#i was a social outcast for most of elementary and middle school and was bullied heavily

[the-overthinktank]

I feel like part of autistic infighting is that the term encompasses such a huge range of disability, symptoms, and experiences that advocacy often struggles to be inclusive without becoming so unspecific it's toothless. On one hand high vs low functioning is a false dichotomy, on the other hand someone who was has severe difficulty communicating and motor disabilities has obviously had very different experiences from someone who found out later in life and can mask

[donanimee]

A Silent Voice its an anime movie based on a manga of the same name that, while many might look it like a romance movie, its mostly about redemption, overcoming trauma and social anxiety, facing and living with your past, and the true meaning of friendship.

I was impressed with how they handled the trauma and agnst parts to the point that they are relatable and make the characters feel human and realistic especially from the trauma victim's point, like how Shoya looked at everyone with an X on their faces. And i found the sign language interesting, even if its the japanese sign language.

The hardest parts for me to watch were the bullying scenes, who am i kidding no one likes to see a child go through that, even in movies. And some kids can be that cruel in real life too, and i know because i have an aunt and uncle who were teachers and were relieved when they retired since let me tell you their students were the hardest to handle, one even stabed my aunt in the hand with a pencil.

And it also bothers me that the teacher didnt even did something to stop the bullying almost as if he didnt notice or wasnt part of his job, it even reminded me of the middle school teacher of Izuku Midoriya from MHA, only that there it was a bit worse.

The thing that hooked me in my mind the most was the friendship part of the film. Especially the former friendship between Shoya Ishida, Kazuki Shimada, and Keisuke Hirose. These three were the balanced trio: the Daredevil, The Carefree guy, and the Comic Relief. And were the main bullies of Shoko Nishimiya. But then things took a twist when Shoko's bullying was brought up by the teacher and the people who Ishida thought of as his best friends put the blame on him in order to save themselves from punishment due to apathy, cowardice and fear, and acted as if they were never his friends to the point that they even bullied him and turned him into a complete outcast and loner, with Kazuki being his main bully, in fact he makes the most appearances than Hirose. This character hooked me the most, who knew a star student and carefree guy could turn out to be so cold, cruel and blind to his faults, like in his mind he didnt do anything wrong. Talk about trials and bad situations showing someone's true colors. From my pov, the bullying he and Hirose put Ishida through was even worse than the one Shoko went through. And even in Middle School he still made his life difficult by telling everyone of his bullying and left him with absolutely no friends at all, making him drown even more in his trauma, loneliness, and guilt over his past actions and their consequences.

It also made him wonder what friendship even was because he didnt know what that was anymore after he lost all hope of reconnecting with his old friends. He explained that he only understood them because they always did what he thought they would and wanted them to do, but after that and his changed thoughts and feelings he doenst even understand them anymore, especially after learning from Naoka that they rescued him from the river but only because it was the right thing to do rather than wanting to make up with him, especially because they didnt seem to change after that and even told Naoka to not tell Ishida and mind her own business.

Naoka is what many would say "the love rival" in this film due to her one sided love for Ishida and jealousy towards Shoko and seeing her as a threat to her feelings for him, even putting the blame of what happened to him on her and that if she had never rattled them out or even went to their school Ishida wouldnt have gone through that hell and lost his friends. They called it one sided because of her feelings towards him but without considering his feelings and choices and doing stuff more out of her own benefit and self guilt for what she did in Elementary school. Especially her desire for things to being back to what they were before, mostly Ishida's old friendships due to her (failed) attempts to try to make them meet up and reconciliate.

Honestly i admire her hope for those three making amends, but just like Ishida learned to face and be at peace with his past, she needs to learn and accept that things will never be like they were before and that some relationships cant easily or never be mended by "locking two people in a room". She cant rush or force those three to be friends again by setting encounters between them, this is a step they need to take on their own choice and will, and if they are even willing to make amends and are willing to change or not, just like she "forced" herself to change and made a peace truce with Shoko. And also follow the "advice" Shimada gave her to "mind her own business" because in a way their issues and broken relationship aren't something she should meddle with even if she only wants help, and he told her the same when he told her to keep quiet about them saving Ishida from the river so neither she got her (false) hopes too high or Ishida getting the wrong idea. Some people and things just never change.

While the films ends in the Cultural Festival and doesnt include the film arc, the manga shows what happened after that and ends in chapter 62 at the time for the Coming of Age Ceremony which its like a school reunion convention, and ends just as Ishida and Nishimiya open the door to their elementary school reunion ready to face their painful past , which may includ etheir old classmates and possibly teachers, together as equals. We dont know how that might had turned out, fans can only imagine what could had happened, the most probable, if the classmates had matured or moved on/ forgotten the past or not, that everyone could have stared at them for a moment in a bit of shock before minding their own business with their friends and family and maybe get a few stares or whispers or just being ignored. We dont know if he encountered or interacted with Kazuki( if he managed to come from studying in France and Ishida even asked for his email t see if he would come so he could talk to him) or Hirose, whom we saw a glimpse of him entering the room with his wife and child and whom we dont know much about due to his few appearances in the story (honestly i think he has more chances of having matured and changed than Kazuki and who knows if the river accident did affected him somehow) or if they are even worthy of his forgiveness, but even if he manages to confront, talk, and make peace with them or not its ok, because he gained even much more true friends than the ones he lost and wont have to worry of confronting his past and the challenges ahead by himself and living a lonely life ever again. And after a long timw since elementary school, he finally found peace, happiness, and love.

[squaredcirclecafe]

I feel as though, for my entire life, almost every man in my life has been toxic. It goes back to when I was a child. A father is meant to show you how to be a man, but mine wasn’t a real man. He was an abuser.

My father abused me in every way, making me feel as though no man would ever love someone as screwed up as I was. His abuse was drilled into my mind, making me an outcast at school, giving the boys ammunition to use to bully me in elementary and middle school. Once high school started, I truly felt no guy would ever give me the time of day. And I was right. 

They say bullying is a child’s worst nightmare, but they never tell you feeling ignored is just as bad. 

And any man who did show me any affection, it was only because they were using me. They would hide me and take advantage of me, never acknowledging me in public. I never had a boyfriend. I wasn’t allowed to, since my father had me under his control.

As I became an adult, I allowed myself to fall into relationships in which my partner was distant or trying to control me in one way or another. I wasn’t ever happy. Any man who showed me the slightest affection and I was already in love, or in something I thought was love.

My first marriage was with someone who was just looking for a home. I later learned this is called “cuffing.” He soon changed as we lived together, with him trying to convince me I needed to work less so he could collect a larger SSI check. I disagreed. He also said I couldn’t have guys as friends, and, again, I disagreed. The marriage ended by the end of the year.

My next long term relationship was with a man who was charming and thoughtful. He said the right things and made all the right moves. Slowly, though, he started saying and doing things I soon learned was called “gaslighting.” I joined a gym and though I was happy, he told me I could work out at home for free, so I quit. I bought yoga equipment, but he suggested I didn’t need that many things. I tried becoming a pro wrestler, but he put it in my head that if I was injured, who would take care of me? Certainly not him. So, I quit that. The last straw came when he called out how often I went to wrestling shows (not very often), something I loved a lot. I ended the relationship, but the damage was done.

I did date a man after him and it seemed as though he was a good guy. But, it was short term. A few months into the relationship, he disappeared. This is now called “ghosting.” I found out through his social media he moved to CA, without any goodbye. 

My second marriage, to me, finally felt as though it was going to work. He was sweet, funny, caring, and respected my wishes. We had a fun wedding, but soon, it became clear he wasn’t the man he said he was. He told me he used to work a lot, but never made the effort to find a job. He said he always kept a clean apartment, but would never do anything as far as housework unless I pointed it out. He said he could cook, but his “meals” were nothing more than weird concoctions he threw together. He convinced me to move to MA with him, but I didn’t want to, having built a life for me in RI. I lost my apartment and we were homeless for three years. Again, he barely looked for work, while I used most of my pay for either transportation to work, the hotel, or food. Though, he would do things for me to “cheer me up” such as renting a movie theater for my favorite movie or buying me a Chromebook. Once we finally found a home, thanks to my veteran status, he slipped back into his ways, with no cleaning or searching for a job. He was more focused on trying to become the next YouTube icon. But, he would always make sure he bought me gifts and told me he loved me. 

I soon discovered he was “love bombing” me, keeping me distracted while he was doing illegal activity behind my back. This soon came to light as he was recently arrested for illegal activities. I can’t even bring myself to say what it is because it disgusts me. As of this writing, I am seeking legal advice to file for divorce.

As I write this, I feel such strong emotions, more towards myself, allowing myself to fall into these toxic relationships. I was so desperate for any kind of affections, I gave permission to these guys to walk all over me and take advantage of my emotions. And, I have no one to blame for my decisions. I did it and paid the price.

I’m going to be 50 in a couple of years and I am finally starting to feel as though my life is just beginning. I do have two wonderful kids who I raised on my own. Both are in amazing relationships with people who care for them, love them for who they are and not what they can get from them. They are also confident in their feelings to know if something isn’t right, they need to walk away. It’s about time I started doing that myself. I have spent so much time trying to please a partner, I never found the time to focus on myself and my own growth. So that’s my next chapter in the book that is my life. Who knows what will happen in the next 50 years, but I know I’ll begin to love the one person who needs love the most: ME.

[somemydayy]

Relationship! w/ Amnesia Characters

Heroine— heroine, shin, toma, and you were all childhood friends. ever since then you had a infinity for knowing whenever heroine was in trouble, and even decided to be her knight in shining armor. one time when heroine forget her lunch, you and the guys came to deliver it to her, you witnessed some jerk bullying her. toma wanted to resolve it by talking it out, shin thought interfering was pointless since heroine needed to stick up for himself, but you? you ultimately got suspended for punching the guy in the face, leaving the poor bastard with a black eye, and some loose teeth. it was totally worth it, cause soon after many others came forward on bullying related insistences and “toothless” was expelled later that week. many other of the students told you heroine advocated for your wrongful suspension and even collected signatures to correct the wrong you faced. and have the real threat face justice. you returned to school that same week, and when you came back you were greeted with heartfelt reunion, of your friends but most importantly, you were welcomed with a warm embrace, tender kiss on the cheek, as well as a promise from heroine to marry you when you both got older. and once both of you graduated from college you both fulfilled that promise once and for all.

Shin— both of you were classmates and neighbors since elementary, and although shin became a social outcast on account of his father’s past, you found no fault in him. you were always professing your love for the boy. but he would always end up rejecting you. you became so love sick, you thought it better to study abroad. and since the last year of middle school and all throughout high school, you didn’t have any contact with him. and honestly it irked him to no end, why did heroine and toma receive letters, and post cards every birthday, and holiday, but not him? he found himself standing outside your family home, one Christmas waiting for you in freezing weather, but it was all worth it when he saw your face. “next time send me a postcard. I missed you, too. idiot!”

Ikki— dark hair that reached your back and crimson stained lips and that perfect sun-kissed glow your skin held, you were beautiful. everyone thought so. and ikki wasn’t one to shy away from a beautiful woman. he had been flirting with you for a long time, but never made a move. its been rather annoying lately, so you told him if he could defeat you at a game of darts you’ll go out with him. ultimately he agrees but best known to him, one of your favorite hobbies was playing darts. and you weren’t just really good at it, you placed top ten in national championships but Ikki didn’t have to know that. not yet that is.

Kent— he was never one to pick apart someone’s appearance intentionally that is, and especially not yours. but lately he couldn’t help but analyze your odd behavior. so when he happened to invite you out to lunch he couldn’t decipher that expression placed upon your face nor the illogical behavior you currently held towards much of anything really. “your only eating your greens. are you on a diet?” no reaction, just a sigh escaped you. “just so you know most diets, regardless of their particular nature, result in short-term weight loss are not sustainable.” again no reaction other then you pushing your food back and forth with your utensils. “the weight you shed short term almost always comes back, you know. 95% of people experience that yo-yo effect, plus the deprivation of restrictive diets may lead to a overeating, or binging.” he didn’t know why but something within you snapped and you flushed out your anger at the said man. “well actually it would take several minutes without oxygen to affect a person’s psychological organism.” kent then went on a unannounced lecture about the human anatomy, and the properties of oxygen. the discussion was never ending so you resolved to shut the said man up regardless of method. but a simple kiss would suffice, for now at least.

Toma— he’s always been a little overprotective when it came to you. since you were kids, shin claimed he coddled you way too much. but how could he not? you’re just so important to him. waiting in-front of your house, walking you to and from school, caring your backpack, hanging out at each other’s houses, binge watching movies, eating snacks and shopping together; these were his habits, that crossed over into your adulthood’s. you never questioned it, since you grew up with toma and had a great relationship with each other. but your boyfriend didn’t share the same sentiments. he would always get angry and fuss about how “he totally has a thing for you, can’t you see it?!” claiming how toma’s behavior was inappropriate and strange. you reassured him nothing was going on, but your boyfriend’s behavior continued to grow eccentric. he accused you of harboring feelings toward other men. the worst thing was that he forbid you from seeing toma and shin. and when you didn’t, toma noticed you would have bruises or scrapped skin. whenever he brought it up, you would change the subject or just tell him to drop it. toma’s worst fear came true, you falling for the wrong guy, you being mistreated, manipulated and physically harmed. but this became the undeniable reality, you were in a toxic relationship, and toma did what he always did, he decided to keep you safe no matter the cost. he would never let anyone hurt you ever, not again. even if it meant dealing with the problem in unethical ways. he would do it, if it meant keeping you safe.

Ukyo— one day as you were running late to work when suddenly you just spotted this handsome man sitting by himself near the back of the cafe. with a empty cup of coffee. you always made it a habit to greet him, and refill his coffee mug every time you saw him. this continued on for some time, and although it was a short interaction, it was one you always looked forward to these days. “hello, master. I hope your in good health, today.” the man chuckled with a teasing undertone. “I’m fine, thank you. but can I ask why, you won’t call me by my name?” “im sorry but its company policy. this is a maid cafe after all.” his cheeks flushed a bright crimson and he avoided looking into your eyes afterwards. “oh, yes. your absolutely correct. it’s my mistake.” “but if you want you can call me (y/n), master.” a soft smile spread across his lips at this. it was the first time you saw his smile and instantly you knew you wanted to see more of it. and ukyo had the same thoughts, but they were slightly more sinister. yes, darling. smile. just for me. solely for me. he thought to himself.

© Somemydayy 2022 | Please do not copy or alter this writing on Tumblr or any other platform.

[ichayalovesyou]

Star Trek is A Life Raft

Lately, I’ve been thinking about the nature of my hyperfixation with Star Trek the way I tend to do with most of the things I feel like I might be obsessing over “too much” because my self hypercriticality never sleeps even if my body does.

I’m always afraid, however rightly or wrongly, that I will develop an unhealthy relationship with a piece of media that’ll somehow consume my life and alienate me from my peers. Even though it never actively sabotaged my life, nor alienated me from anyone I felt was worth keeping in it.

Still, I keep asking myself “Why can’t I let this one go? Why won’t it let me go? Why can I not talk about it, even when it’s not immediately relevant? Even around strangers who have no clue what I’m talking about? Why is it always in the back of my mind even when I’m hyper focused on other things?” even though I know part of that is me being neurodivergent, I know a lot of it just… isn’t.

I don’t associate Star Trek with the feelings I associate with my normal hyperfixations, I wouldn’t even call it a special interest, my love for it is derived from the same place my creative passions come from. The same place where my desire to create gives me, not to be dramatic, but my will to live comes from. That everpresent spiritual need to write and to analyze and to draw and to sing and to make videos comes from the same emotions I associate with this fictional universe.

I was writing fanfiction (poorly disguised as original material) for this universe before I even knew what fanfiction was (let alone accepting the fact that it was okay to write and to love it). I have an incredibly distinct memory of the summer between elementary and middle school, right as my best friend and I were getting a little “too old” to play pretend. We were basically role playing TNG in his backyard, or more like, I was being a bit of a control freak and infodumping and drawing about it. I realized he wasn’t having fun, so we stopped, and I told him how important Star Trek was to me and how I wanted to make something just like it. It was then, at the ripe age of 12, that I realized I desperately wanted to be a writer. It is a dream I have not let go of since, that has Star Trek inherently baked into its core.

