#where everyone keeps asking me what my deadname is

[theshadowrealmitself]

On the topic of gender thoughts, one thing that’s been difficult to explain to cis people who’ve never really thought of gender before is that I always specify “genderfluid” rather than saying “nonbinary” (they ask for some reason) because in my own understanding of my gender, it doesn’t fit very well, because even tho I do have many days where I’ll feel nonbinary or agender, I also have many days where there’s very much a binary gender going on

And they just. Stare at me like I’m explaining calculus to them.

[pan-withnoplan]

@lakewillowmerewraith let me tell you something about boundaries.

I run a confession blog for a different fandom. It's mostly a positive environment, but as with most fandoms, there are also ship wars, people who thirst for "negative" characters, and occasionally rotten takes. Since the first day, I knew I had to set boundaries, but I also knew that I couldn't let those boundaries be about me and my personal preferences and dislikes. It wouldn't be fair if I deleted positive confessions about my notp/criticising my ships/depicting nsfw headcanons/shipping a beloved character with a hated character.

Because that was a blog that I made, but I made it for everybody in my fandom to feel welcome, not just those who I believed shipped/held the "correct, pure, unproblematic" ships/opinion, and it isn't fair to police real people because of fictional characters. What confessions I could reject, were those who actively hated on real people. For example: “This female character whom some people see as a transfem allegory canonically had a brief relationship with a black woman, so people who ship her with this white male character who was mean to her and "deadnamed" her are all racist, homophobic, and abuse apologists”. And “All X shippers are racist/misogynist/homohobic/etc etc” and “people who say [perfectly harmless thing] are gross/cringe. touch grass” and “stop being so damn [ableist slur]”. Those are the things I need to protect and shield my followers from, not the thirst confessions about the villain who manipulated and betrayed the female character. I also have an extensive tag system that allows people to avoid things they don't want to see. I get inbox that I don't like every day and still, as long as they aren't harmful to real people, I publish them all because it's not about what I want from my blog, it's about enriching my fandom and giving a voice to everybody. I've fucked up occasionally, but I am proud to say that mostly I have been praised for keeping a welcoming, safe, and positive space.

This is what I mean when I say that @elainarcheronweek's mods that have pushed for the decision to have certain Elain ships banned are partial, biased, and unfit to run an event that's supposed to belong to all Elain fans, not just the mods, not just the ones who they believe ship her with the correct character. It's not Healthy Elain Week, it's just Elain Week. And it's despicable that they can just decide to reject fanworks on which real people spent time and energy and feelings, just because they don't like the pairing or they make them feel icky. Because it's just that, right? You said it yourself. Not "fans feel uncomfortable about tamlain and beronlain", it's "the mods have the right to lead their event how they want to". And I say no, it's not only their event, it's Elain's event, Elain's fans's event, and no, they don't have the right to lead that event how they want to if that means punishing fans and creators because of a personal dislike. As I said, they didn't like the "icky" ships and decided to make it everyone else's problem. They "eliminated" the threat of big bad "toxic" elain ships, but they've done nothing to silence the people who accuse tamlain and beronlain shippers of being abuse apologists even when those works contain Tamlin and/or Beron redemption. This is not letting darkfic have the right to exist, it's purity culture. Denying those works a place on the platform out of a personal preference is quite literally censorship.

"But fans really have been feeling uncomfortable with tamlain and beronlain! What about them?" So use the fucking tag system. Make a post where you explain there will be works thay might trigger people and tell them to block the tamlain and beronlain tags. Ask people to suggest other potential triggers so you can update the list. Include the list of potential triggering tags in the master post. It's that simple and it would have saved the whole fandom a lot of drama and disappointment. It's always so baffling for me to think that grown ass people refuse to curate their own browsing experience or ignore the things that they dislike.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for changing my (30 FtM) name?

I was born with a very angrogynous/masculine name. For the sake of this post we'll say it's Alex Andrew Lastname. I was bullied for it growing up and can often see on people's faces that they were expecting someone different when they see my name first. I never liked my name growing up because I didn't think I fit the vibe. I'm just not an "Alex". But honestly, if I ever fully pass, that could change.

I recognize I've hit the trans guy jackpot. I've seen quite a few trans men change their names to my birth name, first and middle. Logically, I'd never have to change it for safety or validation reasons.

I've been using a different name for years now. My partner of 10 years doesn't know me by another name and cringes when we have to use Alex for legal paperwork. This name has been public knowledge to everyone including my family for about 8 years. We'll say this new name is "Elijah" (it is not)

The problem arises when I bring up my final legal name choice to my mom.

"Why that? I would have never named you that. I don't think it suits you." I double down and explain I like the name and don't mind the religious connotation (we went to church but she's always appropriated eastern religions, I am not religious) Additionally, SHE should have been using it all this time, even when I'm not there. She complains. "Can't I still call you Alex? I mean, I gave birth to you, I should still be able to call you Alex. I gave you that name because it was androgynous and cool, why do you want to change it?" I tell her again, no. If she's the only person deadnaming me, other people will feel they have the right to. "Can I call you Al?" No, sorry. "Can I call you Andrew? I named you after your uncle, he didn't do anything wrong."

Because she's pushing back so much, I tell her the truth. Growing up, she was abusive and negligent. When she did use my name, she said it like she hated me. When I was in trouble, when she was disagreeing with me, when she bullied me. She didn't really say my name in rare situations where she was proud because she was jealous and focused on making sure everyone knew I was cool and "unique" because I was "her kid". Because of it, I cringe when I hear my birth name. It's a strong name, a good name, even, but it makes me feel small and tired. I told her I was proud of her going to therapy, that we could start over, but that I'm asking to be respected as a person.

Shortly after I was born, she asked my grandma to draw up a tattoo of my deadname. It's a large, dark piece on her entire lower back. I told her I don't expect her to cover it, that she can keep it and mourn the name however she feels, but I'd like to get a matching, small tattoo with her to celebrate my new name if she's interested. She didn't really respond. She finally said she still doesn't like the name Elijah, but asked if she could call me Eli (yeah, obviously)

Despite all of this reaching some sort of compromise, I've heard I've made a bad decision from both sides. Some think I was too gentle and understanding and should have essentially said "fuck you this is my name take it or leave it". Others think I should have kept my deadname because there was nothing wrong with it, I'm being too emotional about it, or that I'm choosing to inconvenience others by changing things age 30. There's also the idea that no one really likes their name so it's not a great reason to change it.

AITA for having no real reason to change my name and doing so anyway?

What are these acronyms?

[quinnhills]

you have any words of encouragement for trans youths(and i say youths like be being 25 wouldn't auto qualify me as one to some folk)

Being trans can be very lonely and difficult. Find folks who understand you and truly love you. Whether they’re online or offline, chosen family is everything. Cling to them.

Be authentically yourself if you can. Don’t hide who you are simply for someone else’s sake. You’re incredible and amazing. Don’t push all that down if you can safely be yourself.

If you live with unsafe people, find a way to leave them. They might say they love you, but it’s not really love if they’ll only love you if you stay in the closet or keep your deadname or present the way they want you to. There are resources to get you to a safe place. You are not alone.

Don’t be afraid to ask for help with your mental health. Therapy is one of the best things I’ve ever done. I’ve learned to manage my depression and anxiety. I’ve learned to manage my dysphoria where it doesn’t have to ruin my day or someone else’s. Those parts of my brain will always be there, but now I have some power to control how they affect me. I am doing things I never dreamed of before therapy. Find a trans or queer therapist if you can.

Do what you love: Play, create, build, climb. Find things that bring you joy and do them whenever you can.

Your existence is resistance. Waking up every day and choosing to be yourself in the world is a radical act. You are enough. You’re doing enough.

If you do have the energy and feel safe to get involved, please try. We’re all in this together. The liberation of trans people is directly tied to the liberation of all peoples around the world.

We all deserve to live without worries about who we are and how everyone else views us. I believe that day will come.

Every breath we breathe takes courage. Life will be scary. It will be hard. But it will also be beautiful and warm and exhilarating and worthwhile.

I see you. I love you. I’m here if you need me.

Keep going ❤️

[jewish-vents]

I can't with this anymore uhhhhhhggggg

"AITAH for creating a private doc to keep notes on what my racist teacher said"

I have this teacher who said a lot of shit (eg. "Ashkenazi people were Europeans forcefully converted by invading Jews", "the Torah mentions Jesus and Mohammed", "Judaism started in Ethiopia because it's the oldest religion and therefore must come from where all people do", "getting angry at Houthis for attacking Israel is like getting angry at a l*nched man for struggling on the noose", etc.). No one cared that she said these things besides a boy she kept deadnaming, a girl who she used as an example talking about slave r*pe, and a kid who she humiliated in front of the class a few times.

When I reported this shit to the dean he was concerned as fuck and 100000% on my side because he's really cool. And to report the stuff, I'd been using a private google doc to keep track of what she'd said. The principal though was overly optimistic and decided instead of talking to the teacher in private, she would hold a class discussion! Yaaaaaaayyyyyyy. I was less than pleased by this, and at the discussion most people took her side. I eventually decided to share the doc with the other three kids so I could get better firsthand accounts.

But then the doc started spreading.

One of the other kids shared it with this boy who she used to mock and throw under the bus, and he shared it with his friend. Who shared it with another friend. Things went like whisper-down-the-lane until someone, I don't know WHO, got a hold of it and shared it to the whole. Fucking. Class. Including the teacher. People started claiming the doc was Islamophobic and didn't elaborate why, and saying we were only "attacking" the teacher because she was Muslim. Or that we only reported this stuff to get drama and attention. The principal herself even said that this was happening because we have varying cultures, which is BS because I have plenty of Muslim friends who have never said ANY of the shit this lady has. That is waaaayyyy more Islamophobic of a statement and I felt offended on my friends' behalf with that one.

I feel bad for the teacher for seeing that doc, but then again, I myself am suffering because someone leaked all my personal opinions to the class. I'm a super conflict avoidant person because I have severe ADHD and OCD and mild autism (ASD1, to be specific), and I hate being involved. I want to sympathize for her. I really do. But when asked to apologize for what she said, she started defending herself and saying we were all closed-minded for not thinking what we previously thought was wrong. My mom wants to take me out of the class to do an independent study project so I can pass the required course without being in that classroom. Because nothing gets in the way of Jewish parents. Especially during Passover.

My classmates are saying she's a sweet lady and it was wrong of us to get upset at her, so are we the bad guys and/or am I overreacting to this scenario.

Anon I'm going to be very honest here. You are absolutely NTA here. And you're not overreacting at all. Your teacher is being very offensive, not to mention historically wrong.

And the doc? If she didn't want to have her offensive opinions called out in front of everyone, maybe she should stop being offensive.

I'm going to say, personally if she were my teacher the doc would be the least of her problems. She would not like me very much.

I hope you're safe tho, you and the other students she's hurt. You don't deserve to be treated like this

-🐺

[tvbyw0by]

P.2 w/ ftm reader !!

Armed detective agency,

Yosano, Dazai, Ranpo, Atsushi, Fukuzawa, Tanizaki siblings, Kyoka & Kenji present

Warnings: Transphobia(parents kick you out), angst w/ comfort, 13yr old reader, deadnaming(accidental.)

