#THEY WERE FRIENDS IN SPITE OF IT ALL. THESE PEOPLE WHO REJECTED SOCIETY STILL CRAVED COMMUNITY SO DESPERATELY

[hella1975]

listened to american pie while thinking about the league of villains do NOT fucking talk to me

[plush-rabbit]

I Want To Hear You Say It

Chapter 6: Pitiful Reflections In The Mirror

Word Count: 3.2K

A/N: If you’re still reading this, I’m so sorry for the long wait

Prev.

You can feel eyes on you. Never blinking, always watching, you feel something- or more accurately- someone watching you. It could be all in your head. Of course it would be all in your head- he doesn't have the time to watch you. And, from what he told you, his friends, or rather teammates, don’t know about you either. You’re still not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. But, it doesn’t matter. You realize that. No matter what happens now, all of it is out of your control. Freedom will always be a mockery to you, you can go and hang out with friends, work, lay around in your home, but it won’t ever be your home, you can’t ever go and hang out with your friends with the certainty that he isn’t watching, that he isn’t lurking in your home and peeking through your thing, you can’t promise to yourself that he doesn’t have connections to the real world, to the civilian world or hero society. You’ll always be watched, never a moment of peace, always fearful that he could be watching you. You can’t ever be yourself alone, you can’t lie in bed and waste the day away. It makes you sick. You want to vomit, you can feel your stomach churn but you are unable to do anything about it.

The only silver-lining to this is that he cares for you- in his own way and not the way that you dreamt of when you would consume media. He promised he wouldn’t hurt you. Right? You frown. You can’t remember if he did that or not. You can only remember his eyes. Those red colored eyes, unforgiving, murderous eyes that are stained with blood, eyes that hold false innocence when he looks at you. A part of you wonders if you would have actually liked him if he weren’t himself but you quickly scowl at the thought. You don’t want to romanticize him. You don’t want this situation to be painted with pink.

It’s all too much too soon. It’ll always be like this. You want to ask him more. You want to know why. You want to pass him off to someone else and make it their own problem.

Thunder booms outside, a deep rumbling that always comforts you and it still does. You stare at the sliding door that leads to the small balcony. Water drips against it, soothing and constant, a steady pace that does not falter and does not pick up speed. The movie you were watching on your laptop has been paused long ago, the killer’s face frozen on a screen that slowly dims and goes black, your reflection against it. If you try hard enough, you can hear the drips against the formed puddles. There is only silence, the clock in the room tics and tocs, the time moving forward, staring at you, the eyes of the cat-shaped clock moving back and forth. You rise from your seat on the couch and walk towards the sliding door, the blanket wrapped around your body and you think for a moment that things are okay, that what is going to happen, is something for you to worry about in the future. Water races down to the base of the door and you cheer internally for one droplet, smiling when it merges with another and gains speed.

For just a moment you are alone. You think that whatever he has or has not implanted in your home- small cameras, listening devices, anything of that sort- does not exist. Your lips are dry and acid pools in your mouth and burns your throat. The rain is soft, beating against the earth as people scurry home. You see children clad in raincoats and rainboots, splashing against the puddle and enjoying their youth, you see lovers walk hand in hand, you see the lone person with an umbrella held tight in their hand. In the reflection, you see yourself- heavy eyes fresh with unshed tears, worry-bitten lips and a sickly glow around you.

“I,” you start off slow and break the tranquility in your home, “I need to write down a list of questions.” You lose your breath quickly, huffing and puffing by the end of your sentence. “It’s-” you want to find out more about him but you can’t even say the words out loud- “I’m insane.” You stare at your reflection, and it’s becoming harder to breathe. “I can- I can go away. I can reject and scream and cry. I can pound on the walls and call for a hero.” Your voice cracks and tears pool in your eyes. “So why don’t I?” Why don’t you? What’s stopping you? “He isn’t here right now. I can-” your voice falls into a low whisper- “I can do something.” You cry and it feels like a waste. You are unable to find a reason to push away from him even though the reasons are clear. You feel sorry for the man that you saved from the streets, bleeding and unable to fight back. You thought that he was cute and thought about him, you let him stay in your home and you reason to yourself that it’s valid to want to find out more about him, but all the same, he is a villain, he has eyes red like blood and pale skin adorned with scars, he has rough hands that grip you with an unwavering hold and lips that are cracked. He is someone full of pain and cruelty, and yet, he promises nothing but love towards you.

You stagger back to the couch and you have to close your eyes. You can’t stare at your reflection- you can’t bear to see yourself deteriorating away. You can’t look at how utterly alone you are. You curl in on yourself and let tears fall and this is all your fault. You don’t know what’s stopping you from seeking out help. You don’t know why you convinced yourself to not tell a soul. You don’t know why you have to be so alone right now. You have no one to talk about this with. You sob and turn your head so your tears catch on the cushion of the couch, the blanket pulled tighter around your body and you are alone in this. You are alone for the cold and rainy night.

Your door creaks open and you don’t know whether to sit in your pitiful state, to hope that the intruder feels uncomfortable enough at the site of your brokenness to leave or if they would put you out of your misery. The door shuts and you close your eyes and bite the insides of your cheeks until it’s painful, the soft flesh tearing when you tighten your jaw. You whimper and hug yourself closer and you can hardly breathe and you don’t know what you hope for, what is a better option- for him to show up and try to comfort you or an intruder to commit a heinous crime. You’ve cried about being alone and now that someone has stepped into your home, you fear the attention and comfort of another.

The couch creaks and hands touch your face, cloth and skin that mix and catch your tears and you’re staring at him, red eyes that stare at you and his mouth moves but you are unable to hear. Confusion must linger on your face and he’s rubbing his thumb over your cheeks, catching tears. His ring and pinky fingers are clad in black, his nails painted black as they drag against your cheekbone. The fabric is soft, tracing against your jawline as it catches fallen tears.

“Did someone hurt you?” You shake your head “no”. “Was work difficult?” Another negative answer. He sighs and his head dips down. Your crying has gone from sobbing to snivelling. “Are you overwhelmed? With this-” he clears his throat- “our relationship.” He’s so careful with his words and you can only nod your head. He’s silent and you’re terrified. You don’t know who he is. You rescued an injured man, thinking you were doing a good thing, that you were putting something good out in the world but you couldn’t have thought that this would happen. That he would be a villain.

He’s quick to wrap his arms around you and you’re stiff for just a moment with wide, fearful eyes as you squeal in shock. He’s warm and smells like rain, droplets of rain lingering against him and your need for comfort takes over as you immediately fist your hands into his hoodie, pushing yourself closer to him. You lay your head on his shoulder, facing his neck that is lined with faint scars and red lines. You breathe in heavily, the scent of rain and musk filling your lungs. His hold on you is tight as you lay against him gasping and whining when he shuffles under you, pulling you closer to him, legs bumping into each other, and he’s nothing short of polite, hands still as they rest on your back, never sliding below your shoulder blades.

Maybe there’s something wrong with you. There has to be. Because just as he finally settles, you lean towards him. You tell yourself that it’s only because you’re human and you’re in a vulnerable state and you crave the contact that he gives you, you crave the only comfort you’ve received in a long time and you cry softly tears burning as they trace down the curve of your face.

You open your mouth to speak, but he’s quicker than you are. “You always cry because of me.” You can’t deny that. “Have you ever cried like this before?” His words are tight, holding back anything spiteful that he can say and you can feel the press of his hands push deeper into you. You’re unsure if he’s trying to steady himself or try to warn you of your next answer.

Your eyes open, only meeting black and the soft, pale blue of his hair and you nod your head. “Yeah, probably.” The blanket is heavy above you. “Maybe not for the same reason but I have.” Maybe if he weren’t a villain you could have liked him as well. You may not be a romantic, but you can appreciate the tropes when you’re faced with them. “Tomura?” You still call him by his name. His name is nice, you find it to be pretty, and you want to believe that he wouldn’t hurt you, that he would keep his promise.

“Yes?” His arms are tight around you, outside of the blanket and you worry that he is cold.

“Why did you visit?” He walks in, comes into your home acting as if he is welcomed, and you lay above him. A part of you wants to continue crying, to reach a part of his humanity and have him leave you. Another part that you don’t want to recognize, believes that liking him will be much easier. That it will be easier than having this continous stream on mental torture. “This- I could have put a trap or something. Let you be caught by the authorities so I wouldn’t have to deal with you.” You roll your lips, wetting them with your tongue and you hold onto him as if he is your lifeline.

“I missed you.” You hate how your body heats at the words. You were sure that if it were anyone else, you would have flushed and hugged the person back, but instead you lay there with furrowed brows. His chest rises with an inhale and dips with an exhale. “I don’t think I’ve ever loved anybody or felt the way that I feel for you for anyone else.” His heartbeat quickens and you wonder if he’s aware that you can feel it, that you can hear the pulsing, the thump in his chest as it echoes in your ears. “It’s an odd feeling. I mean it when I say that you showing me kindness made me fall for you. It’s a sickness that I don’t understand. I don’t want to kill you, I don’t want to let you go. You’re so pretty and I just want you to stay with me. Do you remember when you brushed my hair?” You nod and he continues. “Do you remember what you said about being a good person?” You whisper a soft “yes”. “That’s why I keep coming by. I know you wouldn't have contacted them. I’ve put so much trust in you that I’m sure you would never break it. I’ll keep watch over you just to make sure you’re safe because I trust you.” Your heart beats against your chest, and heat flames against your body. “I want to tear this hero society down, to have it burn and crumble under me and the ones who follow me. I want nothing more than to rid the world of heroes.” For some odd reason, you don’t find his words chilling. You blame it on the exhaustion. “But I want to protect you. To keep you safe, perched on my lap, protected and pure.”

