#why do uteruses happen to the wrong people

[lastoneout]

Sorry for the long post but this has been on my mind for a while and I kinda just wanna get it all out, also I am not an authority on this topic nor am trying to be treated as such, this is based on my life and perspective and what I've seen, keep that in mind, but yeah ANYWAY

I still see a lot of people who are tempted to respond to the right's stance on minimum wage by pointing out that no, not all the people working at McDonald's are teenagers who want some walking around money, there are fully grown adult employees trying to support their families and they obviously deserve a living wage, but I can't help but think that's kinda missing the point of what they're really getting at.

They don't actually think there aren't adults working at McDonald's(or poor teenagers who are supporting their family), they know that, they just think if you're working at McDonald's it's because you've done something wrong, and thus you deserve to be punished by society for it(or in the case of the teenagers their parents did something wrong in which case it's justified to punish their whole family, or the teenager did something wrong even bcs see they should be trying to better themselves and if they aren't it means they're making a mistake and deserve to be punished).

People repeat "the cruelty is the point" a lot but I don't think some of us realize exactly how true that is. To the right there is a correct path one's life is supposed to take and any deviation should be punished. When the left says "hey maybe we could fix some of those things that cause people to make mistakes/end up in bad places" the right doesn't listen bcs they don't believe there's anything to fix. Society is working exactly the way it's supposed to, in fact the real problem is that there isn't enough punishment.

To paraphrase an Innuendo Studios video that opened my eyes on this topic if right doesn't care about, say, stopping abortions, not really, they simply want to punish the people who get them. They know their solution won't stop anyone, they know it will just lead to people with uteruses dying or getting sick, but that's fine because good people don't get abortions, good people don't wind up sick or dead, so if you do you must be a bad person, and bad people should be punished.

Ofc they will prove to be hypocrites when they're the ones who need help, justifying why they deserve a safe abortion or whatever bcs they're a good person! They didn't do anything wrong! They're just rectifying a discrepancy! And they don't think of a second that the rest of the people getting abortions are ALSO good people who deserve safe healthcare and happy lives, bcs if there aren't bad people getting punished then how will they know that they're good people??

(It's the same with defending sexual abusers too, those boys are good men who just made a tiny little mistake, or were seduced, or just did what normal men do! We should forgive them bcs they're rich or powerful or white and rich, powerful, white men are good people. Plus, the women...well they made the real mistake by not protecting themselves better. By dressing slutty or going to a bar, and now they're trying to ruin this poor guy's life over their fuck-up? That's the real evil, that's what should actually be punished!)

So if you work at McDonald's as an adult who's trying to support yourself and your family you did something wrong and you should be punished. If you're sick or a victim of sexual violence and need healthcare or an abortion you did something wrong and should be punished. If you come here seeking asylum then you did something wrong and you AND your family should be punished. Things like this don't happen to good people(even though they do), they only happen to bad people, and bad people should be punished.

It's like that Demention 20 clip, about how these people think places like coffee shops should exist BUT it should suck to work there. It sucking is the punishment. The only people working there are ones who've clearly made some sort of mistake, and thus it's correct for them to suffer, because people who make mistakes are bad, and bad people deserve be punished.

Going deeper, to what I think the real root of a lot of this is, it ties back into the fact that the majority of the far right is christian and a lot of christians believe that if they're good and live their lives correctly and pray to god and give the church money good things will happen to them, and the people who are suffering have fallen out of god's favor, and thus are bad people who deserve to be punished. I've been to a lot of churches here in America and trust me, that is EXACTLY what a lot of them preach, basically word for word. Bad things don't happen to good people, so if bad things are happening to you you must have done something wrong, so pray harder, repent, and deal with your punishment until you fall back into god's favor and are thus once again a Good Person.

(That's also why a lot of them will try to convert the people they try to help through charity, bcs they believe if you are christian good things will happen to you. They genuinely think converting people is just as helpful as donating money to a food bank or volunteering at a soup kitchen. Because good things happen to christians, so being one will make your life better...or will at least mean you get to go to heaven when you die and hey, then you won't suffer anymore!)

And ofc you can't point out that a lot of their leaders are fucking hypocrites who don't live by these rules at all and are in fact just asshole capitalists who only care about money and power bcs they pretend to follow the rules and still put those rules into law and that's enough to convince the right to vote for them. It's part of why Trump was right, he could shoot someone in the middle of the street and not lose any votes, bcs his base is convinced he's a Good Person and good people don't do bad things, even when they do.

That's also why horrible laws get passed so easily by them, they just sit there and go "Why are you worried? This will only punish bad people. If you're a good person you won't suffer. And if you're not, well just try to be good, follow our rules, act how we say, then you'll be safe. You have nothing to fear unless you're bad, and you're not bad, are you?" They don't care how cruel they are or how many people suffer because the cruelty and suffering Is The Point.

Idk where I'm going with this anymore or what the solution is but realizing this really made a lot of things about the right Make More Sense and it helps to know that you can't really argue with them by talking about how people are suffering and we should, like, help them, bcs they believe the suffering is correct and justified and the only solution is MORE cruelty and punishment and suffering. They don't care that there are people struggling to pay rent and feed their kids bcs they make less than minimum wage bcs those people shouldn't have a minimum wage job and if they do they made a mistake and should be punished. Unhoused people? Hungry kids who can't afford lunch? Teenagers who need abortions? Families feeing violence and poverty by seeking asylum? Addicts? Victims of abuse? The disabled? They're all bad people who made mistakes and should be punished.

There are only good people and bad people and how will we know who the good ones are if the bad ones aren't suffering and being punished? And the left is crazy bcs they're trying to HELP the bad people. Don't they know the bad people need to be punished? There has to be a clear line between good and bad! Soon they'll make everyone think WE'RE the bad people and that's not true! We're good people, we live our lives the right way, we deserve to be treated as special, to be rewarded, they're trying to take that away from us! Force us to lay down and be treated like bad people, force us to respect the bad people, treat them as equals, treat them like they're better than us, turn our children into bad people, how could they do that?

We have to make sure that the bad people are punished and the good rewarded.

The cruelty IS the point.

[gayowlsntitans]

Since op of the post has me blocked I can't reply in a reblog:

What's a man? And how can trans men even be trans if they're already male? Actually adding onto that, what's the meaning of the word male?

You are wrong about intersex people, they are still either male or female, but with a disorder, they have a medical condition. If an individual has an SRY gene they're male and if they don't then they're female, but once again with a disorder. And sure they may be trans, that doesn't change their sex though.

What's the definition of menstrustion? Also a period is a synonym for menstruation, and it's not a scientific word. So once again what's menstruation?

Trans man is a man assigned female at birth, they arent originally male they transitioned to be a man. The main definition of man is an adult human man. Who grows up as a man, which most trans men do cause they transition earlier, go on hormones early to have a make puberty.

No Im not, considering the definition of Intersex is that "They dont fit into an exclusive male or female autonomy. They are either male, female or other. I didn't say it changed their sex, thats not what determines your gender, that determines your sex, gender is different then sex, gender is how you identify, sex is your reproductive organs. But being intersex is no longer considered a disorder, ad someone with SRY gene can still transition to change their gender, so they'd still be more than just male or female.

Menstration: the process in a woman of discharging blood and other materials from the lining of the uterus at intervals of about one lunar month from puberty until menopause, except during pregnancy.

Menstration and period are still synonyms that mean the same thing.

Trans women can get uteruses, it's been a thing for awhile now.

@luesmainblog made a good comment about menstruation.

just a quick addition: a "period", as we know it, is JUST a collection of symptoms. if a cis women went through all the pain and bloating and craving and such, but didn't bleed, she could ask her gyno what happened and they would tell her that WAS a period. she just didn't have anything to push out at the time. and that itself would be a cause for concern, but only because she usually DOES produce a lining to remove. periods without bleeding happen all the time.

Phantom Periods, not mentioned in the article are a thing, so its possible to still have your period but not bleed, for both Cis and trans women.

[tumblunni]

AAAAARGH I DIE

god, TMI time of the month post again fuck whoever built this nonfunctioning uterus that i never asked for like seriously doctors i’m fuckin trans and i’m not interested in having kids and IT DOESNT WORK AND IT KILLS ME why cant i get it surgery’d out...

okay so this period is EVEN WORSE than usual aaa cos its been like a year since i last failed to predict it its still painful but i can deal with the pain if i start taking my medicine immediately once i start spotting blood, before the pain starts but for the first time in ages i overslept and woke up already in Stage 2 Horror Time with blood all over my damn pants and the Pain Knives in my spinal cord and like GOD seriously i’m so mad cos i’ve been able to manage it for so long even WITH all my fail uterus’s inconsistancies! like sometimes it starts hurting before i even start bleeding, and its never the same amount of days in between cycles. I’ve been going on the 13th for a few months, then the 7th last month, now the 10th?? And this is after like TWO YEARS of having it on the 11th or 12th consistantly, so it always landed on my birthday. I had my first non crampy birthday in ages this october!

gahhhh and just seriously FUCK its so bad i get pain not just in my uterus area but also my digestive system and legs somehow?? like the bottom of my spine gets cramps and then i lose all feeling in my legs and literally cant even walk to the bathroom anymore its like that ‘periods are a mild labour’ factoid but remove the ‘mild’ and i get this symptom more than ANYTHING ELSE! the hip and back pain and the downward pain direction thing is the biggest pain of all the many pains, gahhh its its so embarassing and gross and hard to talk about cos it means Really Bad Connected Symptoms my digestion goes NUTS for a day! i don’t just gush blood but also get super nauseous and like... ‘hey lets evacuate everything you’ve ever eaten for the last two years somehow, and also 50% of your stomach acid’. Only consolation is that its usually more diarhohea than puking, but thats not much of a consolation cos its so much harder to talk about Shit Problems with your doctor, lol. Also makes the back pain even worrrrrrse! And i cant even tell when I’m about to have a diahrhea attack or when its just regular womb pain cos it covers my ENTIRE LOWER BODY SOMEHOW, like a DOUCHE

and just fuck AAAGH the worst part of waking up with the period already started is that it takes like two hours for medicine to get digested and start working, when this thing literally gives me digestion problems. I swear the pills digest way faster if i take them beforehand! so no matter what i’ve gotta sit and endure the screaming pain for that long. like its really so severe it seems like i’ve been stabbed in my spine! but i can’t even take the knife out, there’s no damn way to relieve this pain! like i’m only even able to vent this text post after almost the two hours is up, and its still really hurting so i guess its gonna take even longer today. or i should take extra pills to get over the bigger pain than usual? i even got the caffeine plus pills thatre supposed to digest faster! (plus the general lack of energy from screaming back death, i think i’ll be able to not have the no legs working bit this time)

and just GOD i havent had this so bad since high school when i was still living with my abusive dad and he ‘didnt believe in doctors’ and was like ‘every woman deals with this and they don’t complain’ but like THEY HAVE FUCKING MEDICINE, DAD imagine a very VERY young child dealing with 24 hour full-on false labour symptoms once a damn month, and how suicidal it’d make them feel! my dad would literally walk in on me screaming in a pile of my own puke in a cinema bathroom and just yell at me for ‘causing a scene’, like i somehow was able to fake this?? and why would i even want to?? ‘yeah sure wow i definately showed him, i made myself unable to watch the movie I wanted to see’ Somehow EVERYTHING I did was a conspiracy to make him lose money, in his eyes! Every symptom of me being developmentally challenged was just me faking, and even when i had a non-mental illness with clear proof right in front of him it was still fake. But oh, HE was able to be sick sometimes, yeah! and he got to go to the chiropractor for his back issues but NOOOOO they can’t be genetic and potentially act up on someone who has a lower body related thing that happens every month... fuck I was so happy when i finally managed to get to the doctor and they gave me birth control pills! even if i had to take them every day throughout the entire month and i had to fight against my dad telling me to not take my legally prescribed drugs and instead replace them with his horrible herbal remedies that made me puke and didnt work. I had to lie and pretend i was taking them, flushing one down the toilet everyday! and OH FUCK man i wish i could still take birth control tho. that was way better cos it actually stopped the period entirely, not just making it hurt less. like seriously ive just started my period and i put a pad on for like TWENTY MINUTES and it was soaked through! aspirin and ibuprofen and etc dont stop the excessively heavy bloodbath. But like apparantly the birth control i was on was bad for people over a certain weight threshhold, so when i left my dad and was able to see better doctors more often they changed me to a different one. And also diagnosed my depression and autism and thankfully finally got me some help for that! But then recently when i moved to this new house the pharmacy wasnt able to get a supply of that medicine cos its too far out in the middle of nowhere in a terrible neighbourhood. And i say ‘recently’ but i mean ‘three years ago’. So i’ve just been taking really big amounts of over the counter pain meds and probably wasting over a hundred bucks per year, yikes..

and AAAARGH it still fuckin hurts and its been like three hours now and i think its starting to hurt worse so the meds are wearing off i need to go take the next two and try and keep down a glass of water and a slice of bread without puking GahhHHHHHHHHHHhhh fuck

[flipper-kisses]

Why do you all expect rami to have to speak on every single thing that happens? The man doesn’t have social media for a reason, y’all can’t expect him to rush online when any given controversial thing arises. It doesn’t mean he doesn’t care, and it doesn’t mean he shouldn’t be able to enjoy events without y’all looking down on him for doing so. Genuinely don’t get the hate.

Firstly, no one is hating on Rami. At all. Not having social media is not an excuse to not put out a statement.

We care very much about Rami, his opinions and what he has to say. Women and people with uteruses are being stripped of human rights in this country and I personally want to know where he stands. For me, I want to know this because I want to support people who's beliefs align with mine. This isn't an issue I'm willing to debate. He isn't shy about speaking up for other causes through the IRC. Why not this?

There is no hate. We hold him to a higher standard and there's nothing wrong with that.

[obeyme-kaidii-writes]

Period Comfort

All Brothers x gn!MC

NOTE - obviously this story is about people with uteruses. But it’s still gender neutral because more than just females have them. This is based on my personal experience with my horrible periods. Some people may feel differently and that’s ok too. 👍🏻

Format - Headcanons / Scenarios

Words - 1895

Content warnings - talk of periods, but other than that just lots of fluff and cuddles

Prompt/Inspiration - self-indulgent comfort piece, (aka I’m on my period and feeling grumpy)

Summary - You’re looking forward to your date this weekend with your favorite demon when the unthinkable happens - your period starts. The boys drop by to check on you.

AO3

Scene -

Things had been going so well. The sun (well, the moon) was shining, the birds (crows) were singing (squawking). It was a lovely day in the Devildom. Who cares if you had been a little emotional the past couple of days? You didn’t. You had plans for this weekend with your favorite demon and you were not about to let anything get you down.

