#how to spot a secret terf

[lettersiarrange]

hey are you a terf ? you've been reblogging stuff from radfems ...

No, I'm not a terf, I support trans people 100%. Also terfs are uncomfortably cozy with the alt-right and that's uhhh... a whole other layer of awful.

But I think I may be following a secret terf? Tumblr keeps showing me these posts that are like "liked by someone you're following!" And I follow 4k people so I'm not like. Keeping track of anyone but my mutuals. And some of the posts tumblr shows me are obviously terfy which makes me go HMMMM but then some of them seem fine? So it's hard for me to tell the difference between "posts tumblr reccomends me that are normal and in line with the regular leftist and feminist things I'm into" vs like "posts tumblr reccomends me because they're liked by whatever secret terf I'm following and have suspicious undertones that aren't immediately obvious to me". I'm certainly not intentionally following any terfs or following anyone who publicly identifies as a terf* or puts terf shit on my dash but I'm apparently following someone who doesn't blog about terf shit but LIKES terf shit (and I think it might be a fandom blog so that makes it harder to identify) and then those likes show up on my dash and it's not always obvious that it's terf shit or from a radfem blog-- it's just a random posts from a url I don't know. And sometimes the posts themselves are fine on the initial read.

So pls let me know what the radfem blogs in question are so I can identify and remember them if they pop up on my dash again

*caveat that I've been on this website for 10+ years and follow 4,000+ people and it's theoretically possible that a blog I followed multiple years ago that I never see on my dash now publicly identifies as a terf, but I'm not gonna go through all 4k of my following to try and find out if any of them have become publicly shitty in a way that doesn't affect my dash in the years since I've followed them. People get unfollowed as they bring shitty views to my attention. Hence the conundrum with the undercover terf bc they don't post terf shit, they just like it.

[lostloveletters]

One of Those Nights (Sonny Corleone x Reader)

Summary: You’re Sonny and Sandra’s go-to babysitter, and when Sandra’s out of town for the weekend, Sonny needs all the help he can get.

Note: College-aged female reader, but no other descriptors are used. I listened to Donna Summer while writing this lol. Anyway, my first Godfather reader-insert fic! Do not interact if you're under 18, a terf or radfem, or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: Implied age gap, power imbalance, cheating. Sexually explicit content involving unprotected sex and Sonny's canonically huge cock. A little bit of praise kink. Do not interact if you're under 18.

Your eyes fluttered open from your half-asleep stupor at the sound of the front door’s locks clicking. Sitting up on the couch, you quickly smoothed out your blouse and skirt. You just barely made it into the kitchen when Sonny got in.

“Sorry I’m back so late. I wanted to be home to put the kids to bed—“

You shook your head, smiling. “It’s fine, Mr. Corleone. Frank and the twins are already asleep. There’s some sausage with peppers and onions in the icebox if you haven’t eaten. I can heat it up quick on the stove for you.”

“Jesus, you’re already doin’ us a favor staying the weekend while Sandra’s outta town,” he said, shedding his tie and undoing the first few buttons of his shirt. “And how many times do I gotta tell you, you can call me Sonny.” He playfully pinched your cheek. “I’m not that old yet, am I?”

“No,” you giggled. “Sorry, Sonny.”

The kitchen's layout was almost second-nature to you at that point, having done plenty of cooking for Sonny and Sandra's sweet kids when you babysat them. You grabbed a frying pan, setting it on the stovetop and pouring in a few drops of olive oil before turning on the flame. By the time you got the plate you saved for Sonny out of the refrigerator, the oil was sizzling, and the scent of sweet peppers and onions filled the kitchen again when you’d scraped the contents of the plate into the pan. 

Sonny was quiet behind you, save for him tapping his freshly lit cigarette against the porcelain ashtray on the kitchen table. You knew the sound well. His gaze burned through your back to your rapidly beating heart as you became increasingly aware that you were alone with him, the man who you lusted after in quiet guilt, because he was married and you were his children’s babysitter, for Christsake. 

After a few minutes, the sausage with peppers and onions appeared thoroughly reheated, and you transferred the meal back onto the plate. You grabbed a nearby loaf of crusty bread, cutting a piece for him and placing it with the rest of the food.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” Sonny said, grabbing the plate from the counter.

“Anytime.”

You returned to the living room, tuning the radio to the station that was broadcasting Lights Out, a late night horror show that always sucked you in no matter how hard you tried to remind yourself it was only a radio story. At least it’d get your mind off of Sonny, out of the gutter–or into a different one at least. You sat on the couch, fidgeting with your hands as you let yourself get lost in the host’s voice as he told the latest tale of terror.

You nearly screamed when Sonny appeared in the living room with his plate of food and asked, “You listen to this garbage?”

“It usually scares me into staying awake.”

He snickered to himself, taking the spot on the couch next to you. “For what?”

“My roommates and I play it in the dorm during finals to keep us up when coffee doesn’t cut it.”

“How’s college goin’ anyway? Straight As, right?”

“I made the dean’s list last semester.”

He shook his head. “Smart and beautiful, whatever lucky guy ends up with you is gonna have his hands full.” He glanced at your chest, his eyes lingering on your breasts for a moment before going back to his food. “Your cooking might be a little better than San’s. Don’t tell her I said that.”

You smiled, keening at his compliment. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

“You didn’t have to stay up for me, you know.”

“I know, but I wanted to.”

“Why’s that?”

You faltered. “I just wanted to see you.”

He smiled, amused by your answer. “You’re sweet. Gonna give me a toothache if you keep that up.”

“Is that so bad?”

Sonny shook his head as he set his plate down on the coffee table. “‘Course not.” He got up to turn the radio off, the sound of his voice engulfing you in a warm haze, “Don’t get a chance to be alone with you enough.” He placed his hand on your knee when he sat back down, rubbing his thumb against your stocking-clad leg, the feeling frustratingly electric as the thin fabric was all that lay between the skin-on-skin contact you craved from him.

Your lips parted, trying to conjure up a response, but only managing a shaky breath and a weak nod of agreement. 

“We don’t gotta do anything you don’t wanna do, doll,” he whispered, his voice low.

“I want you, Sonny,” you assured him. 

He kissed you with a passion you swore only existed in movies, not the hesitant or sloppy handling you’d experienced from past boyfriends, but the certainty of a man who knew exactly what he wanted. Heat rushed over your skin at the confirmation that he wanted you, his hands on your body, sliding up your skirt as he grabbed your ass, pulling you closer to him so that you were practically straddling his lap. You steadied yourself on his biceps, giving them a squeeze, letting yourself feel him, acknowledge your desire for him that had been latent until then.

You moaned into his mouth, his tongue capturing the sound, claiming your expression of desire as his. And who else would it be for? You’d always found him handsome and charismatic, always were a bit too curious about what was behind each vaguely flirtatious comment or sly wink he’d send your way when no one else was looking. 

“Sonny, where–where should we–”

“We can do it out here, but you gotta be quiet. You can do that for me, right?”

You nodded eagerly.

Hunger glistened in his dark eyes as he smiled wolfishly. “Attagirl.”

A whimper escaped your lips at his praise, the way he made you feel naked with just his gaze. You unbuttoned your blouse, letting it slip from your arms and tossing it aside onto the floor. Sonny pulled you onto his lap, burying his face in the crook of your neck while he kneaded your breasts through your bra. Soon, that wasn’t enough, and he pulled them from the cups, his hands on your soft skin as he squeezed. His thumbs brushed over your nipples. You gasped. You wanted his hands on you like that all the time, had imagined–secretly hoped, even–that he’d do it one day while you were in the kitchen or in the narrow hallway to the bedrooms, that he’d grope you, kiss you, do something to make you stop feeling so crazy about him. In that moment you realized getting what you wished for only made you want him more.

His lips burned deliciously against your skin, and you groaned at the gentle bites he left on your neck and shoulders. You rocked your hips against his, feeling his hard cock straining through his pants, desperate for more friction against your pussy. 

“You feel that? You feel what you do to me?” he murmured against your tender skin.

“I need you,” you whined. “Please, Sonny.”

“Alright, doll. Lay back for me, alright?”

You did as he asked, shifting off of his lap to lie back on the couch. You watched intently, hungrily, as he unbuckled his belt, pulling his cock free from his pants, slowly pumping his length in his hand. You nearly choked. Sandra had made jokes about Sonny’s size before, ones that made your face heat up in embarrassment at her talking so crudely about him, but you’d always thought she was exaggerating. 

