#i am the anemic femme

[femmepire-butchbiter]

This just in: Anemic femmes yearn for butches and studs who run hot. More on this and other shocking statistics at 11!

[an-unholy-devotion-and-desire]

💘 call me Roman, Fiifi , Afia or Cupid ~ !! 💘

💫 she / he / fae / mink + any 💫 Alter/Part - Co-host of a system !

HOWDY! - im an alter n co-host 4 our system @infin8drip (main blog) - im a cherubim + succubus hybrid but i dont rly claim my more "corrupted" side of the spectrum or wtvr, im jus a zesty rebellious stupid ho LMAO (lightheartedly half jokin). i do have shiftable forms that more "simpler" 4 others in the headspace, typically i look like this :p (warnin, this is the host old art n it's an old ass "selfies" of me in the middle, i will update the this lol also i typically like messin around w/ my hair. )

- (ALL art by this sytem) - tw warnin 4 the n slur up ahead on the 3rd pic (i can reclaim it.)

- i'm an OCtive + Mixoject of multiple sources! ( sources; The other host OC, Cupid, Angels, Cherubim (Media & biblical accurate), Lola Bunny , Minerva Mink) - My system job resume includes: internal self helper, sexual protector, ADHD, BPD, NPD, OCPD, hypersexual symptom holder - i'm mentally (i say 'mentally' bc truely i'm ageless but im an adult) early 30 yr old, in a 25yr old body ✌🏾 how do u do c: - I am nonhuman and may interact with nonhuman/alterhuman posts! i identify as ! : - pangenderfaer - Etherio/Etho/nonhuman boy - pan gaybian, - stemmetwink !(mostly femme) - turigirl ! - i'm wlw, wlm , mlm, nblm , nblw , nblnb !! - i'm partnered x10 /r & /qpr <3 ; by members in our/my system, n' our/my 2 system partners, so pls don't be fuckin weird ! c:

body wise also:

. - parent . - blk/indigenous (afro american geechee + blackfoot cherokee/creek/seminole) . - anemic . - intersex . - transneumasc GNC FTM Maverique Cusper + QueerHet . - IC-DID . - Cluster B / Cluster C . - got zat ✨ AuDHD ✨ . - ✨ OCD Spectrum ✨ . - pullin up w ✨ psychotic + cluster a traits ✨ dancin w/ an ED

this blog's purpose is 2 just b my side of the internet, essentially. i reblog anythin angelcore, lovecore, coquette, 420 , fashion, early y2k, creepy cute, celebs, shows i like, shit from my culture, while talkin' abt social justices in my respected intersections! occasionally will sketch here 2 n show off my art :p tws: spirituality , suggestive content n probs +18 content under cuts , talks of trauma and ventin, hypersexuality n the highs n lows of it :')) , PDA ( i like gushin abt my boos <33 ) , possible religious imagery n weed mention. anythin else i haven't mentioned will still b tagged accordingly!

☝🏾 💢 ☝🏾 💢 ☝🏾 💢 ☝🏾 💢 ☝🏾 💢☝🏾 💢☝🏾 💢 ☝🏾 💢☝🏾 💢 ☝🏾 💢 ☝🏾 ☝🏾 💢TAPS SCREEN☝🏾 💢☝🏾 💢☝🏾 💢 ☝🏾 💢 ☝🏾 💢 ☝🏾 💢 ☝🏾 💢☝🏾 💢☝🏾 💢☝🏾 💢 ☝🏾 💢 ☝🏾 💢 ☝🏾 💢 ☝🏾 💢☝🏾 💢☝🏾 💢☝🏾 💢☝🏾 💢☝🏾 💢☝🏾 💢