You stay silent and so does he. He offers no more words, no more words of persuasion, or declaration of love. You think that this would be a nice parting, to have him tell you some spiel about he has to leave you to keep you safe, but, for the first time in a long time, you’ve been offered comfort, you’ve been offered love and it’s warm and addicting and when you think of him leaving, it hurts. It actually hurts. And so, you pull yourself closer against him, fixing the blanket and he stays quiet, his eyes watching you until you fix the blanket and drape it over your body, and over his arms. He’s silent, and when you fix yourself above him, lowering your body until it’s flushed against his, he turns to his side and you go on yours, and you hold onto the faded black sweatshirt that smells like cheap alcohol and cigarettes.

The rain fills the room and you can hear your phone vibrate, it's muffled and low, and while you have curiosity, wondering who it could be so late into the night, you also don’t want to move. He wants to keep you safe. He’s intimidating, stalking towards you, watching and you know that he has killed, you know that his hands reek of death, that the ash of the world is embedded in him, staining his soul and being with everything bad, but he promises to keep that away from you. He holds you and instead of fear, it’s an odd relief that makes you feel weightless, stomach light and shoulders loose, tears finally dried in a room that flashes bright, white light. To anyone who were to peep into this moment, they would see two lovers embracing, chest-to-chest, arms around each other, blanket covering both, and you’re against the cushion while he teeters on the edge, he keeps you safe from the cruel fall to the floor. You can feel his lips tentatively press against the top of your head, and you don’t fight the smile that rises. You don’t try to bite it down, you accept that it’s easier to love him, to befriend that lonely individual who offered you a shoulder, someone who would understand you, someone who has shown to have no grievances as you talk about him.

“I… I think it's easier to hate you than it is to love you,” you whisper, a tightening in your throat as you let the words out. “There are so many reasons to dislike you, you know? You’re cruel, you’re mean, you’re a villain, you’ve killed people.” You lick your lips and you’re unable to find more reasons. You don’t know him, and you fear that when you do, you’ll start to fall for him.

“Anything else you want to add?” He questions, his voice matching yours. You can feel his eyes on you. “I won’t get mad at you. I know you would have been less than willing for this relationship so the least I could do is answer any of your questions or hear you out.”

Tomura Shigaraki holds you, and it’s comforting. He’s tall and lanky, thin arms that are covered with faded black, hold you, and you are kept safe, long after you’ve fallen asleep. He forces himself to stay awake, wanting to relish in the moment for seconds longer. He wants to hear the soft breaths, wants nothing more than to hold you, to let the memory cement in his head that you chose to fall asleep beside him, that you kept him under the same blanket as you sleep in.

All the questions in your mind suddenly blip out of existence and you lie there with closed eyes, sleep clinging onto you in it’s thick grasp. You can only think of one question, one thing to satisfy you for the night where you’ve accepted Tomura’s presence. “What’s going to happen? I mean- what happens to-” you pause, trying to find the correct word, “us” feeling too strange and “relationship” not yet something that you are ready for- “whatever we have if you get caught?” Your heart slows and your stomach drops. “Or what happens if I get caught? I don’t think I could survive prison,” you mutter, “I like bubble tea a bit too much.”

His hold on you tightens by a smidge. “I won’t get caught. I’d rather than have that happen.” A chill runs down our spine at his words. “And if you get caught, you lie between your teeth. You tell them I blackmailed you and if that doesn’t work, I’ll get you out of prison.” His hand finds yours, cloth and calloused fingers against yours as he holds it tight. “I’m not going to let you rot in there. I’ll find a way to break you out of anything. I promise.” His thumb runs over yours as if to solidify the promise. You nod your head, a yawn tearing through your body, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “Are you tired?” You nod, shifting yourself against him, your leg sliding in between his. “Get some rest. I’ll protect you.” His lips are against the crown of your head. “It’s been a long night for you, I’ll stay here and keep you warm.”

-

You awake without Tomura, blanket pulled up to your shoulders. You awake alone. Your phone buzzes, muffled and heavy sounding, with a heavy body, your arms and legs kick from underneath the blanket, and by the time you’ve made your way out, the buzzing stops.

Surprisingly, you are fine. You are groggy, but you are fine. You are warm, body still heavy with sleep, mind finally starting to awaken and you are okay. That’s the thing that surprises you the most. You understand that he wouldn’t hurt you, that has finally gotten cemented into your head and it fills you with a different kind of relief. You’re glad to know that you are under his protection, you’re glad that for whatever will happen in the future, you’ll be protected in a way that matters to him. You rise slowly and stretch your arms over your head, the sun shining through the blinds and the birds singing a sweet song as you rub the sleep from your eyes.

[some-cookie-crumbz]

Hello 👋🏼, sorry if I’m bothering u but ever since the recent chapters of BNHA I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the Todoroki family. Not many of my friends are into this anime and I just couldn’t stop myself from sharing this with you because I need to let this out.

[SPOILER ALERT 🚨!!! IF U DONT READ THE MANGA THEN U CAN JUST IGNORE THIS]

First of all:

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!!!

(I’m still screaming as I write because the backstories RUINED me.)

Poor Touya having this horrible obsession over heroics and having his father acknowledge him but ever since his quirk started reacting against his body the whole family got negatively affected by it.

Rei and Enji wanted to stop at two kids but with Touya’s sudden disadvantage and the latter’s craving for power, Natsuo and later on Shouto was born (the youngest getting titled as the perfect heir from the moment he was born). I got torn seeing Touya’s eyes succumb to absolute madness at the birth of his younger brothers.

What scared me the most was how when it was just Touya and Fuyumi, the two hardly interacted despite being only a year apart in age. Touya claimed that ‘girls just don’t get it’ this small foreshadowing was later brought to light in the most recent chapter where he once again rejects Fuyumi’s company in favour of ranting to only Natsuo and where he disregards his own mother— another ‘girl’ that doesn’t understand his obsession passion for surpassing All Might and someone who plays along to the acts of those stronger than them. Touya saw his mother as a weak person who had no choice but to marry for the sake of her family and have custom children. Little Touya firmly believed his very existence depended on getting acknowledged my his father and defeating All Might but it sadly didn’t come true😭😭

Also..... LOOK AT THE BABIES!!!! They’re all so CUTE!!!

Chubby Fuyumi!!!

Natsuo with a running nose

And Baby Shouto with a meme like face since the day he was born🤣🤣🤣🤣

So ADORABLE!

And another thing. FUYUMI WAS EVEN YOUNGER THAN I THOUGHT TO HAVE STARTED ACTING LIKE A SECOND MOTHER TO HER BROTHERS!! Look at the way she defended Natsuo when Touya went on a rampage and tried to attack Touya! And during moments when Enji and Rei fought the two most notable heroes were Shouto and Fuyumi; the former fighting on the frontlines to face his father while the latter stood behind to once again care for her remaining family that though weren’t involved in the fight, they still needed emotional support to get through it.😭

I AM SO SORRY TO BE GETTING TO THIS SO LATE ANON BUT I HAVE SO MUCH TO SAY!!!

TW: Spoilers, Brief Mention of Child Abuse (Physical, Emotional and Mental), General Fandom Wank

So, like, SO MUCH HAPPENED in those chapters and I ABSOLUTELY LOVE ALMOST ALL OF IT! There’s obviously all the things you mentioned above that were just amazing to see and learn! I know that a majority of the fandom has been absolutely livid about the reveals involving Touya being drastically different than what fandom thought they were all this time, but I think it honestly highlights how smart Horikoshi’s writing really is.

In Shoto, we see the effects of physical and mental abuse on a child, and how easily he could have ended up going down a troubling road much like Touya. Shoto’s saving grace is facing off against Deku in the Sports Festival, giving him an outside perspective and makes him realize that he can choose to be better, but that doesn’t just magically fix all of Shoto’s problems. Shoto still struggles with his feelings towards his Father and how he is perceived by simply being Endeavor’s son. We see that in the Provisional License Arc, where Shoto is so thoroughly rattled by Inasa. It’s even further pushed through how Shoto struggles with his feelings about Endeavor trying to better and whether or not he should forgive him. I feel like Shoto’s arc is incredibly strong and that his struggles are very realistic, which is why people love him so much. This whole concept is another thing I could rant about but I’m going to leave it here.

Meanwhile, with Touya, we see the effects of mental and emotional abuse on a child and how it can completely destroy them. I think people that act like Horokoshi “down played” and “ret-conned” Endeavor as a character to make him more sympathetic/ redeemable or that he’s simply writing Touya as “always being a bad seed” are missing the mark. This is, admittedly, something you see a lot when it comes to victims of abuse in the real world as well; the idea that if you weren’t physically or sexually abused on top of emotional or mental abuse, your abuse is somehow less “valid.” Now I’ve seen more voices speaking out against this mentality - which is relieving and positive - but it’s still a problem. The way Touya was abused is no less valid or scarring to himself as a person as what Shoto has been through was. Touya and Enji clearly had a deep bond as father and son. Hell, the fact that Enji is sobbing and saying he “can’t fight his own son” in regards to Touya, but clearly had less issue training Shoto until he got ill or passed out says a lot.

Touya was put on an incredibly high pedestal by Enji’s constant praise and attention. He was the apple of his father’s eye until the limitations of his Quirk were discovered. Enji had filled his head with promises and goals for what his future would be, essentially selling him what turned out to be a lie. We see Rei herself tell Enji that Touya “knows you expect something out of the kids.” Touya’s whole life up until that point was being told of all the great he would someday accomplish, and equating that to being deserving of his Father’s love, attention and affection.

And then he couldn’t live up to that expectation. And then his parents had two more kids following that revelation. The idea that Touya doesn’t realize that Natsuo and Shoto were meant to be his replacements - unbroken models that “deserved” Enji’s love - is clearly not missed by him. It’s evident in the way he looks at Natsuo after he’s born. He sees this as a sign that he is no longer deserving - no longer worthy - of love or support from the parent he absolutely adores.

