#womp womp

[whorenaissance]

unfortunately for me, i want to be wanted

[honeysdripppping]

how’s the view? 😘

[batsybat91]

When you got married, you were certain you wouldn't be a statistic. I'm not going to be the woman who gets divorced. I love my husband. You were so convinced of this fact. Why would you get married to someone if you were just going to get divorced? It's stupid! You lived with Simon for a year and a half before you married him. You dated him for four years before you married him.

You were not going to get divorced.

You signed the divorce papers two years ago. After about three years of marriage, you couldn't take the loneliness anymore. Simon always told you that he wouldn't be a good husband. He always told you that he would be gone for work all the time. Hell, you got used to him being gone when you lived together pre-marriage. What you never would have predicted is... the drinking. He wasn't a mean drunk. No, he never laid a hand on you. But he was a sad drunk. Simon was miserable to be around.

Eventually, you found out it was because of Johnny's death. He didn't tell you Johnny was dead. No, that would be too easy. John Price told you about it when he invited you to the funeral. You stayed married to Simon another year after Johnny died. How could you leave him alone after such pain?

Things never got better. He only became more and more unhappy. He wouldn't cry or speak about his friend's death in a healthy way. He would drink, become more miserable, drink more, and pass out at the kitchen table. You hadn't kissed him for six months. You hadn't hugged him for eight. You hadn't made love for almost a year. Simon truly became his namesake: a Ghost.

So, you divorced him. Tears were on the papers when you served them to him, your signature smudged with ink. "I'm going to live with my mother for a while," you told him. You sniffled, wiping your eyes free of the tears that gathered while you spoke. "I want your things to be gone in six months... Hopefully that's enough time."

He signed them without argument, just muttering a gruff, "Alright."

You still wear the ring. You loved that man for seven years before the divorce. You love him still, two years later. The ring is beautiful. Sometimes, you still tell men you're taken. John checks on you from time to time.

Today... is your anniversary. It would be the fifth year of your marriage. You lie on your sofa, staring at the ceiling. God, you miss the man he was. He would have been a wonderful husband. You felt lonely when you were married to him. You feel lonely now. Maybe if you had just stayed married... maybe if you had just tried to help him more, or tried to be a better support-

You kiss your ring. "I love you, Simon."

You shouldn't have gotten divorced.

It shouldn't have ended this way.

A knock on your door startles you, pulling you from your thoughts. You stand up to answer it, despite the fact that you haven't fixed your hair, that you haven't had a shower, that you have been crying all day long. At your door is a sober young man, his blonde hair cut high and tight, his brown eyes clear and bright. You've not seen this man since Johnny died. "Hey, baby," Simon says, his voice gruff but not slurred. "I've been going to AA for two years."

You blink up at him. "Simon?"

"I needed to see you again," he whispers. "I understand- I-I-I know- I know you divorced me-" He glances down at your ring. "But I cleaned up. And- And I-I missed you."

You've never heard him stammer before. "You look good," you manage to say after a few moments of stunned silence.

"You look terrible," he chuckles, then catches himself. "Sorry, that was- that was rude."

"You're stammering. Like a normal person," you say.

"I'm quite nervous," he admits. "I'm not sure if... you love me anymore."

"I do." Your voice cracks. "Simon, I never stopped loving you. But after Johnny died, you became a - for lack of a better word - a ghost."

He huffs a breath through his nose at that. "I know. I didn't know what to do with the grief. And then you left me, and it got worse."

"Just- Just come here, and let me hug you," you blurt, holding your arms open for him. "I wish you'd done this when we were married."

[urmumhaha]

I wish butch n femme balls existed. Not to b a fucking sap n a massive dyke but wow. Ugh even. Just wanna wear a gown n stilettos n have my honey greet me w a bouquet before we leave n we wear matching or complimentary jewelry n spend hours on my hair and makeup to impress. N then when we get there my honey will spin me around the room for a brief dance before grabbing something to drink, wine for me n whiskey for her, as we chat w other dykes n celebrate butchfemmeness. Or whatever

[knightofleo]

[kittenscratches]

If your response to transmascs talking about the ways in which we're disproportionately harmed and pointing to evidence of that, is to say we're "saying we have it the worst" or any other "oppression olympics" bullshit, then you are participating in anti-transmasc rhetoric rooted in misogyny, and contributing to our erasure full stop. Even if you yourself are transmasc.

If you look at the ways transmascs are trying to point out that, yes, we are harmed too, and we experience violence at alarming rates in these areas, and immediately try to downplay that by saying we're "arguing we're the most oppressed" and "want to be victims" and all that other rhetoric constantly used to dismiss us, you're being transphobic.

If you use "statistics aren't always accurate/leave out people etc" as reasons we should therefore not talk about our issues, especially in combination with the above rhetoric that we're trying to say we have it the worst, you are contributing to anti-transmasculinity, transphobia, and our erasure. Even if you are transmasc.

The end result is the same, no matter your reasoning or how you justify it to yourself: transmascs stop talking about the ways in which they're harmed. Which is violence in one of its most insidious forms.

[catswitheyes]

[drawsry]

Something something drawing your favourite character with your problems