That’s when you felt it. It must be my stomach, you thought, so you ignored it. Then you felt it again. Is it a cramp? Nah can’t be a cramp, you argued with yourself.

And then you realized what you were doing - it’s the same thing you do every time your cycle rolls around: you try to convince yourself that your accursed uterus wasn’t deciding to shed it’s lining at the most inconvenient time. And you knew from experience, anytime you had that conversation with yourself that that is exactly what was going on, and only disaster awaited you if you continued to ignore your own intuition.

So you dragged yourself to your bathroom, inserted/applied the period product of choice, and popped a couple ibuprofen as a preventative measure, before crawling into bed. It occurred to you then that you should probably message the other residents of the House of Lamentation to inform them they were not to disturb you for a week or there would be...consequences. But before you could even turn on your DDD, there was a knock on your door and in walked….

Lucifer

You were relieved to see it was Lucifer, you knew he wouldn’t pester you.

He had come to check on you, and remind you of your upcoming date

Was immediately concerned when he saw you glaring out from under your bundle of blankets

He asks if you’re feeling ok, and you explain about your situation

He’s not all that familiar with human anatomy, but this isn’t the first time you basically went into hibernation mode

It occurs to him you’ll probably not be feeling up to your date, so he says you can reschedule when you’re feeling better.

Offers to bring you anything you might need, and promises to keep his brothers away so you can rest

Kisses you on the forehead before leaving, but you pull him back for a real kiss. He smirks at you because he knew that’s how you’d react.

No one else comes to your door for the rest of your cycle (except Lucifer when he brings your meals)

Lucifer had to string Mammon up a few times when he caught him trying to sneak into your room

Mammon

You love your precious idiot to bits, but he’s a little clueless sometimes. Like now when he didn’t immediately realize the death glare you shot him when he came into your room unannounced and started talking to you about your weekend plans

Finally stops to see why you aren’t responding and notices the look you’re giving him from under your blankets. His blood runs cold and he starts to panic internally...did he do something? Did he say something?

You have mercy on the poor boy and call him over, he sits on the bed next to you and holds your free hand while you explain what’s wrong

You tell him that you’ll need to reschedule your date, and he’s a bit disappointed at that, but he reassures you it’s fine

Huge sigh of relief from him when he realizes he didn’t screw anything up. Immediately switches gears to wanting to know what he can do for you.

You let him know you really just want quiet and to sleep, and he asks if he could stay, cue the biggest puppy dog eyes 🥺

You tell him he can, but he has to promise to sit still and not to talk. He swears that he can manage that.

To your great surprise, he does. He distracts himself by browsing Akuzon, and you cuddle up next to him for a nice, cozy nap, with him occasionally pressing kisses to the top of your head

Leviathan

Unlike Mammon, he notices you glaring at him immediately and freezes. He knew he shouldn’t have come. You might have been a couple but of course you wouldn’t want him around all the time, right?

Once you realize it’s Levi, you relax a little and smile at him. He’s still nervous so reach out your hand to him until he comes over.

He stands next to your bed holding your hand while you explain to him what’s going on

He really doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do here. Do you want to be left alone? Should he stay? It’s not contagious is it? You aren’t going to die right?!

You reassure your poor panicking otaku that you aren’t dying, it’s not contagious, and that you really just want to rest.

That’s when he realizes that you probably won’t want to go on the date y’all had planned and he’s really disappointed, he can’t even hide it

You kiss the back of his hand, making him blush, and promise you’ll make it up to him

Feeling a little better, he asks if you want to watch an anime or something with him instead and you agree.

He sits next to you in bed with your head in his lap while you cuddle up to his legs.

He gets so engrossed in the show he doesn’t even notice when you fall asleep until the episode is done. He doesn’t want to wake you, so decides he’s just going to be stuck like that forever and picks out one of his favorites series to binge watch instead.

Satan

He raises an eyebrow at you when he sees the look you’re giving him

He notices the bottle of ibuprofen next to your bed and quickly pieces together what must be going on

He does have a basic understanding of human anatomy, but the nuances like your food cravings and self comfort measures are unknown to him

He catches on pretty fast once you explain it though, he may make a couple odd suggestions that he read about once or twice

You let him know that you won’t be able to go on your date that weekend, and he is only concerned with comforting you

Gives you a sweet kiss to your forehead before asking if you need anything, which he’ll fetch immediately

You ask him if he’ll stay with you, just so you can have him close and of course he agrees. He heads back to his room to grab a couple of books for himself, and one for you too, just in case you feel up to reading.

By the time he returns, you’ve already fallen asleep. He’ll make sure you’re tucked in and comfy, giving you another forehead kiss or two.

Takes a seat in the large lounge chair in your room and quietly reads until it’s time for dinner

Asmodeus

He’s the kinda guy that has been tracking your cycle for you. He just can’t help it.

So when he opens the door, he already has some of your favorite snacks and a heating pad in his arms

You’re really relieved to see him. If there is one thing Asmo knows how to do, it’s pamper you! (Besides his other talents of course)

He makes sure the snacks are within easy reach of your bed, and sets up the heating pad for you so you can cuddle with it when needed

Tells you right away that you don’t need to worry about the date, he’s already had it rescheduled.

Asks you if there is anything he can do for you, and you ask if he can just cuddle with you

He’s happy to agree, and crawls into bed alongside you, with you resting your head on his chest.

If you’re feeling up to it, he’ll even brush and braid/style your hair. But if you don’t feel like being touched he’ll just gently hold you in his arms

While you’re sleeping, he does manage to sneak in a few cute selfies snuggling with you. He’ll send you the best ones...once your period is over and he knows you'll no longer be mad about it 🙃

Beelzebub

He is really confused when he walks in and sees how grumpy you look. It kinda reminds him of how Belphie looks when his naps get interrupted so he doesn’t take it personally.

You smile at him once you realize it’s Beel and not anyone else

He comes and sits on the bed next to you, brushing your hair out of your face so he can get a better look at you

You explain why you aren’t feeling well, and he immediately grows concerned. It takes a lot of convincing to assure him that you’ll be fine in just a few days

Realizes that your date will need to be rescheduled and tells you not to worry about it. He just wants you to feel better soon.

When you mention that you have some favorite foods that you crave during this time of month, he is all too happy to fetch them for you

Like seriously - he gets Beel-sized quantities for you, and you’ll probably get sick of whatever it is by the time your period is over, so be sure to ask him to share otherwise you won’t finish it all in your own

He asks if you feel up to cuddling or if you’d rather be left alone (he really doesn’t want to leave you alone though)

If you agree to cuddles, he’ll wrap you up in his arms, holding you securely. It’ll be so nice and warm and comforting you’ll fall asleep really quickly. He won’t be far behind you either.

Belphegor

Doesn’t hesitate to ask you who peed in your Cheerios

You have to laugh at that, and then explain how you’re feeling and why

He realizes right away you won’t be able to go on your date, but won’t say anything about it unless you bring it up. He doesn’t want you to feel pressured.

He also gets a little nervous at first about your health and safety, so expect to need to explain to him that it’s a normal part of human life

He’s still going to be feeling really protective of you though, and will make sure under no circumstances that his brothers bother you. Beel can come visit because he gives good cuddles, but that’s it.

When you mention that you really just want to sleep, his face lights up. Naps are only his favorite thing in the world to do with you, so he’s happy to be able to comfort you this way

You’ll lay on your side and he’ll spoon you from behind. He’ll even give you his cow pillow to snuggle as he holds you. It smells just like him, which you find very relaxing.

For once, he doesn’t fall asleep until he’s sure you’re asleep. Then he’ll give you plenty of gentle kisses to your neck and shoulders before cuddling up to you and falling asleep himself.

His arms will stay wrapped around you the whole time, making sure you stay warm and comfortable.

[missdrarrydawn]

This blog is why we need post-birth abortion rights for women. Your mother would have made the right choice.

yes wow darling very smart you sound incredibly intelligent for sending this yes yes quite an outstanding achievement you got there, amazingly brave too, yes such courage to go on anon and insult people, wow i applaud your bravery truly

my blog is a HP blog with ocassional diverse content, you're getting mad at a joke post that's probably 4-5 days old by now (i'm not sure about this exactly as i lose track of time easily) that described a real medically documented experience a lot of trans women have been observed to go through as their transition and therapy continues which i said is similar to a period of a cisgender woman because of the very real similarities between the two processes

i very clearly stated twice that they are biologically different but still similar enough to warrant validation

i support trans women and i always have and i always will, they are real women just as much as i am. i also understand, unlike most of you getting mad in the notes of the post, that women are not walking talking uteruses and i do not reduce nor define women by that one thing alone because that would be ridiculous and hurtful, since there is more to being a woman than just having a uterus

i don't really see why everyone is so upset (transphobes gonna transphobe i suppose) that i called a trans woman's cycle period like or a pseudo period, when that is the most accurate term that exists for that process as of right now.

what else would you call hormonal fluctuations of estrogen and progesterone (because guess what? trans women do in fact receive estrogen and progesterone injections as part of feminizing hormone therapy) and other symptoms (abdominal cramping, headaches, acne breakouts, hot flashes, dizziness, mood swings, pain, nausea etc.) happening every 5 weeks and lasting for 6-7 days? that's right, everyone would call that a period, it's just the most accurate way to describe the process.

trans women can not menstruate, they can not bleed because they do not have a uterus (something i very explicitly stated in my post explaining my point but transphobes can't read apparently) but, like I said in my original post, the bleeding is honestly the least important byproduct of a period, or better yet, the entire cycle, because it is just that - a byproduct, a consequence of the uterine lining shedding. it is not the one defining staple of a cycle, a lot of cis women don't menstruate but you don't go around calling them fake so. the bleeding is not the goal of a monthly cycle, it is not the end result your body wants to reach (the end result would ideally be pregnancy), just a consequence of the process, and i argue it is the least important part of it, its nothing more than another symptom, just like the cramps and pain are

do you want to know what your entire argument sounds like? let me demonstrate:

person A comes in with a fever, a sore throat and a runny nose. their doctor tells them they have a cold.

person B comes in with a fever and a sore throat but no runny nose. their doctor tells them they're faking their cold and should stop pretending to have a cold because it is insensitive to people who have real colds since person B hasn't presented every single typical byproduct and symptom having a cold produces unlike person A did

yea? isn't that ridiculous? that's exactly what you sound like

'trans women experience every other symptom of a period i do, on a monthly basis like i do, lasting about a week, like mine do, but they don't experience this one specific symptom that i typically do which is bleeding therefore they're fake'

obviously the cycle of a trans women isn't going to be the same as the cycle of a cis woman, i have not once contested that nor have i equated the two, what i have done however, is defend the fact a lot of trans women do in fact experience their own form of a monthly cycle that actually presents all the symptoms of PMS (if we're going to be super picky about it) and I've stated that there is nothing wrong with a trans woman calling her own cycle a period, even if she does not experience the bleeding.

you all are just incredibly transphobic (i checked out some of the blogs replying and found them to be terfs, ew) and i don't want to cross into your territory any more than i've already ended up doing, and i will not be responding to any of your notes or anon messages anymore because i've moved on from that post and you should too, because it is obvious you will never understand what i'm trying to say and i will never understand the hatred you spew

it is telling though that terfs and transphobes came across my post which was in the 'pro trans' tag, i assume while casually browsing there for people to start fights with? very telling indeed.

i will be a doctor by the end of the year and i do not have time to argue with transphobes online over matters of trans health they know nothing about (my knowledge is far from perfect either because i am not transgender but i have listened to trans people and read about what transitions can be like because i wanted to learn and feel comfortable stating what i have). ive seen y'all constantly talk about indigestion and diarrhea which have absolutely nothing to do with the matter at hand and seen some people bring up endometriosis which also has nothing to do with the matter at hand, no one is talking about disordered periods or other health conditions, we're talking about just the regular period of a healthy person

people have asked me to provide proof i'm attending medical school which i don't think i can provide without giving out my personal information which i am not inclined to do to strangers on the internet and a lot of people didn't believe me but honestly that is not my problem

i know who i am and what i stand for and the thing i said is a true factual experience that many trans women go through as their transition continues and calling that cycle they experience a period hurts no one and only helps trans communities

of course terfs and transphobes don't care about that, which is why i urge everyone to go their separate ways. i do not want your transphobia on my posts and you don't want my activism on yours so if you're itching to comment and get pissy with me or send me anons, kindly don't because i truly couldn't care less about your opinion on matters you know nothing about and don't care to learn about either

coming from one cis woman to another, just scroll past me and any of my posts from now on and i'll do the same for you so that we may never have to interact again in any way shape or form

i'm closing my end of the discourse of the post right here with this and i stand by what i said. i believe you are wrong for invalidating the experiences of trans women and transphobic for wishing ill upon the trans community in general and i do not wish to ever associate with any of you ever again

i have said my peace

goodbye

(if any trans woman or trans person in general wishes to correct anything wrong i stated here please feel free to do so, because i am cisgender and you will of course know more about your transition and experiences than me no matter how much reading i do :)) remember you are valid and loved and pls stay safe <33)

[newlyy]

can I ask you for advice? my sister started using terms like cis and people with uteruses recently, how do I like. explain why that’s BS, I get so heated so quickly I can’t form coherent arguments lol

god, same. how old is your sister? and how deep is she into gender shit? Big discussion below the cut.

I know a lot of people's argument with “cis” is that it means “comfort with your gender role,” but I’ve never thought that was a good argument to make because genderists don’t view it that way. They just view it as “not trans” and when you frame it like that, opposition to “cis” just seems like opposition to a really neutral concept that no one should have a problem with. but I think there are a few arguments that would be harder for them to dismiss:

- pointing out that splitting the category of women into two and then giving half to male people, is just an instance of oppressors appropriating the language of the oppressed. I know a lot of people don’t like to use the race analogy, but you could ask your sister if she would agree that white people have the right to call themselves black and force black people to call themselves “cis.” If she says it’s not the same thing, ask her why. Point out that in both cases, a class of people with privilege is claiming the identities of a class of people without. Don’t let her say that transwomen don’t have privilege. They are male. Whatever other axis they may be oppressed on (race, sexuality, even “trans” status), they retain privilege from being biologically male (if she denies this, or denies the existence of sex, point out centuries of female oppression. ask her the basis for it, if not sex). Should men have the right to claim and redefine womanhood or is this just another assertion of entitlement and power?

- When you refer to someone as cis, you’re imposing your own belief system or worldview on them. Whether genderists realize it or not, arguing the existence of a “gender identity” is equal to arguing the existence of a “soul.” Both are unprovable assertions based on belief. Not everyone believes in a soul. Not everyone believes in an internal gender essence. If she doesn’t believe religious people have the right to force everyone into a believer/heretic dynamic, and to identify themselves according to that dynamic, then she can’t argue the same for the cis/trans dynamic.

