#a girl got in trouble at her school for making the trans kids uncomfortable because they didn’t like that she was a butch lesbian

[empress-hancock]

One of our main viewpoints is the fact that women who are “inadequately feminine” still are and always will be women because the way you dress or behave does not change the fact that you are a woman. There is no such thing as being a woman “incorrectly,” you either are one or you are not. No amount of surgeries or clothes or “masculine” hobbies will change that. A butch lesbian who works as a mechanic is just as much of a woman as a feminine straight woman who works at a clothing store because a woman is not something we measure with levels or percentages or tiers, it’s a yes or no question.

Conservatives are the people who hate nonconformity, and will try to push people back into the boxes that we are forced into by society.

I don’t know how you could get this so incredibly wrong when some of the main points in radical feminism are about criticizing various forms of femininity, like makeup, high heels, and manicures, due to the ways they negatively impact women. Like, we are so well known for this stuff that people will accuse random women of being “terfs” simply because they made a post about not liking makeup. We can’t simultaneously be ugly bitches who hate makeup because we’re not good at it, and a club of hyperfeminine women who exclude any woman who doesn’t participate in the expensive and time consuming ritual of making themselves look like a model.

Stop calling everyone (because it’s not even just women at this point) who ever has even the slightest difference in opinion about the trans movement (because you guys get mad at stuff that isn’t even hateful! Like “AFAB and AMAB are intersex terms please stop co-opting them and come up with new terms instead”) a “terf” and maybe you won’t look like fools every time you accuse radfems of stuff that is the exact opposite of what we think and/or do

it's not even that ppl slightly misunderstand radical feminism. they FULLY don't even know the core tenets and then end up saying stupid shit like "radical feminism thinks if you have short hair, you should be shot on sight because you have betrayed the barbie code" and will get 40k positive notes lmaoo

[chaotic-toby]

My TCOAAL oc!

Name: Angel Graves

Age: 21

Angel is the cousin of Andrew and Ashley. He was sent to live with them when he was around ten years old. His parents had to get rid of him because a) they were too poor, b) they kinda regret having him, and c) he crept them out.

(Angel's mother is the sister of the siblings' father).

When Angel moved in, it was around three months after Andrew and Ashley killed Nina, so they were a bit distant from Angel, not wanting him to somehow find out about it. Over time, they got close with him and the three became inseparable. The siblings even helped Angel pick out his name (they wanted to keep the "a" pattern).

Angel is close to both of the siblings, but he does argue with them every now and then despite hating conflict. He isn't a doormat or anything. If there is something happening that Angel doesn't agree with, he will gladly argue against it, but sometimes, he finds himself refusing to argue with Andrew or Ashley in fear of them abandoning him just like his parents did. Angel was escatic when he finally got siblings since he was an only child, and he doesn't want to lose that.

Now Angel's personality can be all over the place at times. He doesn't have a lot of patience with situations or people. He sometimes act without thinking, which gets him into dangerous situations. Angel can have really bad mood swings at times-- he can be extremely happy or content with life for like half the day, but then all of a sudden, he can get really sad. This happens when he thinks about something that has happened to him or overthinks about what could happen. It can get very annoying, especially when he is having a really good day.

When Angel does get in one of his moods, the siblings have different ways of trying to help. Andrew will give him space, but also making sure that Angel knows they both love him. Ashley, being the menace she is, will invade Angel's personal space, giving him a lot of physical affection and surprisingly loving words until Angel either accepts it or snaps at her if it's an especially bad day-- to which he apologizes for later on.

Angel has trouble caring about people he isn't close to. If the people he loves the most are hurt or something, then he would be worried, but if he sees someone he barely cares about-- like a friend from school or even his parents-- crying, he finds it difficult to care. He knows he should care, and it bothers him a bit that he doesn't, but Angel just doesn't care.

It takes him a while to actually care about someone.

Angel doesn't like sleeping. He will stay up for days at a time until he is either forced to go to sleep or faints. This has led to the siblings finding him in the weirdest spots. They get very worried sometimes.

As a child, before he realized he was trans, he would call himself The King and would order the kids on the playground around, which led to the other kids not really liking him.

Speaking about him being trans, Angel didn't start questioning his gender identity until he was fourteen. Before that, he didn't really have any problem being a girl. He wasn't a girly girl or anything-- he did love boyish stuff-- but he didn't have any qualms about dressing feminine or being referred to as a girl. However, as he grew older, he became uncomfortable with all of that. After years of going through different labels, names, and pronouns, he finally settled on Angel, and uses he/him pronouns.

Lastly, he really likes the outside, so when he was in quarantine, it pained him to be stuck inside all day for months.

[anonzentimes]

Hi, this is Zee! Warning: this got long.

So I'm very weird about Kazuichi lol. I headcanon her as a trans girl and tend to use she/her pronouns for her, but I don't do that on other people's posts unless they've said they're okay with it, I know there's people who relate to he/him Kaz too. Anyway, in high school I was very frustrated and could be hyper-defensive about myself and anyone I thought was being bullied, so I felt for Kazuichi putting on a "tough guy" act while being a sensitive kid who just wanted to be loved. I related to the one-sided crush Kaz had on Sonia too, and the jealousy, and the "being seen as 'creepy' because you didn't know the right thing to do + giving people uncanny valley." I really do think it was just neurodivergency and that if Sonia told Kaz it made her uncomfortable, Kaz would have stopped (not blaming Sonia though, and not excusing Kaz either). It felt like Kaz was putting on a cishet act, so I wasn't as shocked at Kaz's last freetime event. I hc'd her as a trans girl for myself bc I wanted to ship her with my teenage self-insert character, and maybe she'd be happier as a girl. I also like not ignoring the Sonia stuff, so I think maybe she likes princesses and the idea of being one.

I also felt for Kaz's loneliness, having trouble with friendships, and related to her a lot in chapter 2 when she kidnapped Nagito. Maybe a little awkward to bring up to a Nagito fan, but I think Kazuichi was *trying* to do the right thing and protect people, and I felt bad for her when the other characters said it was wrong -especially Mahiru, when Mahiru kept saying before that the boys should be doing more to protect the girls, and I think Kazuichi was following that. And, I know Nagito wouldn't deserve this, but when I was a teenager and more impulsive/prone to violence I know I would have challenged Nagito to a fight even if he was taller than me and scared me. Teenage me was frustrated at the injustices of the world and constantly picking fights when I thought someone was a bully and needed to be taught a lesson. I've outgrown that, before turning 18 I calmed down and stopped trying to pick fights.

Also I relate to Kaz's anger management issues and how quick she was to get frustrated and cry, and taking things personally a lot. And the sensory issues with how jumpy she was.

I'm happy that you can connect with Kazuichi so much, it's honestly heart warming to read. Nagito's a scary guy so I can see why Kaz did it even though it's probably not the best way to go about it Lol. I don't do self shipping myself but honestly I don't see why people shit on it so much it's harmless and makes people happy. I don't think I have too much else to add, but I really enjoyed reading thank you for sending! :)

[mandareeboo]

ok now im curious what your most petty thing is (regarding the dp post)

Oooh boy, here we go! Buckle up fuckers this is gonna be a longer one.

My senior year of high school, I took a creative writing class. Partially because I needed to fill the slot, mostly because I wanted to improve my writing (spoiler: I did not). Now, my high school was a three floor building- first was mostly gym, second was general, and the third was senior lockers and art classes. I spent a good chunk of my schedule senior year on the second and third floor, going between an art class to my earth science (I took that one entirely as filler, but also bc I like science) to my locker and so on.

Creative writing? Creative writing was in the fucking basement. Go to the first floor, go to a corner generally used for health and development classes, to another corner, follow a ramp and some stairs, and boom there it is kind of basement. (Side note but this teacher was REALLY into attendance and would get you in trouble if you were late which was really annoying since basically no other class was in that part of the building).

My creative writing teacher wasn't bad, per se. I've had worse teachers. I had an algebra teacher who delighted in making freshman girls cry and mocking them for it. I had a journalism teacher who would use her class time reporting how Hilary was secretly ill during the election. I had a history teacher say trans people weren't real to an openly gender nonconforming student (I didn't know them well enough to ask for specifics on their alignment, but they were using they/them at that point) and set up assignments just to mock students on the take they were told to make. It was more that she was uncreative and took it out on the kids doing creative writing.

She gave us two books to read. Basically “how I write” by published authors. I don’t remember the first one well enough and I donated it ages ago, but the second was Stephen King’s “On Writing”. It was 3/4′s personal stories about his life and 1/4′s “also write a bit every day”.  I mostly remember the first author bc she had those fake dreadlocks white people do when they destroy their hair and she gleefully told a story about making her son have a meltdown at a party or wedding or something bc he got overwhelmed and she wanted him to learn that “sometimes you don’t get what you want”. So. You know. Not much there.

She also instructed us to write in a journal every day, which she would check every few months or so. It had to be at least half a page. She would leave little comments in every one else’s journals when she checked them, but not mine- I realized pretty quickly she was a bit uncomfortable with LGBT+ content, so I made it my mission to make every journal drabble as gay as possible bc I was bored and she couldn’t mark them WRONG when she just stated we needed to write.

But it doesn’t end there! Through the entire class, we got exactly five writing projects. Stories that follow very specific guidelines that we would then read in front of the class, group proofread, and then have the teacher give final grades for. These things were approximately like a thousand words a piece, and I was writing out my 10,000 word “It Starts off Small” story in class when I got bored, so it wasn’t difficult. 

Our first project was a character going through a difficult decision. Or... something? I honestly forget the criteria. Anyway, I was HYPE. I’d had this idea for a long time now a human choosing between peaceful death or reincarnation, and this gave me the push to write it! I had a whole thing planned with death being a deer and reincarnation being a wolpertinger (bc reincarnation leads to many possibilities, ed boy, so a Frankenstein bunny made sense to me). Anyway I poured my heart and soul into this bastard and, bright eyed and bushy tailed, handed it in. My classmates all thought it was pretty good. Not to toot m’own horn, but there was some pretty bad ones going in, so I thought I’d get a solid B or something.

I got a D. I guess the struggle was too metaphorical, or it didn’t perfectly fit her criteria. I was devastated. Then I was mad. Bc I was a bored senior who thought they’d made something pretty decent for this completely optional class and her refusal to see that really hurt me at sixteen (I was always a year younger than my other classmates, so despite being a senior I didn’t turn eighteen until almost a year after graduation)

Well, fuck it, I decided. I’m going to parody the shit out of this class.

Our next project was a fantasy story. I was bitter and grumpy. The other fantasy stories read aloud were stuff like “yeah this dude fought a wizard and got a girl, then they went home and banged” (this was not hyperbole, he would’ve written and read the smut if allowed, I knew him personally) and “this girl that NO ONE UNDERSTOOD was called CRAZY but this S@!$ cheerleader who Stole Her Boyfriend so she killed them all” (fun fact: the girl who wrote that was my age and a sort of half-friend from middle school. She was a yaoi fangirl who didn’t mind lesbians as long as they, you know, didn’t FLIRT with her or something.) 

So I get up there. It’s the last day of presentations. And I present with a polite cheer. My story is about two magical shepherd type figures who are called Sister Brighten and Brother Dick as they chase down a werewolf who was drunk off his ass and accidentally bit someone else. They then revealed they were basically supernatural designated drivers for the whole town. I made Brighten mention that Dick’s name wasn’t even Richard. I titled it “His Favorite Brand is Grayhound”. It fit every single criteria. I got an A. I could tell she didn’t want to, because there was no comments or anything like everyone else’s, but she had to follow her own criteria.

Our third was a conjoined effort thing so I didn’t pull any fuckery there, but the fourth one was about common myths and spinning them into real or fake. One girl did the hook-handed door handle thing and the boyfriend ended up above his truck hanging (somehow???). I think someone did the age-old adage of a haunted wedding dress? I kind of read through those presentations. 

Now, I’m salty-salty at this point. I wasn’t expecting His Favorite Brand is Grayhound to get me a good grade. I half-assed a lot of it. I am in full Not Happy Teenager at this point. I grab a daddy long leg and settle in.

My fourth story of the year is “Paperskin.”

Paperskin is about a boy named Billy with the thinnest skin membrane ever. Just full on body horror. You could see his teeth behind his lips. Billy gets bored one day and wanders out of his house, tries to kick a soccer ball, and breaks a leg. As he’s laying in the grass a daddy long leg bites him- and his skin is so flimsy the fangs sink in and he dies. I’m actually still pretty proud of Paperskin. It’s a horrifying, Edgar Allen Poe of a monstrosity, but it made people squirm, which was the point. The teacher is clearly a bit unnerved at this point, but she gives me another A. 

I wrote a more “normal” story after that of a contentious objector forced to house kids going to see if any confirmed soldier deaths were any of their parents as my final one and I could feel her spite as she gave me a B.

So, yeah. That’s the story of when I tormented my creative writing teacher with The Gays and my weird ass sense of humor after she called one of my best works at that age a piece of shit.

 Here’s a google drive of these bad boys, because yes I do still have these things. I turned these fuckers in for grades, people.

[runephoenix6769]

I also graduated in 99, at 16 years old and like Wayne was bullied mercilessly for being gay (even though I was so far in the closet I had no idea I was gay n wouldn't realise it for another 3 or 4 years.)

Did you read that previous sentence?

Subconsciously, I knew it wasn't safe to be queer so my brain tried to protect itself. I was terrified!

I was called faggot, lemon, pedo, dyke, queer. I was jumped. I was accused of ''staring'' and ''peeking'' at the other girls in the changing rooms, to such a point the gym teacher told me change separately in the toilet, not for my own safety because i made the other girls uncomfortable. I wasn't staring at anyone fyi unless you call the wall a person.

They said they were afraid my lemony ass would sexually assault them if they were left alone with me cause I was a dyke.

I was sexually assaulted by boys, having my bra snapped, tits grabbed, bra undone n it was okay cause I was a dyke. When I reported the numerous times it happened I was told ''boys will be boys'' and ''they fancy you, arent you glad?"

Nobody protected me or stepped in.

And just like Wayne, it became too much and I lost my shit beating the crap out of a girl who had been harassing me for years. I broke that bitch's nose and tossed her round the corridor like a rag doll in front of a crowd of students, who were not cheering for me but the other girl. It took two teachers to pry me off her.

I was punished for it by being put in isolation. She got off scott free.

After that students only jeered at me from a distance n made damn sure they werent in arms reach. It suited me fine. Psycho and crazy got added to the list of names, at that point I didn't care. The only other kid in my year getting bullied any where near what I was, was Graham for being gay.

Next time I saw I kid in the year below me getting stuffed in a locker for being ''queer'' I beat those kids asses and got put in isolation again. (and then my parents beat my ass.)

There were other kids rumoured to be gay in my year but Samantha got off easy cause she was the football star. James and Simon were mocked for being a couple - they were besties and in each others pockets -- but James came from money.

