#didn't expect this to end up so anti capitalism but i'm so okay with it

[zootzcoinzthingz]

RECENTLY EDITED DUE TO A MISTYPE IN OUR IDEALS SECTION LMFAOOO. WE DO N O T, IN FACT, SUPPORT CRINGE CULTURE.

ᜊ.. Hi there! feel free to call me zootz! you might recognize that name, that's because this is a sideblog of @zootzbootz

Onto proper introductions now, I go by many names! like zootz as said previously. however, you can also call me drew, louis, ruyu, or lordy. I am a highly feminine transgender rosneoman with a shitton on xenos tacked on! my pronouns are rot/cae/rat/bro/he/cloud/slush/narc/star and nor/mal. orientation wise, I'm an orchidbisexual mainbi cupioromantic omniaesthetic queerplatonic vincian! I reclaim "fag" btw :3 ... oh, both myself and the body are of adult age!

I'm part of a system, though general I'm going to be the main one running this blog!

ᜊ; I made this blog because I find coining terms to be incredibly fun, and wanted a special place for my terms! so, what can you expect from me? primarily, gender and orientation coinings or things that align with such. I can also make name, pronoun, and title packs either for fun or per request. I might also coin other terms. such as things relating to plurality or alterhumanity!

quick side note: I enjoy some media lot of people consider to be "problematic" I consume my interests critically.

ʚ ideals! ɞ

instead of having a traditional dni, I've decided instead to opt for an "ideals" list. letting you all know what we believe in so you can choose to opt in or out based upon that.

we support the following

1. xenogenders and neopronouns

2. "contradictory" labels (mspec lesbians/gays, lesboys, turigirls, etc)

3. genderfucky, pnc, and gnc folk

4. all forms of systems and plurality

5. alterhumanity, otherheartedness, copinglinks, otherkin, constells, endels, transspecies in a non transid way, and new-age kinnies

6. movements like acab, blm, defund the police, stand with ukraine, free palistine, etc.

7. all those with mental health disorders. even/especially the demonized ones

8. objectum and posic identities

9. pro-kink (our blog will be sfw but we DO support y'all!)

10. religious/spiritual folk (who are pro-queer)

--------

we don't support the following

1. pro-contact (harmful) paraphilias

2. alt-right stuff

3. radfems

4. radqueers

5. xenoids (due to the fact they are inherently anti xenogender)

6. capitalism

7. shielding bigotry with religion. (not exclusive to chritianity)

8. transid (transage, transabled, transrace/rcta)

9. narc abuse truthers

10. anything else that would oppose our ideals

ʚ want to send a request? make sure to follow my rules! ɞ

1. you cannot be against any of our ideals listed above!

2. do not request me to coin anything hateful or harmful.

3. send your request no more than one time.

4. be okay with the fact that there's a chance your request may not get made.

ʚ things I will and won't coin/post ɞ

WILL

- genders inspired by just about anything (minus a few fandoms)

- name/pronoun/title packs

- terms exclusive to conditions that we HAVE

- reclaim/remake/recoin terms made by exclusionists. (they will be given new names to avoid confusion and association)

WON'T

- poc exclusive genders/terms (our body is either white or whitepassing so I'm not comfy with that ! it's not my place!)

- terms exclusive to conditions we DON'T have

- hateful/harmful terms

- terms based off of dsmp, killing stalking, or any other fanbases I end up declining (they're just not my thing and I need to feel some connection to what I'm coining. it has nothing to do with the "problematic nature" of the media. I'm literally a south park fan LMAO)

ᜊ! who can use my terms?

everyone! even if you don't fit my ideals. if one of my terms registers with you, feel free to use it. you simply can't request new ones, and I'd prefer it if you didn't interact with the blog itself, or me at all.

the only exception to the "everyone can use my terms! " thing is if it's exclusive to a certain group.

❥ about reposting our terms.

if you repost our terms on Pinterest, it MUST have a link back to the original coining post, and you must align with our ideals.

if you post our terms on any lgbt/queer/mogai, etc wikis you must assign proper credit to me ofc.

moreover I'd appreciate asking before reposting my terms anywhere, but it's not required as long as you follow my other conditions.