“Oh my god,” you breathed, silently wondering if he could even fit inside you, an almost morbid curiosity only further fueling your desire.

A tender concern spread across his face as he searched yours for any sign of hesitation. “You sure you’re alright with this?”

You nodded. “I’ve wanted you in a bad way for so long.”

“How bad?” he asked, his voice husky and low.

Your lips nearly touched his as you whispered your answer. “Shameful.”

He kissed you again, this time with an intensity that nearly knocked the wind out of you. His fingers dug into the waistband of your panties and stockings, pulling them down so you could kick them off, ending up with one leg hanging off of the couch, exposing your wet pussy for him. You buried your fingers into his hair, the kiss desperate and wanton, your mouth open for him in a soft gasp as his pushed his tip inside you. 

It wasn’t enough, the primal part of your brain screamed. You needed more. Digging your nails into his scalp, you lifted your hips, taking more of him in you.

“Don’t hold back, Sonny. I can take it,” you said.

He licked his lips, staring at you for a split second before determining you meant what you said. He filled you, your pussy clenching around his cock as he thrust into you, finding a rhythm that would’ve been painful if you weren’t already wet for him. 

“Y’know, I used to get off thinkin’ about this,” he grunted, “bending you over the kitchen counter or up against the bathroom door.”

“Sonny–I–”

“You know how long I’ve wanted you? Now I’ve got my pretty college girl coming apart for me.”

“Oh my god–fuck–Sonny–” Your heart was pounding in your ears, eyes struggling to stay open as his thrusts became deeper, more erratic. He was close, his cock twitching inside you, hitting that spot you’d only ever reached with your fingers before. No faking it, no having to do the heavy lifting yourself. 

He had to put his hand over your mouth when it hit you, white hot pleasure bursting in your brain, pulsing through your pussy as you grabbed at him, digging your fingers into his arms to ground yourself, feeling as though you’d lose control of your body otherwise. Your moans were muffled, incoherent nonsense as he fucked you through your climax to reach his. With another hard thrust, he came inside you. Overwhelmed by the sensation, your hips bucked and your pussy clenched hard around him, milking his cock as he came.

“Look at you, takin’ it all–fuck–” Sonny hissed out through gritted teeth, trying to maintain what little self-control he had as to not make too much noise. “So fuckin’ good for me–”

You whined at that, your overstimulated, fucked-out brain going into overdrive. You wanted to be good for him. You were good for him. 

You weren’t sure when it got so still, so quiet, but the only sound in the room was your and Sonny’s heavy breathing. He pulled out of you, your pussy feeling achingly empty. You looked at the ceiling, mildly aware of Sonny staring at you.

“How're you feeling? I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he asked.

“I’ll be lucky if I can walk tomorrow,” you said breathlessly. “But that was great. Really I–I don’t know what else to say.”

He caressed your cheek, bringing your attention back to him. “I’m gonna get you a towel, alright, sweetheart?”

You nodded, smiling a bit when he kissed your forehead before disappearing down the hall to the bathroom. And there were still two whole days left before Sandra got back. You smiled wider.

[indigos-stardust]

Four Keys: Buwe (Blue)

(reblogs appreciated)

This is Buwe! (pronounced similarly to Dew), he's this au's Blue! Buwe's people, Selkie Folk, live in different communities on arctic Islands that rely on fishing seasons to survive.

Unfortunately, a horrible sea ice witch threatened them. She threatened to freeze all the sea, the sea that gave them their fish and their life, unless they paid. With wealth or manpower. Their tribes are like brother and sisters.

Paying her, it would have debilitated them until there was nothing left. It would kill them. Going against the other tribes would kill their souls. It was a trap to let her get more power. With the walls of ice surrounding them, and air so frigid no messenger bird could be sent, there would be no help to free them.

Buwe decided, that if she wanted a warrior, he would give her one. One that would take the breath from her lungs as he strangled her. No sick child of his home, his tribe of Kunae, would die again, because of her. Coughing blood and becoming brittle.

He found a weak spot in her ice walls and after nights of hard work in secret, he left. Filled with rage, knowing he'd never survive making it to the other tribes, he decided to go straight to the mouth of the beast. Her little hideout, hidden in the ice, under the freezing water.

He's never seen a place so beautifully sculpted, yet so revolting. Patterns of swirling ice with windows to the wide ocean outside, columns fashioned with utmost care. Icy statues of figures posed beautifully appear along the walls. The bones of children as adornments. Red stained fabrics, draping down the entrances.

It's nothing like the castles he's learned about from books, its far too small and the design itself is far too close to home. But he knows that's just now, she wants to expand this. She wants more. She'll build it out of pearly white bones if she has to.

He catches her by surprise, while she's tinkering with some sort of map. Planning for the attacks she'll lead them in, when they all crack and serve her in their grief. When they let her take control of their very minds with a binding oath made of pure dark magic.

She's amused at first. She knew how great of a warrior, and determined a man he was. She reminds him of her offer. To be hers. Only the finest would be hers, after all. He's sick. This monster, the way she talks, the way she watches him. It's nothing but a freaking game.

"No? Pity, Kunae man, but I don't want to kill you ,you know... Such a wasteful thing, yes?"

He stands in silent fury. He's ready to fight, to end this.

"Fine then, you can be, another one of my... perfect sculptures. My favorite one, in fact. That way, you could stay by my side forever, hm?"

She steps to him, closer and closer. He will not be afraid.

"Even back then... So brash and brave, when I came, I just adore you..." her hand caresses his face, he's tense, " That's the face I want to keep for myself forever."

His dagger lurches into her gut, but not before a thin blast of ice blasts off forcing them apart. Buwe moves, the end is near. The end of suffering, or the end of any chance of hope. The end of her, or the end of him.

Buwe nearly dies in that fight. He was fighting, on her terf, already weakened, with his own ability already diminished from the hunger. But the rage fuels him on, and he knows he will End Her even if it only happens during his last dying breath.

She gives a final attack of defense, he got too close, his grand tactical mistake made out of desperation. Her eyes say the words he can't hear. It's the blessing of a curse. He can feel his legs freezing over, the ice in his bones spreading and paralyzing reaching itself tendrils outward. The sound of her cracking neck is nearly mute in the water, an endless abyss of the dark. It's the most beautiful thing he's ever heard. The light leaves her eyes.

He tries, Buwe really does, to transform again into a selkie, to let him swim to the surface, and maybe reverse her curse just long enough to see his home again. Just the walls and the glistening shining snow, that the children would soon play on again. He manages to transform, but it's too late. Every thought slows, muffled and pained. He will be lost, but he won, for them. That's all that matters. The world is deafening, as he sees the blackening ocean turn icy white. The world is dark again.

@slaingelo @vamqiredove @shadylink enjoy lol, it gets worse probably

[catgirl-kaiju]

i'm saying this as a trans man and someone who has watched this infighting that seems to be brewing for a long while so don't think i want to continue it further by dragging you in the mud of it all especially after seeing that you already get targeted by terfs i for one don't even follow genderkoolaid and have a lot of bad takes but i know that their good ones do circulate in my circles for things like databases for trans man hate crimes and what have you things that are invaluable to trans people to have as support in the community the baggage behind a lot of these words that get thrown around like "transandrophobia" just leave a bad taste in my mouth and i feel like if they will have any validity in academia and social justice all the theory will get ironed out in the next few years and so i just don't see any use defending THE WORD let alone THE SLUR THAT MANY USE but i think that it needs to be understood that the word """"transandrophobia"""" is not a organized school of thought with everyone attached to some discord group that has secret infighting targets and takes pot shots at trans women all i ever see is people using the word, talking about WHY THE SLUR IS A SLUR, and wanting to talk about problems trans men face without always having to use the word "misandry" because it is deeply upsetting that in so many ways we are born women, we live as women, and will never escape womanhood i feel like not being able to escape the things people perceive you as and the assumptions and fears (especially the fears people think are justified when they are very much not) are a universal trans experience and so it really hurts to just see people spot a basic word like "transandrophobia" being used in a post and deem an entire group of people bigots i see trans mascs and intersex people do the same for "tme/tma" where they just totally avoid anyone who uses these terms its tearing the community apart and making it harder to remember how much we have in common and bigots want us to be alone and defenseless like that... sorry that this was long winded, i'm sure you've heard all of this before i just felt i needed to vent because its really not about the blog its about the general way people navigate in fighting genderkoolaid is not someone i'm really willing to defend, let alone the other blogs that get tossed around that have been in heavy water so i hope i've made that clear here at the very least

hey i don't really follow what you're saying here. i'm not sure what slur the slur you're referring to is, and i'm very unclear what your point is abt transandrophobia. i'm also confused abt which intersex people u are referring to that don't like the terms tme/tma. i'm intersex and use those terms, and i've seen other intersex folks actually prefer those terms for discussions about transmisogyny because of how it shifts the focus away from very binary way that sex is talked about in the AGAB model.