BYF: - I reclaim the slurs/terms: nigga, retard, dyke, bulldyke, fag, sambo - speak in aave / ebonics unintentionally and intentionally. -I am a full time parent along side my partners, part time worker (soon will be attending college), trying to get support my partners/family out of a tough spot, so I'm always busy or stressed in some form. -Unless youre close to me and/or partners, do not call me "sis" or "shawty" even jokingly. that goes for the whole collective :/ THIS BLOG IS 18+ this is a no minor zone 4 my comfortability here! I block ageless blogs n anyone i think is weird or off puttin 4 me. Me n the block button r the realest definition of "bros b4 hoes" frfr

☝🏾 💢 ☝🏾 💢 ☝🏾 💢 ☝🏾 💢 ☝🏾 💢☝🏾 💢☝🏾 💢 ☝🏾 💢☝🏾 💢 ☝🏾 💢 ☝🏾 ☝🏾 💢TAPS SCREEN☝🏾 💢☝🏾 💢☝🏾 💢 ☝🏾 💢 ☝🏾 💢 ☝🏾 💢 ☝🏾 💢☝🏾 💢☝🏾 💢☝🏾 💢 ☝🏾 💢 ☝🏾 💢 ☝🏾 💢 ☝🏾 💢☝🏾 💢☝🏾 💢☝🏾 💢☝🏾 💢☝🏾 💢☝🏾 💢

DNI: PRO ZIONISTS, ANTISEMETIC, ANTIBLACK, ANTI NATIVE, ENDOS, PROSHIPPERS/COMSHIPPERS, DDLG/AGE KINK, RADQUEER , SAFEQUEERS, Labeled "DA/IRL" ( RECOVERING D-MISID's ARE FINE ) , OMEGAVERSE, TRANSID, ANTI-OTHERKIN/THERIAN, RTCA, ANTI RECOVERY BLOGS OF ANY KIND, TERFS, ANTI XENOGENDERS/NEOS, ANTI- MSPEC LESBIANS/GAYS, ANTI GOOD FAITH IDs ARE NOT WELCOME, . . Nor will I engage in discourse w/ it, unless its somethin i feel like I need 2 drop my two sense on somethin that i feel nobody may not have not touched on, or someone i care abt is publically involved. Other than that, i h8 gettin into discourse when the general public has already have made multiple points 2 counter a lot of misinformation w/ fax + its not always good for my health, nor the system's

Tag list:

# . 💘  .  | Preachin n servin the word   ( Spiritual uplifting talks)

# . 💘  .  | Divine creations ( Art or edits )

# . 💘  .  | Zealous Rebellion and Resistance ( Social activism ) # . 💘  .  | I'll just take the 85 2 Africa  ( Black excellence, Black Pride, Black history , anything blk related tbh ) # . 💘  .  | Before Genesis… ( Exomemories if i ever decide 2 talk abt them ) # . 💘  .  | Sorrows of the fallen ( Vents ) # . 💘  .  | Pierced by Cupid's Arrow <3 ( Partners tag <33 ) # . 💘  .  | Not safe 4 mortals ( NSFT )

# . 💘  .  | Sins of Wrath ( RANTS ) 

# . 💘  .  | Sins of Envy ( Narc lows vents ) # . 💘  .  | Sins of Greed ( Hoarding vents & talks , mentions ) # . 💘  .  | Sins of Lust (  Hypersexuality, Lewd talk, also NSFT ) # . 💘  .  | Sins of Pride ( me havin a narc high ) # . 💘  .  | Sins of Gluttony ( Recreational talks; Weed and alcohol mentions ) # . 💘  .  | Sins of Sloth ( Hyperfixation tag )

graphics by: @/willsgraphics @/silkholland @/anitalenia @/dollywons userboxes by @/killerssideblog @/sysboxes

[penebui]

I am Hani from Gaza, Palestine 🇵🇸🍉 I am talking to you with a sad and heavy heart. I have a serious injury in my foot and am unable to provide everything to my family, my wife and my children 🥺💔 Because of the siege, I hope you do not ignore me. I have 3 children, Abdullah, Salma, and Saleh.My baby was about to be born fine, but she died, and as a result, my wife became very tired or became anemic. We do not have enough money to buy milk, food, and drink for my children.I ask you to read my story on the campaign link and please support me and share my story until I reach safety 🙏 me and my family pleaseI wish you a successful and beautiful life

This man's gofundme is vetted and verified by gazavetted and femme antifada and currently only has around $2,000 when he needs $70k, only 4% of his goal. Please help this man and his family escape Gaza.

https://gofund.me/37d18e4d

I wish you and your family the best, Hani.

