#if you feel comfortable

[scientologisabethmoss]

anya weight talk diary entry 1

(trigger warning)

it’s very likely that in about a week or so, i’ll start taking zepbound. i have a lot of feelings about this, most of them incredibly positive and optimistic, but i am processing a lot right now and have a lot of feelings and opinions that i want to start writing about here.

the decision to start this journey was made in conjunction with my primary care physician and my psychiatrist. however, i’ve been thinking about taking a GLP-1 drug for at least six months now. my mom started taking ozempic in 2015 and has just recently transitioned to mounjaro, and these medications have been a godsend for managing her diabetes and helping her to lose weight.

i feel like there’s a light at the end of the tunnel, like i actually have a hope of being able to manage my obesity for potentially the rest of my life.

i’ve been trying to work through a lot of my conflicted feelings on starting this journey and taking this medication. part of me feels like a phony, like i’m turning my back on my own politics for trying to lose weight with the assistance of meds. but i feel like a martyr to my own political cause, and that is untenable for me. i can’t sustain that, body or mind.

losing weight - and needing help to do that - shouldn’t affect my own commitment against weight discrimination. and i refuse to have anyone else - especially people lighter than me - convince me otherwise.

anyway, this is just the beginning. i should probably have the prescription by the middle of next week. more to come.

[asymmetricallyanxious]

Hey! I’m gonna talk about neopronouns, xenopronouns, and nounself pronouns for a second!

Before I get started, this is not an invitation for bad faith arguments. I will be deleting bad faith comments and blocking the user who comments them. This is specifically for people who use neopronouns and people who support them/genuinely want to learn more. Anyone who wants to argue can go somewhere else with their punching down shit.

Disclaimer #2: I am a trans masc, I identify as some type of masc, I use he/him pronouns and I’ve never personally used any of the types of pronouns I’m going to be talking about. So! I am not an expert and if anyone has a genuine question or correction I’ll do my best to respond.

Now! Onto the post lol

So I’ve been seeing some things recently surrounding the use of neopronouns, xenopronouns and nounself pronouns that has made me a little upset and uncomfortable. For those who may not know neopronouns are defined as any pronouns which are not traditionally used (for English would be he/she/they/one/it) so any pronouns that is not typically used and usually it’ll be a word that was made specifically as a pronoun or a word that is not typically used as a pronoun that a person may use as a pronoun for themself. Xenopronouns are a little different and the definition is not as clear but from what I understand (lmk if I’m way off base) is a pronoun that is not usually linked to a gender identity but is more linked to the identity of a person without regard to their gender. (IE. DID alters, otherkin, etc.) and nounself pronouns are quite literally a noun used as a pronoun (star/starself, bug/bugself, fae/faeself) and can be linked to gender identity or not usually used by neurodivergent (particularly autistic people) as a more comfortable pronoun to be referred to.

Now with the basic info out of the way, I wanted to talk about the rise in punching down I’ve seen among trans people. Listen, as a trans person I understand the fear running rampant in the world right now. I understand that life feels unstable right now and many of us are holding tight to whatever we feel might help us. I also understand that my identity comes with a lot of privilege as a white skinny transmasc. That being said, that is not a valid reason to tell other people how they can or cannot be.

It breaks my heart to hear people in my community being the loudest bullies against people that are also in my community. Let me make one thing very clear: transphobes will never tolerate trans people. We make them uncomfortable, scared, and irrationally angry at every conceivable level. There is no amount of “socially acceptable” that will keep a transphobe from hurting a trans person. There just isn’t. The reason the trans community is facing so much hatred and suppression right now is BECAUSE OF TRANSPHOBES!!! There is not a single trans person in the world who was so trans they cause someone else to be transphobic. That’s not how it works. And looking more “acceptable” as a community will not change irrational hate. Ever.

People who use neopronouns/xenopronouns/nounself pronouns are doing so because it makes them more comfortable. The same way that he/him pronouns can make binary transmasc people more comfortable. The same way that she/her pronouns can make binary trans fem people more comfortable. They are pronouns. They are a language tool. They are not hurting anyone, least of all the trans community. Can it be confusing to people who refuse to try and understand? Yes! Is it uncomfy for some people? Sure! Is that a dogshit reason to look down on another human! Absolutely!

I am so fucking tired of people who should be the ones who understand continually hurting others. We cannot dictate to others who they are any more than others can dictate to us who we are. The trans community should be the first to recognize that. The transphobes WANT us to fight each other. If we fight each other and hurt each other we are making their jobs easier!

