#‘that’s not even an accurate label!’

[fitnessadvicethatfitsinyourlife]

A "calorie" is a unit of energy. "Calories" in our food refer to how much energy is technically available within. We determine that by burning food in a machine called a calorimeter which measures the energy released as it burns.

Your body is more complicated than that though. Some of the energy in your food is used to do the hard work of digesting that food. This is called the Thermic Effect of Food (TEF)

The total amount of energy you end up absorbing from any given food you eat depends on a multitude of factors including what mood you're in while you eat and the individual makeup up of your gut flora.

So when you read a food label and see how many calories it contains, if you were to just set it on fire, remember that it's not telling you the whole story of how your body uses that energy.

It's also not actually telling you the whole story of how many calories that food technically contains, because food labels can be off by as much as twenty percent.

These are some of the reasons why calorie counting can be extremely ineffective for a lot of folks. Determining your actual caloric intake and expenditure throughout the day is not so simple.

Additionally, think about what you're doing to your nervous system by creating a negative association with the energy content of your food. Energy isn't bad. We need it to live.

If you've been taught to feel a negative association with calorically dense foods (energy dense foods) then I sincerely recommend never looking at the label. It isn't accurate and it isn't showing you how much energy your body is even really getting from that food.

But it is probably putting you into a stress state, which impairs your digestion and decreases nutrient absorption (as I've mentioned before.)

[genderqueerdykes]

I saw a recent ask saying that both cis and queer places are alienating and it’s so accurate, I am a trans man who passes as cis and it’s incredibly lonely. I’m stealth and I seem like a classically masculine cishet dude, but I am inherently queer, even if I’m attracted to women, I’m queer, even if I’m masculine, I’m queer, I’ll always be queer and I always have been, but there’s just no real space for me in the queer places I go.

I have experienced misogyny based on the fact I was an unfeminine and masculine teenager, in-fact I pass so well because I have a masculine face and body shape, both things that were used against me as a teen, I was called a false girl, I was labelled both a prude and a slut, the teenage boys in my school would make sexually degrading comments towards me, about my body and my sexuality, mocking my masculinity and my failed femininity. There’s a specific kind of cruelty that you face as an AFAB child and teen who fails at femininity or dips too hard into unacceptable masculinity, and no one really speaks about it, I can’t talk about this with any cishet people because they cannot relate.

Both my femininity and masculinity were used as interchangeable blades to cut me, I could perform neither to a satisfactory level and everyone could see it, simultaneously both too feminine and too masculine and yet not enough, it felt like being put through a meat grinder to try and erase me because they couldn’t stand the fact I existed. Now in queer spaces my masculinity and sexuality are derided and disliked and it doesn’t feel any different than it did as a teen being mocked for it by cis people, the only thing that’s changed is some of the reasoning and language.

My fellow transhet men say they’re “unfortunately straight” or try and apologise for being masculine or even being men and I’m tired. My masculinity and heterosexuality are seen as deviant, they ARE queer, any version of me that isn’t a cishet feminine submissive woman is deviant, I have been deviant since birth and I will not lie about society accepting me for being masculine or straight because they don’t and they never have. If I have to hide my identity to not be oppressed or attacked then it’s not acceptance or tolerance, it’s silence and erasure. I did not sit through years of being called a not real girl tranny dyke prude slut bitch for me to go into queer spaces and be told my masculinity and sexuality are shameful, I’ve already heard that a thousand times from cishet people and I don’t care.

that sucks so bad you have nowhere to go because of how hostile people can be for no reason. for as good as people can be they can be that bad. some people are just hostile and it sucks. i hate that you have to feel that way. i don't get why. you're just trying to exist and care about yourself and other people and you're just being turned away. i wish you the best of luck. i support you.

[pyract0]

ׂ╰┈➤What's an angel if not for it's wings? Sunday x reader

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Warnings: Unspecified gender/ terms, Angst/ comfort, descriptions of nightmares and possible upsetting themes (Doubt of self worth, imprisonment, accidental harm to ones self (scratching)) ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Spent a solid few minutes trying to study certain things to get it more accurate, but half of it was just seeing the charmony dove copypasta written in every way possible 😭😭 ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ WC: 2.17k

Sunday was many things.