this is, in general, confusing and makes me uncomfortable in ways i can't really articulate atm. i think chief among them is a kind of "but, what about me" vibe i'm getting from this at a time i am being more vocal than ever abt how transmisogyny affects me and other tma folks.

although i'm not sure what your stance on the term "transandrophobia" and the ideas behind it are, i can say that very much disapprove of it for reasons others have articulated so much better than i could. i think issues that uniquely affect trans masc folks are worth talking about, but i think the framing of conflating those issues with the way transmisogyny functions is just the wrong way to go about it. much like how "misandry" is not really a helpful way to talk abt the ways that cis men are affected by patriarchal systems, as those issues are not equivalent to the way misogyny functions. very telling that before the term "transandrophobia" was used, the same ideas were being described with the term "transmisandry"

[vexillologyisenjoyable]

dimension 20 seasons that I’ve watched, ranked(spoilers obviously):

A starstruck odyssey, without question my favorite. Basically every character in this went hard. The plot was fun, the hijinks were delightful, there were the moments that just hit the spot(the house always wins, ‘how did you know there was going to be a plinth in this fight’, beating up a guy and being like oh. that didn’t really do anything but we beat him up, snake eyes, and so many more), just the whole vibe of the season was off the charts.

the seven. I’ve probably laughed the hardest in my entire life while watching this season. It is second to starstruck simply by virtue of not being an intrepid hero season.

mentopolis. A city in a mind. The whole season takes place in about a minute or two. Dan FUCKS. Conrad Shintz, who is so sad and so funny. The fix, with his… fun… facts. Imelda Pulse, with a very high class air who will do the stupidest shit on a whim. Anastasia Tension, who has the most indescribable vibe. Hunch Curio, who will get into a fight with Fight itself. A conspiracy, a philosophical thing, a stolen birthday cake, truly this season had everything.

Misfits and Magic. I probably wouldn’t like this season if I was British, but I’m American so it’s funny when they make fun of British people. Nice how it works like that. The story about how friendship is a stronger tether than dark magic(where have I heard that before?), a story made in the setting created by a transphobe, where they proudly proclaim ‘fuck terfs’. Brennan plays a pc. Aabria dms. All is right with the world.

Burrow’s end. An all around fantastic season. An amazing cast. Brennan pc. Aabria dm. All is right with the world. They play stoats, hats are an important subplot, there’s meta themes about imperialism and colonialism. Also Shiobhan and Izzy play siblings.

fantasy high. With two and a half seasons, it’s one of the most well known. Freshman year is a solid 7/10. Sophomore year is a solid 8.5/10. Junior year isn’t finished yet, but so far it’s going strong. Some incredible bits came out of those seasons.

Neverafter, some cool themes were hinted at but never came to pass, most of the characters were good, but some didn’t really hit the mark, overall a decent season.

a crown of candy. King Lou! This season was good, I can see why other people might like it, but it wasn’t for me personally. Saccharina wasn’t the turn off, to be clear. She was a fine character and Emily deserved none of the hate.

unsleeping city. I know some of y’all really love it but idk it just isn’t that great. Sophie is an incredible character. Ricky Matsui my beloved. Very ok season.

also I didn’t finish acofaf but I got a couple episodes and and it was incredible. The secrets! The lords of the wing! K. P. Hob! I based on of my pcs on Hob, that’s how good he was(flint if my irl friends see this). Rue! Andhera and the duel between him and hob was so good. “Me, the slippiest boy?” Followed by just being yoinked. I would put this in the top three if I finished it, which I don’t intend to. I do consider it worthy of a top three spot, but i haven’t finished it so I’m just putting it down here as a footnote.

[pooks]

okay, so i don't really advertise this because frankly, i do NOT agree with a fucking terf's ideas and therefore, she tainted a beloved book series she wrote and ultimately destroyed my childhood

but then i decided "fuck it, it's a fanfiction and she doesn't have any say in what i wrote or even make money of it"

also i made it gayer. so take that!

anyho, this is my HP/TMA 90s AU fanfiction that turned from a stand-alone story into a flippin series.

so imagine this; canon divergence happens in pre-OotP, Percy doesn't take Fudge's promotion offer (partly because that is sus, partly because web-related shenanigans) so he gets fired instead and what does our lovely ginger nerd find instead? the magnus institute.

so Elias takes a look at this boy and is like "yes, he will do nice for an Archivist" and hires him on the spot.

(and if case you're wondering, this is a TMA where it's set in the 1990s instead of the 2010s)

so we get an archive crew with four assistants and an archivist who has no idea what he's even doing, but he is determined and he needs to keep his wizard status as a secret

that's how this was created;

https://archiveofourown.org/series/3516304

ps. the second season-story is in progress. ;)

pps. i cannot stress this enough, but i DO NOT support the author in anyway and she can throw herself into the sun, for what i care. also i treat the characters better and i made it all better and gayer, because i can.

[meadow-brook]

FinClan Tales - Chapter 2 The Starstone - part 1/3

“Do you recognize where this might be?” Olivepelt asked. She was sitting on one of the dusty floors of the ship in the area Finstar had chosen as his den, with the book open in front of her. The large pointed stone protruding from the center of the ship had destroyed most of its interior, though the flat stone nuzzled next to it allowed for a nice ledge for future Clan meetings. Still, the two rocks did not leave much room for shelter. Finstar decided to make his private quarters in the front of the ship, where a big gap in the roof allowed him to use the boulders and smaller rocks as steps into the floor below. There was not much shelter if it rained other than a small overhang of wood, but Finstar had decided he could cover the hole with bramble and foliage if he must, and if he had nine lives, he could spare a few in the cold anyways. Chestnutback had mused that he wasn’t taking his new job seriously, but Finstar had dismissed her with a nonchalant flick of his tail.

Now, Finstar and Olivepelt were alone in the den. Olivepelt could hear Currentkit mewling for Firebird on the floor below them in the nursery, but even if the cats could hear them, this information wasn’t particularly secretive. Olivepelt was pointing a claw at the inky image of a large stone, flecked with what she assumed to be stars. It looked as if it were on top of a pile of boulders, or perhaps a hill or mountain, but it was hard to tell from this single image. The word “Starstone” was scribbled above it. The only other useful information was the drawing of an unknown silhouetted cat, who seemed to be resting underneath the stone with their nose touched to the surface.

“Oh, that’s a tough spot,” Finstar mussed, and Olivepelt gave him a confused look.

“Is it hard to get to?”

The pale tom shook his head. “Every cat who lives around here knows about that place. I’ve never heard it called the Starstone, but it’s unmistakable. Over that way,” he vaguely pointed along the shore with his tail, “is this huge stone, on top of a pile of boulders. It’s so shiny and smooth, it reflects the light of the stars.”

“Oh that’s great then! We can head before nightfall and—”

Finstar cut her off with another wave of his tail “It’s not just known for its beauty. Below that hill of boulders is a series of tunnels that run under the stream from the sea. A bunch of loners live there. Rogues, I’d call them, with how vicious  they are. They never let any cat step paw on their terf.”

Olivepelt bit back a wail. “But we have to go. It says here,” Olivepelt tapped the book with her claw, “a leader cannot lead without nine lives granted by StarClan.”

Olivepelt studied the older tom’s face, noticing a hint of skepticism amongst the concern in his heather blue gaze. She guessed these rogues weren’t the only reason Finstar was hesitant to visit the Starstone, though she wondered if they were part of the reason the original Clans left their territory. How could warriors connect with their ancestors if they were blocked from their only meeting place?

“Why don’t we go talk to them,” Olivepelt suggested.

“Not everything around here can just be solved by talking, Olivepelt. Your kittypet roots are showing. Life is never that soft.”