No one is forcing anyone else to befriend someone who uses “different” pronouns. No one is forcing anyone to USE these pronouns. Please for our communities’ sake stop hurting each other. Stop hurting my family. This is despicable and dangerous behavior and is actively killing people. “Stopping neopronouns” will not make them “take us seriously”. Neopronouns are not “the reason we’re losing our rights”. That is the kind of infighting that a transphobe loves to hear about, and it’s heartbreaking.

Do not do the work for transphobes. Please. For your own sake shut the hell up instead of screaming your insecurities at other people. Please, ask yourself who you’re really scared of. Please, listen to the people who are hurting just as much as you. The world is scary. And it hurts. And it kills. Please don’t make it worse.

And to all of the people out there who use neopronouns/xenopronouns/nounself pronouns, I love you. You are beautiful and worthy of respect. You are real and amazing and I wish I could take all the garbage out of the world, but instead all I have is a virtual hug and an assurance that you deserve better. Please know that the loudest voices are often the ones that are the most afraid. You are not the enemy, you are not the problem, and you will never be evil or ugly or stupid for the words you surround yourself with. You are the curator of your own breathtaking story and you do not owe yourself to anyone. Please take care of yourselves and remember you are valuable.

[spoopyloonerisms]

@aromantic-goldfishdeactivated202 please do share. I would like to know the story behind the accidental Christianity conversion, this seems amusing.

most notable times of being hit on by customers:

guy who tried to impress me with card tricks and failed every single one of them

old man who attempted to get my number when his wife walked away and slipped me his email address ending with “@ aol.com” when i said i don’t do that

cute gay couple that came back to tell me i was cute and then called the shop to ask me out

older professor who i talked to about folklore and told me he dressed as a wizard for recitals saying “this is really embarrassing but umm.. i’d love to get to know you more..” and gave me a receipt with his email address on it

dude in his 40s asking me on a movie date and me saying yes but then he kept starting text conversations with “ahoi hoi”

military guy who said it’d be hot if i killed him with a baseball bat

most notable time a customer did not ask me out:

a man who i knew had a wife and children getting really flustered and saying “um. ive been, uh.. idk if you remember me but um. i come in here a lot and ive uhhh haha umm ive been wanting to ask you for a couple weeks now.. um. have you read the green lantern issue i recommended??????”

[ganymedesclock]

I think cis people should also be their gender of choice. Like, if you're a man, you should get to really enjoy being a man- have fun with it! If you're a woman, take the parts of womanhood that really deeply make you happy. If being a little androgynous or ambiguous or hidden is the part that really makes you happy, you don't have to be trans for that. If you wanna lean really hard into being femme or masc- do it! You have one life in your body, do what makes you happy. Ditch the stuff you don't like.

My sinister queer agenda is I think that everyone should be the gender they like in the way they like it.

[roebeanstalk]

reblog to manifest gender euphoria for the person you reblogged this from

[cat-in-a-mech-suit]

Being forcefully raised as a woman is not any less traumatic and emotionally repressive as being forcefully raised as a man. Femininity is not inherently pure and safe. Coercing someone to perform femininity is not any less toxic than coerced masculinity. Being dysphoric around femininity or having trauma from women doesn’t make you a misogynist.

[inkskinned]

because sometimes there are invisible tests and invisible rules and you're just supposed to ... know the rule. someone you thought of as a friend asks you for book recommendations, so you give her a list of like 30 books, each with a brief blurb and why you like it. later, you find out she screenshotted the list and send it out to a group chat with the note: what an absolute freak can you believe this. you saw the responses: emojis where people are rolling over laughing. too much and obsessive and actually kind of creepy in the comments. you thought you'd been doing the right thing. she'd asked, right? an invisible rule: this is what happens when you get too excited.

you aren't supposed to laugh at your own jokes, so you don't, but then you're too serious. you're not supposed to be too loud, but then people say you're too quiet. you aren't supposed to get passionate about things, but then you're shy, boring. you aren't supposed to talk too much, but then people are mad when you're not good at replying.

you fold yourself into a prettier paper crane. since you never know what is "selfish" and what is "charity," you give yourself over, fully. you'd rather be empty and over-generous - you'd rather eat your own boundaries than have even one person believe that you're mean. since you don't know what the thing is that will make them hate you, you simply scrub yourself clean of any form of roughness. if you are perfect and smiling and funny, they can love you. if you are always there for them and never admit what's happening and never mention your past and never make them uncomfortable - you can make up for it. you can earn it.