Looking back on it, there is no part of my life that hasn’t been touched by Star Trek in some way. I literally don’t have memories of that show not being at least in my peripheral. (Time to get VERY EMOTIONAL under the cut!!)

I could hear my parents watching Voyager after I was sent to bed when I was really little. Janeway and Chakotay’s voices are almost as familiar to me as my parents’ voices. No matter how long the bouts between me trying to finally finish the series are 😅

I first watched Star Trek myself (instead of it just being on in the distance while I was in bed) when I was about 5 or 6 years old. The first episode I watched was Yesteryear, I watched Spock get bullied and feel like an outcast who just wasn’t normal, and imprinted on him like a duckling long, looooong before I watched TOS.

I got introduced to TNG right as my parents separated and my mom got together with a more… unpleasant, partner. I would stay up late or hide in my closet watching TNG through the Netflix app on my iPod to drown out their disagreements and to stave off my nightmares. I would pretend and theorize that maybe I was an Android like Data when I couldn’t figure out social situations in elementary school. I even auditioned for my high school’s drama class using Picard’s closing defense of Data from “A Measure of A Man”. I couldn’t think of anything else more powerful than that that I could possibly deliver, even if we were technically told to do one from a play. I took the L of getting a couple points taken off for that because it was inherently, extremely important to my 15 year old self to say those words out loud on stage to my peers even if I couldn’t articulate why. As if, through emulating Picard defending Data, I was advocating for my own personhood.

I watched most of DS9 (and a bit of Voyager) with my earbuds in to tune out the overstimulation I didn’t know I was experiencing through middle and highschool. Like the rest of my life, I was using Star Trek as a life raft to cope with a world that would not accept or accomadate me as I was. The inherent (if accidental) transness of many of the characters in DS9 helped me cope and understand when my sibling came out as non-binary to my family and our mother had a very hard time accepting it (as did I, who doesn’t inherit their parents misgivings). I got attached to Julian very quickly, and YEARS later, during the pandemic, I realized why the gender complexity made me so uncomfortable. Bashir, in all his awkwardness and half-earned cockiness, in all his rebellion against what his parents designed him to be, he would help me realize that I too was trans. 🏳️‍⚧️

When the pandemic hit, I got very, very isolated very quickly (as did we all). I also quickly, violently learned “do not kill the cringe inside of you, kill the part of you that cringes” which made me finally stop acting like I had any pride to lose and to actually watch TOS. Returning to Spock after many, many, many years of deliberately avoiding The Original Series. Not only did I discover the shocking amount (to me at the time) of excellent, timeless social commentary therein. More important than that, more than exploring the unknown, more important than knowing the right thing, more important than anything else, is the power of friendship. The triumvirate is the beating heart of that series. Most especially, the bond between Spock & Kirk. It is an incredibly rare thing for a relationship to bend reality, break time, transcend labels, and even transcend death the way that theirs does. To reach for someone who seems to be farthest from you. It’s something I continue to be in awe of, transcending brotherhood, transcending friendship, transcending romance, there’s something strange, even queer about it 🏳️‍🌈. I may even be so bold as to say, that after ten years of defiantly durable friendship, I may have realized I have a t’hy’la of my own. ❤️

Then, again, like it always does, as huge changes for better and worse in my life rock me to my core. As I wade into the waters of becoming an independent young adult, Star Trek is there to hand me a desperately needed life raft, and yet I need it more and less than I ever have. Characters like Spock, Data, and Julian Bashir were touchstones of my figuring out who I was as a kid. My sense of connection to Captain Pike (and the shows in which he’s featured) is something new. A life raft based in the things I know I am, and striving to become.

I could, and have already as much followers can attest, go on and on about the many facets of this character that I recognize in myself. He has given myself (and I’m certain others who identify with him) a great many gifts. This is the first time in my life that a male character in a position of power exhibited the same kind of masculinity I identify with the most, and that it was received by fans and in-universe as something overwhelmingly positive. The mere notion of it gives me an overwhelming sense of gender euphoria. As a trans man who doesn’t quite fit and never will, visually or in personality, the typical expectations of masculinity.

His struggle lies in allowing others to help him, when he builds himself around supporting others, something I also relate to. His struggle with impending disability is one with which I’m achingly familiar. The questions his sacrificial destiny raises regarding the religions he grew up influenced by. That innate desire to foster others and a need to be needed. Being unable to prevent himself from throwing his entire being into the work he is passionate about. He’s even given me an avenue through which to heal from some of the more, intimate, ways I was abused. I can’t put into words how much that means to me. Nor how healing it has been to let myself be so unashamedly attracted to someone and willing to explore that in a written, creative way.

The best part is that Pike really is just some guy! He’s a good one, but his strengths lie in the balancing act of knowing he is unremarkable while also understanding how valuable his personhood is to others. He is content with who he is, he doesn’t need to make history in a tangible way. He just needs to focus on being alive, and being kind, and knowing he’s not alone. Pike becomes (like I have) somebody who can reach out to those characters that are convinced they are completely alone in the universe (like Spock) and tell them it’s okay, and that they’re gonna be fine even if it doesn’t feel that way right now. His relationship to Spock and to his crew, that sense of compassion and paternity, at this point in my life I live in the between space of serving as a paternal figure and desperately needing (and even finding!) one. Realizing you’re not the center of the universe, but not alone in it, and being okay with the person you’ve become is a quintessential step across the threshold of childhood into being a happy adult. Captain Pike has, and still is, profoundly helping me do that.

People always talk about transformative works but, how are you supposed to feel when a single universe transforms you three, four, five times and still counting? How are you supposed to be normal about something that you can contribute most of your most personal moments self-realization to? Why would you EVER want to be normal, when a piece of fiction has done so much for you that not even one of the longest social media posts you’ve ever made hardly scratches the surface of how you feel about it? That every social media post, text, discord comment, or rant you’ve ever done about the topic doesn’t break the surface of the depth of your obsession? Of it’s meaning for you?

And I’m sure I’m not the first, only, or let alone the last person to feel this way about the franchise. I mean, just look at us!! Look at what we’ve done! What Star Trek and it’s insane, beautiful, unhinged Trekkies have done for the world! We reach for the stars, pull beautiful love stories out of the woodwork, save whales, create elaborate fanzines and costume culture. I couldn’t be more proud to be just one part of it in its 55 year legacy! Couldn’t be happier to be a Trekkie, there really isn’t anything else like it.

So maybe I should be okay, maybe it’s okay to find myself unable to stop talking about it. It deserves to be talked about.

LLAP 💚🖖🏻💚

[mypoisonedvine]

Can u pls write something like dark!reader x steve rogers high school AU , where R is rich spoil brat & she always had a crush on steve but she always bully him by calling him skinny and all and Then yrs later, time changes her family discarded her from will and she becomes poor and need job, got hired for PA by dark ceo!steve rogers who she bullied her all school lifee😈😈

okay this is a lot for a headcanon but I don’t have time to do a whole oneshot BUT I also really like it so we’re gonna just make a longass headcanon here we gooooo

warnings for heavy dub con, choking, slapping, degradation (by steve), bullying (by the reader), abortion mention, brief mention of/implied assault.

“heyo pipsqueak” you called out to get steve’s attention, laughing when he frowned.  “looks like you grew a whole inch over summer, be sure to have your mom draw a line in pencil on the doorframe.”

he just rolled his eyes and got back to chatting with his friend.  not friends, friend, cause he only had one: bucky, who snarled at you as well.

“pick on someone your own size, if you can find somebody with as big a head as you,” bucky shot back, making you scoff.

“you know, it’s a shame you hang out with this deformed freak, you could’ve been popular.  you’ve got the looks for it.”

“I’d rather keep my brains, thanks,” bucky explained as you walked away with your posse of fellow popular kids.

you didn’t used to be so mean to steve.  it was sort of a comedy of errors, really.  you two had been friends in elementary school-- you, him, and bucky were the rambunctious trio up until middle school.  

things change for boys and girls in middle school.  guys just get along with each other and don’t think about it much.  girls, though... girls need to be sharp.  it’s eat or be eaten.  and you wanted to eat.

you were lucky that you developed early.  it meant that girls respected you and boys feared you-- not just for your attractive features but for the fact that you loomed a foot over most of them.

you started to take advantage of it.  and by the time you realized you had feelings for your best friend steve, it was already too late-- he was at the bottom of the food chain and you were at the top.  

you told your new girl friends that you wanted to take steve to the sadie hawkins.  they laughed at you.  for a moment, you felt what it was like to be outcast and you never wanted to feel it again.  so, you told steve and bucky that you’d grown apart.  and you were happy to just be former friends...

it was steve that started it.  he called you out.  he told you that you were nothing like who he used to know-- you had become vapid and cold and narcissistic.

“you’re so busy worrying about what other people think, you never take the time to think for yourself.”  that was what he said.  and it fucking hurt.

“saw you talking to your boyfriend steve the dweeb,” your friend tanya announced at lunch just a few minutes after that conversation.  and you were angry, and hurt, and truly friendless despite being surrounded by other popular girls.  so you said some things you could never take back.

“steve?  as if.  did you know he still sleeps with a security blanket?  and he has his friend bucky fight for him every week cause if he took a punch he’d crumble to dust?”

and so, mortal enemies were formed.  it only got worse in high school, as you fought to secure your title at the top while steve and bucky’s presence filled your heart with guilt and your gut with anger.

if only you’d known how quickly you could fall from your high horse.

it started when you dated tanya’s ex, brock.  she was made so she spread a rumor that you would fuck any guy on the football team, even all of them at once.

apparently, a lot of people believed it since tanya had been your sidekick since 6th grade.

two football players believed it.  and when you wouldn’t follow through on it, you got yourself a black eye.

that meant you missed school for a week because you couldn’t possibly show up looking like that.  tanya told everyone it was because you got grounded and sent away to church camp after your parents caught you in bed with one of the neighbors.  so now your reputation was ‘sleeps with football players and old men.’

only brock had been there for you.... but it turned out he had motives of his own.  you had originally planned to wait until college, but brock was clearly wanting something in return for putting up with dating pariah #1... so you let him take your virginity.

the condom broke.  when you dashed to the trash can to hurl in the middle of history class, you knew something was wrong.  (and lost that many more social points in the process.)

brock dumped you the second he found out you were pregnant.  didn’t even help you pay for the abortion.  he got back together with tanya and told her the real reason for your ‘medical absence’.  and that was the last straw for the former homecoming queen.

the humiliation drove you to some.... poor choices, for the next few years.  you tried not to think about them now, but it was hard not to when their consequences were staring you right in the face: no money, no job, nearly homeless, and desperate.

over a hundred job applications later, only one had called you back and scheduled an interview.  and you only needed one.

so there you were, waiting in the chilly lobby area while the receptionist typed away and chomped her gum, tapping your toes and glancing out the window occasionally.

you were surprised when you had been told your interview would be on the 51st floor.  you sort of assumed it would just be some random manager interviewing you, not somebody important enough to have a waiting room like this, or a view like this.

when a man stepped out from the nearby hallway, your eyes went wide.  he was tall, and handsome, and obviously muscular underneath the exquisite suit.  you suddenly felt underdressed in your hand-me-down business clothes.

then he called your name.  and you realized he was going to interview you.

you stood up and nodded.  “you can follow me to my office,” he instructed with a smile, leading you down the hall to the corner office.  you were in awe of the grandiosity of it all.  you were dumbfounded when you saw CEO on the door.

“there must have been a mistake,” you explained as he shut the door behind you.  “I... I’m just interviewing for an entry-level position.”

“no, there’s no mistake,” he shook his head, “I have you exactly where I want you.  take a seat.”

he circled his desk and sat on the other side of it, resting his elbows on the desk and giving you an oddly smug smile.  an awkward silence was finally broken when he realized, “you must not remember me.”

“I... have we met?” 

“I don’t blame you, I look pretty different,” he shrugged.  “I must’ve grown a whole inch this summer.”

you gave him a confused look before realization dawned on you, along with shame, and fear.

“oh... oh my god, Steve?!” you squawked.  he just grinned.  “you look... you look...”

“taller?”

sexy.

“you look great!” you said aloud instead.

“yeah,” he agreed, “wish I could say the same for you.”

you swallowed dryly.  “so that’s what you want,” you sighed, “to get back at me.  I understand.  I deserve it...”

“I don’t want revenge,” he denied.  “I’m just sorry to see you haven’t been... thriving, since high school.  your job history--” he scanned your resume briefly-- “well, you don’t have one.  have you been slumming it all this time?”

“without my parents’ money?  yeah,” you admitted.  

“surprised you applied here, instead of turning tricks on 5th and Columbus.”

your back straightened and your eyes went wide at that comment.

“I mean, you’re already dressed for it,” he smirked.

you stood up and crossed your arms.  “if you’re just going to insult me, then I’ll leave now.  I’m sorry for everything I did to you, steve,” you announced, voice shaky with oncoming tears.

“can you really afford to leave?” he pressed.  “if you have a chance at a job?”

that, unfortunately, got your attention.  “you... you might actually offer me something?”

“I will offer you something,” he corrected, “if you just sit down and listen.”

you relented, returning to your seat.  you could stand a lot more insults if there was money on the line.

“to be honest, there’s no way I can hire you for the position you applied for,” he sighed.  “you’re just underqualified.  but I think I can create a position for you.”

you liked the sound of that.  “what kind of position?”

“well, that’s tricky, seeing as you don’t have any skills,” he frowned, “except one.  so that’s the one I plan on using.”

the look in his eyes made it all too clear what he was referring to, but as you shrunk into the leather chair he went ahead and clarified.

“I’ll pay you whatever salary you saw in the ad.  but you won’t be doing data analysis or office management or anything like that.  all you’ll be doing is spreading your legs for me whenever I fucking want.”

fear shot up your spine; his eyes were devouring you, pinning you to the chair, and you tried to process that.  “I--”

“before you say anything,” he interrupted immediately, “let’s just be perfectly clear that this might be your only shot at a real job.  what I’m offering has better pay than stripping, and better benefits than hooking.  and unless you have any education or experience I don’t know about, you’re totally fucked.”

“seems like I’m fucked either way,” you mumbled, making him laugh.

“see, you’ve still got that sharp tongue,” he grinned.  “can’t wait to put it to better use.”

maybe it was just desperation for cash.  maybe it was because he was good-looking and you could do a lot worse.  maybe it was because, on some level, you felt like you deserved his punishment after how horribly you’d treated him.

“I’ll do it,” you sighed.  “when do I start?”

he stood up and reached across the desk to grab your neck, glaring at you.  “right now.”

his free hand was already fumbling with his belt, the one on your throat guiding you downwards.  “on your knees,” he instructed, and you slipped out of the chair and onto the floor.

he let go of your neck and you figured he was going to come to you, but instead he stood still and demanded: “crawl.”

debasing as it was, you crawled on your knees to his side of the desk, and he laughed at you bitterly.  when you reached his feet and popped back up, you gasped at the sight of his hard cock right in front of your face. it was bigger than your face.  and it was dripping precum.

“don’t get so bug-eyed, you can handle it,” he grinned.  “if your mouth’s as big as I remember...”

you didn’t want to hear any more.  you just wanted to get this over with, so you quickly took his head between your lips and started to suck.  you were shocked when he slapped you, hard enough to knock his length from your mouth and to make you reach up and clutch your stinging cheek.

“fucking whore,” he grimaced, “did I say you could put it in your mouth?  god, you’re so fucking desperate.  just open your fucking mouth and I’ll show you what I want, okay?”

you nodded and stammered an apology, looking up at him with watery eyes and an open mouth.  he swiped the latest drop of precum on your tongue before gliding his cock over it, grabbing your hair to keep you steady as he pushed himself to the back of your throat.

“fuck, that’s better,” he sighed.  “so much better when you just do what you’re told.  I remember how you used to be so cruel with this mouth.  now you’re being so welcoming...”

you just sat there and let him use your mouth, trying not to gag when he hit your throat.

“look up at me,” he instructed, “yeah, that’s it.  can’t have you forgetting who’s doing this to you, now can we?”

that went on for a bit longer until mascara-stained tears streaked your face, which he seemed rather proud of.

“damn, wouldn’t mind having you swallow my come right now,” he admitted, “but I have bigger plans.  get up, bend over my desk.”

you coughed briefly when he pulled out, but did as you were told.  he instantly yanked your skirt up over your ass and spanked you several times roughly, making you sob and whine.