Olivepelt dug her claws into the wood underneath her. “We have to at least try. If we leave late enough, we might be able to sneak onto their borders anyways. And if we do run into rogues and can’t get to the Starstone itself, maybe we can find something nearby as a substitute. You have to share tongues with StarClan. Otherwise, you’re just as vulnerable as the rest of us.”

Finstar studied Olivepelt for a long moment and then sighed. “Fine. But we need to take one other cat with us, just in case. I’m assuming the Starstone needs to see the stars for it to work, yes?” Finstar continued when Olivepelt nodded. “We’ll leave at sunset. It isn’t terribly far.”

[jacobseedisbabygirl]

Far cry 5 characters react to their s/o eating shredded cheese at 3 Am in the morning:

I was watching TikTok when this idea popped into my head, enjoy! ;)

{Pro-shippers/racists/TERFS/LGBTQIA+Phobes DNI}

Joseph Seed:

C o n c e r n

"Dearest. Why are you eating shredded cheese at 3 am in the morning?"

Almost convinced you're being possessed because 3 am is "the witching hour"

He had woken up to an empty bed, worried as to why you weren't there with him.

He made his way downstairs, still barely awake, only to find you standing in front of the fridge, eating a bag of shredded cheese

He manages to bribe you to come back to bed, promising to buy more later

Jacob Seed:

Just stands there, face palming.

The two of you stare at each other for a hot minute.

"Pup.. What the hell are you doing? It's 3 am." He sighs.

You tell him you were hungry, making him burst out laughing.

"I'm dating a goblin." He states.

He goes over, cuddling you in the spot as you munch on the cheese.

John Seed:

Babe wtf

"Babe. Out of everything you could eat, you chose the shredded cheese?"

He gives you a playful, judgmental glare.

He just goes over and picks you up, ignoring your protests

"Sweetheart it's shredded cheese. You'll live."

Faith Seed

"Baby?!"

She just stands there, laughing at the sight.

She actually joins you before you eat all the cheese.

As it turns out, Faith Seed has a secret gremlin side

Pratt

"Deputy. Light and love of my life. WHY?!"

He breathes, concerned.

He rolls your eyes as you flip him off, continuing to eat the cheese

He goes over and hugs you from behind

"How can I convince you to come back to bed and stop fucking inhaling shredded cheese at 3 am in the morning?"

Sharky

This man would be so damn dramatic about it

"Without me?! Traitor!!"

He pouts before you go over and share the cheese

The two of you sit in the middle of the kitchen and eat shredded cheese, laughing with each other

End!

[hollowboobtheory]

ok i guess we need to have a talk

this is the lipstick lesbian flag

the creator was known to be transphobic and believed in butch privilege, among other stuff. it was inspired by the bear flag.

we removed the lipstick mark in order to create some distance from the original creator as well as to be inclusive to all lesbians, including butch and trans lesbians.

however, many butches didn’t feel represented by the flag, so eventually this version was made.

now as you can see, it’s a recolor of the previous flag. it’s not a different design, just a recolor.

next we got this one. are you noticing a pattern?

lesbian flag of theseus.

the point is why are you out here thinking that one of these flags is so awful and hateful, here use this recolor of that same flag instead. hell, even the creator of that last flag frequently gets hate and accused of being acephobic (she made like one comment as a teenager that she apologized for)

When will we be sufficiently distanced from the original? after the next tweak? after five more? because lbr, these are all the same flag. yeah, even the bear one. same flag.

Idk maybe don’t waltz in and start berating lesbians for the flag situation. maybe just shut the fuck up. maybe stop hyperscrutinizing everything a lesbian does. Maybe stop treating lesbians like either proto radfems who are moments away from going mask off at any moment or poor ignorant beans who must not know anything.

I get it, you don’t want to examine the fact that you’ve fully internalized the “lesbians are unhinged man hating sjw feminazis” stereotype.

Maybe just shut up about the flag situation. Shut up. Just shut up.

No, there is no secret terf symbol. Do the work to learn what transmisogyny is, how it works, and how to spot it.

Waltzing into someones inbox unprompted and telling them they’re using the wrong flag is condescending at best. And I’m not vaguing a specific person because this has happened numerous times to me. But I am gonna start blocking people for doing it.

This is not very eloquent or detailed because I’m tired but just. Shut up.

[lettersiarrange]

Since I just checked my ask box for the first time in a hot minute:

Just a note that tumblr doesn't tell me when I have new asks or messages and I rarely check my notifications. Helpful corrections of misinformation/any messages in good faith are appreciated (though it's possible I won't see them until weeks later, sorry), but if something I reblog angers you enough you feel the need to get hostile in my askbox on anon, I reccomend the unfollow button.

I'm also not comfortable posting asks asking for any sort of donations/directing people to your blog for donation purposes, sorry :// I just don't have time to vet asks like that

[malibumiu]

[Shy stud Makoto AU]

for @makoto-naegi-ultimate-stud contains naejunko this one is just fluff

----

Makoto sighed as he leaned back against the grass, he adjusted a few times just to get settled on the ground normally he would use his blazer as a thin blanket of sorts but thanks to his new size. (which remind him that he needed to go to town this weekend to hopefully grab a new one he might have enough if not...maybe sex counts as payment right?) The blazer made use as a makeshift pillow if balled it up enough so if was fine. 

He was a secluded corner on the grounds of school, well it was a bit more in the reserve course territory but none of them really came over to this spot since it was so close on Ultimate’s terf. It was the same Ultimates too close to the reserve course. Which was fine by the stud, it was a place that he found rather sacred even now with his new form, he was away for now at least. From horny classmates and staff, semi-aggressive and overly-obvious jealous guys it was just him and nature. With the soft chirping of birds and gentle winds whispering to him, he closed his eyes and ignored the world around him.

Junko hummed as she trotted around the courtyard, but she wasn’t doing this for a leisurely stroll no no! Junko Enoshima was on a mission for a big guy with a equally big stupid heart, with as big as he was it was a surprise he managed to slip out of any of his peers eye sight. So now she knew at least half of the girls were on a scavenger hunt to find the stud even her own bitch of a sister was. But unlike her and many of those other hussies, she had an ultimate that could even surpass the ultimate detective, she was the ultimate analyst. She could predict anything, and find infinite ways to do said things, but when it came to Makoto even when she first met him she couldn’t predict him. Not him, not his cycle, not anything there was no telling what Makoto Naegi could do despite his average looks. But this time it seemed she was at an advantage.

Taking a turn the fashionista scanned the environment around her, the difference in the area could be told, as one side appear more greener, prestige and well kept compared to the other side of the invisible line where there was particles of discarded items and the grass was more brown and dying she predicted that it at least has week or 2 left before it died completely. ANYWAYS! There was a point where said invisible line ended at the end of it led to a small field that connected to the woods. The grass there was combined making it taller along with the seasonal flowers and fallen leaves and branches scattered about. She walked closer, having a sneaking suspicion that the herbivore man was over here (he was even in a herbivorous habitat how convenient) her suspicion was right as after treading through the grass for a bit she came across his slumbering body indented in the grass. She could make out the outline of his pecs and abs from his tad too tight n’ thin dress shirt, his chest heaving up and down, she wonders if the button straining on his uniform will hold. Muscular arms relaxed as they were situated behind his head, he looked rather peaceful even a bit boyish. His ahoge appeared to be slack for once bobbing along to beat of the wind, she scoffed in amusement. 

She was tempted to just to climb on top of him, maybe surprise him or his manhood both perhaps and maybe worked up enough to the point where he could pound her ass into the ground-.

“Mmm..Junko?” 

A yawn escaped Makoto’s lips as shifted around, his hazel eyes lazily focusing on her. She gave him a smirk as she lowered herself down onto him directly on top of his zipper, she shivered a bit she could already feel his bulge though he was flaccid it wouldn’t be for long beginning to move her hips rubbing herself on him. “The one and only babe~” 

“O-Oh mm” He mumbled letting out another yawn, “Do you wanna join me?”

She stopped, “Huh?” 

“Like for you know a nap you models do take those right?” 

She wacked his abs earning a small yelp from him repositioning herself, legs on either side spread open giving him a nice view of her blacked laced panties she wiggled her hips to try and entice him.  

“Of course I do but~” she wiggled again more aggressively this time, “ Wouldn’t you rather spend some time in me instead?” The image of her getting savagely pounded into the ground with the slight possibility of someone passing by and witnessing their shameless interourse...Ooh just the thought made her tingle with excitement.