- I found THIS POST in my archive that makes a good practical point about “cis” and its implications. When “women” are oppressed and “woman” is a matter of identity, “cis women” could simply choose to opt out of their oppression. Another thing you might want to look at is Callie Burt’s paper on the Equality Act, the section titled “disappearing sexism: cissexism and the cis/trans hierarchy,” where she points out that the shift from a male/female dynamic to a cis/trans dynamic obscures the reality of sexism by conferring privilege onto female people, and therefore paints any female-centric (i.e. feminist) focus as bigoted, cissexist, or transphobic. 

As for “people with uteruses” arguments, I think you can just tell her it’s dehumanizing to refer to women by their body parts. Or maybe ask her what’s wrong with the words woman or man (why not “women and trans men” for female people or “men and transwomen” for male people, if we’re trying to be inclusive? if she says not all women have uteruses, tell her that some women do, so the language is accurate. if she goes further and says that the word “woman” shouldn’t be used when only female people are being referred to, ask her if the reverse applies, and if transwomen shouldn’t be able to use the word “woman” when they’re only referring to themselves. If she says no, she’s telling on herself. point out the inconsistency and ask if what she’s advocating is actually inclusivity or if it’s male dominance and female erasure). 

You could also ask if less than 1% of the population’s discomfort with the correct language for their bodies justifies an entire overhaul, imposed on the other 99% without their consent or input, at high risk of creating confusion. Or maybe point out the women who don’t speak English as a first language, or who are unaware of the names of their body parts, and the burden this language imposes on them. 

I can’t find any examples of this on hand, but I also know there are instances of organizations redefining “woman” but not “man” in their materials (planned parenthood I’ve seen do this, but I can’t find it on their site now). You could ask why she thinks that is, why the word “woman” offends, but not “man.” Or ask her how often she uses/sees others use the words “penis haver” or “sperm producer.” (it’d be really effective if she says the word “man” without thinking while you talk to her, but that’s just me being petty). You could ask why it’s only women being stripped of their words and what, in general, the effect is on an oppressed group of being denied a word to refer to themselves as a class. ”Pregnant people” and “menstruating people” are two distinct types of people with absolutely no overlap; if you’re pregnant, you necessarily aren’t menstruating and vice versa. But they are both female and oppressed for it. Losing the ability to refer to them together as part of a cohesive class (along with cervix havers and vagina havers, all these disconnected groups) erases our ability to name and address female oppression. 

But honestly, I think the best argument that really cuts to the heart of it, is just that it’s dehumanizing. Women aren’t a collection of body parts or biological functions. Animals have uteruses. Animals menstruate. Animals have vaginas. Women, while sharing those female characteristics, are human beings. They just happen to be female, as opposed to male. Referring to us as “uterus havers” or “vagina havers” or “menstruators” or “bleeders” or “people who get pregnant” is to put our bodies first and our personhood second. Its sexist.

As much as it leaves a bad taste in your mouth, you might also consider using genderist language while talking to her, like calling tims transwomen and using she/her pronouns, or at least avoid calling them men. It’s good to remember that it’s a cult mentality and if she pins you as one of the Bad People, she won’t listen to anything you say. But I mean, that’s up to you and your relationship with your sister. I am curious to know your relationship with her, like if she’s younger than you and how close you are. But good luck either way, anon. the best thing you can do is anticipate her counterarguments and be prepared. 

[mypassionfortrash]

Nothing Serious (Parts 7 & 8)

SUMMARY: You and Roger decide to make a go of it and behave ‘like a normal couple’ in the wake of The Sun running a damning exposé on Roger’s love life and his divorce – and your disastrous attempts at dating other people. He also drunkenly makes you an offer you find hard to refuse.

Roger Taylor x Reader; Modern AU; Strictly 18+

💫 CATCH UP HERE! 💫

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NOTES: Thank you so much for all the lovely feedback on this; I honestly didn’t think anyone still gave a shit about my fics anymore, so I’m glad you’re enjoying it. Again, any and all feedback is greatly appreciated!

[Part 7]

The morning after that awful date, you and Roger decided to – in his words – “Make a go of it.”

This meant him sleeping over at your place every other night. According to Roger, this was to avoid rousing suspicions. But actually, Roger just loved being around you.

Your habit of neglecting your dishwashing duties didn’t bother him. And you couldn’t care less that he was more of a morning person than you; you enjoyed lying in bed, listening to him singing Taylor Swift in the shower. His day didn’t start until his bandmates kicked into action, so with time to spare, he always made you breakfast in bed, and packed you lunches to take to work. He insisted. When he learned that you always skipped breakfast, he was dismayed. This became a habit for him, looking after you. Mornings, evenings, everything, ran like clockwork.

Even sex.

That promise Roger made in Ibiza about teaching you a thing or two? That was long gone. Tamed and domesticated,  he loved missionary and whispering sweet nothings in your ear while he pumped you full of baby batter on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays – with double helpings on Saturdays. And neither of you minded. 

What your sex life lacked in kink and depravity, it made up for in a kind of intimacy that you doubted you’d find elsewhere.

So that was love. Finally.

A fortnight on from the Night of Terrible Dates, a sunny Sunday morning, Roger slid out of bed. He fumbled in the dull orange glow, tugging on a pair of jeans and a tattered t-shirt; he didn’t bother to comb his hair. It didn’t matter. He was only going to the end of the street to bring you your Sunday coffee. A proper one. 

Roger gently kissed your forehead and left you in a sweaty heap in bed. 

You shot him a dumb, delirious smile, watching him leave and trying to psyche yourself up for the notion of getting out of bed. You only knew one move in the bedroom, but you sure knew how to tucker yourself out, you huffed to yourself.

You got up, slipping on one of Roger’s t-shirts. Then you padded through to the bathroom. Your makeup from the night before had burrowed into caked lines around your eyes, and your foundation flaked around your nose. Drawing your cheeks up into a measly grin, you assessed the damage. And wondered how Roger put up with seeing your ugly mug in the morning.

You had no idea how he did it.

You got a bit carried away, though, feeling the last of Roger’s seed dribble down your thigh. Staring down at the offending swimmers in disgust, you fumbled for some loo roll to dispose of them once and for all.

Above the flush of the toilet, you heard the door slam. Roger was home. And it made your heart race. Kind of like the way dogs get excited to see their owners when they come home from work. You laughed at the thought. 

“Hey, Roger… Am I a pug or a lab?” you asked, watching as he slipped off his shoes.

“Huh?” he asked, turning around. He looked gormless, peering at you through his glasses with his mouth hanging open.

“I was thinking,” you began, throwing your arms around him, almost sending your coffees flying, “About how excited I get when you come home. I’m like a dog that gets all hyper over seeing its owner.”

“Right?” he asked, wondering where this was going.

“So I was wondering whether I’m a pug or a labrador. What do you think?”

He narrowed his eyes, a goofy smirk spreading over his lips. “I think you’re more of a terrier. Small and yappy.”

“Well, in that case,” you pouted, crossing your arms. “You’re a chihuahua.”

“Very funny. We all know I’m more cat than dog,” he quipped. When he safely managed to remove you from him, avoiding any spills, he made his way into the living room and slapped a newspaper down on the coffee table.

The bold, red stripe at the top made your heartbeat accelerate. “What are you buying that muck for?”

“Brian texted me this morning. Dom’s told them everything. That Charlotte girl’s sold her story. And they have eyewitness accounts of how I forced a crying girl out of the toilets in a French restaurant two weeks ago.”

“Fuck,” you sighed, folding your arms and trying not to laugh.

“What’s so funny?”

“All of it,” you said. “This is just our luck, isn’t it? The girls at work are constantly pestering me for information about you and I don’t even know what to tell them anymore. They know more about us than we know about each other.”

“How are we supposed to be a normal couple if this is going to keep happening?”

And then a lightbulb dinged above your head. Your eyes lit up as you threw yourself on to Roger’s lap. “Why don’t we do that?”

“Do what?” Roger asked, narrowing his eyes.

“Be a normal couple. Keep our noses clean. Do everything normal couples do.”

Roger tucked strands of your hair behind your ear as a smile broke across his face again. “How do you propose we do that?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know. See our friends. And if they talk, they talk. We need to be careful about what we say, though. But it might go well for us.”

Roger nodded, pressing his tongue against the inside of his cheek. “This could definitely work. But if we fuck up, they’ll never stop hounding us.”

“It’ll die down soon, though, won’t it?”

“I wouldn’t be so certain. Remember, I’m going to Montreux at the end of the month. So, you’re on your own if anything goes wrong.”

Feeling defeated, you sighed. That had slipped your mind. He’d be gone for two months. Maybe even more if arguments got the better of his bandmates.

Roger stroked the base of your back. “I’m only thinking about you,” he said, his baby blue eyes turning more and more watery. “I want you to be safe and for no one to bother you. And if anything else got out, how are you going to take it?”

You cupped Roger’s face in your hands. Your noses touched and your bodies pressed together.

“We’re going to need to get your friends on board,” he sighed, twirling strands of your hair around his fingers. 

“Do you want to meet them?” you asked.

“It can’t hurt, can it?”

A week later, you and Roger sat in his Panamera outside your building. It looked so out of place parked on a rammed residential street; it belonged outside a mansion or an opulent Notting Hill townhouse. You were dressed to the nines, poised for Roger to meet all of your coupled off and drowse-inducingly dull friends. He vibrated with nervous energy, but that much you could deduce from how he talked.

“Now tell me again what I’m not supposed to say to Cassie?”

“Don’t crack dead baby jokes in front of her. I, personally love them. But her and whatshisface have been trying for over a year and they’re looking at IVF now, which is going to wipe them out. She’s had like three miscarriages.”

“Got it,” Roger nodded, chewing his lip. “So is there anyone going tonight that’s actually… you know… fun? Do they have a sense of humour?”

You shook your head, loathe to admit that these people were your friends. You collected them back when they were much more adventurous; in high school when the only things that bothered you were which Charlie body spray your mum was going to buy you that week, or how you were going to score a packet of cigs on your lunch break. Now they were all paired off with kids. Some of them dropped out of uni when they met ‘the one.’ Some of them didn’t even make it to uni. “None of them are particularly funny. Their humour got dumped out of their uteruses.”

“Right,” Roger said, starting the car. “This is going to be a long night.”

“I’ve got a bottle of fizz in the fridge for when we get back. Thought we’d need it.”

“I knew there was a reason I kept you around.”

“What? The mild drink problem or the disdain for boring people?”

“Mild? I’ve seen how much you swallow on a school night.”

“Impress my pals and I’ll swallow more than a bottle of prosecco.”

“You mean, you’re actually going to shove the whole bottle down your neck? Now that, I need to see.”

You and Roger sat side by side as your friends grilled you. It felt like you were on trial. They asked him everything. Why he got divorced. Why he was on Tinder. Why you. And then. The question of your thirteen year age gap came up.

It was Grace. The gossip. She leaned over the table, as far as she could, with eyes bulging out of her head. Her stubby fingers gripped her glass of gin and tonic. 

“So, he’s so much older than you,” she guffawed, darting her eyes between you and Roger. “Bet it turns him on.”

Roger’s fingers found their way to your lap, and tangled with your own, locking your hands together. “Actually,” Roger began, glancing at you, “I think she’s lovely. She could be twenty-four or eighty-four and I’d still adore her.” When he finished that sentence, he looked so proud of himself – flushed cheeks and glassy eyes. He gave your hand another squeeze.

But that wasn’t the answer Grace the Gossip was looking for. “Oh, come on! I’ve heard you like shagging younger women.” Then she turned her attention to you, jabbing her finger at you. “And don’t pretend you don’t like him because he’s famous and rich.”

“What are you?” Roger asked, narrowing his eyes. “You’re starting to sound like one of those rats working for the red-tops. Are you?”

“Come on, that’s enough. Both of you,” Jade said, trying to mediate.

“No, I want to hear Grace’s answer, actually,” you piped up. You and Roger exchanged smug looks, while Grace rolled her eyes.

She sighed. “I’m curious. There are plenty of men out there your age. And there are plenty of girls out there Roger’s age. Thirteen years is a lot.”

You sensed Roger slumping in his chair beside you; you felt his disappointment.

“I don’t fucking know, Geraldine–”

“It’s Grace, actually.”

“I don’t give a fuck. We’re both bloody adults and as far as I’m concerned, your mate’s more mature than most people my age.” He looked at you, visibly annoyed. “Are we done here, can we go home?”

“I was thinking the same thing,” you huffed, looking around at your friends. “You should all be ashamed of yourselves, by the way. All of you. You’re all coupled up and you constantly tell me that I should be too. And now I am–”

“It’s not that,” Lily – the mouthpiece – interrupted. “It’s him.”

“And that you met him on Tinder,” Jade added.

You regained your composure, painfully aware that your friends were beyond seeing sense. “And now that I am,” you seethed, “You don’t have it in you to be happy for me.”

“We are,” Cassie, the doormat, cooed.

“Is it because I’m not stupid enough to get myself pregnant within two weeks of meeting someone new?” you asked, glaring at Grace. “Or that I haven’t had to give up my career for a man?” you continued, shooting daggers at Cassie. “Or perhaps it’s because my boyfriend isn’t a fucking deadbeat?” you concluded, directing that remark at Lily and Jade.

Your friends looked at each other in stunned silence.

Lily slapped her hand on her husband’s. “He’s not a deadbeat. I mean he’s quiet, but at least I know when he gets bored, he’s sensible enough not to trade me in for a younger model.”

Cassie was next to refute your claim: “I quit my job by choice. He got a better job and he supports us both. I’m happy.”

James, her husband, nodded.

“Well, if you’d like to keep lying to yourselves, then I’m sorry but I’m out of here. I don’t have the patience for this,” you announced, throwing down you and Roger’s share of the bill, plus a tip. You got to your feet, stretching out your hand which Roger gladly took. “We’re going home.” You cast an eye over the stunned table. “And if any of you want to apologise, remember what you did wrong before you go bashing us. We’re happy. This is the happiest I’ve ever been. And if you were any kind of friends, you’d support that.”

Your friends said nothing as you and Roger stormed out of the restaurant at breakneck speed. But when the pair of you got to the front door, Roger mumbled something, staring straight on ahead.

You didn’t quite catch it, so you leaned in closer to him. “What was that, Roggie?”

“You were amazing,” he repeated with a faint simper on his lips.

You gave his hand another fleeting squeeze, feeling a swell of pride in your chest. “So were you.”

When you were safely inside Roger’s car, you both sank with relief. “That was a nightmare, wasn’t it?” Roger said.