“wanna see this ass all bruised up in the shape of my hand,” he explained.  “so we can both remember how hard I fucked you.”

he tore your panties like they were paper, chuckling when he found you already wet.

“dripping already, just from choking on my cock?  poor baby...”

you spread your legs slightly, though you were sure nothing was going to adequately prepare you for his size.

“you figured out how to use birth control since graduating, right?” he asked, and you nodded quickly.  “good.  cause I’m not using a condom,” he continued as he let his cock glide over your folds, groaning slightly, “and there’s no way in hell I’m pulling out.”

he pushed forward in one brutal stroke, making you cry out loudly.  you really hoped these rooms were mostly soundproof.

“shit, you’re tight,” he hissed, already pulling back and thrusting back in.  “clearly you recovered from your years of slutting it up in high school.”

“that-- that wasn’t true,” you defended.

“oh, just shut up,” he growled.

he fucked you fast and deep, his hips pushing yours into the edge of his desk with each thrust.  his hands pinned you down at your shoulders, another reminder that you were entirely at his mercy.

“fuck, this is just what you needed... somebody to put you in your place.  makes sense that it should be me, since you hated me so much.”

“I didn’t h-hate you,” you hiccuped. 

“yeah, you wanted me, didn’t you?”

“always,” you admitted.

“wanted my fat fuckin’ cock to tear up your pussy?  is that it?”

“yes,” you moaned, “yes, steve, wanted to be yours.”

“even when I was skinny and short?”

“even when you hated me,” you added.

he growled slightly and you felt your walls tighten around him suddenly.  he chuckled, clearly aware that you were enjoying this.

“you want more, baby?  want me to fuck you harder?”

“whatever you want,” you answered instead.  “just use me however you want.”

he moaned and leaned down to cage your body in with his.  “fuck, baby... you’re taking this better than I thought you would.  such a good girl for me, huh?  such a good little slut.  want me to use you, baby?  take all my anger out on you?”

“yes,” you whispered, sobbing when he began to fuck you more brutally than you thought possible.  but it felt good.  so good that your legs were shaking, so good that you felt even better when he tugged your hair.

“yeah, gonna come on my cock, aren’t you?” 

you nodded and bit your lip.

“m’ close too,” he admitted, “you’re gonna be so full of my come, it’s gonna be dripping down your legs when you walk out of here...”

your orgasm made your body shake and your eyes roll back.

“fuck, I can feel you coming,” he groaned, “fuck, just like that-- fuck!”

you felt his warmth fill you as his cock flexed against your walls.  you were busy trying to catch your breath when he slumped down on top of you and pushed the air from your lungs.

“damn... didn’t think I was gonna come that fast,” he sighed.  “see what you do to me?  fuck, I knew this was a good idea.”

sure, it felt good, but you were sure he was only going to get rougher and meaner the longer this went on.  you couldn’t imagine how you were going to get out of here without somebody noticing your wrinkled clothes, messed-up hair and, as he’d pointed out himself, come all over your thighs.

“guess I’ll see you at 8am tomorrow, huh?” he chuckled, giving you an unexpected peck on the cheek.  you couldn’t answer, though, interrupted by the phone on his desk ringing.  “oh, sorry, gotta get this.”

he reached for the phone and picked it up, bringing to his ear all without pulling out of you or even lifting his body from on top of yours.

“bucky, hey,” steve grinned as he spoke into the phone, looking down at you and stroking your hair, “you’re not gonna believe who I ran into today...”

[lady-ashfade]

@butchire

hi!! i saw u were doing this and it looked really cool so i figured id participate :] ty if u do mine! hope ur havin a great day/night, stranger

Name/Nickname: Gabriella/Gabi/Gabe

Pronouns: They/Them

What I Look Like: Tall-ish (with my boots), brown medium length wolf-cut for hair (also have long bangs), chubby, big chest (that i try to bind often), adrodynous looking face (unless i do feminine makeup)

What I’m Like: im told im intimidating at first, and i have some serious RBF, so i get why. but everyone when they get to know me start to realize im really not scary, and i can be really charming to others. that sounds dumb but its what my friends said. i have a lot of social anxiety though, i fidget a lot, but i do have a lot of anger i take out on the kids who used to bully me, i used to chase down the boys who were dicks to me (lmao)

Hobbies: a lot of drawing, video games, baking sometimes, singing

Anything u should know: My style is very Alt, i aim for punk but usually just fall at grunge/emo, wear all black clothing mostly unless its patterned sweats + band shirts. wear a lot of silver jewelry (multiple earrings, lot of big rings w/ skulls and onyx on them, several various necklaces) makeup is done with a lot of eyeliner and black eyeshadow, black used as contour also. also leather jackets and cargo pants. i almost always wear these big heavy leather boots.

Who I want (age range): the Party (mike/will/max/el/lucas/dustin etc, but im also near steve/nancy/jonathan/eddie’s age so they can also fall in there.)im unlabelled so any gender works good for me, i am somewhat woman-leaning tho

Thank you for being here! And for participating in this event.

Now who do I ship you with?..

—

..

…

..

I ship you with Nancy because the opposite attract. You guys being the dark and light couple would be the cutest- I ship.

You’re a Byers, you’ve always been picked on so that’s nothing new to you. You are Jonathan’s twin, even though he’s five minutes older- He’s your little brother in your eyes.

You guys meet in elementary school when some boy was picking on Nancy, stole her book away from her and held it above her reach. Flirting with her. But you being the cool person you are walked right up to him and kicked him in the balls and grabbed the book. You guys become best friends after that, but it didn’t last.

Nancy and you grow apart because she wanted to be in the more popular crowd and you liked being the outcast. She you guys waved and gave each other smiles in the hallway but nothing more. Or when you picked up Will with Jonathan you had a conversation every now and then.

But when everything happened in season one, you got closer. Everyone that happened with Jonathan, happened with you instead. So you got together around the middle of season two. Best couple in my eyes-

Hc’s

Walking around with your arms around her in school, to make people back off.

You are like a guard dog, but little do people know that she does the same thing to you.

She likes to steal your clothes even if it doesn’t fit her style. She loves the way they smell like you .

She has one of your rings around her neck on a necklace because it slipped off her fingers.

She is your sweet supportive girlfriend. Like if sing in a talented show she is cheering you on.

Sits on your lap when you play video games and tries it one of twice because she wants to be closer to you.

Baking with her is the cutest thing ever. She loves it, always end up laugh together. Bring her cupcakes and she will smother you in kisses.

Drawing is her favorite thing to watch you do. She had a whole scrapbook of you guys and your drawings are in there.

Don’t think if you do anything cool like in a talented show, or sports or anything that she wouldn’t force it to be in the new paper.

Being the most badass couple when shit goes done. Like punch a bear badass.

[pussyhoundspock]

i know most of like to normal guy code dean but i think elementary school dean, like kindergarten to fifth grade aged dean (and even middle school) just had absolutely no chance of fitting in / avoiding being bullied or a social outcast. he’s got difficulty speaking and when he is speaking it’s graphic, violent, scary. or about the three year old he’s raising. can’t sit still or focus, wearing oversized clothing that doesn’t smell or look right, weird-ass lunches, holes in his shoes -- going from one small, rural mid-western town to another. sometimes your only comfortable on the fringes of society as some sort of monster hunting outcast because you never fit into that society ever! 

[rabbitrah]

Treasured Hatred

When I moved to a new town when I was 11, I had never really experienced bullying. I was a weird kid and had experienced people saying mean stuff to me, but my elementary school had a cohesive anti-bullying plan, so it was never a real issue.

Then I went to a new school. These kids were fresh from an elementary school that definitely did not have a cohesive anti-bullying program. They existed in an iron-clad social hierarchy with clearly marked Undesirables at the bottom who were routinely tortured and humiliated by the Social Elites. Talk about culture shock.

I was quickly sized up by my peers and shuffled towards the bottom of the social ranks. There were about 4-5 kids beneath me, but I was still quite a ways from the middle. I observed my classmates carefully, trying to understand this sixth grade dystopia I had just landed in.

There was one girl who was the unquestionable leader and the biggest bully. She had a circle of friends, and beneath them were the kids who weren't her friends, but who had their own clout and she didn't pick on. Then there were those on the bottom of the pile. Generally they either looked or acted differently from others. Most were ND, I'm sure. These kids formed a loose friend group, but I avoided them, sensing that it was safer to eat alone rather than join them.

When the Social Leader started to pick on someone, often out of nowhere, her peers were quick to back her up. Often the middle-rung kids would also pitch in, until almost the entire class would single out to taunt one particular person. I became one of her targets as well, for a time. I wasn't attacked as persistently as some others, but she'd routinely pick something arbitrary about me to mock. I remember one day she made me cry because I said my favorite color was purple.

Others didn't have it so easy. Once, during a game of dodgeball, one of the lowest-rung kids made the mistake of complaining about something the Social Leader had done. One of the middle-crust kids overheard and went over to report this like they were a member of the secret police or something. She immediately stormed over to confront him. She called him names and told him what a terrible person he was. Her friends backed her up. The middle crust kids backed her up. He started to cry. She said, "Why are you crying? I'm the one who should he crying! YOU did this!"

Later in the girl's locker room, they continued to talk about what a terrible person he was, how dare he, what a cry baby, etc. The thing that shocked me most of all was that one of the bottom crust girls, a favorite target of the Elites and someone who I had thought was his friend, joined in. The Social Leader was delighted by her contribution. The girl didn't earn a higher ranking in the hierarchy, but she did get a brief spotlight of approval, and basked in it. I felt nauseous.

My own social salvation came when I made a friend in the other sixth grade class. She was a star soccer player with social skills and thus had full immunity from bullying. This girl, who would later become my best friend, was tough as nails. At the age of eleven she had learned to stare down and scare off anyone who approached her with even slightly taunting energy. For many years after I would be almost embarrassingly grateful to her from rescuing me from being an eternal outcast.

My new friendship gave me something to hold onto, but she was in another class and couldn't protect me most of the time. A memorable event included the Social Leader leading our warm-ups in PE. (Literally, where was our gym teacher?) She made us run laps in the gym basement with the lights off. I found it extremely scary and asked if she'd turn them on. She laughed at me for being afraid of the dark and taunted me for the rest of class. Eventually I cried, which she also found funny. Still, having a friend meant that I wasn't alone in the universe. I had someone I could talk to after school who would nod knowingly and then talk ask if I wanted to watch X-men.

Things were much better in the seventh grade. My best friend was in the same class as me. So was social leader, but she couldn't get near me anymore. When I stood by my best friend, I imagined that there was a forcefield emanating from her. I was protected. We had a few other friends as well, book worms who were less concerned about seeming cool. The social hierarchy was changing.

Close to the end of the year I had to work on a group project with my old bully, one of her friends, and the most bullied kid in our grade. While we were working, he said something innocuous, and she started mocking him and saying it was stupid. Her friend started to laugh along with her. Their target was getting red in the face. I remembered the way she'd made so many kids cry for no reason, confident that everyone around her would either join in or stay silent. I hated her so much, and in that moment, even without my best friend's forcefield to protect me, I wasn't afraid.

I looked her straight in the eye with my coldest stare and said "That's not funny." The energy shifted dramatically. I defended what their target had said. There was silence. Pure loathing flowed from her to me and I sent it right back. She wanted to put me back in my place, I know she did, but I hadn't been a target of hers in a year. She looked over at her friend, who wasn't laughing anymore. He said, "Oh, yeah. I guess I can see that now." My old bully was mortified.

I don't remember what happened after that, just the roar of victory in my ears. I finally understood it. She was still a miserable little sadist, but the source of her power was the people around her, and I was one of those people. When I saw her edging in for the kill, I had the power to knock the knife out of her hand, and now I knew that none of her friends would jump in to stop me.

By the eighth grade the social dynamic had completely shifted into three distinct camps: Hers, mine, and the boys, who had segregated themselves for some reason and owed allegiance no one. Happily, there didn't seem to be any more outcasts. The boys who had been bullied were now a member of the Boys. The girls who had been outcasts were absorbed into our group. Looking a certain way, dressing a certain way, and social awkwardness weren't grounds for alienation any longer. I don't know if she was even the leader of her group anymore.

None of this felt as tangible or serious by the time we were in high school. There were easily four times as many people and we all started to exist in nebulous, overlapping friend groups. My old bully wasn't particularly popular or noteworthy anymore, but I never stopped hating her. I kept the memories of the fear and emotional pain she'd inflicted in my pocket and I was careful not to lose them.

The last time I saw her, we were 21. I was having a drink in our town's pub with my roommate, someone who I went to our high school but I'd gotten close to only later. My old bully walked in and saw my roommate. They'd been on a team together, gone to a few parties together. She made a beeline for our table with a "Hey girl!" eager to catch up. She only recognized me afterwards. We acknowledged each other and she went back to chatting with my roommate. When she said goodbye, she moved in to give me a hug. I hugged her back.

I wonder if she ever remembers the things she used to do and say as a child. Does she remember it at all?I can remember how much I hated her, but now my anger has a different target. Where were the adults in our lives for all of this? Why did her family fail to teach her how to be kind? Where were her teachers in grades k-8 who failed to notice this behavior and create a plan to combat it in a healthy way? Why didn't any adults step in when kids were being tormented for their appearance and neurodivergences?

I don't know why I'm writing about this now. I was rummaging through my pockets and found that old hate, I guess. I never did lose it. But I'm casting it out now. It's easy to say that children are cruel, but more accurate to say that they don't have to be, not when the adults in their lives show them how to forge a kinder road. I hope my old bully, an adult woman now, found that road at some point. I hope she's walking it, and I hope that she has people with her who love her. If she remembers any of it at all, I hope she forgives herself.

You were a child, and someone should have been looking after you too.

[girlofmanyfandoms]

Advocates

A/n: So, I feel bad for not posting lately, here’s my AU where I take a slightly different take on the Keeper of the Lost Cities series. A few changes that I’m trying to make: more friendship-based, no love triangle, probably more gay, more racially diverse cast (without any harmful stereotypes). I’ll try to stay true to each character’s personality!

I’ll also take this time to say there’s stuff I haven’t released yet, so tell me if you want me to release those!

Disclaimer: This is in no way hating on Shannon’s series, I just wanna see where the story would go if we took a slightly different approach!

Warnings: I didn’t edit this at all-

Word count: 2868

Tag list:  @everyonehasthoughts @imaramennoodle @bookwyrminspiration @holesinmyfalseconfidence @percabetn @an-absolute-travesty @linhammon-roll-bromance101 @linhamon-roll @holesinmyfalseconfidence @linhamon2 @a-lonely-tatertot @loverofallthingssmart

Let me know if you want to be added or if I forgot to tag you!

“Uh, no boys, she’s sitting with me.”

Jensi raised an eyebrow. “What’s wrong with her sitting here, Marella?”

“Nothing! I just need to pull her to the side for some girl talk.” Marella pulled Sophie’s sleeve, navigating across the cafeteria to an empty booth in the corner. Sitting down and adjusting herself, she extended a hand. “Marella Redek. No nicknames. I know the ins and outs of everything around here.”

“Sophie Foster,” Sophie introduced, shaking her hand, though her response came out as a murmur. She brushed her hair out of her face, trying to shrink as small as possible. “But I’m sure you knew that.”

Marella nodded. “You must’ve caused the Council a lot of trouble if you’ve gotten your way into Level Two right after being with humans. What was it like, by the way?”

“Pretty normal, I guess. Well, not for me, I was a highschool senior at 12, and my parents wanted me to attend community college instead of an Ivy League. Even the newspapers were talking about it, and that ticked my parents off big time.”

“What?”

“I know, crazy, right?” Sophie started digging into her lunch. “Why would the news choose a story about a child over actual breaking news?”

“No, I meant those words you used. A high school, college, a new paper? What do they mean?”

“Oh, that’s right! Those are more human terms, sorry,” Sophie apologized. “There are levels of human school: Preschool, which is usually ages 1 to 4, elementary school is from ages 5 to 10, middle school is ages 11 to 13, high school is ages 14 to 17, and college is at least four years, and gives you the certification you need to get a good paying job. Newspapers are just mini books made completely of paper that tell you what’s going on in the world.”

“Oh,” Marella said, looking off into the distance. “I guess I never really thought that human school would be so different from Foxfire. We just have these levels, and then the elite levels. What was your human family like?”