“Mmm” Suddenly she felt big hands around her waist suddenly she felt her head squish against something rather soft. The hand moved up from her waist and gently patted her head which felt...rather nice.

“You trying to feel me up with your own chest you hunk?” she teased, rubbing against him her own bosom was rather large, easily overfilling one or even two hands any normal man would be 

practically drooling at the sight of them. But as normal as Makoto claimed to be he didn’t get all blushly or stuttering mess or anything..well not right now at least. 

“W-Wha? Nooo Junko come on just relax with me…” he muttered again, tightening his grip on her waist sealing her fate. 

She let out a dramatic sigh, but still snuggled closer to the man, she had to admit the tight grip he had on her wasn’t an uncomfortable one in fact it was rather comforting…(I-it's not like she liked it or anything!!) She was honestly a little disappointed when he stopped patting her head, she knew the big oaf was probably dozed off into stupid lala land with one of those other bitches. (but she ugh HOPED that it was her, after all it would be rude not to the dream about the fucking hot model laying on him!!) 

“Hey Junko..” His voice came out more timid than normal, more like when she first met him it was so weird to hear it now. “..Thank you for deciding to relax with me and...not alerting everyone.” Junko blinked and slowly went to stare up at him, her usually electric blue eyes were flat and blank with an expression he couldn’t really read...it scared him a bit did he say something wrong? Oh god should he have just done something else? Should he have gone back to his fantasy- A soft and more cheerful sounding laugh filled his ear, Makoto nearly thought to look around because a laugh like shouldn’t have come from the Junko Enoshima but it did! They didn’t even fuck and somehow he broke her!

“Geeeeez Big mac you’re soooooo sappy sometimes it's gross,” She said a sickly sweet voice “Are you that drained from us completely?” ‘’Us’ hah... Us and seemingly every other girl and milf that comes within a mile radius of me.’ It's not that he really minded the stares he got though it took sometime to get used to it. But as much as he enjoyed the girls and their endless endeavors of seduce him which leads more often not to them fucking even he valued his alone time (after all his balls did need to restock, his sperm wasn’t completely everlasting you know.)  

“No! No! It's not that and you know that!..” He sometimes wonders why Junko seems to like to play these kinds of mind games (and why he falls for them), being the Ult Analyst and all but then again a bored Junko often becomes scarily mischievous Junko so its better to entertain her ideas than ignore them. 

“Phuhuhu.. Don’t get a knot in your cock peasant! Of course the court knows why~.” The haughty tone in her voice already told him all he needed to know ‘Of course she knows she always does Makoto.’ 

He rolled his eyes before nuzzling his head back into a comfortable position, letting the sun’s rays beat down the heat making him drowsy. He could feel Junko squirming around before settling down. A comfortable silence formed between the two, the only noise being that of the air around them, for just even a moment it was peaceful in the fields of Hope’s Peak.

“Hey Makoto…” Junko called out softly almost like a whisper, “Don’t get the wrong fucking idea but maybe...could we do whatever the hell this is...sometime…again?” A beaming smile as bright as the near sun in the sky had formed one the stud’s face, how dare it made her sadistic little heart race?!

“O-Of course Junko! Just let me know-” A finger forcefully pressed itself up against his lips, her red pointed nail touched the tip of his nose.

“Shut the fuck up!” she hissed, “Someone might hear us! The last thing I need is those damn hussies trying to steal this away from me!” After whipping her head from side to ensure she saw no one she let out a sigh and repositioned herself yet again, this time laying directly on top of the stud. Their chest squished together she lazily fiddled with a stand of his hair, a neutral expression her face the latter took this as a moment to speak again. 

“I’d be happy to do this again with you Junko, and don’t worry..” he gave her a wink, a twinkle in his eye. “I can keep a secret.”

“Hmph! You better,” she muttered, “Look what you did all that yelling got me worked up! You're going to repay me by being my body pillow!”

“Wha-”

“Let's pop these titties free bitch!” hastily she ripped off the two straining buttons from the top of his shirt, his pecs now somewhat free. She had to move a bit to lay on them more comfortably without her own breast getting in the way but once she got comfortable she found herself dozing off, the soft beating of his heart music to her ears. 

‘Man… girls can be strange.’ (He thinks as a girl types out this line)

Without another thought the stud closed his eyes again, this time there were no interruptions just him, Junko and the sounds of nature around. And in that time n’ moment that's all he cared about.

[bazwillendinflames]

Gravity Falls/LIS2 AU

The last place Sean wants to spend his Summer is in a weird town in the middle of no where, Oregon, reconnecting with a Mother who hadn’t wanted to see them in years in her weird tourist trap. But Daniel is determined to go and his Dad gives Sean little choice but to babysit him.

But soon it becomes clear there is more to Beaver Creek than meets the eye and the strangeness of the town soon unlocks some family secrets and strange abilities. Maybe their Summer won’t be so boring after all.

AO3 

“Lyla, I will die of boredom.” 

“It can’t be that bad,” she replied, her voice a little tinny still. The bad reception was just one of many reasons that Sean was having an awful time. (In the week and a half since they had arrived, he’d already made a list.) 

“Nope, it is exactly as bad as I’m saying.” 

“I mean, come on, you’re Mom’s there. What’s that like that?” 

Sean scowled. “Number one on reasons this place sucks. All she talks to us about is all this weird mystic stuff she likes. Her store is so weird, it’s all crystals and bad poetry.” 

Lyla snorted. “Really?” 

“Yep. Not to mention this is the whitest town ever.” He glanced out the window, where Karen was smoking, notebook in hand and ducked his head before she could spot him. “There are no cool people.” 

“Come on, you have Danny.” 

“I get enough babysitting at home thanks.” He glanced outside again, wondering exactly how long he could bitch on the phone for and call it a break. “Anyway, this place is just making Daniel weirder. He’s convinced this place is magic or something.” 

“That’s sweet. Hey, we used to play witches when we were kids, remember?”

“Hey, you were the witch, I was a manly wizard.” 

That time Lyla actually laughed. “Sure dude. I’ll believe it when I see it.” 

“Anyway, we were into the Harry Potter books, you know before terf-face ruined them. Daniel is into the ancient runes and fake spell cards Mo- Karen sells.” 

“That’s adorable.” 

“Ugh, only you could find him adorable. That’s only because Daniel doesn’t kick you in your sleep-” 

“Did Lyla call me adorable?” 

Sean sighed as Daniel barged in. Not much had changed since home tehre at least, apart from the fact they now shared Karen’s attic room. (Bunk beds, making the being kicked in the shin at night thing even more annoying.) 

“Hey, I’m kinda on the-” 

Daniel yanked the phone and rolled on the bed. “Hiiiiii Lyla. Do you miss us?” 

“Give me that back.” 

He wiggled out of his grap. “Did you know Sean talks in his sleep, it’s so weird-” 

“You would know about weird,” he grumbled, snatching his phone back, only to find the shitty signal had finally cut out on Lyla. “Dude.” 

“Sorry.” Daniel grinned at him. “Hey, I’m helping Mom restock, can you help me reach the top shelves?” 

He checked the time on his phone. He had almost managed a whole brother-free hour. 

“Guess I should I get back to work.” 

“Cool.” Daniel followed him downstairs, bouncing with energy. “Hey, Sean what does terf-face mean?” 

  Sean was stuck behind the register, although the store was still empty. He wasn’t sure why Karen insisted on such early opening hours when no one else showed up. 

He rubbed his eyes, the early start not helped by the fact Daniel had been reading with a torch all night. He had picked up a weird book from the store or something. Of course he would pick up a late night reading habit once they were sharing a room. 

“I brought you guys some toast.” Karen balanced the plate on the top of some unsold art books. (Her organization was as great as her parenting.) 

“Thanks Mom!” 

Sean poked at a black spot under a thick layer of peanut butter. “Yeah, thanks.” 

“I gotta do some inventory but I’ll be back up for lunch.” 

“Can we go to the cool diner? Chris says the milkshakes are great.” 

Karen smiled. “Yeah. Does that sound good Sean?” 

He grunted in response and her grin flickered. 

“Right, work. You boys got this.” 

“We’re not your boys,” Sean muttered, although she didn’t hear. 