For the sake of this, everyone lives in the dorms & such

[NAME POV]

If you were to tell me that 3 hours ago, I would've ended up getting kicked out of my parents home for being transgender.. I would've believed you.

Because I DID, and now I'm standing outside kenjis dorm room, with tears streaming down my face.

I hesitated before knocking on the door, making sure to keep quiet so no one besides Kenji would hear.

After a couple minutes, a tired yet smiling kenji opened the door, glancing at me before he fully awoke, his eyes wide as he pulled me inside worriedly.

I wasn't part of the agency he worked at, yet I knew everyone, and everyone knew me.

"Are you okay, [DEAD.NAME]?! What happened,?!"

I didn't even care he dead named me, I was just a sobbing mess as I hugged him tightly,

"K-Kenji.. they k--kicked me out!"

My words came out stuttered and jumbled as I cried, tightening my grip on my friend,

----------------

Kenjis eyes widened before they narrowed, he no longer had that happy aura around him as he frowned at you worriedly,

"...come on,"

He saw how much you needed sleep, and he himself needed some before he could talk to you,

He lead the two of you to his small room, laying you down on an extra futon close to his as he laid down on his,

The two of you kept your pinkies interlocked as you both faded into sleep, shallow sobs quieting down.

You and Kenji sat on his couch, him staring at you with a gentle smile on his face, waiting for you to explain everything.

"My.."

He perked up once he realized you were about to explain, at first he was glad you were opening up about why you appeared at his front door at 1am in the morning, sure he knew your parents,... kicked you out, but you never said why,.

"Kenji.. I came out to them that, I'm.. trans"

Your hands shot up and you did little unsure jazz hands as kenjis smile remained on his face, he grabbed your hands,

"Oh? You're trans??" His smile remained bright despite the dark thoughts from him being mad at the ones who were called your parents,

"mhm.. my names [NAME]"

When you and kenji walked into the agency, everyone was happy to see you,

You had decided to tell them, and when you did you got nothing but praises and soothing reactions,

They decided to have you living with Kenji in the dorms, considering you not only would be living with someone around your age, but also safe in the dorms with all of them

When you actually told them about your parents, the room visibly became dark, they were all, greatly pissed off with your parents,

ESPECIALLY kyouka.

You, kyouka and kenji were like three peas in a pod, so it was only natural that she react badly to your parents,

The first thing that Kunikida did was buy you a binder, and then wrote a whole schedule to make sure you didn't wear it to long to damage yourself,

Yosano ended up cutting your hair with the help of Naomi!

And then Tanizaki styled it to look kinda like his own hairstyle, but kept it to where you can style it to look like others

Fukuzawa ended up getting legal custody over you, and with his parental rights helped you change your name legally!!

Dazai, who actually has a really good sense of style, helped you pick out clothes you found comfortable that made you feel like your true self,

You had a fashion show wearing some suits and everyone complimented you on looking handsome

Ranpo would contact Poe and force ask him to buy a whole different kind of binders simply because he thought maybe you would want some different ones, just because sometimes since you are naturally friends with the agency, you may get caught into the middle of the fights!!

Kyouka would start following you EVERYWHERE to be honest, shes your friend, and she knows how society normally reacts to LGBTQ+..

Whenever someone gives you a weird glance of disgust, kyouka, alongside Atsushi would glare at them, both doing their own intimidating acts..

[your-queer-dad]

dad! I talked to the princapal and got the right name on some papers and also he said he’d talk to all the staff

later that day a different teacher came up to me and pulled me asided and asked me if she was the one who misgendered me she was really worried and said if she did she’s sorry and she asked if I was ok and stuff she’s alright sometimes I wish it was all the time

anyway back to the shitty teacher she’s just been avoiding me I think I haven’t heard her talk about me or to me the entire while

the principal said that none of this was on purpose but like bro she’s been screaming and misgendering and she’ll be super ableist and visibly homophobic not letting boys sit near eachother and saying how like boys can’t have stuffed animals and we’re to old for itshit whenever we’d bring toys to school but she lets the girls do it! and she’ll go on rants about how boys shouldn’t to this or be this etc and how girls can’t act like this blah blah blah and it’s like hell yeah she meant it the fuck

anyway she’s either lying to him or he’s covering for her either way this is annoying he kept trying to like idk smooth it over and it’s like dude I don’t need to be best friends with her just tell her to stop being a massive pile of shit

also I got my blood drawn and they kept deadnaming me and saying how oh well when you get your name legally changed then we can call you whatever you want. And it’s like sure but you could also call me my name right now motherfucker. My mom made a comment like only a couple more months because I’ll be turning eighteen soon and I called her out cause she does this thing where she pretends to be a good mom and a ally in public but actually she’s been keeping me from transitioning and she sent me terf books and called me a demon spawn and threatens me like all the time etc and then in the car after the appointment in the car I told her she’s making excuses for the nurses and they didn’t have to deadname me and then she got mad like really fucking mad and she went all quiet and started driving crazy like dangerous crazy she does that a lot and it’s a miracle she hasn’t gotten me in a car crash I’m at home now I know she’s not safe not just from the car thing just in general she’s violent and threatens a lot and she does this thing where when she gets mad she’ll grab the back of my neck real hard and drag me around like a damn rubber chicken I started walking behind her to avoid it so it hasn’t happened in a while but idk man everything really pisses me off this is all bullshit and I’m so sick of everyone just excusing it all you feel me also some girl at school keeps coming up behind me and squeezing my neck and it keeps fucking with me cause of what my mom does that girl keeps hitting on me to she won’t leave me alone and this always fucking happens dude she’s like threatening and making jokes about sexually assaulting me and I’m like bro??? The fuck?? My parents don’t care I’ll tell the principal if it gets worse but with the way he is he’ll probably be like oh she didn’t mean it she’s so young she was just joking try to be friends she’s just a little girl blah blah blah I hate how adults justify all this shit I just want someone to call it out or get mad on my behalf for once why won’t anybody ever defend me I’ve been dealing with this for eighteen years the same shit over and over from everyone I’m just a kid to and no one ever stepped in

Hey kiddo, I am so sorry you have all of that shit to deal with, that's awful. I'm really proud of you for telling the principal and that teacher came to check that they were being okay. How your mom treats you is awful and you don't deserve any of that. I am so sorry she has been doing that. You have so much awful things happening to you and it isn't fair, not at all.

- dad x

[ssa-atlas-alvez]

I absolutely love your writing and the way you write the Criminal Minds characters is just *chef's kiss*🤌

I was wondering if you could write something with Spencer x ftm Reader. Preferably something angsty but with a happy ending.

Maybe something like where the reader's dad/mom is in town and goes to his work to visit him and they keep misgendering him and when he tries to correct them they just dismiss him.

Maybe reader gives Spencer a look as to say "don't even bother". If the rest of the team notive maybe they come to his aid and basically kick out his family member. Lots of comfort from Spencer after.

Sorry if it's too long or confusing. You don't have to but I would love it if you did.

Thank you💕💕

warnings: deadnaming (D/N), transphobia, unaccepting parents, outing in the work place,

"(D/N)!" You freeze immediately. As does Spencer beside you.

"Who's (D/N)?" You hear Morgan whisper to Prentiss, followed by Prentiss whispering back that she didn't know. You look at Spencer, trying to gather the courage to turn around. And your dad is staring at you, you put on a fake smile.

"Dad, I've told you, it's (Y/N) now," You correct lightly, making sure to smile, the last thing you wanted was for him to get offended. You ignore the team (minus Spencer) sharing confused looks.

"You know I'm not going to remember that, I've got so much on my mind right how, what with your brother-"

"How is Danny?" You ask, hoping to change the subject.

"He misses his sister and he wants to know when you're coming back home,"

"Dad-" You sigh, dragging a hand over your face, "I told you, I'm his brother-"

"Don't be ridiculous, (D/N)." Your dad snaps, you sigh yet again, deciding not to bite back this time.

"Has Danny sorted out what college he wants to go to yet?"

"He doesn't want to go." The tone indicates that your father doesn't want to talk about it any more, so you drop it.

"How's work been?"

"Fine." He answers with a shrug. “Anyway, how’s my favourite daughter getting on?”

You try and hide the stress, but you know in a team of profilers it doesn’t exactly work. No. Instead, your team pick up on it immediately. Spencer meets your eyes and with the slight tilt of his head and the raise of an eyebrow, you know he’s offering to stand up for you, to correct your father. You shake your head, not wanting the unnecessary drama. 

 "When are you coming home?" He asks, unaware of the tension building in the bullpen - or he notices and just doesn’t give a crap, you aren’t too sure. 

"Dad, I told you, I'm staying here. I’ve got a good job," You hope he takes the hint of ‘I’ve got a good job don’t you dare ruin that for me or so help me God’. “I’m doing good here.”

He scoffs loudly, “We’ll see how long that lasts.”

“Remember that you’re the one that told me to leave.” You reminded and everyone (your father included) freezes. 

“How dare you-”

“I dare.” Your reply is instant. “Look, dad, I’ve got work to do. I finish at about six. You know where I live, the spare key is under the plant pot. Why don’t you just hang out there for a while and we can talk after I finish work?”

You hope he takes the suggestion, but he shakes his head. “No. We’re getting to the bottom of this now. I’m not having a freak as a daughter-”

“Lucky for you you’ve got a freak as a son, so you’re halfway there.” You snap. 

Morgan and Hotch both step forward and you flush, remembering that your team are here. “We’re going to have to ask you to leave.” Hotch states. 

Your dad laughs bitterly, looking past them at you, “We’ll see how long you last in the real world, (D/N).” And with that, he leaves. And your anxiety doubles. Because now you have to answer to your team. 

You look at Morgan and Hotch, “Thanks for that,” You mumbled, rubbing the back of your neck awkwardly.

“Don’t mention it,” Morgan shrugged.

Hotch furrowed his eyebrows, watching you shift nervously, “I think we should talk in private for a moment.”

Your hand shoots to Spencer’s instinctively. “With Spencer?” Hotch nods. 

You reach Hotch’s office, you all taking a seat, Spencer’s hand still clutched in yours - your mind running through all the possibilities, all ending badly. 

“Are you alright?” Is the first question that leaves Hotch’s mouth. You look at him, unsure but nod. “Alright, obviously you’re not obliged to go into detail about what that was, but we’re all here for you, should you want to.” He continued, “And I can talk to the team and tell them not to ask you about it if you’d like as well.”

“I don’t mind,” You answered honestly, “But it might have to be in about half an hour. I think I just need a minute.”

“Of course,” Hotch said, standing up, “Use my office, I was coming down for a coffee anyway.” He paused for a moment, “Take as much time as you need.”

“Thank you, sir.”

When Hotch left and the door was shut behind him, Reid turned to you, “Are you okay?” You nodded before taking a deep breath. Reid looked at you before reaching forward, bringing you into a warm embrace. “I’m so proud of you for how you handled that.”

“I was a shaking mess.”

“But you showed him how badass you are,” Spencer smiled as you nodded with a small laugh.

“Yeah. I showed him.”

[baileythebean]

Vent below the cut so HUUUUGE trigger warning.

So usually I vent in my dad’s (Anomaly’s) DMs because he’s great at comforting me, but Im too pissed for this right now and I dont want to bother him. I swear I am so fucking close to actually killing myself, it’s scary.