Sophie tugged out an eyelash, which didn’t go unnoticed on Marella’s end. “U-um-“

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be pushing you so much on your first day. I should be helping you adjust.” She toyed with her food. “So, how’s our world been for you so far?”

“A little overwhelming,” Sophie admitted. “I don’t feel half as glamorous as anything around me. We don’t exactly have crystal houses and fancy ball gowns in San Diego.”

“You don’t?” Marella shook her head vigorously. “Right. Sorry. Let’s get back on track. Anything you think you’ll need to know that I can help you with?”

Sophie clutched her knees, now rolled up into a ball. This Marella girl was a bit intense at first, but maybe she wasn’t so bad. After all, she had saved her from sitting with some yes-boys. The declared leader of them seemed friendly, but a little too hyper. No, she decided, Marella wasn’t half bad. “I don’t know. Anything really, you know best.”

“Alright, then. This place is sort of a maze, try to find someone with a similar schedule to you so you can walk together until you know your way around. You know Stina Heks?”

Sophie shivered and nodded, thinking back to seeing her raging through the halls screaming about someone making her bald. She could’ve sworn she heard her say “Disney,” too.

“Stay away from her. Stereotypical bully, not afraid of fighting dirty. The Vackers, Keefe Sencen, and their little bubble are all the buzz. They’re pretty nice, and Sencen’s a bit of a flirt, but if you don’t like attention, maybe steer clear from them.”

Sophie let out a bitter laugh. “Easier said than done. The Vackers are the ones who found me. Fitz brought me here, Alden sent him out to find me, and Della helped me get ready for Foxfire.” Sophie paused to pull out another eyelash. “I don’t think Biana likes me much.

Marella’s eyes widened in shock as she leaned back and blew out a breath.

“Is that bad?” Sophie was panicking a bit now. What had she screwed up now?

“Well, it’s not good for your social status, that’s for sure.” Marella started slicing her food, which resembled Jello. “If you’re on her bad side, you’ll want to stay away from Maruca, too. They’re best friends.”

“Great,” Sophie sighed. One day in and she already had a long list of people to avoid. “Anything else I should know about?”

“Oh, yeah, but I’ll stick to school stuff. Your most difficult subjects are gonna be Elementalism and Alchemy.”

“I can help with that,” a boy called, sliding next to Sophie in the booth and placing his tray down. “Dex Dizznee, by the way.”

“Sophie Foster.” She grinned a bit. Edaline had gone without her to the apothecary and mentioned the “Disneys.” This must’ve been who Stina was shouting at. “I saw what you did to Stina earlier. Wicked move.”

“Finally, someone understands the genius! She deserved it, too, after what a pain she was last year. That’s where the alchemy comes in handy.”

Marella rolled her eyes, and Dex leaned back casually. “Don’t act like you don’t think she deserved it Marella. You know she did.”

“Ok, it was kind of satisfying seeing her run around like that-“

“Yes!”

“-but don’t take it as a sign that I’ll join in. I have a reputation to protect.”

Dex snorted. “Yeah, as the gossip girl.”

“I don’t gossip, I have connections,” she corrected.

“Whatever you say madam,” Dex relented jokingly. “What about you, Soph? Got anything you could build a reputation for?”

“Not really,” she expressed. “I don’t want the spotlight. I just want to make it by here.”

Marella took a bite of her lunch and scoffed. “Good luck with that.”

“Tell you what, my next class is Multispecesial Studies, I can walk you to Alchemy,” Dex offered.

“Really? That would be great, thank you!”

“No problem. It’s hard making it by for people like us.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Marella chugged down her lushberry juice.

“We’re different, special.”

“So, outcasts?” Sophie rested her head in her hand and stirred her drink nonchalantly, taking in the view of the cafeteria. It was remarkably pristine and clean, its white walls with blue accents not showing a hint of grime. With the barstools at tables all around the center and the booths to the side, it looked like every diner’s dream.

“No, not outcasts. Think more sideline supporters.”

“So, advocates,” Sophie helped. “I don’t really see that, but maybe one day. Right now I just want to pass.”

“Well you can’t do that on an empty stomach,” Marella chided playfully. “Eat up. Lady Galvin is a stickler for accuracy.”

————

Fantastic. Sophie had only been there one day and she had already ruined her Alchemy teacher’s favorite cloak. Marella was right, Alchemy was tough. She’d have to take Dex up on his offer. She wandered through the halls, trying to find the way to her next class, P.E. She strolled like this for a few more minutes before a snobby voice called to her from down the hall.

“Lost, new kid?”

Sophie winced. Great. The number one person on her People To Avoid list had already found a way into her world. She attempted to speed walk, but the clacking of leveled boots followed quickly, and she was spun around with a harsh push.

Stina laughed, and for a 12 year old elven child, it sounded quite maniacal. “Why so frightened? I don’t bite. Much.”

Somehow Sophie sincerely doubted that. There had to be some fangs behind that evil smirk. But maybe she could play it cool with this demon in disguise.

“I’m not frightened, just lost. Do you think you could point me to P.E.? I don’t want to be late on my first day.” Sophie held her breath, hoping she came off as casual.

“My pleasure,” Stina grinned a sickeningly sweet smile. “In fact, I’ll walk you there. Wouldn’t want our newest prodigy to miss class because of some weak instructions, now would we?”

“No, of course not.”

Stina linked their arms, acting as if they were old pals going on a walk in the park to catch up. It was silent except for the shuffling of their shoes, so Sophie made sure she was hyper aware of her surroundings, trying to memorize the numbers on each locker and how they connected to the twisting, winding paths of the school.

At this point, she was sure Stina planned to do something crazy to her, like stuff her in a locker or hide her body, so she had to think fast. Luckily, this was her specialty.

“Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry,” Sophie began, stopping abruptly. Stina stumbled a bit, but regained her composure in seconds. “I forgot something at my locker! Oh, I’m so sorry, but Edaline told me I’d need what was in my locker. You go ahead, I shouldn’t keep you from your class! Don’t worry, I’ll find my way to Phys Ed.”

Sophie speed walked away, leaving Stina in the dust. Once she rounded the corner, she took off, speeding through corridors and halls until she ran out of breath. Giving up, she rested her head against the wall, trying to clear her head when she was forced to her feet and slammed into a locker. There was a click, and through the slits, Sophie could see Stina’s eyes crinkled in smugness and satisfaction. Yet through all of this, the only thing Sophie was thinking of was, That was pretty lame on a scale of bullying-ness.

“Good luck getting out of there, Foster,” she remarked. “Now, you get comfortable, I have some business to attend to.”

“Gonna go sharpen your claws?” Sophie snapped.

“No, newbie, I’m going to put the princess of Everglen in her place. Don’t worry, I’ll keep you updated!”

And with that, Stina clacked away, her footsteps receding and the silence finding its way to creep back in.

________

Sophie had no way of telling time. This she had learned when she realized she had in fact left something in her locker: her Imparter and the Ruewen crest. She let out an audible groan of frustration, and tried to occupy herself with her temporary home. There were books about unicorn breeding on the shelf above her, to which Sophie wrinkled her nose. Next, there was a box of animal pins, glittering and shiny, and she was very tempted to stuff a few in her pocket, but she restrained herself. She took to examining the pictures on the door with what little light she had and realized, to her disdain, that this was Stina’s locker.

Sophie shivered in disgust and tried patting herself out and getting the Stina vibes off of her.

“Well, if I’m going to be stuck here, I might as well take advantage of it,” she decided. Sophie put all of her energy into memorizing the photo album beside her, and wound up with some lovely photos of baby Stina, along with some other cherished memories. She was scanning through Stina’s diary and chuckling to herself at her inevitable revenge when yelling came from around the corner. Sophie dropped the journal and shuffled forward a bit, peering through the slits. This could be her saving.

“MESS WITH BIANA ONE MORE TIME-” Maruca had her pinned to the wall and looked ready to murder her, but Stina remained unfazed.

“Relax, duchess, you might be the heir soon,” Stina responded coolly.

That was the breaking point. Maruca opened her locker, which was, unfortunately, next to the one Sophie was trapped in, and slammed it shut.

“Maruca!” Sophie yelled, but Stina rattled in her locker, and shouted curses over her, both to insult Maruca and to put an end to Sophie’s escape plan.

Maruca was quick to exit, and soon enough it was just Stina and Sophie, trapped in their lockers, trying to determine the other person’s next move.

“Do you happen to know how to break down locker doors?” Stina commented dryly.

“Would I still be here if I did?”

“Fair.”

“You got a hairpin?” Sophie asked. “Or some thin piece of metal you can slide in between the crack of our lockers? I might be able to break out of mine by picking the lock.”

“And what about me? Gonna leave me here to rot while you run free?” She harrumphed. “I don’t think so. If I’m suffering you suffer with me.”

“I’ll get you out too, just answer the question and slide the metal through the crack.”

Stina huffed, but Sophie heard the sound of metal on metal scratch as something hit her foot. “My family crest. Do not scratch it.”

“You got it.” Sophie used her fingernails to get a little bit of extra room before sliding the crest through the door. She maneuvered it a bit, and the door let out a click as it swung open. Sophie fell forward face first, but sat up and whooped in victory.

Stina cleared her throat. “I’m still here.”

“Oh, I know,” Sophie poked smugly. “But if I’m going to break you outta there, you’re going to owe me a favor.”

“I do NOT-“

“Fine, then stay there. And spend all day, heck, maybe even until tomorrow, stuck in that cramped locker with no food or water whatsoever.” Sophie began to stroll away slowly, biding for time just in case Stina changed her mind about the offer.

“Fine,” she grumbled. “Just get me out.”

Sophie cheered to herself silently and crouched down in front of the locker and got to work. Stina was peering through the slits in the locker, and for a moment they felt each other’s breath on their faces and they met eyes before glaring at each other and backing up a bit. The door swung open, and Stina came crashing down onto Sophie.

Stina pushed herself off of her quickly, seeming very flustered. She reached out a hand to Sophie, which she took. Stina shook Sophie’s hand off of hers.

“I need my family crest,” she said, looking off to the side uncomfortably.

“Oh,” Sophie frowned, unsure why she felt a little disappointed. Probably because my back hurts and I was just refused the little she could have given as thanks, she thought. “Right. Take it.”

Stina’s fingers brushed against Sophie’s as she took it back and pinned it onto her cloak once more. “Well.” Stina lifted her nose upon in the air, regaining her haughty facade. “Until we meet again, Foster.”

“Yeah, Sophie nodded, getting back to her feet. Once Stina was out of earshot, she muttered, “Hopefully that’s never.”

Sophie dusted herself off, finally registering her circumstances. She was late for class, and she looked disheveled. Stina had just walked off, leaving her lost, confused, and just waiting for a punishment of her lifetime. Sighing, she walked along the edges of a pyramid.

“Ms. Foster,” a cold voice crowed from behind her.

Sophie recognized that voice. Dame Alina. “Yes, ma’am?”

“Is there a particular reason that you’re not in class right now?”

“Uh-“

“Incoming!” a boy screamed from the top of his lungs, a bunch of verminions on his tail. Alina shrieked and ran into a neighboring hall for shelter. Sophie took this as an opportunity to find her way out of this maze and escape Alina’s grasp. She followed the boy until they reached the Healing Center, where he hid until the verminions passed by. Sophie stopped. She could go in and ask whatever medic was present for directions, but the thought of going anywhere near a doctor made her sick to the stomach.

“Can I help you, new girl?”

Sophie jumped. The boy she had been following was right in front of her, and she instinctively slunk back.

“Chill, I won’t hurt you. The name’s Keefe, but you can call me-“

“Sorry Keefe, but I’m really late for class, do you know where P.E. Is?”

He furrowed his eyebrows and massaged his neck, looking a bit hurt. “Uh, yeah, take a left after the next three halls.”

“Thank you!” Sophie bolted to class and arrived there out of breath.

“Sophie! Just in time for us to start splotching,” Dex waved her over. “It’s easy, you just use your telekinesis to move this marble into the other person. If you succeed, it bursts and you get a paint splotch on you.”

“Great,” she muttered. “You won’t believe what I’ve just gone through.”

“Tell me at the end of class. We’re gonna need all of our focus for this.”

“Alright,” she sighed. She couldn’t be upset, seeing Dex that excited lifted her mood just a bit. And that was just the boost she needed.

________

This was it. It was down to her and Fitz for the Splotching Champion title. Sophie gathered her concentration. She could not mess this up.

The splotcher was thrown in between them, and Sophie gave it her all. The marble exploded with a loud boom, and they were both thrown into opposite sides of the room. Sophie saw nothing but the green paint, and then darkness.

[laceymorganwrites]

Red lily

Word Count: 2,662

Pairing: Tendo x fem!reader

Warnings: swearing, slight mentions of bullying (Nothing explicit)

A/N: okay so this is really self indulgent. All of the Habits and past About the Reader are taken from myself (except for the homeschooling lol). And I´m Pretty sure I wrote Tendo ooc. But whatever. I quickly wanted to say why I wrote him like this: I relate to him a whole lot cause like him People were scared of me as a child too. I´m also regarded as the weird one and I wanted you guys to know that that´s okay. if you´re different and People tell you you´re weird, take it as a compliment, I know it´s hard, but you got this! Being weird is Nothing to be ashamed of

You didn´t belong in Shiratorizawa and everyone knew it. You just stood out with your quirky habits and weird looks as well as your behavior, you were different from your fellow students.

Never being one to like it when all the attention was on her, the elite school wasn´t a good match for you.

Of course your parents thought otherwise, once you had the grades to be able to enroll, no other options existed anymore. You were thankful for the opportunity at first, after all Shiratorizawa´s reputation preceded the school.

And once you were there it felt like all your dreams and nightmares came true at the same time.

For one the school was very prestigious and large, there were so many interesting classes and clubs that you had trouble to choose in which one you wanted to partake.

The students and teachers seemed really nice too at first, the volleyball club was the absolute pride of the school, making everyone else feel invisible which you were thankful for.

You never knew how to make friends anyway, nobody ever wanted to be your friend and for as long as you could remember you were always alone, an outcast, a weirdo, a girl who just didn´t know any better. How could you when nobody ever taught you how to be socially acceptable?

The bullying didn´t bother you until middle school, you didn´t comprehend it back in elementary school, you simply concentrated on your school work until the bullying got so far that you couldn´t even do that anymore.

Middle school was rough, you almost got kicked out because your bullies tried to pin the blame on you, which was easy enough. If one was different it was easy to make them the bad guy. Your parents had you home schooled from then on.

They were always supportive of you, giving you enough freedom to do all the things you wanted, to try out different things and they were still close enough for you to make you feel loved.

Because of that you never bothered meeting new people in school, why should you? They would only be scared of you again.

It was always rough being the odd one out at the beginning of the year, but your initial fear of Shiratorizawa´s students being entitled luckily turned out to be false.

Naturally most of them left you alone, which was way better than actively bullying you, you just weren´t like them and for the first time it felt like that was fine.

For the first time in your life school wasn´t a horrible place you didn´t want to go to, it was a place where you could study the things that interested you, you finally had fun studying again. And in club times you sat by yourself, doing homework and writing poems.

It was weird how you still had that hobby when it was one of the most major reasons you were bullied in the first place, the contents of your poems were rather dark, which people didn´t like from your experience.

You were always writing something in every free minute you got, even in lunch breaks you stayed inside the class room.

But you liked it that way, you liked being creative, you never thought of it as a negative isolation, rather as not disturbing others.

“What´re you writing?” Tendou has been staring at you for a while now, you just didn´t seem to notice it, you were always so focused on whatever you were writing. It intrigued him, everything about you was vexing to him. You and him have been in the same class ever since the start of the year and yet you never uttered a word to anyone. But you also didn´t seem shy or rude or arrogant, he just couldn´t figure you out. Tendo could read people easily normally, but you were a mystery to him. And you didn´t even give off the attitude of a typical mysterious girl.

You raised your head to meet his eyes, looking at you curiously, he was a weird guy, you had the feeling that he somehow always knew what was going on in people´s minds and that scared you.

His intense gaze scared you and yet his eyes looked rather soft and amused, contradicting the wicked smile he wore.

“Oh...um...nothing special” you answered, subconsciously going into defense. You were used to people making fun of you because of your writing so you didn´t want to say too much.