Another girl in school, we'll call her Pam. Pam was ultra feminine, and used to hang with the popular girls. She was small, used to paint n file her nails in class, hair done in what ever fad was running through high school teenage girls at the time -- double pink scrunchies with two dumbass hair loopies like Katara from the water tribe , i think -- roll up her skirt, make up, used to get into trouble for wearing heels etc. When Pam's friends were mocking me, Pam joined in but not as enthusiastically as the others.

The most popular girl, Morgan would tell her group to stop n her bestie from infanthood, Sally would never join in.

You know what I heard recently? Pam is now Paul. Pam performed ultra femininity to hide the fact he was trans because it wasn't safe.

Samantha is married now, as is James. Simon wasn't even gay. Graham is now Greta. The most popular girl, Morgan's bestie, Sally came out. I got talking to her recently, and she told me she knew she was gay in high school thats why she and Morgan never joined in and they used Morgan's popularity to protect her, She knew about another girl Sarah being gay. Sarah said she bullied me cause it meant people wouldn't look at herself too closely.

There were loads of kids in my year who were some form of queer n they were all trying to survive in a place where it wasn't safe to be gay.

So that's why before 99 you rarely heard of trans kids, it wasn't fucking safe AND it wasn't like there was literature or dropin centres or spaces where other trans/queer kids could find information/language to describe their experience safely, and each other.

The internet wasn't what it is today, and it wasn't as if the local library of small rural towns were over flowing with books you could read that talked about the queer experience in a positive light.

In movies and tv shows we were still the villains, the comic relief or being brutally murdered. The AIDS crisis was still fresh in people's memories. Queer was deviant, degenerate, wrong, evil. Queer could get you killed. Living a queer lifestyle meant you would end up dead or miserable and lonely if you were lucky.

So with all that in mind, Heather needs to ask herself again why she never heard of trans/queer kids before 1999, or maybe look up her old classmates. She might be surprised by how many of them are some form of queer now.

I graduated high school in 99.

There was a student at our school named Wayne.

Wayne was gay. It was obvious. He was unable to stay in the closet even if he wanted to. To make matters worse, he was also Black. From a bullying standpoint, that was not a great combo. Both Black and white students made fun of him relentlessly. He was ostracized from the only community that may have given him protection. Only us theater kids stuck up for him, but not to significant effect.

Wayne was bullied so much that at one point he finally snapped and attacked his bullies with a lunch tray. I was actually seated in perfect line of sight and just sat there chewing my soggy fries in stunned silence. It didn't even seem real as I was witnessing it. The image of him wailing on his main bully as the food on his tray flew off is permanently logged into my long term memory.

The bully he attacked had blood all over his face and went straight to the nurse. Other than superficial cuts, he was not injured.

Before the attack, Wayne went to teachers for help. He went to guidance counselors for help. He went to the principals for help.

He did all of the things you were supposed to do. No one helped him. They wagged a finger at the bullies and warned them to stop.

Wayne's lunch tray melee was the only thing that worked. His bullies stayed far away from him. But a week later Wayne was expelled and the bullies were given no punishment.

So... no.

No one in my school talked about being trans.

Because the only way to survive being openly queer was to bash people with a lunch tray.

[keanureevesisbae]

The Tran-Cavill Grandkids

Henry = 79 / Olivia = 70 / Vanessa = 47 / Elodie = 40 / Heather and Chloe are 36

Olivia: We have 8 grandchildren. It has been sixteen years since I first became a grandmother, but I still have to get used to it.

Henry: I love being a granddad. I love everything about it, especially when they all come over and we have seventeen people over.

Oliver (16)

Olivia: Oliver is Chloe’s and Joon Ki’s first son and our oldest grandson. Chloe was still in college and scared out of her mind when she found out she was pregnant. I stayed over in her dorm from her twenty fifth week of pregnancy to the thirtieth, since poor thing was suffering from a lot of panic attacks and because of their different schedules, Joon Ki and her friends couldn’t be there for her. I forgot how disgusting those dorms were. After that, she took online classes, because she was really fatigued and uncomfortable. She stayed at our place again up until the birth.

Henry: When Oliver was born, my life stopped for a moment. I was officially a granddad. I mean, I always knew I wanted to become a father, but a granddad… I never really thought that far into the future. But Oliver is such a wonderful young man. Takes his job as the oldest grandchild very seriously.

Olivia: He comes over a lot, since our house is on the route when he goes home after school. He helps us with some chores or just comes over to drink some tea with us. Oliver even offers to do groceries for us every Saturday.

Dylan (14)

Henry: Dylan is Vanessa’s and Trey’s first son. We were delighted that we were going to be grandparents of two boys. However, it was pretty hard for Vanessa and that absolutely broke my heart. My poor girl was in a lot of pain and discomfort and there was nothing I could do about it.

Olivia: Vanessa became dehydrated pretty early on in her pregnancy, forcing her to quit her job. I actually quit my job too, because I realized that I needed to be there for her. 

Henry: Finally, after all those years of her saying that just because I am rich, doesn’t mean she should stop working. 

Olivia: Anyways, my poor baby was really out of it and I moved in with her and Trey for a while, because they obviously needed to prepare a lot for the arrival of their little boy. So Henry and Trey decorated the entire nursery, while Vanessa and I tried to come up with a birth plan, me telling her about the whole giving birth thing and how scary it can be. We even went to a few therapy sessions, simply to put her mind at ease.

Henry: However, Dylan was born ten weeks too early and it was a trying time for all of us. We spend so much time in the NICU. Thankfully the entire family stepped in to help Vanessa and Trey out. Dylan was a pretty weak baby, also really tiny and had troubles eating. Though he was sick and tired pretty often, he grew out to be such an amazing kid, who understands the limits he has and despite that, still manages to participate in certain sports. We are so proud of him. 

Megan (9)

Olivia: It took five years before Vanessa got pregnant again and thankfully this pregnancy was easier on her. We were so excited when we found out she was pregnant with a little girl! Our first granddaughter. Megan is such a bright young lady. When she was four, she saw a picture of Henry having a tea parties with her aunts when they were around her age. The next time she came over, she brought a dress and her cups and saucers and forced Henry to partake. 

Henry: I thought those days were over, but I’m a push over and I couldn’t say no to her. Megan is such a happy go lucky kid, with the most infectious giggle. I remember when she was a baby, she started to giggle and didn’t stop. Nowadays, she can just stare at you, before bursting out in a fit of giggles. She also forces me to dance with her, but thankfully every Tran-Cavill girl tells her that it’s for the best that I don’t dance.

Jake (8)

Henry: Jake is Chloe’s second second and that is one special kid. He was already dancing in the womb, according to the sonographer. I think he was only two months when I was playing some music in the background and Jake was in his seat. He started to move his arms right on the beat!

Olivia: He is now going to dance classes and I have to say: that kid knows how dance. He can appear to be a bit more introverted, isn’t really in your face when they come over to visit. All in all, he is a pretty timid kid, but the second he hears music or is on a stage, he dances his heart out. So amazingly talented! When he visits, he always gives us little previews of the dances he taught in class. 

Kiki (4)

Henry: Heather was never the type of woman that dated. She was always more focused on her own career. It did shock me when she told us that she got pregnant and that she had to tell her boyfriend about it, since we all had no clue that she was even dating someone. Not even her own twin sister knew! 

Olivia: What a fucking doorknob that guy was. Heather wanted me to join her, when she would tell this Tom dude she was pregnant. Turns out she really is a daughter of mine, because she found herself a man that is the spitting image of Wesley, appearance wise and personality wise. He got so mad when she told him and even had the audacity to tell Heather that she got knocked up by someone else. He really wasn’t hiding the fact that he was an idiot, because he told my sweet Heather all that, when I was right next to her! Long story short, I broke them up, slapped Tom in the face and threatened to kill him if he ever sought out to her or the baby.

Henry: That’s my girl.

Olivia: But Heather is a real trooper and manages to take care of Kiki just fine. Thankfully we love her dearly and didn’t kick her out, because she got pregnant out of wedlock (like my parents and brothers did). We are the go to baby sitter for Kiki and it’s so much fun to pick her up from school. It reminds me of the times that we would pick up our own girls from school.

Henry: Kiki is such a happy go lucky little girl. She is a ray of sunshine and we are so lucky and grateful that she is in our lives and that that idiot Tom is not. I fear the day that I run into him, because I will throw him in front of a bus. Accidentally of course.

Olivia: Henry, honey, remember: you’re nearing the ripe age of eighty. What if you break a hip or your wrist?

Lewis (14)

Olivia: So, Katie, Elodie’s wife, used to teach English in Secondary school, but after she lost her job, since her school had to close, she became a substitute for three months at another school. That’s where she met nine year old Lewis. According to her, he was a shy kid, but every day after school, he’d linger around the classroom and talked to Katie. He would help her out with cleaning up, make his homework and often they would walk out of the school together.

Henry: Unfortunately she had to leave after three months and according to her, it was pretty hard leaving Lewis. Two weeks after she left the school, she got a call in the middle of the night. The principal of that school informed her that Lewis was removed from his home by the police. The neighbors called it in, since they heard the abuse going on. Later on, it turned out that Lewis was the victim of abuse on a daily basis. He lingered in Katie’s class room to postpone the moment of going home to his father. He was in desperate need of someone who would take him into emergency foster care.

Olivia: However the only person he wanted to stay with, was Katie, so she and Elodie took him in. It was supposed to be for a week, but a week turned into a month and after a nasty trial, they officially adopted Lewis on his tenth birthday!

Henry: I remember him coming over for the first time. Maybe it was a bit mean to let him meet everyone at once, but despite his nerves, he managed quite well. Now we know Lewis as such a hardworking young man, who desperately tries to help others and makes sure that they can reach their full potential.  

Stella (8)

Olivia: Elodie and Katie got into foster care a whole lot more seriously after they adopted Lewis and three years ago, they had to foster Stella, who had lost both of her parents in a tragic accident and there wasn’t anyone that could care for her. I remember Elodie and Katie having a bit of trouble with Stella, because she would lock herself up in her room and not talk to anyone.

Henry: It was hard, but Lewis swooped right in and the two of them had such long conversations. I think it was because of him that Stella opened up to her moms, but also to the rest of the family. She and Lewis are definitely partners in crime. She is quite something. Very mischievous and sneaky. She loves to scare people, hiding behind doors, but she doesn’t do it to us (thankfully), because she is afraid will scare ourselves a heart attack. So considerate. 

Olivia: In a lot of ways she reminds me of Vanessa. She is very eloquent and uses fancy words to throw you off guard. I love taking her out with me, because, just like Vanessa, she “whispers" something to you (most likely she’s gossiping), but the people she is talking about, can always hear it. I know I shouldn’t condone this, but I love the faces of the people when they hear Stella say: ‘Grandma, why is that woman wearing those shoes? The straps are too tight. She looks like a ham.’

Henry: You allow that? You should discipline her.

Olivia: I have been raising kids since I was twenty three and I always made sure to discipline them. Now that I’m a grandma, I can let it slide for a few times.

Charlotte (2)

Henry: And last but not least, little Charlotte. They fostered her since she was a year and officially adopted her six months ago. We don’t know exactly what happened to her, since she was abandoned at around nine months. No one actually knows what her exact age is, let alone her birthday. 

Olivia: It’s such a shame that something this horrendous could happen to such a precious little bean. She is, despite the things that happened to her, a lovely young girl, who kind of reminds me a lot of Elodie. A bit shy, a bit quiet and not a smiler.

Henry: Definitely not a smiler to strangers at all, but when she does… She’s so precious. Lewis and Stella are really good with her as well. These two were made to be older siblings. I can’t wait to see what kind of girl Charlotte becomes!

◎◎◎

Olivia: We are so blessed with our beautiful grandchildren and it’s my goal to become at least a hundred years old, so I can see every single one of them at least graduate!

Henry: And I want to hold my great-grandchild, so yeah, I agree, my love. We should become at least a hundred years old.

Taglist: @thelastsock​ // @flhorah​ // @sausagefest1996​ // @laufeysodinson​ // @xxxkatxo​ // @memoriesat30​ // @henrythickcavill​ // @crimsonrae​ // @henryobsessed // @madbaddic7ed​ // @summersong69​ // @lyrafraiser​ // @peakygroupie​ // @coldmuffinbanditshoe​ // @mary-ann84​ // @thereisa8ella​ //@crazyandanonymous4u // @xuxszx​ // @emmaofgreengabbles​ // @jimmypagesandbrianmayshair​ // @onlyhenrys // @omgkatinka​ // @oddsnendsfanfics​ // @speakerforthedead0 // @agniavateira // @gearhead66 // @chamomilebottom // @diegos-butt // @yoyoanaria // 

[supercasey]

More Info on Scout’s Brothers in my Interpretation of Them

From working on my latest TF2 fic, I’ve been getting even more invested in my interpretations of Scout’s brothers than I was back when I wrote “Jeremy” last month, so here’s more information on them, including their appearances, who their spouses end up being later on in life, and their kids (if they have any).

(Putting this under a readmore for the sake of literally everyone)

((Tumblr, please don’t fuck this up for mobile readers. If it does end up looking like crap, I’ll make a Google Doc for this.))

Name: Grant Grayson-Kennedy Jr. Age: 34 (11 years older than RED Scout) Gender: Cisgender Man Sexuality: Bisexual Hair Color: Dark Brown Eye Color: Grey Their Mother: Rebecca “Becky” Kennedy Their Father: Grant Grayson Sr. Their S/O: Amelia O’Malley (36) Their Children: Lauren Grayson-Kennedy (8), Kara Grayson-Kennedy (6), Rupert Grayson-Kennedy (4.5), Timothy Grayson-Kennedy (2) Occupation: Air Force Veteran/Lawyer Personality: The family peacekeeper. Probably the most pragmatic of his siblings (though he’s still quite the fighter), Grant has been helping his mom out with his brothers from almost the very beginning, becoming more helpful as more kids were born. He’s a family man, and adores his family to bits, doing almost anything to keep them safe. Was actually considered as a possible recruit by The Administrator, but she decided to not hire him in the end, as he seemed too wise to be manipulated.

Name: Timothy Grayson-Kennedy Age: 32 (9 years older than RED Scout) Gender: Cisgender Man Sexuality: Homosexual Hair Color: Dark Brown Eye Color: Dark Brown Their Mother: Rebecca “Becky” Kennedy Their Father: Grant Grayson Sr. Their S/O: Duke Hammond (32) Their Children: Sarah Kennedy-Hammond (3), Jeremy Kennedy-Hammond (1) Occupation: Cartoonist Personality: The family heart. The most gentle of his brothers, Timmy is especially close with Jeremy and Grant. Kinda nervous about being a father, but with his childhood best friend turned lover at his side, he isn’t quite as scared anymore. Stays in contact with his siblings well enough, but tends to lose track of events/announcements due to living all the way in California. Doesn’t approve of mercenary work in general.