My mom has an aversion to me ever binding. I am transmasc (FtM), and I am out to my parents. My mom claims to be a “good”, “supportive” mom, and I do occasionally have moments where I’m like “oh yeah, she’s making progress, she’s learning! :)” and then it’s always fucking ruined by saying things like “well Bailey is your nickname, your name is [deadname].” - “well you’re still biologically female.” - lots of bullshit little jabs at me whenever I ACTUALLY get brave enough to talk about my identity, which is rarely. Unfortunately, any chances of me getting a binder were ruined when I just asked her flat-out. I said it was for cosplay, just to play it safe, and it was still a hard no because “It destroys your body!” - “You wont develop properly!” - “You’ll regret it!” Along with several long rants about ALL the research she’s done, (probably barely any, and it was most likely on social media) and all the stories she’s heard about people who regretted surgery or just transitioning in general and had lawsuits for them, which is like, very low. The regret rate for transitioning is in the DECIMALS and yet she refuses to acknowledge that. We also have a history with suicide, as that’s how my dad left us, and yet she either hasn’t seen or doesnt care about trans suicide rates BECAUSE of being denied affirming care or harassment?? Anyways, here’s where my shit show of a story starts. I managed to get by fine with layering sports bras for a while and just not wearing anything tight-fitting. I figured she’d warm up to it eventually. But recently, I got a new cosplay (Venti from Genshin Impact) which involves a corset, and even if I layer or adjust the shirt, makes my chest look very weird if I dont bind. I started feeling more dysphoria than ever in my life and made a plan to get a binder before my first time wearing the costume. Said plan succeeded, and I had my friend get me the right sized binder at a birthday party one day through a queer kids program that offered them for free. I was so happy and started wearing it to get used to it and break it in since that day. Unfortunately, today I made the mistake of leaving it on my bed visibly.

My mom also has a terrible habit of going into my room and my spaces to clean, even though I usually do it myself anyway, and I LITERALLY FUCKING TELL HER NOT TO EVERY. SINGLE. TIME. I dont want her touching my stuff EVER, not just when I’m trying to keep something from her. I told her to stop and she kept picking up trash, and she spotted it. She questioned me about it, and I caved, telling her what it is, how its been considered medically safe, and reciting like, ALL the safety instructions from the top of my head, hoping it would give me a chance at keeping it. I failed. I got yelled at for destroying my body, ETC ETC. finally, she says that she needs to keep my binder in her room so she can make sure I ONLY use it for cosplay and I’m pretty sure she’ll check if I’m wearing it every day.

Then this bitch PUTS MY BINDER ON and tells me it’s too tight. First, it’s supposed to be. Second, THATS NOT YOUR SIZE. I’m sobbing my eyes out right now, and the only thing keeping me alive is my boyfriend, and a literal fictional character. I want to tear my flesh from my bones when she tells me that puberty sucks for everyone, and she doesnt get the fact that it’s a million times worse for me because I’M A BOY. I’ll be lucky if I make it to the end of the year. I’m just done. I want it to be over. Someone come and end it for me, please. I cant take any more.

[l0veraven]

Wrapping up today's events

(For full context, refer to today's posts in the #leasebound tag)

Unfortunately, someone pulled up into a Leasebound fan's ask box and decided to submit a rape fantasy scenario between Shez (a butch lesbian) and Brick (a bigender asexual) to basically "screw the asexuality out of them."

My circle of Leasebound anti's still are unaware of any specific individual within our community submitting it, but we know whoever did it won't come forward to admit their bullshit. As a community, we have made it a point to declare that we do not condone the behavior of the person who submitted the ask, regardless of whether or not they were within our circle. Obviously, neither side wants to claim the person and points fingers at the opposition, but at the end of the day, we can't prove "which side" did what unless the person admits it / someone is able to confirm who it was.

While it may have seemed as though we were glossing over what was going on, it wasn't because we agreed with what was happening. It's because what was said in the ask directly mirrors the other asks being sent in about basically "fucking the gendie ideology" out of Blaire and even Eli (both queer-affirming characters). I say queer-affirming because they're accepting of everyone that falls under the LGBTQ+ spectrum.

I won't call out the blogs by name, but it's also not that hard to find their posts.

Something that piqued my interest is how these fantasies only came to an abrupt stop the moment a Butch Lesbian™️ got involved. Aside from Ruth, Blossom, Murphy, and Ari, Shez is one of the more prominent butch characters.

In the following screenshot, I pointed out this particular ask that one Leasebound fan received (the one who ultimately received the horrific ask):

Screenshot 1: Riley (andro/butch[?] lesbian) x Blaire (femme bi) x Jaden (andro/butch[?] lesbian)

[I only put question marks because I personally can't tell whether the two have a tomboy appearance or fall more under butch, but that's not the point]

Anon: "Riley has to keep giving Blaire orgasms to stop her from trying to discuss gender with Jaden."

Fan: "Fucking quick time event threesome at that point" and "The slapstick potential is strong."

I also sent this in direct response to how this mirrored what the fan received later on:

Me: "I don't want to hear anybody defend this line of thinking at all," "This is not okay," and "This has similar energy of corrective rape, if not, outright so."

I then provide the example by reframing the previously shown ask:

-> "Man has to keep giving woman orgasms to stop her from trying to discuss being a lesbian with her male friends."

Directly following this example, I pointed out how that sounds predatory as hell.

I elaborated further:

The fan didn't condemn the fantasy being portrayed, yet I gave the fan the benefit of the doubt that she maybe didn't realize the implications of what was being described. After all, even I'm blind to certain things until they're pointed out to me or after I've sat with things for more than two hours/days. It happens.

I ended by offering the fan the opportunity to explain where I may have misinterpreted things.

"You're also more than welcome to prove me wrong." "Help us understand your point of view."

And no reply was made to this reblog from any Leasebound fan that could defend their positions.

A fellow Leasebound anti provided more screenshots of other similar rape fantasies being submitted without a care to what was being depicted.

Screenshot 2: Eli x Self-Insert

The fans continually deadname, misgender, etc. all trans characters, so that'll explain my pronoun differences.

Anon jokes about Eli's idea of sex, but then the same fan blog from earlier decides to create an... interesting scenario.

Fan: "I ask [him] if either of us is eating pussy that night and [he] tried to hide [their] visible disgust," and "I then ask if either of us is gonna finger blast the other."

This scenario on its own is already acknowledging AND dismissing Eli's discomfort of the topic, but then the fan pushes past an implied boundary (visible signs of discomfort).

Lets put this in perspective of if a man were involved.

"The man asks the woman if either of them were getting head that night, and she tried to hide her visible disgust. He then asks if he was gonna pound her."

I hope I don't need to explain why this is just blatant rape. Pressuring someone into sex is rape. No questions asked.

If you try to force feed someone a hot dog that doesn't want to eat a hot dog, that's violating their bodily autonomy.

This same idea applies to sex. If you don't understand this, please learn about consent, especially in the context of sex.

Screenshot 3: Riley x Blaire x Jaden (again)

Anon: "Having a threesome would solve everything." "[Blaire and Jaden] wouldn't even be able to accidentally discuss gender because they were too tired from all the orgasms." "Problem solved"

Do you see how often the word "solved" is popping up? "Gender" as a concept is so much of a problem that sex will ultimately "solve" the problem of it being brought up?

Example: "A man fucking a woman would solve everything. She wouldn't even be able to accidentally discuss being a lesbian because she was too tired from all the orgasms."

This scenario is describing using sex as a way to control "undesirable" conversations. Strange, isn't it?"

I know the terfs get a kick out of calling Leasebound antis braindead... but have you seen what yall are saying? And yall are the ones showing up anonymous in the ask boxes and receiving no repercussions. You claim these anons and don't have any issues with it.

But it all comes to a screeching halt when you bring in Shez.

Screenshot 4: Shez [butch lesbian] x Brick [bigender asexual]

Anon: "[Shez fucks Brick] to break her out of that stupid aspec bullshit and show her joys of being lesbian" and the odd statement of "Shez manhandling."

I'm not saying the anon was or was not a Leasebound fan. That is not what this post is about.

It's about highlighting how it mirrors what fans have already been discussing during their own self-admitted horny posting.

I'll put it out there that the fan blog immediately shut this anon down. Didn't even entertain the thought of the scenario. Absolutely despicable in her eyes, and frankly, is despicable in my eyes too. No one should have sent this to anyone. This is honestly foul and, as I have repeated many times in the past 24 hours, I do not condone this and anyone like this needs to be barred from shared spaces.

It's also worth pointing out the term "manhandling" in this screenshot. Obviously, butch women are seen as strong, traditionally masculine, and more. However, there's something more nefarious with this term being used in this scenario. Manhandling directly means using force/aggression. This isn't even in a ~ooh, sexy~ way. No, this is straight up evil. I do feel as though the term manhandling was homophobic in nature, whether the anon meant that or not. It's not a good look to associate butch lesbians with being forceful sex pests. Lesbians deserve respect. Period.

I'll continue to put an example to further illustrate my point, but I'm sure you understand what's gonna be said.

Example: "Man fucks woman to break her out of that stupid lesbian bullshit and shows her the joys of being straight."

Now lets put it all together

Fantasy #1: "Riley has to keep giving Blaire orgasms to stop her from trying to discuss gender with Jaden." - Fan endorsed the statement

Fantasy #2: "I ask [him] if either of us is eating pussy that night and [he] tried to hide [their] visible disgust," and "I then ask if either of us is gonna finger blast the other." - Written by the fan

Fantasy #3: "Having a threesome would solve everything." "[Blaire and Jaden] wouldn't even be able to accidentally discuss gender because they were too tired from all the orgasms." "Problem solved" - Fan endorsed the statement

Fantasy #4: "[Shez fucks Brick] to break her out of that stupid aspec bullshit and show her joys of being lesbian" and the odd statement of "Shez manhandling." - No one liked this

And compare them to their associated examples:

Example #1: "Man has to keep giving woman orgasms to stop her from trying to discuss being a lesbian with her male friends."

Example #2: "The man asks the woman if either of them were getting head that night, and she tried to hide her visible disgust. He then asks if he was gonna pound her."

Example #3: "A man fucking a woman would solve everything. She wouldn't even be able to accidentally discuss being a lesbian because she was too tired from all the orgasms."

Example #4: "Man fucks woman to break her out of that stupid lesbian bullshit and shows her the joys of being straight."

All of the examples explicitly describe the woman as a lesbian because the root of the matter is that lesbians are the primary focus of the fandom. It's literally what Leasebound is built off of (aside from rampant queerphobia and even dissing some lesbians for certain traits).

All the examples feature a man because if you were to put a man in any of these scenarios, everyone would easily see how fucked up these scenarios were from the very start. Also, it shows parallels with the "manhandling" comment. If a lesbian manhandles another "woman," it's hot, but if a man decides to manhandle a woman, it's universally understood to be a fucking crime.

And within the fandom: If a lesbian fucks the gender ideology from another "woman," then they'll shut up about it.

Concluding Statement

I don't plan on revisiting today's event because I think everyone said what needs to be said, but I wanted to compile everything in one comprehensive post. I'm not trying to call out specific fans. However, this behavior is clearly being endorsed until a butch lesbian gets involved. Maybe don't excuse shitty rape fantasies and this won't happen again?

