#been celebraing my acceptance

[no1monstersimp]

14 and 15

WARNING THIS WILL BE VERY RANTY

Sorry this took a bit to answer haha, I was thinking about these ones for a little bit and I wanted to be able to type it out on my laptop because this may be long(and my laptop is slow). This will be a pretty heavy one.

So lets start with 14 -sigh-

TW rac*sm, h*m*phobia, ped*philia, r*pe, inc*st.

I'm sure this isn't unpopular, but my opinion about the fandom is it's pretty bad. Of course I love most of the users on here and have overall been very pleasant to interact with, but the issues are very overwhelming and become more apparent on the Reddit. You can say, it's just the Reddit, but I've seen these issues on Instagram, Twitter, and pretty much everywhere else. Some of the major issues are homophobia, racism, and the very concerning amount of pedophilia jokes/normalization.

So let's start with the homophobia portion.

As I'm sure everyone has experienced sometime in the fandom, there is an overwhelming amount of homophobia within the fandom. Let's take GenoSai for an instant. Whether like the ship or not, there is definitely a double standard among the fandom. Art where the ship is Genoko(Genos genderbend) x Saitama, it is perfectly fine and little heads are turned, but as soon as you mention Genos x Saitama, everyone goes batshit. They like to say it's because "ships don't belong in the fandom" but then turn around and ship Saitama and Tatsumaki or Saitama and Fubuki. They even go as far as to say "making them gay is disrespectful to the character or it ruins them". I'm sorry but if you're that delusional, I don't even know what to say honestly. Certain users got up and arms about the Batarou ship as of late after the reveal of Kiro in 170. Many users were sent unprovoked abhorrent asks or comments all because they ship them. Some have also downplayed the fact that bisexuality exists as well because of this, just stating "Garou isn't gay" or "Garou doesn't like men". There have been some that have written amazing essays on it so I won't go too deep into it here. Another thing is the downplay of LGBT voices in the fandom. They constantly harass LGBT users for having gay ships or other LGBT ships, when all we literally want is representation. It angers me when they say "well you have Puri Prisoner" and I'm sorry, but fuck that. I literally hate the character. They have no right to speak over us and preach what an acceptable character to represent the community is. No right at all...

Anyways... back to double standards, lesbian ships are more accepted because they are fetishizing them. Some of the most popular are Psykos x Fubuki, Fubuki x Do-S, and...ugh...Fubuki x Lily. So they ignore a literal 14 year old and 23 year old and think it's okay but somehow two consenting male adults in a relationship is worse??? Same thing with incestual relationships such as Fubuki x Tatsumaki.

A smaller section is the way they excuse Darkshine. I understand the intention may not have meant to be racist, but at the end of the day we can't keep excusing it. I feel awful when I remember his backstory because he's not a bad character, in the sense that he's a good guy.

Ah the pedophilia jokes and the normalization. I can't tell you how many times I've seen really disgusting jokes about the child characters in sexual situations. The thing is, they aren't even funny. As mentioned before, they already normalize the relationship between a 14 year old and someone she looks up to, who is 23. Well, let's dive into their favorite thing, One Hurricane. There is a volume of this lovely series , I say sarcastically, in which Child Emperor( a 10 year old) is raped by Fubuki (yet again, a 23 year old) and I sadly laid my eyes on a panel. Fubuki is sexually assaulted by Saitama multiple times throughout the series as well as Do-s in one volume. They still celebrate the series as "so good" when it literally excuses rape ad pedophilia. It pisses me off so bad. There are many users who draw or post incest, pedophilia, rape and are celebrated. It's sad I can think of so many off the top of my head, BY NAME.

I have some other things I want to talk about but the post is getting long...

I'll do a briefing of things I don't like about the manga itself. I don't like the way Kama is treated, she's way too beautiful to be presented the way she is. Especially in the webcomic when her name was "Slicing Shemale". I understand that there is apparently some translation issues, but sometimes I wonder.

I already talked about Darkshine and Puri.

