. But if we keep getting flooded with hate for the mods, the people who want to talk about their own stuff outside this issue are going to get drowned out, and that's not fair to the other members of the sub. And even if we reapprove the post, we're still going to get flooded by people who are angry it went down in the first place. I've been trying to figure out how to handle this for the last like three hours, and I don't know what I can actually possibly do to stop this.

So, I guess if you want to rant at me here in the comments about how horrible I am for trying to figure out how to deescalate a situation that has gotten way out of hand, and that I shouldnt feel like crying in a corner right now because I don't know how to handle this, because I'm just a normal person who has had their Saturday afternoon turn into a shit show.... then go for it. If comments are removed on this post, it's because they've been sent to the queue for review, not because I am actively removing them.''

So, the first thing I wanna do is point out how manipulative this comment is. It's taking what should be a rather direct post about the community - what happened, what's being done about it, how they hope to go on - and making it about the mod themselves. ''I'm tired, I'm the victim, go on and hate me.''

This is a pretty classic trick that is sometimes used to misdirect, and guilt trip people. While directing hate is always, always, always bad, by making the conversation about hatred directed at the mod staff, it's totally side-stepping the original issue. It's far easier to defend your actions when you cast yourself as being pelted with hatred than it is when you have to own up to the fact that you and your staff are pulling posts by transmen and transmascs for no reason.

No one should be hated, no one should be sent hatemail, but we have to be able to discern when someone is being sent hate and when someone is using hate as a shield so they don't have to deal with the consequences of their actions. And this right here? This is a classic example of that. It takes the whole point and spins it from where it should be - ''We fucked up'' in order to take it to a weird, victim place where anyone who tries to press the issue is the bad guy because the mods are stressed and overworked and need to be babied.

If this was an isolated thing, I would be far more willing to give it a pass. Everyone gets overwhelmed sometimes, and everyone overreacts. Sometimes, we do feel like the put upon victim, and I am not saying that mods deserve hatred, or that they're free targets, or that anyone who spews bile at another person is good.

But remember how it was the trans masc mod who removed the post right up until it wasn't? This is the point where I wanna get back r/ftm. You see, the mods from /rtrans reached out to the staff, supposedly because they wanted the r/ftm mods to check them and make sure that they weren't being biased. But the impression the ftm staff got was very different.

Here is a quote from a conversation between the mod staff of r/trans and r/ftm

''Trans Mod: No, actually. The modmail sent to your team about the situation was legitimately asking if the mods of other trans subs thought we were acting out of line, because nobody here was questioning the removal, but the sub was up in arms about it. The mod was legitimately asking for feedback to see if they misinterpreted the post from people who weren't raging at us. You could have replied to the modmail and said, "hey, this is spilling over here, and we think you misunderstood the post and your reasoning behind the removals for these reasons." Instead, you ignored us and made your own post, sharing private moderator information about the contents of the modmail, and essentially blamed our sub for being transphobic. [downvoted]

Ftm Mod: The modmail you sent did not read like that at all. It honestly did read like you just wanted us on your side and to have us further take action against users posting on our sub. The contents of the modmail that was shared were honestly something we felt were not acceptable things to say, and we were shocked and disgusted with the blatant disregard for trans men/transmascs. We felt that because things were being deleted and hidden left and right, it was important information to provide.''

Link to this conversation is here. I have only covered a bit of it, there are more details if you want.

So, we have a situation where the staff is claiming the post was removed by their single transmasc member, who tried to rope the ftm mods into backing them in a way that made that staff feel uncomfortable, and who then tried to play the victim card when their community was on fire.

This is the point where their sole transmasc mod left. He had this to say:

''By staying on the mod team I would've been just as culpable

Disclaimer: I voluntarily resigned and I wasn't banned''

Source

He furthermore had this to say about the staff of r/trans:

''Former Mod: For starters, in June of 2024, there used to be a mod who had her own unrelated Discord server I was in for about 8 months (a different mod from the one that made that comment); who begged for money for the members of her Discord server and never paid them back. I managed to bring all the to the attention of the mod team using screengrabs of Discord DMs from the people that mod conned out of their money as evidence, and she was removed. Edit for important information: I was never under any confidentiality or agreements like that.