[dcnativegal]

In which a small, stalwart group of LGBTQ folks step OUT on the County stage...

In the midst of a flurry of mostly positive but some very negative Facebook posts on “Lakeview Announcements” about an LGBTQ-friendly Halloween party, I received a text from a friend who is a native of Lakeview:

 A small group of out gay people who live in Lakeview, and Valerie & I, the Paisley Lesbians, had gathered in June, in secret, to celebrate the 50th anniversary of the Stonewall Riots. That historical event in New York City in 1969 marked the beginning of the end of police brutality against non-straight people and is commemorated in the annual Gay Pride festivals that happen around the world. I invited the 20 or so gay people I know personally to attend, and asked a young college student who know people below age 30 to help me: that way, a younger group would feel welcome amongst the graying fairies, femmes and dykes. My church, the one I have chosen to embrace and which has embraced me, is St. Luke’s Episcopal Church in Lakeview, and there was whole-hearted approval of use the hall across to the Sanctuary. On Sunday, June 28th, a couple dozen queers and allies gathered for a potluck and had a great time. One of the older members of the community marveled at how many of us there were. Straight members of St. Luke’s also came and asked how they could be more supportive. We decided to aim for a Halloween get together, and make it open to the public, straight or not straight.

I also started a private Facebook group in which everyone who agreed to be a member was ‘outed’ only to the other members of the group as either a lesbian, gay, bisexual, trans or queer person, or a strong ally.

I’ve pointed out before that if 5% of Oregon is queer, then there are 350 queer people missing from Lake County. Those missing people grew up here, figured out they are not-straight, which is no easy task in this heteronormative world, and then decamped to more rainbow-colored pastures. Hundreds of them.

The Halloween party began shaping up nicely. I came up with a flyer:

I pasted this image into Lakeview Announcements on Facebook, the single best way to get the word out about any event in Lakeview. Not everyone uses that social media platform, but everyone knows someone who does. I also posted it on Christmas Valley 1, For Sale in Paisley, and the Bly Community Page, also on Facebook, and got almost no response.

At first, the comments on Lakeview Announcements came in with a mixture of surprise and delight. Straight people said they’d come. My flyer said explicitly that the gathering was to be kid-friendly and alcohol free. There was also some backlash.

One man did not understand that it was an all-inclusive event, and did not like that it was being hosted in a church. He objected to the party being expressly welcoming to LGBTQ as well as straight people.

Many people helped him to see that everyone was indeed invited and welcome, and, since it’s a gay friendly church that was hosting the event, he piped down.

Then there were the more problematic comments.

Yet another poster equated being gay as just another sin such as having an affair, cussing, judging or gossiping. She would still magnanimously ‘help’ me if I needed it.

Then a young gay college student chimed in:

 Hers is a defense along the lines of ‘live and let live’ while ‘helping gay kids not to kill themselves.’ (I hope I’m a therapist who ‘really understand(s).)

A (presumably) straight gal added her theology of welcome and inclusion, placing the LGBTQ among the outcasts:

 I hope ‘salvation’ in her estimation does not mean ‘straightness.’ Hard to know. But still, some love in her response.

And then there was this:

No better place to share joy, indeed.

A lesbian adds her perspective:

The next post broke my heart a little:

I eventually posted about Soulforce, a pro-LGBTQ, biblically-based resource, not so much to convince the selective readers of Leviticus (those who condemn men who lie with men but still eat shellfish and cotton blend shirts), but to reach out to any queer person who did not know there is another way to look at scripture besides the ‘gays are abominations’ one.