[namjoonchronicles]

boxes | nj

↳ pairing namjoon, reader

↳ genre fluff, domestic, established relationship

↳ words 3.3k

↳ summary namjoon’s thriving work and your university never exactly go hand in hand, with the new adjustments made to accomodate the government’s effort to curb the pandemic, namjoon has to deal with your mood swings and all the boxes that came with it

↳ warning suggestive content, mentions of masturbation, stress mismanagement

↳ song dizzy ‘magician’ 

Doorbell. The door swung open to a sullen, barely awake Kim Namjoon. He managed to slide on a grey WTAPS hoodie as he walked to the door in his knee length shorts, rubbing his eyes and squinting at who was at the door.

“Mrs. Kim?” The delivery man asks. “That’s my wife, yes,” Namjoon said in a gritty voice.

He was slowly grasping the fact that he was entertaining a delivery addressed to his roommate and bedmate. The stranger at duty finally hands him a parcel, the size of a small go-kart cart meant for kids; and then shoves him an electronic device that Namjoon was supposed to sign on, where he acknowledges that the parcel had been received. The felt-tip pen doesn’t do justice to Namjoon’s otherwise pretty handwriting, but that’s not the first, and certainly won’t be the last.

And at the corner of Namjoon’s mind, by the time the delivery man left and disappeared to the end of the hall was, who was this from and what could it be?

Just a few hours ago, when the sun was hiding under the horizon, and the stars still decorated the skies, the chirping birds from the floor below had filled Namjoon’s ears as he crawled into bed, laying on his back and finally sighing from the amount of work he forced himself to do. A split second after, your alarm rang. And he frowned. Your arms reveal themselves from the depth of the duvet, snaking over Namjoon’s bare chest, as you brought your face over his nipples lazily to get to your phone that was on the nightstand. He exhaled through his nose and spoke under his breath,

“Your phone’s on the other side.”

Catching a few seconds of snooze before you actually replied, you mumbled,

“I know,” against his supple chest.

A few more minutes of skin contact before you had to start the day, you begged in your head. Your head was underneath Namjoon’s chin and his arm draped over your shoulders. As the mind awakes, you heard him say, “Wake up, or you’ll be late,” while absolutely nothing about his confining arms. His ridiculousness eventually made you smile, first thing in the morning. Had he been sleeping in regular hours, you wouldn’t feel like nagging him. But as you peel yourself from him, unwillingly, you saw his tired face and soft snores, you decided that sleep schedules are a discussion for another day. Rubbing your forehead, you finally fetched your phone on time before it begins to ring again and woke your husband up.

By the looks of it, he really needs the rest. The clock on the phone shows 7.02AM. Yawning, you dragged your feet into the bathroom and like that, your day begins.

It was your birthday. And your husband completely missed it. It hurts, but it was easy to shove every emotional matter aside because you were swamped with work from university. Ever since long distance education began, there were papers after papers after papers that your lecturer had advised to read and report on. Constructing frameworks with related articles, and dissecting what is needed and what wasn’t was not only time consuming, it was draining you emotionally and mentally. Sitting hours on end on the desk at home gave you back pain and earned you some appointments with Namjoon’s physiotherapist as per his insistent requests. There were papers, literally in every corner, on every surface of the house. Namjoon slipped over one. Or two. Once, or twice. Actually, a few times.

It gets mixed with his music arrangements, his lyrics, his online-purchase receipts. It gets stacked on his piano and several on his bookrack. Just, papers.

Birthday? On the most hectic week of your semesters where the final exam is held? And assignments to be submitted? No time. No time for celebration. It is article after article. Citations over citations. Paraphrasing after paraphrasing after some more paraphrasing. Namjoon watched in horror sometimes. Sometimes he just accepted his fate. That his wife, in distress, would place weird things in weird places. Such as, phone in the fridge or the microwave. Car keys in the wardrobe. House keys in shoes -- this one, you insisted that it fell but Namjoon could vouch that he actually saw you put them in the shoes and hung your socks on the key holder. Namjoon also had to text you, while in the house, to eat, and shower or sleep -- all the basic human necessities. And if he is not in the house, he sends pictures of his food to remind you.