Sunday was a man who ruled from above like some sort of god, some sort of saviour to the people of Penacony. He was seen as a man of great power, with endless potential wherever his life decided to take him. And yet there was something he could never be... Free. It was something so far from his reach, and maybe after all this time the he was the bird that couldn't fly. Maybe all along the charmony dove from his childhood was a representation of himself, trapped in a cage and never meant to fly, bound to fall and crash. Yet maybe he was wrong, because now he wanted to fly. He realised now how misguided he was at that young age, but it was too late now. He remained trapped, victim to his own mind and the manipulation that wove through his being like vines. He stood in total darkness, his own feet a blur as he tried to escape but it was futile. A light seemed to flow from the heavens, the glow like a distant memory as it looked down at him mockingly. His body remained unmoving, forced to watch from afar. Trapped. He wanted to fly, to reach the light and free himself, but maybe it was his fate for his failures. Maybe he was never in control like he was labelled as, praised over. Sunday felt his right wing twitch, a mix of discomfort and familiarity as two young children appeared in the corner of his vision. The turn of his head was slow, deliberate and calculated despite the way his eyes widened as if he had seen a ghost. Though it wasn't far off. Two small children sat huddled beside each other, kneeling in a small patch of grass that withered around the edges as it approached him. Small wings sprouted from them both, resting behind their ears as their golden halos radiated a warm but dim glow. The smaller of the two wore a white dress, dirt collecting at the hem as she leaned against the garden beds cradling a small puff of iridescent feathers. The figure beside the small girl instead wore a white vest over his mostly pristine grey shirt, small stains splotched over the otherwise undisturbed material.

His breath seemed to catch in his throat as he observed their hunched over forms. Even if she was different now, a smaller version of her current form, he never thought he'd see her again. Robin. She had sacrificed everything for him, risked her own safety to confront one of the Ten Stonehearts to give him his chance to fly free. Yet all he had done was trap her, strip her of freedom in his twisted idea of protection. She was never weak, yet he treated her as if she was someone who needed to rely on him for solace. Maybe he had never deserved her in the first place, took her kindness for granted. Maybe it was for the best they were apart, if not for him for her. Maybe she could fly free for the both of them. He watched the two young halovians discussed something between themselves, hearing loose parts of the familiar conversation from his childhood. He watched as the small girl placed the fledgling onto the roughed up soil of the garden bed, turning to sprint out of the picture displayed to him. He was left with himself, both figuratively and literally, watching in confusion as the kneeling boy before him. This was... different. This isn't what happened. Sunday was left in awe as he watched himself change, feeling a shift in his child self's reaction as he stared at the small bird, patches of missing feathers becoming clearer to him as the small girl with lilac-silver hair returned to the scene, the image of her flickering as she entered further into the movie like display.

A enclosed box was in her arms, similar to a miniature house with a clear opening on one side that she pushed into the underside of the bush. The shelter didn't seem the most efficient against the weather bound to roll over in the winter months, but he felt his heart clench at her childlike innocence and compassion that made her shine ever so bright in his eyes. He watched the small girl scoop the fledgling into her hands, cupping them around it gently in case it started to stir in displeasure. Her small hands made their way past the entrance of the box, placing the baby in a mix of roughed up towels and synthetic feathers from their craft box. A smile crept onto the smaller boys face as he grabbed his sisters hand, happy at being able to give the tiny being a second chance at freedom, even if it was going to inevitably fail. Sunday couldn't help but look at his past choices in a new light, yet he felt conflicted as he continued to stare at the receding display before him. If he has chosen differently back then... could they have still been together? Would he have chosen a path away from the order that seemed to corrupt his every thought?