“Yup.”

“Suppose that’ll end up in The Sun?”

You turned in your seat to face him, wearing a serious expression. “Hope not.”

“You never know who to trust,” he warned, speeding off in the direction of home.

He didn’t say much for the rest of the journey back. Choosing to drown out the thought of your horrible evening, he turned his playlist up. The one he made for you. And belted no less than five love songs at you on the journey.

It earned a few cautious laughs from you, too. But the seed of doubt grew in your mind. What if you couldn’t trust your friends anymore?

The pensive silence stuck around like a bad smell well until you arrived home. You stood in the hall with your back to Roger as he shuffled your coat off your body and hung it up.

Then his arms snaked around your waist, his chin propped on your shoulder. “You’ve been awfully quiet, Kitten. Anything I can do to help?” he asked.

You exhaled, turning towards him. Your eyes had gone glassy and your lips curved into a frown. “It’s been a bad night, hasn’t it?” you lamented. 

“It’s not gone that badly,” Roger reasoned.

“Yeah, but what if they hate me now?”

“They can’t possibly hate you.”

“Why?”

“Because… it’s…” Roger paused, shrugging, “Illegal?”

You rolled your eyes and stormed into the kitchen in search of something to take the edge off. “That’s the best you can do?” you asked opening the fridge and plucking out the bottle.

“You know what I mean,” Roger said, trailing behind you. “You’re lovely. And an amazing friend. They should be lucky to have you. And if they can’t see that, then I’m sorry, but they were never your friends to begin with.”

You grimaced, slapping the bottle down on the countertop. A deluge of sadness dropped on to your body like a lead balloon. “I’m twenty-four and I’m back at square one when it comes to friends,” you squeaked, leaning against the counter. The tears weren’t far off; you could feel the warmth burning your eyes. Not wanting Roger to see you in this state again, you bowed your head. Of course, it made the tears fall faster. “This is fucking awful.”

“Hey,” he said in a low, warm voice. “You’ve still got years to meet new people. And makeup with everyone else. You’ve got me. And Freddie was saying the other day, he’d love to meet you. He knows a few characters. You’re only twenty-four. It doesn’t matter.”

But it did.

Roger wrapped his arms around you and leaned his head against your shoulder. “It’s not the end of the world. I’m sure they’ll come round.”

Your whole body shook with grief as Roger held you close. “It feels like it is.”

The following day, you woke up to the sound of the intercom ripping through your empty flat. Your eyes shot open as you turned over, clawing at the empty space in your bed in search of Roger.

You heaved yourself on to your feet and padded through to the door, picking up the receiver. “Hello?” you spat.

“Hello, my love,” a sort of familiar voice beamed. “Is that Roger’s lovely girlfriend there?”

Your stomach sank. Surely Roger wasn’t behind all of this?

“Well, is it?” he pressed.

“Uh, yeah. Come on up.” You smacked the receiver down and sped through to your bedroom, slipping into more modest attire. With any luck, you thought, you might be able to brush your teeth before your guest arrived. But you were wrong.

Three loud knocks boomed into your home as you pulled on one of Roger’s shirts, earning a pained sigh from you.

And then another three while you hurried back to answer the door.

“Alright, alright! Hold your bloody horses,” you hissed. When you flung open the door, you found Freddie standing in the hall. He looked inconspicuous in his leather jacket and ripped up jeans, aside from the bottle of Moët he clutched. “Christ, it’s ten in the morning,” you remarked.

“I know,” he grinned, looking pleased with himself. “Aren’t you going to let me in, dear? This bottle’s getting warm and we can’t have that!”

You shuffled aside, allowing Freddie to barge in. “Make yourself at home,” you hummed, throwing your arm out in the general direction of your humble abode.

Freddie sashayed through to the kitchen like a wrecking ball through your lazy Sunday morning. “Roger says you were very down last night.”

“Oh, did he now,” you shrugged, following him. “Suppose he sent you here to make me feel better, then?”

He threw himself into a chair at your kitchen table. “No,” he began, popping open the champagne. “I’m here to talk to you about planning a party, my dear.” He held up the bottle, silently asking for glasses.

“A party?” You threw open the fridge and pulled out a bottle of orange juice; you couldn’t stomach straight champagne this early in the morning. “What kind of party?”

“Oh, I love mimosas,” he smirked. “Get some glasses and I’ll tell you all about it.”

“Already ahead of you.” You opened the cupboard where all the glasses went to die and pulled out two mismatched flutes. You slid them across the table towards Freddie – along with the orange juice – and he got pouring the drinks.

“Well,” he began, placing your glass in front of you. “I’m sure you know, it’s Roger’s birthday next week?” It was more of a question than an explanation.

You nodded in response.

“Well, I thought it might be a nice idea, as one of Roger’s best friends, and you, as Roger’s very beautiful lady friend, to organise a party for him. It’d be nice to celebrate, and it’d be lovely for you to meet everyone. How does that sound?” Freddie asked with a manic look in his eyes.

You knocked back your mimosa in one swift gulp and sighed. “That doesn’t sound too bad.”

Freddie excitedly clapped his hands together. “Excellent! I was hoping we could have it at my house. I have a few ideas for the cake, too! And invites! Yes, I’ve drawn these up,” Freddie rambled, scooting over towards you and whipping out his phone to show you some crisp, white invites with gold borders and greenery around the edges. “What do you think?”

“They’re beautiful!” you smiled. “I’m not sure they’re very Roger, though.”

A mischievous smirk emerged from beneath his moustache. “What do you mean?”

“Let’s make it filthy.”

[Part 8]

“I don’t see why we can’t stay at home and celebrate with a take away,” Roger grumbled, staring out of the window of the car.

“I  thought it’d be nice to get a bite to eat somewhere nice,” you explained, brushing your fingers against his thigh.

The sweltering July evening seemed never-ending and the sun still hung high, even though the clock approached nine.

It was weather for light linen shirts and cropped jeans and sunglasses, hair that smelled like the beach and tanned skin on display. It suited Roger down to a tee, you thought, as your eyes wandered. He scratched at the undersides of his arms, his sleeves rolled up to the elbows. Then, slipping his hand beneath his shirt collar, he sighed as he rubbed his aching shoulders. “But I love your cooking.”

“Would it stun you to know that I’m sick of cooking?”

Roger’s lips curled into a smile as he shook his head. “But it’s my birthday. It’s as good as steak and blowjob day.”

“Well, you can eat some nice steak tonight and I’ll give you a blowie later. How does that sound?”

“Oh, alright!”

The pair of you went back to absentmindedly staring out the windows, every now and again, reaching across the seat to touch hands. The nerves in your stomach brewed, wondering what he would make of the party you and Freddie planned. 

“Hang on?” Roger said, edging forward in his seat as he peered out the window. “Where are we going again?”

“For dinner, Roggie,” you stated. “Why?”

“Why are we going to Freddie’s?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“You’ve been spending an awful lot of time with Fred recently.”

“And what of it?”

“You’ve been planning something, haven’t you?” Roger asked, his voice streaked with giddiness.

“No!”

“Why are we pulling up in front of Fred’s house then?”

“We’re going to pop in and see him so he can wish you a happy birthday.”

“Oh great!” Roger tutted mockingly. “That’s half the night wasted then. No blowjobs for me.”

“Don’t be like that,” you scolded. You reached into your bag and handed the fare to the driver, then you both stepped out on to the street outside Garden Lodge.

“This better be quick! I’m fucking starving,” Roger warned, rubbing his tummy.

You knew how grumpy he could be when he was in the throes of hunger and you hoped the catering and free booze would be enough to sustain him through the night. But there was one thing you were certain of: Roger loved a good party. “Come on,” you urged, grabbing his hand and tugging him in the direction of the large wooden door that insulated the mansion within. You jabbed your finger against the intercom. “Fred? We’re here!”

Fred’s laughter came over the intercom, and then he finally spoke. “Come in, darlings!”

You and Roger exchanged puzzled looks at how jovial he sounded, but then you shrugged and pushed open the gate.

“SURPRISE!”

The garden was packed with anyone who was anyone in the music business. Producers, musicians, even actors and actresses, and models, too. They had all assembled to celebrate Roger’s birthday. You were certain Roger hadn’t even met half of the guests – most of them looked like Freddie’s circle.

Roger laughed nervously as he took in the sight of the garden, decked out with strings of twinkling gold lights and picnic benches. And then, his face settled into a look of wonder, eyeing the waitresses in knee high boots and leather bikinis, doling out canapés. One tall and stony looking blonde thrust flutes of champagne into your hands, and a friendlier flame-haired floozy moseyed up to you and Roger, popping tiny cherry pies into your mouths. “Good?” she purred, relishing how flustered Roger became.

Roger mumbled enthusiastically, catching crumbs that tumbled from his mouth. He had turned a delightful shade of pink as he took in his surroundings. He shuffled up the garden path towards a pair of oversized inflatable legs, spread eagled. Between them, in lieu of the female anatomy, was the door to Freddie’s house. Roger marvelled at them, open mouthed.

From the crowd, ever the perfect hostess, Freddie emerged with a cake. You and him had spent days in bakeries all over London, sampling their wares. But you had finally decided on one. Two glorious mounds of chocolate cake, moulded into an ample bosom, complete with a set of erect, rosebud nipples. The number 38 blazed away beside it. The throng surrounding Roger erupted into a bout of ‘happy birthday.’

Roger looked at you, bewildered and wondering what part you played in this, but you nodded towards his cake.

Roger was always the life and soul of the party, and it didn’t take him long to bust a few moves that you feared might seriously injure him. After all, 38 was two years shy of forty. And that would be really old.

You admired him from one of the picnic benches, as you drained another glass of champagne. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves and you felt completely at home and relaxed on the sidelines. Until Freddie burst into view, dragging none other than Elton John with him.

“My dear, there’s someone I need you to meet!” he beamed, throwing a rather drunk Elton down opposite you. “This is Elton!”

Elton waved and nodded, giving you a quiet, “Hi.”

“Elton, this is Roger’s girlfriend, isn’t she a peach?”

“She’s lovely, yeah!”

“I’m going to leave you two to get acquainted,” Freddie cooed, wandering off to pester someone else.

Unsure of what to say to Elton, you searched your brain for something, anything, to make inroads into a conversation with him. “So,” you began, dragging out that vowel. “How do you know Fred?”

“Me and Fred go way back! All the way to the nineties, would you believe? Back when I was practically bald. You probably don’t remember that, though,” he slurred. “How old are you again?”

“Twenty-four,” you mumbled.

Elton’s eyes bulged. “I knew Roger liked them young, but you’re half his bloody age! I heard you met on Tinder, too? Bold move on Roger’s part!”

“Yeah, he was telling me about some of the experiences he’d had before he met me,” you laughed. “Must’ve been desperate. Hence why he set the bar this low.”

“Oh not at all,” Elton said, flapping his hands. “It’s  nice to see him with a girl who doesn’t look like she’s in it for the money. God knows, that’s all Roger’s got going for him.”

You shook your head. “I don’t know about that.” You glanced over at Freddie and Roger, who were huddled in a corner of the garden, blathering away at each other like a pair of gossiping old biddies. You loved the way Roger laughed with his entire body when Freddie presumably told him a dirty joke and the way Freddie’s eyes bulged when he embellished his stories with theatrical action. “He’s kind and does everything he can to drag me out of my shell. And he doesn’t seem to mind that my friends hate him or that the world feels like we shouldn’t be together. He’s always so positive. I love that.”

“So you’re smitten, then?” Elton said, leaning in. “And you’re serious?”

Your cheeks burned as an awkward smile cracked over your features. “I think so,” you said, nodding with youthful enthusiasm.

“Well, you’re absolutely lovely,” Elton said, grabbing your hands and speaking to you with the wisdom of an old babushka. “I hope this works. Because you clearly make each other happy. And don’t let anyone or anything, take that away from you. Fred and I know what it’s like, having everyone out to get you.”

On the other side of the garden, Roger was busy gushing to Freddie about his party. He had already sunk a bottle of champagne all to himself, and, having loosened up, he was prepared to tell anyone who would listen how glad he was to be spending his thirty-eighth birthday, surrounded ‘by people he cared about.’

“This is so different from last year,” he smiled, looking out at the partygoers. “And it’s the first birthday in a while that I’ve actually been happy. Remember how Dom and I used argue at these things?” He turned to Freddie, looking bleary eyed. “I  love her, Fred. I fucking love her.”

“I know you do,” Freddie said, linking his arm around his friend’s shoulder. “This was all her idea, you know? The legs and everything. I think she knows you better than I do!”

He shook his head, wearing a cute, dumb expression. “I think she gets me. And to think she thought she wouldn’t be enough for me.”

“Nonsense!” Freddie exclaimed, slapping Roger’s arm in a ‘fuck off’ kind of way. “Why ever would that beautiful thing think that?!”

“She was nervous because she’d never really seriously dated anyone before. And then I went and told her how many women I’d slept with. And she got cold feet.”

“Did you tell her how many men you’ve shagged too?”

“Fuck off,” Roger said bashfully. “I mean it, though. I could definitely see myself really making a go of it with her.”

“She loves you very much,” Freddie explained, bolstering his friend. “She told me you make her a nice breakfast every day before she goes to work and that you have her lunch packed for her. Sounds like you bloody well do everything for her. Spoilt little thing.”

“I just worry about her,” Roger admitted, crossing his arms. “Sometimes, when you look at someone, do you ever  see that tiny flicker of sadness there in their eyes? And then you promise yourself, you’ll never allow it to really get a grip on them? Because I see that all the time. I want to look after her. I never ever felt that way about Dominique.”

Freddie glanced at his best friend. “You did all those years ago. I remember you used to make any excuse to see her. Hell, you even sprawled yourself across her desk in Richard’s office one Monday morning, a big fucking rose between your teeth.”

“But this is different.”

“How?”

“I thought I wanted sex and filth and something to take my mind off the whole bloody thing. All that excitement you get when you first meet someone and you fall for them. But I don’t. I don’t have that with her,” he slurred, gluing his eyes to you and only you.

“What do you have? A sore arse? I bet she’s good with a strap.”

“No.” Roger glared at Freddie. “I have this overwhelming need to protect her, like she’s the most precious thing I’ve ever had in my life.”

“Does she know that?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well you should tell her before you go to Montreux.”

Roger’s eyes widened. “Fuck. That’s soon, isn’t it? Why – has she told you anything?”

Freddie shrugged. “It’s not really my place to say.”

“But she did tell you something…”

“Yes and no.”

“What is it then?”

“I think she’s worried it might be a bit too soon for you to be apart.”

“And she told you that, did she?” he asked with a pout. 

“Not in so many words. But yes.”