Your stress was entirely something else. You were a whole different being. Not to say that you throw tantrums, or that you get fidgety. But you get hazy. The only way to explain it is, sometimes, when Namjoon is speaking to you, you could be looking into his face and watching him talk, and ask him to repeat because you didn’t hear a thing he said. You were just nodding. Like that one time when he was speaking about a certain meteor shower occurring at such and such time and place, you were wondrously staring only to say, “What did you say again? I wasn’t paying attention…I’m sorry.” Namjoon would shut his eyes in agony and fetch the remote to change the channel, refusing to repeat himself. And you would whine in protest because you feel that he felt neglected, and it wasn’t your intention. You were just occupied. By pressing due dates, and pressure to deliver paperwork feasible to your lecturers.

You left the house to have better home-study dynamics. Your Wifi has been on and off and despite Namjoon’s online complaints, no one has been allowed to perform technical aids in homes due to the Corona Virus spread. Aware of this, you took your work to the university where you can focus better. Namjoon wasn’t entirely against it. He was just worried that you wouldn’t eat on time, unsupervised. Namjoon has been actively working from home and you could see his productivity had been slowed down due to lack of environmental stimulation. He didn’t have to say it out loud, but if he does, you’re there to listen. So, it was your birthday. And he was half awake, pushing the parcel into the house, so it sits next to the couch.

And then. Another doorbell. And another. And another. And another.

“Mrs. Kim?” “Yes.”

Doorbell. Signed.

“Is this Mrs. Kim’s resi--” “Correct.”

Doorbell. Signed. Carry parcel.

“.” “That’s my wife?”

Doorbell. Signed. Parcel. Stack. Doorbell. Signed. Parcel. Pushed. Doorbell. Parcel. Signed. Pushed. Stacked. Pushed. Stacked.

Namjoon heaves one box in and lets out a big exhale when his phone begins to ring and he dashes to it, down the hall on the bedside table. His thumb drags the answer button, places his phone on his ear and breathes out, “Honey…”

“Hey, I’ve been calling and calling… I just got a text from several friends that they’re sending some--” “Parcels? Packages? Letters? Yeah, I think I got them…” Namjoon scans around the living room, “All of them.” “I’m so sorry, you must have been so tired, you didn’t even get much sleep. It’s just. My friends, they wanted to send me things for my birthday… is it a lot?”

Namjoon clamps his lips between his teeth, understanding the gravity of the situation. Not only had he forgotten his wife’s birthday, he was being an ass. Muttering fucks under his breath, he leans his forehead on the wall.

“It’s your birthday…shit, I forgot,” he scolds himself through the phone for you. You half-smiled while continuing to type on your computer.

“That’s right,” you hummed teasingly, “What are you going to do…Hmm?”

“I’ll do anything…” he pleaded.

“Anything? I’ll figure it out and let you know alright? I’m gonna be home soon… But I can’t say when… Take care.” “Does that mean today or like--Hello? Did she just hang up on me?” Namjoon stares at his phone screen where it reads ‘Call Ended.’

“Half of the living room is gone,” Namjoon pulled a chair out the dining table looking over the said scene.

You tutted your tongue, already imagining the gravity of the situation. Had it been you at home, Namjoon could have slept soundly. However as you had these assignments to submit and time-pinching articles to read that you have to be here. Namjoon sounded so exhausted. And honestly, you didn’t know how many more were coming since it was a surprise. You got these messages from the delivery company that there was a delivery under your phone number and address so you were notified as Namjoon was being bulleted with endless doorbells. It should end now. You’re not receiving any more messages. Half of you wanted Namjoon to give you a good night as a birthday gift, while the other wants him to suffer a couple of more nights of unattended ‘needs’. And you being you, it almost always falls on the latter.