It was my fault. It was if the whole dreamscape had collapsed onto him, his own strength alone being the only support before it all came crumbling down. His throat felt as if it was closing, an irritating sting in the back of his eye as he stared into the endless void of his mind. It started as just his hands, shaking uncontrollably beneath the leather gloves that felt uncomfortably tight around his smooth skin, feeling like thorns digging impossibly deeper into his body. His wings were next, twitching at a pace that was bound to set him off sooner or later, followed by an unbearable itch at the base where they melted into his neck seamlessly. His covered hands reached towards his ears, moving past them as he began to scratch as the delicate skin. He felt his nails digging into his flesh as if they were bare, raking them over until he felt a warm liquid drip to his collar. A voice echoed through his head, a disoriented call of unfamiliar origin blaming him for everything. And he simply agreed to these accusations, taking them with open arms wishing it'd end the hurtful words sooner, yet them kept coming. They dug into his chest like a deep-rooted thorn, ripping into his heart like it was a mere nuisance in their way. Before he could drag himself deeper into his twisted thoughts, a comforting hand made contact with the back of his head. Despite the lack of any visible limb reaching out to him, the familiar twist of fingers through his silvery hair wasn't something possibly enforced by his imagination. Something so positive wasn't something he could materialise in the depths of his cage he trapped himself in.

What started as a gentle touch quickly changed to a soothing massage at his scalp, the amount of pressure clearly calculated. He could feel the tension leave him as he focused to the loving touches, the shaking of his limbs lessening as he closed his eyes. Sunday didn't feel as trapped anymore, recognising the slight pressure of the weighted blanket that pooled over his legs and lower stomach. He registered the feeling of a warm liquid sliding down his face, over his flushed cheeks. He frantically blinked his dulled eyes as he jolted to sit, hand coming to clench the material over his chest as his eyes flickered around the dark room. Golden tears clouded the corners of his vision, getting caught in his lower lashes as he tried to wipe them away. His small wings moved stiffly, coming to hide his face as the clouded feathers got drenched in the salty liquid, staining his usually pristine wings. He could feel as a hand gently came to cup his chin, pulling it to the side as an angelic voice called out to him. your voice. "Angel..? I'm sorry if I woke you but you were crying."

He gently forced his wings to lower despite his heart wanting nothing more than to hide away his pain behind a false façade he grew accustomed to wearing. He met your obviously tired eyes, yet he could tell the worry as if it had etched itself onto your face. His first thought was of how he didn't deserve you, how he didn't deserve such kindness considering his past sins. Yet even if it was selfish of him, he wanted to hold you until his final breath, refusing to lose another person he held so dear in his heart. He felt the burn of your questioning gaze as he lowered his head, nuzzling into your hand that felt his face like he was going to break. "Just a bad dream, nothing you should need to worry about."

He couldn't hide the quiver in his voice, or the way his tears began to flow again, leaving behind golden trails as they flowed down his face towards your hand. You could feel the now cooled tears as they made contact with your fingers, opting you to pull his head to lay against your chest as you shifted his body over your own. His arms snaked around your back like it was natural, grabbing at the loose material of your top like he would have as a child to his own mother. He felt the shift of your hands as they ran across the back of his head, resting near the base of his ear as you pushed his ash hair to the side. Dried blood sat stuck to his smaller feathers like glue, a sickly crimson coating the plumage like a corruption. Your nails attentively scratched at the dried substance, taking into consideration how sensitive his wings were as you untangled flakes of red from the now stained feathers. You could feel his shoulders droop as you slowly worked at cleaning and preening the small appendages, moving a hand to cradle his nape as you pulled him impossibly closer to you. Sunday's breath fanned over you as he laid silently against you, finding comfort in your presence as you attended to him.

Could you really love him after everything he's done? Could you really find it in you to accept his past crimes and still smile at him ever so brightly? He couldn't understand you, but it made his appreciation of you grow. you were too kind to him, to a monster who risked the lives of many for some selfish goal fostered into his mind. He found himself questioning a certain thought that circled in his mind, lifting his head slightly before asking you. "Why did she free me? After all I did why did she still choose to put me first?" The question caught you off guard initially, though after thinking on it for a moment you could assume her thoughts as if they belonged to you. Sunday shifted uncomfortably at the dazed look on your face, worried that you'd say something about how he didn't deserve it. Expected you to push him away and shun him for the rest of his mortal life. Yet what he didn't was a gentle smile, for your hand to move to cup his jaw as your fingers ran over his cheek. For you to place an array of affectionate kisses against his face before choosing to give him an answer he hadn't thought a possible explanation for her actions. "Even if in a different way, you still dedicated your life to protecting her. Maybe she wanted to protect you too, to give you freedom from your ties to the order."