Former Mod: To be honest I think that whole situation in June '24 was what started my suspicions of issues going on with how the server was being run. When I was on their dedicated moderator Discord earlier today, they essentially pretended that the mod who made that comment never did anything...

Former Mod: I couldn't be complicit in such exclusivity, so I pretty much was like "screw y'all" and left. Idc care if I'm called a traitor or shit like that; I felt that stepping down from my mod position and unsubbing was the moral thing to do.

Former Mod: The proverbial straw that broke the camel's back was they didn't remove the mod who made that comment (y'all know the one)''

Source

At this point, the head mod mod stepped in, removed the mod who had made the bitching comment, and tried to calm things down. Everyone who was banned was restored, and the sub was unrestricted again. Sounds like the end, right?

Well, no. Sadly, it seems that transmasc and transman support posts are still mysteriously vanishing, as are posts that talk about the drama. We still have one last twist in our tale, my friends.

You see, remember how I mentioned there was mod overlap between r/trans and /lgbt? Well, it turned out, that same mod also mods a bunch of LGBTQ subs....and a conservative sub.

Yeah.

Now, here is an example of the kind of posts that are flying in their sub. This is suspected to be the same mod who pulled the original post from r/lgbt, and is potentially the one who pulled it from r/trans.

So that's where we stand right now. My short summary turned out to be nothing of the sort, I suppose. I'll post this separately, it seems long enough now to stand on its own. At some point soon, I'll follow it up with my own personal take on the situation, but this should stand alone as a document to help anyone wondering just what happened.

I would like to rep R/SubredditDrama for being the place I pulled most of these quotes and links from. Find it here.

if you wanna pursue your own research, this is a good place to start.

[mikimakiboo]

📓?

Hold on I gotta look at my draft folder

...

Okay I have one

This one isn't even that old, I started writing it last year, but then my cat died, so I lost motivation, then I wanted to work on it again, then my other cat died, so I lost motivation again, then I wanted to get back to it, but by that time the community I had on the app I was planning to post faded, and I did have the idea to translate it and continue in English but I was already at 14k words and I didn't want to translate 14k words so I just gave up

Maybe I should get back to it one day

But anyway, so the story is an Errormare set in Greek Antiquity, more precisely the mythology ( with of course a LOT of liberty taken as the gods are the monsters, but it is still based on it )

In this story Error is the God of Destruction, reputed to be quick to anger with a short temper, violent, kind of an anti-social outcast as he has his house far from the other gods, but the thing is: this reputation got formed when he was a kid, when he was a teen and didn't control his emotions and powers, but growing up he actually changed a lot ( also thanks to Reaper and Geno who kinda raised him ), but the other gods didn't update the reputation

And then you have Nightmare, a young Dryad who ate his mother's ( Nim, goddess of feelings, who is actually a loving mom, shocking I know ) apples to protect himself and his brother from the villagers, and who got punished for it because he stole from a goddess and killed mortals, his punishment being: serving as a slave for the God of Destruction for 200 years

He's not thrilled, to say the least, because he heard of the reputation attached to Error

And the thing is with this story I didn't want to make it a basic slave x master, you know, I wanted them to actually respect each other and learn to see past the prejudices

Because Error is not the troublesome God he was, he is calm, knows that destruction isn't always bad like everyone says it is and is sometimes necessary, he knows what being young and rebellious is like, he learned to be patient... he's really not his reputation anymore

And Nightmare is not just a stupid Nymphe who stole apples, and sure at first he is scared of Error, but the more he grows comfortable around him the more he shows his personality and that he doesn't let people crush him down, he's not helpless and will speak up his mind

And the two eventually grow close and the line between master and slave becomes blurry and eventually dissapears even if technically Nightmare is still punished

I even made a rough plan for Error's house

I don't know if I'm ever gonna work on it again, maybe if enough people are interested ? I don't know, only time will tell lol

[mulberriesandtea]

canto 7 spoilers below.