The door unlocks and Namjoon springs on his feet, dashing to the entrance where you walked in with a couple of thick books in your arm, totally ignoring your lamp post husband holding the door open when you’re trying to close them. He thought he was helping you out so you stare at him to ask him why he is holding it open. He smiled awkwardly and let the door shut while you walked in to place the books stacked on the kitchen counter. Namjoon was hoping that you noticed that the sink is empty and that he washed all the dishes. You didn’t comment on anything but poured yourself a cold glass of water. Namjoon ran his tongue along the length of his lips to keep them from drying up. Eyes restless, body fidgeting at the sight of you gulping down the liquid. He stammers out the question, “H-how was your day?”

And he continues, while you give him your back to wash the mug, “You said you were coming home soon, and you didn’t until like seven hours later… Where did you go?”

“Ah, the lab technicians arranged a birthday celebration for me, you know Yoongi right? So they got me like a cake, I couldn’t save you some…” you smacked your lips together after hanging the glass on the racks to dry. Then you walked past the fridge to open it, poking your head inside while Namjoon chewed the insides of his cheek, looking down to his fiddling fingers. Then he softly said, “For seven hours…?”

You heard him but you spun around and told him flatly, “I’m going to go take a shower, can you heat this up for me?” Passing him a ready made meal, then tip toeing to grab his face to kiss him full on the lips. And deepening it enough to get him moaning, have his arm snaking under your dress shirt but pulling away when he tried to reciprocate the same passion. You smiled slyly as you skipped to your bedroom for him to follow you a bit later, just for him to be door slammed on the bathroom door. And locked. This is where Namjoon picks up the hint that it was a game you decided to play. It’s his punishment. And it began seven hours ago.

After your ready made meal, you were laying next to him in bed reading emails on the tab, rubbing his thigh up and down achingly slowly while he read and grew increasingly uncomfortable with his hardons. He had been reading the same sentences for the past 20 minutes and his philtrum was moist with sweat, he began blinking and shaking his head a couple of times. He said nothing because he knew you were doing this to punish him. Everytime your palm moved further up his thighs, inches away from where he really needs you, you pull away. Ever so accidentally, the back of your knuckle would brush against his clothed hard ons, and he would suppress a moan. He feels sore, itchy, dying to touch himself to the point that he was practically gripping so hard on his book.

Bored with emails, you began to watch a series on Netflix and every now and then, you would let out the gasps that he recognises to be the one you’d make in bed with him. You would also let out moans that would make him dizzy. His knee shakes as his needs go untreated and you asked him, in an angelic tone, “Is everything okay baby?”

He breathes, “No.” The book flew from his hand and he turned to you, begging with everything he has in him for you to, “Please. It hurts.”

You put your tabs away with a sigh, took your glasses off and you thumbed his cheek. Putting your face close enough for him to feel your breath on his skin, you smiled affectionately, “Goodnight baby…” Passing him a box of tissues and reminded him, “Not too loud, okay?”

Defeated, Namjoon almost felt like crying. How long must he deal with this? How long must he want and can’t have? And if you thought his desires died down after he masturbates, you were wrong. Sleeping right next to you like this, you were pushing your butt on his hip while sleeping soundly, making him shiver. All the hair behind his neck stood up as he tried to control his dick once again. He married the she-devil herself. Sweating profusely, he grabs the duvet above you, pressed himself on you, peppering wet kisses on your neck and shoulders and on every inch of skin he had access to, to hopefully persuade you into forever in a moment. He felt you stir awake and calling out his name in your sleepy voice, propelling him further into neediness.

“Please, let me make you feel good, hmm?” he pleaded. He begins grinding achingly slowly on the curve of your butt and makes you whine.You feel his every crevice and desperation that you sleepily giggle then he groggily says with a boyish tone, “I’ll make you feel so good.” He just really needs to hear you say his name in the manner only lovers know. He was going to lose his goddamn mind if you don’t do something to him. He felt so helpless and vulnerable and bare, it aches. He got on top of you, and suddenly everything feels heavier. His knees digging into the mattress next to your hip, the heat coming out from him, his dilated pupils and baritone voice, repeating how sorry he was. It had you gripping sheets and catapulted to another world. When he said he wanted you to feel good, he really meant rocketing you out the universe it seems. He was gentle and sensual about it, and it was your ultimate kryptonite.