don't fuck up. they're all testing you, always. they're tolerating you. whatever secret club happened, over a summer somewhere - during some activity you didn't get to attend - everyone else just... figured it out. like they got some kind of award or examination that allowed them to know how-to-be-normal. how to fit. and for the rest of your life, you've been playing catch-up. you've been trying to prove that - haha! you get it! that the joke they're telling, the people they are, the manual they got- yeah, you've totally read it.

if you can just divide yourself in two - the lovable one, and the one that is you - you can do this. you can walk the line. they can laugh and accept you. if you are always-balanced, never burdensome, a delight to have in class, champagne and glittering and never gawky or florescent or god-forbid cringe: you can get away with it.

you stare at your therapist, whom you can make jokes with, and who laughs at your jokes, because you are so fucking good at people-pleasing. you smile at her, and she asks you how you're doing, and you automatically say i'm good, thanks, how are you? while the answer swims somewhere in your little lizard brain:

how long have you been doing this now? mastering the art of your body and mind like you're piloting a puppet. has it worked? what do you mean that all you feel is... just exhausted. pick yourself up, the tightrope has no net. after all, you're cheating, somehow, but nobody seems to know you actually flunked the test. it's working!

aren't you happy yet?

[snarkspawn]

in case you were wondering, mentally I am still here

[catboy-beckett]

Kim Kitsuragi is a fascinating character because there's not that much fun or interesting or compelling about him. And yet somehow over the course of playing Disco Elysium the game rewires your fucking brain around him. He's the middest man you've ever seen in both appearance and personality but at some point he says something kind to you or something critical of you and you feel like you just got hit by a truck and you need his approval like you need oxygen and like how tf did this happen. what are you

[oars]

[milkamel]

I don't think this guy is good at handling any kind of affection let's be real 🙏

[noodles-and-tea]

I LOVE THE WAY YOU DRAW LITTLE STAN. hes just a little guy.

MY LITTLE FREE SPIRIT STANLEY!!!!!

[quixoticprince]

I haven't drawn in so long and tf2 comes back with a bat to my brain again after I first got super into it when I was *checks notes* 14 I gotta get my gears wet again and like, rediscover how to draw and I'm wetting my feet again with a heavymedic shit post 😭

------------------- EDIT: The original images contained a text post from someone who did not want that text post spread - So let's have the blank versions instead! Imagine any dialogue in there that you want lol

[mugglebornmarvelite]

Mission Mishap

Paring: Avenger! Bucky Barnes x Avenger! Fem! Reader (Grumpy x Sunshine)

Summary: A recon mission gone awry leads to Bucky having to protect his sunshine. As the snowstorm gets worse, he becomes her shelter from the storm, showing a tenderness that he rarely allows others to see.

Word Count: Roughly 1.8k

Warnings: Hurt/comfort, fluff, injury-related pain, bruising, cold exposure, mild language (like two curse words)

Author’s Note: It was snowing, and I got ✨inspired✨

This felt a little choppy because I combined two drabbles, but I think it works :)

Navigation

What should have been a quick recon in the mountains became more complicated when a snowstorm hit faster and harder than previously anticipated. You could barely keep up with Bucky as he pushed ahead, his sharp eyes scanning the nearby. The cold penetrated through your layers; gnawing at your bones and intensifying the ache of your bruises, but you forced yourself to keep moving.

"Can you handle a few more yards?" he asked, his voice low, and despite the chaos, was comforting. "Map says there’s a hostel a quarter of a mile away."

"I’m fine," you mumbled. You knew your words were merely a weak attempt to reassure both yourself and him.

Bucky turned his head toward you, his gaze softening. 

"Don’t do that," he replied. "Stop pretending you’re fine when you’re so clearly not."

The harsh wind bit at your face, and you tried to keep up with him, you couldn't hide the way your teeth chattered.

"You need to stop," Bucky said, voice sharp and authoritative. "You’re shaking like a leaf. Let me help you."

Before you could argue, he moved without hesitation, shedding his jacket in one smooth motion and draping it over your shoulders. 

"Come here," Bucky said. "No arguments. You’re freezing, and I won’t let it get worse."

You tried to protest as you stammered, "I-I’m fine. Really, Bucky, I’m fine."

But Bucky wasn’t having it. 

His glared down and you and you looked away.

"No, you’re not," he said again, this time softer. "You’re going to listen to me now, okay?"

He didn’t wait for a response. He wrapped his arms around you, guiding your arms around his neck and lifting you without much effort. You buried your face in the crook of his neck as you gave up on protesting. His body heat radiated through his sweater and the warm jacket he wrapped you in helped in instantly melting away the cold that had settled into your bones.