If you do end up finding out who these blogs are, DO NOT HARRASS THEM. I don't care if you dislike them. Trust me, I dislike them too. That doesn't give you an excuse to be a piece of shit.

If I catch any of yall doing some foul shit like what I discussed in this post, you're not gonna be welcome anywhere I am. Tbh, I feel as though you're a danger to people as a collective.

Be decent human beings for the love of god.

And please, don't publicize your rape fantasies. Keep them in circles where the average person can easily avoid them.

Thanks

[girldragongizzard]

Chapter 8: The disaster

The officer who’s been talking turns on a flashlight and shines it through the window of the door into the rest of the cafe and swings it around, squinting. I look away before the light passes over me. There isn’t much point to what he’s doing, because the shop lights are on, but he’s clearly doing it to be an asshole.

Then he states, “We’d like to interview the others in your establishment.”

“I’ll ask them if they’ve seen him,” Kimberly says. Then she turns to the rest of us and shouts, “Have any of you seen [deadname] or know where he is?”

We all shake our heads. 

I don’t look back to acknowledge while I do this, just in case my retinas are reflective. I am in my human disguise, but that only works if one of my tells doesn’t give it away.

“Nope!” Kimberly reports back to the police officer.

“We’d like to search the premises.”

“You’ll have to come back with a warrant to do that.”

“We can do that,” the officer says with a bit more volume and irritation. “What are you all doing in there?”

“After hours staff meeting, sir,” Kimberly reports.

Nathan is doing a great job of looking official and imposing, without looking exactly threatening, while standing next to Kimberly. He’d normally be the one to talk to the police like this, and he’s usually very good at it. But Kimberly beat him to the punch.

The officer scowls and says something to his partner, then asks, “What about?”

“The dragon,” Kimberly says, looking a bit more serious and earnest. “We need to figure out what to do about her. She’s turning out to be a real disaster.”

That does not go over my head, and I cannot believe she just said that with an even tone of voice.

Miriam smirks and stifles a snicker.

Jill shushes her.

And it’s at that the officer relaxes.

“That’s understandable,” he says a bit less audibly. Then louder again, “You let us know if you see him again. You call it in, you hear? We’ll take care of him. Have a good night, and don’t stay here too late.”

“You got it! Yes, sir!”

As the police go about leaving, Kimberly and Nathan make their way back to our circle.

And Ptarmigan puts her sketchbook away and says, “I can do that all night, every night.”

“Do what?” Kimberly asks.

“Subtly keep the authorities from really bothering you.”

“Why were they here in the first place, then?”

“Extreme circumstances, and I slipped up,” Ptarmigan replies. “Fixed it, though. This probably works out better, anyway.”

“How so?”

“They came, they saw, and they feel like they did their job,” the Artist of Nightmares explains.

Cerce leans forward, “So, now Meg is wanted on suspicion for causing a car wreck?”

“Anurak says she didn’t even come near it,” Caleb speaks up, looking at his phone.

“I didn’t,” I type. “That was Anurak. I was in the sky, though. Circling. Everyone saw me. Interested.” It’s so much easier for me to report facts now, but I think I’m coming back to myself from being stunned by the onslaught of “observations” from my friends.

It’s weird. The shock of adrenaline from the police makes it easier for me to think. It’s washed my other emotions free of my mind.

Rhoda really did invite me to spend the night with her, if I get really serious about something.

She said that if this was just a story, then what she’d been doing was something she never wanted to do. The role she was playing. And it doesn’t occur to me right away what role that was. So I consider her next statement that I remember, which was that if it all wasn’t just a story, she wasn’t doing everything for just me.

I thought we were doing everything for each other. Well. OK, for all the dragons in the city, originally, which is basically for me, yes. But once we’d identified just who and what Säure is, then it became clear the scope of things.

Except, it kind of starts to hit me. Probably because of the whole useless lesbian disaster thing.

What was Rhoda doing just before she left? She was telling me who and what I was.

That’s all she did in this meeting. And I wasn’t really ready to hear it. Which is pretty typical of the hero of a sto – Ah.

I start to sink in my chair, I feel so fucking embarrassed.

I think I can puzzle this out so many different ways in the framework I’ve made for myself.

Like, if I’m a story and a myth, like I’ve come to believe thanks to Wentin, then maybe I can’t be the hero. The hero would be someone else.

And I think I can make that fit a lot of the point that Rhoda might have been trying to make, but not all of it. Except she explicitly said, she doesn’t see me as a story or a myth. And the others agree.

Maybe I’m the story of a dragon who’s become a person. A story who’s become a person. Like Kim, Cerce, and Kimberly were saying. But then, that means I’m just a person now. Like I’d been striving to believe and fight for a few weeks ago.

But, if that’s the case, then how can I break physics with the power of narrative like I’ve done?

Do I have to choose? One thing or the other? The solidarity and comfort of being a person, or the power of being a myth?

I think I know which one I’d rather have, honestly, but the consequences scare me shitless.

As everyone is settling back down while talking about the encounter with the cops, and my brooding thoughts are dragging me further into my seat, Wentin makes a spooky whistling noise behind me and then speaks up.

“I am also done here,” it declares. “Meghan, I have more training for you. When you are ready for it, find me in the places you fear the most.”

And then it’s gone before anybody looks.

And I have a full body flashback.

—

Something small and hard hits me in the back of my right shoulder as I’m crouched over the Tonka tractor in the school sandbox. It bounces off me, stinging, and I see the rock arc over my head and land in the dirt.

It’s noon, of course, being lunch, and there’s enough sun that my shadow is stark against the ground beside me.

When this happened, I had turned to face my assailants, four of the boys. And the big sandy blonde one had been yelling at me. And nothing after that went down the way I would have liked.

But this time, out of the corner of my eye I see my shadow transform and unfold as I crouch forward onto all four legs, stretching wings, tail and neck out, to work out the kinks, and screech.

And this time, when I turn, my vision widening as I do to encompass the entire schoolyard as it should, what I see are children desperately trying to turn and run fast enough to get away from me.

My prey drive kicks in and I chase them down, just as I did in my imagination a hundred times over that day.

The visit to the nurse’s office will be different this time.

It won’t be my blood.

—

I may have snarled, but I’m surrounded by friends in my favorite coffee shop.

“Hey, Meghan,” Bri asks, “Are you OK?”

Chairs are knocked over and I’m no longer disguised. I’m fully me.

No one’s hurt, but I probably should have gone to counseling today.

I look around and find my tablet on the floor below my chest, so I draw it out and type, “Startled. Wentin did something. I think.”

I think.

“Yeah, it does that to me too,” Nathan says.

“I go,” I say. “Need alone.” Then I pick up my tablet and start putting it into my purse.

But Kimberly comes forward and says, “Hey, it’s OK. You just had a fight today with the biggest dragon anyone’s seen. We’re all jumpy. Have a sit down and I’ll make you some tea. I think we’ve got more planning to do after you’ve calmed down. Like about how you’re gonna go up and see Rhoda.”

“No,” I say.

I mean, she’s right. That’s what I need to do. But I’m not ready to do it. And to get myself ready, safely, I think I need my rooftop, as dangerous as that might be.

It’s way past sunset.

But I’ll be awake, pacing. I’ll be ready if Säure tries anything.

“No,” I repeat and finish what I’m doing. “Me. Go. Now.”

Cerce leans over to look Kimberly in the face and says, “Let her go. I think she knows what she needs. We’ve got this.” Then to me, “Meghan, we’ve got this. We’ll figure this all out. We’ve got all the knowledge and the tools. You take all the time you need.”

“It’s true,” Ptarmigan says, and Chapman looks at her.

“Hold up,” Chapman says, and rushes over to my side as I’m headed for the door. Sie looks me in the eye. I don’t even need to turn my head. And sie says, “I’m gonna come up there. Just for a few minutes, OK? The roof, right? I want to make sure you’re safe. Then I’ll leave you alone.” Then she turns to Bri and Miriam, “Can I use the chalk you use for your menu boards?”

Miriam gestures to the front, “There’s a tub of it under the counter. Use as much as you need. We’ll get more before we need to change the menu.”

“Thank you.”

—

It’s interesting to watch as Chapman wordlessly scrawls out the pattern of an esoteric and intricate circuit around me.

In the dark, the chalk glows.

But, I’m already left to my thoughts, and the company isn’t at all distracting.

I have so much to consider. So much to review and re-examine.

If my childhood is really where I began to learn to be a person, then not only is it part of my story, so is the rest of my adolescence and adulthood.

I was never who I was back then, but I was there. It was still me.

I know of trans people who were more dissociated than I was. Who, in their transition, the shell of the person they’d been pretending to be either shattered and took huge swaths of memories with it, or turned out to be a whole other person sharing their body with them. Maybe they’d have DID for a month or so until they worked it out. I definitely know some of them did that, worked it out, made peace with their old selves and reintegrated. And, of course, there are others who didn’t, who are still two or more people sharing a body.

I idly wonder if there are any people with DID who aren’t technically trans in some way.

I wonder if Astraia is trans, not for the first time. But that’s beside the point.

That didn’t happen to me.

The shell, the act, the way that I presented myself through my egg years was so thin. I did know what I was, at least in terms of being a dragon. And I guess I just leaned on the basic trauma responses of freeze and fawn, most of the time, to get through everything. There was definitely some fleeing. And a lot of daydreaming.

I was dissociated from my body and the world around me, not from myself.

Not that that makes me better than anyone else. It’s just what happened.

I’m pretty sure, at least. I can’t think of any time where it felt like I was a different person or someone had control of my body that wasn’t me.

But it still feels right to say that I was never the person a lot of other people wanted me to be, for the longest time. And I wasn’t fully present.

And in time, I ended up running away from everyone who hurt me just by looking at me, and I found myself in this building, with these neighbors and this coffee shop.

I haven’t been naming the shop because I can’t bear to give it a fake name like I’ve been slowly giving everything and everyone else. It’s too important to me. I want the truth of it to shine as brightly as possible.

The staff and the regulars there are people, apparently, who saw me before I finally got to see myself. And I’ve already said that in so many ways, but it’s amazing how incredible that is. It’s amazing how rare.

And then here was Rhoda, maybe seeing something even more in me than that.

She literally gave me my voice.

She didn’t make it.

It wasn’t an enchantment or spell or Art.

She just found it free in the app store and then paid a little bit for the pro version, and gave it to me.

Maybe she had to look hard for it, though. Because, out of curiosity, I’ve looked at a bunch of other AAC apps that are out there, and so many of them really suck. Or, at least, they’re not suited to me and my needs. Rhoda found just the right one.

She’s also invited me regularly back to her apartment for a nightly evening of tea and conversation, despite how I’d been attacked in my own by Joel that day she gave me my voice.

And that’s the same day I met Chapman, who’s doing what sie can to take care of me now.

Chapman, whom I still goofily enamored with, when I think about it. But sie has said we have all of the time in the world to figure that out, and now I know what sie means by that, and I don’t feel so rushed to get to know hir.

We can put a pause on our friendship, or partnership, or whatever we’ll be, until I’ve worked things out with Rhoda. Which is nice, because Rhoda is clearly uncomfortable around Chapman to the extreme.

They’ve worked together. They’ve cooperated. They haven’t really even fought. But Rhoda’s drawn her line, and Chapman’s on the other side of it.