We see this mostly from Enji and Rei’s perspectives, so we know the reasons they did it, but it’s clear they didn’t stop to think about the way this would be interpreted by Touya himself. This whole matter is only worsened by the fact that Enji refuses to make sacrifices for the sake of his oldest son. He pushes Touya to live a life outside of Pro Heroics while Enji himself refuses to do the same, thus setting a positive example and showing solidarity with his son. He instead pushes him away and distances himself, loses himself in focusing on Natuso and, once his Quirk turns out to not be what he wants, Shoto. Touya continues to push himself despite his limits in a desperate bid for Enji to look at him the way he used to; with pride and love. 

What caused the fire that “killed” Touya? His anguish over being neglected and abandoned - left unloved - by his father yet again. It’s clear that Touya’s mental health is in need of some real focus that he has never gotten - due to both his parents negligence as well as the fact that mental health is highly stigmatized in Japanese society - and pairing that with the emotional and mental abuse he suffered at Enji’s hands broke him.

So many people are claiming Horikoshi is trying to make Enji “more redeemable”, but how do you get that? Enji abused Rei, his own wife, physically and emotionally and mentally until she had a psychotic breakdown, hurt their youngest child, and then robbed her the right to mother her children further by having her locked up in a psych ward for the next decade or so; built their oldest son, Touya, up only to then emotionally and mentally abuse him to the point he damn near killed himself in a frantic bid to garner Enji’s support only to return years later completely unhinged and looking to murder his entire family out of spite; neglected Fuyumi and Natsuo to the care of each other and hired help; alienated Shoto, his youngest son, from his siblings for his entire formative years, physically and mentally and emotionally abused him, groomed him to accomplish a task he never wanted, put him through such extensive physical training that Shoto would get sick or pass out.

Enji was a shitty father. He has a long ass road to continue walking if he ever wants redemption. The fact he didn't physically hit Touya doesn’t mean that Enji didn’t abuse his son and it doesn’t make Touya any less of a victim.

* End TodoFam Rant*

On a slightly lighter note, I also like all the information with Hawks’ past and all the parallels we’re seeing develop!

I’ve rambled briefly about this in other places the Huwumi discord but I want to expound upon this a bit more here.

I feel like Touya/ Dabi and Keigo/ Hawks are meant to be parallels to one another.

Back to back, we had proper name claims by these two characters. We had Dabi reveal his true identity as Todoroki Touya and then we have Hawks choosing to abandon his hero name to instead step up to fight as Takami Keigo.

I feel like “Dabi” was always a mask, of sorts. Dabi is typically pretty calm, cool, composed with the occasional bites of snark and cruelty. Meanwhile, we see Touya emoting and moving in a manner more akin to himself as a child, dancing about in manic delight over revealing his true identity and intentions. The pair of them are two drastically different people when you stop and look at it. “Dabi” was the mask he wore to gain ground to enact his revenge, and now that he is there? Now Touya can burn everything tethered to it down to ground.

Meanwhile, we have "Hawks” as he was forced to become as per the Hero Public Safety Commission. We had it revealed quite a while back that Hawks was a man of many faces, jumping from laid-back and chill to serious and focused quite frequently. “Hawks” is the presentation for the public and the Commission, groomed to be the perfect little canary in the mine that was Pro Heroics. The reveal of his true heritage, however, is not the killing blow Touya wanted it to be. Instead, it allows Keigo, the one who wanted to be a Hero to help people, the chance to truly dedicate himself to that. In being freed from the cage of “Hawks”, he is given the change to really soar as Keigo.

Now, I feel that “Dabi” and “Hawks” are most certainly parts of Touya and Keigo as well, respectively. Even though those titles were masks, they were masks made from parts of the men who wear them. I think what we’ll see going forward is the true elements of those masks bleeding back into the whole, and seeing the truest forms of each character.

For better or for worse. 

[bookandcover]

Our monthly book for our family’s Anti-Racism Book Club, Sister Outsider is a collection of essays by foundational Feminism theorist and activist poet Audre Lorde. It was interesting and illuminating to appreciate, as I read, that these essays were penned and published between 1976 and 1983 because so many of the concepts Lorde explores are central to how race, gender, and sexuality are discussed, in academia and in activism, today. Most notably, in my mind, are her descriptions of intersectionality and how intersectionality operates in each life, shaping our perspectives and experiences. Lorde doesn’t use the term “intersectionality,” but this is what she so profoundly describes, as she advocates for unity through diversity (and not “in spite of” or “by erasing” differences). She offers an incredible message of hope. The task she sets to all of us is not an easy one, but it’s a powerful one and one she deeply believes in: through seeing each other more fully, through understanding the intersections of someone else’s complex identity and where that identity does or does not overlap with our own, we can find shared humanity and shared conviction to fight for change.

Audre Lorde is Black, female, lesbian, and the mother of two children. Her perspective and experiences are shaped by these different aspects of her identity, and she explains how each part of her multi-faceted identity has placed her outside of society’s “norms” in a variety of contexts. Even within sub-communities, she has found herself on the outside because of one of her identities. She describes how, when hoping to attend a Feminism conference for queer women, she wasn’t sure how to attend and care for her teenage son, as no boys over age 10 were allowed at the conference. Lorde’s identities do not have a “hierarchy of othering” nor are they separable from each other. Through these essays, she shows how these identities are linked, yet one may be more central to certain experiences than others. She identifies with women across the Feminist movement, yet her Blackness is often misunderstood or blatantly judged by white women. She identifies with Black men struggling against racism, and speaks about Malcolm X and Martin Luther King Jr., but she’s repeatedly othered and traumatized by the violence against Black women perpetuated by Black men. She speaks out about the violence and hatred from Black people directed at other Black people and she does a lot to explain and examine “internalized racism” (another term that she describes without using this exact wording, and yet it’s a concept that’s important in race discussion today). I wondered whether Lorde is credited with developing these concepts, and how other thinkers built on her ideas, and where the specific terminology itself came from. I’ll do some more digging.

In our family discussion, my sister pointed out how much she liked the part in the Introduction—written by a white, Jewish, Lesbian mother—in which the author explained that Lorde’s explanation of and examination of her intersectional identity allowed the author to examine her own. Although these two women’s identifies are not the same, the act of intersectional thinking and awareness  that Lorde demonstrates allowed the author of the Introduction to better think about these things in herself and to process how to discuss her complex identity with her son. I found this to be such a poignant point—that intersectionality can function as a tool. It doesn’t mean we need to identity with Lorde’s perspective in a specific sense (and the majority of readers will not be able to, having their own identities that are complex, but different than Lorde’s) but we can identify with her ways of thinking about identity. We can learn from her methodology and apply it to ourselves and to our interactions with others. There are a lot of aspects of our intersectional identities that we take for granted on a daily basis. These are the ones that align with the “norm,” the privileged identity in America, and therefore are those we are not forced by others to repeatedly be aware of…the world is designed to fit those aspects of identity. But that doesn’t mean we should not actively examine these aspects of identity as well, and I feel that intersectionality helps us do this, helps us “check our privilege” in these areas. If I read about the experiences of a Black, female lesbian, I gain new understanding of the things I take for granted in my whiteness and my heterosexuality. If I read something written by someone with a physical handicap, I gain new understanding of how I take my able-bodiedness for granted. This does not work only across one dimension, but across many dimensions simultaneously, as I feel affinity for Lorde in her femaleness, but also nuanced understanding of how her experience of being female has been fundamentally different than my own.

This book gave me confidence to speak up about race and identity, more so, I think, than any other we’ve read since June 2020. Because identity is so complex, I am going to make mistakes. I am going to be blatantly racist, sexist, homophobic, classist, and many more things, as these things are ingrained in all of us by society. I am going to be the most blind in the areas where I have experienced the most privilege. But each person’s identity is complex, and race conversations are not “us versus them”—it’s “me and you,” talking and processing, and trying to get to know our differences. Lorde has such a strong conviction in the process of unity, of coming through understanding of each other and each other’s diversity. And it’s clear that this is only achieved through closeness, through effort, through work and discussion (which is inherently painful because it works out the deep thorns of hatred). Lorde’s faith in this is so powerful and it uplifted me to try, with each person, to get closer to understanding their intersectional identities. I know that this is not a project that I can expect another person to enter into with me, and Lorde points to several times when she’s exhausted by this work, when she acknowledges how less emotionally-taxing certain conversations about race with white people would be if they were conducted by another white person.

I think that, on some deep level, I have always struggled with a fear of misspeaking about race. This is a funny fear to have because I have already misspoken about race. I have said things out of ignorance, out of racism, that have hurt others, probably more times than I know. I have had friends call me out. I have apologized. I have felt sad about the impact of my words. I have felt ashamed about my ignorance. Why would I still dread these experiences? I guess, because they are painful, and no one likes anything painful, but they are definitely less painful for me. So I try to overcome my fear of them. I think I am someone who craves the approval of others. I like to be liked, something cultivated from a very young age when I won the approval of teachers and of my parents by being a strong student. I didn’t really have the experience of disappointing someone (I probably should have, so I could have made tools earlier for dealing with it). Why do I want/need the approval of strangers? Why do I want to be liked? Why does this factor into a fear of judgment and of misspeaking? I think as I’ve grown up I’ve improved at taking criticism. I am good at taking criticism on things I produce: my writing, my school work, my work work. I am getting pretty good at taking personal criticism from loved ones—“you said x and that hurt my feelings”—I am good at admitting fault. I do not feel insecure about mistakes or failures. Yet, I’m somehow more afraid of hurting strangers, and the hurt that comes from speaking up and hurting others about race. My logical mind rejects this—“your hurt is microscopic and should not be the focus when you’ve hurt others”—but I also know I still feel this. I’m not doing a great job of talking myself out of it.