As if one of the Aeons heard his prayer, he was able to see from a new light, away from his narrowed idea of life and it's destined fate. His face returned to your chest, nuzzling against you as you felt a warm liquid seep through the front of your top. Yet this time was different. he was happy. His wings twitched as if he was laughing, body shaking despite the lack of sounds coming from his throat as he pulled you by your waist closer to his warm frame. It finally clicked in his mind, finally able to finish the incomplete story in his mind. Even if Sunday was trapped in his own mind for eternity, even if he could never feel true freedom and never open his wings to fly free. Even if he was bound by the thorns that trapped his very being, he was happy.

Because he knew to you his lack of wings didn't change the love you gave him. He knew his inability to remove the shackles that kept him grounded, keeping him the bird that can't fly, didn't leave you regretting your choices of staying with him. No matter how different he was from the birds in the sky, he was still your angel.

Forever.

[plugboy11]

while cap tends to banter with his villains and monologue about how he’ll defeat them with his “Wedgie Power!” kipper rarely talks during battle, if at all. if he does it’s usually incredibly stern and to the point, he has very little patience for most of the antagonists’ bullshit half the time and just wants to get it over with as soon as possible so he can go home and put some clothes on

[startixx]

i needed practice drawling wings lol

BIBLICALLY ACCURATE P03!?.!

also one of my characters at the top i recycled to be a inscription oc i guessHELEP

[schneiderenjoyer]

The reason the whole age discourse is confusing is that bluepoch keeps pulling shit like THIS.

[stacksattack]

just got a very unsavory follower so obligatory post about this

[wayfinderships]

Goodnight gamers! <3 If you didn't have a good day today, I hops that tomorrow will be a better day for you <3

As for me, I was thinking about the fact and I'm trans and how my f/os love that part of myself and are so supportive. For the longest time, I had a fear that they wouldn't like me because of that. Like they'd be disappointed somehow. But then I remember that they'd never do that and they love me sm <3

[fuckdamn]

everytime i’m faced with wild overt misogyny that’s just platformed like it’s nothing i remind myself that people don’t actually have to feel this way about women. men are fully capable of treating women like human beings and viewing them as such. “but socialization but male fantasies but patriatchy speaks through us even when we don’t recognize it” sure but actually regardless there exist men who are fundamentally not raging misogynists and they generally seem happier and better adjusted. misogyny to me isn’t disappointing because “oh i can’t believe Men, as an essentialized category of person, are like this” it’s disappointing because people make the choice to be like this. “it’s my biological imperative as a man to dominate you” okay well it’s my biological imperative as a freaky bitch to dominate you so what now. what biological imperative is making you comment “onlyfans detected opinion rejected” on every picture of any attractive woman. i think i will always be understood by most people as a woman and i’m learning to accept that and trying to like it but misogyny makes me feel very trapped of course. but misogyny is a choice. which means some people make the choice to be misogynistic which is profoundly frustrating. but many other people choose not to be actively misogynistic and i believe anyone could choose not to be actively misogynistic if they wanted. so it’s a whole thing

[gendiebrainrotreceipts]

In conclusion transphobia is 1. Facts 2. Having boundaries 3. Asking questions 4. Something no one says

And what is a girl exactly?

Ah yes our ‘made up definition’ rooted in material reality, science and acknowledged by the vast majority of society, and the ‘many definitions’ that only you and your friends recognise

Weren’t you just saying men and women were social not biological terms?

Apparently terfs can occasionally be confused with 10 year old children with a Harry Potter obsession

Yes because no one is trying to transition ‘cis’ kids.

…So do you like the word cis or not?

If girls can have male bodies, what is a girl to begin with?

No they’re a biological reality…kinda like being male or female..

So women yeah…

[flowers-inverted]

Just randomly remembered that time in high school I told a girl I was asexual and her response was "but have you tried it?"