And I thought I was, too. But apparently, I’m not? Maybe I’m right on the line.

I look off toward the East, where we all last saw Säure flying.

I’d really like to see him destroyed. And everyone like him. But, honestly, I always have. Mostly, I need him, specifically, out of my hair.

Which is an interesting need, because I don’t have hair.

Eh, it’s an idiom.

What is it that Rhoda sees in me?

I’m not such a disaster that I can’t see, at this point, that she wouldn’t have given me this chance if she didn’t feel like she needed me in her life for some reason.

Maybe I already give her something without even knowing it.

Maybe it’s time for me to go and find out what that is.

Chapman’s just finishing up hir work, and when sie’s done sie comes over to me and says, “If Säure comes anywhere near this building, this will give him a huge, distracting surprise. And it should give you time to escape. Just jump off the side and hide in the alley, or run. On the ground. You know the idea. And, when you’re ready to leave, if he hasn’t shown up yet, try not to smudge it. It’ll still be useful for the night. There’s a path to the hatch, and I’m going to take it now.”

I do wonder how other cities are handling their big fucking billionaires. If any of them are also dragons. Do they have their own Artists of… what? Doing whatever it is they do to protect them?

If the Artists are in control of everything, they’ve let the billionaires exist. And if other billionaire dragons are as big as Säure, it is kind of on them, then, isn’t it?

Säure’s the only one who’s intimated that’s how it works.

“Thanks,” I say.

“You have a good night, Meg. And good luck,” Chapman says. “I need to go keep an eye on Ptarmigan. And Cerce is right. We’ve got this. It’s a complicated knot, but I happen to make knots. And Ptarmigan unravels them, in her way.”

I bow my head.

“Your family cares about you,” Chapman says. “That’s what anybody really needs.”

Kind of a weird thing to hear from one of the Artists, actually. But probably true.

And then sie leaves.

My family.

Did I ever mention I have a younger sister? Four years younger than me. And she’s doing pretty well for anyone living in this world. Raising her own family down in Seattle.

My parents visit her pretty regularly.

I haven’t been, because I didn’t have the money or the means.

But it occurs to me now that I could just fly there now. And if I’m quiet and respectful about it, I could probably avoid fights with any of the dragons down there now.

Heck. They might even have a Seattle message board or Discord server that puts mine to shame. Just pop on there and let them know when and where I’ll be, visiting family who I’m not sure even really wants to see me, and I’d probably be OK.

But that’s not the family Chapman was talking about.

I stand up and fold myself into my magical girl faerie princess outfit and start walking toward the hatch while I adjust my purse to hang crossbody.

[yourstrulyarrow]

i'm gonna get no responses to this but if anyone reads this and likes giving advice PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE

so i just finished my GCSEs, and i can't decide which school i want to do A-levels at (for non-brits: did qualifications after turning 16, U minimum grade, 4 pass grade, 9 max grade. i can't decide what school to go to for my pre-uni qualifications). doing psychology, biology, maths, and further maths.

OPTION A: my current school. i'm pretty out about being trans, and although i went around asking teachers to use different pronouns for me 2-3 years ago, most don't because they keep forgetting (i don't pass, and the picture of me on the school register they see every day is when i was 11 and very fem-presenting). i have 1 teacher that uses they/them for me (i only use he/him pronouns, they/them is ok because it's not she/her, but i don't like it much). they were okay with my name change, but my school email has my deadname's initial since you can't change an email. i haven't gotten a response yet about whether i can have a new email for sixth form (i'll update when i do). they have zero clue what a trans person even is, they "officially" think i'm non-binary (i'm not, i'm a binary trans guy) but zero teachers were informed of this hence the issue with pronouns. my head of year didn't know i'm trans, and he was awkwardly trying to not offend me by "not assuming" i'm trans. i've been there 5 years and i generally have not had a very nice time, BUT they did let me use the disabled changing room rather than forcing me to go with the girls or the guys back when PE was mandatory (in year 11 they let everyone change in the toilets/whenever during lunch, so no issues there). they're understanding and sympathetic i think, just a bit ignorant. they refused to let teachers sign my deed poll to avoid "getting between [me] and [my mum]", despite using my preferred name in all correspondence anyways (so if there was a problem they would know... ironically all correspondence misgenders me). they give year 12s/13s detentions (which i disagree with... if a sixth former is late or doesn't do their homework that is THEIR PROBLEM and they should be left to deal with the consequences. if they're not responsible enough...), don't let sixth formers attend only for lessons (i.e. 8:30am start even if you don't have lessons until 9:50am or 11:30am, can't leave if you don't have a lesson. can leave for lunch but not break, and only once you gain permission). their school counsellor found about about my mother's abuse of me, and decided to get a social worker called to my house, creating huge problems for me, and when the social worker decided the situation was "resolved", she decided to send the document with EVERYTHING I SAID ABOUT MY ABUSIVE MOTHER... *TO MY MOTHER*. it was hideous. i really really like the maths teacher here, the way he explains things is top-tier, but i'm not guaranteed to get him. i'm attached to the psychology teacher (and she's very lovely, i've had issues with splitting where i swap between "she's my mother" (positive, as in "i wish i was her kid") and "she's the worst teacher and a backstabber i hate her". but after some careful analysis i was greatly overreacting, she's amazing). i like my biology teacher (also not guaranteed to get him, he's very nice though and he likes me and is supportive of me being trans!!). they also have 1 trans teacher (i think he does maths) who could be helpful to me when i do my EPQ, as i'm definitely going to do it on some kind of transgender topic. i'd also have already-established friends, i'm okay with most of the girls with my year but a lot of the guys don't like me much (trans and i was very annoying when i was 11 and they never forgave me). the guys who are chill with me are mostly going to option c school :(

OPTION B: school near-ish me with same sort of grades as current school. they're about the same grades-wise and in terms of oxbridge offers (i want to go to cambridge). their psychology spec is the same as my gcse psychology spec, which you'd think is a net positive but oh dear lord it is so boring. i don't want to re-learn some gcse content. we had our induction day and i don't like the psychology teacher :(. also i got called out for being autistic as fuck (not diagnosed, but peer-reviewed) in our induction day session because she made us do a thing about recognising facial expressions and i got it completely wrong. it made me feel really shit and stupid because i'm not diagnosed or anything ://. i also don't really vibe with the biology teacher, the maths teacher seems chill though. this school is a LOT bigger than my current, and they have a whole separate building/cafeteria/etc. for sixth formers. good because it means i dont have to see the little kids but also there's wayyy more people, kinda scary :/. also i have 1 friend who says she'll go to either option a or b depending on where i go so we can be together (if i choose option c, she'll go to a as one of our other friends is going to a). they have really good lab facilities for the sciences though so i'm not sure?? also public transport is better to there, but distance is similar to option a. big thing for me driving me to consider this school is they have a "transition policy" for trans kids, they know what transgender means, they have a whole system, they understand having the wrong name on exams and stuff can be distressing, etc etc.

option c: amazing school, slightly far. ok so omg i REALLYREALLY want to go to c but the problem is my first mock grades weren't good enough :(( 999988876 + L2D (btec is in business). in last mock, i got 999999996 + L2D. also a distinction in english speaking. so clearly i'm academically capable enough to go there, right?? the 6 is in art, i recently got my raw mark back and it's an 8 (1 mark off a 9). my coursework for business i got 107/120, that's not amazing but i think i can maybe maybe get a L2D* in it anyways? they don't have a very casual atmosphere, it's very much study study study, but i don't mind because the school gets such amazing grades. really good maths department, but they make kids learn all of maths a-level in year12 and then all of fm a-level in y13 (if doing both), treating it as 1 combined a-level. routinely 20+ oxbridge offers every year. a few of my friends are going to option c as well, including a guy who got about the same grades as me in the first mock but lives closer so he got n offer :(. no policies on trans kids so i don't know how they are in this regard. i don't have an offer for this school, i'm on the waitlist, but ppl who got rejected were told if they email on results day with much higher outcome grades than their application, they can get in (subject to spaces left). so there's a small chance if i get all 9s and an 8 or something maybe i can go there??? i'd have to basically get on my knees and beg though.

so anyways, option a, b, or c, and why??

[cerenemuxse]

Cold Iron

December 1962

CW: Deadnaming and using incorrect pronouns (from me for the purpose of storytelling with no ill intention) + Profanity

The story can be found at @eosr-by-muxse for easier access.

Marion’s find turns out to be Glynn, the coffeepot engine who was once responsible for Thomas’ branch line. So when Thomas and Percy show him to James and Emily, James can’t help but wonder how they never found Glynn after all these years. Something’s not right, of that James was certain of.

~

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No one should've been in Knapford Sheds that morning. Everyone should've been working.

Only five of the six engines in the shed had gone to work, leaving one all alone. James was the last of the five to leave the sheds.

About an hour after he left, another engine had come by with the Fat Director in their cab. They crept towards the first berth in the second section of the shed, where Glynn was, whose crew they also had in tow. The cab was quite cramped.

Glynn was a bit of a heavy sleeper so when the engine backed down in the berth and buffered up to him, he didn't awaken. Not even when Mr. Perkins, his driver, coupled him up to the tender engine. Mr. Perkins and the fireman climbed onto Glynn and released the brakes.

And that was when he woke up.

With no effort, the engine towing him left the sheds without wheeshing so much. The Fat Director made sure that the other engines had jobs that wouldn't lead to them coming across Knapford. They were all on the other side of the island or on the only other operating branch line that led down to the docks.

Quickly, the engine was switched to the east tracks of Knapford Junction, going right on the Ffarquhar Branch Line. They trotted down the line as Glynn stayed quiet, enjoying the view of the line one last time.

His time had come.

Passing the ever-growing trees of the surrounding area, the group eventually arrived at the place. It was an abandoned siding covered in an endless number of bushes that had just flourished from the late spring climate, right between Toryreck and Eldridge. The track creaked as the tender engine shunted Glynn into the siding. Before the engine could speak, Glynn stopped them.

"Don't ever blame yourself for this, mate," he whispered. The lukewarm tone of reassurance hit the tender engine with great force as tears welled in their eyes. "My time has come. Thank you for everything."

.

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The sun was beginning to set when two tank engines, Thomas and Percy, rushed into Tidmouth Yards with something in tow. Or rather, someone.

After decades of being believed to have been scrapped, Glynn was found, though in poor condition. His once-shiny red paintwork was cracked and peeling off with huge chunks missing, and he was covered in dust and twigs from funnel to wheel. As quietly as they could, Thomas carefully shunted Glynn into a corner of the yard, unaware of a tender engine having seen the whole thing. As soon as Thomas began to speak, the tender engine rushed away to find the Fat Controller, absolutely terrified.

Once Glynn was hidden away, Thomas and Percy searched around the yard in hopes of finding any of the engines who'd been on the railway before them. Just their luck, James and Emily had pulled into the yard minutes later.

"Emily, James!" hollered the small tank engines as they scuttled towards the tender engines. So much for trying to keep a secret.

"Thomas? Percy?" replied Emily worryingly. 

"What's going on?" asked James, equally concerned.

"You'll never guess who we've found!" exclaimed Percy, bubbling with excitement.

"Guess, guess!" followed Thomas.

Both tender engines looked at one another before glancing back at the excited tank engines.