His grin grew wider, you weren´t used to this much attention so you blushed a bit at his intensity.

“So mysterious!” he rested his chin on his hand, tilting his head slightly, still focused on you.

“Oh, really? I´m sorry” you said, getting embarrassed, this is why you kept to yourself, sometimes you felt like you didn´t know how to talk at all.

You hated it, hated not being able to have a normal conversation with anybody.

But maybe that was why you and Tendou could have one, because you weren´t normal.

“Who said that was a bad thing?” he smirked at you, lowering his voice, his eyes glinting.

Before you could reply anything the lesson started.

It was interesting enough, though you had to admit it was hard to concentrate with Tendo´s eyes piercing you again, it was hard not to notice that, but a little voice in your head still told you that it was nothing, that you just imagined things, that nobody was interested in you in any way.

You only looked back at him when the teacher announced you would be working together for a project.

He gave you a grin again, turning to you.

“So we meet again, mystery girl” he teased you.

You gave him a shy smile, making his eyes go wide.

“Oooh she can smile!” he chuckled.

You crossed your arms, feeling like a little child.

“Of course I can! And I´m no mystery girl, I´m (Y/N). And there´s nothing interesting about me...” you mumbled.

“Girls like you always say that” he remarked, but he knew you weren´t like other girls, his intuition never failed him after all.

“Well, maybe...but that doesn´t change the fact that it´s true. And we should really get started with the project” you said, avoiding his eyes at all cost, they made you feel exposed. Not necessarily in an uncomfortable way, just in an unusual one. It was certainly new to you to be watched this intently.

Tendou obliged and you two worked hard for a while, you were focused on your task until your eyes went wide in embarrassment.

“Oh shit! What´s your name, I totally forgot to ask, I´m so sorry” you rambled, something like could really happen to only you. So much for not knowing how to socialize.

“Tendou Satori, but you can call me Satori” his lips curled into a smirk again, but this time it was softer.

Over the course of the next week you warmed up to him, you managed to relax and collect your thoughts, hell you were so comfortable around him that you started conversations on your own.

And instead of trying to ignore his stare, you now returned it with a smile, which made him happy.

You worked well together and got a good grade for your assignment.

Even after school you stayed in touch, having exchanged phone numbers and texting frequently now. Texting was easier for you since you could control your words that way, you liked yourself better when you wrote or texted, not so much when you talked, not at all when you talked.

Tendou didn´t mind that though, he thought it was one of your many charms, he didn´t make it a secret that he liked you, or so he thought.

It was hard for him to express his feelings that way, he was so used to rejection and dislike that he built walls around himself in that department. He was so confident in his knowledge of people and yet you managed to make him insecure, he just never knew what was going on in your mind and it drove him crazy.

Of course after months of being friends, something that neither of you had had in your entire life, it was easier for him to understand you. But that didn´t mean it got easier for him to understand himself. The two of you shared intimate moments, such as talking about your pasts and you showing him your poetry, he always felt so special in those times, and yet he couldn´t get that nagging feeling out of his gut.

Tendou wasn´t aware that he was even capable of falling in love, but of course you had to prove him wrong.

He first noticed that the feeling wouldn´t go away when you were watching him practice. It wasn´t the first time you accompanied him in the club, after all he too happily obliged when you asked him to teach you about volleyball. But he expected you to focus on Ushijima like all the others, he wouldn´t even blame you if you did.

And you did a certain amount, you could acknowledge his strength but your eyes were always on Tendou. To be honest you knew you had a crush on him for a while now, but decided not to act on it since you thought you were overthinking again.

That feeling didn´t go away however, so instead of telling him, you found your outlet for those feelings in your poetry.

Your eyes were fixed on Tendou as he blocked one ball after another, you were fascinated at how he was able to foresee where the ball would go next, he was always one step ahead of his opponent and you were in awe of that.

“You´re amazing, Satori” you smiled at him excitedly after the training, you went home together.

“Hm...not really, Ushijima´s amazing, he´s the ace after all. I just have good intuition, that´s all” he told you, making you frown.

“Ushijima might be the ace but to me you´re the one that´s the most fun to watch! And...it´s not like you to talk yourself down like that...” you said, you were a bit worried about him lately, he seemed to be in his head a lot.

Tendou gave you a sad smile at that.

“I guess it´s not, but I can´t help but think that they´re right sometimes… that I´m just some weird demon kid that scares everyone away, that I should just stay to myself” you stopped in your tracks, pouting.

“I used to think like that too, but you know what? Yes, you are a weird demon kid, but that´s exactly why I hang out with you, because I´m a weirdo too. And us weirdos gotta stick together, right?” you tried to cheer him up, not one of your strong suits.

“So you´re saying you only hang out with me out of pity? Oh, that´s just great, (Y/N). But if that´s the case then I´d just rather be by myself again” he coldly stated, walking away from you. You didn´t mean it that way, you tried to go after him, explain yourself but your feet wouldn´t move. Why was he angry at you? You didn´t understand. Maybe you pried too much into his life? You went home and texted him that you were sorry. But he didn´t answer.

He also didn´t talk to you in school, he didn´t even look at you. You felt like absolute crap. For the first time in your life you felt utterly alone. And you didn´t like that feeling one bit.

You couldn´t concentrate all day in school, in your lunch break you read over one of your poems about Tendou again.

The strange girl in the back

And the boy who sees through her

Both have something they lack

Found it in each other

His moon and her sun

Mysterious and complex

And yet they resonate

Reading those lines again gave you an idea, you hastily got out a piece of paper and started scribbling down everything that was in your head.

After school, right before training began you managed to catch Ushijima and handed him a note he should give to Tendou saying he should meet him after training.

“Thanks, oh and could you tell him that I´m sorry and that I miss him, please? Wait, not that I miss him… that sounds weird….um, sorry, I´m holding you up!” you rambled and excused yourself.

You were really anxious, so you went to buy a red lily before going back to school. Somehow you doubted that Tendou would show up, he could do so much better than you, he had so many other friends, friends that didn´t fuck things up like you did, friends that could actually formulate what they meant when speaking. And yet there he was, sitting on a bench.

You sat down next to him, he tilted his head to look at you, a big smile plastered on his face, making you raise an eyebrow.

“Ushijima told me that you missed me” he teased you, to which you blushed.

“And honestly, I miss you too. Look, I´m sorry too, I knew you didn´t mean what you said in the way I thought, but a part of me still thinks everyone´s playing with me. But I didn´t want to make things awkward so I just ignored you, which was really stupid and I´m sorry for that” he told you, his head hanging low.

Your hand subconsciously wandered to lay on his shoulder comfortingly, making him raise his head to face your sweet smile.

“You know I suck at talking, so sorry for the misunderstanding. It´s nice to talk to you like that again, I missed this” you admitted, your heart hammering in your chest. Why did you think it was a good idea to confess right now again?

“What´s that?” Tendou pointed to your hand in which you still held the lily.

“Oh, um...that´s for you...” you shyly handed him the flower, earning confusion from him.

You gulped and took a deep breath before speaking the next words.

“Well, um, it´s a red lily and uh...they stand for passion and they….reminded me of you. And um, maybe….to understand it better you should read this. I wrote it for you, I´m better at writing words than actually saying them” you handed him the poem you wrote for him earlier with shaking hands.

Tendou didn´t know what was going on, never would he have imagined you to be so upfront. You really always did manage to surprise him.

You may be a demon

But that only makes me a satanist

The way you read people

Makes me want to be a book

You have my favorite smile

And are so misunderstood

But to me, if that matters

You truly are, everything

“You wrote that for me?” he breathed out, Tendou never felt so touched, nobody ever did such a great thing for him in his entire life and he wanted to cherish this moment forever, he wanted to cherish you forever. Not knowing what else to do, he hugged you.

You nodded, hugging him back with shaking hands. He was so warm, he felt so familiar, like home, his scent instantly calmed you down, you wanted to hold him forever.

“Does that mean you like me too?” he asked, he still wasn´t sure.

Your heart skipped a beat.

“What do you mean ´too´?” you abruptly said, pulling away from him, cheeks flushed.

“Oh shit! Well, um...I mean I kinda like you...no, fuck that, I like you a whole lot, I thought it was obvious” he chuckled awkwardly.

“Well I think my poem made it obvious too, but because you´re an idiot I´ll say it again for you: I like you too, Satori.” you didn´t know where the sudden confidence came from, maybe it was the adrenaline, but now the secret was out. And you didn´t regret it one bit.

[chwrpg]

MAYA DUNNSTOCK. college junior; twenty. anya chalotra. OPEN.

and, as martha dunnstock once said:

“What can I say, I’m a sucker for a happy ending.”

BEFORE THE PARTY;

Some people were born to lead, while others were merely around for someone to compare them to, to simply present a baseline for what made someone average. Those who were cast into a sea of people whose utterly ordinary existence served to prop up the gifted and privileged. At least that was the role Maya had relegated herself to in the Rosewood community. For years it had been hammered in her head that she was nothing but an extra even in the story of her own life. But things hadn’t always been that way. Growing up she was bursting with confidence and a lust for life. She wouldn’t say she was the most popular girl in school but she was much more sociable and willing to let people in.

Sweet little Maya wasn’t prepared for the drastic change in the status quo between elementary to middle school. In just one summer life as she knew it had been flipped on its head. The kids who had run around playing Power Rangers with her at recess had discovered various school sports and stuck with the members of their teams. The girls who had spent weekends at her house for sleepovers wiped their hands of her, looking down on her for reasons out of her control. Puberty hadn’t been so benevolent to her as to make her baby fat disappear and propel her to supermodel proportions overnight, and she didn’t try to cover up her pizza face, as the others liked to tease, with caked on layers of makeup. One of the main culprits being her childhood best friend Olivia Durai. It seemed that simply being kindhearted wasn’t enough to make people like you, or keep you around. Not once everyone became old enough to realize how much reputations meant in a small town such as Rosewood.

Even then Maya did her best to grin and bear how she had quickly become an outcast. She convinced herself that if she tried harder people would take an interest in her again. That train of thought was abruptly halted though, the day her father, a highly regarded detective, threw one of the most influential men in town into jail. While he couldn’t be faulted for simply doing his job, he had inadvertently set off the beginning of a life of hell for Maya. All because he had outsmarted a Chadwell.

That was when Maya went from being an outcast to a social pariah. People had already looked down on her family for being new money, they were practically foaming at the mouth for any excuse to run them out of town-- which her father handed to them on a silver platter when he’d closed the Chadwell case. Thus began her run ins with Tinsley Chadwell and the Heathers, the former of which wanted vindication on behalf of her family. Years of taunting, mind games, getting yogurt and other food “spilled” on her, nasty notes, and public humiliation ensued.

No one invited her to parties, or anywhere, once the Heathers had singled her out, so she knew that the invite she received to this particular party had to have been given out of pity. Still she found herself there for one reason and one reason only, her long time crush Ram Sweeney. In first grade he’d given her the first and only Valentine she’d ever received from anyone who wasn’t her father, and she’d been head over heels since. He’d been so confident, handing out his cards with cheesy one liners to everyone despite the very real threat of cooties. In retrospect it probably didn’t leave as big of an impression on him as it had her, after all everyone had passed out Valentine’s cards to the whole class. Nevertheless, despite the fact that they barely interacted in the years after that moment, the gesture had left the deepest impression on her.

Sure, it wasn’t like Ram himself hadn’t taken part in the cruel taunts and bullying his friends had turned into a sport, but after spending so much time observing him from afar she understood him better than anyone. It didn’t change how she felt about him when he called her Dumptruck with his teammates. He did what he had to do to survive, just like she did.

The party was going to change everything though. Ram had split with Poppy again, so the timing was perfect for her to muster up the courage to spill her guts about her feelings, about how she could forgive him for everything. Catching him with his tongue down Yellow’s throat was the last thing she expected, her heart breaking just a little more at her newest letdown. Dejected, she attempted to mingle if only because she’d never been to a high school party before, only to run right into the mythic bitch herself, the leader of the Heathers. A brief back and forth led to Maya catching a face full of beer straight from Red’s cup, and it wasn’t long until others, people desperate to get in Tinsley’s good graces, followed her example.

Drenched with beer in front of the entire party, the last of her strength was dissolved as she stormed out of the house-- how could people be so cruel? What had she done to deserve her life being turned into a living hell? If they knew how many nights she spent crying herself to sleep or wishing she no longer existed would they even care? Would they have a single regret for the part they’d played? These were the questions going through her head as she drove off in tears. Fortunately her despair didn’t last long. Unfortunately what replaced it was an impact, followed by pain, followed by nothingness.

When she woke, brought out of a medically induced coma two weeks later, it was to news that she’d been in an accident so bad that she would likely never walk again. The irony didn’t slip by her when she heard who had put her in the hospital. Life could be so cruel sometimes.

DURING THE PARTY;

Fresh off the plane from an extended stay in a distant European country with world class surgeons and rehabilitation facilities, Maya wasn’t surprised to hear mutterings of a secret party for recent alumni at her old high school. Not in her honor, of course, because her fifteen minutes of fame had been and gone— though the naive and lonely little girl buried within still found herself praying that someone, anyone, would be glad to see her return.

And that certain others might think they’d seen a ghost.

While Holden had secretly been living with her at the rehabilitation center - allowing her parents to keep working to finance her stubborn, yet futile, determination to walk again - he’d gradually filled her in on everything he knew about the true culprits behind her accident and the ensuing cover up. They would pay, he’d promised her, and while she assumed he meant it in a karmic sense, a darker part of her hoped for more.

The routine humiliation she’d suffered for years had been bad enough, her kind heart always persevering against all odds. The tipping point, however, came when she discovered that Tinsley had slithered her way in during the darkest moments of her life purely to soothe her own guilty conscience. Holden was right, he’d always been right. The Heathers were poison, and they deserved a taste of their own medicine.

Pre-accident Maya would have shunned the Rosewood standard notion of excess and debauchery that came with their parties, preferring to avoid any risk of public humiliation from the Heathers in the safety of her dorm. That Maya was swept under the rug though, replaced with a rebuilt version that both Holden and Tinsley Chadwell herself had helped create. It was incredible what some lessons in style and grooming and the miracle of self confidence could achieve-- the makeover itself part of the farce that had been Red’s friendship after the accident, and the self confidence worked upon over months of recovery with her cousin’s encouragement.

Now, as she wheeled through the halls, people were parting for her like the Red Sea, whispers of her name - her real name - drifting through the air as they looked on in various shades of wonder.

Dumptruck was well and truly dead and gone. In her place sat the girl she’d always wanted to be, the one she’d once envisioned in daydreams about riding off into the sunset with Ram and his sweet dimpled smile. Forged in that fiery crash, spine held together by steel, Maya didn’t owe the Heathers, or the world, a damn thing.

alternate faceclaims and prompts.

[that-thing-that-feeling]

I agree with your breakdown on the Steve-Jonathan dynamic. Your argument pulls from elements in the show and doesn't make assumptions for things not presented. Everyone is entitled their own opinion on these characters, and Steve said some real bullshit to Jonathan in S1, but treating 'good-outcast/bad-popular' as exclusively binary labels in high school is pretty reductive. Even films like Risky Business, Ferris Bueller, Clueless, and Jawbreaker offer different takes on popularity and cliques.

con’t If my refs were oblique: Risky Business has a wealthy suburban teen with connections, friends, social status but no mention of bullying; Ferris is middle-class and popular on an epic scale through charisma alone; Cher is wealthy, popular, and quite classist, but not a bully; in Jawbreaker the queen-bee is the high-school darling, but her two friends are not. School status is not dependent on harassing people. Having looks, money, charisma or hosting parties can be enough and Steve was a Keg King

steve bullies in s1 and the show knows that redemption arc (if rushed) needs to be there based on what we see in s1–i see where the assumption comes from that those can’t just be isolated moments. i think that jonathan is a good person in s1 and steve does some really awful things in s1. i also think jonathan has flaws and f*cks up in s1–like taking the pictures. and i think of the three “Alpha” males on the show, Steve is the most complex one with most questions that you can raise around what exactly has been going on there. 

And that imo is getting lost here. ST seems to present a spectrum of “Alpha” males: There’s Billy (an abusive person who will prob kill someone one day), there’s Tommy (a garden variety school bully). And then there’s Steve (who is charming but who can also be a cocky jerk who is self involved, bullies in s1, and gets a redemption arc). *The show* positions these characters as different and distinct. Steve isn’t Billy. Steve isn’t even Tommy (although that’s where a lot of the debate seems to be). 