“Do you think I should invite her out?” he asked, turning his head to look at Freddie again. “To Montreux?”

Freddie’s eyes widened as soon as he heard Roger’s plan. “That’s a bloody wonderful idea! I’m planning on bringing my new man, Jim out with me. He could probably do with the company when I’m holed up in the studio with you.”

“You think so?” Roger asked, patting his hand on Freddie’s shoulder.

“I think you should go and ask her now!”

Roger stood up straight and puffed out his chest like a great, brave emperor penguin, ready to journey across a continent. “I think I will!”

“Go get her, tiger!” Freddie called, sending all eyes at the party on to Roger as he staggered up the garden.

You were still deep in conversation with Elton, but silence fell as Roger approached.

“Does he look drunk to you?” Elton asked.

“He looks fucking wasted.”

Roger wore that dreamy look in his eye that could make you do anything, even if he was three sheets to the wind. When he arrived at the table, he almost fell over as he leaned forward to plant a sloppy kiss on your cheek.

“Hello, birthday boy!” you cooed. “I see you’re having a good night!”

“Elton, my man!” Roger exclaimed making finger guns at him. “I’m gonna need some alone time with my woman. Can I steal her away?” he slurred.

“Excuse me?” you blinked. “Your woman?”

Roger flung himself down beside you and put his arm around you. “Sorry. What I meant to say is, I’d like some alone time with this absolutely delectable creature, where I shall seek to woo her with my potent, sexual allure,” he elaborated, dragging his palm down his exposed torso.

You gave Roger a glare that told him he was done for, and, not wanting to attract further attention, took his hand. You led him up between the pair of giant inflatable legs, through the vagina, and into Freddie’s kitchen. Much to your annoyance, there was a crowd of kitchen dwellers dotted around the room, so you continued your journey, further into Freddie’s not-so-humble abode. “Come on,” you said, pulling Roger up the spiral staircase in the hall. “There’s bound to be a room up here for us.”

“Oh, we’re going upstairs,” he purred, giving his eyebrows a knowing wiggle. “I know what that means.”

You continued to lead him by the hand through the tastefully decorated hallway, until you reached what Freddie liked to call the ‘Pink Room.’ You and Roger entered and stood in silence in the middle of the room, gawking at each other.

Roger obviously found the situation hilarious as he searched for something to focus on to take his mind off the fit of giggles that simmered away under his dishevelled exterior. His shoulders bobbed every now and again when a small laugh escaped.

“What’s so funny, Roggie?”

“It’s nothing, sorry.”

You crossed your arms and tilted your head, gauging how drunk your boyfriend was. “It’s something.”

“No, I’m thinking about how we’re gonna shag in Fred’s house.”

“We’re not going to shag in Freddie’s house, Roggie. At least not until you’ve sobered up and told me what you wanted to tell me in the garden.”

Roger’s mouth formed an ‘o’ shape as soon as he remembered why he wanted to get you alone. Then he nodded. He shuffled his feet as he looked at the floor to pluck the words out of his champagne-addled brain. “Fred and I were talking,” he began.

“Uh huh?” you urged him on, crossing your arms. 

“And we were talking…” He continued, his eyes rolling up in his head as he still wore that boyish, naughty expression.

“You were talking and…”

“Well, all the other guys are bringing their girlfriends, and Freddie’s got his new boyfriend and I was wondering, if…”

Unable to contain your annoyance for Roger’s penchant for trailing off mid sentence, you erupted: “For goodness sake, Roger, spit it out!”

Roger puffed out his cheeks at your sudden outburst and exhaled. “Do you want to come to Montreux with us?”

Roger’s proposal came as such a shock to you that you had to stumble around to find a place to sit. Eventually, you found a dusty pink chaise longue that overlooked the garden and flopped on top of it. “Jesus,” you muttered.

Roger dropped to his knees and shuffled over to you, pouting and silently attempting to convince you that this was a good idea for both of you.

“How long do you want me out there for?”

“However long you’d like. Montreux’s really beautiful. We could maybe even stay there?” Roger begged, clasping your hand in his. Shimmering gold flecks from the lights in the garden danced in his tired eyes. “I’d love it if you came with me.”

“It’s a big ask,” you sighed, leaning your forehead against his. “I’ve got work to think about. I can’t just quit. I don’t want to be like my friends.”

“I’ll look after you, though. And you’ve got all of us. We’re a family.”

“I don’t know, Roger,” you admitted. “I think I’m gonna need some time to think about this. I can’t get up and leave. It’s not that easy.”

Roger’s entire body deflated right in front of you, his disappointment palpable as he slouched. “Take as long as you need, Kitten,” he said. His tone became measured and calm now; the sparkle and optimism had disappeared. “Even if you’re able to come out  for a day or two, it’d be better than nothing. I’m gonna miss looking after you when I’m out there.”

“I’ll let you know how I feel in the morning. More importantly, how are you feeling?”

“I’m a bit drunk,” Roger spluttered. “But I’ve enjoyed myself.”

“You’ve had a good birthday?”

He nodded with enthusiasm. “Best birthday in years. And I’ve got you to thank for that,” he said, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “You make me so fucking happy.”

The pair of you scrambled to your feet, your arms enveloping his body. Your head rested against his chest, so close you could hear his heart racing and his lungs slowly sucking in air as you danced together in the window of the Pink Room, and gazed down at the party below. “I love you, Roggie,” you whispered, burying your nose against his shirt to inhale his scent. 

“I love you too, Kitten.”

“How about we head home? Hm?” you asked looking up at him.

He swept the hair out of your face with a contented, heavy lidded smile. “That’s a fantastic idea,” he whispered, kissing your forehead. “I’ll even bring you a nice breakfast in bed to thank you for this in the morning.”

“I’m going to hold you to that.”

The following morning, you felt the bed dip beside you and the soft, warm sound of Roger’s voice. Bliss. Turning on to your back, you stretched letting all the tensed muscles in your body unfurl and your bones crack back into place with a groan. “Morning, Roggie,” you purred with your eyes still closed.

“Morning, Kitten,” he said. 

You could see the smile behind his words inside your mind. And you could also smell bacon. Your eyes flicked open to find him wafting a bacon roll right under your nose.

“Knew that would wake you up in no time,” he grinned, pulling the duvet over both of your bodies. “I’ve made you some tea, too.”

You grabbed the cup from Roger’s hands and took a swig like it was the holy grail. Your mouth was so dry from all the alcohol the night before that you almost finished the cup in one big gulp. “Thank you,” you sighed, sitting the cup down on your nightstand. Then you went back to the most important meal of the day.

Roger took small bites of his own, in between stroking your hair and admiring you in the golden rays cracking through the blinds. “Did you sleep well, Kitten?” he asked.

You gave a contented groan. “Like a log – how about you?” you asked, curling yourself against his body. “Hungover?”

“No,” he mused, “I feel good.”

“You look tired.”

“I am a bit, but that’s nothing a little siesta can’t fix,” he sighed.

But there was something off. You could tell Roger was holding something back; his body was tense and he had a habit of moving his lips to start a sentence with no sound coming from them when he was too apprehensive about asking you something. Then you remembered his proposition from the night before.

“About last night–” you both began in unison.

“You first,” he said, sounding uncharacteristically coy.

“No, no… you asked the question.”

Roger sucked his lips together, and stayed silent for a moment. Then the lightbulb pinged above his head. “I know I asked you to come over to Montreux, but I don’t want you to feel any pressure to go. You’ve got a life here. You can’t abandon that. I was a bit drunk and over excited.”

“It’s fine,” you said, shaking your head. “I  need to see how many holidays I can realistically take off work this summer.”

Roger nodded. “Ok. I’m not going to pester you about it,  have a think. It might do you the world of good to go out there.”

You gave a haughty laugh, still feeling raw from the invasion of your privacy back in Ibiza. “What like it did when we spent that weekend at the villa?” you asked.

Roger’s features fell. “I’m trying to do what’s best for us. Montreux’s not like Ibiza at all. Fuck, no one even knows where Montreux is. No one pesters us there. Not even Freddie.” He sounded hurt. “Please think about it.”

And then your phone rang. Convenient timing, if only to prevent an argument. You fumbled around on your nightstand for your phone and looked at the screen. It was Jade. “What the fuck does she want?” you mumbled to yourself.

“Who?” Roger asked, peering over your shoulder. Then he scowled in disgust. “Her?”

“Should I answer it?” you asked, glancing up at Roger.

“It’s up to you.”

You answered the call, putting Jade on speaker for Roger to hear. “What do you want?”

“Please don’t read The Sun today,” Jade said, sounding panicked.

Roger sat upright, looking puzzled.

“Why?” you asked, feeling a pit of dread growing larger and larger with every passing second. “What have they done now?”

“Just don’t read it, please.” She repeated her plea with more desperation. “I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry? What for? What have you done?”

Roger tapped away on his own phone and then showed you the screen. On the homepage of The Sun’s website, there were a series of articles about you and Roger. One about Charlotte and Lewis. Blurry phone photos of Roger leading you out of La Rouvenaz after your date from hell. A photo of Roger’s ex wife, with the headline: “Dominique Taylor: My Side of the Story.” And another headline. “Pals Spill the Beans on Queen Drummer’s New Squeeze.”

By the time you had finished reading everything on the page, you could hear Jade whimpering on the other end of the line.

“You fucking bitch,” Roger hissed. “You snake. How much did they pay you?”

“Please,” Jade cried. “I’m so sorry. They got it out of me without me knowing I–”

“I want to know how much they paid you!”

“Ten grand.”

Too stunned to speak, Roger verbalised exactly what was on the tip of your tongue. “Ten grand? Is that how much your best mate’s worth?”

“If I could  come over and explain, I could make things–”

Without saying a word, you hung up. Still in a state of shock, you took Roger’s phone and began at the very top of the page, scanning every single article for opinions on everything from how much you weighed to what you wore. All of your friends had something to say. Some of them even surrendered photos of you from your school days, back when the gang was much more close knit – before life got in the way of your friendships. You were too exhausted to shed tears. Too humiliated to want to set foot in the office again. You turned to Roger, whose eyes had clouded over as he seethed. “Montreux doesn’t sound like such a bad idea after all,” you said.

“I’m sorry I dragged you into this.”

“I think you’re probably the only person that actually cares about me at this point.”

“I hope I’m worth it.”

Realising what was at stake, you spent the rest of your Sunday preparing yourself for Monday. You drafted your letter of resignation, organised boxes to empty the contents of your desk into, and you had packed a suitcase with  enough to get by in Montreux until you found your feet. 

The next morning, you and Roger sat in his car outside your office building in silence.

“Just remember, I’m out here,” Roger said quietly, stroking circles above your knee.

You took a series of deep breaths, doubting your ability to march into the office and drop the letter on your boss’ desk. “All I need to do, is give Stephen the letter, clear my desk and then we can go.” You nodded, walking yourself through the perfectly plotted road map in your brain. “What if someone stops me?” you groaned, throwing your head back against the headrest. “I don’t know if I could face the Spanish Inquisition.”

“Just tell them it’s a family emergency and that you don’t want to deal with it right now.”

“But you’re better at these things than I am. You only have to breathe their air and people like you.”

“What do you care if those idiots like you?” he snorted. Then he grabbed your shoulders, ready for another one of his world class pep talks. “You’re never going to see them again. And if they talk to the papers, you’re not going to be in the bloody country to read it. You’re gonna be chilling on a lakeside promenade, with a cocktail in your hand, enjoying night after night of boring missionary sex with me, your adoring and very rich boyfriend. You’re better than that fucking dump behind you and you know it!”

“Yeah, I guess I am,” you reluctantly agreed. Staring down that the carefully typed and labelled letter in your hands, you huffed. “Guess I’m gonna have to do this now, before everyone else arrives.”

“You’ve got…” Roger paused, looking at his watch. “Five minutes, to complete your mission, Agent Kitten. Good luck.”

You chuckled and grabbed the boxes in the footwell. 

The walk into your poky marketing agency went well. Your legs managed to function and your head stayed high as you sauntered through the doors one final time. The nerves dissipated as you entered the office, weaving your way through the gigantic fishbowl, looking at all the soulless drones, sitting at their desks, tapping away at their keyboards on the company’s next big brand project. And you knew, in that moment, how much you hated it. 

That swell of hatred spurred you on as you stopped by your desk to dump the boxes. Of course, Steph and Cheryl looked up from their computer screens with raised eyebrows.

“What are those for?” Steph asked.

“Nothing,” you spat, turning on your heel towards your boss’ office.

He sat in a glass room at the far end of the main office. He loved to look out on his sea of minions and watch them waste their lives while he collected a vastly overinflated salary that said more about his greed than his talent or work ethic.

You breathed a sigh of relief when you realised his office was empty. You were able to slip inside his glass tank and pop the envelope on his desk, feeling the weight lift off your shoulders once and for all.

Mission accomplished.

Time to clear your desk.

Like a panther on a hunt, you slunk back to your desk undetected, and cleared your personal belongings away, erasing the two years of your life you had spent at this very spot. You removed the photos of your friends from the grey partition boards, and ripped them up. You safely stowed your collection of cacti and succulents in one box. Then you moved on to your drawers; rifling through them for the essentials.

It astounded you how much crap you accumulated in two years. But then, you couldn’t remember the last time you tossed anything out. There were spare packets of star shaped confetti from your first Christmas party, birthday cards, five half empty jars of instant coffee, not to mention a stack of unfinished notebooks and pens in abundance. Knowing where your real priorities lay, you scooped up the bundle of notebooks and pens and dumped them alongside your plants.

You eyed your prized possessions with overwhelming satisfaction. Standing there with your hands on your hips, you realised that you managed this with no resistance from your co-workers. Until Steph lingered beside you.

“You’re leaving, aren’t you?” she asked, jabbing her finger painfully into your arm. “You’re leaving and you didn’t tell us! Did you get the sack?” she prodded.

“No, it’s an urgent family thing abroad that I need to get to. I don’t now when I’ll be back,” you bumbled, trying to remember the spiel Roger taught you, for use in emergencies. 

“Won’t you have time for drinks?” Cheryl piped up, peering over the partition.

“I’m afraid not,” you said, shaking your head in an attempt to sound disappointed. Inside you were elated. “I need to be at the airport in an hour. Flight takes off soon.” And with that, you grabbed your belongings and headed for the door as fast as your legs could carry you.

But then, your boss slipped through, his face falling when he saw the box in your arms. “Where do you think you’re going? Get back to your desk, I haven’t given you permission to leave.”

You barged past him. His mistake for holding to door open for you, you thought. You could still hear him bellowing down the corridor as you headed for the exit. “Fuck you, Stephen!” you roared, throwing up the middle finger behind you.