The familiar coiling in the pit of your stomach, the rearing la petite mort as the French says, teeth sinking into flesh, rippling release. Namjoon was adamant to deliver. He then switched from being an absolute gentle angel to a beast. In the back of your mind, you knew he was getting back at you for the torture you let him through. He was determined to not let you leave the bed next morning, or the morning after that. That was the ability of a seasoned lover. He knows where to touch, where to bite, where to spend most time on. He knows just how to make you scream and have you yank his hair back like that. The way he delivers his love is like, “How dare you ignore me? How dare you deny me of your love?”

Namjoon stirred awake feeling sore. The duvet pools around his waist, his happy trails showing as he sat up on the middle of the bed, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palm. He saw you curled on your side next to him. Staring at you long enough to watch you switch to your back and displaying the marks he made on you last night. He bit his lips at the sight as the memories returned in delicious flashes. He lays on his stomach and turns his head towards you, smiling like an idiot. He then floats his index finger over your exposed mound, nipples and down the middle of your torso, but there was nothing sexual about it, just sensuality. Consciousness swam tastefully around your head and you blinked several times, before the visions cleared. You caught him grinning.

“G’mornin,” he groggily greeted in his morning voice. “Morning,” you replied just as affectionately.

Then you figured that the boxes outside wouldn’t unpack themselves if you stayed in bed today, so after a quick breakfast, Namjoon was at your service. His job was to collect the boxes and foam sheets that came with fragile gifts. As you gasps and gawks at the items that are sent to you, like the quirky mugs and hand-stitched runners, Namjoon smiles in awe at how creative your friends and families are. There were hand printed t-shirts from your 1 year old nephew finger drawings, old baby pictures of you from your hometown and some signed books from your friend who is an author. They all had little notes that Namjoon would read aloud for you, he even got the tones right from knowing how your friends talk. Your cheeks were hurting from smiling ear-to-ear.

Namjoon watches you from the door sill as you placed the last gift next to his KAWS collection, with a fond smile stuck on his face. Tiptoeing, chin up, hair in a bun--was his wife. Then slowly, your vibrant face faltered. And Namjoon was quick to notice.

“What is it…?” He said, in a defeated tone. You answered with a shoulder shrug. “Another trip around the sun, another year getting older…” You slumped in the hammock next to the window glass. Namjoon joined you by sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall opposing you.

“Sometimes, I just wonder, is this all there is, and even though so, it’s a lot to unpack. Without you, my life would probably be dull, and even with these friends I dearly love, I would have felt very lonely. This year my birthday felt a little special. Although you forgot,” you squeezed your eyes at him, “I was actually happy you didn’t remember. I was sad that I’m no longer what I considered young. The gap just felt a little wider, and things grew over time. I worry about not having more time with my parents, and not contributing enough. I worry about the friends I have that I might no longer have in 3 years time. I worry about you and the things you’ll do and the hurdles you’ll face… I worry about everything that isn’t me.”

Namjoon leans his head back, listening, hugging his knees, hollowing his cheeks.

“I think the question that frequently goes into my mind is, where do we go from here? What’s there to look forward to now that we’re here? And I have to find the answers to these questions. Then I get impatient, anxious of not knowing what the correct answers are…” your voice drifted.

Namjoon scooted over to sit next to your knee like a huge pup, and he turned to face the same view you were looking at. Sunkissed skin, golden rays of the evening, the rainbow cascading from the crystal ball you hung at the corner of the room when the light hits. Everything about the day was tranquil. Then, Namjoon rested his chin on your knee, moved his cheek bone on them, mashing his lips to a pout. And in the comfortable brief silence you stayed, listening to the time tick, and the faint sound of the rustling traffic that Namjoon swiftly say,

“Maybe there aren't any answers.” And if that was true, and it might be true, maybe… there is very little to worry about. Seven trips around the sun with Namjoon. To a whole lot more.

.

.

.

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copyright © 2020 namjoonchronicles do not repost, and thank you for reading

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Japan has recorded 15,777 coronavirus cases and 624 deaths, according to the Johns Hopkins University tracker.