Audre Lorde, however, is. My favorite moment in this book is the following quote:

“If I speak to you in anger, at least I have spoken to you: I have not put a gun to your head and shot you down in the street…”

I felt this moment strike me deeply and shift something tectonic within me. I felt this change the way I thought about my fear. I felt the incredible power of someone telling me I’ve hurt them, of being willing and able to do that. Yes, I still would not want to hurt someone else because I would not want to hurt them. But I feel, in a new way, that I am not afraid of misspeaking on race because of the backlash on me. I need to try to not hurt others, but I will. And when I do, I will need to try harder. I will be grateful for words of anger because they are WORDS. Words are not something of which to be afraid; words are opportunities.

Another striking part of this book for me was the conversation between Adrienne Rich and Audre Lorde. I’m a big fan of Rich’s poetry and routinely taught “Diving Into the Wreck” to my students, as a way to talk about Feminism and identity. I really appreciated seeing these women converse, modeling, I felt, the approach to conversations around intersectionality that Lorde supports. These two women don’t hold back, and they don’t always agree. Yet, their friendship and trust deepens through their acts of disagreement and reckoning. The best part of this essay, for me, was when Lorde brings up how Rich asked her on the phone in a conversation around race to provide “documentation” of her perspective, as a way to help Rich “perceive what you perceive.” Lorde, however, takes this request as one coming from an academic/rationalist perspective, a perspective that has often been employed to discredit Lorde’s own, as a “questioning of her perceptions” (which, white men academics too often feel, are suspect when coming from a Black woman). Neither Rich nor Lorde backs off their approach—Rich tying this need for documentation to how seriously she takes the spaces between her and Lorde that she seeks to fill with information and understanding, and Lorde pointing out that documentation supports analysis and not perception, which is the way the world is directly received by her, a Black woman. I don’t think this conversation is colored by them being respectful of each other in their words and language, but by the honesty that is evidence of deep and true respect.

This book is bookended by two essays that take place aboard—the first in Russia and the last in Grenada. In both, Lorde has another identity that she comments on less explicitly, but that is nevertheless explored: that of the English-speaking American aboard. She’s supported by translators and guides throughout her academic trip to Russia, and she experiences Grenada in terms of the American Imperialist invasion that overwrote the narrative of the local people with whom she feels strong affinity through her mother. In Russia, Lorde compares and contrasts the systems she sees at play with American systems (the poor, horrified Russian man to whom she explains that Americans don’t have universal healthcare and if you can’t afford it, “sometimes you die”). Reading Lorde’s descriptions of her trips invoked in me a deep desire to travel, a pining for those experiences that I’ve tried to stamp down firmly in the past year, but travel has been such a significant part of my life over the past 5 years…it’s hard to silence my longing. (I cried yesterday morning about wanting to visit the remains of Troy where they’ve been unearthed in western Turkey near Canakkale…) I felt like these bookends helped me expand the principles of intersectionality beyond the American Black-white dynamic, although this is the hugest and most painful power dynamic impacting America today, to remember that these issues are universal. Lorde focuses more universally than some of the other authors we’ve read recently, focusing her commentary on all aspects of her identity, and not solely race. Struggles around race, gender, sexuality, nationality, and many other aspects of identity are occurring around the world, and it’s important to work to understand the intersectionality of others’ lives and experiences in a complex, nuanced way. By doing this, Lorde shows, we can direct our emotions and our efforts vertically, working to dismantle stratified systems of inequality, rather than battling over differences on a horizontal plane.  

[biinkspacewp]

Aeris Leone

Basics

Full name: Aeris Leone

Alias’/Titles: Empress of Death

Age: 29 in The Force Awakens

Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual

Home Planet: Adeaara

Appearance

Species: Human

Skin Tone: Fair

Eye Color: Hazel

Hair Color: Dark Brown

Hairstyle: Typically loose and down, worn in a half up braided style when going into a battle

Makeup: Light and minimalistic, if any

Height: 5’ 11”

Notable Features: Silver tattoos

Style: Usually seen in her Adahmeerian armor with white painted accents paired with a white cape and white combat boots

Weapons: Two tseltan swords with white accents

Personality

General Personality Traits: Loyal, Strong Willed, Confident, Sarcastic

Strengths: Persuasive, Can talk her way out of anything, Impervious to the force

Weaknesses: Craves power and control, Doesn’t always think before she acts

Habits and Mannerisms: Smiles literally all of the time, Tilts her head when she thinks, Always humming something

Secrets: A lot of what she had to do to take control of Adeaara

Regrets: Allowing her mother to abuse her for as long as she did

Skills and Talents: Swordsmanship, hand to hand combat, annoying anyone and everyone around her

Likes: Wreaking havoc everywhere she goes

Dislikes: People she has no respect for trying to boss her around

Sense of Humor: Dark and sarcastic

Guilty Pleasure: Sparing sessions with Kylo Ren

Defining Moment: Killing Grellen Frez and becoming the leader of the Adahmeer to gain control over Adeaara and help bring her people back to their former glory

Relationships

Friends: Captain Phasma, General Hux

Family: Arazo Leone (older sister), Srelba Leone (older brother), Irella Terrik (mother), Aalto Leone (father)

Enemies: Kylo Ren (temporarily), Supreme Leader Snoke, The Resistance

Lovers: Kylo Ren (eventually)

Relationship Status: It’s complicated

Reputation: A flirt and a half, will stab someone though

Miscellaneous

Current Residence: Moves between multiple First Order starships and The Oasis

Collections: A ton of small potted plants, mostly berry bushes

Signature Quote: “Trust gets you killed, so give it wisely.”

Song: Psycho by EMM

Backstory

Aeris was born 3 years after the Red War on Adeaara. She grew up in a post-war environment where it was every man for himself, a far cry from the happy society Adeaara had before it was destroyed. Growing up around a large group of war-torn Adahmeers with her mother and sister, she learned how to fight, steal, and scavenge to survive. 

She and her mother had a very bad relationship. The first time she remembered her mother hitting her was when she was five. They were out scavenging for supplies when she wandered too far away from the group and accidentally gave away their position to a group of thieves. A fight ensued and as a result her mother was injured. The first thing Irella did after getting back from the medical tent was slapped her across the face before sending her to bed without anything to eat. 

It only escalated as she got older. It progressed from being hit and losing meals to knives and broken bones. As a result, Aeris was extremely rebellious and spiteful. She often did things to anger her mother because she always felt that the pride from seeing her mother angry, especially in front of others, outweighed the punishment she got for it. 

Despite the hate she held for her mother, her sister was her best friend. The two were often together, cracking jokes and training together. Their bond was one extremely uncommon in the environment they lived in and with Arazo being nine years older than Aeris, she was extremely protective over her. This protective bond is what eventually led to Irella’s death. 

After the death of her mother, Aeris felt powerful and she was tired of living in fear of dying. She was quick to take leadership over the large group of warriors she grew up with. She built up their confidence and gained their trust, eventually convincing them it was time to move on and fix Adeaara back to its former glory. Over the course of three years, Aeris led the Adahmeer across Adeaara, building up an army as she was able to talk more and more people into joining her with the promise of a better future and striking down those who opposed her.

Once she finally got a solid grasp on the people of Adeaara, she couldn’t wait to tell her sister. Not long after, Arazo made the offer that Aeris should pack up her army and come join the First Order, Arazo’s home for the last four years. At first Aeris rejected the offer, not wanting to be under the control of someone else again. She eventually caved with the promise that it would be like a partnership, with her still leading her people while working alongside the First Order. From there, The Oasis made its return and the Adeaarian people joined the First Order.

Credit to the lovely @shenanigans-and-imagines for the amazing layout of this character sheet!

[josephjohnblogs]

“During bad circumstances, which is the human inheritance, you must decide not to be reduced. You have your humanity, and you must not allow anything to reduce that. We are obliged to know we are global citizens. Disasters remind us we are world citizens, whether we like it or not.” —Maya Angelou now did you find a hope ? Do you know the definition of hope? What is hope for you? And what does mean to you?

meaning of expectation can contrast contingent upon the individual doing the talking. At the point when individuals talk about expectation in an otherworldly setting, it may mean accepting beneficial things will occur with confidence in a higher force. They may coordinate their expectations outward in petition. For other people, it may mean continually looking on the brilliant side and considering difficulties to be openings. At the end of the day, continually "seeking after the best. According to " Merriam-Webster's definition makes "trust" appear near "wish": "to value a craving with expectation: to need something to occur or be valid." Whatever the subtleties, trust when all is said in done methods a longing for things to improve, and to need that better circumstance without question.

And why is it important to have hope as individual? Because hope is the only way for us people to unite as one , we need hope for humanity, and it's essential because To have hope for humanity is to need an result that creates your life way better in a few way. It not as it were can offer assistance make a intense show circumstance more tolerable but moreover can inevitably

improve our lives since envisioning an improved future propels you to require the steps to form it happen. Whether we think approximately it or not, trust may be a portion of everyone’s life. Everybody trusts for something. It’s an inborn portion of being a human being. Trust makes a difference us characterize what we need in our prospects and is portion of the self-narrative around our lives we all have running interior our minds.

If there's a hope, there should be humanity, a humankind that simply define as quality of being a human, Humankind can be characterized as nature of being human; the impossible to miss nature of man, by which he is recognized from different creatures. Being human doesn't imply that an individual has humankind. In the event that you need to comprehend the nature of humankind in an individual observe what he accomplishes for individuals who give noticing back consequently to the kindness they have advertised.

what is humanity by the way, Humanity means, whenever and wherever possible, caring for and helping others. Humanity means helping people when they need the most support, and humanity means ignoring our selfish interests when others need our support. Humanity implies that unconditional love is extended to any living person on earth.

Humanity is an individual attribute which is provided to one by nature and by which one is differentiated from other beings. Being human does not mean that humanity is possessed by a person. In a person, the standard of humanity takes note of what he does for people who give back notes in return for the favor they gave. Mother Teresa brilliantly depicted extra-ordinary compassion in a human being as she created a magnificent example of humanity around the globe and particularly in india, humanity for them means caring for and helping others whenever wherever possible.