Bruh it doesn't matter. Asexual means lack of sexual attraction. Ace people can participate in such activities and enjoy them. Its whether or not you expirence a certain type of attraction not if you enjoy an activity.

Shoulda told her that 🙂‍↕️

[guiltyidealist]

I cannot STAND the shipcourse label terms.

Rant.

"Anti-ship". "Pro-ship".

They're such fucking misnomers for what they're actually referring to that it's not even CLEAR what they're actually referring to.

I struggle to even apply any of this shit to myself. Labels serve as a concise way to communicate something. A label has failed to function as a concise descriptor when it does not describe what you want it to.

Put the shipcourse connotations to these words aside for a second. Just take them for their literal, face-value translation.

I'm not """anti-ship""". I'm not fucking against shipping. Nor am I """pro-ship""" per se?? I'm shipping-positive and shipping-favorable -- like sex-positive and sex-favorable, I'm good with other people doing it and I like doing it -- but not indiscriminately???

There are ships I dislike and there's nothing about it related to ethics. "Anti-ship" and "pro-ship" are such absolutist fucking terms, black-and-white and binary and un-nuanced, "this or that".

But here's the thing: these words don't just mean "how you feel about shipping". Shipping is hardly the tip of the fucking iceberg. A small, singular, surface-level facet to a deep and complex issue related to art, reality, human relationships, and responsibility.

(And that's problem #2 with the labels: encompassing a fraction's fraction's fraction of what this is really about and making it sound like petty fandom bullshit instead.)

What it's really about is portrayal of sensitive and fucked up matters in fiction, and of how to engage with it. It's about what's healthy and what's not. It's about what's ethical and what's not.

It's about boundaries; the line between fiction and reality, the line between artists and their works, the line between creator and audience.

It's about the nature of art, the nature of the relationship between an artist and their artwork, the nature of the relationship between artwork and those who view it. It's about art as a medium through which interaction occurs simply by one person creating it and another perceiving it.

It's about responsibility and accountability. It's about the placement of responsibility and accountability in the artist-viewer relationship. Who is accountable for what. Where does the artist's due diligence end, and where do the viewer's discretion and critical thinking begin. Who takes credit or blame for what.

It's about consequences and who receives them. It's about how art reflects upon the artist, and how it doesn't. It's about what it means to create, to bring something forth to the world and to put it out there to be perceived and judged and acted upon.

I ran out of spoons but. TLDR: shipcourse labels suck so much -- dysfunctional and counterproductive, misleading, wildly failing to capture stances in the real issue at hand -- and we should stop using them actually

[tuesday-is-a-good-day]

FWIW: If you're uncomfortable with someone who is just "ship and let ship, regardless of what ships I personally like" (proship), that's not a good thing. Proship is a response to the word antiship, which means "against shipping whatever people want." Anti=against. Pro=in favor of. It's basic english.

If you think it means "problematic", please block whoever told you that because it's not true. Just go into any space for fandom olds or AO3 and ask them.

FWIW, i really don’t care what you — a stranger — has to say about my boundaries. I know what proship means, I know what antiship means, and I do not care.

My stances on fiction are not dictated by reductive and distorting labels. I recognise that there is an area for moral exploration in fiction, I know that fiction and reality are seperate places which interact in a number of ways, and i know that liking something in fiction doesn’t mean that you support it in reality.

There’s a more complicated discussion to all of this, about where the line between fiction and reality lies and just how clear it is, but at the end of the day the way I interact with fandom and what I am comfortable with is up to me to decide and enforce, thanks lol.

[averinthine]

been thinking that maybe i was right the first time when i identified as asexual back in the day

[dykesbat]

i think gender/sexuality labels are beautiful and they’ve brought me a lot of peace and happiness but i also feel like ppl put wayyyy too much importance on labels w/o like properly discussing how they’re not like a clinical diagnosis we will or won’t fit in yk.

[nepsah]

yeah ok fuck it im gonna upload this bad boyyyyy anyway

its still a WIP but it gets the point across for my brain while i'm tryna make sure people are going in directions and traveling distances that actually make sense lmao

(made with wonderdraft, with mostly vanilla assets but the fields are from readyartz on cartographyassets)