Name: Jacob Grayson-Kennedy Age: 31 (8 years older than RED Scout) Gender: Cisgender Man Sexuality: Heterosexual Hair Color: Light Blond Eye Color: Light Blue Their Mother: Rebecca “Becky” Kennedy Their Father: Grant Grayson Sr. Their S/O: None Their Children: Ana Grayson-Kennedy (3), Mia Grayson-Kennedy (3) Occupation: Freelance Guitarist Personality: The family sword. Was always pretty rough ‘n tumble even when compared to his brothers, so he got into a lot of trouble alongside Malcolm when he was a teen. Finally cleaned up his act when a one-night-stand resulted in him having twin daughters, who he loves dearly and has sole custody of. Has a better relationship with Arthur now that they’re adults, and actually lives with him in downtown Boston.

Name: Arthur Grayson-Kennedy Age: 31 (8 years older than RED Scout) Gender: Cisgender Man Sexuality: Pansexual Hair Color: Dark Blond Eye Color: Dark Blue Their Mother: Rebecca “Becky” Kennedy Their Father: Grant Grayson Sr. Their S/O: Markus Browning (29) Their Children: None Occupation: Carpenter Personality: The family shield. Not quite as mellow as Timmy is, but he’s pretty damn close in terms of general kindness towards his family and friends. Has struggled in the past to find his calling, but he loves his job in carpentry, and loves that he gets to live with his twin and nieces! Has an on and off boyfriend who he keeps a secret from the family, as he’s nervous to come out as pan, even though Timmy’s been out as gay for a few years now.

Name: Patrick Walsh-Kennedy Age: 30 (7 years older than RED Scout) Gender: Cisgender Man Sexuality: Heterosexual Hair Color: Black Eye Color: Brown Their Mother: Rebecca “Becky” Kennedy Their Father: Terrence Walsh Their S/O: Felicity Homer (28) Their Children: None Occupation: Hairdresser Personality: The family shadow. He’s never liked being in the spotlight, even when he was young and into street brawls. Was beaten by his bio dad a lot as a kid, so he’s fairly skittish as a result; jumps at loud noises and has claustrophobia. Still checks in on the family every once in awhile, but he prefers to stay with his GF in relative solitude. Loves his job so much, even if it does involve being social sometimes.

Name: Malcolm Walsh-Kennedy Age: 27 (4 years older than RED Scout) Gender: Cisgender Man Sexuality: Heteromantic Asexual Hair Color: Black Eye Color: Brown Their Mother: Rebecca “Becky” Kennedy Their Father: Terrence Walsh Their S/O: Dolores Jamison Their Children: Luke Kennedy-Jamison (5) Occupation: Wrestler Personality: The family instigator. Was by far the most reckless and violent of his brothers (yes, even more so than Jacob), which led to him getting arrested a number of times in his teens. Is trying to turn his life around, but it’s hard for him. After he found out that Jeremy is a mercenary, he flipped his lid, and he’s still pissed at him about it. Loves his son, his wife, his mama, his brothers, and that’s about it tbh.

Name: Curtis Walsh-Kennedy Age: 26 (3 years older than RED Scout) Gender: Cisgender Man Sexuality: Bisexual Hair Color: Dark Blond Eye Color: Blue Their Mother: Rebecca “Becky” Kennedy Their Father: Terrence Walsh Their S/O: None Their Children: None Occupation: BLU Scout Personality: The family drifter. Spent a lot of his childhood teasing Jeremy and trying to be his mom’s favorite, neither of which worked in his favor. His mom still loves him of course, but he’s not the favorite (no one is). He drifted for a long while after high school, struggling to land a job, before he was hired to join BLU team as their Scout. Now he continues teasing Jeremy as an adult, which leads to a lot of matches turning into Scout vs Scout fights.

Name: Jeremy Kennedy Age: 23 Gender: Transgender Man Sexuality: Pansexual Hair Color: Brown Eye Color: Baby Blue Their Mother: Rebecca “Becky” Kennedy Their Father: Jeffery REDACTED Their S/O: None Their Children: None Occupation: RED Scout Personality: The family runt. He tried so hard to keep up with his brothers as a kid, but was always told to not play as rough due to him being FTM. After coming out to the family as a man, and living on his own for awhile, he’s become even closer to his brothers than he was before, save for maybe Curtis, who he fights with every time they see each other. He knows Curtis is the BLU Scout and constantly teases him for losing so often to RED, which leads to even more fights between them. (I should note that I don’t characterize Jeremy as transgender in the Kids AU, mostly because I think he’d be too young to come out, and seeing as I don’t want to write him as a “girl” for the entirety of the AU... he can be trans in that AU if you want him to be, but I feel uncomfortable writing such a young child as being trans, so do with that what you will.)

Information on the dads!

Grant Grayson Sr.: Grant, Timothy, Jacob, and Arthur’s dad. He was a well respected man when he was alive, and actually had a decent relationship with Becky for the most part, but it became more strained when he left for war after the twins were born. About a year into his military service, Grant was killed in action, leaving Becky a widow. She loved him, but after his death, she accepted the fact that it wouldn’t have lasted forever with him, though she still misses him sometimes.

Terrence Walsh: Patrick, Malcolm, and Curtis’s dad. He tried hooking up with Becky the minute Grant was shipped overseas, but she always turned him down, as she was married and not a cheater. After Grant’s death though, he swooped in and convinced Becky to start going out with him, leading to Patrick’s birth and a second marriage for Becky. Unfortunately, Terrance was a real POS, and he routinely beat the kids as well as Becky. He was assassinated a few weeks after Curtis was born by Spy, freeing Becky of his abuse.

Jeffery REDACTED: The RED Spy/Jeremy’s dad. He met Becky while she was still stuck in an abusive marriage with Terrence, and soon after they met, Becky begged for his help in getting rid of her husband so she and kids could finally be safe. Feeling bad for the mother, Spy did just that, killing Terrence and making it look like an accident. Afterwards he planned on going on his merry way, but Becky convinced him to stay in her home while he waited for more work to roll in. During this time, they fell in love, and he soon married her (though it was an under the table sort of deal, where he also took on her last name), and after a year or so of marriage, Becky became pregnant with Jeremy. Unfortunately for Spy, people were after him, so he had to leave the family behind, but he’s still technically married to Becky, and she refuses to date anyone in his absence.

And that’s what I’ve got! Btw, I chose the last name “Kennedy” for the family based on the quote “You’ve got the luck of a Kennedy!” since I headcanon that Scout’s Mom has been through a lot, and in turn so have all of her children in one way or another. The family’s unlucky, but at least they’ll always have each other! Feel free to ask me questions about the family if you have any.

[clarawatson]

Give us some book or poetry recommendations, Please.

This ask has blessed me 💖💖. This is also a long post, promise I'll put it under 'read more' once I turn on my laptop

Hmm let us see. I'll try to get my finger into every pie.

🌸poetry🌸

I am very white in my poetry consumption, I admit this. (And very limited, poetry confuses me) so I'll give you 2 categories: ones that inspired my Quiet Birds AU and poems I know my friends enjoyed).

Quiet Birds Inspo:

Do Not Stand At My Grave and Weep (Mary Elizabeth Frye) ~ I read this in highschool and it ended up in every book I own. (Genuinely. It's in my art book of all places).

Caged Bird (Maya Angelou) ~ I just love this poem tbh.

Poems my friends enjoyed:

The Love Song of Alfred J Prufrock (T.S.Eliot) - "the poem gay, kids" is the note I have at the bottom of my notes on that poem.

Poetry (Marianne Moore) -- it's a poem about hating poetry.

Mary Szybist's Incarnadine -- this is an anthology I did not enjoy but my friends did.

🌸books🌸

Thriller(s):

Gone Girl (Gillian Flynn)-- even if you've watched the movie or know spoilers, this book is a treat. It is so well done.

The Cry (Helen Fitzgerald) -- it's only small (307 pages!) But if you're interested in original work vs TV adaptation I highly recommend watching the 4 part mini series and reading the book, it's interesting how the two approach Joanna (I'm inclined more towards TV Joanna).

History based dystopian(s):

The Handmaid's Tale (Margaret Atwood) -- i had to make sure I was in a good headspace to read this (it has some very heavy topics and I would NEVER tell anyone they had to read it, it made me very uncomfortable) but I am grateful i did.

The Natural Way of Things (Charlotte Wood) -- is a modern day take on Women's Prisons or "reformation centres" those places for ""troubled girls"" (y'know, they had sex, lock them away) very arty but very good and makes you think!!

Queer Young Adult:

Amelia Westlake Was Never Here (Erin Gough) -- two lesbians take down homophobic, racist and sex offending teachers via an allias in the school paper and accidentally fall in love.

Her Royal Highness (Rachel Hawkins) -- falling in love with royalty at a Scottish boarding school only it's lesbian.

~Queer~:

To be taught, if fortunate (Becky Chambers) -- novella!! 134 pages!! an astronaut sends back her final letter to earth, not knowing if anyone survived. Incredibly diverse, has everything. (A pansexual MC and a trans biologist and an understanding the whole ship is poly?? So good)

Red, White & Royal Blue (Casey McQuinston) -- the president's son falls in love with the prince of England. Has quite explicit smut sometimes, wouldn't recommend reading anywhere someone can read over you shoulder.

Fantasy:

Stardust (Neil Gaiman) -- again, another one that isn't spoiled by knowing the movie or the book. Both stand alone perfectly.

Four Dead Queens (Astrid Scholte) -- this book was incredible. It's got a bad rep on goodreads because two of the dead Queens are queer (not a spoiler) but it's genuinely a good book (i, a queer, say so) and pulls off its plot twists effortlessly and always has you looking in the wrong direction.

Children's fantasy:

Strangeworlds Travel Agency (L.D. Lapinski) -- 11 year old girl and her new 18 year old friend pretend they're in Doctor Who via suitcases and there's a bunch of canonical queers.

Nevermoor (Jessica Townsend) -- you gotta fight through that first 200 pages (it works really hard at NOT being Harry Potter) and then it comes into itself. Townsend was also very quick to speak out against Rowling (also evident in source material that constantly has people pulled up for being mean, and calls out human rights violations, also Queer characters).

YA Fantasy:

The Medoran Chronicles (Lynette Noni) -- 5 book fantasy series featuring female protagonist. I only read them last year, they're brilliant. First book kind of reads like Harry Potter fanfic but it does not continue in that direction.

Authors i would just recommend in general:

Patrick Ness

John Flanagan

Lynette Noni

If you're looking for something more visual:

Illuminae (Amie Kaufman and Jay Kristoff) -- it's a compilation of ship blue prints, emails, chat logs, classified files, debrief interviews, transcripts and security footage. Such a good book.

Favourite text(s) I studied:

Dracula (Bram Stoker) -- my best friend bought me a collectors edition for my birthday because I ruined my first edition when I read it at the Gardens and it started raining.

Animals People (indra sinha) -- a fictionalised account of the Bhopal Disaster, meant to draw attention towards it.

Swallow the Air (Tara June Winch) -- May sets out the find her Aboriginal identity while her family falls apart after her mothers death.

[toogayforthistoday]

hey gabe! can i ask 2, 4, and 9 from the selfship au asks :0???

Hey Benji! Of course you can!

2. Do they prefer selfshipping by inserting themselves into your source,  or by daydreaming about you in their own little / personal world, or by  imagining you by their side during their daily life?   

I think Hiei and Husk would daydream about their own personal worlds, and Hitoshi and Dabi would imagine me by their sides in their day-to-day lives.

4. Do they spend more time on wikipedia, on your fandom wiki, on your TV tropes page? Looking for official content they might’ve missed, like fun trivia? Looking for fanart, for fics? Looking for information and details and references for fics or art or other fancontent they’re making because they want to make sure they get everything right? 

Hiei would just re-read my source over and over and over again, trying to memorize everything.

Dabi would have like 6 tabs permanently open to my wiki pages, and Ao3 (FF.Net and what’s left of LiveJournal if he’s really desperate that day)

Husk would be looking for fanart, and has like 4 different forum threads dedicated to finding my merch.

And Hitoshi would constantly be looking at references so he can ‘do me justice’ in his artwork (Artist Hitoshi is canon and I will DIE ON THIS HILL-)

9. If you have multiple f/os (romantic, platonic, anything), imagine them making or joining a Discord server or a group chat about you or your source. Who gushes, who shares art and fics, who analyses everything, who sends memes? 

Hmmm...

Dabi, Loki, Hancock, MacCready, and McCree all gush, will just not shut up about me

Compress saw me chop all my hair off at the start of the High School arc and just went “That Kid’s Trans.” Half the server nodded in agreement, the other half weren’t too sure, but still liked his headcanon. High School arc ends and the canon is Trans, and now everyone is either convinced Compress is friends with the author, or is the author.

Husk, Eddie, Varric and Lambert all write x Readers. Varric writes full on smut novels, and the server is still in disbelief that Varric fucking Tethras, a published author, is on this server writing smut about me. If you’re interested, and you pay for printing costs and delivery fees, he will send you a signed hardcover copy of his fics. Lambert writes fluff, but everyone on the server thinks he’s a girl, because he uses a pen name. Eddie writes slice of life drabbles. Husk will absolutely take all the kinky, raunchy requests. Dabi keeps enabling him, and keeps introducing him to more and more kinks to write. But Husk keeps accidentally posting the smut in the wrong channels when he’s drunk, so if he does it again, he’s getting banned. “Seriously dude, there are kids on this server!” Lambert’s a mod.

Hitoshi shares all of his art on the server, and actually streams some of his progress. He’s one of the more popular artists in the fandom. His little sister, Eri, is also a fan, and Hitoshi shares her artwork with the server as well. There have been multiple group voice calls with Eri telling her that her artwork is amazing.

Hiei and Sesshomaru are fans who are really uncomfortable sharing their f/o, so have not joined the server. But they’ve seen Hitoshi’s work, and are big fans.

Compress, Regis and Roadhog regularly get together to analyze what might happen next in my canon, and posit ‘what if’ scenarios to each other

Alistair, Garrus, Aizawa, Mordecai, Maya, Isabella, and Nemuri all get in trouble constantly for accidentally starting roleplays in the wrong channels

Dabi, Hitoshi, Deku, Toga, Spinner, Shigaraki, Yusuke, Kuwabara, Gaige, Garrus, and Vetra are all memeing shitlords.

...Oops that got long, my bad!

~ Gabe

[punchholesinthesky]

I didn't know you could just be a boy

I was listening to a podcast today, about a girl who stood up to her parents at the tender age of four and told them that she was a girl and that she'd chosen a name. I'm in awe of this little girl being so damn sure of herself. I got super emotional listening to it and it got me thinking about my own childhood. It was NPR’s radio ambulante, the episode called “yo nena”.

I knew I was different from a young age but I didnt know how.

I just felt it. And probably cause I visited a lot of doctors and i guess most kids don't do that?

I learned that my brain was different but not the details. I had some vague notion of being adhd. I would not learn it until much later by googling different developmental disorders and learning about being neurodivergent and autistic.