“Why are you so mean to Mom?” Daniel asked, his mouth full of toast. “She’s always nice.” 

“Right, she’s been real nice the first nine years of your life.” 

Daniel looked up at him with big eyes. “Sean…” 

“Fine, I’ll try. Put those eyes away Bambi.” 

He smiled. “So, I was thinking the strawberry milkshakes are Chris’ favourite but I like chocolate more so you could get one and we could share?” 

“Huh, yeah, sure.” Sean had only been half listening, distracted by the newest customer. Waking up early suddenly had its appeal. The girl had matted purple hair, an arm full of tattoos and a guitar strapped to her back. She caught him looking and winked. 

“Are you okay Sean? You just went really red and-” 

“What? No. Shut up.” Sean moved into a more casual position, his eyes still fixed on the pretty girl. His elbow knocked the tip jar and it fell off the edge. “Shit-” 

“Here.” Daniel put it back. “Woah…” 

“Good catch Enano.” 

“Yeah. Catch! I totally caught it.” Daniel smiled a little suspiciously. “Hey, you said a swear, you owe me a dollar.” 

“A dollar? It’s only a quarter at home.” 

“Now we’re away from Dad, you’re supposed to be a good influence.” 

“You get a quarter.” Sean dropped the coin in his hand. “Be cool.” 

“What?” 

“Hey boys.” The purple-haired girl leaned against the other end of the counter, an easy smile on her face. Her voice had a faint Southern tang. “So, I come to this town every Summer and I don’t recognise either of you cuties.” 

“I- we- um-” 

His brother beat him to it. “I’m Daniel.” 

Cursing his stammering, he finally managed to introduce himself. “I’m Sean.” 

“Why hello. I’m Cassidy.” 

“Hi. Um, cool guitar. You play?” (Internally, Sean cringed: You play? Why else would she have a guitar?) 

“Yeah, funnily enough. I’m actually here to hand out flyers for my band’s show. Could you hang it up?” 

“Yeah.” Sean took the flyer. “Your show is this Friday?” 

“And every other Friday. You wanna come?” 

“I’m invited?” 

Cassidy laughed. “Yeah sure. It is a concert. You’re lucky you’re cute, City Boy.” 

“City boy?” 

“It’s on your sweatshirt idiot,” Daniel whispered. Seattle Track Meet, 2015. He was frowning in the general direction of Cassidy. “We’re busy Friday so-” 

“No. Nope, I’m not busy. Ignore him.” Sean flattened his hair. “I’ll be there Friday.” 

“I’ll look out for you City Boy. Nice to meet you.” 

Sean waited until Cassidy had left before pumping his fist. “Yes! She called me cute Dan!” 

“You’re the worst.” 

“What?” 

Daniel pouted. “You promised you’d take me camping in the woods Friday. I already brought us marshmallows and walkie-talkies.” 

“Hey, there is plenty of time to camp in those freaky woods. But I only have one chance with a girl like Cassidy.” 

“Wrong, you have zero chances with any girl.” Daniel stomped off to the corner of the store. “You’re the worst.” 

“Dan- come on.” His brother went back to ignoring him. Sean crossed his arms. “Fine. Be like that!” 

There was the only sound of a raspberry in response. 

  “Nope, I’m totally with Danny. That was a jerk move.” 

“What? Lyla, you’re supposed to be my hype man- er woman. You’re always trying to set me up on dates.” 

“Dude, three weeks ago you were so into Jenn.” 

He sighed. “And Jenn was into Derek Anderson. We had ice cream and everything.” 

“Dude, don’t fuck up your relationship with Danny over a dumb Summer romance.” 

Sean buried his head in his pillow. “You sound like my Dad.” 

“Go to this hippy girl’s show next time. You Danny will do the face.” 

“The Bambi face?” Sean groaned. “I have been facing the Bambi face all week.” 

Lyla scoffed. “Is there anything else to add?” 

“Fine. I’ll go camping. But only for the s’mores.” 

“Okay, brother of the year.” 

“Thanks jerk.” 

Lyla blew him an exaggerated kiss. “Aw, love you too.”

Sean grabbed his backpack, moving to shove in his hoodie and torch. Daniel had already shoved one of the walkie-talkies inside. 

“Calling little wolf, we are back on for camping.” 

There was nothing but static on the other end. Sean pocketed the walkie-talkie and headed downstairs, calling his brother’s name. There was no one in the kitchen and only Karen sitting in the living room, chewing on the edge of a pen. 

“Hey, have you seen Daniel?” 

Karen looked up. “Oh, I thought you already left? Daniel passed by twenty minutes ago with the sleeping bags.” 

“That little-” Sean wasn’t panicking, but he was maybe sweating a little more than he had been before. “Um, right. I just forget a…” he scanned the room and grabbed Daniel’s weird book, “scary story. Classic camping right?” 

“Oh. Have a nice time then.” Karen hesitated. “I know you’re not thrilled to be here. But I hope by the end of the Summer we can understand each other better. 

“Me too.” Sean tried to look as un-guilty as possible. “See you tomorrow Karen.” 

  “Daniel!” He yelled, running head first into the spooky mass of woodlands beyond their store. “Dan, I’m sorry okay. Quit hiding!” 

No answer. Sean went digging for the walkie-talkie, now glowing an eerie blue. 

“Dan?” 

The walkie-talkie crackled again- “Sean?” 

“Dan.” He let out a shaky breath. “Hey, I’m sorry I ditched you-” 

“Sean, help!” 

He was clutching the walkie-talkie so hard his knuckles went white. “What’s wrong? I’m coming okay. What’s happening?” 

“Creature- help- monster- ahh!” 

Sean scanned the trees around him, suddenly aware he was lost too. Daniel had been the one eager to explore the woods but he had said it was too creepy and now it seemed he was being proven right. 

“Sean- book- monster-” 

He dug around to find the weird book Daniel had been carrying around all week. He had assumed it was from one of Karen’s displays but now he was looking at it, the journal seemed too real to go with the modern witchcraft bullshit she was trying to sell. The cover was dark blue and the pages thick with drawings and polaroids. 

“Dan, I have the book, what do I need to look for? What is this thing?” 

“Page- tree- monster-” Daniel was breathing heavily. “Hear?” 

“I can hear you,” he said comfortingly, “I’m coming.” 

He held the torch in his teeth, flicking through pages until he came across a few marked with Daniel’s doodles and writing. He seemed to be studying telekinetic powers, complete with a superhero sketch: SUPER /DUDE DAN/ WOLF? ask Sean for name ideas

He finally came across the page that looked like a bush drawn with yellow eyes. 

Dangerous 

camouflage shape shifters 

Hard to photograph shush ma-

Likes dark 

Under the original writing Daniel had added his own note: babies in woods. 

“Hey,” Sean held up the walkie-talkie, “is it these moss creatures? What well?” 

“Sean!” This time Daniel’s voice was clearer, his voice steadier. 

“Dan. What happened? Please tell me you had a good reason to go into the woods alone without telling me or Karen.” 

“Come on, that’s it? Can you yell at me when I’m not being chased?” 

“Okay. I’m coming, where are you?” 

“Where are you?” 

“By some trees. There’s a sign for a lake?” 

“Go to the lake, I’ll meet you there.” Daniel was cut off by some more static. “Hey, stop chewing that Mushroom!” 

Sean followed the signs, hoping Daniel at least would know a way out. How did he know the woods so well already? Was Sean that much of a shitty brother he hadn’t noticed him running off into these haunted-ass woods? 

The lake slowly came into the view but it was empty. 

“Daniel? Dan?” 

The lake was weirdly normal, just muddy water and a few droopy looking frogs. Still, Sean was still on edge, swinging the heavy torch from hand to hand. The faster they got home, the better. 

His relative peace was interrupted by the rustling of tree branches and heavy footsteps. Daniel came barging through the trees, a small bundle of something wrapped in his checked shirt. Something was chasing him and fast- Sean barely had time to move out the way as Daniel crashed into him. Something big and fast ran past. 

“Sean!” Daniel threw himself into his arms. “I’m sorry, don’t yell at me.” 

“I’m not mad. But you did scare the shit out of me.” 

“Sean-” 

“Fine, you get a dollar, let’s just go-” 

“No, look.” 

Sean turned slowly, met with amber eyes and a large face of bark and weeds. The creature sniffed at him curiously. 

“Um-” 

Daniel hid behind him. “Any ideas?” 