Humanity means helping anyone when they need the most encouragement, and humanity means eliminating your selfish interests when others need your care. Humanity means extending to any and every human being on Earth love and devotion.

The tale of a king will show a perfect instance of humanity. A king with a kind heart once saw a battle pigeon and an eagle. He had the ability to interact with birds and beasts. The pigeon requested that the king rescue him from the eagle. The king told the eagle that, in consideration for saving the pigeon, he would have been prepared to pay any price. The eagle asks the king to give him flesh equal to the weight of the pigeon's flesh.

Agreeing with both the condition of the Eagle, The king begins to chop his own flesh, equal to the pigeon's flesh. He still finds the pigeon heavier, after donating a little bit of his flesh. He finally surrenders all of himself to the Eagle besides his meal. That is the moment when both the Eagle and the pigeon transformed into angels who appeared on the planet to measure the degree of the king's humanity. Now, for his deed of humanity, the king is remunerated with the most invaluable rewards and heaven after life.

And indeed , One of the most extraordinary instances of extra-standard humankind in an individual has been depicted flawlessly by Mother Teresa. Mankind implies thinking about and helping other people at whatever point and at every possible opportunity. Mankind implies helping other people now and again when they need that help the most, humankind implies overlooking your narrow minded interests on occasion when others need your assistance.

Individuals who consistently bunk that they don't have adequate offices accessible in spite of having everything can never offer compassionate types of assistance since, supposing that one has the mentality of not acting naturally adequate, in what capacity can the person in question help another person. One is constantly associated with their great deeds and it is fundamental to comprehend that there is no preferred deed over offering types of assistance for philanthropic causes.

Just individuals can comprehend the significance of mankind and it is humankind because of knowledge which really gives the center substance to human presence. You won't need a heavy ledger to contribute towards philanthropic exercises. You don't need to hefty bank account to contribute towards humanitarian activities. Paying your domestic help fairly is also humanity. Loving your neighborhood are also humanity, caring your family and friends can define as humanity, Helping one another are showing the essence humanity. Everyone of us know's what is humanity, the only thing is some people don't absorb the quintessence of humanity,

George Orwell 1944 1950 says that the

Even you are a normal individual who living with normal life, you can show humanity to the society you where belong, because humanity doesn't define your Richness, position, color, religion, and culture, because everyone of us in this world can show the essence of humanity, and thats the lacking part of us being a human today, at some point we forgot to be human, we forgot the essence of this world.

And that's why some people don't know how to act human sometimes, they can't see the hope, the hope of humanity, they are hopeless At times they feel hopless in view of something that transpires they commit an error, need to manage a major dissatisfaction, lose a person or thing we care about, or need to manage circumstances that are truly upsetting or overpowering. Different occasions, they feel miserable and don't have a clue why. It could be discouragement, absence of rest, physical ailment or some other factor that is influencing the manner in which they feel.

It affects more than one person when hope is damaged. It is impossible to replace them when true hope is rejected. It can be difficult to find inspiration again when a person has lost hope. All these claims hold true. How we shape each other's hopes is the most significant effect we have on each other. Hope breeds hope. We connect with our world more when hope remains. We commit more of ourselves, like anyone else around us, to what we do. Our innovation and our problem-solving require hope.

My point of this article in generality is that when a person has a hope she or he can capable act what is humanity , on the ground that hope and humanity are connected, because of hope people can show love humankind, love, respect, now how to care and socialize to other human, helping other people, hope is the one of the best element of an individual. Now in the view of something "Hope for Humanity " in if we deeper down the intimation hope for humanity are actually big discussions if we broader, because the insight of this article is to define and implicate the the essence of hope and humanity.

In this infinite, everlasting and ever-changing universe, the essence of humanity is to work for the independence of the will based on true awareness of the world and of itself, a subjectivity and conceptual unity of the opposites of the objectivity of blind nature and as part of nature itself. This essence is an acquired capacity that encourages man to change the conditions of his physical , mental and social human experience effective manner on the basic principle with

productive knowledge and understanding as well as of himself. In such a way as to gradually diminish but never fully eliminate the inconsistency among both subjective human persons and objective nature, between humanity and the environment.

This seems to be inherently a bad thing a complex of "being" and "knowing" historical processes; mediated by dialectical chance and necessity and taking place in a celestial body something which temporarily harbors life where life's subjectivity can evolve through discrete evolutionary leaps from blind non-living matter to the highest developed power demand. Namely the thinking of brain of man.

Now, how can we show humanity to people? Did we do already show? The first thing we can do is to Help encourage your humanity to shine ,Being human involves understanding that human beings are, well, "human," and flawed or fallible at times. It's also about trying to understand wrongdoing, and being immune to criticism, even if it's not what you want to hear or do. Despite the intense desire to explain away or defend, if their associates start by speaking directly, without judgment, organizations could really produce often more linked and long-time citizens,

Equally important, society is about expressing viewpoints, views and discoveries freely. It means not being afraid to understand and accept weakness and disappointment, and it's about accepting mistakes and recognizing wrongdoings. It's not the types of mistakes you make; it's about how you manage those mistakes as an ordinary person, and the organization as a whole. Next is be Genuine empathy model From a practical point of view, this implies first considering the perspective of the customer-"what "they express and" why "it is important to them . regardless of his concern and how vehemently he expresses it. And, no matter how often or what he buys. It's all about listening to each and every customer, understanding his emotions, and communicating good intentions.

To express true empathy, it is important to remember that everyone always you come into contact with is a doorman. You can asko Show Gratitude because Gratitude is a powerful way to show people that they will be valued by you, and it's often ignored.

Hope for humanity can Express empathy and humility All people, no matter how much they invest or how long they've known you, want to be treated with respect. In each and every interaction, they expect respect . from the very first to the last. Truly loving your people implies displaying compassion, understanding and humility.In order to compare to others, humility is about being self-aware and non-judging. And that's what we need to cultivate as individuals, for i concluded my perception i truly believe what NicteDeana.com that "Let's not lose hope in humanity, instead live help others ".

[naughtyxstories]

Werewolf (ABO) Universe

OOC Notes:

this universe has a lot of specific structural elements so feel free to message to discuss variations to our muses’ specific (aka - the one we are playing in)

all of my muses are available for this universe but it is noteworthy that even my female muses are Alphas.

all genders welcome

MODERN VERSE

To make it clean, I will set everything in the fictional city of Blackrock, on the west coast of North America

Variable is whether the entire world is comprised of shifters and wolves or whether there are still regular humans completely unaware of these dynamics going on.

Blackrock is populated by the Werewolves (either wholly or primarily) of the Pack

Being an Omega is biological and they are the only ones capable of bearing young

Both Alphas and Betas can breed with Omegas

In this modern world, all claims and mating pairs are supposed to be consensual.

However, there is still abusive partners and families and so forth.

Pairings could be any organizational structure. Therefore it isn’t uncommon for anyone to be paired or grouped into 3-4 people

Scent gives everything away but scent blockers do exist.

Alphas experience rut but generally chemically block themselves from going through it. Still at least once a year, they are supposed to experience it. Some put it off longer. The longer you put it off, the worse the rut is when you finally experience it. (for example, instead of two or three days, it’ll last a week and be much harder to maintain control)

Omegas can only block their heat for a maximum of one year or they will damage their ability to bear pups. Blocking it has no impact on the severity of their next heat. They are always extreme. Young Omegas tend to have irregular cycles, which means they have to be extra careful.

Courtship rituals, gifting and so forth are all still a part of society but an Alpha may be bold and just declare their intentions toward an Omega. They run the risk of scaring off their intended however.

Betas tend to court the most diplomatically, aware that they are culturally perceived as lesser but they tend to be more rational and do not experience the rut so therefore may be appealing to an Omega. They have to work a little hard to assist their Omega through their heat but they can do it.

Historical

A/B/O is biological. Alphas are the leaders and soldiers. Betas run all the businesses and manage the money. Given the rise to the top pits Alpha against Alpha, there are not that many of them. They will literally fight to the death.

In general historical societies, Omegas are treated as mere property and permitted to own nothing or control their own resources and bodies.

I would push this all the way back to Vikings era so that one of the pushes for the raiding is to find Omegas for breeding purposes.

Once claimed and mated, the Northmen tended to be very respectful of their Omegas and it was considered shameful to abuse your Omega. They were also permitted to manage money and could even keep their children if there was a petition to sever the mating bond. Omegas could petition their Jarl or King/Queen to sever the mating bond if they are unhappy with their mate. This was a great shame to the mate.

This puts the Northmen as unusually progressive for their time-period but most outside their communities would have no idea.

The Northmen are, as a whole, extremely protective of their Omegas and pups.

Fuck with them and the Northmen will fuck you up.

RULES OF COURTSHIP FOR THE MODERN BLACKROCK VERSES

[under the cut]

Overview

failure to abide by these Rules can result in the Alpha being expelled from the pack or even executed if the breach is egregious or results in permanent harm to an Omega

the ritual is specific but there may be differences between the arrogant/foolish pack members and those who have given their courtship a great deal of thought.

at any stage, the Omega may reject or refuse the Alpha. at the beginning this is just refusing to accept a gift or returning the item. as the courtship progresses, the refusal must be more specific and direct. the law will intervene if an Omega reports they are afraid to refuse an Alpha

after being refused, an Alpha is not permitted to renew their Courtship.