YOU MUST ALWAYS STAY ON TRACK FOR YOUR DESTINY.

SANSON CARRASCO, THE DOCTOR, THE MAGICIAN WILL ALWAYS SALVAGE DON QUIXOTE FROM DELUSION.

THE FLOW CANNOT BE STOPPED IT CANNOT BE HELPED IT WAS ALWAYS GOING TO END THIS WAY. JUST ACCEPT IT.

[schnaf]

27 days until gunil's 27nd birthday

day 12 - shadows

[rking200]

It's heckin' Sunday!! Please enjoy the latest chapter of The Red Room, alongside another amazing render by @connor-sent-by-cyberlife ! This one really got me in the feels ;w; I've been a bit extra busy with the holiday season, so please excuse the lull in my comment replies. I promise I appreciate each and every one more than all of you know, and I'll be sure to catch up as soon as I've gotten a moment to myself <3

The Red Room (138759 words) by rking200 Chapters: 16/18 Fandom: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Hank Anderson/Connor Characters: Hank Anderson, Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Original Chloe | RT600, Markus (Detroit: Become Human), Elijah Kamski Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Human, Stalking, Vomiting, Suicidal Thoughts, Top Hank Anderson, Bottom Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Connor is a Mess (Detroit: Become Human), Hank Anderson is Bad at Feelings, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Missing Persons, Abduction, Manipulation, Death Threats, Mental Health Issues, Zlatko didn't do it, POV Alternating, Slow Burn, Sex at some point Summary: Connor Stern is a law school dropout who dreams of making it big in the music industry. He manages to get into a special apprenticeship program with the musical genius Elijah Kamski and, despite working two jobs and struggling to stay afloat, feels like his dream is finally within his grasp. When Hank Anderson stumbles into the lounge Connor performs at, The Red Room, he becomes entranced with him. As Hank falls in love with Connor's voice, he ends up entangled with conflicting emotions and delicate situations. Slowly, his nights are filled with Connor's songs and his closeness, even if he feels he doesn't deserve it. They reach several roadblocks along the way of getting closer, some more dangerous than others. A collaboration written alongside Connor-sent-by-Cyberlife for the Reverse Big Bang 2024, told with a POV alternating between Hank and Connor. Chapters added weekly.

[jils-things]

by the lighthouse.

dividers

[catneedssleep]

MUAHAHAHAH !!!

FUCKING INTRO POST ???!?!? 1! 1

Welcome to THE SILLIEST FUCKING BLOG EVER RAAAGHHGH🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

I .. DO STUFF SOMETIMES 🎉 YWAH

I MAKE EMOJI (if I'm not burnt out (highly unlikely)) , I'M BEGINNER ARTIST WHAT MORE COULD YA WANT ??? 🤘

erm .. >_> oh yeah about me heh

Cat / Tiger (my names .. Woah !)

Ask for prns OR it / its ^_^ my pronouns fluctuate because I'm genderfluid 🙀

I'm queer . Lol . And taken ... BYMYWIFIE omg ! @ddoofu my boyfriend my wife love of my life I am never not thinking about her omgeonsg hi babe :) heheheheeh lalalalala 🩷💜🩷💜

I won't tell you freaks on the internet everything I am but just know autism , adhd , bpd , npd , dyslexia , and the duo depression & anxiety x4 (wow ! That's a lot ! Yeah , well there's more but you're not gonna learn that buddy bud)

Other information I guess ,, -> I'm Hippie , Punk , Anarchist ( it goes with the punk I know) , Agnostic , Spiritualist , Nonhuman and a Furry . I'm fucking goated

Boundaries because duh

Don't call me any nicknames unless your my boyfriend . I HATE nicknames .