I would later on go on to learn I was queer too, and though I had read the word genderqueer once and thought it fit, I hadn't given it much thought.

I was assigned female at birth, and though I have never liked it, I thought I was stuck with it, that I just had to make the best of it.

I remember wishing to be a boy so many times. Identifiying with male characters, creating ocs and alter-egos, acting the male parts (it was an all-girls school, someone had to), and begging mum to let me cut my hair short, and being so happy when people thought I was a boy.

I never liked traditionally female things, never had a barbie, hated dresses (there's still a photo of a tiny grumpy me being forced into a dress one of my grandmas gave me) and my school uniform was trousers 99% of the time. The other 1% was like official acts, maybe the first and last day of school, stuff like that. I hated it, but at an all-girls catholic school I had much biggers issues that complaining about wearing a skirt a few days out of the year. I remember the gym uniform being a problem. Not sure what the problem was. Something about tights maybe?

I never felt like a girl. But it wasn't something I could properly explain so when I tried to talk about it, with my parents or friends what they usually got out of it was the usual self-steem issues of any girl. Mum tried to help by helping me choose new clothes, telling me how good I looked. And trying to get me to be more feminine, teaching me about 'girly stuff',

But that wasn't it. I understand it better now .

See, it's not that I have self-steem issues about my appearance. I know I'm conventionally good

looking. And if I gave 1/10 of a fuck I can be a very hot girl. I have photos of pasts attempts to prove it. But it never felt right. It never felt like me.

I can put on a bikini and I'm young, thin, fit, I'll look good. But that doesn't mean I'll like what I see in the mirror. I don't feel uncomfortable because I think the person in the mirror looks bad but because I don't know who that is.

I feel exposed. Vulnerable. Bikinis are uncomfortable by design, meant to exploit feminine bodies and for someone who's already uncomfortable having one? A bloody nightmare.

And there's a lot of understand. Why the hell am I being punished for the crime of having a female body by being constantly uncomfortable ? Why are clothes so terrible? Why is so hard to find something basic and decent? Why are bras the worst?? On and on and on. questions I never got the answer to. So much confusion about girl stuff that every other girl i knew seemed capable of navigating.

For a long time I blamed it on me being weird (ie, neurodivergent)

Like, all my friends started caring about boys, parties, romance, alcohol and drugs.

I'd always struggle in school and one year I got literally left behind.

I struggled with depression. I tried hard to fit in and be like them. I tried to be normal, followed their strange rituals. I let my hair grow out, i went on dates with boys, I drank too much and made out with strangers. I got into trouble. I wore a dress to my graduation and invited a boy I'd been talking to.

It was one of the few times I wore a dress voluntarily. Another one was a christmas dinner. And a new year's party. I also wore a skirt to dress up as kate bishop. That's about all I recall. I did buy a dress to cosplay clara oswald but never did it.

I wonder, what if I had told my parents I was a boy and I wanted to be treated like one before? How would they have reacted ?

Laughed it off probably. As they did when I pretended to be a boy for a game as I often did.

I can't imagine them taking it seriously, even now.

I don't know when I found out trans people existed, or who was the first one I heard about.

But I do know I thought it meant you like hated your body or yourself and wanted to be totally different.

And that didnt fit me. I had never hated myself. I hated how the world treated me. I hated arbitrary rules based on gender.

My scout group was mixed-gender, but we were divided in troops and these were single-gender and divided by age.

But we all learned the same things. Whether it was building a fire, tracking, or cooking, we got the same lessons. Sometimes we competed and we slept/bathed separately.

In TECHO it was all mixed-gender. Well, except bathing, but often we'd shared the same bathroom. We slept, cooked, and worked together.

And nobody ever looked down on girls as 'the weaker sex'

That was cool.

My actual education was the opposite. Academically, it is better for a school to be all-girls, at least for girls. But socially, not so much.

As a teenager, I hadn't quite forgotten how much I wanted to be a boy as a kid, but idk I thought I had left it behind me. That what I craved was freedom, independence, the benefits of being a boy, not actually being one.

Later I would discover terms like 'internalized misogyny' and think that was the problem. Cause I liked Lucy and Arya, not Susan and Sansa.

Yet here I stand, years later. Having done a lot  of work. Recognising the value of Susan and Sansa. Appreciating Peggy Carter, in a gay and feminist way, and still not wanting to be a girl.

It just doesn't fit me. It's not a rejection.

I'm a feminist. I think women are great.

I understand there are many ways to be one.

That I don't have to be feminine to be one.

And yet, it just doesn't feel right.

After I learned of what 'gender dysphoria' was I though, 'oh I can't be trans I don't have that'

And then, I learned about 'gender euphoria'

And that finally opened my eyes

Trying to be a girl always felt like an ill-fitting costume, no matter how hard I tried. Like I was playing a part and didn't know my lines.

I remember cutting my hair short, like kstew, and going WOW upon seeing my reflection.. I looked more like myself than I had in ages.

I bought different clothes. Boy's clothes. I'm too small for men's clothes but I can fit just fine in clothes meant for 12 years old boys.

I cut my hair, put on new clothes, bought tight sport bras, and when I looked in the mirror, I wasn't sure who the person staring back was but I really liked how he looked.

My parents, for ages, tried to get me to 'dress nicer' to 'act like a lady' and so on. I cared enough to shower and put on clean clothes. I bought a lot of nerdy shirts which I at least liked. Did some experiments. Occasionally I'd make an effort but otherwise I was pretty basic. Loose-fitting jeans and hoodies.

Family kept gifting me nicer girly things I'd wear once and often ignored later.

It wasn't till I gave myself permission to truly dress how I wanted, and yes to shop in the boy's/men's section that I started to actually care about how I looked and putting more effort in.

I never thought I could be a boy, because I didn't know that was a thing you could do.

if I had been like that little girl and said 'i'm a boy' I think they'd havebeen at a total loss.

would they have asked my shrink? What would he have said?? It felt as though they were always on my case to be more lady-like but I know that's unfair. They were generally pretty okay with me being a tomboy, at least until puberty. And even then it was never that huge a thing. More of a constant annoying issue. There were many more pressing ones.

It's 2019, and I bet most parents would still be at a loss. There's not exactly a lot of rep or info.

I'm a lot happier with how I look now, but I still haven't found the right words to explain myself to my parents. I know I have to eventually, I want to stop hiding, to be visible, to change my name.

[themangledsans0508]

Sleepover Surprises

Tweek approached the pale green house cautiously, clinging the straps of his bags tightly. He didn’t know why he agreed to this, he could be doing anything else tonight. Instead, he was sleeping over at Wendy Testaburger’s house, most likely to be pressed about the details of his relationship. At least it wouldn’t be just the two of them, the New Kid (who’s name he still didn’t know) would also be there.

He liked Wendy well enough, along with Douche-bag, he just got rather stressed when it came to sleepovers, and Wendy could convince anyone to divulge their deepest secrets. Douche-bag, on the other hand, preferred to keep to himself, nobody really knew anything about him, but Wendy trusted the two of them to let them sleepover at her house.

He knocked on the door, hoping that no one would answer and he could just go home, or maybe go to Craig’s house. Alas, no such thing happened, and a tall man answered the door.

“Yes?” He recognized the man as Wendy’s father, confirming he was at the right house.

“Wendy invited me over for a sleepover,” he said, twitching slightly.

“She’s upstairs in her room with some other kid.” He motioned him inside. Tweek looked around the house as he made his way up the stairs. He heard laughter and muffled talking and followed it to Wendy’s room. He knocked first to be polite and not walk in on something he didn’t want to see.

“Come in!” Wendy called. Tweek slowly opened the door and inspected the room.

The room was a soft pink, with a yellow rim around the bottom that looked like clouds. There were flower and animal decals all around, and a few posters. The floor had a teal circle rug with a red bean bag chair and an orange lounge chair. There was also a pink desk and the bed had purple blankets on it.

Wendy and Douche-bag sat on the floor, nail polish spread out between them. There were lots of different shades of pink and purple on display, along with other colors that had not been taken out of the basket yet. Wendy’s nails were painted rose pink, and the pair was currently applying lilac polish to Douche-bag's nails.

“Hey, Tweek! Come sit down! We don’t have to paint your nails, but Willow doesn’t have any nail polish at home so we’re doing them now!”

“Willow? That’s your name?” Tweek asked and Willow nodded. “That’s a pretty weird name for a boy.” Wendy scanned him.

“She’s not a boy, Tweek,” she informed him. Tweek blinked a few times.

“Why didn’t you tell us, dude?” Willow shifted uncomfortably. There were some soft words exchanged between Wendy and Willow before she spoke.

“I’ve lost friends because of it. Before I moved here to South Park. Here, I got jumped by rednecks,” she said quietly. 

“That’s one of the reasons I asked you two to a sleepover. Besides just wanting to hang out, because we have to hang out before you can call me ‘girlfriend’ Tweek, you don’t have those privileges yet. But, you’re both LGBT.” Tweek nodded. He’d heard that acronym before, specifically with Mr Mackey and PC Principal. Neither had really explained what it meant, however.

“I’ve heard that before. What does it mean?” Tweek questioned. Wendy looked at him in surprise.

“You’re not really in the gay community much online, are you? And nobody told you either, Jesus. It’s lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender. There’s also a plus, which incorporates the rest of the community. Since we now have two fully out kids and one partially out, plus at least five I can name who are in the closet, plus myself, I think we should have a pride alliance at our school.”

“What’s a pride alliance?”

“A group for LGBT people so they can support each other, participate in activism, and educate people. Because you guys know that a lot of kids in our school, even LGBT kids, make homophobic and trans-phobic jokes or just know nothing about any of it. Tweek, for a lot of kids, you and Craig were the first gay people they’ve ever met. With Mr Garrison gone, Big Gay Al and Mr Slave keeping to themselves, and Ned and Jimbo running a gun shop and just seeming like your average rednecks. Willow, you’re the first transgender person almost everyone in town has met. We need to raise awareness. Willow, you’ve already told me about some things people have said to and about you.”

Tweek looked at Willow, who was looking away from the group and carefully pulling at the rug so she didn’t ruin her nails. She looked embarrassed like she was ashamed that she had been harassed. 

“What was said to you?” Tweek asked gently.

“You know, like, people called me a tranny, called me a ‘thing’, and said I’m not a real girl because I have a dick. Stuff like that, it’s fine,” she said quietly. Tweek would have never guessed that someone who faced a literal eldritch monster could be so shy. 

“It’s not fine, sis. These things aren’t okay. I know some of these people might be your friends, but it’s still not okay.” Wendy placed a hand on her shoulder in a reassuring gesture with a soft smile on her face.

“Tweek, you and I have heard lots of bad things about gay people in our school. A lot from Cartman, but a lot from other people too.” Tweek nodded, he’d heard a lot of things. Probably the only reason nobody went after him was that he was dating Craig Tucker and that they both had gotten into fights and could hold their own. Plus, Craig was a respected person in their school as someone who didn’t take shit.

“Okay, so I think we need a pride alliance, do you guys agree?” Wendy looked to them for a genuine response. Both Willow and Tweek nodded.

“Great! With that out of the way, now we can really just hang out!” Wendy waved her hands excitedly. 

“Tweek, do you want your nails painted?” Wendy asked. Tweek hesitated. He wanted to try it again as himself and not a metro-sexual, but he didn’t want to break the barrier that kept him safe from ridicule.

He decided fuck it if anyone wanted to cause trouble him or Craig could deal with it.

“Sure, why not!” Tweek grinned. Maybe it would help him stop picking at his nails. Wendy started filing through her containers of polish. She and Willow exchanged words that Tweek couldn’t hear due in part to the clinking of glass. Willow looked him over and whispered to Wendy. Wendy paused for a moment and looked up at Tweek.

“We can do any color you want, but we recommend green or blue. Green compliments your usual outfit, while blue highlights your eyes,” Wendy suggested.

Tweek debated the options. He’d rather not do a different color since he didn’t really know much about fashion and things going together, he wanted to understand it first. Green was his favorite color, but blue was Craig’s favorite color. He decided green, he’d do blue next time.

“Green,” he said. Tweek watched Wendy take out different shades of green and Willow inspect them. After about ten rejected shades, Willow showed one to Wendy. Wendy nodded and turned to Tweek.

“What do you think about this shade? It’s pastel.” Tweek looked at the color. It was only a bit darker than some of the other shades and he didn’t know how they had decided on this specific one.

“Whatever you guys think, you’re the experts,” he shrugged. 

“Well then give me your hand, I’m steadier than Willow since she’s new.” Wendy held his wrist tightly so he wouldn’t twitch and mess up her work while Willow watched.

“You said Willow’s new, well how long have you been painting nails, Willow?” he asked. She counted on her fingers.

“About two weeks, since I only started after we stopped playing with that damned stick. And that’s also when my dad let me start using it.” Tweek recognized her tone of voice. It was the same one he used when he talked to Craig about his parents, one of sadness and bitterness. He wanted to show he understood where she was coming from.

“The only reason my parents accepted me was that it would be good for their business, not because I was their son,” Tweek said bitterly. 

“Guys, I hate to break it to you, but your parents are terrible,” Wendy interrupted. Tweek looked at Wendy with a scowl that wasn’t directed at her.

“You have no idea,” he muttered. 

Willow didn’t say anything, instead, she checked her nails to make sure she hadn’t accidentally smudged the lilac. He noticed Wendy debating something in her head and wondered if he should ask her about it. However, Wendy focused on Tweek’s nails again and he figured she had decided not to say anything.

“Wendy,” Tweek said, “that wasn’t the only real reason you invited us here, right?” Wendy shook her head.

“No, I wanted to hang out, and-” she got a mischievous grin on her face, “ask how your boyfriend is.” Tweek laughed.

“I thought that was a reason.”

“Can you blame her? I had to get you two back together.” Willow said.

“There’s that voice of yours!” Wendy wrapped her arm around Willow’s shoulder and squeezed. 

“Well, I really love your relationship, it’s healthy and it’s a good example of how to support your partner through difficult moments. Like Tweek, I don’t know if you’re open about it but I can tell you have anxiety. And as far as I’ve seen, fighting alongside you two in battle and risking our lives together, Craig really does his best to help you stay grounded,” Willow explained, “Also, I want to try and get more comfortable around you, I think you’re a friend of mine.”

“Aww, Willow, you want to be closer friends with Tweek? I’m glad I planned this sleepover,” Wendy grinned. 

“I mean, everything you said is true as long as he doesn’t start being a jerk. Sometimes he gets moody, but we’re working on that. We have a long time to work everything out,” Tweek disclosed. Wendy nodded.

“Yeah, that makes sense. He might be hot but he also is a dick, to like, everyone but you,” Wendy said. Willow nodded in agreement.

“Wait, that’s my boyfriend! He’s hot but he’s mine. Back off, girlfriend,” Tweek joked. Willow laughed.