Stage One

it begins with gifts

the gift is intended to be personal and have meaning

arrogant Alphas may only gift money or a hank of freshly caught game

thoughtful Alphas will try to offer symbolic items or items they think will catch the Omega’s interest (ie a book, flowers, fresh food, a blanket which carries their scent)

cooking for the Omega is usually the next step and intended to demonstrate that the Alpha has the means to provide for their mate and pups

an arrogant or foolish Alpha will take the Omega to a restaurant or provide the Omega food prepared by another. Only an immature Omega would not find such behaviour offensive

anything more than ‘polite’ touches or kisses would be considered an insult to the Omega (polite would be touches to the hand or arm, kisses on the cheek and similar)

Stage Two

increasingly intimate dates starting with public occasions or where other family are present

public or chaperoned dates are followed by personal dates, alone in their homes or in some other setting allowing more privacy and increased intimacy

the gifts and offerings also become more intimate (such as clothing, underwear and jewellery)

the Omega may take to wearing or keeping with them an item carrying the Alpha’s scent

intimacies and touching may increase but it would be considered insulting to go beyond ‘making out’ or a sort of heavy petting

Stage Three

the bond is starting to really form between Omega and Alpha

they will crave each other’s presence and feel bereft if too much time passes without seeing one another

an Omega may lose their ability to reach orgasm without the presence of the Alpha, as if their body is already tied to their Alpha. this can feel strange or even make an Omega feel upset or uncomfortable and can be a challenge for the pair to overcome. it is the first true loss of control to a specific Alpha. it can result in a split or end of the courtship if the Omega does not deal with it well.

there is still no penetration but they may have been quite otherwise intimate, touching, caressing and even oral sex

the gifts will continue as well as other caregiving exercises, fixing up things for them, or even planning for a future ahead, meeting friends and family, presenting themselves as a couple in public and so forth

Accept or Refuse

an Omega’s scent changes usually approximately a week before their heat will commence

an immature or younger Omega will have a shorter window (48 - 72 hours rather than a full week) and their heat can be triggered by someone they know going into heat

at this stage, the Alpha will offer himself to their selected Omega and the Omega must decide to accept or reject that Alpha.

if rejected, the Alpha must leave and will seek the assistance of friends and family to calm themselves and frequently go through a rather harsh rut for getting so close and then being rejected. it is personally devastating but there are no social consequences for either Omega or Alpha.

everyone understands that when down to the final choice, the Omega has a right to decide and therefore refuse the Alpha

Heat / Rut

if accepted, the Omega and the Alpha will go through all the soft furnishings they possess and set up their mating nest, usually in the Alpha’s home

as the Omega’s heat starts to build, the Alpha will get more protective, quite literally stockpiling supplies in the home and loathing being separated from their chosen mate.

the heat may trigger the Alpha’s rut and this is considered the most primal and intense of bonds.

the heat usually lasts for just under three days (or about 65-70 hours) where the pair will have periods of rest but will not wish to be separated.

during the mating, the Alpha may knot and do so more than once within his mate. it is not mandatory though, although a pregnancy is unlikely to result if there is no knotting

the Alpha will not wish to be parted and will take great pleasure in preparing food for the Omega, bathing and maintaining physical contact

any interference by a third party will result in violence. sometimes a family member or members will stand guard outside the Alpha’s home to ensure the pair are not disturbed

the mating usually takes about a week, sometimes just under, sometimes just over before the mated pair will tolerate being separated from one another.

the period of time after the heat but during the mating is often sweet, silly, playful and gentle. sex continues but it has lost the urgency. for some this is their favourite part of their mating.

Claiming

Following the mating there is a claiming ceremony

the ceremony is more for show -  a public demonstration of what was already privately settled.

it forms a legal bond between the pair and gives the Alpha legal rights to any pups that resulted from the mating.

without the claiming ceremony, the Alpha has no legal right to the pups and paternity may be denied

it is a vulnerable time for an Alpha

between the mating and the claiming ceremony, an omega still has the right to change their mind

to do so would be considered humiliating for the Alpha

sometimes a spiteful Omega will deliberately lure an Alpha to this point in order to humiliate them and permanently spoil their chances. Once a refusal has become common knowledge at this stage between mating and the ceremony, the Alpha is unlikely to ever be accepted by another Omega.

THE EXCEPTIONS

There are only two acceptable exceptions to the above Rules of Courtship that will not result in severe consequences for the Alpha who has breached said Rules. These exceptions are mandated and any Omega signed up for them has done so voluntarily.

The Offering

An unusual ritual and only reserved for high ranking or particularly honoured Alpha Wolves that have performed a great service for the Pack. Omegas who are interested in being claimed by the Alpha may present themselves at a great celebration. Fancy gowns and fine suits are worn. Music, dance and fine food are offered.

At the culmination of the evening, the Omegas are presented and the Alpha may select whichever one has caught the Alpha’s interest. It is considered a great insult if no Omega is deemed satisfactory.

The Omega’s heat is deliberately triggered, usually through chemical means, and the Alpha may take the Omega home. The Offering takes the place of both the mating and the claiming ceremony, although many still have a claiming ceremony at a later date.

The Hunt

The spring is the season of the heat, when Omegas are more likely to go into heat. As such, Omegas will, more often, permit themselves to actually go through their heat and not use chemical blockers. It feels safe as there are so many enduring their heat at the same time. Betas will often assist the Omegas through their heat.

At this time of year, an Omega may sign up for The Hunt. An old-fashioned ritual harking back to the original days of the Pack. A group of Omegas, all on the verge of their heat, will sign up. The Alphas then also register. The Omegas are set free first, able to run (in either form) through the woods. An hour later, the Alphas are set free to chase them, following the scent of the Omega of preference.

Surrounding the acre of forest are a series of small cabins. Once captured, an Omega will be brought to the cabin by their new Alpha. It is unusual for an Omega to leave the grounds without becoming pregnant. It is a very intense and primal mating ritual that produces a strong bond between the mated pair. Something about the Hunt pulls at the Wolf part of them in a very primal way, which they have never managed to work out of their society.

Claiming ceremonies thereafter are optional.

[it-goes-both-ways]

Over the last few years I've been posting more and more of my actual views, which I'm not exactly ashamed of but realise they're not so much unpopular opinions as downright rejected ones. I pretty much know why I have them, I'm aware of my biases and make every effort to restrict them to words, not allowing them to affect my relationships or treatment of others, restricting the hyperbole and rants to this blog and my long suffering partner. Unfortunately I seem to attract the worst kind of women in real life, which is not at all helping. Every time I reveal something I worry about being rejected, told I'm a monster, a failure, a disgrace, an embarrassment, but each and every time I've gotten nothing but acceptance. I am greatly honoured by your support thus far, for tolerating my increasingly frustrated outbursts and hope I won't push you away with this, but it's been all consuming for almost my whole life, and part of “cleaning up my room” is putting all that baggage out there to be scrutinised and hopefully understood, sometimes all that is needed is a willing ear, suppression only breeding resentment and isolation.

All the bullshit feminism has caused, from protesting the male pill and shutting down shared parenting efforts to the Duluth model and erasing men who are raped by women or by counting them under "violence against women" stats to boost the female victim numbers. Mary Koss, the progenitor of the 1 in 5/4/3/-69/ π r2 stat claiming that it's "inappropriate" to consider male victims of forceful envelopment by women as they are merely ambivalent about their own desires. Lobbying for laws that regard mutually drunk sexual encounters as automatically rape by men, underage consensually sexually active couples (even if they're months away from age of consent or the girl is older) as child rape on the part of the boy, guilty until proven innocent, accusation is the evidence, kangaroo courts, sentencing discounts on top of the preexisting bias which causes a 63% disparity and difference in treatment to the point where if you take every step of the justice system into account the crime rate is pretty damned even (with women often using proxy violence so they have plausible deniability, and avoid responsibility/physical risk). Treating women as the definitive victims of prostitution no matter which side of the transaction they're on. Banning men from charity fundraising events, transpeople only allowed if they provide evidence that they are biologically female. Having the NHS class women choosing to have genital piercings as being victims of female genital mutilation, while male genital mutilation performed at birth is not so much as frowned upon let alone illegal by any single country on the entire twatting planet. In fact you can buy some baby foreskins if you want to, or rub them on your face, the target market being protected from the very process that brought them their anti-ageing face cream, complaining that it costs more than men's moisturiser.

The innate gynocentrism of humanity has always led to women being their top priority, now even above children, it tries to pander, and acquiesce to their every demand while being told it hates them. The cases like the woman who filmed herself raping her own baby and getting the oh so harsh sentence of community bloody service and house arrest. The "poor, neglected" woman whose husband had become distant from her (wonder why) so she raped her son's friend, whose punishment was being banned from his school, which she considered too harsh as she missed her son's graduation. An audience of hundreds of normal regular women cheering and celebrating a man being drugged by his wife, who then cut off his penis and threw it in the "garbage disposal" permanently destroying it, just for asking for a divorce (can't think why he'd want to leave), despite no further context it was declared "fabulous" to the ecstatic jubilation of the empathetic sex. There's the idea that men commit the vast majority of rapes while calling female teachers "seducing" their students mere trysts, shameful liaisons that do not deserve prison, female prison guards committing the overwhelming majority of rape of male children and youths in juvenile detention (89%), among other women who rape men and boys (my own mother being one of them), this in addition to the rape rate among female prisoners being 3 times that of male ones, not a single damned thing is done about the propagation of the bullshit narrative. Somehow the fact that female rapists tend to target children is irrelevant because male ones target adult women, and "you don't see women going around raping adult men" (even though the stats are still around 50/50 because it's a human problem, unless those women are exhibiting toxic masculinity or something). There's the 10,000 men and boys slaughtered in their schools by Boko Haram while girls were released and allowed to go home, the boys being set on fire, their throats slit, or shot if trying to escape, no one giving the slightest hint of the merest ghost of a toss, until they realised that they weren't getting the attention they craved so they kidnapped girls, causing an international outcry and the media/celebrities changing their motivation from "eradicate western education" to "oppress women and stop them getting an education". There's the refusal by both the left and the right to look beyond the plight of women when it comes to Islam, they not only ignore the laws which oppress men, but declare those men the "real" misogynist patriarchal oppressors and innately sociopathic rapists. There's the refusal to recognise that women are a part of society and have far more influence than anyone wants to admit. There's Muslim men's obligation towards women, the segregation in Saudi where they have many public places from which men are banned unless accompanied by a female family member, where they'll be arrested for accompanying a woman to whom he is not related while the woman is merely sent home, where men face potentially fatal consequences for the same "crimes". Where homeless boys in Pakistan are pretty much guaranteed to be repeatedly raped day after day.