A question I have with the argument that Steve must the uber bully of the school–the bigger bully than Tommy, the ring leader of all bullying, and that’s the only way anyone could rise to popularity–is: 1) well, it’s what you’re saying here, there are lots of other reasons he’s popular—rich, big house, best parties, object of crushes. he might have been popular since he was young and coasted on a lot of that and is used to always getting what he wants, and that in and of itself might make him an overinflated jerk in s1. 2) Looking at the actual scenes, I don’t think Steve and Tommy’s relationship is fully ringleader and follower all the time. Whereas with Billy, Tommy knows that Billy could beat him to a pulp, with Steve, I don’t think Tommy has the same twisted “respect” for him in that way, because Tommy knows he can take Steve on physically at any point. Tommy also sometimes leads scenes and actions even if in others he seems to follow. There’s a weird line in the post fight car hood scene, where Tommy says to Steve something like: “run away just like you always do”…which suggests Tommy has long had problems with Steve not being Alpha enough, which is prob one of the reasons Billy is Tommy’s ideal guy. 

Because the show doesn’t address some of these questions fully, imo it’s good to ask and talk about some of these questions. Because there are a lot them: for instance, what were Jonathan and Steve’s interactions in elementary school and middle school? Do they interact in HS or are they at a total distance? Beyond Jonathan, how much has Steve been directly or indirectly involved in bullying people in Hawkins MS and HS before the events of s1? When did Tommy and Steve become friends? When exactly was Jonathan bullied and when did he isolate himself? Also, in HS, just how much gossip was going on about the Byers family behind Jonathan’s back and what did he see/hear of it? It would have been cool if the show managed to give us some more on all of this. 

[ibatronic]

Still Alive...

BEFORE YOU READ!

The following does get really personal, so please read (if you so choose) with an open heart and genuine sense of compassion and sensitivity. It's also many things I've wanted to get off my chest for ages. The following will also explain my mood in the past two journals I made. It does end on a lighter note, I promise.

It's been ages since I've posted anything online, let alone anything here... Remember months ago, when I had posted a journal about the slump I was feeling and then posted an artwork of me… slump drawing? There’s more beyond me simply losing motivation to make more art. And a few of you might have noticed I posted a rather… shocking status update in which I threatened suicide. Following that post, a lot of the unpleasant feelings and thoughts that I believed were gone came back to haunt me. Additionally, many things in my past came back to haunt me, prompting me to go soul searching and try to better myself.

For those not in-the-know, I have been suffering from clinical and manic depression for about the past 6 years. Speaking in real-life timeline, back in the 6 years, I remember that it started with my severe trouble making friends, communicating with others socially, and trying to fit in with others. My depression wasn’t just caused by my low turnout in the friends department, but also because I'd never truly felt loved by anyone… not even myself. As I grew up, I had no friends all throughout middle school and no friends all throughout high school, and then came to terms with the fact that I have no friends at ALL! Things like having no friends really did have an effect on me… I gave friendship and putting myself out there an earnest try, but after the many times I got hurt and betrayed, that was the end of it for me.  People like myself who are alone usually spend their time practicing something they like, in my case being my art, writing, and studying. From other sources and from my own experience, it helps to be noticed for your talents and interest. This pretty much tied into, if you’d notice, why I was actively moping around DA Forums grousing on why my work doesn’t get as much attention as I’d hoped or why those that are recognized do get it. Sometimes, I feel annoyed that noone cares about my work, not even my relatives. My original work. Like, on DeviantArt, I recall fan-art and fan-artists get tons of favorites on their work. While the highest I've ever gotten was 11. I've put hours, days, and sometimes weeks into these and noone cares. And it's mostly criticism that doesn't even make sense. I just want to tell them how hard it is to make the art, but showing people who aren't interested in the hobby will just make them annoyed about it. Everyone is expecting a @$%^ing anime master from every artist and I just don't get it. Some of the time people will make annoying re-colors to get the respect and attention they want, but they do get both of those things in the end. Mostly, how it goes is: A person will make a rather undeveloped character. Then, they will take someone else's artwork and color in their character. Then they will claim it as their own. Then, they will get hate and attention. The person will 'cry' over it and say that they are going to leave that site. People will feel bad for that person, make the person fan art, subscribe to or watch them or whatever, and the person will be filthy-famous and have tons of friends in the end, even though they didn't do jack @$%^! Or they just stoop so low just to get-rich-quick. Argh! I just don't get it any more! I try to hard making quality animation, art, videos, but no one cares what so ever!

I’ve had nobody.  Nobody cared about me.  Going this long without someone besides therapists to confide in, or someone to comfort you or share their likes and dislikes with could really mess you up...

An ordinary day for me back in high school that I rarely overlook, was my recurring plight when it came to being around others. For the majority of my life, I had been nothing but an outcast to people my own age, I never fit in with them since they never truly accepted me as their friend. From what I can remember, each year, I was either on my own or hung out with a group of kids as they talked amongst themselves while I just remained silent. And each year, I make the mistake of even having the tiniest bit of optimism that things just might be different. Having been alone and neglected for a long time, I spent every day seeing what it felt like to be going through what I think are quite possibly the worst years of my adolescent life, with my best and only friend gone (he moved), while I was stuck amongst people whom I felt care very little about me. Now, I’m by myself and with some content. Everyday I would go through the same routine—morning academic classes, lunch break, after classes, dismissal—counting the hours as they go by. For kids that suffered from anxiety or depression, like me, they were sent to the Social Work team where they can vent out their problems and try to uncover any solution or coping mechanism to get by the school year. For me, it might've been a different story because ever since my depression started, I received little check-ins from anyone, not even my own parents, relatives, or any old friends I once had (ones that I talked to in elementary or middle school that won’t talk to me anymore). Most of the time in school, I refused to show any emotion, trying to keep them all bottled up as I go through eight hours by hours while the other students talk amongst themselves and don't pay attention to me.

In life, I find what it is like to be in complete isolation, triggering memories of how I had endured loneliness in my childhood and used to be the timid, awkward, and sullen oddball, knowing that there is noone around to brighten my day, only the sound of other kids talking amongst themselves and having fun much to my envy is all I can hear. On one night as I walked home, I realized that I am really alone, having no idea where my life is going at that rate, or if there is someone out there who really cares about me because not a lot of people have spoken to me for a while ever since I became a high school student years back and regret not getting in much contact with them to see how things were. Plus, my closest relatives, such as my parents and brother are not really much help in my condition. As much as I try to talk to them, I don't get the feeling that they truly understand. The way they respond whenever I attempt to console to them is very dismissive and inconsiderate, further supporting my belief that not even they care about me. In the time I'd wrote this, I swore off telling them any ounce of my problems, as if they would actually care...

Even worse was enduring bullying and abuse from other students that triggered bad memories of what caused me not to be so trusting of others. And, I could not fight back against them all that much, doing nothing other than reacting, glaring, snarking, or giving the occasional finger, which wouldn't last long as I am often overpowered by their popularity, dominance, and miraculous ways of getting reactions out of me. Unless I were lucky to find some kind of way of hitting them. There were some days which ended with me getting sent to the principal’s office in order to acknowledge my mental illness with the staff, not to mention what feelings of trauma I get whenever I’m bullied or harassed by some dastardly kid. Sometimes after the bullying, I would have meltdowns or end up running back to my haven so nobody can see my silent (nonexistent) tears of regret and sorrow, even ignoring whatever pains those bullies left on my heart and body. Sometimes the pain is so intense that I can no longer bottle up my emotions, yet now I refuse to show it in front of others and would rather do it alone in my haven so I can be on to do so freely. The only words I can whisper to myself is “I hate myself…” This is also the case for cyberbullies and predators I've fallen victim of in the past—people have anonymously been mean and hurtful to me, and what's worse is that I REALLY cannot do anything about it besides reporting, especially for pedophiles who have managed to lead me on in the past and take advantage of my open wounds just to get an easy nail... Speaking of bullying, I think it's safe to assume that I'd also sufferred the same at the hands of my own father! In the past, and during my childhood, he would abuse me by striking me every time I screwed something up, even if it was a minor or honest mistake. Being both verbally and physically abusive, I can't exactly say I felt truly safe when around him in hindsight, worrying that one slip-up in front of him could result in another clean bruise on my body. Recently, I recall my father once barging into my room at night while I was asleep and interrogating me about some sort of misunderstanding with his credit card and certain online marketing website. Instead of actually filling me in on what happened or what was going on, he would yell me these questions with no fathomable context whatsoever. Even worse was that initially I was suffering from sleep inertia, so I definitely couldn't quite catch on quickly. Eventually, things led to things, and a heated argument erupted between us, prompting us to get into a shouting match and for me to release all my pent up anger on him, even getting physical and delivering a few blows to him thus further angering him. The incident left me with mixed emotions of confusion, sadness, trauma, and all topped with insomnia since I could not go to sleep for the rest of the night. The things he said to me during all this made assured me that he definitely didn't care about me, and that I was expendable just like all his other abandoned love-children... The feelings, it burns. It is when nobody says happy birthday. It is when family members say they love me yet don't show it. They don't know how to love me, and that is the same as not loving me. It is being alone at lunch. It is being alone and lonely all the time. It is spending hours online finding out how others managed to cope with the stinging feeling I get before I go to bed when my head starts spinning with all the evil truths that nobody cares about me. Sure, some may say they do, but who wants to listen to me talk about my passions? Who wants to help me out? Nobody... Nobody even wants to take time out of their day to spend it with me. It's reading books on how to make friends. It's moping for hours wondering why nobody even likes me, much less loves me. It's changing appearances and attitudes only to be rejected and alone and remain unloved. It's questioning who I am entirely, it's masking who I am and changing who I am and feeling like I'm crazy. It's wishing I could be okay with the fact that nobody loves me but it still feels like a hot hand gripping my throat and a heavy weight on my chest. It's replaying every comment in my head over and over. It's terrible, I can't talk with anyone about it because nobody cares. It hurts, God it hurts!

There was one thing during my time in high school that I could confide in, besides art and drawing…

Back in mid-2015, I remember working hard on a series called “Tails for Hire”; one that parodied the already-parody, Sonic for Hire. With the help of an online ally from Kentucky, I was able to finish it and upload it to YouTube that summer. At the time, my YouTube channel was nothing but cobwebs of old, rather second-rate videos. That was until the first episode of Tails for Hire was released. To my surprise, it garnered over 5,000 views the first week it was uploaded, and I was blown away by the good responses and relatively fair criticism. For the first time, I felt… significant! In retrospect, I realize that what lifted my spirits seeing the comments on my TFH videos was the fact that I had some company. Afterwards, my partner for the video, Tales499 and I talked fairly often, I made another (now former) friend on Skype from Norway, I had so many notifications of comments on the videos. I didn’t feel so alone during all this. I guess I wanted people to talk to and share my feelings with in order to quell my loneliness and compensate for my lack of friendships. I’ll admit, the internet was harsh at times with me, but I learn over the years (and now), that it’s a way of helping you grow thicker skin. This all might explain why I felt the yearning desire for popularity on different social media platforms. Though, I have to admit it does sound rather pathetic for me to console to people behind screens instead of face-to-face.

As some of you who know me from my YouTube channel, you’ll know that Tails for Hire is currently on an undeterminably long hiatus, as of June 2016. Currently, no return date was thought of, but don’t fret, one day… ONE DAY, Tails for Hire will return… At this point the hiatus is more of a hibernation.

Months later, after I finally graduated high school, leaving behind the four years of emotional torture I had endured, I was ready to head to university! Or at least, I thought…

I won’t get too deep into the details of what happened there, but I will say this—everything that I struggled with in my early-to-mid adolescence came to haunt me in university as if I was cursed. No matter how hard I tried to suck it up, I didn’t make any real friends or meaningful relationships in university. When I noticed all the other students at the school, I felt generally inadequate—it reminded me of all things that others are better at and how I'm don't have anything to offer anyone. At the end of December 2018, some of you might recall me making a status update on DeviantArt of me contemplating suicide, and that if I don’t post anything the next year, I might have actually gone with it… Few of you showed your concern… But, while I did appreciate it, I felt that people will only care when it’s too late… I’m sorry if I scared or confused some of you. If I EVER feel suicidal again, I’ll see it that seek immediate help.

Short story—public Safety, many counsellors, my roommates, and one of the deans had come to me saying how worried they were about my well-being after hearing reports of me acting strange and making suicidal remarks. This also ties into the fact that the way I've been feeling has caused me to occasionally miss some of my classes, not be able to focus well, and worst of all... develop some suicidal thoughts... I even explicitly fantasized of jumping off a roof or a window to kill myself! I'm sorry if all this info came up out of nowhere. Eventually, the Dean highly recommended that I be put on medical leave until it is decided that I'm fit to come back to campus. I wasn't too fond of the idea given that I worked so hard in coming to this school and at least tough my way through the first semester. But apparently, it's for the best... When others ask why I would even think to kill myself, the only overarching reason I can give is "I'm worthless!" When people notice that I've been OK for few days or acting normal, it's just that I've been manic. When I look at others, I always think of the things I can't do! I'm an artist who can even get noticed, I'm a guy who has never had many friendships that lasted long, I'm a wimp who can't work up the courage to confront others, I'm a university student on medical leave! All of these things and then some are what trigger thoughts of how my life is a joke! But somehow, during those times when I contemplated suicide, I actually felt free! Almost giddy, and that I could finally kiss this worthless life good-bye!

At the moment, I’m going through professional help and trying to keep myself busy during my downtime. Part of me says there’s no hope me, but part me says one day, I’ll be back to my old, wholesomely manic self again. Step by step… it just might happen.

Lately, I’ve tried to get back into the passions I once enjoyed, get the ideas I’ve had out there as if someone would want to see them. But, I still struggle in finding the motivation thinking of the very disheartening outcomes—low viewership, negative or no feedback, or just not feeling happy with the finished product. I sometimes look at my art and wonder if I can do better or it's good enough. I'm turned between both sides on that case, mainly because I don't have anyone else to share with me their well-thought-out opinions, instead of one-word comments or notifications where someone simply favorites something. Mostly due to my depression, almost everything I do in life seems meaningless. Because that's how depression works! No matter how good I (supposedly) am, I don't remember the good things about myself, I just over exaggerate the terrible stuff about me and it becomes who I am in my mind. No matter what I do, I'm not good enough for myself... But no, my fear of death and it being a one-way ticket are what stop me... I try to figure out what I have to live for and what ideas I have to share. It's really hard, given how I compare myself to others and how much success they've achieved besides me, and the negative thoughts are what cloud my mind no matter how hard I try to clear them. Then there's the days where I feel unimportant or under appreciated, as if I make no difference by staying alive. Some days I feel like I'm on top of the world and that noone can stop me, and other and most days I feel nothing but pain. During those good days, I find myself surrounded by people who seem to care and be interested in me, but soon after the feeling wears off, and I just don't know why! In the time, I've written this, I've been feeling really low, as if noone would even care or bother to read this or be concerned with how I'm feeling. But as I finish and sign off... I kinda feel like a huge weight was lifted off of me. It felt good for me to let it all out, even if it is just typing it out. (Sigh)... If you've made it this far in reading the journal, thank you for reading and hopefully understanding. Once again, I'm sorry if this seemed overly dramatic, self-indulgent or just really heavy. But like I said, this was for me to get some of that heavy weight off me. Throughout half of this year, everything that has happened was really just too much to explain, too much to handle, too traumatically stressing, and generally just heavy... which is why I needed time off... Again, thank you for reading...

[deliadexaerisofficialuniver-blog]

I was reading the Wikipedia article about transgender people and it talks about what it refers to as "early onset dysphoria," and "late onset dysphoria," like, okay... if you experience dysphoria that started later in life, or you came to terms with your identity, or had a change in identity later in life, that's valid, but reading the descriptions in the article, I can't help but feel like they might suffer a bit from a lack of trans input...

The way they read, it acts like trans women who experience dysphoria and feminine identity and gender early in life are all shouting about it and trying to cut our dicks off in the shower/tub, and trying on our mom's clothes and begging for dresses at the age of 3, and like, no..