 Ultimately, there were 101 comments in response to my invitation, posted October 8th. The overwhelming tone was tolerance, if not joyful celebration.

 Given the minority opinions of negativity, I sent a copy of the invitation to the Sheriff in   Lakeview, asking the deputies to drive by during the party. A friend from the Paisley Book Club, who lives in Summer Lake, volunteered to act as security, and he showed up, dutifully watched everyone going in the church, and nearly froze in the 18-degree weather.  I confess that I was anxious about a protest outside the church, or some misguided cowboy aiming to rescue the children from the pedophiles. The worse-case scenario: Westboro Baptist Church would fly in to protest.

Despite my fears, the party was a success. Over 40 people came. The small children enjoyed drawing, making things with glue and paper, and pinning the stem on the pumpkin. Teenagers came, ate pizza, and played with their phones. Allies came in costume, and queer folks relaxed. Members of St. Luke’s came in costume, too. Valerie wore a onesie monkey suit. 

I am deeply relieved that there was no protest or disruption. The very first gay-friendly event in all of Lake County’s history came off without a hitch.

During the last hour of the party, a young, slender, androgynous looking person came in the door of the church and looked tentatively around. I welcomed her and asked about her costume, which was subtle. She said she was ‘just an ordinary guy’ – she’d dressed as an ordinary straight male would.  Julia Braudy noticed her and came up to welcome her. Later Julia told me that they’d met and she’d figured out this was a young lesbian. Julia encouraged her to come to the party but figured she probably wouldn’t. The fact that she showed up, was welcomed and praised, and stayed until the end, was reason enough to have spent $200 on rainbow & Halloween décor. (I kinda overdid it on the rainbows.)

Our Halloween Party got a mention in the Lake County Examiner. I would wager that this is the very first time the letters “LGBTQ”, placed exactly in that order, have been mentioned in the paper:

I shared the elaborately edited screen captures of Facebook responses to show the revelation of  where Lakeview residents are along the continuum of acceptance:  From the accepting and celebratory, to condemnation along the lines of ‘wolves in sheep’s clothing.’ In the middle were ideas like, we are all sinners, and as long as they don’t push themselves on me, I’m cool with gay people.

To which I reply:

None of the comments went so far as to say what I believe, that is, that gay folks would like to live our lives in peace, and straight people need us just as much as we need them. That the celebration of a broad continuum of gender expressions will spur on a complete renegotiation of gender roles to the point of transformation. And all like that-a-way.

In November, I put this out on Lakeview Announcements, on my own page, and on Lake County LGBTQ: the Proud & the Allies (both on Facebook.)

   I’ve seen many queer and questioning teenagers who attend Lake County High Schools, in Christmas Valley and Lakeview, as clients. I know there are many LGBTQ young people in the county, and wouldn’t it be awesome if they went away to college only to return and build up the vibrancy and diversity of this sparsely populated and economically anemic place.

We are everywhere. And yes, I’m not from here, and yet, here I am. Let’s be a more welcoming place.

­­

[nacsygen]

speaking of fashion, i feel like rambling about my boobs, and this is my tumblr, so i will.  also bc this is tumblr, i will frame my rambling about my boobs in the context of my mental health journey.