Bucky’s chest rose and fell under you, steady and reassuring, grounding you as the world around you spun with snow, harsh winds making it difficult to see. He held you close, his grip never wavering as if to say he wasn’t letting go, not for anything.

"You listen to me," he said said softly. "If anything happens to you out here, I’m going to be fucking pissed. Understand?"

"Noted," you said softly, your voice muffled by his neck. You tightened your grip on him, clinging to him as your life depended on it because, in a way, it did. Not that you’d ever complain.

You could feel his steady heartbeat, the way his breath slowed as he focused on getting you both to safety. His steps were purposeful, unhurried, but determined as he carried you toward the small hostel.

When you finally reached the building, Bucky didn’t waste a second. Without a word, he guided you inside and he gently set you down on a chair. The warmth of the room feeling like a stark contrast to the biting cold that had gripped you just moments before. Pun intended.

"You stay here," he commanded, his voice brooking no argument. "I’ll get us a room and call the team."

You nodded. 

As he moved to make arrangements, you wrapped yourself tightly in his jacket, the faint scent of him still lingering on the fabric. 

You winced from the pain in your side, but you manged to stay still. You looked out the window, watching as the storm raged on.

When Bucky returned, he didn’t waste any time sitting next to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you into his side. 

"Better?" he asked.

You leaned into him, letting the comfort of his presence envelop you. 

"Yeah," you said softly. "Much better. Thanks, Bucky."

"You don’t have to thank me," he muttered, his voice low, almost intimate. "I’m just doing what’s right. Keeping you safe."

You closed your eyes, allowing yourself to melt into the warmth of his embrace. "I know," you whispered, your voice quiet but filled with gratitude. "And I’m glad you’re here."

Bucky’s fingers brushed through your hair, his protective grip never faltering. "And I’m not going anywhere," he murmured.

A moment later, he scooped you up effortlessly, carrying you to the room he booked and dumping you on the bed. The sudden motion made you giggle as you kicked off your boots.

Bucky turned up the heat, and as the warmth began to fill the room, you settled onto the covers. 

"What did the team say?" you asked quietly.

"They’ll try to make it tonight," he replied. "But I told them we can wait until the morning."

You raised an eyebrow, puzzled. "Why?"

"Because I’m keeping you safe tonight," he murmured, quickly adding, "And Sam snores. I can hear him from two rooms down the hall. I’m in no rush to go home, sunshine."

You laughed softly, your eyes brightening. "You’re unbelievable, Bucky."

Bucky grinned, his usual grumpy expression softened. "Yeah, but you’re stuck with me."

"Seriously though," he said, his voice suddenly quieter, "I’m not letting anything happen to you. Not on my watch."

"I know," you whispered, your voice soft but filled with sincerity. "And I trust you."

His eyes softened, just for a moment, before he cleared his throat and pulled away slightly, pretending to be unaffected by the vulnerability in the air. 

“Hey,” he muttered, his voice hushed and rough with concern. He paused for a moment as if considering whether to push or back off. He couldn’t ever quite figure out how to balance his protective nature. But when it came to you, he couldn’t help himself. “You sure you’re okay?”

You forced a smile, shifting a little more, trying to get comfortable, but the throbbing in your side was relentless. The last thing you wanted was for him to notice. He already had enough on his shoulders; you wouldn’t let him add your worries to his pile.

“I’m fine,” you whispered. Lie.

"Bullshit," he grumbled, his voice laced with frustration, the one that surfaced when he cared too much and couldn’t fix things fast enough. "What’s the matter?"

Bucky stared at you, his eyes narrowing. 

God, that stare. 

It was like he could read every inch of your soul, and you couldn’t breathe under the weight of it.

“Talk to me.”

You shifted uncomfortably, your side flaring up in protest. You winced, sucking in a sharp breath, hoping he didn’t notice, but of course, he did. 

He always noticed when it came to his sunshine.

"My side. Just a little pain," you admitted, the bruise hidden under the layers of clothing you still wore.

Bucky’s face softened, his worry evident. Without a word, he stood up, reaching for the small medical kit in his bag.

"Lift your shirt," he said, his voice low but commanding.

"I'm fine-" You mumbled. 

But Bucky wasn’t one to back down. He crouched in front of you, his large hands already moving to your waist, his fingers brushing the fabric of your shirt with a touch that was far too tender for someone like him.

“Lift.” The word was soft, but there was a dangerous edge to it, a warning wrapped in affection. The way he said it made it clear that this was happening.