Don't playfully / romantically flirt with me I don't play around with that shit

Don't use any sort of touch words or whatever with me unless you're my wife (for example “ cuddles you ” “ Boop ” “ hugs you ” is a nono for me

Slurs are fine as long as you don't overuse them so much that it actually turns derogatory

Kys jokes are funny as shit just don't overdo em :3

Don't make fun of me I am a sensitive mutant :'(

Use tonetags / tone indicators I can't understand you my dude

Basic dni + endos and the supporters, dark / proship , excessive nsfw blogs , anti age / petreg , antixenogender , anti nonhuman anti good faith (excluding the actually problematic stuff) blah blah blah don't be a fucking dick okay

Okay emoji rules

You can request any character but I am biased and if it's smth from whatever I don't like I won't fucking do it (#☣︎character mojis)

Gore emojis are fine , I enjoy the anatomy n stuff . Block the gore tag if you don't wanna see that (#☣︎blood spilled)

Nsfw / Nudity emojis are fine , same with the last one if you no wanna see it .. Block it ☝ ( #☢︎getting freaky in the lab <- nsfw . nudity -> #☢︎nakey in the lab)

Other emojis lalalal yes go

I am extremely biased and blunt when it comes to things , it's how I am . So please PLEASE PLEASE don't be hurt if I don't want to do your request :0)

Also please don't expect anything super amazing , as I've said I'm a beginner artist :0)

Erm .. Yea that's me you should follow me heh

Userbox & Mogai requests have moved over to my side blog ;; @candymogai

Bye!! :3 goes back to my Billy Talent lalala

[flaming-toads]

I wanna draw but none of my wips are calling to me atm 😔

[fuka-petals]

i hope youre doing alright !! i hadnt seen you iin my dash in a while and was wondering wahts going on <//33 please take care of yourself !!! i promise you that wahteveres going on will pass and things will get better, though im sure youre probably tired of hearing that,,, just stay strong ok !! you will get through this and you will thrive ! i beleive in you !!!! you are so important and so precious !!!!!!

thank you I appreciate it

[keeps-ache]

so Apparently a game i was running on my computer (without a cooler thing for a good minute there, because i guess i thought i was invulnerable to heat) may or may not have burnt out some parts of my machine. and it's been a couple months since i've played it bc it just stopped working one day and i just had to accept that lmao- but anyway i'm booting the game up again today, Surely this will go differently :3

[the-kipsabian]

i got so excited about getting an email that my stamps have shipped

is this what being an adult is like?

[korattata]

remind me to never ever read the comments on a game that's in early access ever again

[rmbaloncesto]

.

[pherryt]

A multi fandom Crossover - 12 chapter, 28K fic - Rated G, No Ships

Summary: Zoro and Ryoga get so lost they travel through other fandoms. No, they don't know what's going on either, but they sure would like to find out. Maybe someone along the way will have answers?

Why should you read Lost Boys? Let me Convince you

Firstly, I know I probably hurt myself and my chances of this getting read - always a struggle for a normal crossover, much less one like this - by posting it all at once, but I truly believed it would be more enjoyable to read that way and I didn’t want to deprive from that experience.

Secondly, I'm pretty proud of this multi fandom crossover and I don't think you need to know all the fandoms involved to enjoy it. (I even have testimony to that fact). 

Each chapter focuses on one fandom (outside of the Main Characters of course) and should be written in a way that you don’t need to already be familiar with them and can also, mostly, stand on their own (with one or 2 exceptions) if you wanted to skip to a fandom you were more interested in.

So, in that light, I’m going to make some posts (by chapter) with teasers, tid bits and maybe even art.

This fic started as a crack idea, and still retains some elements of that. It should be just some nice, lighthearted fun as Zoro and Ryoga ping pong through a series of random universes that were mostly picked out by my friends, followers and fellow writers.

What do you need to know about the Main Characters: Ryoga Hibiki and Roronoa Zoro?