[shanastoryteller]

Red Robin Hood

sherwood is a poor village, and completely at the mercy of its neighbors. to the north is the great castle, ruled by a merciless and cruel king, and all the people between them and castle reflect their king’s nature. to their south is a deep dark forest, where wolves as large and powerful as horses threaten to gobble up any who dare stray too deeply within it.

the village has nowhere to turn, nowhere to go. the people north overcharge them to keep them poor. there is a road that will take them around the forest to a different kingdom, to a kinder kingdom, where they might receive fair aid and fair prices. but the tax to take the road is so great that none of them can pay it.

they are in the midst of a harsh winter, and people are falling ill. they beg medicine from their king, and they’re ignored. they beg better food for their sick, and they’re laughed at.

robin is thirteen years old, and she has within her the fury to fuel a thousand lifetimes. her grandmother is her only remaining family member, and she’s dying, and no one cares. “if they won’t give us what we need, we must go to the southern kingdom!” she cries.

but the adults look at her with fear and pity and shake their heads. “the tax is too high. even if we pooled our money we have only enough to pay the tax to leave, and not enough to pay it again to come back. and the journey is so long, we might not make it back in time.”

she crosses her arms and gnashes her teeth against her lip, dark eyes glaring. another day passes, and her grandmother grows weaker. “then we shall go through the forest!” she declares, standing in the center of the village. “we will cut through the forest, and the journey will be much quicker than if we took the road which winds around it, and we can return laden with medicine in time to save everyone.”

“it’s too dangerous,” they all insist, “if the wolves don’t kill us, then the cold will. then we will be dead, and so will everyone else, and our village will be gone. no, we cannot do it.”

and robin understands their fear, but she can’t abide by it. people are dying. her grandmother is dying.

fear and logic and common sense mean little to her. she knows what she must do.

she waits until everything is quiet, until the moon hangs fat and bright in the sky. her coat will not do, it is ragged and threadbare, and she is going to the southern kingdom, to petition a king, to walk through miles of snow and sleet, and she will not make it if she wears her coat. so she tip toes into her grandmother’s room, reaches into the back of her closet, and takes out a thick cloak, beautifully made and red as blood. “i’ll bring it back,” she promises, kissing her sleeping grandmother on both cheeks before sneaking out of her room once more.

her hair is a dark brown the same color as her skin, coiled and falling to her mid back. the hood doesn’t sit right on top of it, so she ties it back in a bun at the back of her head, just like her grandmother taught her how to do, and it settles better.

she takes a deep breath, hoping this isn’t the last time she sees this home, and walk outside into the forests no one ever returns from.

she’s noticed missing the next morning. people cry, and some try to say they should look for her, but it’s pointless.

she’s walked into the forest from which no one returns. if the wolves don’t kill her, the cold will.

~

four days later, robin returns, her bright red cloak a violent contrast to the snow all around her. she lugs a picnic basket in her hands, so heavy she strains to carry it. “robin!” the townspeople cry, rushing forward. “you’re alive! you’re alive!”

she falls to her knees, and pushes the basket into the first hands that reach for her. “here,” she says, eyes wide, “here, i got the medicine. tell me i’m not too late.”

and everyone goes silent. they look with disbelieving eyes as the basket is opened, and the medicine is revealed. “you’re not too late,” someone says, “you’re just in time.”

and no one dies, everyone lives, and this horrible sickness doesn’t destroy the village. she says she was nearly killed many times, but managed to escape the massive wolves. she says she petitioned the southern king for medicine, and it was given. she says it was all too dangerous for her to ever do again.

when robin’s grandmother is well again, robin hugs her too tight and apologizes for taking her cloak without asking. “it’s quite all right,” her grandmother says, “here, it’s yours, a gift from me to you. why are you shaking even now, when i am well and the village is well and you are home safe?”

and robin glances to the door, knowing no one can hear them but worrying anyway. “i did not petition the southern king,” she confesses. “the line was too long, and i was worried we didn’t have time. that you didn’t have time. so i snuck into a hospital and stole it. they had few sick and much more medicine than i took – no one will go ill for my actions. but i still stole it.”

her grandmother looks at her for a long time and asks, “are you upset because you feel guilty for taking something that didn’t belong to you?”

“no,” she admits, “i’m upset because i don’t. we were dying, and they had so much, so much more than they needed, when we had none at all. medicine doesn’t last forever, were they just – going to throw it out? throw out all that medicine even though so many people are dying?”

“if you had seen the king, he might have given it to you,” her grandmother says.