Emily hummed. "Mm, has Gator come back?"

"Nope!" piped up Percy cheerfully.

"Then who?"

"Glynn! We found Glynn!" exclaimed Thomas.

"What?" exclaimed both tender engines very loudly, bellowing huge clouds of steam.

"This isn't funny!" huffed James as his emotions buzzed about. "Glynn was scrapped decades ago!"

"That's what we believed, James!" exclaimed Thomas. "But he was alive all along! Come on, we'll show you!" And with a fweep fweeeep!, Thomas reversed down the track, unable to hold his excitement. "Come on, come on!"

Emily, who had stayed rather quiet, rushed forward, following the blue tank engine, leaving behind a disbelieved James and a confused Percy. The former watched the other two rush away.

"We're not joking around, James," piped up Percy, getting James' full attention, with a serious tone. "Marion found Glynn by accident, but they thought they'd found a talking tree so we went to check it out ourselves."

"Fine. Show me Glynn," replied James sternly and infuriated.

"Are you okay?" Percy asked without any hesitation. He was confused as he had expected James to react rather positively, not the complete opposite.

"Not now, Percy," huffed the snow-covered red tender engine before storming off to follow the others. The little green tank engine quickly scuttled after him, not having shaken off the worrisome feeling he was getting.

When both engines arrived, they found Emily sobbing as none other than Glynn comforted her.

"W-What happened to you?" cried out the Stirling Single. "You've been gone, gone! We thought you'd been scrapped!"

"My deepest apologies, Emily," comforted Glynn, who was also crying. Small tears dripped down his aged cheeks as he let out a soft, tired laugh. "I've simply been here and there on this railway ever since I was withdrawn all those years ago."

"Simply?" repeated Emily as James slowly approached the two. "Glynn, it's been nearly four decades!"

"I know. I know," Glynn replied softly as he peered over to the brightly red-painted tender engine. Even though he was tired as he had no fire running, his eyesight worked well enough. He squinted before he let out a soft chuckle. "James, lad. Is that you?"

"Yes," replied James shakily, huffing out his response. "Yes, it is."

"I see you've taken a liking for red," teased Glynn as he smiled. The wrinkles on his face became more pronounced. "Looks quite smart on you."

And for once, James didn't boast about it, or at least not immediately. He cared less at that moment because now, his old friend was home. Yet he tried to hide his cries. "It does!" he replied letting out a very loud voice crack.

The others let out light chuckles at the red medium-sized tender engine's attempt to hide his emotions. "You'll have to tell me the story about that one soon."

James' chubby cheeks burned with embarrassment. "That's a… bit of a story."

Glynn chuckled. "I'd like to hear it." He let out a yawn, joined by Percy right after. "It is late, however. You all need to get rest. We may have a chat tomorrow. That is if I haven't been found yet."

Percy and Thomas quietly winced, looking at one another, while Emily frowned at them in confusion. "You haven't told him?" she whispered hastily.

"No! Glynn's worried he'll be scrapped if the Fat Controller finds out," replied Thomas.

"He's got to know!" huffed James. "How else is Glynn supposed to stay here?"

"I'm much too old for any of the jobs you all have, James. The Fat Controller will scrap me,” replied Glynn, having accepted his fate long ago. “It’s not a matter of if he’ll scrap me. It’s a matter of when he’ll have me scrapped.

"We have to try at least!" exclaimed the red medium-sized tender engine desperately before taking off.

"James, wait!" exclaimed Thomas as James rushed off. The little tank engines glanced at one another with worry as dread filled the quiet Stirling Single.

After a bit of silence, she spoke. "Glynn, who was the one moving you around?"

"I can't say who but I can say who it wasn't," replied the old coffeepot engine. "It wasn't James, if you're worried about him."

"I wasn't," huffed Emily. "But why can't you tell us?"

"Because they could get in trouble."

…

As quickly as he had left, James was nearly approaching the Fat Controller's office when he heard the voice of the man he was looking for. It came from behind the train of vans to his right.

"Come on, then. To the Ffarquhar Branch Line, chap," whispered the Fat Controller.

Suspicion began to overtake the red tender engine's thoughts as steam wheeshed out in heavy clouds. His crew, who had lost control of James, were startled as they saw his steam pressure rise alarmingly.

"James, please-!" exclaimed Fred.

The sound of a steam engine starting was heard and within seconds, the sound began to drift away. From where he was, James could only see the steam being puffed out from the other steam engine's funnel. Not wanting to get caught after getting an idea, James stayed silent. The steam engine had gone towards the direction James had come from and switched onto the Main Line. As soon as the other engine did, James rushed to the turntable in Tidmouth Sheds, had himself turned around, and chased after them.

…

The sun had fully set by then so the path was dark. Luckily, James had the headlamp on top of his smokebox, so he could travel without his snow-covered snowplow partially blocking the light source. He was a good distance behind the unknown engine as he could barely see the red tail lamp. When they slowed down, James followed suit at the same time, hoping the other engine couldn't hear him.

It seemed to have worked as the other engine didn't say or utter anything. Soon enough, the engine arrived at the siding Glynn had been found at. Slowly and carefully, they were switched to the siding and stopped once they were fully on it.

Without realizing he was holding his steam, James slowly crept towards the engine. His lamp began to shine on the snow closest to the engine when they spoke up.

"He's no' here, sir," spoke the engine. "They've found him."

As soon as words began to slip out of the obscured engine's lips, James fumed. He knew exactly who it was.

"Edward!" he hollered furiously as he rushed forward for his lamp to shine on the engine's tender. Like a deer in headlights, the light revealed the blue tender with the number 2 in its unrecognizable colors of yellow and red. Fury bubbled within James as the words Edward had told him years ago taunted him.

"I'm sorry. I wish I ken. If I did, I wid tell ye."

"Bloody bastard!" exclaimed James as he slowly approached the blue tender engine, ignoring Fred and George’s scolding. "You're supposed to be my friend! You bloody bastard!" he continued as burning hot steam bellowed from his nostrils and the light of his lamp slowly shined across Edward, towards the latter’s front.

Edward hadn’t moved an inch or said a word the moment he was caught. The Fat Controller, however, climbed out of the cab to confront the furious red tender engine, and it seemed to be enough for the engine to crack.

James was outright sobbing. "You lied to me!" he hollered at Edward, purposely ignoring the approaching controller. "And not just me! You lied to everyone!"

There was no response.

"You even lied to Emily."

Edward mumbled something.

"Well-?"

"I'm sorry!" cried out the blue medium-sized tender engine, his voice being silenced by his snowplow. "I'm sorry, I'm sae sorry, James!"

"You're sorry?" James laughed in disbelief. "You're sorry for what? Lying?"

"I'm sorry," Edward repeated, shaking. "I should've said somethin' sooner. I should've-!"

"You very damn well should've!" James yelled back. His tone and volume made Edward tense and frightened. "I asked you about him, and you told me you didn't know! You lied!"

"I had tae!"

"Had to?" fumed the red medium-sized tender engine. "Had to? What? Was your life at stake? Were you being threatened?"

"Naw-!"

"Then what's your shit excuse?"

"That's enough! Both of you!" exclaimed the Fat Controller. "We're heading back to Tidmouth. We'll explain everything, James."

"To everyone?" he spat out. "Or are you both going to wait until the others find out?"

"James-!"

"Answer me!"

"It will be to everyone!" The Fat Controller was becoming frustrated. "I do not like this behavior-."

"Then you shouldn't have lied!"

"James-!"

"No!" he interrupted again. "You told us that he was scrapped. We expected him to be scrapped! But oops! He's actually alive! I may have lied about his livelihood but I still should be respected as if I've done nothing wrong!" cried out James, mocking the Fat Controller.

"James, please!" winced Edward, growing worried about what could happen.

"I'm not keeping my smokebox shut the same way you did!" continued James before letting out a heavy huff, wheeshing steam that was hot enough to melt the surrounding snow. "You know what! I'm not sticking around to hear your bullshit. I've had enough of it." With that, James reversed on the line as the Fat Controller called out for him and Edward remained quiet. As he did so, he spoke again. "Edward, if you're hiding something else, you better tell me or I'm not sticking around you anymore."

The engine didn't respond and James couldn't see Edward's face. However, the sudden bellows of steam was enough of an answer.

"I'm going back to my shed," he muttered, leaving the group behind.

Once James was far away, Edward cried, though still trying to hold it in. His cries were strangled as he huffed and sniffled. His crew and the Fat Controller rushed to the front of the engine. They did what they could to console the elderly engine but he continued to sob. He didn't need this consoling. If anything, he was the last engine who needed it. What about the others? What about his friends? What about them?

…

Once James and his crew arrived at Kildane Sheds, his crew scolded him severely. "What were you thinking? Using such crass language like that?" scolded Fred. "If you wanted to get yourself shut up in the shed, then you've done yourself the favor."

"I can't believe you're defending him!" exclaimed James as water in his boiler bubbled furiously.

"We are not!" shot back his driver, taking off his hat and ruffling his hair roughly. "We get that you're upset, but that wasn't the proper way to respond!"

"Ooo, you sound just like Duck!"

"James!"

"You can go now!" he sneered. "I'd prefer to be alone before the others get here."

"But you're by yourself for tonight," retorted George calmly.

"E-Exactly!" sputtered James, having slightly forgotten.

George let out a sigh as Fred simply left to go home. As his fireman climbed out of his cab once James' firebox was cleared out, he taunted lightly, "Talk about being a close friend."

That struck a tube for James. "What are you talking about?"

"I get you're upset with Edward, old chap," continued George, ignoring the sudden audible fuming from his engine as he walked toward the front. "But don't you think you might've taken it a little too far?"

"Nonsense! Close friends don't lie to each other!"

"Mm, true. But do you even know why he lied?"

"I don't need to," huffed James. "I wasn't even on this railway for a month, yet he was already lying to me."

"Right," replied his fireman, still speaking in a calm tone. By then, he was standing in front of James. "But still, don't you think you took it too far with your threat?"

James' eyebrows furrowed. His eyes fidgeted around as he tried to process what his fireman said. "...My threat?"

"Yes, your threat," scolded his fireman. "They were in the wrong, yes, but so are you. You told Edward to tell you a secret he's hiding or you're not friends with him anymore. That is a threat, James."

"I'm not going to use it against him! That's just low."

"This isn't about blackmail, James. This is about respect. You have your own secrets, don't you?"

The red medium-sized tender engine hummed in annoyance, which only revealed that he, too, was just as guilty.

"There's a reason why people, or engines in your case, keep certain things as secrets, but it's usually out of the same one."

"And what is that?"

"Fear."

"But…" Guilt began to creep within his boiler. "What was Edward so afraid of?"

"Why don't you ask him yourself?"

"Not after I yelled at him!" he exclaimed with fear written all over his face.

"I don't mean now!" reassured his fireman. "Whenever you both are ready to talk."

"Edward will never be," mumbled the red medium-sized tender engine, squeezing his eyes shut. "I yelled at him and just left him behind in the dark. I threatened him with no longer being friends. I even called him crass things."

"Then figure it out. Just know that it can’t continue to be like this."

"I know," replied James.

With that, George walked out of the shed. As he shut the doors to James' berth, he called out, "Good night, James."

"Good night, mister."