“It’s true though, both parts. He is pretty attractive but he seemed to at best tolerate his friends, or downright insult them. He treated me and Jimmy the same and made fun of Clyde constantly. But for you, he makes almost every exception. He’s welcome to touch, sweet words, and emotions. From what I’ve heard, he didn’t even feel emotions. However when I went to get help him and when I gave him the couple’s counselling slip, he actually showed something,” Willow explained. Tweek fidgeted with his hair using his free hand, which had yet to be painted.

“I mean, he does help me get a hold of myself pretty often but sometimes he makes it worse but it’s not like he’s trying, it just happens,” Tweek explained, “Wendy, do you remember when President Garrison made all those tweets about me being this person I’m not and making North Korea hate me?” It took Wendy a few moments of visible confusion to process what he had said.

“That week with the distracted driving and suicide awareness things going on?” she clarified. 

“Yeah, but Craig tried to help me by explaining away my feelings, and we got in a fight. It made me so stressed I skipped school, and I felt terrible until he came home after school and-”

“Wait, did you say came home? Like you two live together? That’s so cute!” Wendy said excitedly. Tweek quickly waved his hands like he could dismiss the words.

“No! No, okay, maybe we basically live together, I go to his house all the time because it’s nice there and he comes over to calm me down or help me but we don’t live together!” Tweek rambled, “I’m going to finish my story. So, he came to my house, and he didn’t try to reason away any of my feelings he just listened. It was nice.”

“That’s what a healthy couple would do,” Willow stated.

“They are a healthy couple,” Wendy retorted half-jokingly.

“I know, healthier than half the married couples I’ve seen here.”

“Yeah, and I never got thanked for showing the school Yaoi art, which got you a boyfriend Tweek.” He felt the tips of his ears heat up. Yeah, that’s how they started fake-dating, and then real dating, but it was also incredibly embarrassing for art of him and Craig to be all over the town.

“That was so embarrassing, it forced me to come out! Craig didn’t even acknowledge how he felt back then, he just decided to ignore it because he felt like he’d be rejected by his friends and family and then he was basically forced into a relationship with me and his dad didn’t accept him at first and our relationship was fake at first and-” Tweek started spilling everything out, his breathing becoming irregular as he talked. His fingers tangled in his hair and he tugged lightly before someone else pulled his hand away from his hair and put it on the ground.

“Tweek, it’s okay. Take deep breaths,” Willow guided. Wendy squeezed his palm on the hand she was about finished with the paint on. He focused on their touch and slowly calmed down.

“Thank you,” he eventually managed to whisper.

“You’re welcome. I understand it’s okay,” Willow assured.

“How did you know how to help me?” he asked.

“Before I got prescribed medications, that’s how my best friend would calm me down.”

“You know, it kind of sucks that touch helps me calm down,” Tweek admitted, “Craig isn’t with me twenty-four seven, and most guys aren’t really into touching. They think it’s gay, it’s just not something they do.”

“That’s one thing us girls have over guys. We’re always touching each other because it’s not gay, it’s how we show we love each other. Tweek, as head of the council of girls, I welcome you to be treated as we treat each other. That means comfort touches,” Wendy declared. Tweek blinked a few times.

“There’s a council of girls?”

“Of course, we’re organised, unlike most of the boys. Sisterhood is no joke,” Wendy said.

“Okay, that makes sense. But you’re the head of them?”

“Yes, Willow is my aid because some of the girls are still sceptical of her, which is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. She’s as much a girl as any other member of the council,” Wendy mumbled bitterly. She then let Tweek’s hand go and took his other one. “Don’t fiddle with anything, it’ll ruin the polish. You can move it as soon as I’m done this one. Don’t listen to me and I’ll duct tape your hand so you can’t move it.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Willow, we’ll do your makeup after we’re done Tweek’s nails.”

-

Tweek often had trouble sleeping, in fact, he rarely slept more than an hour at a time. He could only sleep with Craig with him. He was left just staring at the wall, looking at every little detail that the beam on moonlight highlighted. The sound of partying, cars, and the quiet breathing in the room were all he heard.

He turned to face the bed so he could look out the window and found his view partially blocked by a body. Willow was sitting up, staring out the window herself. Her knees were pulled up to her chest. The soft glow of the moon reflected off jer face and highlighted some silent tears that were rolling down her cheek.

“Willow?” he asked quietly. She turned to face him and immediately wiped her eyes.

“Tweek. I thought you were asleep,” she whispered.

“I don’t sleep.”

“Oh.” She slid out of the bed to sit on the floor, looking back to make sure that she hadn’t woken Wendy up. “Maybe you shouldn’t drink all that coffee.”

“No.”

They sat awkwardly, wanting to speak and try to connect to each other and show their understanding of each other. Tweek decided to take the initiative.

“I understand how you feel. About your parents, I mean,” Tweek said.

“No, you don’t,” she spat, “but I appreciate it. Our families are different. You haven’t seen mine. I haven’t seen yours. But I think you’re right. Our families are terrible.” Tweek was taken aback by the venom in her voice. It wasn’t directed at him, but directed at the world.

“I want to understand how people treat you because I think we could be good friends. I just don’t want to say anything wrong. Just because I’m gay doesn’t mean I understand what it’s like being trans.”

“You’re smart and kind. We’ll talk about it sometime. We are similar, aren’t we.” Tweek grinned slightly

“Yeah, we are.” Willow silently got up and walked towards Tweek, pulling him into a hug. “You’re a good person, Tweek. Craig is lucky to have you. Stay you, no matter what. Stay you.” She got up and returned to the bed, slipping back under the covers. 

Tweek turned back to face the wall. Maybe it would be nice to have another friend, someone to go to when Craig was unavailable or to just hang out with. 

The sleepover wasn’t terrible in the end.

[ambrossart]

PAPER MEN

— CHAPTER 5

SUMMARY: All Evelyn Tozier wanted to do was make Derry High School a safer place for her kid brother. Well, somewhere between kissing Patrick Hockstetter and telling the principal to go f*** himself, things got a little off track. Now she’s stuck in the middle of a bizarre love triangle with two of Derry’s most troubled teens while her little brother and his friends hunt down a creepy, child-eating circus clown. This year, summer can’t come fast enough. PAIRINGS: Henry Bowers x Tozier!Sister; Patrick Hockstetter x Tozier!Sister WARNINGS: violence, profanity, sexual content, bullying, sexual assault, physical abuse, emotional abuse, all kinds of abuse, trauma, mental illness, implied/referenced self-harm, child death, angst, lots of angst, recreational drug use, underage drinking, underage sex, love triangles, toxic relationships, slow burn, slow build

WORD COUNT: 3,863

MASTERPOST

MASTERLIST

There were few things in life that Belch Huggins cherished more than his 1981 Pontiac Firebird Trans Am. His lovely mother, Charlene, was one of them (and no amount of teasing from the other boys was ever going to make him think any different). The other was the mixtape Christie Gibson had given him last summer. Sure, the music was mostly shit, a mixture of teen-pop dance hits and new-wave garbage that used way too much synth, but that’s what had been playing while they were fooling around in the back seat of his car, so he couldn’t bring himself to toss it. Instead, he locked it away in his glove box—the same glove box Henry Bowers was digging through right now.

The teen lazily fingered his way down the stack, finding mostly old receipts and other useless junk. Nothing particularly interesting. “You got a lotta shit in here, you know that?” His words were muffled by the lit cigarette jutting out from between his lips. He took it out and blew the smoke out the window with a single puff.

Belch kept one eye on the road. “Yeah, I gotta clean it out one of these days.”

“No shit.” Henry flipped the compartment closed and leaned back in his seat, his elbow hanging out the window. He flicked grey ashes onto the road. “Where are we even going?”

“I dunno, man. I’m just driving.” He turned onto Macklin Street, going nice and slow as he passed the police station.

A loud groan came from the back seat. “We’ve been just driving for over an hour,” said Patrick Hockstetter, his long legs bent at an uncomfortable angle. The cardboard box was wedged between him and Victor Criss, taking up what little space there was back there. “Why do we still have this, anyway?” At this point, Patrick was ready to chuck it out the window and watch it get pulverized by the cars behind them. He pounded on the box a few times with his fist. “Let’s just dump it already!”

Henry blew out more smoke and ran his hand through his dirty blond hair. “Shut up, Patrick.”

Patrick rolled his eyes. “Fine, then I’m putting on some music.” He pushed himself between the two front seats and started fumbling with the frequency knob. “Because if I have to listen to metal mouth grinding his teeth for one more second, I’m gonna blow my fuckin’ brains out.”

Vic shot him a venomous glare. “Fuck you, man.”

“Oh, so he can talk.” Patrick stopped between stations, filling the car with the grating sound of static and snatches of voices.

(You’re listening to WBFE…)

He turned around, smirking. “So, Vic, I’m dying to know what you and Tozier were talking about for so long outside school today. Must’ve been quite the conversation.”

Henry took an extra-long drag from his cigarette, closing his eyes as he inhaled the smoke.

(… mostly cloudy tonight, with a low of fif-fif—ee—oo)

“I told you already,” Vic said, getting more defensive than he ought to, but all the noise was making it hard for him to think straight. Patrick seemed to sense that. Probably even planned for it, the bastard. “Girl just wanted her shirts back. Guess she thought I would help her.”

(and then I said to the kuh-kuh-kuh-klutz… if you wanna be a juh-juh-ackassssssssss)

Patrick propped up his elbow on Henry’s seat, getting a little too comfortable for the other boy’s liking. Patrick didn’t care. “Yeah, but why would she think that, Vic? Why would she think you would help her?”

A loud, high-pitched screech took over the speakers, making everyone except Patrick cringe and cover their ears. The car swerved into the left lane, right into oncoming traffic. Belch pulled hard on the steering wheel just before they collided with a green four-door. Then he slammed his fist on the wheel, his face red-hot and sweaty. “Goddammit, Patrick!”

The radio went dead after that (Henry had flipped the switch), but their ears kept ringing for a while as they adjusted to the silence. Belch made another right and then took the very next left onto Kansas Street.

Patrick looked annoyed, like a child who got his toy taken away. “I was listening to that.”

When he tried to turn it back on, Henry gave his hand a good swat. “Just sit the fuck down, Patrick,” he said, seething. “I’m already getting tired of your shit.”

Patrick didn’t back down. In fact, he sat up even taller. “God, that girl’s really got you worked up, huh, Bowers? Evelyn Tozier, who’da thought?” He gave Henry’s arm a light smack. “Hey, why don’t you do us all a favor and nail the little bitch already? Or are you too much of a pussy?”

Henry responded by putting out his cigarette on Patrick’s forearm, enjoying the quiet sizzle that his skin made as it burned. Patrick seemed to enjoy it, too. The boy didn’t even flinch. In fact, he was smiling.

“You know what,” Patrick said in an almost taunting way, keeping his arm perfectly still, “it doesn’t even hurt.”

In turn, Henry pushed the cigarette deeper into the boy’s skin and gave it a little twist. The ashes pooled around the butt and crumbled away, falling onto the seat and onto the floor.

Belch glanced in their direction. “What the fuck are you two doing?” From where he was sitting, it looked like some sadistic game of chicken, and he wasn’t sure who was winning. “Hey, you assholes better not get any of that shit in my car. I just vacuumed.”

At that, Henry removed the cigarette and tossed it out the window before drawing a new one from his pack. Patrick’s lips stretched into a victorious smirk as he sank back into his seat. A burning, bright red ring had already started to form around the tiny pink crater on his arm, getting darker by the second. Patrick didn’t mind.

He threw his head back and stared up at the roof, getting lost in the blackness of it. “So, where are we going?”

Belch couldn’t remember who had suggested they go to the dump, but he figured it was probably Patrick Hockstetter. Patrick liked to go there alone sometimes, to scour through all the muck and the trash in hopes of finding that rare diamond in the rough. Once, he found an old La-Z-Boy recliner that still worked if you gave the lever a good enough yank. He hauled it home in the back of Martin Davers’s red pickup, then doused it with a full can of aerosol spray to cover up the smell. Now it was his favorite chair.

Patrick got out first, before the car had even come to a complete stop. He pulled his long, skinny torso out through the driver’s side window, dragged his legs over the frame one after another, and then jumped down. “Bout fuckin’ time.” His legs ached as he stretched them out for the first time, but it was a good ache. Their old strength was returning quickly. To prove it, he kicked an old soup can and sent it flying halfway across the yard, where it bounced off the broken door of an old puke-green refrigerator and rolled underneath a junked Toyota Corolla sitting on bare wheel-rims.

Patrick threw his hands up like he’d just scored a goal, then spun around. “You fuckers getting out, or what?”

They didn’t move, and he didn’t wait for them. Patrick sucked in a lungful of the sour, sludgy air and walked off by himself, disappearing behind one of the garbage piles. The others were glad to see him go.

Henry Bowers made himself comfortable on the car’s hood, pulling out a third cigarette with his teeth. It took him a couple of tries to create a flame with his lighter. For some reason, he just couldn’t get the motion right, and his growing frustration only made it worse. “Useless piece of shit.” Once he finally had it, he whipped the lighter at the ground and leaned all the way back against the windshield, drawing his legs in.

Belch Huggins and Victor Criss were watching him from inside the car, neither of them saying a word. Vic draped his arm over the cardboard box, holding it close, protecting it while he could. Then a thought flashed through his mind. He wondered if anyone would notice if he took the box and walked off with it. How far would he make it before Henry caught him?

Not far, he decided. Vic wasn’t fast enough to outrun him.

But if he had Belch’s car, he could do it. Sure he could.

Vic looked up at the rearview mirror and saw the older boy’s reflection. Reggie (that was his real name, though hardly anybody ever called him by it) seemed troubled by something, maybe the same “something” that was bothering Vic right now. His large hands were on the steering wheel, gripping it at ten and two like you were supposed to, and the keys were still in the ignition, dangling from a silver chain with a red leather strap and two black-and-white dice.

Maybe, Vic thought as he watched the dice clack together, Reggie wanted to drive away, too. If Vic asked him, maybe he’d gun it and take off. Make Henry Bowers slide off the hood and chase after them, hollering like a maniac. The thought almost made Vic burst out laughing.

Almost.

Truthfully, Vic was too scared—scared of not knowing what was about to happen but feeling deep in his gut that something terrible was going to happen if he didn’t get out of there quickly.

And that “something terrible” was starting right now.

“Hey,” Henry said, leaning in through the driver’s side window. The look in his eye made Vic uneasy. “Get out, both of you, and bring that stupid box.”

Eddie Kaspbrak nearly screamed when the soup can came rolling out from underneath the Toyota Corolla, stopping just inches away from his foot. He jumped back, shoes sinking into the mud, and opened his mouth only to have the sound smothered by Richie Tozier’s sweaty hand.

Ugh, his hand smells like cheese, Eddie thought first, wondering when the boy had last washed his hands. Then he saw all the dirt on the white bottoms of his black Nikes, and he knew he was sure to get a mouthful from his mother when he got home.