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This Story Behind Demi Lovato Will Haunt You Forever! | Demi Lovato

With anybody blockage at home amidst the coronavirus pandemic, celebs accept been demography time to reconnect with one addition through basic reunions. The accomplished few weeks accept brought the casts of High School Musical and Victorious together, for example, and this weekend, the Sonny With a Chance and So Random! casting associates got calm for an online video chat.

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EPILOGUE: Why did you kill me?

Four Transgender women were killed in the month of June 2014 in the United States.!

I will say it again, FOUR transwomen were killed in one month. Why does this happen? Why do these clashes occur and why does it end in violen!ce and death?!

June is Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Transgender (LGBT) pride and celebrations occur all month in the U.S. and around the world. Parties and parades abound and many of us are rejoicing in our freedom to live out of th!e proverbial closet. !

We all know the Gay and Lesbian fight for Equality has been a long and painful journey and it continues to this day. Just in the last few years there have been great strides in the legal system offering protections in every facet of life including MARRIAGE Equality. June is a month to celebrate the many victories that have occurred over the last century toward true human equality. Celebrate just being truly free. We celebra!te this freedom and hard-fought equality.!

When many of us are celebrating this openness there are people who are angered and actually afraid of our newfound liberty and freedom. The fanatical religious right and the everyday bigot are cajoled into action which sometimes ends in violence. Any other time the bigot rarely sees a gay or transgender person, but in June they are everywhere and celebrating in the streets and that is too much to handle. Maybe "THEY" are forced into a "closet" to stay inside for the entire month and drink their beer in their own garage with their friends. They have to hide their true identity as a prejudiced straight-religious-bigot. This is not easy, but they do it for that month. This type of person I will just for ease of this story re!fer to all of them as “Joe and Jim-Bob.”!

In the LGBT community there are a few groups of people that come into focus and are sometimes at odds with each other. The Gays at odds with the Lesbians who are at odds with the transgender who splinter off into the transwomen and the transmen who are still trying to figure out the Bisexuals. In other words the LGBT community isn’t always such a happy community and banded together as a group as anyone would think. Sometimes these splinters within the LGBT community end in isolation of one or the other; and this isolation can become a vulnerability to individuals or the group. There is infighting and divisions within, but we do agree on one thing, everyone should be treated with respect and equality when it comes to gender, sexual-orientation, age, color, religion, nation of origin or anything. We are all humans and thats that. This is the “LGBT community” as a whole.!

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There are people within the LGBT community who can blend in with society and not draw attention to themselves. This is called stealth and about 80% of the LGBT comity lives in stealth and hiding for most of the year in their job and every day life. For a person to go stealth means they can live anywhere they want and have any job without fear of ridicule for being in the LGBT in the straight world. The people who can go stealth are Gay, Lesbian, Bi-sexual and only a very small amount of transgender people. basically if you are gay or lesbian and wish to be unnoticed and stealth you make some minor adjustments and go about your life. These minor adjustments are called “cover” techniques and many many people use cover every day to survive. It is a shame that we have to cover, but it is still a!fact of live and survival.!

Transgender people have a very difficult time ever going stealth. Cover is expensive for Transgender people and many times does not even work to society standards of beauty. Transmen are born female and transition to male and many times are able to go stealth and hide among the population. Once a transman starts testosterone he grows a beard and become a man for all intense of purposes. On the other hand a transwoman, which is a man who becomes a woman, has a much more difficult time due to many factors most of which are obvious. Society standards for women are based upon fashion magazines which are unattain!able by most women, much less a transwoman. !

Transwomen are left out of the stealth world unless they are very lucky or very rich. Why lucky, some transwomen are born with features and a stature that resemble that of a naturally born woman and they pass as a woman just by wearing makeup and a dress. These are few and far between. Why “rich” is good for a transwoman? The rich transwomen can go out and get facial surgery and other surgery to exactly mimic the women you see in magazines, and sometimes they end up in the magazine or on the cover. The rest of us are not lucky or rich and we continue to look like “men in dresses” to the outside world. We yell out in despair that we are not men in dresses, we live our lives everyday as women and in our hearts we are women. Unfortunately our outside appearance are not matching and we are ridiculed and are forced to hide. Only a few of us dare to live every day as the women we are and we face the delu!ge of hate and prejudice.!