“You have the stupid haunted book!” The creature snorted, blowing hot air in his face. “Wait, the book said-” Sean slowly moved for his pocket, finding Dad’s lighter. 

“Dan, on three, we run.” 

“One-” he reached for a branch, “two-” he flicked the lighter on, “three!” Sean held the flaming branch up the creature’s face, dragging Daniel out the way as it squirmed. “What, the light should have scared it off.” 

“Remember when you said you weren’t going to get mad?” 

Sean turned to him, as Daniel revealed the squirming mass of moss in his arms. 

“You stole it’s kid?” 

“I always wanted a puppy! She’s called Mushroom-” 

Seeing it’s child, the larger creature started inching slowly towards Daniel. 

“Put it down! We can’t keep this weird monster-baby!” 

“We bonded!” The larger creature nudged its nose towards the smaller one, poking his chest with a spikey horn. “Okay, I’ll give her back.” 

Daniel held out his arms, placing the small creature on the floor. It wiggled a loose vine that could almost be a tail and followed its parents into the woods. 

Sean punched him in the arm. “That’s for trying to adopt an actual monster.” 

Daniel rubbed his arm. “Ouch.” 

Sean pulled him into a hug. “And that’s for scaring the shit out of me. I’m glad you’re okay though.” 

“Me too.” Daniel smiled. “Hey, now you owe me two dollars!” 

  After all the excitement, the brothers’ settled on camping in Karen’s yard. 

“So, you found that spooky book in a tree and didn’t think to tell me?” 

“You were being the worst!” 

Sean laughed. “Okay, I deserve that. But, next time you find a weird monster thing, tell me. We’re in this together.” 

“Okay promise.” Daniel threw another marshmallow at him. “Sorry I made you miss your concert. I guess Cassidy wasn’t that bad.” 

“Hey, I saved your butt, that’s more important.” Sean took a bite out a s’more. “Hey, there isn’t anything else you’re not telling me right?” 

“Actually,” Daniel held out his hand, a marshmallow hoovering a few inches above his palm. “Surprise?” 

(A boring Summer suddenly looked so much more appealing.)

[star-anise]

hi! hope you’re doing well :) I wanted to ask you a question on something. I identify as a lesbian, and I have noticed that there seems to be...a lot of hate towards the ace community from tumblr lesbians (or at least the ones I follow). I’m curious as to why because seeing that kind of thing leaves a sour taste in my mouth. Anti-ace rhetoric reminds me of terf rhetoric, and I was curious to see if there is some sort of overlap between the two somehow. Thanks!

Hi! I’ll try my best. As a disclaimer, I’m coming at this more as a student of LGBT exclusionary movements than someone who experiences a ton of aphobia, so I’m coming at this by trying to pick apart the underlying philosophies, not someone who spends a lot of time reading the shit aphobes pull out of their asses.

I think, way deep down, the question is: How do we, the oppressed group, feel about people who we do not think are part of our group?

Exclusionary hatred of asexuality, much like TERF thought, comes from the basic idea that there is Us, the Oppressed, and Them, our Oppressors. Our groups have no overlap and are fated to be enemies forever and ever. There is no hope of peace between us. The best life We, the Oppressed, can hope for, is one in which we have completely eradicated our Oppressors from our lives.

Therefore, any hint a blurring of the boundary--a person who might be thought of as the Oppressor existing in the space of the Oppressed, claiming community there--is fundamentally dangerous. They are not able to not be Oppressive; surely they must be there for secret, dangerous reasons, perhaps to infiltrate and destroy this sacred haven.

People who see the world this way can therefore be easily persuaded to believe that trans women aren’t women, that aces and aros aren’t LGBT, and a lot of other things that basically translate to, “They’re not Us, they’re Them, and their very presence here is dangerous.”

This isn't why many lesbians will say they don't like asexuals. The reasons they actually provide are far more scattered and idiosyncratic, and you have to read between the lines. There's the poor fit between many radical feminist models of sexuality and desire and the asexual movement’s not-actually-paradoxical intersections with the sex-positive movement, or the feeling that asexuality “dilutes” a lesbian’s commitment to the Lesbian Community, or the contention that aces are "stealing" resources from LGBT people. 

But none of these seem to explain the deep visceral level of hatred and revulsion that comes with this topic. There are honestly as many radical feminist arguments for the concept of asexuality as against it, and asexuals and lesbians have incredibly strong historical links. To me, the emotional core of Us vs Them is much more important than the intellectual debates through which it manifests. Once you learn to spot the underlying dynamic of “They are not Us, we shall not be fooled, we shall cast Them out as the impostors and frauds and double agents and saboteurs which they are!” you can turn that lens on any community.

There are a lot of reasons Us and Them dichotomies are so frequently terrible guides for communities and activism, but I’ll limit myself to three:

1. Oppression doesn’t actually separate people into Good Blameless Victims and Bad Evil Oppressors. Oppressed groups get rewards for how much they buy into oppressive symptoms--Patriarchy rewards women who follow its rules and withholds those rewards from women who rebel. Capitalism rewards workers who sacrifice their wellbeing for the cause of profit more than those who seem uncommitted to the system. Cissexism rewards trans people who adhere to the gender binary and put a lot of effort into their appearance. Therefore, the first step of dismantling oppressive systems is often unlearning the mental systems by which we oppress ourselves, and then changing the social systems by which we oppress each other. Just because nobody in the oppressor class is around, it doesn’t mean a space will be free of oppression. We have to focus more on how we behave than who we admit.

2. People who want to focus entirely on how they’re oppressed tend to be terrible about caring about the oppression of anyone else. They’re especially bad about checking what privileges they might have and worrying about their potential oppression of people further down society’s ladder than them. There are so many ways society can discriminate against someone. By sex or gender or sexuality, sure; but also by race, and by class, and by disability, and by education, and by immigration status, and so much more. A lot of the acrid taste of single-issue groups is the toxicity they let themselves get away with because they don’t care where their own shit will wash up downstream.

3. It really is possible, even in this fallen world, for people in privileged categories to want to do better and stop oppressing people. I believe that people can stand together in solidarity and alliance, even if their individual struggles are different. The LGBTQ+ community didn’t become a thing in the last century because the oppressions we faced suddenly popped into existence. Rather, the revolutionary moment was that after centuries of oppression, we decided to work together to fight it. The hate we face is literally less important than our decision to back each other up in the face of it. So as disappointing as allies can sometimes be, as imperfect as solidarity is, that isn’t a reason to give up on them. It’s a reason for all of us to try harder to be there for each other.

[eat0crow]

Cliche but can I request flower shop owner Marinette with gang boi Jason?

Dear sweet Anon, you have no idea how weak I am for cliche tropes. I took some liberties here seeing as Red Hood is already a sorta gang leader and just used that! I hope you like my rambly headcanons! I had so many ideas for this au that I really had to try to hold back.

Ground Zero

1) There’s a flower shop right on the edge of Jason’s territory that’s essentially become an urban legend.

No one is actually sure how exactly it’s still standing, it borders two rival gangs, Red Robin’s usual patrol route, and Jason’s terf. There have been at least three gang wars raging on the same street, yet still Miraculous stands as the one neutral spot in all of Gotham. It’s a cute shop, don’t get Jason wrong, but the only miraculous thing about it is that no one has even tried to claim it.

He brings it up once, the keyword once. Because the shop has stood as neutral ground for at least a century, and no one wants to be the one to break that streak. The shop is also cursed apparently, or at least protected by some malevolent force. The building lost a shingle once in the ’80s to a member of the False Facers, and the very next day saw Gotham PD hauling in at least two-thirds of the Black Mask’s operation.

Which is probably exaggerated, right? None of the minor drug lords under Jason want to get into it. The Black Mask doesn’t want to get into it. (He clams up the moment Jason tells him the shop re-opened, apparently, it had closed a year after the shingle incident)

Miraculous, as well as the parking lot it sits on, is the ground zero of Gotham. No crime goes into the lot, no crime goes out. The pots are never tipped over, no one tries to steal even a single rose from the display. No one touches the cute building, even if it’s painted an obnoxious pastel pink that stands out like a sore thumb in the Gotham night. At least, as far as everyone knows—Jason is still kinda skeptical about that. Really, it’s the perfect set up for a smuggling ring.