Where’d all that dirt come from, Eddie? Goodness gracious, I swear I’ve never seen so much mud in my life! Where’d you go? Somewhere you’re not supposed to, I’ll bet. Oh, you know how I hate mud in the house. Take those shoes off before you track it all over the place. I just scrubbed those floors, too. Now I’m gonna have to scrub them all over again. Get on my hands and knees with a bucket and sponge. And you know how badly that hurts my knees, Eddie.

I know, Mom, Eddie would say, and he would slip off his shoes and promise to be more careful.

Somewhere in the distance, Patrick Hockstetter was shouting, “You fuckers getting out, or what?”

Richie yanked Eddie back, pulling them both behind the junked car. Eddie wrestled himself free of Richie’s grasp so that he could catch a proper breath. His inhaler would help, but it was in his fanny pack, and he was afraid the zipper might make too much noise.

Shoes crunched in the gravel as footsteps drew closer… closer and closer. They could hear Patrick Hockstetter humming to himself, sometimes stopping to mumble things that didn’t make sense. It sounded like he was alone, but they couldn’t be sure, and both of them were too scared to stand up and sneak a peek.

Please, no, thought Eddie, his knees trembling. Don’t come over here!

The footsteps got quieter and quieter, eventually vanishing entirely. A few minutes later, Richie Tozier mustered the courage to poke his head out and look. “He’s gone.”

That didn’t make Eddie feel better. “He’ll come back.”

“Then we better be fast.”

Eddie shook his head. “No. No, I don’t like this. We should go. We shouldn’t be here.” Not in a junkyard of all places, surrounded by dirt and shit and disease, squatting behind a rusty old car while Patrick Hockstetter was waiting to jump out and grab him, lock him in that fridge.

Eddie’s face went white when he thought about the fridge.

It’s just some bullshit story, he told himself. Hockstetter’s an asshole, but even he’s not that crazy.

Are you sure about that, Eds? Toby Bickford sure thought the fridge was real enough. He’d seen it with his own eyes, or at least he claimed he had, but Toby Bickford liked to talk out of his ass sometimes. Richie Tozier had warned Eddie about him back in the sixth grade. “Yeah, you really gotta have shit for brains if you believe any of the crap Bullshit Bickford says.” Eddie had laughed when he heard that, but he wasn’t laughing now.

Because Patrick Hockstetter was that crazy, and it was a different kind of crazy than Henry Bowers.

See, Henry Bowers would shove your face in dogshit for no reason, or smash your nose, or break your arm; and when he screamed at you, his face got all red and looked about to explode off his neck like a balloon pumped with too much helium. With Patrick, it was different. He wasn’t the type to beat you up for looking at him funny, or for running into him in the hallway, or for saying something smart like Richie Tozier liked to do. Nothing ever seemed to make him angry. He was smiling, always smiling, but there was something deeply unsettling about that smile. Eddie didn’t know how to describe it, but he knew it wasn’t right.

He knew it was dangerous.

“Where’s Bowers?” Eddie asked, keeping an eye out for Patrick just in case.

“On the car, smoking. The others are there, too.” Richie pushed up his glasses. “The shirts are in there, I bet.”

Eddie had almost forgotten about Evelyn’s shirts. That’s what had brought them there. Richie had forced Eddie to come along after Bill Denbrough and Stan Uris said no. Eddie didn’t have a choice—Richie said so. Somebody had to go with him on his suicide mission, and Eddie couldn’t think up a good excuse fast enough. So they hopped on their bikes and chased the Trans Am around town until it finally stopped at the junkyard (because, of course, they just had to pick the junkyard). Eddie and Richie hid behind the old Toyota and stashed their bikes in some nearby bushes in case they needed to make a quick getaway.

But right now those bushes seemed miles away. What if they couldn’t reach their bikes in time? What if somebody came and nabbed them, and they were stranded there? Then we’d be done for, and Patrick Hockstetter would show them the fridge that wasn’t supposed to exist.

“Okay,” Eddie said, taking a big gulp, “what’s the plan?”

For the first time since Eddie had known him, Richie Tozier had nothing to say, and that made Eddie even more scared.

“You don’t have a plan, huh?”

The corner of Richie’s mouth curled bashfully. Eddie should have known better. Richie Tozier wasn’t exactly the plan-making type. No, he was more of the make-fun-of-the-plan type. Bill Denbrough was the plan-maker. Big Bill, that was who they needed now, with his big, crazy ideas that somehow always worked out. But Bill wasn’t there. He had to help his father with a woodworking project after school.

(I made a pruh-pruh-promise.)

“Fuck,” Eddie whispered. Now it really was hopeless. Stan would agree with him if he were there, but he wasn’t there either. Nobody was there. They were alone. “We should wait. We should wait for Bill and Stan and try again tomorrow.”

“There won’t be a tomorrow, dipshit!” Richie whispered hotly. “Do you see where they are? They’re at the fuckin’ dump!”

And now Henry Bowers was off the hood and walking around to the driver’s side. He must have said something to Belch Huggins and Victor Criss because the two of them got out of the car, too. Richie saw the cardboard box in Vic’s hands.

“It’s now or never.”

“So, what are we gonna do with it?”

Patrick Hockstetter squatted down beside the box. The Zippo lighter was in his right hand, glinting in the sunlight. Patrick was playing with it: spinning the wheel with his thumb, making a flame, then slapping the lid closed with a quiet clunk. He said, “I can think of a couple things.” The lighter clinked open, and he flicked the wheel again.

The others were standing a few feet away. Henry was leaning against Belch’s car.

“We’re not setting them on fire,” Vic said. “You trying to get expelled?”

Patrick shrugged. His lighter went clunk. “Not like you guys are offering up any ideas. How ‘bout it, Bowers? We can have a bonfire. Throw the ashes on her porch.”

“Shut up, Patrick,” said Henry. “I’m thinking.”

Patrick went quiet, sulking a little.

Gravel crunched in the distance.

A whisper.

Then a slap.

“We should just give them back,” Belch said quietly. He took off his black-and-yellow cap and wiped away some of the sweat from his hairline before putting it back on. It was getting late and his mother would be coming home from work soon. “Those shirts are basically school property, aren’t they?”

“Yeah,” said Vic, “and a goody-two-shoes like Tozier won’t hesitate to report us. I dunno about you assholes, but I’m definitely not getting detention over a couple dumb shirts.”

Belch was shaking his head. The car keys jingled in his hand. He just wanted to go home and relax, eat some of that leftover pot roast that was sitting in the fridge and find out how his mom’s day went.

“She’s not gonna rat,” Patrick said. “If she was, she would’ve done it already.”

Patrick was right, but Henry didn’t need to know that.

“Are you fucking stupid, Patrick?” said Vic. “The whole school knows we took those shirts. If she doesn’t talk, one of her student council buddies surely will. And if it hasn’t reached Hellyer by now, it will tomorrow. He’s already got it in for us—for Henry, especially. Do you really wanna get suspended over this, Henry?”

Yeah, I’m sure your old man would love that, Vic thought, but he didn’t need to say it out loud because Henry was already thinking it. That’s why he flinched as soon as Vic mentioned the principal.

But, of course, Henry was quick to hide it. “I said, shut the fuck up and let me think!” He started rubbing the back of his neck, clearly agitated. “I’ll decide what we do with the shirts, okay?”

Crunch. Crunch.

“They’ll hear us.”

“Shut up!”

Patrick made a disgusted sound. “You’re not gonna do shit, Bowers. We all know that. You’re gonna give the shirts back to her, show her you’re not such a bad guy after all, because maybe then she’ll finally drop her panties for you.”

He got to his feet, taking one of the shirts with him. “Here, why don’t you keep one, Henry? The blue really matches your eyes.”

The shirt smacked Henry on the nose before he caught it. All the while, Patrick was laughing.

“You want one too, Vic? I saw you jump in front of her back in the hallway. Don’t think I’ve ever seen you move so fast.”

The shirt came flying at Vic. He ripped it out of the air and pulled it down to his side.

”Fuck! It’s too heavy!”

“Shut up and help me!”

Patrick went back for another, then stopped. “What the fuck?”

The box was gone, now clutched in the hands of Eddie Kaspbrak and Richie Tozier. The boys took four steps and froze when they felt eyes on them. Henry Bowers stepped away from the car, looking more confused than angry. And Patrick Hockstetter was smiling. That’s when Eddie knew they were done for.

“Oh, shit!” He gasped and released his side. The box fell to the ground, blue shirts spilling everywhere. Eddie turned and ran, kicking up dirt and flecks of garbage.

Richie took off too, but not before grabbing a fistful of shirts (because some shirts were better than no shirts, and he didn’t want his plan to be a total failure). He passed the junked Toyota Corolla and picked up the pace. His feet skidded through the rocks as he changed directions, making a break for the bushes where they’d hidden their bikes.

Wait, which bushes were they again? They all looked the same.

Eddie was heading a different way.

Fuck!

Richie decided to keep running. The shirts were wedged in his armpit—six, maybe eight of them. He’d lost a few somewhere along the way, but he couldn’t go back for them now. Bowers was right on his tail. Richie could hear him screaming, “Get back here, you fuckers!”

“Eat shit, Bowers!” Richie yelled back once. He couldn’t help it.

He should have been watching where he was going. If he had been more focused on that, he might have seen the broken bedspring that was lying on the ground. Instead, the trashmouth was too busy talking shit, so when his foot inevitably got ensnared by one of the coiled metal springs, well, he could only blame himself.

The shirts flew out and scattered away. The ground came rushing fast, smacking Richie Tozier hard on the chin. A giant cloud of dust and dirt settled around him, covering his hair and clothes. Richie tried to get up. Pain shot through his whole body as blood leaked out of a dozen cuts and scrapes on his elbows and knees. His right wrist was starting to swell a little. He had stuck it out in an attempt to brace his fall. Another dumb idea.

They were behind him now. Richie could see their shadows against the setting sun. Eddie was probably long gone already, peddling home and muttering under his breath about how he knew this was all a bad idea from the start.

Yeah, it was a bad idea—hell, it was a terrible idea, but Richie had to do something. If he hadn’t, then his big sister would never know how truly sorry he was, that he hadn’t meant what he said in the kitchen that morning. He was just tired and annoyed and spoke without thinking. Because you always speak without thinking.

Henry Bowers rolled him onto his back with his foot. Richie tried to smirk, but the muscles in his face hurt too much. He looked around for his sister’s shirts, reaching with his injured hand. He found one close by and tightened his fist around it.

Bowers was staring down at him, his eyes an angry blue. “Oh, you’re gonna get it now, you little four-eyed freak.”

Richie Tozier used the last of his strength to give Henry Bowers the finger.

______________________

PREV // CURRENT // NEXT

[nicostolemybones]

Transitioning to Manhood

Will felt a strange nostalgia looking at the box his mother had sent him, although it wasn’t a bittersweet feeling. It was a twisting feeling in his gut, a horrible reminder that his mom was clearing the house of all reminders of her child, trying to get the child she thought she remembered to snap out of a phase and return home. He picked up a knitted hat, barely the size of his fist- he’d been born premature, and his grandmother had knitted the tiny pink hat as soon as she received news of his birth. It was a pale pastel pink, almost white, a pearly quality to the colour, but years of collecting damp in a cardboard box had tinged it a dusty, damp grey. There were photographs, and Will was bombarded with pigtails and frilly dresses and patent shoes buckled with bows. “I think I would have cried if I’d been put in that monstrosity,” Lou-Ellen said softly, pointing at the photograph Will was currently holding, featuring him in a pink frilly dress for a Church wedding, holding a basket of bright pink and red rose petals, bawling his eyes out and lifting up the hem of the skirt to wipe his face. He looked about five.

The next picture showed the same dress covered in mud, Will grinning like a maniac chasing the vicar’s daughter with a worm in his hands and one shoe missing, hair a tangled mess. Cecil snorted and laughed. “Please tell me you put that worm down the back of her dress!”

“Nah, she picked up a bigger worm and chased me with it instead. We were friends in kindergarten,” Will replied, pointing out a photograph of him in pink flowery dungarees sitting opposite the girl, who was wearing the same dungarees in blue. “We made mud pies and put them in her father’s shoes in that picture,” Will said sadly, “we got into trouble for boyish behaviour and making a mess.” Will unceremoniously shoved the photographs into the bottom of the box, taking a few deep breaths.

“Are you okay, Will,” Lou-Ellen asked gently, placing her hand on his back and rubbing small circles.

“Yeah,” Will sighed, staring emptily into the box before picking out his birth certificate and staring at it. “I don’t know,” Will amended, and Cecil took the certificate out of his hands.

“We should burn this,” Cecil announced, “it’s useless. If you end up needing it for anything, you can just get it re-printed at the register office. Although you might wanna make some changes to it first. Until you can do that legally, Connor and Travis owe me a massive favour, if you’d like.” Will let out a small laugh, burying his face in his hands.

“My whole childhood is in this box,” Will said quietly, “and my mom’s throwing away all of her favourite memories of me, and I can’t bring myself to look at them.”

“Hey,” Lou-Elllen began gently, “we’ll make new memories, new photographs.These aren’t your memories, they’re your mom’s ideal childhood for you, it’s all the parts she didn’t like taken out and the select few moments she did pruned carefully and displayed to be her image of perfection. You don’t have to keep any of this, because that’s not how your childhood felt to you. They aren’t pictures of you, they’re pictures of the child your mom wanted everybody to see, they aren’t pictures that truly represent your childhood. You aren’t obliged to hold onto somebody else's image of you.”

“We can burn all of it later, mate,” Cecil offered, “just us if you want. And Nico too, of course. Kayla and Austin too maybe, if they aren’t busy.”

“Yeah,” Will sighed, “shoot it with a burning arrow or something.”

“That’s the spirit,” Cecil grinned mischievously, taking the box from Will, “I’ll go take this to my cabin and get my siblings to thoroughly vandalise everything so before you burn it you can have a laugh.”

“Thanks,” Will laughed, and Lou-Ellen pulled him into her shoulder.

“I’ll see you later, dude,” Cecil smiled, “and you, my bi-hexual girlfriend!” He kissed Lou-Ellen’s cheek and jogged off.

“Do you wanna go find Nico?”

“He’s got training now,” Will replied, “but I wanna go talk to Clarisse, do you know where I could find her?”

“I saw her heading to her cabin before I came here,” Lou-Ellen replied, “I’m gonna go work on creating some more sigils, okay?” She kissed Will’s cheek before heading towards her cabin, and Will set out to find Clarisse. She wasn’t in her cabin, or in the armory- Will found her sitting outside the currently empty Aphrodite cabin, holding a pale green and cream chiffon scarf in her hands. Will sat beside her, bumping her shoulder.

“It was Silena’s,” Clarisse said gently, “her favourite hijab. She used to cover it with pins and I’d put flowers through the pins. After we burned her shroud, we uh… her parents invited me to her funeral, at the Masjid. The mosque, that is.”

“It’s beautiful,” Will said, “you should keep it. She’d want you to have it.”