Roger was waiting for you as you practically ran to his car. He stood, leaning against it. Sunglasses on, sleeves rolled up, pushing his thick, messy mane out of his face. “How’d it go, Kitten?” he asked, taking the box from you and looking inside at your loot.

“It was amazing,” you wheezed, realising how cathartic the experience was for you. “Threw my boss the middle finger as I left. It felt so fucking good. Better than sex. Better than driving one of your cars. I can’t even describe it,” you wittered as Roger put your box in the boot.

He closed it and turned to you, a smile trying to burst from his lips. “I’m really fucking proud of you.”

“So, now we go to the airport?” you asked, pressing your toe into the pavement.

“To the airport,” Roger grinned, getting back into the car.

“I’ve always wondered,” you pondered as the car hurtled down the motorway, “what happens when you leave the car at the airport?”

“I’m not leaving the car at the airport. Some poor intern at the label is going to come and collect it, and they’re going to put it into storage for me for when I make my return. Whenever that’ll be.”

“Right,” you sighed, remembering that you had a flat to empty. “And what about my place?”

“That’s easy. We can get some removal men in when we get to Montreux and they’ll put all your stuff into storage with my car. For when you make your return!” he explained excitedly. “Whenever that’ll be!”

“Fuck. We’re really doing this, aren’t we?” you sighed.

“Yeah!” Roger grinned, his eyebrows peeking out from the rims of his shades. “We really are!”

Just like the first time you and Roger boarded a plane together, your stomach stretched itself tight with apprehension. But that wasn’t to say you didn’t feel like you were making the right choice. Roger made you happy, you thought as he led you across the tarmac towards the small private plane. When you got inside, you realised it was exactly the same one as before and again, you took care not to touch anything, for fear that some other couple had done exactly what you and Roger had done between your trip to Ibiza and now. 

You and Roger plonked yourselves down next to each other on the leather sofa as stewardesses flocked to you, offering canapés and flutes of champagne. Something to make the flight to Geneva go in  a  bit faster.

The plane took off, and the pair of you watched like excited children as clouds shrouded the plane, and then dissipated just as fast, leaving you soaring through the air, high above home and not knowing when you’ll ever return.

“Should we put on some music?” Roger murmured, twirling stands of your hair around his fingers. “Spice things up a bit?”

“What like last time?”

He grinned, looking utterly irresistible with his half-buttoned shirt and his dark sunglasses. “Exactly like last time. But better.”

You watched from the sofa as Roger got to his feet and wandered over to the stereo.

“Taylor Swift?”

“Nah.”

“Springsteen?”

“We always listen to Springsteen.”

“I know,” Roger giggled, waggling his finger in the air. “I’ve got just the song for this occasion.” 

You narrowed your eyes, waiting for him to hit play on his phone.

The first few bars of ‘Danger Zone,’ boomed through the speakers, sending you into a fit of giggles. But nothing could prepare you for what came next as Roger moved towards you, swaying every part of his body to the beat.

“What are you doing?” you laughed.

“Just sit back, relax,” Roger said, turning away from you. He batted his hips from side to side, bending over to give you an unrestricted view of his bottom as he wiggled and writhed. “And enjoy the view.”

>>NEXT>>

[annashipper]

JT Anon

Ok so this is going to be a wildly unpopular opinion that you will wholeheartedly disagree w Anna, but here goes

I kinda hope they phase BC out of the MCU. Im not one of these fans that wants him to fail or to vanish forever or will never see another project until he leaves sophie (i don’t think thats ever going to happen). I just don’t think he fits w the MCU anymore and he is kinda, to me, a bummer stain on an otherwise fun experience.

The actors in the MCU are literally the only actors I’ve ever taken a mild interest in outside of their movie roles. Meaning i won’t immediately change the channel if they are on late night, or I might flip through a mag if they are in there, or im actually interested in their thoughts on their char.

The actors in the MCU, for the most part, are super engaging. They engage the fan base in  a really great way. Now granted, I get it, lots of that is coaching etc, I get that. However, the actors all engage w the material and the fanbase in a really great way. they have lovable personalities, they all seem humble and grateful and excited to be there. Even RDJ who plays on this kinda ego centric char he has is totally endearing and everyone gets it. They make the fan base feel like they are all a part of something, everyone is in it together, they genuinely want everyone to have a great time, they get how much these stories can mean to a lot of people.

Now im sure someone can pull up an anecdote here or there where MCU actors have not been their best selves, but for the most part, MCU actors make the fanbase feel loved and valued. MCU fans are not talked down to by them. Each actor has a unique and lovable personality that is engaging

BC sticks out like a sore thumb. He isn’t delivering DRS and MCU toys to hospitals, he doesn’t have social media, so he isn’t engaging w elements of the fanbase that does charity work. He doesn’t talk excitedly about DRS and MCU projects, he doesn’t comment on fan art and projects in a respectful way (ignoring the freakier ones). Now i know the dusted actors were not doing the rounds media wise, but still

Ben just comes off as someone who thinks he is above all that. All i see and think about when i think about BC and MCU fans is a guy who is just so sick of fans. Fans are all obsessed w him and won’t they go away. anyone who doesn’t worship him and dares to chat in a neg way about what he is putting out is a stalker, florals, they are all so tiring! poor, poor women who lost themselves when he married, your uteruses still have use w out him! he just seems like he doesn’t want to be there and is delusional about how much people care about him beyond gossip and riling each other up for fun

To me BC is in a totally different category from the other main MCU actors. BC is running around to the MET gala acting a fool, Ben is running around too busy trying to sell every single stitch of clothing on his body. ben is too busy branding and selling his family. ben is trying to wring every last red cent out of every move he makes.

And before anyone jumps down my throat w a long list of products MCU actors sell, I KNOW. its about the feel of it.

Ben these days comes off as a stuck up, toffy snob who doesn’t want to be there. Ben comes off as someone who has disdain for his fans, and while he def wants them to keep him and his wife in expensive vegan clothing and millionaire status, they need to just shut the fuck  up and hand over the cash. Ben comes off as someone who is entitled to fame and attention, but on his terms. Ben comes off as someone desperate to merch and brand himself. Ben comes off as someone waaaay more concerned at the moment w selling every single article of clothing he and his wife has, every single life event he can get a sponsor for.

His image is a bummer ink stain on the MCU. He is like the stuck up boring cousin at the fun family reunion who spends his whole time pouting on his phone. the only time he engages is when he is the absolute centre of attention, and he has to be making cash money off of it or he isn’t interested. he is like that one person at school who won’t shut up about how many haters they have and how jealous everyone is of them, and how he just wants to do him, meanwhile no one is actually thinking about him like that.

Think of any MCU actor and you can think of cute, funny, humble, joyful, REAL feeling fan engagement.

W BC you just get a grown ass man whining, pouting, doesn’t want to be there, would rather be selling shoes and shirts and hats

as a fan i have absolutely no interest in him as an MCU actor. I don’t want to sit there and have my eyes roll out of my head while he either sells me some product or makes some delusional comment about how obsessed, OBSESSED EVERYONE is w him and his family and WHY WON’T THEY JUST LEEEAAAVE HIM AND HIS WIIIFE ALONE (ps please buy these shoes, please buy sophies dress, please check out this vendor that sponsored our wedding, please look at the menu of the person making vegan food for us, please buy the pictures of our kids please please please)

he  has moved on from depressing to why don’t you just leave then? honestly?you would rather be throwing yourself all over a red carpet and selling clothing and jewellery and cars and vegan shoes  and talking about how hard it is to be you because youre so famous, then go do that. go do period piece after period piece in between selling washing machines. i might even see one.

BC is like getting together w your fav cousins and your mom say you have to take the annoying one along too, and he just ruins your day by complaining about being tired all the time and talking about all the expensive shit his dad in another state buys him

just let us check out fan theory and make memes and talk shit and watch interviews in peace. STFU about the stuff you have for sale. STFU about how obsessed everyone is. go to the met gala, go arrange paps for attention. just GO live the fame life you clearly think you have. let people enjoy MCU shit w out you popping in every few months to remind us that youre here too and SO SO FAMOUS

its getting to kinda ruin MCU shit to me. If i know BC will be involved, im not interested.

I just don’t want to hear him whine, and i don’t want to have another fucking thing sold to me, and thats all he’s got

J got sooooo many haters T anon

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Well, you’re right in one regard JT.  I wholeheartedly disagree with all of the above.  Not because I’m contrary and a SkeptoNanny (which of course I am), but because you’re wrong  :P

Ben didn’t do ANY promo for Endgame, so if we’re going to talk about him being a killjoy during promo for MCU projects, we have to revisit what he’s done during Doctor Strange and Infinity War promo.

And while, yes, he did make a faux pas (a pretty major one) with that incredibly stupid quote on his Vanity Fair cover interview where he thought it wise to casually mention his wife and child are not a PR stunt, other than that, his promo tour for Doctor Strange was pretty much the same as any other promo for a standalone superhero movie within the MCU.  

And then there was Infinity War promo, which was more about promoting the MCU than it was about promoting himself.  I would argue that he actually did a stellar job with that.  He even brought quite a bit of DorkyBatch out to play:

I mean...

So yeah.  If we’re going to have a serious conversation, we have to be very precise about the timing of what Ben says and does; especially when it comes to MCU promo.

Meanwhile, since you brought up charity projects linked to the MCU, let me remind you that Ben has been involved with those multiple times, through Omaze, and he even did it for Endgame (which he supposedly would have no part in and didn’t really have to do, because his character had already been dusted out of existence).

By the way, the shoes he’s selling are not always vegan.  Not the ones he wore to the MET Gala (LINK) anyway  :P

[tiredmess]

I normally hate getting political on here because it makes me so anxious but what’s going on in the US is not okay and it needs to be talked about. I may not be an American, but I am a human and I will always fight for humans rights. I don’t want to get into the nitty-gritty details of the laws being passed because I’m sure most people already know about the horrors, but I do want to address some things about legal and illegal abortions.

First of all, I just want to say that pro-choice does NOT mean pro-abortion. Nobody is happy to get an abortion, nobody is excited to have an abortion. It is a deeply personal decision for that woman and it is nobody’s business but her own. Being pro-choice means recognizing that having that choice is a fundamental right, even if you would never choose it for yourself.

Alright, let's talk about the fact that these laws are criminalizing abortions at 6 weeks, once a heartbeat can be detected. This is typically before a woman even knows she’s pregnant, and successfully strips her of her right to choose what she wants to do about her pregnancy. “Maybe she shouldn’t have had sex”, you say? People have sex. People like sex. There is nothing wrong with wanting to have sex. Unfortunately, sex education is so poor in some areas that many people don’t understand what causes pregnancy. I’ve read stories online of people thinking that they couldn’t get pregnant on their first time, from certain positions, from using the pull-out method, etc. But guess what? Providing a better sex education that doesn’t just consist of abstinence-only lessons actually decreases abortion rates! You might be asking: why is that? Well, I’ll tell you- providing a thorough and informative sex education curriculum ensures that people understand what causes pregnancy and how to prevent an unwanted pregnancy from occurring. (Source: https://journals.lww.com/ajnonline/Fulltext/2012/03000/Comprehensive_Sex_Education_for_Teens_Is_More.5.aspx). “Well I know someone who knew about safe sex practices and still got pregnant and had an abortion.” Good point! This does happen. Why? Because no form of birth control is 100% effective. Someone knew they didn’t want to have a child and was informed enough to know to use contraception and they still got pregnant? CONTRACEPTION. FAILS. A woman is not an incubator, and should not be forced to give birth because abortion doesn’t align with your beliefs. Along with that, many women do not have access to various forms of birth control in the first place. We can’t forget about them. ALSO, I personally know people who have asked their doctor to tie their tubes because they know they don’t want children. Doctors refuse because they think you’ll change your mind. Why can someone make the decision for us because they think we’ll want children later? Why aren’t we allowed to decide we do not want children and ensure that we don’t have any? Want to decrease the abortion rate? Let women choose if and when they get their tubes tied. Let people have access to affordable contraception. “Why not just carry to term and then put the baby up for adoption?” Well, there’s quite a lot to consider here. First of all, having a baby is super expensive. It can cost tens of thousands of dollars (source: https://www.businessinsider.com/how-much-does-it-cost-to-have-a-baby-2018-4). So who’s going to pay for that? Are you? Let’s also talk about the HUNDREDS OF THOUSANDS of children currently in the foster system (source: https://www.childrensrights.org/newsroom/fact-sheets/foster-care/). Who is going to adopt them, love them, care for them? These are children who are already alive, who have memories, who experience pain and love and happiness and so much more. They have already been born, and do not deserve to be forgotten about. If you choose to put a baby up for adoption then that is okay! That’s your choice and there is nothing wrong with it. But having an abortion is an equally valid choice.

Let’s talk about how abortion rates are at an all-time low right now! (Source: https://www.huffingtonpost.ca/entry/reducing-abortion-rates-policy_n_589b8ea5e4b09bd304bfd920) That’s because of everything that I have spoken about, and I’m sure more factors are at play as well. But make no mistake, the abortion rates will not continue to decrease by further restricting access to contraception, they will not decrease by reverting to “abstinence only” education, and they WILL NOT decrease by criminalizing abortions. Because guess what? Criminalizing abortions kills women. Abortions will not stop happening, but they will look different. Women punching themselves in the stomach to induce miscarriage, women sticking objects such as metal clothes hangers or knitting needles up their vaginas to try and remove the embryo/fetus, women douching with substances like bleach to induce a miscarriage, women forcing themselves to become hypothermic to induce a miscarriage, and so many more. Criminalizing abortion will not decrease the rate of abortion, but it will sure as hell increase the rate of deaths among women. Still on the fence? Let’s talk about some of the stories I’ve read over the past few days from places where abortion is illegal. Unfortunately, I did not save the links, but I’ll update this post if I find any. I’ve read about babies being thrown out of cars onto the highway, babies being abandoned on river banks or even in the river, babies being left in storm drains, babies being left in garbage cans. This is horrible, yes, and it breaks my heart to hear about, but do you know what would decrease the rate that this happens? Access to safe and legal abortions. The ability to terminate a pregnancy when the embryo feels no pain and has no consciousness would lower the rate that living babies are killed or abandoned in unsafe places where they actually have to suffer. I’m not here to argue about “when life really starts”, but you have to admit that there is a better option. Thanks for your time if you’ve made it this far. Please remember that pro-choice=/=pro-abortion. Pro-choice means acknowledging that you have no right to decide what’s best for another person. I didn’t say everything I wanted to because this is already so long, so I’ll add some pictures that sum up what I mean and how I feel. And lastly, from the bottom of my heart, stay the fuck out of our uteruses.