I have experienced dysphoria as long as I can remember. I didn't ever try to cut my penis off back then, but I was intent on hiding it, wishing it would go away. My parents thought this was weird and tried to encourage me to be "proud" of it. I thought this was weird When I found out my mom didn't have one, I wanted it gone even more. I could no longer rationalize it away as awkward, and weird feeling, but necessary for peeing. When I asked what had happened to hers, my parents said "Girls don't have those." This broke my tiny heart, because according to them, it meant I was a boy, which was the last thing I ever wanted to be. I hated boys. I thought they were gross, mean, and all around horrible. When my parents made me socialize and spend time with little boys my age, I hated it. I wanted to be away from them, back home where I could cloister myself in my room. At the time, I felt like my older half-brother was just the worst. When my older half-sisters got to take time away from their mom to come visit, it was the best. They didn't feel like bullies. They treated me like a little person. 

When I started school, I immediately ingratiated myself with the other girls, and distanced myself socially from boy-world as much as possible. Most of my friends were other girls, and I avoided socializing with the boys like the plague. To me, they seemed gross, mostly dim, and like bullies. There were a few boys in the gifted program with me who seemed different, but they were the exception rather than the rule. Basically, I saw the majority of boys as less like me in every way, and the other girls as more like me, and much more pleasant and safe feeling to be around. It's my understanding that a lot of other girls feel this way too, so I guess this makes sense. And for the record, yeah, I absolutely wished I could've asked my parents for clothes and jewelry like the other girls wore. I was jealous as all get-out. I wanted belly-shirts, jelly shoes, skirts,chunky bracelets and necklaces... I just knew better than to ask...

Going to the Sanrio store at the mall with my sisters when they visited was like a dream. I wanted everything cute and girly in the store, but the only thing that felt gender-neutrally safe enough to ask for was a foam lizard on a walking wire with pink sunglasses. Going shopping anywhere was still torture. I remember vividly, seeing the girls' clothes, feeling this aching inside, wanting to ask for any of it, all of it, for skirts, jelly shoes, bracelets, necklaces, Lisa Frank backpacks... I just knew I couldn't. I knew that if I did ask, I'd be punished, or that at the very least publicly reprimanded and made to feel like there was something wrong with me, because boys didn't get to wear those clothes, or get those accessories, no matter whether I *felt* like a boy or not. All the same, I wanted it all, inside, I *needed* it all. I felt *ANXIETY* inside. I could feel my heart *POUNDING* in my chest, at my silence, *BEGGING* me to break my silence and ask before it was too late and we passed it by to go to the checkout. My whole body felt weak, wibbly, staticy... but I knew better. I just *KNEW* better so I never did. I managed to ask for one notebook with rainbow-space dolphins on it. That was about all I felt safe asking for. I don't remember if it was Lisa Frank or not, but it made me happy.

Anyway, growing up, my parents never really heard me voice my dysphoria, aside from a simple nod of my head when they asked me if I was "ashamed" of my penis in response to the way I always covered it whenever I was naked, and rushed to put on underwear. I remember crying about it once when they basically detained me from my usual rush to cover myself in the fabric, seemingly trying to figure out what was "wrong" with me, why I was so averse to my bottom-half being naked after bathing when they were both naked But aside from that, they got none of the "typical" "signs" that cis people seem to think are somehow just *UNIVERSAL* to a trans youth. I didn't try on *either* of my parents clothes when I was little. To this day, I still don't get that whole concept. I guess maybe I just saw myself as my own person and less like I was destined to grow into a copy of one of them or the other.

Growing up, I didn't really know much about trans people existing, I didn't know there was a word for it. I remember hearing a joke about a "Sex Change" once in some movie or TV show, and because it was treated as a joke, I didn't think it referred to anything *real* I remember watching a Crocodile Dundee movie, I don't remember which one, and seeing a scene which depicted the main character as heroic for sexually assaulting a trans woman in a bar, grabbing her painfully by the testicles until she collapsed... This only reinforced the idea that people with my kind of body weren't allowed to wear dresses. As the movie put it, she wasn't a "real" woman, she was "really a man," and her genitals served as proof, again, reinforcing to 5 year-old me that I wasn't "allowed" to be a girl. I found story-writing, art, video games, and eventually role-playing Dungeons and Dragons with my friends in high-school as my only outlets for the girl I was, who felt trapped inside a cage of a body I hated, not only for feeling wrong, but for denying me my identity.

I was lucky again to be surrounded by other female friends. When I was about to start 4th grade, my parents decided to move, so I changed schools, and when we did, I was forced to socialize with boys and make male friends. Looking back, it makes me wonder if my guidance counselors had said anything about my chosen feminine socialization, essentially if they had "found me out," for almost exclusively making friends and socializing with other girls. I don't know if that was the case or not, but they were intent on pushing me into friendships with the boys in the neighborhood we were moving into. It didn't work though. A girl moved in next door, and she became my closest friend. I guess my parents left me alone about it because they, and all the kids on the bus figured we were dating, and yeah, I thought she was cute, but there was no return interest. We were just friends, and I loved it that way.

We started hanging out playing this game with all my dinosaur toys where we would give them all names and complex personalities and characters and life stories, and basically role-play out their lives as though they were in some soap opera/reality show. I guess it was kind of like the way a lot of girls play with dolls, we just used dinosaur toys. It was kind of my idea at first, but she got really into it with me and we'd play like this basically every day after school until we got more interested in video games. Even then, we still split time with the dinosaur toys, and I don't think we ever really stopped until late in middle school.

Middle school was a weird time for me. I had started to feel like a social reject/outcast in 4th and 5th grade, but Middle School just got worse. I got these bar-framed glasses that didn't really help matters either. The other kids had started bullying me for my feminine mannerisms, the way I walked, talked, cocked my hips out standing and leaning, used my hands when I talked, carried them in front of me, etc. back in fourth grade, but it just got worse in middle school. Everyone assumed I was a gay boy, and they treated me with that violence. Often it was social, sometimes it got physical, until at a point, I'd had enough, and decided to beat the crap out of one of my bullies to say enough was enough. Everyone said I fought like a girl because I attacked with my legs, but I really didn't care. People compared me to a girl all the time, and I guess it was supposed to bother me, but it never did. Nothing in me wanted to be masculine, or saw femininity as a negative.

When I got to high school, I sort of made my own crowd with a few of the other nerds, two guys I'd known in elementary and middle school, with the addition of one of their older brothers I met, and 3 other nerdy girls, two of whom were goth like me, and we formed a D&D group. I was especially close for a time with one of them who rode my bus, and when we were turning 16 (her birthday was the day before mine), she convinced her parents to let us have a slumber party. We went to see Underworld, and came back to her place, where we hung out and listened to goth rock, burned incense, I got to try some of her hemp chapstick, and in the morning she asked if she could put me in some of her clothes and makeup. Hanging out at school, she and a few of my other friends would remark in a non-bullying, more neutral way on how they felt like I was "such a girl," and I'd just reply that I felt like a "Lesbian trapped in a boy's body." It was something I'd heard one of my older half-brothers say jokingly to his friends once, but I meant it sincerely. When she'd finished dressing me, putting me in makeup, and straightening my hair (something my parents wouldn't let me do), she showed me to myself in the mirror, and said "This is how I see you on the inside." I felt a way I had never felt before in my life. Looking at myself in the mirror, I felt beautiful. I didn't hate what I saw and wish I was different. It felt right, I felt at home. I wanted to stay in that dress and that makeup forever. I told her she was right. She started taking pictures though, and I couldn't deal with that. I cried and asked her to delete them, which she did. She was upset by this, and looking back I wish I hadn't, but I was afraid. Her parents caught us and disciplined her, saying it was inappropriate, and acting like they thought that being dressed up this way was why I was upset. The real reason was I was afraid of being bullied at school, punished by my parents, even kicked out of school.

I still didn't know trans people were a thing, anything at all about transitioning. At school I drew myself as a girl when one of my friends had drawn herself as a boy, and called it a "gender-bend." I made no secret to my friend that I wished that girl I drew was me.

When we played D&D, I started with a male character, a halfling druid, but when he suffered an untimely fate, I switched to two new characters, a female halfling rogue named Sarah, and an Elven witch named Delia, and I never went back. Delia had actually been written up, drawn, and played in a solo campaign before the death of my druid, but as time went on, she became my main in preference to Sarah, though they inhabited two separate campaigns, and really became an outlet for self-expression. I was goth, and obsessed with the paranormal, so was she, I wanted to be sensual, so she was a very sensual woman. I enjoyed swordplay, so she was a fencer. I loved dance, and wanted to dance, she was a dancer. If I'd been assigned female at birth, I wanted to grow to be a sex symbol, like Britney Spears, so she was. She was even a part time dabbler in music. Arguably she had more character and personality than any other character I ever played at the table. I loved playing the campaign she was in. When we did, I jumped up from the table. I threw on an accent. I threw on her personality, and walked around and basically played her actions in role-playing situations, and even in combat, when she did something really cool. My gaming group decided she was a "self-insert character" the Player's Handbook 2 for D&D 4E described as a character meant to represent a fantasized and idealized version of the self, and... she was. True, a lot of her is fantasy, I can't step into the Feywild to hop across a battlefield, or summon undead spirits or turn into a wraith, but for all intents and purposes, she was meant to be the woman I would be in a world where all that was real. She even carried my airheaded lack of common sense, my love of reptiles, books, getting drinks and having a good time, she was more of a rule-breaker, a rebel, and an all around "Bad-girl" than I would've ever believed I'd become in life, but eventually I did. My Dungeons and Dragons Group stayed together through college, and that was the place where I was most comfortable showing myself, even in this limited way, but still not knowing trans people existed, or anything about them until college when I got to go to a gay bar.

One of my friends brought me to Emerald City in Pensacola to see a drag show, and told me that she wanted to do drag king performances, and that I should try out drag performance as a place to unleash my "inner woman," or as she put it my inner Tarja Turunen. I always envied @Tarja. I wished and dreamt of a life where I could be a singer for Nightwish or some other similar woman-fronted hardcore fantasy metal project. So I agreed. I was so excited.

We weren't quite ready to perform ourselves, but the next show we went to, my friends asked if I wanted to dress up and I was thrilled. I borrowed some of my gf's clothes, which she was super-excited about (She had a thing for trans girls), did my makeup and we went. We had been talking about what my drag persona's name should be and my friend suggested that I use "Delia," the same name as my D&D character. She said it was obvious that character was basically me, and it was fitting, so that was my name for the night. I had the time of my life. I felt beautiful, I felt sexy, I felt free. It was a crowded show followed by a dance party. Lesbians were hitting on me, I felt like I could dance and move on the floor the way I wanted without being judged... I felt alive.

When we started doing shows, it felt like a night of the week to get out of my skin, and be myself. I wasn't a traditional queen, I didn't do camp makeup, or wear the outfits they wore, sometimes I even wore pants... I dressed goth, the way I wanted. I did my makeup in goth style, other queens called me "fish," said they thought I was "a real girl," when I did my first routines, tried to teach me the "right" way to do things, suggested I do some Cher instead of Nightwish and Within Temptation. I didn't care. I did things my way. I rocked goth metal, and Dresden Dolls pieces as Harley Quinn. I used it as my stage to either be myself and live my fantasy of being a metal vocal goddess, or portray my favorite characters. To myself, I wasn't a queen. I was me.

I remember one night in my early days I felt I was looking particularly bomb, looking in the mirror saying "Hello You," A hello to myself. I felt like a blossoming woman, opening up like a flower to my little Thursday night life. I still didn't really know what trans people were though. There was a bigender AMAB person working at the bar who had gone through some transitioning procedures, but we didn't really ask her about herself. I felt like it was private, and just used she/her pronouns for her, having been taught it was a sign of respect to do so for the other queens, and to expect other people to do so for me.

Eventually when my coworkers at the mall, and their friends working in the food court found out about my performances, they introduced me to a trans woman named "Debbie" who worked in the food court, and explained that she was born assigned male. The way they described her transition was a bit transphobic. "She used to be a man but then she got her penis turned inside out and now she's a woman." It set the stage for creating an fear of genital reconstructive surgery that would plague me for 6 years.

They didn't say anything about hormone replacement therapy or other procedures, and she never brought it up when we met. I felt it was impolite to ask about her business, and just treated her like any other woman. She gave me makeup, said "hi" when I saw her at the mall, but we didn't interact much outside of that. She called herself my "drag mom." I never learned anything about being trans from her, but she was the first trans person I ever met and knew was trans.

As time went on, I met another trans person named Sammy. She was a friend of a friend, they'd met at University, and I found out a little bit more about being trans. She had no plans on surgery, didn't talk about HRT, or anything like that. She gave me some old wigs. I learned about social transition from her, and my friend suggested that maybe a social transition might be right for me. I gave it some thought, started occasionally going out in public presenting as female. The first time was exciting and scary... It wasn't something I continued very much outside of going to night classes at Pensacola State before drag shows. I was afraid people would think I was weird. In addition my girlfriend at the time started expressing a desire to incorporate feminine presentation into our sex life, and it made me incredibly uncomfortable, and drove me away from female presentation. I didn't know what to call it at the time, but it was dysphoria triggering. Dressing up the way she wanted me to for sex, stuffed bra and everything would just remind me of how much I wasn't a "real" girl, and how much I wished I had been born a cis woman. At the time, I spent a lot of time talking to my friend about my feelings, and she suggested transitioning, but I remarked to her that I was sure it wouldn't feel real. Again I still had no knowledge of HRT, complete misconceptions of surgery... I told her that the only way I thought I would ever be happy would be if I could wave a magic wand or kill myself and be reborn as a "real" girl. (I didn't know the word "cis" at the time. I considered the two trans women I knew as women and respected them as such, but I felt like the only way I could be happy was if I'd been born cis. I wouldn't learn the realities of transition and hormones and surgery for another 6 years.

Eventually the drag shows at EC lost popularity though, and eventually stopped altogether. I lost my outlet, and felt like a chapter of my life had closed. Eventually the drag shows at EC lost popularity though, and eventually stopped altogether. I lost my outlet, and felt like a chapter of my life had closed. My girlfriend and I had broken up shortly before the shows stopped, and I started seeing a new person, who eventually came out as non-binary, but identified outwardly as a cis woman at the time.

We had actually first met through my nextdoor neighbor right before high school started. We went to a football game together in high school, flirted a bit here and there, they'd gone off to a career in adult film and dance after graduating and had just come back home. Eventually, when I came out, they were very supportive, but at the time we started dating, they wanted to "man" me up. When they brought me home to her parents, they said "Are you sure that's not a girl," and they set to work altering my wardrobe. They pushed me to be more masculine in behavior, treated my feminine behaviors less like they were part of my femininity, and were instead something I needed to "outgrow." Wanting to please them, I started trying to put on a mask of masculinity, but I never felt like it stuck, never felt like it was anything but a transparent act. Eventually they left me for a super macho marine, and I spent many nights crying myself to sleep. I couldn't figure out what to do. I told them I could be more masculine for them, that I'd do all sorts of things to make myself more manly, beef up, whatever it took, all the while hating the very idea more than anything. I just wanted them back. At the same time, I cried myself to sleep thinking that maybe I should just "get a sex change" as I put it, but bemoaning the idea of walking around, feeling like a freak, with a boob job and a sensationless inside-out penis that looked nothing like a vulva/vagina. I thought I'd still smell "like a man," my boobs would look fake, my "vagina" would just be a sensationless hole, I felt like bottom surgery was just for people who wanted penis-owners to be able to have sex with them. I didn't think my vagina would be "mine." None of this was true, but it was what I'd been taught about trans people, and it left me in despair. In addition, dating them had been such an intense psychological experience for me, specifically with regard to my transness. I saw in them everything that was the woman I wished I was. They were bold, sexy, shameless. They were a dancer. They had this dominating power and presence when they walked in a room. They knew what they wanted in life, and they got it. At the same time, they were a free spirit, they went where their whims and the wind took them. They dreamed big and lived big. I wanted to be them, so much, on every level, I felt like I had begun to just live through them, wishing I was them, and being apart, it was like I had lost my sense of self. Being with them was like I had found myself, living in another person, being away from them, too scared to be the woman I was inside, the woman I wanted to be, the woman I saw personified in them in so many ways, I was broken, and I almost killed myself.