…

"...and ever since then, I've been movin' him around."

It was very late into the cold December evening at Tidmouth Yards, just outside the roundhouse. Eyes of purple, brown, and green watched the warm-brass-eyed tender engine carefully as the story came to an end. Said engine looked down, acknowledging his fault and giving his sincere apology. He didn't care if they forgave him and accepted his apology.

That hadn't gone so well with James.

And as expected, Emily spoke up first. "I can't believe it," she sniffled. "You knew this the whole time and never bothered to tell us."

"Out of all the engines," groaned Gordon. "Out of all the engines, Edward, this is beneath you."

"I can't imagine how James reacted," hummed Henry, a bit worried for the red engine.

"There's a reason why he's no' here," replied Edward, slowly looking up at the other three engines. "I wish I could've told ye three sooner. I'm sae sorry."

"Well, if you want forgiveness, you're not getting any," retorted Gordon, whose demeanor was the complete opposite of what he showed outside. If anything, he was ready to burst. "I've had quite enough for today." Slowly, Gordon backed down and headed to the roundhouse.

Henry looked solemnly at Edward. "I'm going," he bluntly said before heading off in the same direction. That left Emily and Edward.

"So how did Jimmy react?" Emily asked.

"Terribly."

"What did he say?"

"What I deservit," replied Edward as he let out a sigh. "Emily, I need tae talk tae ye and James. Privately. Withoot yer crew around."

Emily perked up. "What for?"

"I'll tell ye when we get James." His voice was shaken. "Please. I need tae talk tae ye both."

…

At Kildane Sheds, James was deep in his sleep when two engines backed into the berths next to him, Edward being the closest.

"James!" Emily exclaimed hastily as their crews dropped their fires. "Jimmy, wake up!"

The red medium-sized tender engine groaned as he woke up. With a quick shake, his eyes fluttered open and he opened his smokebox. He would've said something if seeing Edward hadn't kept his mouth shut.

"James, I need tae talk tae ye both," said Edward.

"Don't," replied James. "Forget what I said earlier. I shouldn't have threatened you like that."

"I'm no’ tellin’ ye because o’ thon, James," said Edward sternly. The tone of urgency was there, and James could sense it, much to the other two's relief. "I'm tellin’ ye this because I want tae."

Heterochromatic eyes glanced between warm brass eyes and purple eyes. Once the crews had left, he replied with hesitation, "Okay. Shoot. Whiff and Scruff are working overnight.”

Panic rose within Edward. He was really about to do this, and he couldn't go back.

"Dae either o’ ye ken an engine namit Goldilocks?" he asked.

James froze as the name rang around in his smokebox. "W-What class are they?" he asked, shaken.

"You mean that Larger Seagull from the Furness Railway?" asked Emily.

"Aye, her," replied Edward.

James' eyes frantically looked around. His old friend. One of the seven Furness Railway 21s he was friends with, that he was shedmates with.

What did Goldi have to do with Edward?

"I've always known where I've come frae and whit class I am," continued Edward. His breath was shaking. "Or ance wis."

"But what does Goldilocks have to do with that?" asked Emily, confused.

Edward let out a soft laughter, one of a broken heart. "Goldilocks wis ane o’ ma seven baby sisters," he replied. "I'm the auldest o’ yon Furness Railway 21s." He looked over at James. "I wis ance known as Alice. Dae ye remember me, Nine-Twenty?"

And everything came full force.

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It was the middle of a sunny, spring day as Lancashire and Yorkshire Railway's Number 920 traveled towards a junction with a goods train. Everything was going well that day. He arrived on time with all of his trains and he would continue to do so if he kept his current momentum consistent throughout the day. Nothing but a simple day on the line.

But when the junction came into view, something went wrong. His signal was green, so he had the right of way.

Not the loaned Furness Railway engine heading straight towards him.

The poor Class 28 cried out as he pulled on his brakes. The Larger Seagull followed suit but the weight of the passenger express coaches pushed against the Deep-Indian-red engine. Both engines drew closer and closer to one another, the same way the inevitable crash would. 

But the crash never happened.

Just their luck, the signalman maneuvered quick enough to change the points, diverting both to opposite lines. 920 was sent to a siding while the Larger Seagull was switched to another track, continuing her trip.

As the day went on, 920 was never explained the cause so he assumed that the Larger Seagull was at fault. "Alice is truly her class' namesake!" he vented to his older sister, 743. He had just learned the Larger Seagull's name. Unbeknownst to him, Alice’s eyesight was not to blame. Her signal had been broken and the message alerting her hadn’t been sent in time. Said engine had been distressed for the rest of her stay as soon as word got out of the incident. Her reputation had only worsened, and so did her hostile behavior.

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.

"It was you," whispered James. "You're that Larger Seagull that came over to the L n' YR."

"And the one who came over to help build the North Western," continued Emily. She observed her close friend. "What happened?"

Edward looked down, squeezing his eyes shut. It was enough for James and Emily to not push any further. "No’ taeday. I'm sorry."

"Don't be," reassured Emily. "You can tell us when you're ready."

"Thank ye. Both o’ ye," he whispered. "Please, dinnae tell anyone. Naw ane else can ken."

"Have you told someone else?" asked James.

“Aye. I’ve told Thomas but that wis… ten years ago. Be- The Fat Controller, I mean!" he quickly corrected himself. The slight burn of his cheeks didn’t go unnoticed by either engine. After all these years, the elderly blue engine still saw the Fat Controller as a close friend, not just as his owner. "Then there’s Glynn and a few others."

Emily couldn’t shake the question away. “Why haven’t you said anything?”

“It’s because o’ Sir Louis.”

“The Other Fat Controller?”

“Aye. Sir Louis threatenit tae scrap me and the other original North Westerners if anyane caught wind o’ whit happenit. I knen he’s long gone but I jist- Jist dinnae tell anyane else. If British Railways finds oot, it's over and we can all kiss thon partial independence guidbye.”

“And what about Glynn?” asked James.

“It had everythin’ tae dae wit’ money,” Edward replied. “Glynn broke down but the railway could’nae afford the repairs sae he wis withdrawn until they could. We’ve kept it a secret since then because we didnae wantit to bring yer hopes up. Glynn’s repairs never happenit, sae the board wanit him tae be scrappit. However, the Fat Controller wis determinit tae keep him sae he liet tae the board. James, when ye were bought around the time Glynn broke down, the railway wis already at a terrible financial point. Why dae ye think we were being rushit oan our wheels around thon time?”

“So it was because of me?”

“Naw, naw!” reassured Edward, recalling James’ now-long-gone fear. “It wis because o’ the Nineteen-Twenty Locomotive Loans when yer sister and Goldilocks came over wit’ those other Mainlanders. Those loans made everythin’ worse. Honestly, I dinnae ken whit Sir Louis wis thinkin’ around thon time.” He looked over at Emily. “He bought ye, Emily, in nineteen-nineteen, yet ye didnae enter service until nineteen-twenty-ane. Then he bought Henry in nineteen-twenty-two but we… all ken how thon went. Instead o’ cooperatin’ wit’ the police, he kept those engines for the first year the Amalgamation took effect until he got Gordon in March of thon year. After nineteen-twenty-three, he let thaim go. He didnae keep any o’ thaim like we thought he would.”

“Jasmine wasn’t kidding when she said it was bad.”

“It was terrible,” piped up Emily. “Sir Louis was… some man.”

“You’re being a little too nice about him,” James noted, only for Emily and Edward to laugh. “What? It’s true! You both know that.”

“Only ye would think thon,” teased the blue medium-sized tender engine.

James huffed playfully until his expression fell slightly. With a heavy sigh, he looked over at Edward. “Edward, I… I’m sorry for the way I reacted earlier.”

“Dinnae worry aboot it-”

“No, listen. I don’t know how you didn’t break then and there, but I’m sorry. It didn’t matter what you did. I still shouldn’t have reacted like that. I’m surprised you wanted to talk to me that soon.”

Edward mentally hissed but he kept quiet. James didn’t need to feel any more guilty for making him upset. It wasn’t important, but Emily thought otherwise. “He did break apart,” she bluntly said.

“Emily-!” whispered Edward hastily.

“No, hush! You can’t keep hiding this kind of thing over and over again, Edward.”

“It’s no’ important-!” he said hastily, avoiding the look James was giving him by looking straight forward into the snowy evening.

“Important, my firebox!” she scolded with good intention. “You came into the yards shaking with black stains on your face and snowplow before you broke down again.”

“I-!”

CRUNCH-SCREECH!

The sound would’ve been terrifying if neither engine had been aware of what happened.

The red medium-sized tender engine had shifted his weight on his chassis, which allowed him to lean onto Edward. The horrible sound of metal being crushed and scratched had been James’s handrails scratching against the blue medium-sized tender engine’s boiler. By then, their boilers had cooled down, thanks to the cold December weather. The feeling, however, was anything but cold iron. Edward was stunned as tears welled in his eyes, only for Emily to follow James right after.

“We’re still friends, right?” muttered James.

“O’ course, we ur,” replied Edward, letting out soft cries and his tears. The other two engines let their watery eyes cry at the same time. The cold air wasn’t enough to beat the tears as stains of coal dust mixed with the water were left behind on their faces.

…

The following morning, the three engines were awakened with exciting news: Glynn would be restored and preserved at Ulfstead Castle, alongside Stephen and Millie. Sir Topham Hatt II had been more than happy to allow his engines to visit the coffeepot engine as soon as Glynn began work at the estate. While the North Westerners were joyfully celebrating Glynn’s arrival to the Earl’s estate, another engine wasn’t too keen.

~

[itsgivingfaggot]

Thinking about the time I went to this group therapy thing for a diagnosis I had gotten a couple months prior. But It started half a year before i got my name (& gender marker) legally changed. So I had to give the organization my deadname when signing up. This wasnt too much of a big deal, they used my actual name in therapy, my pronouns, didnt out me in the group or anything, things were fine.

Now after nearly completing the whole year of group therapy I overhead one of the women running it talking about a seperate group that sounded perfect for me, that they didn't seem to advertise in their flyers etc so I never had heard about it. So I decided to approach her after one of the last sessions and ask her about it. She seemed excited about me joining it but told me she would need to do a pre interview first. We set an appointment for maybe 2 weeks later.

Now, in the most vague terms, this was a group For Very Traumatized people. I show up to the sort of "interview" a little nervous, expecting questions abt my biography, effects of trauma I'm dealing with, how I'm coping with them, blabla. She basically opens up with "so I asked the other group members about a Man joining them, and when one of them expressed that she wouldn't be comfortable with it, I explained your situation to her!" With a big smile on her face. My "situation". She outed me to this random group of people I had never even met before. This group was not once meant to be a womens space. She simply should've given everyone the option to decide if they were comfortable with this. That's all. Not fucking outing me. For the woman who wasnt comfortable with me as a cis man? Sucks for her. But that doesnt mean this worker gets to potentially endanger me for that womans comfort. But of course she did.