Then in my own life, being 6 or 7 years old, my sister 8 or 9 and told to stay put as our Reliant Robin went up in flames, having to be pulled out by a stranger, a man, because we were more afraid of disobeying than of burning to death, mother not even sparing us a glance as she grieved the loss of her car, later keeping it in the garden like some sort of shrine. Around the same year, at an LRP event (Lorien Trust's The Gathering), being left in the tent alone late at night and going to look for her, finding her on top of an unconscious man, she at least picked up on the fact that I was revelling in her severe hangover the next morning. Sneaking downstairs one night to see the aftermath of one of her "encounters", the man was broken, so started my extreme protectiveness of men and distrust of women, to the point of being called a gender traitor for the first time at around 7 years old by my 60+ year old year 1 teacher (who also wouldn't allow me to use left handed scissors or to write left handed, unwittingly making me ambidextrous. Being left with a violent babysitter who made me sleep under the table, or on the floor beside her bed (despite having 4 bloody beds), who wouldn't let me eat since burning the toast, beat me for asking for a glass of water and wouldn't even allow me to drink out of the tap, she once threw me in a wheely bin and poured dishwater over me, mother was in the garden just a few doors down, yet did nothing. She’d always try and get her boyfriends to beat us but they always just laughed it off (they’d put up with abuse themselves but never lasted long after she started bringing us into it), one in particular was into BDSM and later got mother a job as a dominatrix (she was disappointed by our complete lack of surprise), and even he had to draw the line at demonstrating how sexual intercourse works to his girlfriend’s 6 and 8 year old daughters.

My sister and I as little more than toddlers, mother putting our onesies on backwards so we couldn't take them off, having to go to the loo with them still on. Having the door handles put on upside down so that we couldn't reach up enough to open it to get to the loo so we ended up pissing ourselves. Having a daily diet of four slices of bread and the cheapest of generic vegetable spread as we weren't allowed mother's butter, being starved as punishment or just because she felt like it (having won custody of us only to spite dad), leading to malabsorption and osteoarthritis at the grand old age of twenty bloody six (3 years ago now), once a week we got an actual meal. Being around 8 or 9, visiting my auntie who was in hospital after having a stroke, having already had MS she was left paralysed, just 23 years old, granddad put together a system for her to speak by grouping letters and having her blink once for the stated grouping or letter or twice for basically undo. I gave her my only teddy which I carried everywhere, a stuffed donkey I got from Spain, she kept it. Staying in her house, continuing my habit of accidentally setting fire to the toaster, being left alone most of the night and going to look for mother in the village pub, finding her in one of her drinking competitions, walking in and vagblocking her, much to her frustration and anger. Being treated like a replacement husband, even trying to talk me into having a sex change despite only mild dysphoria, which was later greatly lessened by having an implant which stopped periods, eliminating most of the feeling of wrong (most cases of sex change regret are people who were abused, either treated like shit for their biological sex, treated as if they are opposite sex, or sexual abuse). Hearing about how the only way she'd get any when she was with dad was when he was asleep. Why did he end up dying a slow, agonising death while she gets to carry on regardless? Asking me about who I liked, later discovering exactly why she wanted to know, a man I care about was raped because I didn’t pick up on her ulterior motives. Having mother and her friends try to teach me to manipulate men, get them to pay for me, trying to turn me into a gold digger, only making me hate them even more. Coming of age (16), no longer eligible for child benefit, mother having been visiting friends more and more often until she didn't come back, only finding out that she'd been gradually moving out when we got the eviction order.

I'd been training myself to eventually join the army from the age of 5, once when I was 6 mother had asked me to go to the supermarket to get a bag of potatoes, she usually got a 20kg sack, must have taken me an hour to get it home, a man helping me carry it some of the way. When I finally enlisted I had to stop taking codeine for the malabsorption, it wasn't as much of a problem if I was eating every day (I usually forget as my body had been conditioned by neglect, not even bothering to remind me to eat any more), my hips had always made crunching and cracking sounds when I move, but as my body adjusted to the lack of codiene the pain became unbearable, upon being diagnosed with osteoarthritis I had to give up any hope of ever being a soldier, I've lost my purpose, and have nothing to replace it with, couldn't even work a whole shift when I got a factory job, humiliating, I'd informed the woman of my condition and she'd assured me that it was just a machinist job. It wasn't. It was everything you shouldn't do if you have any sort of hip problems. I'd never felt such agony and I'd fractured my bloody skull (at an LRP event). The woman was such a nasty bitch about it, she went from compassionate and understanding to mocking me for being upset that I was so damned useless now. I offered to forfeit my pay but her colleague, who also had arthritis and could no longer work the floor, was obviously far more genuinely empathetic than the woman, my brief boss was also sympathetic and even paid for a taxi to take me home after I refused an ambulance. The pain didn't subside for days.

I've never had a female friend who hasn't betrayed me, my "best friend" in school found it hilarious to punch me in the back in the middle of class, causing me to yell inadvertently as the air was knocked out of me. In year 8 the other kids stepped up their game and went from throwing stones to a house brick, when I got back to school she asked where the stitches were, just so she could punch me and reopen the wound. I was never allowed to retaliate, it would always be me who would be threatened with expulsion even if I only snapped after years of beatings which everyone knew was happening. Every birthday the other kids would falsely accuse me of something so I'd have to spend break times stood outside the headmaster's office, the equivalent of the stocks. Whether it was asperger's making me so unlikeable or if I genuinely am just a massive thundercunt, I never found out what I did to provoke them. Every time I put my trust in a woman it gets thrown in my face. My neighbour decided she was my best friend for life and would call at all hours of the day and night to get me to pick up her bloody methadone twice a bloody week, go to the chippy at 11 o'bloody clock at night, she's always trying to get me to take the pills she buys off a disabled neighbour. There are three things I refuse to take, hormones, anti-depressants, and sleeping tablets and she's always trying to get me to take them. The last straw was when her husband, who I got on very well with and whom she abused constantly, died, I told her to be careful what she wished for. When I finally called her out on using me she leapt immediately to the "after all I've done for you" bollocks.

Time after bloody time it's the same damned story, even regular everyday normal women will talk about things that would get a man arrested or at least publicly lambasted, that erections equal consent, that MGM is not at all a violation of the right to bodily autonomy, that it's absolutely fine and dandy to hit your male partner only to call the police if he defends himself, that female paedophiles shouldn't be punished because boys always want sex no matter what age they are but girls mature younger, right the way back to "We should have the vote but not have to pay with our lives as men had to in their millions while we shamed men and even underage boys into doing the same". What terrified me as a child was women's ability to completely turn off their empathy, the "woman scorned" is seen as karmic justice, there are people defending even the most brutal crimes:  assault, murder, rape, mutilation, over something as minor as rejection, or an accidental drive by fart, or just the crime of being a man who wanted a divorce. Empathetic sex my absolute arse.

A fellow MRA publicly humiliated Adam on a livestream when we went to the men's day march and conference, we were staying in an air B&B, Adam and Will Styles still riding the high of giving their first speeches, only for the woman to dredge up shit that was no one's bloody business and ruin the whole mood for no bloody reason, she also attacked 6oodfella on one of the hangouts. Another one was giving private information, with a vicious twist, poisoning the community against one of our group, Paul Elam didn't want to get involved and Janice Fiamengo immediately cut ties, treating him like a bloody criminal, what the hell did the woman say to her? I could see the Woolly Bumblebee thing coming a mile off, I worry whenever youtubers I like get girlfriends because they seem to either completely change or disappear, like Spino and Bread and Circuses respectively. I'm suspicious of female MRAs, I don't want to be but often even the sane ones are just tradcons. If it weren't for the Honeybadgers and you lot I'd have no hope at all.

The constant stream of "toxic masculinity", oppression, patriarchy, of women complaining that their air conditioned (which is also bloody sexist somehow), seated jobs at a till are paid less than the men (and women but they're not going to mention that) carrying heavy boxes, driving forklifts, working in a cold warehouse, and risking serious injury or death infinitely more than they ever will. The selfishness, solipsism, and sociopathy is too much. Throughout history women have never cared about men aside from ones they have a bond with, have never appreciated a damned thing men have done yet they demand that men prioritise them. Why should they?

I’ve seen and experienced the worst examples of female nature in action, “toxic femininity” if you will, and the difference in reaction to it, never being believed as a child no matter how many times I begged other family members and even strangers to please let me live with them instead, I’ll sleep in a tent, look I brought it with me. Pathetic, but you’d have thought someone would have cottoned on. I'm not going down the anti-women route as my sister has, given her own treatment of her partners and her own admission, she’s not so much pro male as anti-female, but it’s increasingly difficult not to resent them even if everything has a biological explanation. I still defend women if the facts bear it out, even if I don’t necessarily agree on a personal level, reals over feels, the people I agree with most also being female has definitely helped me not fall over the edge, one of whom feels very much as I do to the point where she doesn’t consider herself to be a woman due to her own observations and experiences. But the longer this goes on, the more laws are changed, media is poisoned, speech is suppressed, how the hell do I stop myself from just giving up entirely? How on earth can I stop myself from becoming an all out misogynist? Because it is women, not just feminists. It’s female nature being allowed to go unchecked, even when the same happens with male nature women are still prioritised. There are exceptions on both sides but it’s not enough to change the overall trend. There’s never been a balance, and because of human nature there never will be, which is where the problem lies. I know there’s no hope, that it’s utterly futile, completely pointless, and it’s driving me more towards extremism. I completely understand why we’ve lost so many MRAs to suicide. But I’m still going, even if the only way to make even the slightest change is to appeal to female self interest I’ll still do it. Everything I’ve been passionate about throughout my life is a pointless endeavour, I can’t stop myself from caring or change my fundamental character, it’s a downward spiral and there doesn’t seem to be anything I can do about it.