over the past coming up on four years, my mental health has had a drastic (thought not constantly) upwards trajectory, from ‘’trembling waif unable to hold a conversation without wanting to literally run and hide and/or cry’’ to ‘’wow, i just realized it’s been like two years since i felt like absolute shit for no real reason for more than, like, a day at a time. is this like...is this what being happy is like? wow!*” *”oh shit, now i have to actually live past 25...” part of it was maturing yes, bc no matter what bullshit they tell you, you’re still growing and maturing in your 20s too - and after that, too, for your whole life, really.  the idea that you should have all your shit figured out by the time you’re 22 is some kind of implied propaganda we all internalized around when they were showing us the charts in middle school that showed the average incomes of people with different levels of degrees.  and if you’re not the kind of person to have your shit together by 22 - say, you’re not neurotypical, or you’ve got un-dealt-with-traumas, or you’re just not the kind of person or at the stage in your life where post-secondary is the right fit for you, or any combination of the above, or anything else - when you DON’T have your shit together by the time you’re “supposed” to, it just feels like salt in the wound, when you’re different.  it feels - no, it IS damaging, especially if you’ve never been able to really internalize the idea that it’s O K to be on a different life path than what you’re “supposed” to be.  that is, in fact, the very thing that culminated in the worst and last (and i sincerely hope it’s the LAST) depressive episode of my life, around my 25th birthday. i feel sorry for the girl who was me from 20 to 25.  poor thing hurt a lot, and too often. but the main part of my getting better was just getting help.  or rather, my mom reaching out to do the research for me, finally recognizing that i wasn’t going to magically get better on my own and that guilt tripping and anger were not helping my crippling depressive withdrawal (and while i know that the physically disabled tend to not care for the psychologically disabled using the term “crippling”, in my case it definitely extended to the physically disabling in several very literal ways that i won’t get into here).  my mom did the research and made me make the calls.  i was very lucky that there was a low-income mental health center 15 minutes down the road.  i was exceedingly lucky in that i got an incredible counselor who’d been through it herself, herself now (then) in her late 20s, early 30s, maybe one or two levels up from where i am now. my sessions with her literally changed and quite probably saved my life.  i went from crying in every session and her gently and considerately seeing me out the back door of the office to minimize the strangers who’d see my raw vulnerability, to the sessions being the highlights of my week, with me eager to share with her my progress - to delight in finally becoming my true self again, to be vibrant, to find joy in things, to have things i could be happy to share with a professional friend. because of her guidance i learned how to change the way my mind had wired itself in a negative way, and to love myself again.  because of her i was able to move on, move out, become self-sufficient - eventuallym because of how she taught me, to take care of myself and to keep growing, to love myself the way i love the world. to be happy, most of the time, when at the time we first met, i wasn’t sure i ever would be again. to take care of myself again but i was talking about boobs and fashion, right? the thing is, i’ve had essentially the same body type, my “adult” body, since i was 13.  this body has, no matter its weight fluctuations, had proportionately significant breasts.  (a blog post about afab body image and mental health would not be complete without at least one teenaged semi-traumatic anecdote - i once when i was in eighth grade got accosted by a group of older girls in the courtyard at school before class, demanding to know what i stuffed my bra with, and getting increasingly hostile and physically investigating said bra with harsh gropes when i said i didn’t stuff it at all. this was, needless to say, humiliating and traumatic, and i didn’t wear that tight turtleneck again for years.)   the thing is this body that contains me is also exceedingly small in all other directions (except my head, i’ve got an adult human-sized head) compared to normal humanity.  very short in height, narrow ribcage, ectothermic body structure, narrow limbs, narrow hips, child-sized hands and feet, etc.  even when i was at my lowest weights, which i will always associate more with my worst depressive episodes than any kind of diet-culture positive, even when they were to my eye as flattened pancakes, i still had pretty alright boobs that i liked. but then, once i got healthy again, i naturally gained healthy weight.  