So that's over. Can we finally get to the interview? Of course. However she opens up with "oh you know, I've just been super interested in how things were for you growing up. If you could tell me about that." I go "with the. Abuse?" She doesnt react. "....The autism?" "Oh, no no! The trans thing!"... I sit there a little confused. I give a short one or two sentence answer thinking we will move on to the actual topic of this group. But no. She keeps digging. What about your family? Did you have ~the surgery~ yet? How was school? What about your partners? What about your extended family? What about-

And i was unable to tell her to stop. I answered everything as vaguely as possible. But as a trans person you're always seen as fucking representative of every other trans person. You're not an individual you're either a walking advertisement for corruption or a fascinating oddity of a mystical group to disect and test and observe. If I had told her it's none of her business what's in my pants, it's not actually important to this group how my uncles reacted to me coming out? No I dont want to tell you in great detail the effects of testosterone on my body? Etc. Maybe she'd make a mental note of "trannies = rude and combative. Secretive. Dont want their ~allies~ to be educated about their experiences (why?!)" and I dont wanna be responsible for that in a setting where that person holds so much influence over someone's access to mental health care. So I mumbled my way through it.

In the end the "interview" for a fucking trauma group was 30 minutes of me being increasingly uncomfortable by being prodded over being trans, and roughly 5 minutes of her telling me about some rules in the group and asking a single question about how to best handle me when past trauma gets triggered. I ended up not joining anyways for mostly (!) unrelated reasons. But like. What the fuck was that. I dont understand how some cis people who are interested in trans experiences wont just like. Watch a fucking documentary. Read a book. Theres people who make it their lives mission to share their experiences. That Does Not Mean every random trans person you meet will wanna do the same.

Also again dont fucking out people without their consent. I cant believe we still have to say this oh my god

[andiv3r]

So. I need to make a whole post about lots of things but I've decided that dermatillomania is one of them. Cw for blood and lots of skin-picking stuff below.

Story time. I remember in eighth grade, my religion teacher pulled me out into the halls to talk to me, and my first thought was, "Oh shit, another one," because the previous religion teacher had put me through hell and back for being queer (which was information I had not even shared with her). I braced to have an awkward conversation about my love life and gender identity for the second time in two years. Instead, she pointed at my arm.

"What's that?" She asked. I glanced down at my arms, covered in scabs, red and radiating heat from where I'd been picking for hours. "Your skin, I mean. Why is it... like that?"

Oh. Right. She was new. She didn't know.

"Genetic skin condition." I replied. "It's not really that bad on its own, but I pick at it whenever I'm nervous or upset or sad or bored or... just kind of whenever." She opened her mouth and I interrupted before she could say it. "I've tried to stop, and I've tried wearing long sleeves, and I've tried medicine, and I keep my nails short, but it doesn't help, so... yeah. Don't worry about it. It's not contagious or anything, it's genetic."

Her face scrunched into a frown, but she didn't say anything else and told me to return to my English class. I did.

Later that day, I had to go to Science class. The worst of them, at least in terms of places I picked at my arms. The teacher was nice enough, but I fucking hated science as a class. So, while everyone else was taking notes, I ran my hand along my arms. They were warm. Wet in some places, from the blood that had pooled around some bumps. But most of all, they were so... bumpy. So easy to just... pinch. Squeeze. Scratch.

I walked out of Science class that day with my left arm covered in bloody spots. Shit. My mom was gonna kill me.

No.

Don't think about her.

Don't do it, or else you'll get nervous, and when you get nervous you-

Too late. The fingers that had been rhythmically tapping my desk in Pre-Algebra were now tracing my jawline, searching for...

Ah. There.

Pinch. Squeeze. Scratch. Move my fingers up a bit to my cheek. Pinch. Squeeze. Scratch. Move. Pinch. Squeeze. Scratch. Move. Pinch. Squeeze. Scratch. Move, pinch, squeeze, scratch, move, pinch, squeeze, sc-

"[deadname], your face is bleeding!" I jerked my hands away from my face and stared down at my fingers, their tips stained crimson. So it was.

"Ah. Yeah. D'you have a kleenex?" I replied to the alarmed blond beside me.

"Uh... yeah." He passed one over with a frown. He knew about my skin-picking, so I'm not sure why he was so surprised. Maybe it was the blood. I licked my fingers, wetting them so that the blood would come off. It didn't.

The bell rang.

I swung my backpack onto my back and felt the fabric rub against my raw and open skin.

Well that fucking hurts, but I did it to myself, so I ignored it. I could've just stopped picking, as my mother so often reminded me. I should've just stopped.

I mean, it's not like I had some mental condition I didn't know about that was fueling this, right?

When my mom picked me up from after hours that day, both of my arms were red, both from blood and inflammation. Scabs littered every place in my skin that I could reach. The first thing she did was pull up my sleeve and her frown turned into a scowl.

"Really, [deadname]? Seriously? After all I told you about how that's horrible for your skin? Do you want to be so ugly no boy will want to date you?"

That did sound pleasant, actually, but I didn't need to tell her that. Besides, that wasn't why I was doing it. To be honest, there wasn't really a why. I didn't even realize I was doing it, usually, until I had. I zoned out as she ranted about how I'd never be able to wear a swimsuit, I would have permanent scars, and as I did, my left hand trailed up my arm, grazing the warm, itchy, painful bumps.

Pinch. Squeeze. Scratch.

[rainydaydally]

Here in this labyrinth (I’m trapped) Chapter 2

WARNINGS: Transphobia Being outed Homophobia Dysphoria Misgendering Deadnaming Stress Cussing Crying Arguing Fighting

3:57, Kyle arrives home from school. He slumps up the stairs, and enters his room. He drops his backpack onto the floor by his bed and climbs into his bed. He reaches for his phone on his nightstand, and starts to scroll on instagram.

3:57, Cartman is at home, scrolling through the photos he took of Kyle’s diary, now being able to read the words thoroughly without being caught. Eventually, Cartman thinks of a plan. “I will send it to Bebe and Clyde, so when they talk about it at school (because they cant keep their mouths shut) they will be overheard by others, and it will spread and spread to the point it can’t be connected back to me.” He thinks to himself.

3:58, Kyle decides to text Stan a question he’s been wondering a while. “Hey, where did you (and kenny) even find my diary?”

3:58, Stan looks up from the video game he was playing and looks at the text on his phone. “Sh*t.” Stan whispers, turning off his video game. He screenshots the text and sends it to Kenny. “What the f*ck do I say?”

3:59, Cartman comes up with an even better idea to spread the truth about Kyle.

3:59, Kenny checks his about ten years old andriod, and it reads a text from Stan. Kenny quickly texts back. “Just say we found it on the floor in the hall… unless you want to tell him that CARTMAN read his diary.”

4:00, Stan responds to Kenny’s text. “I’m obviously not going with the second option.” Stan texts Kyle back, “We just found it on the floor, and your name was on the cover so we went to return it.”

4:00, Kyle reads the text and sighs. “Well, atleast Cartman didn’t read it.”

Stan stares at the text for a while, guilt building up inside of him. “Haha, yea.” Is all he responds with, going into the kitchen to leave his phone on the counter before returning back to the living room.

Kyle sighs, putting his playlist on shuffle and pulling a book out of his backpack to read. 

Kenny reads a magazine on his bed with Karen next to him, humming a song to drown out his parents arguing for the both of them.

Cartman can’t help but laugh, feeling on top of the world, printing many copies of the pictures he took earlier. “She will never see what’s coming for her.” He smiles.

And that was the last Friday that Kyle felt human.

_______________

Sunday night, Cartman snuck into school and taped pictures of Kyle’s diary all over the walls and on the doors of Kyle’s, Kenny’s, and Stan’s lockers. He knew he would get caught eventually, but he keeps his mindset as “as long as people found out Kyle is a girl, and I ruin his life, then I don’t care how much trouble I get into.” He finishes his horrible deed and leaves the school, a smile on his face.

Monday morning, Kyle wakes up as usual, gets ready for school like a regular Monday, and heads to the bus stop. “Hey guys, where’s Cartman?” Kyle questions, noticing the boy not there. “I think hes already at school.” Stan replied, Kenny nodding next to him. “What- why? Doesn’t he hate school?” He asks. Stan just shrugged, and eventually the bus came to take the three boys to school.

The second Stan, Kenny, and most importantly Kyle, came through the door, everyone’s heads turned to look at them. Kyle felt his hands start to sweat as he heard the whispers from the students as him and his friends walked by. “What the h*ll is up today?” Kenny whispers. Stan sighs before replying with, “Right? What dumb*ss rumor was spread around this time?” Kyle couldn’t help but feel like this wasn’t all three of them, that it was just him everyone was gossiping about. Suddenly Wendy walks up to Kyle. “I’m so sorry about this whole thing. Cartman is an assh*le, if you need to talk I’m here.” She says, hugging Kyle, and then walking away. “What the f*ck was that?” Kenny asks. Kyle just shrugs dumbfounded. “Cartman did something again.” He sighs. “Like always.” Kenny giggles.

Kyle, Stan, and Kenny arrive at their lockers, and see the print outs of Kyle’s diary on their locker doors. Stan and Kenny’s lockers are next to eachother, and they grab the paper off the lockers and slowly look at eachother, reading small parts of the papers. “Oh sh*t.” Stan says.

Stan and Kenny run to Kyle, and see him staring at the paper with a completely miserable look on his face. “Kyle…?” Stan says softly. Kyle throws his backpack into his locker before slamming it, and turning to look at Stan and Kenny. “You guys told me Cartman didn’t see it!” “Well, We didn’t know he’d take pictures of it.” Stan shrugs. “You knew he read it and didn’t even say anything?!” Kyle seethes. “Both of you? I thought you both knew better.” Kyle throws the paper on the ground, stomps on it, and storms down the hallway, searching for Cartman.

Finally, Kyle sees the boy in the bathroom washing his hands. “Cartman!” Kyle screams. Cartman jumps and turns to Kyle. “I know it was you.” Kyle says, slowly walking towards Cartman. “What?” He says, not hiding it very well. “I know you f*cking outed me to the whole school. You think that you could do this and not even have it cross my mind at all that it could’ve been you?! You really are stupid.” Kyle’s words spill out, anger rising just looking at Cartman. “You outed me. You outed me to the whole school.” Kyle says, tears pricking his eyes. “Aw, don’t cry, Kylie-” Cartman says before getting interrupted. Kyle grabs Cartman’s shirt. “DO NOT call me that, you assh*le! What is wrong with you?!” Kyle yells, letting Cartman’s shirt go before leaving the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

Kyle runs down the halls, “I can’t believe everyone betrayed me like this.” He thinks over and over again and he runs to his locker to get his phone. He sees the stares of everyone, class still hasn’t started yet. He grabs his phone out his bag, slams his locker, and runs to a corner where no one goes. “C’mon mom… please pick up!” He thinks. Finally the ringing stops and he hears his mom’s voice on the other line. “Kyle? Aren’t you at school? Is something wrong?” She asks. “Y-yeah there is, actually. Something really, really bad happened and I need you to pick me up.” Kyle says shakily, between sobs. “Okay, Kyle. I’ll be there in an hour, is that okay?” “Yeah, it’s okay.” He says. “Okay. Love you, bubbie.” She says, hanging up the phone. 

Kyle heads to his first class, which he (thankfully) doesn’t have Cartman in. He doesn’t even have Stan or Kenny in it, which, for the first time, he is kind of relieved about. He can’t focus in class, completely embarrassed about all the secrets that have been revealed, him being trans and his big and quite unexplainable crush on Stan being the main two.

Part 1

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

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