[transadvice]

im a trans guy and recently I've noticed myself mentally group myself up with girls, even though identified as trans for years. idk why but recently when I here someone say "girls don't do that" my first thought would be, yeah we do. before remember im a guy. the feeling of referring to myself as female is awful, but I don't know why I keep doing it. I did this back before I knew was trans to. how do I stop?

I do this too - mentally lumping myself in with women, especially when I think about women as a sort of political category when I’m discussing topics like gender discrimination and misogyny. And it’s not wrong to include myself in the group of people who, for example, were socialized to do more of the emotional labor in a relationship, or who could be directly hurt by anti-abortion laws. It’s also understandable that I’d shorthand those groups to “women,” as most people do. But it sucks hearing that “as women, we...” sentence come out of my mouth and realizing I’m misgendering myself. 

All of us, trans and cis, have more work to do around updating our language to be more inclusive. Before we spout off about “women” and “men,” we need to think harder about what groups we actually mean and describe them with more accuracy. Maybe we don’t mean “women,” we mean “people who are perceived as women,” or “people who present femme,” or “people with uteruses.” These groups overlap, but they are not identical, and so the terms are not interchangeable. It’s important to think about the group we mean in context. It’s harder than just saying “women” or “men,” and it requires more thought, and it is especially difficult because we’re not used to it and we have bad habits to unlearn, but it’s so important (especially in writing). 

CHALLENGE #1: Next time you’re about to say or write “women” or “girls,” try to replace it with a phrase in the form “people who _________.” How do you complete that phrase in the context you’re discussing? 

When you’re speaking extemporaneously, or just thinking thoughts in your head, it’s a lot harder to be perfect about the words you choose. And I know firsthand that you can feel bad about just THINKING of yourself as part of the “we” of women, even if you catch yourself before you say it out loud. 

Try not to take it too hard. Slip-ups happen, especially when you’ve spent a significant amount of time thinking of yourself as belonging to the group of women. It’s a habit, a linguistic shorthand, not a referendum on your identity. You are not invalidating yourself.

CHALLENGE #2: Next time you slip up, take it easy on yourself! Correct yourself and move on. The best way avoid a shame spiral is to handle errors with grace. 

Over time, this will get easier! 

[thisdiscontentedwinter]

“I do see exclusion as an inherently bad thing, yes, and nothing will change my mind on that. Simply because women are not a monolith, and being born with a vagina does not mean we all share the same experiences of how being female relates to the world. I believe in intersectional feminism, and that transwomen are very much a part of that.” And this is the core thing, isn’t it. I actually held this same opinion until a couple of years ago. I started seeing a certain kind of rhetoric from trans activists online - some of whom, upon reflection, probably represent an extreme view that shouldn’t be taken too seriously - that had me doing double takes and started changing my mind. I’ll back up and try to explain how my mind changed and why I struggle with this topic. I agree with you that women are not a monolith and that women in general have different experiences. I also agree that being born with a vagina does not mean we all share the same experiences of how being female relates to the world, but I disagree with what that implies and how you’ve interpreted that - those different experiences are because of the different cultural takes on what that vagina means. The presence of the vagina is inherent and necessary. The fundamental principle of feminism that I grew up with is that the category of woman is given to people with the female reproductive system, and that category was seen and treated as inferior for no good reason in all cultures. What ‘woman’ actually is (gender roles, gender expectations, treatment by wider society etc ie “gender”) is culturally malleable and constructed and varies slightly from place to place; the universal consistency is that this category is placed upon people born with the female sex (distinct from gender) in order to control and oppress them. Like, it’s key to feminism that the sex provokes the ‘woman’ category, and females are socialised into the ‘woman’ role. The oppression women face isn’t due to a demonstrable lack of intelligence or capability or physiology, it’s because someone looked at our genitals as babies and went 'okay, this is what we call and how we treat people with this biology.’ So that’s my understanding. Women are historically oppressed due to abitrary negative stereotypes placed on them because of their biological sex. How that oppression manifests is different according to culture, geography, ethnicity, religion. Where intersectionality comes into it, for me, is acknowledging all those differences in experiences and including them in feminist progress in dismantling these stereotypes and the unequal treatment and discrimination resulting from them. (some) Trans women state that they are women because they essentially 'feel like it’. They claim an internal sense of 'womanhood’ and this means they are women. When I saw this I was like “:/ okaaay, but how do you measure that, what does that actually mean.” This internal sense seems to be explained in terms like “I preferred pink and playing with dolls as a child, and I always got along better with girls, I preferred doing girly things.” This is more of a call on gender stereotypes than a satisfactory explanation - identification with the performance of the arbitrary, cultural construction of gender, something which changes over time and with which many (cis) women do not identify (yet are still discriminated against - their feelings don’t matter to people who look at them and treat them differently). They have this idea of womanhood and identify with that. I know trans people say that cis people don’t understand that internal sense of 'manhood’ and 'womanhood’ because in them it’s all aligned with their sex - I disagree. If there’s this strong of an internal sense of being a woman or being a man, surely a reasonable proportion of all women and men would report experiencing it. Again, I’m falling prone to the anecdote thing, but in my case, I don’t 'feel’ like a woman. I’m a person in a meatsack who is treated unfairly because of stupid ideas about the meatsack that have nothing to do with my qualities as a person. My female and male friends report the same kind of feeling. If I woke up tomorrow in a male body, I’d probably miss some things about my female body, but I’d be able to go through life in a male body without too much concern. I would then be a man and not a woman, despite my previous few decades in a female body; the concept is a nothing concept so it doesn’t matter. I am open to the idea that people have an innate sense of womanhood or manhood, but it’s so subjective it’s not very useful as a key identification measure for a political group. This is a very different definition of 'woman’ and to me, it completely undermines the key principle underlying feminist discourse. What is also confusing to me is that the transgender community seems roughly split into two groups - those, like above, who *feel* aligned with the opposite sex; and those who say there is a physical miswiring somewhere that causes a mismatch between their internal sense of themselves and their sex, this is a medical condition called gender dysphoria, and the best treatment is transition. Ie you’re trans if you think you are, you’re a woman if you think you are, and you’re a man if you think you are, versus you are trans if you have gender dysphoria, you think you are a woman but biologically you’re a man and you can’t expect to be treated as a woman (or a man) until you physically transition, which will ease your dysphoria. These are two quite different experiences underpinning the definition of transgender. To me, all this confusion over what it even means to be transgender doesn’t represent a cohesive front or group to meaningfully discuss this stuff with. The big thing that got me criticising the issue of inclusion of trans woman is the above realisation, that that definition undermines the ideological foundation of feminism that has brought so much progress to women. It’s an ideological difference that’s fundamental. Other things that bolstered it was accompanying rhetoric I saw online. - eg it’s transphobic/exclusive to discuss things like uteruses (uteri?), menstruation, FGM in feminist spaces, if you do it, you’re a bigot. That doesn’t feel like progress to me, to tell women they can’t discuss the bodily stuff that is the basis of their oppression, and still is for girls and women around the world, in the context of their experiences as women and as people in the world. It feels like misogyny by another name. - eg it’s transphobic to have genital preferences. I think this is a horrible thing to say. Some people do not care what genitals are involved in the sex they’re having, that is fine. Some people do, and that is also fine. Dating and who you have sex with is inherently exclusionary - not everyone is attracted to every person in their identified pool - and it involves bodies, it involves hardwired preferences, and these things can’t be changed if you just think about it really really hard. 'Preferences’ is not a good word for the concept, it implies a choice that I don’t think is there. I really don’t think people choose what they’re attracted to and what turns them on in sex. Examining your sexual self to understand how you operate and what you like and don’t like is an excellent thing to do. I also agree that trans people find it hard to date people. But calling people transphobic - especially lesbians, this seems to happen more with lesbians and trans women than gay men and trans men - because of something innate is just shitty behaviour. I was really disgusted by this. No one is owed sex. - eg there are no real differences between trans women and cis women. Any differences noted in discourse are a result of the person stating them being transphobic. A person who says they’re a woman has female biology because of this statement. This is an attitude I see a lot - any criticism of things like the above, any reference to any differences between trans woman and cis women, and suddenly you’re a bigot, a terf, a transphobic asshole, wrongthink in action! This worries me. Because there ARE differences, and shouting them down is not the way to bring people to your way of thinking. - eg gender dysphoric children should be encouraged to transition or go on puberty blockers. There’s a study out there that states something like 70-90% of gender dysphoric children desist by the end of puberty. Telling them they’re trans and putting them on drugs is not the right way to treat these kids, sensitive and appropriate counselling is. This in particular really worries me. - eg detransitioners exist and have a lot to say, but because it’s critical of transgenderism, they’re ignored. This rubs me the wrong way - they have insight into the interplay between self-understanding, sex, gender and culture, that’s valuable to general understanding of the self, sex, gender, and culture. I could go on, but this is so long. So I was originally supportive - I really was. I’m now more critical, because I don’t see a clear cohesive movement that is, ironically, inclusive, or that supports feminist issues, I’m seeing something that aggressively undermines the one movement that has truly progressed women’s rights. It strikes me that women and feminists are arguing about this more than men are, that men aren’t saying 'trans men are men’ in the same way women are expected to say 'trans women are women’. That also says something to me about the overall issue, and it’s not a good thing. It’s entirely possible that I’m hanging out in the trans part of the internet that has the assholes in it. Every group has its assholes. I also acknowledge that radical feminist groups have their hateful assholes too - but the reason I went into radical feminist spaces was to see what those evil terfs are saying and why they’re so bad, and I didn’t find evil, I found them addressing the concerns I had. They’re talking about the above things, whereas in the supposedly inclusive spaces with trans people, those topics weren’t allowed to be discussed. But I haven’t seen many answers to some of the problems trans people face - violence and discrimination in employment and housing is a real thing, and that does need to be addressed. By feminists? I’m not sure. Trans people are more than capable of organising in their self-interests - if they could find a common ground and common interests. I do think trans women face violence in male spaces and can be accommodated in female spaces - within reason. The case of Karen White in the UK is a good example of how that’s not a good rule of thumb. There’s also a domestic violence shelter in Canada that’s being sued by the women who were in it for allowing a trans woman inside, because the trans women acted in a very predatory way that caused the women distress in a place where they expected safety. I also know of one trans woman in Vancouver who tried to have a rape crisis shelter defunded because it didn’t support sex workers - that’s a valid criticism, but defunding it isn’t the action I would hope to see from any woman; it’s pointedly aggressive coming from a trans woman. For me, I do wonder whether people such as yourself are seeing the same stuff I’m seeing. I guess not. I find it very difficult to go back to the whole 'oh yeah, trans women are women and share our oppression’ stance, because I just don’t see that in evidence. In our conversation I notice that we’ve got a really fundamental difference in how we interpret and approach the world, for example the exclusion thing. Perhaps it’s too fundamental a difference and we won’t find much to agree on. I don’t know if you’ll take the time to respond to this, because it’s so long, but if you could articulate why this inclusion makes sense to you, I would actually really appreciate it. If not, that’s fine, we’re both busy people. Thanks for reading anyway, and thanks again for the conversation and for engaging with me. I *am* sorry about the length :S

DW: 

For me, it’s not a matter of “transwomen are women and share our oppression.” 

It’s a matter of “transwomen are women and are oppressed because they are transwomen.” 

Their oppression might not be exactly the same as mine, but neither is the oppression of a 12 year old child bride on the other side of the world. 

Simply put, it intersectional feminism can make room for all the different types of experiences of women–cultural, and economic, and religious, and social, and geographical–then why not widen the umbrella to include transwomen? 

There’s also a domestic violence shelter in Canada that’s being sued by the women who were in it for allowing a trans woman inside, because the trans women acted in a very predatory way that caused the women distress in a place where they expected safety. I also know of one trans woman in Vancouver who tried to have a rape crisis shelter defunded because it didn’t support sex workers - that’s a valid criticism, but defunding it isn’t the action I would hope to see from any woman; it’s pointedly aggressive coming from a trans woman.

There will always be anecdotes, and there will always be assholes, but judging all transwomen by the actions of a few is not helpful to anyone. 

When it comes to women’s shelters, there are plenty of shelters who don’t allow boys to stay, forcing families out onto the streets in cases of domestic violence because a mother doesn’t want to be separated from her son–who is a child. I think that’s unfair and wrong, but I’m not going to claim from that that all feminists are anti-child. 

I’ve taken calls from women’s shelters before where women were being threatened by other women and the workers were requesting the police. The women there also had an expectation of safety, but gender doesn’t come into it, and the implication that the transwoman was predatory because she is trans is drawing a very long bow.   

In the case of the Vancouver rape crisis shelter, why aren’t sex workers supported? That seems discriminatory. Also, why it is more “pointedly aggressive” coming from a transwoman than from anyone else? Given that transwomen are over-represented in sex work, why wouldn’t a transwoman have every right to want to fight this?

And you can bring up Karen White if you like. And I can counter with articles about transwomen who have been raped in male prisons, which I hope you would agree is just as heinous. 

In the end, nothing is going to change my mind on this. I think that being a woman is more complicated than a biological function, and I think that transwomen, while not oppressed in the same way as ciswoman, still face oppression because of their gender. And I think that there is plenty of room to be inclusive. 

[phragcoradeer1983-blog]

And it's such complete bullshit. Most of the time it's just expensive waste of time. It's not like these are witchdoctors that can magically open up your brain and rearrange it or change reality of her childhood. Breakthroughs in ingredients have allowed manufacturers to create concentrated liquid plant derivatives that are more effective in combating aging skin compared with many creams on the market. And they tend to be milder, presumably because of a lack of filler ingredients that many creams have, so they're more appropriate for aging and sensitive skin. Be sure to keep in mind, though, that these are products where a little hype can go a long way, so be sure to put on your "buyers beware" cap when sifting through your options.. It's easy to see why this is the case. While we are constantly told that our non physical characteristics are the ones that matter, the media seems to celebrate beauty and attractiveness at every possible opportunity. All the lead actors and actresses in high ranking movies and TV shows are the ones that sport all the qualities of beauty in society's eyes. She drove up to the school to see for herself and her and the principal walked to my 5th hour to confirm I was really in class. He harassed my teacher too. "She wasn here the whole time. "Come, dearest child!" said Hester encouragingly, and stretching out both her arms. "How slow thou art! When hast thou been so sluggish before now? Here is a friend of mine, who must be thy friend also. Thou wilt have twice as much love henceforward as thy mother alone could give thee! Leap across the brook and come to us. She clearly was wrong and will know in future. I'm the strong woman in my office because I do weights so I'm no stranger to being asked for help and I don't become an ass about it. It's nice and decent to be able to help a person out who needs help. The first uni break when I came home to visit, I discovered he had made friends with and been hanging out with some of my family members and was talking to my mother (who has zero loyalty where I am concerned with exes. If theres an ex she can side with over me, she there). So I wasn too happy he had infiltrated my family and wanted nothing to do with him. Then you see pigtail hair girl with the grey hair. We know what happened to Mitsuru when he got really sick and needed the yellow bloodcell shot. They aging rapidly and I don think their bodies can keep up. It a pet peeve of mine when people equate tretinoin to retinol. They entirely different ingredients. But they both retinoids. Women were raped. They cut off breasts, cut out uteruses, plucked out eyes, cut off noses, and put hot needles under peoples fingernails. It some horrific serial killer shit and it was done on a massive scale by many people.. You have to kick inactive members regardless of your friendliness with them. If they log on one time a week or one time every two days, there a good chance, they only doing it because they still have lingering feelings for the guild. You have to let them go so they can move on. I have a collection of soft brown eyeshadows and only a few compliment my skin tone. It looks like the abh palettes are boring, 청주출장샵 but they just want to cater to everyone. YouTube conditioned us to think that we should buy all the new palettes, but in reality you just need to choose one of them!. Here the problem: Perfect justice does not allow that one person be punished in place of another, no matter how willing or loving. The death of Jesus as the vehicle for the forgiveness of sins is not a punishment done from Justice, but is a mere blood sacrifice. This reveals that Yahweh is not the all creating perfect eternal king of the universe, but 청주출장샵 a savage, vestigial local deity left over from brutal pre history, and all arguments for his existence stemming from his perfection are thus defeated.