it came with eating more healthily, and eating with purpose, and not just because i would die if i didn’t, and even for a depressive starvation’s not a good way to go.  it came from caring for the human animal, from realizing that i could never live with myself if i neglected a pet the way i was treating my human animal, because if i didn’t care for it, who would? eating with structure, at set times every day, and maintaining at least a mininum amount of calories needed, necessarily entailed that i would gain weight. and i welcomed that! most of my body issues when i was younger stemmed from my skinniness - i hated my fragility. i longed for and desired (in the gay way too, and probably though i didn’t realize it yet the non-cis way) and wished to be like girls with weight and heft to them, girls with thick thighs and arms, girls with muscle, girls with softness and roundness, girls with strength and solidity of frame. in comparison i felt like a ghost close to being torn to pieces in the wind, a collection of fragile bone in the shape of a person.  but that’s not who i am anymore, and that’s no longer what i fear. but at least i always had my boobs, and with them, with being healthier mentally and physically going hand in hand, i was and have been able to measure my own healthiness by their size. by cupping them in my hands and counting how many fingers it takes to go from ribcage to the edge of areola, i can measure my own growth and well-being.  they’re most of where i gain weight, and i’ve gone from two fingers and change at the worst to all four fingers plus a spare inch, besides, now, at what is currently the best. despite my current stressful situation, i am ultimately at my healthiest physically and mentally i’ve been since i was like 11.  more, even, because i’m no longer anemic.  and accordingly, my breasts are the largest they’ve ever been (not counting that time i was on birth control for a couple months, and my least tactful roommate asked if i was pregnant, and i stopped taking it because i decided crying myself to sleep every night for no reason probably wasn’t worth it).   which brings me to fashion. and boobs. i’ve alluded to here and outright stated before that i identify as somewhere between nonbinary and bigender.  all i know, really, in our limited current vocabulary, is i’m not cis female. but you know? i like my boobs. i’m pan, i reserve the right to like boobs, even love them, even if they’re on my body, even if i’m not “female”.  i live in and love and feel at home in a climate, and otherwise a culture, where female-coded dress (tank tops and short-shorts, sundresses) are far, far more comfortable than male-coded dress (heavy thick shorts or jeans, a t-shirt with an undershirt for god knows what reason - they can’t know we have nipples!!).   i reserve the right as a non-binary/bigender person (yes i’m aware that’s a contradiction in terms, so am i) to reject the idea that my physical interpretation of my presentation as leaning femme means i’m female. fuck you. you ever wore a sundress in the florida summer? you ever wore heavy khaki knee-length cargo shorts paired with sneakers and socks and an undershirt and a t-shirt in the florida summer? which would you guess is more comfortable? i rest my case. oh, i almost forgot to get to the point, which is that as my breasts have gotten more prominent, some of my favorite comfy dresses have somehow become Problematic in Public.  they are now Too Booby.  larger breasts in and of themselves, even in the same dresses but instead of with smaller breasts (that’s Fashion tm), carry with them Implications of Sexiness. Luridness.  Provocativeness.  as someone who’s had both small boob privilege and big boob sexy, this is completely obnoxious and at the same time culturally unavoidable. in my current favorite dress, which fits me like it was tailored to me despite got from goodwill, it cups and supports my breasts lovingly in its bodice and flows beautifully asymetrically down from the high waist line that is also flattering to my body type.  i love it, i absolutely adore it, i love the way it makes me look, i love the way it fits me perfectly, i love the way it makes me feel.  but it is definitely a Boobs On Display dress.  it’s so low cut in the front of the neckline, and boosts my already large breasts enough, that you can see a significant curve of underboob. and they are objectively gorgeous breasts! but this dress, having them On Display, apparently, instead of my love of its supportive and flowing embrace of my body, indicates i’m On Display when i wear it.  that’s...a little dysphobic and dysmorphic. it means i can’t wear it in any situation where i want to appear Professional, bc boobs Aren’t Professional.  it means i have to think about what situations i can wear it in and how people will judge me for it, this my new favorite dress. it means people will think i’m Lurid and Sexual by virtue of having and showing so much cleavage, while in my mind i’m just delighting in how comfortable it is and how good i feel in it.. yeah, i’m not cis, yeah, i love looking pretty, fuck me, i guess.  my last girl told me once “holy shit, you’re like jessica rabbit” after i sent her some of my favorite chest-centric selfies. i’m not bad, i’m just drawn that way. i’m not a comic book heroine, i was just born that way. except also with a gut and no ass. life is full of compromise.