1 - Ryoga Hibiki (or more properly, Hibiki Ryoga) aka, P-Chan, is from the Manga/Anime Ranma ½ by Rumiko Takahashi, which came out in 1987. He is not the Main Character, but he’s the main rival (and reluctant best friend) of the Main Character. He’s a martial artist, insanely strong and, as far as i know, the original Eternal Lost Boy. 

Oh yeah, he also turns into a pig. (The pig form of him is referred to as P-Chan)

Ryoga’s ability to get lost is so bad, he was once three days late to his own challenge - which took place in the empty lot behind his house - because he couldn’t find the location he had chosen himself.

2 - Roronoa Zoro is, of course, from One Piece by Eiichiro Oda, which is currently an ongoing series started back in 1997. He’s a green haired swordsman that uses three swords - a style he created himself, and is the First Mate of the Strawhat Pirate Crew, and also pretty strong.

He also cannot follow directions for his life.

The Zoro in this fic is pre-timeskip, so he’ll be in his white shirt, black pants, green haramaki outfit.

The Premise:

The idea behind this story came about when I watched an episode of early One Piece (Just before the Thriller Bark arc, somewhere around episodes 326-335) where Zoro got separated (Re: Lost) from the rest of the crew and wound up in the enemy’s stronghold with no idea how he got there or where he was or that it was even the enemy.

It made me think of all those “One does not simply walk into Mordor” memes, one of which includes the 11th doctor doing just that with the tag line “Simply walked into Mordor, doesn’t know where he is”, because that was absolutely what Zoro had just done.

And what would be better than having one lost boy? Having two! And thus, this story was born.

[bowcard]

hey guys, i’m here to relieve you of your fear-mongering For You Page, here’s what we know:

1. this is not “world war 3”. that would be insane, unrealistic, unnecessary, and would never happen immediately off of one (albeit, awful) event like this. absolutely no country wants to go to war right now lol. anyone who makes any joke or post about “getting drafted” or “we’re all gonna die” has not done a lick of research, do not engage with it. plus, we’ve been at war with the middle east for ages, so for them, the timing of this attack is a bigger shock than the attack itself.

2. people in the US are not going to get hurt. more than likely, the worst this can get is some type of gulf war with the middle east limiting access to our resources, which still isn’t ideal. the best course of action for iran right now is to control what they can, which probably means cutting off the strait of hormuz, a strait that runs to the US (and other places) and provides it with resources like oil. (at least, that’s what i predict will happen based on the research i have done, but the resources part still stands). the US military is too advanced and too strong for an attack on US soil to be a strategic move for iran (a country with a population less than a third of the US’s) because they know that whatever they do, the US military will hit back even harder (that is apparent from one of trump’s latest social media posts… that heinous bitch 😒)

3. president trump wants you to be living in fear. that’s what his entire platform has been run on, along with lies and hypocrisy that more and more people are starting to see through. whatever happens in the future, this will be a huge turning point for a lot of individuals who may or may not care about who they voted for. but for those who did not ask for this, here’s what we can do:

stop making everything about the fear in the US and do what you can to lift up the people of iran, the people who were actually attacked, especially if this situation progresses any further. if military attacks do break out, it will most likely be on iranian soil, not the US’s, so do your best to try to be selfless, even through the fear.

please for the love of god do your own research, and keep it as unbiased as possible. news articles, reports, even historical articles, anything is better than scrolling through tiktok or tumblr and making your anxiety even worse. don’t even take what i say as fact! yes i’ve done research, but things can (and will) change, so it’s best to stay updated in whatever way you can.

spread positivity, build community, and gather information. as civilians, that is our current best course of action, and our collective greatest strengths. living in fear is feeding into what our government wants you to feel like so you’re easier to control. do not let them.

this is my own pet peeve, but stop saying “we bombed iran” or “we started a war”. WE did not do anything. donald trump did. that is not the america i associate with, nor should it be the one you associate with, either.

lastly, and i’ll say this until i die, everything is going to be okay. there will be issues, of course, but it won’t last forever, i promise. take a break from doomscrolling and get a good night’s rest. stay safe 🫶