[noctomania]

Expression (please excuse the novel length)

I remember back in elementary school when my school district voted on whether to turn my school to uniform policy. It was a public school and i had never felt so attacked before then or felt such a strong opinion about something personally. Mind you, i was maybe...10-12 yrs old (if that). This was a time when my self expression was about to take off and bloom. Suddenly though it was halted by uniform policy. I had heard both sides of it and valid points existed on both sides but i still feel it was wrong to enact because i am an advocate for open self expression (i mean without encroaching on other's rights so like my self expression couldn't be to sit on stranger's laps without invitation for example), mostly because that is how i connect best with people. I can't easily just strike up convo with strangers (trust me i have tried). Back then, it was usually a snarky message on my shirt that would draw people in to talk ("good morning is an oxymoron" or any emily strange stuff for example) I've always relished in (and grateful for) having autonomy over my appearance, it's one of the most rewarding things to be able to almost turn yourself inside out and tell the world "see? Do you see me now?" Whereas uniforms...they felt like a prison, like the erasure of my individuality. It also made everyone else seem so 2-D. Schools sometimes had trouble with students showing up in tshirts advertising alcohol or with inappropriate language on them, which is where I think the uniform idea came through most strongly. The economic hardship was left to the families though. Luckily i was allowed to wear pants and not forced into a skirt. I highly doubt guys would have been allowed to wear skirts though, but i never experienced any situations of that at my particular school. I wasn't social enough though to be sure it never happened. Something similar did occur in my high school years later though but instead of a skirt it was my friend and he would wear makeup but was repeatedly sent to detention for it because it was "distracting" I remember also in high school when i was going to be getting my senior picture which I didn't want in the first place. The senior photos were binary traditional and you had to wear this funny neck garment according to your, or what they assumed to be your, gender. This was all before i knew trans and i just knew i preferred the tux one to the one that looked like a dress. The photographer refused unless i got permission from the journalism teacher and I think the only reason she allowed me was because i was a "good quiet" student. But she was sure to let me know she felt it was highly inappropriate. I remember when i got a free leatherman jacket from being in my high school book club (i am The Coolest™) and we got to choose what name we wanted embroidered on the back. I'm proud to say i have my current name, andy, on it because even though the book club leader/librarian did try to push back on my request and tried to sway me into putting my birth name on it, i was insistent. I still have it and still wear it and otherwise i may not have even taken it. (It was free so turning it down wouldn't have been a big deal to me though I woulda been bummed to not get one even though they kinda forced me to take one anyway? It's complicated and thats all besides the point) See I'm someone who craves expression. I bottle up enough shit. Some things i wanna wear on my sleeves. Or my face. Or my hair. My gender expression has been pretty strong since day one. Not to say I wouldn't or have never gone more feminine in my appearance, it's just to say that i have not been the type to adopt an appearance based on what someone else says i am or should be. I don't feel the need to be absolutely masculine 100% i dont fear that which is feminine or androgynous. And i still remain critical of the unnecessary binary that is forced in societies. The products "for men💪/for women🌼" the bullshit of women just cannot be as strong as men the bullshit that women are inherently emotional moreso then men the absurd concept that to be a woman means to have a pussy and tits and to be a man you needa have a package (because clearly you just lose your identity when you get breast or ovarian or testicular cancer). "SO DUH ABOLISH GENDER SO MEN AND WOMEN CAN BE TREATED THE SAME" To turn a blind eye to the differences and intricacies along the gender SPECTRUM (or any innate identity spectrum) is to pretend we don't all have our own distinctive experiences and issues and is in fact a rejection of them. My gender is expressed how i see fit. Perhaps it is quite masculine and yes i did in fact get some surgery but no surgery is going to turn me cis, no hormones will remove all the experience i had as a AFAB for 20yrs no surgery is going to change my interests. I didn't seek hrt or surgery because of anyone else or to spite anyone or to attack anything, i did it to achieve a sense of Self I had never experienced before due to the limitations of my physical expression. I did it because i know how my mind perceives my body and it's never fit right until now. Like ive been a mismatched set of Tupperware that's finally been organized properly. My lid fits, i am a complete set on my own now, as opposed to trying to fit the mold of other's lids. I didn't change to be someone else, i changed my appearance to match who I Am. FORCED gender roles/expression is detrimental, not because of the gender, but because it's forced; because it's someone exerting (or trying to) inappropriate control where they have no right. Are cisfem who choose to take on the ultimate 50s nuclear family housewife life/look any less valid than a cisfem who refuses to fit any gendered life/looks? Or should both be seen as equal and valid in their accession of and right to their autonomy to identify themselves and express themselves how they see fit without any external criticism/dictation as to what is "right" or "appropriate" based on antiquated and/or irrational factors/ideologies? The point of identity is nobody can tell you what​/who you are. Perhaps they could guess, but that doesn't mean they are right or that they have authority over your identities. it's not a problem that gender exists. It's a problem that is has been monopolized and mutated and mythologized by people (yes of all varieties bc ideologies know no bounds) trying to dictate other's lives. It's a problem that it has been used as a tool to oppress rather than express. I've met just as many misogynistic women as i have men or even trans and non-binary folk. Everyone has the ability to be oppressive of someone else. When you have been oppressed, or fear being oppressed, you might take on an oppressive role yourself as a form of offense before you ever have to face bein on the defense, if you aren't critical of or moderate yourself. Though the effort may come from a place of self-preservation, it can still cause unnecessary harm and even be counterproductive, if not hypocritical. If we approach the problem for what it is (insertion of opinion where it is unwarranted and unnecessary) instead of attacking it's symptoms (gender expression), we will get to the real resolution with less inner-community squabbling. Don't pretend like you can tell someone who they are. You can argue your point without doing this. Don't pretend you are the ultimate source of knowledge for what you are fighting for. If it were all up to you there wouldn't be a movement, just you. Terfs and radfems may believe i should not have transitioned. Perhaps they feel I could have easily just continued to be a "tomboy", as i was frequently referred to as, and just bind my chest for the rest of my life and never feel a real connection with my Self. I would have remained in a state of self loathing and not only forever feeling less than i was meant to be (not because of my female form but because I wasn't able to be my Self) but forever having to face people identifying me incorrectly and always feeling that disconnect in communication when someone rejects or denies your identity. While being trans does still make me (only slightly due to passing standards and me being white) a target for hate crimes, before resolving my identity i was more likely to take my own life on top of still being a target for harassment due to being untraditional in my expression. Me being me, I've never had an issue with bein an untraditional person (very little about me is traditional), but when you have an inner war going on and you know you can do something good about it, I would never sway someone away from resolving that. Honestly i felt more a distance from feminism before transitioning because i never felt right if i tried to "proudly proclaim" bein a woman/womyn. i felt like a fraud which ultimately made me question if i was a feminist at all. Like I didn't not like women, and i was/am a proud feminist, i just didn't feel as if i was a woman and felt more like i was lying when the words came out which did to an extent feel like a form of betrayal to women and it wasn't til much later i understood it wasn't. I tried various forms of gender expression as a female but even in the best case scenarios it didn't sit right. Not knowing who you are foundationally makes it hard to know how you feel about others or how to accept others. Empathy and compassion require a certain level of knowing yourself so you can identify with another on our human level. If you're at fault with yourself it can be hard enough to love yourself much less anyone else. I feel trans-exclusionary feminists are stuck in that same stage i was stuck in when i was resolving my gender identity. But removing the issue from the context of gender kind of helps. Its not the identity itself that i hate, it's being forced into an identity i am not, never have been, and never will be. Imagine being forced to be a different person. How people identify you is all wrong and any time you try to assert your identity it is rejected. It's not an identity you can change (like a religion or a political leaning that may or may not change), but it's something not readily apparent, or is obstructed by the predisposition people may have about you based on what they see you as. You can call a bear a silly man who needs a shave and wears a fur coat but that's not going to change the fact that the bear is a bear, not going to change the bear's needs or instincts (reference from The Bear That Wasn't) I guess my point overall is: distinctive identity titles are born out of necessity, because thise identities exist. Identities also present the opportunity for us to recognize one another's differences and to learn how we connect and where we lack understanding of one another. Identities allow us short hand how to express ourselves verbally, yanno when interpretive dance is out of the question or inapplicable. Expression of identity is integral to feeling a sense of Self, to be able to trust yourself, and to be able to trust others. Identity should never be erased whether it be gender, sexual orientation, race, ability etc. Before I understood my gender identity i was compensating my lack of masculine appearance with overly-masculine attitude instead, which inevitably lent itself to toxic masculinity. I would catch myself acting that way sometimes and earnestly didn't know what was wrong with me. Now i know i was insecure. Now, I'm much more neutral and comfortable in my attitude since I'm not feeling the need to compensate for my appearance with my attitude. My transition was good for me and those around me. It allowed me to be a little less concerned with my issues and more concerned with the issues of a wider community. So I know this is long and I'm sorry. I don't expect anyone to have read this and i doubt that anyone who disagrees with me read it thoroughly (3 times top to bottom) as they should (to avoid making themselves look impulsive and irrational or cherry picking) before asserting their opinion, but here it is now and it's not goin anywhere. Thank god it's my weekend coming up... (Please if you respond do so respectfully. If you only wish to spit at me, do so in a direct message and leave the notes on this open for respectful conversation/debate, thank you kindly!)