“Yeah,” Clarisse sighed, “don’t tell anyone I went soft, you hear me, Solace?”

“Message received and understood,” Will smiled, and Clarisse punched him lightly in the arm.

“She taught me how to put on makeup,” Clarisse admitted, “she used to do it real subtle, so nobody would know. She’d contour my whole face and she’d put on neutral eye shadows and clear mascara, cherry chapstick muted with matte powder.”

“I never noticed you wearing makeup,” Will replied.

“That’s because that was the point. She made it look completely natural. I’m not exactly… feminine.”

“But she taught you how you could be butch and still be pretty, right?”

“Exactly,” Clarisse replied, “she helped me to pass.”

“A true ally,” Will smiled, resting his head on her shoulder, “how have you been recovering from surgery?”

“I’ve had worse pain,” Clarisse smiled, “I’m still getting used to the extra weight on my chest, but Chris likes them just as much as I do, I think.” Will chuckled lightly, and Clarisse put her arm around him. “Anyway, you look like shit, Solace, what happened?”

“My mom,” Will replied dejectedly, “she sent a box of stuff from my childhood. I’m gonna burn it all later. Cecil’s idea.”

“I’ll be right there with you,” Clarisse said, squeezing his shoulder roughly, “providing I can take a baseball bat to everything first.”

“You can rip the birth certificate before I shoot everything with a burning arrow” Will offered, and Clarisse chuckled lightly.

“That’s my boy,” Clarisse grinned, punching his arm lightly.

“The thing is… I don’t hate my childhood,” Will began honestly. “I didn’t always know I was trans, I didn’t always hate myself, I just couldn’t understand that weird out of place feeling, you know? I didn’t know why things made me uncomfortable. I only started figuring it out when I came to camp… and now, it hurts to look at all the pictures, because they… they don’t feel like I’m looking at photographs of me, and the more I tell myself that’s me, the more I can’t stand to look at them, because I look so female. But my childhood wasn’t a sad one, I… I was loved once, I used to pretend I had nightmares so my mom would give me these butter cookies with warm milk. She knew I was usually faking it, but she didn’t care as long as I smiled.”

“Tell me more,” Clarisse probed gently, before wrapping Silena’s scarf around his shoulders when she noticed a breeze, keeping her arm around his shoulder.

“She didn’t always have a lot of time for me, with the singing and all,” Will began, “but when she did have time for me, we always did something. She used to take me to my grandma’s farm a lot. The chickens didn’t like me much, but there was this baby calf my grandma let me name. Which was a terrible decision, I called it Dustbin Grass,” Will announced with a small laugh. Clarisse snorted, and Will continued. “Anyway, the calf used to come in through the back door and lay down in the middle of the sitting room, and I’d curl up next to the calf. We had a height chart on the wall, and I’d always compare my height with the calf every week. And other days, my mom would take me on day trips. Sometimes it was just to the local park or play area, we’d feed the ducks and sit in the sun with a picnic. I’d always go on the slide, although some days it was so hot the metal burned and I’d start crying. My mom always used to wrap me up in a warm hug and she’d tell me that it was all okay.”

“That sounds nice,” Clarisse said sincerely, and Will continued to share his memories.

“I wasn’t so good with all the school stuff. When I was a kid, I hadn’t been diagnosed with ADHD yet, or dyslexia, but I still struggled. I was behind everybody in the class on my reading and writing and my handwriting was always terrible. I used to get frustrated and walk out a lot. And after break time, I always had a hard time calming down, so I used to be super bouncy and I’d need something to fidget with. And of course, I was a kid, so the louder the better. I’d get into trouble a lot and get sent out of class. I used to cry because I thought I was dumb, but my mom always told me I was the smartest. She’d take me on nature walks, and she’d point out different trees and birds and insects and I’d tell her what they were. And at one point, I could identify native birds by their calls. My mom made me feel smart, and I didn’t feel smart again until I came to camp.”

“How the fuck did they think you were dumb?”

“Classism, sexism, and ableism. Anyway, my mom and I used to have pamper weekends, where we’d just sit out in the garden with bowls of cold water for our feet and face masks, and we’d watch the clouds if there were any. Mom never used to put enough sunscreen on herself and she used to end up looking like a lobster. We’d talk about how our weeks had been, and about my mom’s record deals and tours. She mainly toured the South, she didn’t usually go far out from Texas, but I’ve always been travel sick and I can’t really handle anything over half an hour, so it was always better to leave me at home with my grandma sometimes. My mom and I lived in the city in Austin, but my grandma lived on a ranch. She used to make me cookies all the time and she’d tell me stories of mom’s childhood and her childhood. She’d tell me how lucky I was. My grandma was a lesbian, but things when she were young were… well, worse than they are today, so… she married a man and had kids and buried who she was. She always told me that I couldn’t help who I was, and that if ever I figured myself out and I wasn’t straight, then it was okay and she’d love me just the same. The vicar used to sit and have tea with my grandma every day, because he had a gay son and he wanted her advise on how to support him.”

“Your gran is a legend,” Clarisse smiled, “is she still with us or…”

“I wish I knew,” Will sighed sadly, “grandpa died when I was six and the year after, my nan met a woman, and she moved away and my mom refused to let me have her address or contact her. Everyone always assumes my mom is kind and loving because I have such happy childhood memories. But when you have a child, if you can’t love your child unconditionally, then you never loved them at all. I grew up, knowing, just knowing… that one day, I’d do or say something and my mom would know I was bisexual and my mom wouldn’t love me anymore. Knowing that your own mother will stop loving you, for the very thing that gets you beat up in the playground, for the very thing that gets you harassed, knowing that your own mother believes with all of her heart that her child deserves to burn in hellfire and brimstone for eternity just for being attracted to somebody… from a young age I knew that my mother’s love was conditional. For years, I knew that I didn’t meet the conditions for my mother’s love. And then I stopped going home because I was scared and I wasn’t ready to be abandoned by the same woman who promised unconditional love. And then I came out as trans to her and… she sends me the box. And it’s not just a box to remind me of my childhood, it’s all her favourite memories. It’s the drawings she stuck to the fridge, the photos she showed guests, the things she was most proud of me for. It’s her way of telling me that she hates me so much that those memories are worthless to her. Happy childhoods are empty gestures when a parent’s love is conditional. And I have to face biphobia and transphobia every day of my life, but it’s worse knowing I don’t have a home. My home is a summer camp. I’m alone. If the woman who swore to love me unconditionally, swore by her bible to love me and protect me and fulfil her god given role as a parent, can cast me aside like I’m disgusting, then how am I ever meant to feel anything but wrong? How am I meant to convince myself I’m worthy of love? I can’t even use public restrooms without fearing for my safety, how am I meant to feel safe enough to trust anybody?”

“Hey,” Clarisse began, squeezing Will’s shoulder, “you’re never alone. No matter what, I’ve got your back. I’ll kick a transphobes teeth, you know I will. We have to stick together, we can’t let the community be divided, okay? We’ll look out for each other. You’re not unloved. I love you. My mom is your mom now, okay? Actually no, I’m your mom now, kiddo. And you have the best friends you could ask for, okay? Lou-Ellen can and will hex anybody who tries to put you down. Cecil’s always got your back, he pranked that Athena kid real good, remember? And you have Nico. You’re dating the Son of Hades. He can and will turn anyone into a ghost if they hurt you. That boy loves you, okay? Your self-worth is not defined by your mother’s prejudice. Nico’s friends- Jason, Percy, Frank, Hazel, Annabeth, Piper, Reyna, Leo- they’re all allies we can trust. You’re not a boy anymore, Solace, you’re a man now. You’re making your own way in a world where the odds are stacked against you. You just gotta keep going. People will hate you no matter what you do. So surround yourself with allies, keep going no matter how bleak, stay strong, and when you can’t stay strong, use your support network. We’ll both survive if we stick together. If you feel scared to go outside, come and find me. We’ll keep each other safe. And remember. You’re perfect, don’t let anybody tell you otherwise. Aphrodite would want you to respect yourself and love yourself. Your dad would want you to shine and spread light amongst the hate, to rise no matter how many times you’re pushed down. My dad would want you to fight back and never stop fighting for your rights, our rights, for what you believe in. And I’m sure most of the other gods support you too.”

“Damn girl, now I know why you’re in charge of motivational battle speeches,” Will smiled, and Clarisse ruffled his hair.

“Good boy. Now, you’re gonna get back to that infirmary, and carry on as normal, okay? And then we’re gonna burn your birth certificate and all the other stuff.”

“I had my T shot this morning,” Will stated with a small smile, “after a few months, people no longer misgender me when they hear my voice and for once in my life, I like how I sound. I feel like me. My dysphoria is… it’s so much less intense than it used to be. I feel safer in public, I feel confident enough to speak as loud as I want without fearing judgment or misgendering or violence.”

“You’re getting a bit of a fluffy mustache too there, Solace,” Clarisse teased light-heartedly, and Will laughed happily. “I’ve gotta go teach the Aphrodite girls some self-defence classes, you have to prepare for the influx of inevitable injuries because the Ares cabin and the Athena cabin are sparring in the arena.”

Will went about the rest of his day with his head held high. For once, he felt proud of who he was, of the man he’d become, of the way he hadn’t let the hate he’d heard turn him hateful, how he helped people, how he tried his best to make every camper feel like they had a safe space, a home. He never wanted anybody to feel the way he had for such a long time. He prided himself on his kindness, and he vowed never to lose it.

So later that day, the camp stood around a pit of flames at the beach, all turned out to show their solidarity bar a few. Will wore his flag as a cape, and everybody cheered when Clarisse marched in still in her armour from the day, with a ‘fuck the cis-tem’ jacket, and ripped up Will’s birth certificate. Will smiled as he threw the photographs into the flames, one by one, his friends all cheering and clapping. He watched every painful reminder, every perfect image of his mother’s ideal child- graffitied on with funny mustaches and devil horns on his mom, courtesy of the Hermes cabin- of conditional love and rejection, go up in flames. For once, Will wasn’t defined by his past, but rather by his future, one surrounded by allies and friends from all walks of life. People of many religions and races, sexualities, and genders. And even better, he received a loving kiss from his boyfriend in front of the crowd. For once, he didn’t look back.

@solangeloweek day 2, childhood/back story building

[starswallowingsea]

Growing Up Trans and AlloAro

Or whatever the hell this essay turned out to be. Under the cut because this got long (like 1340 words long). 

---

When I was younger, I never quite fit with the word “girl,” but I thought it was just because I didn’t like playing with dolls like other girls my age. I spent my first two years of school playing spies on the playground and sticking my tongue to frozen poles (and yes, it is painful but I somehow managed to not get in trouble for it). 

I would sit in our office--soon to be my baby brother’s room--and build towers out of his foam blocks and make stories for people that lived in cities I built on SimCity on our old desktop. Even with my girl friends, I would get confused about why they were talking about liking boys and getting crushes. 

I remember sitting in my friend’s basement during a freezing winter in North Dakota and she was shocked when I told her I had never seen Drake and Josh before and then grabbing her Magic 8ball and asking it if she would fall in love with Drake. 

I moved to Wisconsin a year later and had a hard time making friends. I thought we would just move again so I only talked with a handful of people in our already small school district. We would play dolls and teacher and I would get bored most days, wanting to play with the boys and make up stories. 

It was around the time that he left that I knew I was different from the other kids. They were starting to date each other as early as 3rd grade. We would tease our friends about who they were dating but I never understood why they dated in the first place. For the first few years, I would deflect questions about crushes by saying I still liked someone from my old school, but that only worked for so long. 

In 8th grade I started questioning my sexuality for the first time. I wasn’t really sure who I liked, because I didn’t really like anyone at that point. There was one kid I thought was attractive and always used him as my scapegoat when asked about crushes so nobody would know. I did like him, but it felt different than I knew my cishet peers thought about their crushes, just based on the way they talked about them. I thought I was asexual, because the internet in 2014 didn’t like to talk about aromanticism, much less than it does now anyway. 

So I joined tumblr in like, 2015, the summer between 8th grade and freshman year of high school and posted about asexuality, being nonbinary, toontown rewritten, all the stuff that 14-15yos are into. For a while I identified as heteroromantic asexual, and then nonbinary asexual quoiromantic, and then aromantic asexual and nonbinary? Or maybe I was really cis? 

And it went like that, back and forth between a few labels. I never felt like I could tell anybody, because I went to a small school and heard all the comments people made about the LGBTQ community and what my parents said about trans people and the messages preached at church. 

When I was about 16, I realized I wasn’t ace at all. I thought maybe I was a nonbinary aro lesbian, or maybe bisexual. Tumblr in 2016/17 was very against having attraction to men at all in the circles I found myself in and I pushed those feelings down so I wouldn’t make people uncomfortable. I forced myself to be attracted to women when I really wasn’t at all. Every other post about bisexuality was talking about how beautiful women were and how disgusting men were. I never felt comfortable talking about my attraction to men in public, or even in private. I felt even more uncomfortable talking about maybe being bisexual and aromantic. At this point, alloaros were practically unheard of and there weren’t a ton of trans aces, so finding someone to talk to about my identity was hard, to say the least. I just simply was alloaro, but that word didn’t exist yet and I couldn’t find anyone else who was aromantic and not asexual. 

That’s how I lived for another 2 years, as a nonbinary aro lesbian (or maybe bisexual). This was around the same time as I got involved in truscum/tucute discourse. I’ve always been minimally dysphoric about my body and got attacked for it by truscum and it would take me another 2 years to realize that I was actually a trans man. Because I started associating trans men with truscum and I didn’t want to be like them because they were always the nastiest people I had ever come across (I’ve obviously since outgrown this view point and am comfortable identifying as a man now). 

Another two years later and I’m outside a Thiesen’s with my parents picking up stuff for my graduation party that was happening later. My feet hit the pavement and I get a thought that said “maybe I’m a guy.” I stopped for a second and kept walking in, thinking about that, trying out he/him pronouns with myself and decided before we checked out that I was a trans guy. 

It took a while to get used to thinking about myself that way and I still use they/them pronouns. A few days after solidifying my gender identity, I realized I was aro and bisexual (or maybe gay). Labeling my sexuality came much easier, realizing I was a man. I’m still aromantic and that’s one thing that’s been pretty constant in my life. I never really got crushes in the typical way and I still don’t, even though you all see me reblogging yearning posts. I think that’s a byproduct of wanting to touch people in non-romantic and non-sexual ways in our society where touches have a lot of baggage with them. 

I came out as bisexual and aromantic to my roommates in September. It came up in casual conversation and I felt comfortable enough to tell them, since they were all from the city and city-folk tend to be more accepting of queer identities (not to rag on rural folk, since I am one, but rural Wisconsin is not the place you want to grow up trans and queer). One of them came out as straight in October on coming out day and I forced myself back into the closet on coming out as trans. We had a falling out with her earlier this semester and she moved out. 