You frowned and you raised the hem of your shirt, exposing the tender spot on your side where the impact from earlier had left its mark. "Shh, sunshine." He whispers soothingly. "You're okay, promise."

Bucky’s hands were gentle as he inspected the injury, his fingers brushing lightly over your skin, and his touch was careful but sure. There was something tender about the way he looked at you as if you were the most precious thing in the world to him. It made you lightheaded.

“Doesn’t look too bad,” he muttered, though you could hear the underlying concern in his tone. “But we’re still gonna clean it up, yeah?”

 His brow furrowed, and for a moment, his expression softened into something that hurt to look at. 

Like you meant something to him.

The second his fingers brushed over your side, just lightly grazing the bruise, you couldn’t help it. A whimper escaped, and your body tensed. You hated it. Hated being weak.

“Shh.” His voice was soothing. “You’re doing so good.”

You tried to move, to escape the pressure, but Bucky’s hand was already on your abdomen, holding you gently but firmly in place. His fingers splayed out over your skin, not forceful, but steady.

“Sorry,” you muttered, your voice strained as another wave of pain hit and you squirmed.

“You don’t have to apologize,” Bucky murmured, his grip tightening just a little, his other hand reaching for the antiseptic wipe. "Just breathe for me, okay?"

Something about his voice, soft yet commanding, made the tension in your body ease just enough for you to inhale deeply, to steady yourself.

“You’re tough, sunshine,” Bucky murmured, his eyes softening even more as he cleaned the bruise. "You’ll be alright."

But his voice held a gentleness that made your heartache. As he worked, cleaning the wound, his touch was slow, deliberate. The sting from the wipe was sharp, but his hands on your skin were grounding, like he was pulling the pain out of you with every careful movement.

Every time you whimpered, every time the pain made itself known, he soothed you with gentle words,“I know, sunshine, I got you,” “It’s okay, you’re okay.”

He cleaned the wound with slow, careful movements. The cool, sterile wipe stung a little, but his gentle touch was soothing, making the discomfort easier to bear. 

“I got you.” His voice was quiet, almost a whisper. A calm anchor. “Just breathe, sunshine.”

And you did.

When he finally finished, he leaned back and reached for a bandage. He pressed the bandage against your side like he was trying to heal something deeper than the bruise, something you couldn’t name.

“Good as new.” His voice was softer now. “You’re tough, sunshine. You’ll be alright.”

You smiled faintly, your fingers brushing the edge of the bandage. “Thanks, Bucky.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He grumbled, but there was no bite to it. His gruffness was a comfort, like a wall of security you could lean against when everything else felt shaky.

“Just-” His eyes softened as he looked at you, the rare tenderness that always made your chest tighten. “Get some sleep, alright?”

You nodded, curling up under the covers.

“Goodnight,” you whispered, your voice small and soft as you nestled against him.

Bucky’s hand gently brushed through your hair, his fingers pausing to stroke your scalp in a way that made you feel like the most important thing in the world.

“Goodnight, милая девочка.” Sweet girl.

His words were quiet, a soft reassurance in the night. You let out a sigh, the ache in your side fading as the warmth of his body enveloped you, and slowly, you drifted into a peaceful sleep.

Bucky stayed awake for a while, keeping watch, making sure you were alright. But as the night drew on, he pressed a tender kiss to your forehead, making sure you were okay before falling asleep himself.

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed!

If you'd like to be added to my taglist

Much love x

- Maeve

[butchlifeguard]

we need to destroy the idea that girls should wear makeup. normalize bare faces on prom queens and flower girls and cheerleaders. no products at all instead of '7 product simple makeup routine.' no more 10 step skincare and regular facials and dermablading and gua sha just to be comfortable with yr natural face. i want to see eye bags on the funny librarian and acne on the swim coach and wrinkles on all our adult role models. i want to see a 16 year old girl that has never tried putting on eyeshadow. i want to see a 7 year old girl who doesn't have to go out and buy powder for her dance recital. i want to see trans women and girls everywhere to never have to wear makeup, regardless of how well they 'pass.' no more 'contouring to look masc' either. a post-beauty industry world is possible

reblogs are on but if you bring up the stage makeup point that i have addressed three times yr blocked on sight ☹️

[wiisagi-maiingan]

Censoring image descriptions or audio transcripts when the original isn't cemsored is always ableist. No exceptions. If a hearing or sighted person can handle what the original is saying, then so can a Deaf or blind person. Your discomfort at that fact, or at what the original is saying, does not trump accessibility.