Within the LGBT community you also have Drag queens and other people who are very flamboyant and live very open and happy lives and will never go or even want to be stealth as they enjoy who they are and live within their circle of friends. They don’t give a dang what anyone else thinks. This group however usually live in a very tight community to

themselves and normally don’t venture into the mainstream or “Middle- America” especially mingling with Joe and Jim-Bob.!

The last group of people are the moderate straight people who are not anti-LGBT nor do they support or parade for the LGBT community. They just quietly live their lives in their world. I will clump them all into a family called the “Jones’s” just for this story.!

What I see happening from my perspective in the month of June:!

The Stealth LGBT community flies to another city like San Francisco to celebrate with the entire LGBT community. The drag queens, Bears, leather guys, twinkies and queers who celebrate every weekend go out and buy huge super flamboyant costumes to really get their pride on. The Transmen join the celebrations; the transwomen put on their beset outfits. The transwomen who could never pass and normally only dress as “themselves” in their own home venture out into the celebrations. The Jones family lives in the city and continue on their day to day lives and end up in the middle of the celebration. Joe and Jim- Bob are out at the bar just to see whats going on and maybe get a few beers with their pizza.!

All of these various groups are in San Francisco or a city nearby. We are all drinking and talking and having fun; our guards are lowered and inhibitions are gone. The groups mix up and most of the time it turns out ok. Sometimes we start to feel like we can truly be free and equal and live in a world that accepts us for what we are. ... mostly just “humans” trying to live a happy life. !

A transwoman named Chris, who lives her life very quietly and usually alone because she is 6 foot 2 inches tall with very masculine features is having the time of her life this June. Marriage equality has occurred in a few states. There was a beautiful woman, a transwoman, on the cover of Time Magazine. Transgender people are on talk shows and are being accepted and are “OUT.” The pride celebrations are so wonderful; June is a great month. !

People are really accepting her for who she is and not making comments about her five o’clock shadow or her appearance. She is actually getting compliments on her dress and how “pretty” she is from a lot of people. Even that straight guy said she looked pretty. She really can live as herself, live as a woman. She has heard that woman who was on Time Magazine tell everyone to “BE PROUD OF WHO YOU ARE” and live your life in the open. Maybe she can live free and be herself all year long? Chris knows this is not about sex or fetish or anything else; she just

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wants to be herself and be happy. Chris goes out alone a lot because she hasn’t really met any friends or people she can trust.!

Chris ventures out a few more nights and is accepted so well in all of the gay bars and is having a wonderful time. !

Maybe Chris really is beautiful and can live as a woman just like that lady on Time magazine? Maybe society really did change because the law was changed? Maybe everyone will love us and treat us as equals?!

She keeps going out and building confidence, life is grand. She has a girlfriend that she wants to talk about all of this new found joy in life. The future is so hopeful. She is elated and wants to run home and talk this over. This is the new “real” like that one lady said on the television isn’t it?

That is what the beautiful people keep telling her. 

(In her mind she is asking is it only the beautiful stealth transwomen who are telling her this? ...no, never-mind.... she tells herself that society really has changed and we are all beautiful and we all have happiness and equality NOW.)!

She is overjoyed and wants to live everyday this happy as herself with her girlfriend. She is heading home. Then she runs into Joe and Jim-Bob who are drunk; she smiles at them just being herself and being nice...but they don’t “SEE HER” they only see a dude in a dress who is flaunting some kind of fetish and probably wants sex with them. Why else would she smile at them other than sex? !

They lash out in anger over all of these people running around with rainbows and weird outfits. Joe yells “fag” and Jim-Bob throws a bottle that hits Chris in the head knocking her out cold. !

Joe and Jim Bob attack her and beat her until she stops crying out in pain.!!

She ends up dead next to the dumpster in a dark alley.!