“but the line for the king was so long!” robin cries, “it winded its way out the palace doors, to all the way around the castle, and into the courtyard, and out of the palace grounds all the way to pauper’s street. if i waited for someone to decide if i could have the medicine they didn’t need and wouldn’t use, then everyone who was sick here would have died! you would have died!”

her grandmother watches her with solemn eyes. “so you did it, and you’re not sorry. where does that leave you?”

robin squares her shoulders. “i said the forest was too dangerous for me to venture into again. i lied. i stole and i lied, and i’m going to do it again, because those crimes will always be so small compared to the crimes of people who have too much and refuse to give it to people who have too little.”

her grandmother smiles, and tucks her granddaughter’s hair behind her ear, and says, “if you’re going to continue wearing the cloak, you should cut your hair. when i wore it, my hair was to just above my shoulders, and it fit perfectly.”

robin lets her grandmother cut her hair, puts on her cloak, and never looks back.

~

ten years later, the tales of red robin hood are as varied as they are infamous.

a young woman with a cloak as red as blood and a laughing, mocking mouth should be easy to find, easy to stop. yet she darts impossibly through cities, stealing jewels from court ladies’ necks and gold from royal vaults. she plunders hospitals in places where no one gets sick, and takes them to places that are suffering, that are dying. she leaves sacks of gold in desolate villages and in pockets of children whose bellies are swollen with hunger. she’s almost a caught a dozen times, a hundred times, a thousand times – it’s the most exhilarating part, and it’s why she’s always laughing.

it’s been too long since she’s been to her village, and she waves goodbye to a grateful, tearful family who clutches at the string of pearls she’d pressed into the mother’s hands. she’s expecting another child, and kids are expensive.

she steps into the forest from which no one returns, and disappears between the thick trees.

robin walks on her own for a while, then she hears it – the rumble of a pack of wolves running in her direction.

she’s laughing by the time they make it to her, arms wide for the pure black wolf that barrels into her and knocks her to the ground. “you are too reckless,” musta says, he and his pack so much bigger than any other normal wolf could grow to be. “what if it was not us? we are not the only dangerous beings that roam in these woods.”

“perhaps,” robin says, beaming, “but you are the most dangerous, and you and your kind have made it known that i’m not to be harmed. i am safer in this forest than i am in any city in this country.”

“that is because you are a wanted thief with a reward for your head in every city in this country,” musta says. he finally lets her up, and robin waves a greeting to the rest of the pack, reaching out to scratch the ears of every wolf in her reach.

she shrugs, “details have never been my strong suit, you know that.”

there’s a wheezing sound as several wolves laugh at once. musta growls, but not loud enough that any of them bother to quiet themselves. “are your returning to your village?” he asks.

she nods, “i don’t have anything for them, i just – miss them.”

musta gives a great sigh, “come along, we’ll take you most of the way. if you’re with us, then we can ensure you don’t get into any trouble on the way there, at least.”

there’s more wheezing wolf laughter as robin climbs onto musta’s back, and he takes his place as leader in front of them, directing them all in a steady lope toward her village.

“it feels like cheating,” she says, knowing he can hear her. “brave warriors and soldiers and knights come into this forest, yet i’m the only one who gets to leave.”

musta scoffs, “they are not brave, they are foolish, and then they are delicious. you are brave. who but you has ever been brave enough to show us kindness, to bare your throat and ask to trespass instead of assuming the forest was yours to claim?”

“there will be others,” she says confidently, “one day the whole world will be full of people who ask to travel through your forests, full of people who don’t hoard what they don’t need, full of people who have what they need and how much they need and never have to worry that it won’t be enough.”

“on that day, you won’t be needed anymore,” musta says, darting through and around an especially thick clump of trees.

“good,” red robin hood says, “then i will spend my days playing with you and sneaking into lavish parties just to steal the food, and i will never stray more than a day’s ride from my village. i don’t want anyone to need me musta, that’s the point. i don’t want people to have needs at all, just wants. just a life of wants, with sturdy homes and full bellies and healthy bodies, and never any worries that they’ll be without any of them.”

~

red robin hood was always there for those who needed her. she wanted to be the one thing they didn’t have to worry about losing, the one thing they could always depend on.

as long as there were people with too much, and others with too little, red robin hood was there, a blood red cloak and mocking grin, ready to even the odds.

just a little.

  read more of my retold fairytales here