Instead of transitioning, I turned back to dating to see if I could found what I lost in another person, and it began an incredibly unhealthy relationship I eventually married into. While we were together, I wanted her to be me for me, I wanted to mold her into the woman I wished I was. I wanted to live vicariously through her. It's something I'm incredibly ashamed and not at all proud of. While we were together, before we got married, I became re-acquainted with a friend I'd had in elementary school gifted who had come out as a transgender woman and was planning her own transition. Other friends of hers had seen or heard about my drag performances while that was a thing, and referred them to me for tips on clothing and makeup, but I honestly had a lot more to learn from her.

Other friends of hers had seen or heard about my drag performances while that was a thing, and referred them to me for tips on clothing and makeup, but I honestly had a lot more to learn from her. Even though she hadn't started HRT, she was the first person to teach me that hormone replacement therapy was a thing, and direct me to websites where I could learn more about HRT, and vaginoplasty, and even see my first actual photos of actual vaginoplasty results. It was life changing. For years, all that had held me back were fears rooted in ignorance and misinformation spread by a transphobic society. Those results I saw weren't just a penis turned inside-out. That surgery was more than a science, it was an art-form.  got to read up on vaginoplasty and learn that it was carried out with care, and attention to detail, that my parts were the same basic building blocks, built into a different shape, and that my vulva and vagina would feel, look, and function normally. I learned that nerves were preserved and sensation was there, aesthetics were there, that I'd have a clitoral glans, labia, external sensation, internal sensation, muscular control, and even some wetness from hormones. I learned that hormone replacement would help me grow natural breasts, and change the distribution of my facial and body fat, and even change the way my body smelled. I went to my (then) fiancee, and was so excited to share all this news. She'd been respectful of my friend's pronouns and very friendly with them, and I thought she'd be supportive of me too. She wasn't.

She told me she'd "signed up for a man," and to "shove it back in the closet or else." I'll never forget those words. We got married a little over a year later, but a few months in, when I came out as bigender her family got violent and things started falling apart. She grew distant and cold, snappish whenever she came home to find me presenting as female, it was obvious she was displeased and wanted me to know it. I told her there'd be more days like this coming, and before long she wanted a divorce.

The up side is that I was free to explore myself more, and I very quickly fore-went the idea of being bigender, as it just wasn't me. There are tons of valid bigender people, but no part of me wanted to continue living as a man. I came out as a transgender woman shortly thereafter once I had decided that I wanted to transition socially, and medically with HRT and GRS. That started it's own rough road, but just coming out and making the decision to transition gave me such a sense of wholeness. I guess you could say I'd known who I was for a long time, really on some level my whole life, but I'd been ignoring it, running from it, trying to compromise it, and at the age of 26 I finally accepted myself. To my closest friends, it came as no surprise. "About time," "Took you long enough," They were happy for me and supportive. For some people in my life, denial was the chosen route of coping. For some, who hadn't known me on as deep a level, somehow even for my own mother, the easiest route was to deny it, write it off as something I was doing to please the new partner I started seeing after my ex-wife, act like it was out of the blue, couldn't be true. I feel like that's similar to the experiences of a lot of trans women who come out in life, whether they experience "late onset dysphoria," or whether they simply didn't have the knowledge that trans people existed, the words to use, didn't feel safe expressing...

For me, my dysphoria was there as long as I could remember, I knew I didn't want to be a boy, my body felt foreign, especially my penis. Any idea of becoming traditionally "masculine" hit me with a sense of dread. I just imagined that all boys must want to be girls. Maybe I just had early onset dysphoria, and didn't have the knowledge to identify what my feelings were, the words to express it...

I know I didn't feel safe even once I found some level of expression in High School, even before I knew what transitioning was, outside of confiding in my closest friends. When kids bullied me thinking I was a gay boy, I couldn't stand it. When they just called me out for being feminine/girly, I never really cared. I didn't see it as a negative. I saw it as me. I saw nothing to be ashamed of, but for them it was a cause for violence. To a lot of cis people from the outside though, especially people who don't know me as well, I feel like it would be easy to look at how I came out later on in my 20's and mistake me for experiencing "late-onset" dysphoria. Really I don't like the term...

I don't like the term, or the way it's defined, or talked about. I feel like it erases experiences of dysphoria that many trans people have experienced for a lifetime and simply not had the language to express. When the Wikipedia article on transgender people talks about "Late-Onset" dysphoria, it makes note to say that trans women who come out in their adult life may be more likely to associate sexual feelings with presenting in women's clothing... And I feel like that needs to be addressed, because a lot of women's clothing that you find in adult life is *DESIGNED* *SPECIFICALLY* to sexualize women's bodies, and frankly I find nothing wrong with a woman who's trans feeling sexy in sexy clothes.

And I feel like that needs to be addressed, because a lot of women's clothing that you find in adult life is *DESIGNED* *SPECIFICALLY* to sexualize women's bodies, and frankly I find nothing wrong with a woman who's trans feeling sexy in sexy clothes. Plenty of cis women feel sexy in clothing that are designed to look sexy, and I find nothing wrong with either of these things. There's nothing wrong with being confident, or a woman feeling like she can own her sexuality and be sexy.

Women are the only gender who literally have clothing designed and marketed at us specifically FOR SEX. Let me say that again: We literally have entire sections of clothing at the store designed JUST for sex. At the same time, women's clothing in general, especially for young adults is made specifically to evoke sexuality. It accents curves, fits tight in all the "right" places. It shows off assets. It's covered in symbols of sexuality and romance. And this is also the culture young women are brought into. To look at ourselves, and the clothing rack, and ask "How can I make myself sexy?" "How can I make a mate want me?" "What accents my tits? My ass? My legs?" When you grow into that slowly, I feel like it's a bit less of a shock, but when you just get thrown into that world of skinny jeans and push-up bras and plunging necklines, stockings, fishnets, leg-shaving, and adorning accessories, where even the baggy sweatpants are fuzzy and say "Juicy" on the ass... It's pretty easy to see where one can have a bit of a shocking "Damn, I feel sexy like all the time" reaction, especially before HRT, and you know what, there's nothing wrong with that...

It's perfectly acceptable for a woman to feel sexy in her own skin, and if she's wearing clothing she feels confident and sexy in, then fuck, it's even perfectly normal for her to feel arousal with that confidence... The problem is that society is too quick to demonize women's sexuality, discourage us from *owning* feeling sexy, or enjoying it. Unless it serves a man's pleasure, our sexuality is taboo. We are allowed to be sexy as eye candy, but if a woman *feels* sexy, that's too much. If a woman looks in the mirror and feels confident, or aroused, that's too threatening for a patriarchal society to deal with, but it's a perfectly normal female experience. Straight women get it, lesbians get it, cis women get it, trans women get it. "early onset," or "late onset" has nothing to do with it, but if someone is just finally delving into that world of sexy clothes as a young adult, or even an adult, It's an adjustment. On top of that, women who are trans who come out later in life may not necessarily know the taboos. They didn't grow up in a world of sexual repression the same way that other women have, where sexuality is shamed and shackled from the moment of puberty.

Frankly I feel like we shouldn't care. I feel like no woman should care. I feel like we should all feel free to rebel against the taboos and be as sexual on our own terms as we want.

Another bigger problem, however, and where I severely take issue with the way a likely cis author has chosen to talk about this as though it were in any way abnormal is that society *LOVES* to hypersexualize trans people, specifically trans women, and make it *weird.* And I really feel like all of this stems from the fact that cis people *DO* in fact see us as sexually attractive, which is perfectly normal and acceptable, but can't deal with it on the basis of ingrained transphobia, and have to blow it out of proportion.

That's why trans porn is one of the highest ranking search categories, that's why trans women all over the internet have our inboxes *FLOODED* with men sending dick pics and going on and on about how much they want to "worship a girl-cock." That's why even cis women end up thinking it's okay to just sexually harass trans women out the wazoo with "best of both worlds," bullshit. The truth is that cis people, even when they won't admit it, can't get enough of us and the sexual fascination they experience over the idea of a woman with a penis, or a man with a vagina, and from this side, let me tell you, it gets fucking old. The problem is that because of institutionalized transphobia, even though cis people *DO* find trans people sexually attractive, publicly, y'all aren't *ALLOWED* to. It's taboo, it breaks social conventions, it shakes the idea of cisheteronormativity to its core, and like many sexual taboos, this leads to fetishization, whether closeted or open, and hypersexualization of trans people whether we want it or not. So that when y'all choose to talk about us, or write about us, the focus is on anything and everything sexual y'all can find, and often, in order to maintain a transphobic status quo, to try to make it weird. Literally the way the article reads seems to say between the lines: "Trans women who come out later in life sexualize themselves and women's clothing and experience a fetish and that's weird." It seems *INTENTIONALLY* skewed to portray the sudden but normal adjustment to feeling sexy in clothing specifically designed by a society that sexualizes women to accent everything sexy about us that it can as something *BIZZARE* and *SEXUALLY DEVIANT*

It's normal to feel sexy in clothing designed to sexualize your body. All women experience this to some extent. It's just less of a sudden shock when you've had an adjustment period, and not something that's talked about all the time when it's normal. Basically, it seems like it's trying to portray this so called "Late-Onset" Dysphoria as being synonymous with a cross-dressing fetish, and that's just not okay, not at all.

Trans women who feel sexy in clothing designed to evoke a woman's sexuality aren't experiencing a cross-dressing fetish. They are experiencing a normal part of presenting as female in a society that sexualizes women and designs our clothes to evoke that.

The article also notes that so called "Late-Onset" Dysphoria experiencing trans women are more likely to identify as lesbians... OH BOY. Seems like they are legit *TRYING* to feed into the autogynephelia myth here...

First off, PLENTY of trans women experience attraction to other women, regardless of when our dysphoria started, or when we chose to recognize it as such. I have experienced dysphoria my whole life, and yet I also like women, and my experiences are far from abnormal. *MANY* trans women with early onset dysphoria are lesbians or otherwise sapphic. The problem is that our society is homophobic, and literally associates liking men as a trait of femininity, and liking women as a trait of masculinity, which is wrong. Orientation has no bearing on gender, or vice versa.

Because of this, a trans woman who likes men is more likely to be recognized as trans early on by her parents, friends, and family members, because liking men is one of those things that society looks at and says "OH! You like men! That's a WOMAN thing!" And this is a load of homophobic bullshit. Many men like men, many women like women. Not to sound trite, but we're here, we're queer, and trans or cis, we'd appreciate it if you'd hurry the fuck up and finally get fucking used to it. Conversely a trans woman who likes other women won't have her orientation flagged as a "reason" she should be looked at as more female, so it's easier to escape recognition by her family and friends.

Upon coming out, family and friends may even respond with confusion: "Wait, you like women? So why would you 'want' to *BE* one?" again, a load of homopohobic and transphobic bullshit. Cis gay men aren't gay because they want to be women, otherwise they'd be straight trans women. Lesbian women aren't gay because they want to be men, otherwise they'd be straight trans men. These are two totally different things. Trans people are sick of it, cis queer people are sick of it, and it's about time society stopped conflating who you like with what your gender is. Liking women isn't an inherently male trait. Liking men isn't an inherently feminine trait. Who you like isn't gendered.

Anyway, PLENTY of trans women who have known dysphoria and identified as women since an early age, whether internally or externally like women. So do many who come out later in life. Acting like it's some special artifact of "Late-Onset" dysphoria is erasive, transphobic, and when coupled with bullshit making it seem weird that a trans woman who comes out later in life feels sexy in sexy clothes, it's problematic as fuck. It seems hand-tailored to split trans women into two groups: The *REAL* trans women who wear our mommies' clothes and try to chop off our penises and demand dresses when we are 3 years old, and the *fake* sexual deviant "trans women" who come out later in life.

The reality is that *ALL* trans women are valid, some of us are lesbians, bi, or pan, and *ALL* women have a right to feel sexually empowered when we put on an outfit we feel we look bomb AF in. So, yeah. This "Late-Onset" Dysphoria bullshit is exactly that, bullshit. Not saying that some trans women don't start experiencing and recognizing our identities later in life, so not saying that late-onset dysphoria isn't real, some trans women don't experience dysphoria at all, and that's all valid. What I *AM* saying is that the way the Wikipedia article on trans women has been written (probably by a cis "expert") is dubious at best, ignorant, and transphobic at worst, and furthermore that the only people who have any right *AT ALL* to be *TALKING* or *WRITING* about late onset dysphoria are *SHOCK*: Trans people who experienced it and embrace that concept/narrative. You may notice that I put the "expert" in "cis expert" in quotes earlier. This is because there is no such thing as a "cis expert" on trans people. We are the only experts. Every trans person has more experience with transness than any cis person ever could.

We live trans lives, we experience them from day one. *WE* are the experts. *WE* are the ones who should be in charge of our narratives, and *WE* are the ones who should be deciding whether our dysphoria was "Early-Onset" or "Late-Onset," or even experienced at all.

For trans women who experienced dysphoria later on in life, came out later on in life, for those of you for whom it took years  to come to terms with your gender, you need to know you are valid. You're allowed to be who you are and love who you want. There's no time that's too late to know yourself, to come out, to start your transition, and you are allowed to feel sexy in whatever clothing you want, and should be free to do so without cis people acting like it's a fetish. You deserve to know that it's normal to feel sexy in clothes that your body rocks, and that you're no different from any other woman, "early-onset" dysphoric trans women, cis women, or trans women who experience no dysphoria, and just know their identity as women.

For cis people... Seriously, cut this bullshit out and stop acting like trans people are weirdly hypersexual or sexual deviants just because y'all want to hypersexualize us out of your own insecurities with finding us attractive. And stop acting like you know what is and isn't "normal" for trans people, or how we experience and express dysphoria. If anything a lot of what y'all term "Late-Onset" Dysphoria is more likely stories like mine... Stories of trans women who knew dysphoria early, but had no language for it, who knew we weren't boys, but also knew that we weren't allowed to be girls, who knew on account of y'all's transphobia that there were *CONSEQUENCES* to asking for the clothes we wanted... consequences for announcing that we were girls, that we felt like we were girls, that we were uncomfortable in our bodies and wished they were different...

Literally, I'm willing to bet that 90% of the time that a trans person comes out later in life, it's literally cis people's fault for creating an environment of hostility and violence towards trans people who do come out. If any repression comes with that, it's similarly also y'all's fault. If you want to fix it, then change trans-focused media to hire trans actors to depict trans people, and trans writers to write our characters and stories. Change the education system to teach about trans people in schools at an early age so that even if we don't learn at home, or have parents who want to prevent us from knowing ourselves, we can learn that we are valid, and be able to acknowledge that and communicate it early.

Seriously, you don't have to make us sexual. It can be as simple as "Some people who are labeled as boys at birth feel like girls and are really girls. Some people who are labeled as girls at birth feel like boys and are really boys." Very G-rated. and even better, throw in "Some people don't feel like either of those labels fits, and might be nonbinary, or not have a gender at all and be agender." "Some people feel like where they fit changes from time to time and are genderfluid." Actually talk about the word "gender" and what it is and means instead of copping out saying "it's a polite way to say sex," when sex and gender are two separate constructs. Let trans people be the ones who tell *Y'ALL* what our experiences are like instead of trying to guess from the other side of the fence based on what your existing transphobic institutions have spoon fed to you to make us seem "weird" and wrong.

Basically, if you're not trans, and you feel like going and typing on a public resource what you feel like we are and aren't, and how you want to define our narratives that you don't experience, kindly shut up, and let us speak for ourselves. We aren't yours to categorize and define, we categorize and define ourselves. It's kind of the essence of being trans. Thanks for coming to my Ted Talk.

[bright2k17appreciationsociety]

Let’s all take a moment to appreciate Nick’s dialogue and discourse. He’s often awkward (ie “how are your holes?”) and doesn’t pick up on human social cues well (looking under the desk for bad guys). Isn’t always the best with understanding sarcasm, either. Well, here’s an explanation I came up with. Nick’s father and grandfather were both unblooded. In the orc community, Nick was an outcast the moment he was born. So, the next best thing is to try to fit in with humans, right? Except the human kids don’t accept Nick either. The result is clear. Poor, young Nick is alienated from all of his classmates (let’s assume he went to public schools), and never learns the social skills most kids do through elementary, middle, and high school. It’s also a fair guess to say that a “wanna-be-Human” orc would be a huge target for bullying. Naturally Nick would become awkward. And as for not understanding human cues? Cultural barrier, probably. Makes sense, I think.