[ableaspie]

Bullying

While I’m pretty vocal about my mental health, I’m not super vocal about my physical health; mostly because it’s in the past. But for the sake of this, I’ll explain how bullying effected me in the past:

I was born with two uteruses, one without a vagina attached. Sounds like TMI, but hear me out. Because one uterus didn’t have a drain, there was no way to drain the endometrium, and so not only did I have endometriosis, but because of the combination of mixed hormones and vonWillebrand’s I was constantly on my period and constantly in pain. I was often crying because of the pain I was in, and especially boys would make fun of me. Because I started my period early, not a lot of boys understood what I was dealing with, only that I was crying for apparently no reason. One day a boy made fun of me, so I chucked a full plastic water bottle at his face. I had to stay inside during recess

People are generally mean in middle school, it’s a given. But people are particularly harsh if you’re weird. I didn’t know at the time that I had asperger’s, only that I had depression and anxiety, and that I was still dealing with severe pain (which I didn’t find out until high school was the second uterus). People would often whisper to each other about me, but no one did anything until one day. A group of girls walked behind me while I was going to lunch, literally talking behind my back and saying cruel things; that I was stupid, that I was overly dramatic, that “it’s not that bad” and “I need to suck it up”. I used a pivot turn to backhand the girl directly behind me, and told her “If you have something to say about me, say it to my face.” I had literally knocked her to the floor, and I was suspended for the rest of the day and diagnosed with Bipolar II (incorrectly).

My parents have recently been talking on and off about moving to Portugal to retire, and they want to bring the family along. My dad encouraged I ask around the role play sites I tend to be on to see if anyone knows anything. I usually try to be very clear in my “about me” and introduction about my disabilities, so people know what they’re dealing with when they play with me; but when I asked one of my partners, he told me to stop talking to him because he wasn’t sure I was “a cemented adult”. That night I cried, because no one in the past had questioned my adulthood. The next day I asked the admins for help, and apparently that particular user was quitting the site and severing ties in anyway he could, and they reassured me that he was in the wrong.

In my previous two stories, I had dealt with the bullying for so long that I snapped and acted out physically. But if anyone were to ask me if I regretted it, I would say “no”. Because after that the bullying stopped. The first incident was in elementary school, and anyone who went to middle school with me who was in the same elementary class as me knew better than to pick a fight. And in middle school, I gained the reputation not as a “crazy ass bitch”, but as “the nicest girl you will ever meet until you make her mad”. And everyone knew to be nice to me. (Which is really weird looking back...)

But the last one is difficult. It’s not like in school where you can punch someone and get detention or suspension. As an adult it’s assault, and you can get arrested for that. But that’s if the person who’s bullying you is physically in front of you; online you don’t see the face behind the text. All you see is the text. For all you know they could be lies or sarcasm, but with no voice it’s hard for an aspie to tell. I reread our messages, and realized several times he tried to “ghost” me or back out of our friendship, but I didn’t understand. But it’s part of why I warn people. So they know what they’re getting into.

However, to many people, that’s a bigger excuse to bully. Because I’m “weak” and I don’t understand. Because they feel like they can get away with more because I’m less likely to do something. Unfortunately, not a lot of people are like me. A lot of people who are bullied don’t fight back, they commit suicide or just rely on others to deal with the problem. I normally don’t encourage fighting, but part of the reason that I don’t want to have children of my own is because I believe “if they hit you, it’s no longer assault; it’s self defense”. I believe if they start it, it’s your job to end it. If my kid were to get hit, I’d encourage them to hit back. (Not as a teacher, it’s my paid job to prevent that from happening.)

Never start a fight, never bully. But if someone starts a fight with you, if someone is bullying you, take charge and end it.

[andersunmenschlich]

A Fun Conversation I Had Recently

Somebody on a forum I frequent called trans women "gay men" and drew a line between trans men and "real men."

I did that thing where I explain the difference between sex and gender (trans women are women, not men—they may be male but that's a different subject—same goes for trans men except the other way, and the conditioning you get from being raised in one social category or the other is something else again, you know the drill).

Later I got a message from somebody else, asking what I thought about their stance on trans issues. They seemed to think I had the authority to make an absolute judgment.

Reader, I'm unusually bad at recognizing trolls.

THEM [messaging me for the first time] Is it okay that I don't take sides on the transgender debate?

ME [baffled] What? Well... it's not okay with me, no. I see not taking sides on this issue as siding with the people who're physically harming the other side. But I'm not you, I don't matter in your life, I have no idea why you care what I think—make up your own mind.

THEM Both sides are physically harming each other, though.

ME [taken by surprise] What? No, they're really not.

THEM Yes, they are.

ME Here's evidence of transphobes hurting and even killing trans people. (I have no evidence of it happening the other way.)

THEM Here's a handful of false claims (with no citations).

ME Here are the refutations (with sources). And why do you only seem to have bad info from the transphobe side?

THEM Well, you have all the good info from the trans side. So I don't need to present that.

ME You don't need to present any of it! And if you just really wanted to convince me you're neutral, it would make way more sense for you to list the stuff you believe from both sides!

THEM I believe stuff from both sides, and I think you have a disorder.

ME [ignoring the insult] So what stuff do you believe from the pro-trans side?

THEM ____ want to have sex with trans women more than with cis women.

ME ...Can you complete that sentence?

THEM I! I think trans women are sexier than cis women! And I'm absolutely positive you have a disorder!

ME That is not a pro-trans argument, and I think you have a disorder. See how rude that is? [deep sigh] Anyway. Do you believe anything that is actually pro-trans?

THEM Well, if anybody could prove that being trans is a thing that actually happens, I would believe that. But I really don't think anyone ever could.

ME Right. Well, far from convincing me that you're neutral (and I still don't know why that matters to you), you've convinced me that you're on the side that doesn't believe trans people exist.

THEM Oh yeah? Well, you've convinced me that you're neutral!

ME ...What in the name of sanity are you saying. You know what, I have a life that is more entertaining than this.

THEM If you get to decide what I believe, I get to decide what you believe! You probably also think people with uteruses should get to decide whether they grow new life in them or not.

ME ...You told me what you believed. You were very clear about it. You don't think trans people exist. Here's a link to a fine starting point for really diving into why that's wrong, and yeah, I am pro-choice. And look, I get where you're coming from. I used to be there. Now I'm here. Facts do that sometimes.

THEM Well, give me the facts.

ME [utter bewilderment] You want even more than I've already given you? You know what, no. I have a life. I'm not getting paid to be your teacher. I still don't know why you care what I think, but... get over it? I'm just a random person, not your mentor. You want a teacher, go find an actual teacher. And seriously: good luck.

[hannahindie]

Party like it’s Pawnee, Indiana! Follower Celebration

jellGuys. GUYS. I’ve hit 400 followers. I am totally floored that in the three and a half months that I’ve been writing, I have gained so many amazing people. You guys are the best. And because you’re the best, I want to see what you can do with those creative brains of yours! So I propose a challenge!

 A PARKS AND REC WRITING CHALLENGE.

 Parks and Rec is one of my favorite tv shows, and I’m pretty sure if Ron Swanson and Dean ever met it would be a glorious day. Below the cut  are 45 Parks and Recs quotes and rules for the challenge. I look forward to seeing what you guys come up with!!!

The Guidelines

-Reader inserts are preferable. If you would like to do something different that’s fine, but please no Wincest or Samifer. If you’re into that kinda thing that’s a-okay, but for this particular challenge, I’d rather you didn’t.

-You don’t have to be following me, but I would love it if you did! Because friends and stuff.

-Please send me the person’s name and the quote number. For ex. “Ron Swanson, number 5.” If you know who you’re writing for, please let me know that as well. If not, that’s okay.

-Supernatural only for this challenge, please!

-There’s not a hard due date, although I’d like to get everything in by September 3, just so I can get a masterlist put together. That seems like a long time, but I’m busy and you’re probably busy, so I want to give you plenty of time.

-If your fic is over 500 words, pleeeeeease use the “Keep Reading” option.

-Anyone can participate, but if you are going to write something NSFW, please only do so if you’re 18 or older. If I can tell you aren’t, I will not reblog it. I’m not trying to be mean, but you precious angel babies need to stay precious angel babies for a little longer, and I’m not gonna participate in corrupting you.

-Write any genre you want! I love all kinds, and I like to make people laugh and also destroy their souls with angst, so give me your best shot. The only thing I ask is that if there are adult themes, to please note that in your warnings/Authors Note.

-Tag me! @hannahindie If I don’t respond within 48 hours (this can include a favorite, comment, or reblog), then please send me an ask or a message. Tumblr tags can be pretty finicky, and I don’t want to miss anything!

-Use #HanCelebratesWithPawnee in the first five tags when you post.

 If you have any questions, please let me know!!

  Ron Swanson

 “Any dog under 50 pounds is a cat, and cats are useless.”

“Clear alcohols are for rich women on diets”. 

“I’m not interested in caring about people.

“There’s only one thing I hate more than lying: skim milk. Which is water that is lying about being milk.” 

Ron: “I’m hungry.” Leslie: “Okay, well don’t be such a baby. I cooked you some bacon for a trail snack.” Ron: “I ate it already.” Leslie: “What?” Ron: “I could smell it in your purse before I even parked my car. And now it’s gone, and I hate everything.”

“Just give me all the bacon and eggs you have. Wait…wait. I worry what you just heard was: Give me a lot of bacon and eggs. What I said was: Give me all the bacon and eggs you have. Do you understand?”

 Leslie Knope

“Calzones are pointless. They’re just pizza that’s harder to eat. No one likes them. Good day, sir.

“I stand by my decision to avoid salad and other disgusting things.

“You know my code, hoes before bros. Uteruses before duderuses. Ovaries before broveries."

“The only thing I’ll be waving is your decapitated head on a stick in front of your mother!"

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m about to endorse ten beers into my mouth, ‘cause this has been an incredibly stressful evening."

Doctor: “Are you two a couple?” ”No. Tragically, we are both heterosexual."

“Everything hurts and I’m dying."

“I’m fart, and I’m smunny, and I’m a prize."

 Ann Perkins

“Jogging is the worst. I know it keeps you healthy, but God, at what cost?”

Ann: “Oh, I have a good idea!” Leslie: “What? Ann: “Why don’t you ask him about his penis?”

“3...2...1...and my shift’s over. What the fuck is your problem?!“

“This seems like the kind of place a Ska band would go to shoot heroin.”

“Right now my gut is telling me we're going to listen to Mariah Carey the whole way home.”

Leslie: “See there's more things to look at on the internet other than naked guys, Ann.” Ann: What?

 Ben Wyatt

“I don’t even have time to tell you how wrong you are. ...Actually, it’s going to bug me if I don’t.”

“I feel great, I ran a 5K this morning.” ”Really?” ”No, I threw up in the shower.

“Stick to the list and you’ll do great. I have total faith in you. ...There’s like a 30% chance they’ll both die.”

“Mr. Feinstein, with all due respect...You are a major dick.”

“I have been kinda tense lately. Just thinkin’ about the new Star Wars sequel”

 Andy Dwyer

“I have no idea what I’m doing, but I know I’m doing it really, really well.”

“I’m fine. It’s just that life is pointless, and nothing matters, and I’m always tired.” @deanssweetheart23

“When I get bummed out, I take my shirt off because the bad feelings make me feel sweaty.”

“I tried to make ramen in the coffee pot and broke everything.”

“I’m not crying, okay? I’m just allergic to jerks."

 April Ludgate

“Yea...I’m trying to find a reason to be annoyed by it, but I’m coming up empty.”

“But then I remembered alcohol existed.”

“I declare that everything that you are saying is stupid.��

“I guess I kind of hate most things, but I never really seem to hate you.”

“I wanted to make fun of stupid people while I get drunk, my two true passions.”

 Chris Traeger

“If I keep my body moving, and my mind occupied at all times, I will avoid falling into a bottomless pit of despair.”

“I am 100% certain that I am 0% sure of what I’m going to do.”

“My anxiety has kept me up for over 50 hours.”

“My body is finely tuned, like a microchip. And the flu is like a grain of sand. It could literally shut down the whole system.”

“I think you’ve got several options. They’re all terrible...but you have them.”

 Miscellaneous

“I have never taken the high road. But I tell other people to ’cause then there’s more room for me on the low road. - Tom Haverford

“Pawnee is the opposite of hip. People in this town are just now getting into Nirvana. I don’t have the heart to tell them what’s gonna happen to Kurt Cobain in 1994.” - Tom Haverford

“No, no, no, that’s way too much responsibility for me.” - Jean-Ralphio Saperstein

“Yes, I’m a hunter. And it’s “you” season.” -Donna Meagle

Forever Tags: @trexrambling @pinknerdpanda  @wheresthekillswitch @emilywritesaboutdean @arryn-nyxx @emptywithout @escabell @charliebradbury1104 @jarpadandjensenaremyheroes  @deanssweetheart23  @canadianjelly @super-not-naturall @aubreyreadsstuff @dean-winchesters-baby @melissaj616 @fandomismyspiritanimal @keepcalmandcarryondean @assbutt-still-in-hell @owllover123 @rosie-winchester @amionthetumbler @duubaduu @hiimaprofessionalfangirl @goldenolaf25 @authoressskr