Literally the night she moved out, I came out to the other two roommates as trans and they took it very well! They call me by my preferred name when we’re around people I’m out to and they even bought me a trans flag that we have hanging in the common room of our dorm (and at least one person has told me they say “trans rights!” whenever they pass by as soon as they found out it was mine). I’m still working on being socially out at college and need to call gender inclusive housing at some point, but I keep putting that off. 

And recently I’ve decided I’m trans, aro, and queer. I still use the word bisexual, but really thinking about what genders I’m attracted to is super complicated and the word bisexual doesn’t convey that to most people. And queer just fits better some days. 

I don’t really have a tl;dr for this, but if I had to pick something from this to hammer home, it would be that it’s okay to change labels and question your identity. It’s okay to change labels frequently or once every few years if you feel like they’ve changed! It’s never too late to figure out who you are and there will always be people who will accept you for who you are. 

Also tumblr is the worst place to try and figure out your identity, but sometimes its all people have and I want my blog to be a safe space for people questioning their identities. 

[kylejourney]

My Experiences At Deaf School.

So some of you folks I went to deaf school for the new life. I was looking for better life. 

I am not saying it is bad or good school. I am neutral with this. 

I knew I had to be in the girl’s dorm but I don’t think we will spend a lot time in the dorm. I was wrong I had to be in the sports to not spend a lot in the dorm. I couldn’t join the sports because I have bad knees. Also because I was in the bad shape. 

I didn’t join in any club because I had a big anxiety. I got really bad social anxiety. We didn’t have a lot of club options. I don’t join the play because I got this terrible stage fright. I wanted to help but I don’t want to stay in the weekend and help. 

I got bad social anxiety at school really big one. Some students tried to talk to me but I don’t really talk to anymore. So I really don’t make any friends but I knew some students from deaf camp. Not all of them are nice to me. I made some weird “friends” They were quiet like me so we have some in common. Some people said we are “brothers’ because they said we are fat and quiet. Really stupid. 

I got fun of people of being trans and fat. Many people accused me lesbian because I looked like a boy and lived in girls dorm. Also I had ex girlfriend so more people make fun of me. I was not comfortable to tell people that I dated because I was already made fun of. My ex girlfriend have a bad mental health like I did. Some students are so mean. 

Many deaf students made fun of me also I had some students are big allies to me. 

I moved to boys dorm during junior year in February. I got room alone and same with senior year. 

When I lived in boys dorm I was 18 .The boys were big allies to me. One time the student was younger than me and said “you are a girl” and student was my same age said no “ he is a boy” The boys in my dorm was really comfortable with me. I think there one student who really uncomfortable with me being in boys dorm.

Many boys at dorm respected me and sometimes helped me. They don’t mind wearing boxers front of me after showered. I was impressed with them really. They treated me like a boy. I got very big fear having period in boy dorm. My staff was under able why I feel unwell sometimes. He made tea sometimes for me. He was my favorite staff. He was a really good listener. I got another favorite staff too. I got sad when he moved to other dorm. I was really comfortable with these two staff. I just need a lot of time to be comfortable with new people. 

I had a friend in junior year many people made fun of her of being lesbian and doesn’t know sign language. I had to support her and we were there are each other. I got patient with her when she doesn’t know sign language. She was great really. That just kids are so mean. She moved back to her school next year because school was terrible for her. 

Then there transgender kid moved in the school. He was FTM too. Many students even staff gave him a hard time too. I don’t want to tell you the story but he doesn’t really take it well. 

Many times principal had talk with us how bad behaved we were. That just way school is. I try my best to avoid drama. Some people wondered why I am so quiet that’s because they are always drama so I don’t want to be involved. 

I got in trouble at school one time for skipping class due to anxiety. I had a huge panic attacks many times during at the school and I didn’t even know why. 

One time the kid in the class said ‘all the boys expect Kyle he is transgender” I was like hello am I a robot? The teacher even didn’t do anything so I had to tell other staff about that. 

The school said they doesn’t accept the discriminations well obviously they did to me..

In math class I got teased more by students. Even the math teacher doesn’t care. I sat corner and the students were sitting in the middle because I was not comfortable . My English teacher strict teacher I met in the school. But she helped me on my first days at the school when I got upset. In junior year I was forced to be in girls only group for stupid actives. I cried and my English teacher got me out of that group. She allowed me sat in her classroom. That when I was comfortable with her. Sometimes we still contact now. My science teacher in senior year was really cool. He never showed me any hate or anything. I learned a lot from him about recycling and the cars. I got history teacher in junior and senior year she was okay I think. But because of her I got trip to Washington DC. Washington DC was fun trip and I’m glad I had this chance. I earned some money to go to the trip. 

I stayed at Washington DC for one week and it was really great experience. I even got sleep with boys roommate. I told other students don’t tell anyone that I am trans so no one will make fun of me. So when they didn’t know I was trans they treated me like normal kid. I got be more independence. I got good food haha. 

I got go to transgender support group once a week I feel like there is a family. We really understand each other and many of us have mental health issues too. I had a bad trauma watching someone had seizure in the group. That was last time when I went there. I got legally name changed because of group. So I was 18 years old when I got my legally name changed. They supported me with the money too. 

I had code word “blue” so teachers know I need to left the classroom for few minutes. I was allowed to bring the phone. Sometimes I bring the phone into the classroom because I sometimes had bad anxiety and really need to talk someone. I have favorite librarian she was really big support me and understand my mental health. So she allowed me stay in the library during the lunch time. We started chatting a little I was getting know her a little then I had to leave the school. My English teacher got her own code words too but other students know it too so I was not comfortable to use it. I didn’t use blue so much because I worried I will got in the trouble for leaving the classroom a lot. 

I got episodes twice in the bathroom because I really wanted to leave the school. I had to stuck in the school. The staff tried to support me but I don’t want tell them reasons. 

Some staff supported me but some staff are not nice too. One time staff called me a girl. I told her no I am a boy. She said no you are in the girls dorm so you are a girl. It was on homecoming night so I had to left the room and cried. I got really hot and shaky. So I cried more in the dorm. I don’t know who to tell anyone. It was really bad homecoming night and I didn’t go to homecoming in senior year. So I had to stay strong for the rest of the night I was too upset to have fun. 

Many staff don’t understand my anxiety and depressed. I got suicide thoughts often. I got send to hospital one time without suicide thoughts. They thought I planned to kill myself. I don’t blame them really but stay at the hospital was really terrible. I got sent to the hospital many times during my senior year and there was gossip that I went to the hospital. I was upset because that not their business. They even came up with the reason why I went to the hospital.

I had many counselors during school year. I got two in the school and I saw three in the hospital. When in the senior year we get suicide program in the school. So they asked me fill the paper. They had no idea I feel suicide. The counselor from the hospital had talk with me with the interpreter. I thought it was just paper so no one read it. So I got sent to the hospital for the first time due suicide. So that’s how I get back up plan and safety plan. The counselors were not good enough for me. My counselor right now is the best. One counselors thought I was too low because of education in the school. She told my math teacher I suck at math. 

I had trouble with nurses too. I was very scared to tell them that I need anxiety meds because I had to tell them reason why. The staff gave me meds every morning because I had a hard time to walk in the dark and I can’t walk fast in the morning. So staff was trained to give me meds. One time I was changing clothes I don’t have shirt and binder on he opened the door and saw my boobs. I was so embarrassed.I had to change that. So I told the evening staff happened. The morning staff and evening staff won’t open completely they opened a little and flip the light. 

I got the student sexually touched me few times so I decided I had enough so I told the staff about it . They did nothing about it. I just smiled and leave the classroom. 

My mom found out I was sexually touch after high school. She said I should have told her. So she will do something. I really didn’t tell my parents about what happened at the school.

I got physical therapy and occupational therapy in the school. They really helped me a lot. My occupational therapist seem really understand my mental health. So she helped me find ways to change it. 

I got counselor in the school which I talked a lot to her. She was only the school counselor. So sometimes she helped me change ways in the school. Like in the hallway the poster said my birth name. I told her I will take that down because it said my birth name. She knew I was serious so she changed it. Many students knew my birth name ugh. So I got teased of it. 

I asked my parents to leave this school because I thought it was not safe for me go there anymore. When they said no I got upset. So I had to stay at deaf school in senior year too. I had to leave the school during half senior year because they thought my mental health was really bad and doesn’t let me go to the school. So I needed to finish my education so I moved back to Beachwood. 

I don’t want to tell more stories about the deaf school. That was my experience. Yes there seem more bad than good but that was my experience. It reason why I was scared to have a job or go to college. I am afraid to have life changes but I am glad I am not in school anymore. That was really sucks. Yeah that must nice to be in the school with everyone know sign language but education was very low. I had harder homework and harder classes in Beachwood. The kids were not nice too. So I don’t enjoy this school. I glad I went to transgender group and met some people. I got chance to live in boy dorm. I had some big allies but just that school was terrible too. 

Thank you for reading!

[oursexualexperiencesarewith-blog]

The Evolution of Media And Porn

I’ve been fortunate enough to grow up in a sex positive household. No anatomical question was off limits, and as i’ve gotten older I am understanding why this topic was talked about more often than most families do. Being open to discussion about sex and sexuality comes with a bunch of pros for everyone. You feel more in tune with your body, better body acceptance, confidence in saying “no” to something you are uncomfortable doing sexually, safer sex, and a better sense of self love, etc.  For most young women and men the idea of their sexuality and what sex is like is such a daunting, but exciting thing to tackle when the time comes. Typically, before most people experiment with sex they watch porn, read an erotic magazine, or go to the strip club. By doing this they are discovering what their preferences are; men or women, short or tall, athletic build or skinny, feet, butt, or breasts type of person. Are you a tattoo person or do you want the skin to be clear and smooth? 

After watching a few episodes from the series Hot Girls Wanted: Turned On (Season 1) it really made me realize how much media controls our consumption of porn, and the dangers of media crossing over to the adult industry. The adult film industry wasn’t always so reliant on media just like most things porn needed to grow with the times too. This made me think about the consumption of porn in each generation and how the media has helped us evolve into such a successful industry today. 

Baby boomers had fewer resources to educate themselves on sex and sexuality. Things like Playboy magazines, strip clubs, call girls and VHS tapes were their only options. In an era where sex wasn’t an open topic for conversation it made it harder to learn and explore your seuality in privacy. 

It’s not until the Gen X era that you see the internet as another accessible resource for sex. During this time, porn became more readily available to viewers in a much more discrete way, or so we’d like to think. The internet era made it a dream come true for people who were ashamed of what they found sexually arousing. You no longer needed to go to an adult store to buy or view (and steal???) porn. You had it all inside the comfort of your own home. Because of all these additional technological advancements there's more access, openness, and privacy about sexuality. 

Gen Z is when technology, media, and peoples desires to stay more discrete created much more opportunities for people consuming porn and those working in the industry. The porn sites became more advanced to what people liked, the adult film industry started hiring more diverse women and men, and camming became a popular hobby for most young people who wanted to make some money without ever needing to leave their homes. 

The millennial era is where you start seeing major changes to the adult industry and the connections to what we have learned in our Humanities class so far. The best way to describe the millennial generation in terms of sexuality and the sex industry is how customized it has become, and how sex has become a very common topic in media today. Your sexual experience could be customized to the point where it could replace an actual human. Vice’s show “Slutever” covered this idea in Slutever: Inside the World of VR Porn. Due to the Coronavirus outbreak, the media has completely taken over the porn industry in ways that it has never done before. With stripclubs and adult industry studios being shut down until further notice, creators are needing to use media to their fullest potential in order to lessen the financial blow. How The Porn Industry Is Being Affected By COVID

Have you ever noticed how sex scenes in films made in the boomer generation differ from those in the Gen X era? Or how those differ from the ones we see now? I’d say that the sex scenes that we see today are much more realistic and raw which is why it is so akward when they come on during family movie night. Media has evolved in showing sex, but it’s also evolved in how they show and portray same sex couples, trans, non-binary people, and more! I think we’ve almost seen it all people!!!

OnlyFans is a subscription-based platform that allows for creators, influencers, and business owners to sell their content. However, sex workers have accounted for most of their finnacial sucesses in the past year. For most adult film stars this is the site that they have migrated to while the adult film industry is on temporary shut down. If not on OnlyFans they are camming, or making their own amateur films. People who have never have experience in sex work are using the plartform to get into it, and making a lot of money by doing it! How OnlyFans Changed Sex Work Forever

So how does all of this relate to the things we are learning in class? I think this relates more to all of Week One’s materials because it had to do with social media and technology. The two articles on smartphones in our generation relates directly to what we are seeing in the adult industry now. We are in a time that has forced everyone to learn and use social media in order to stay connected to everyone. Now that work and school are mainly remote our human interaction is little to none. This has been weeding out the people who know how to use it and those who don’t. Same goes for the people in the adult film industry. Those who don’t have much experience in the technical/media side of porn are probably having a harder time adapting to the new way of the industry. Younger people who have grown up using technology are succeeding during this time and possibly making more money than they did before. You see kids who are freshly 18 partaking in camming and OnlyFans because of how similar the algorithms and platforms are to the social media we’ve been using for years. OnlyFans is what I would call a hybrid child of Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter. 

However, when you mix young adults, sexuality, and media together it isn’t always sunshines and rainbows. There are plenty of cons to this industry and just sexuality in general. For example, in this past week's readings on Dana Boyd's "It's Complicated" she studies teenagers behaviors and consumptions of social media. She covered topics like unhealthy sexual encounters and leaked nude images which ties into being harassed/bullied online. Most young people aren’t always aware of the trouble they can get if they are messing around with someone younger than the age of 18 or vice versa. Being young and having access to social media can be dangerous to both parties involved. Younger people can be easily tricked into believing that the person they are talking to is who they say they are. Most young people don’t find it sexy to ask if the other is at least 18, but it’s so important to do. 

Boyd also discussed sexual solicitations which can be used to blackmail or harass someone. 

“With the rise of social media, many safety advocates presumed that sexual solicitations would spike. Repeating their study in 2006 with an identical definition to allow for comparisons, CCRC found that one in seven minors had been sexually solicited online, a 5 percent decline from 2000. 32 Other scholars also found that youth were far more likely to be problematically solicited in online environments that were previously popular but were no longer considered cool.” (Boyd, p. 112)

This reminds me of an Episode from the Netflix show Sex Education in which a photo of Ruby’s genitalia gets sent around the whole school by an “unknown person” to “vagina shame” her. (Spoiler alert) the unknown suspect ends up being Olivia, her best friend who got a hold of the picture and began anonymously sending it around to everyone in the school to get back at her for being a bully. With the creation of phones, smartphones, and social media nudes have been a popular form of communication between young teens and adults. Especially so with the invention of Snapchat in which you can send media and it will go away within 20 seconds. If you screenshot or screen record the other person is notified which has deterred many from partaking in that action, but not everyone. Many people have had their nudes leaked that way which goes to show how social media can have a negative impact on teens and young adults' lives. 

Emma Mackey On The Specific Episode