Tim is there sometimes as Red Robin. All the time really, at least twice a week. Jason has caught him more than once staked out with a pair of binoculars in the windows. A couple of times he even catches him helping the clerk repot plants. Which, yeah, Jason’s met Tim a time or two, he doesn't make a habit of sticking around his family, but the kid never came off as the gardening type.

It’s especially funny though, to see the pictures of Red Robin in a pink apron behind the counter trending on twitter.

He’s tried to go in a handful of times, to offer the owner his protection and whatnot. But each time he tries he forgets what he’s doing before he even turns the handle. Whoever runs this place must have the best luck in the world because this shit has been happening since it was built.

You’re a wayward gang member attempting to talk to the owner, you end up forgetting what you’re doing mid-action, and only start to remember five days later. The building is damaged, so is whatever scheme you’ve been planning. Actually in the shop when you decide to talk business, nope, it’s time for the most inconvenient phone call of your life.

“Why Dick, did you have to call me? I was so close.”

“Jason, are you crying?”

“I finally made it into the door. I’ve been trying for months to get in. But no, your ass gets stuck in your suit, and suddenly it’s time to call Jason. Nope, lose my number.”

2) Apparently everyone, including the fucking demon spawn, has been to Miraculous.

They all get kind of quiet when he brings it up though, Alfred actually leaves the room. Jason may have issues with Bruce, and Dick, and Tim, and don’t even get him started on Damian, but Alfred’s always been the neutral party for them. He’s always been the one they go to, no matter what. Upsetting Alfred is a capital offense. Jason feels...shitty about it.

“Alfred used to go, and get a bouquet there every weak after you died,” Dick tells him, folding his hands together, and settling in. Tim looks uneasy, and far more awkward than usual—which is saying something. “He’d get some white lilies to put on your grave. I went with him a few times, but he hasn’t been back since. I think the shop reminds him of it. When you were...you know.”

“Oh.” Jason really feels like an asshole.

“Yeah, I can’t say I’ve been back either.” Dick rubs the back of his neck like he’s admitting to something secret. “It used to be on my patrol route, back when I was first Robin. It always used to creep me out so I'd avoid it.”

“Really, Grayson,” Damian says with the same air of condescending superiority he always has.

“Hey, back in those days it was an abandoned building. The one that the witch owned! I don’t know about you, but I don’t fuck with witches. No thank you! I like my limbs.”

Jason might actually remember something like that, it’s hard. Like all the memories from before are hard, but he thinks back to being a kid. To growing up in a scummy neighborhood, and hearing people talk about the witching house that no one was allowed near. The one spot Squatters and Junkies, no matter how desperate, wouldn’t step foot in.

“It’s not all that bad,” Tim says. “My mom remembered when it was open the first time around. Mr. Fu was really nice, he used to let her play in the pots.”

“That aside,” Dick says fixing Jason with a half-crazed look. “It re-opened like a month after you died, so yeah, I went there with Alfred a lot. Like once a month a lot. The shop has this thing. You go in, and you’re instantly wrapped up in this nostalgic warm-fuzzy-reliving-my-childhood feeling. It’s weird.”

Tim stares. “I think that’s a you problem. I go in all the time, and yeah, the shop has a nice vibe, but it’s more like a you’re-safe-here thing.”

“You’re both, as usual, utterly wrong.” Damian sniffs. “If anything, the shop feels like coming home.”

The entire table turns to stare at him with wide unbelieving eye’s. Jason can hardly believe his ears...did Damian really just say something like that. The shocked look on even Dick’s face goes a long way in saying just how much no one can believe something so well adjusted came out of the demon spawn’s mouth.

Damian’s blush is priceless, his stutter—yes it’s a stutter no matter how much he denies it—is even better. “I mean to say. It feels familiar. The shop, you walk in, even for the first time, and you feel like you’ve walked through the door hundreds of times.”

Which, huh, because. “I always thought it felt like a warning. You step one foot onto the lot, and it feels like the walls themselves are daring you to start shit.”

3) Despite the hype that's built up around Jason going in, his first visit—No, Marinette that one didn’t count I literally just turned the door handle—is really anticlimactic.

It works like this, Roy asks him to pick up flowers, because Valentine's Day is today, and Kori will know what he's doing the second he tries to make up some lame excuse. Jason will never know how the man could ever be such a bad liar. As far as Kori knows, Jason is doing a typical supply run. Which, he is doing a supply run, even if the thought of cheesy romantic comedy cliches makes him sick.

All the same, Jason takes his role as best bro seriously, even though he has doubts about being able to complete this task. If his previous 52 failures are anything to go by, Miraculous hates him. There are only so many times a man can get maimed before he comes to the conclusion that the building itself has it out for him.

The hornets were what sold him. Not the bees, the hornets.

So with the air of a man who has just been sent out to war, Jason puts on this thickest jacket, his gloves, leaves his phone behind—even if attempt 34 taught him that was a really stupid idea—and braces himself to step inside. Maybe it’s because this is the first time Jason has gone into the flower shop for actual flowers. Maybe his luck is improving. Maybe...maybe the universe is setting him up for something even worse. Either way, it’s the first time the hair on the back of his neck doesn’t stand up the moment his foot hits the floor.

The girl at the counter is cute, just around his age with the bluest eyes he’s ever seen. That says something, because Jason has met Superman. That man's eyes are literally otherworldly. But Marinette’s, Jason has a suspicion this is the Mari Tim is always talking about, her eyes look like they’re glowing.

Jason realizes he’s been standing in the doorway staring, way too hard, when Marinette, that’s what her name tags says, clears her throat. With an air of confidence—Jason is a firm believer in the inherent power of bull shitting your way to success—he walks up to the counter.

“I’m looking for a bouquet,” Her stare is piercing and Jason swears it burns all the way down to his soul. “For Valentine's day. One with roses, and all that shit.”

Marinette huffs, and points to a depressingly empty display shelf. “You, and just about everyone else. Did you place an order?”

“Did I place an..” Jason trails off under his breath. “Please tell me you have something with the name Roy Harper in your registry.”

Marinette takes a moment to glance down, to ruffle through her papers. “I’m sorry, I only have one left, and its got the last name Grayson on it.”

Jason sees his life flash devastatingly fast across his eyes. It ends with him being torn to shreds by one of Roy’s homemade bombs when he comes back empty-handed. There won’t even be enough of him left to throw in a Lazarus pit. Nope, he’ll be sidewalk chalk.

So really he feels no guilt in fleshing his most charming smile, the one that always makes the old ladies coo, and saying. “Perfect, I’m here to pick that one up.”

Marinette takes one look at him draped over the counter, and bursts out laughing. Today is not a good day for Jason’s ego. “I thought you were Roy Harper.”

“No, I’m Dick Grayson.” The words are bitter in his mouth. “But the bouquet is for my friend, and I wasn’t sure what name he put it under.”

“Oh,” Marinette says, a smirk playing across her lips. “You think I was born yesterday. Sorry hon, but you’re not an alternative pick up, and I'll need to see some ID.”

“You expect me to show ID for flowers?..... Really?”

“Yes, I expect you to show ID when you’ve given me two different names, and those flowers are worth over a hundred dollars,” Marinette bites back. “Sorry, but that’s been paid in full, and I’m not going to lose a customer.”

“Okay,” Jason says, taking two crisp bills out of his wallet. It hurts because Roy gave him a twenty, and Jason will always be a cheap bastard at heart. Nevertheless, he likes Kori, she deserves this, even if Roy, who will be begging for mercy later, does not. He has to very consciously remove his hand after sliding them over. The urge to snatch them back is strong. “Listen, I really need that fucking bouquet. I am prepared to pay you double the price Grayson paid.”

Marinette actually looks offended. “Just because everyone else in this city is okay with being bribed doesn’t mean I am. You can keep your money.”

“Everyone has a price.” Jason gives her a look. “Name it.”

“Well, I don’t,” Marinette snaps, reaching down for her phone. “You can take your money, and fuck off. Before I get Red Robin over here to flush you out.”

“And here I was, thinking this was neutral territory.”

“It is.” Marinette stiffens. “This place isn’t under Red Robin’s protection, but he’s still my friend. I won’t hesitate to get him over here.”

“How about this then. The bouquet for protection. I can get Red Hood to claim this place.”

“What part of neutral didn’t you get?” Marinette asks, leaning over the counter and getting into his space. From here, just inches apart, her eyes are iridescent. Blue light toxically dripping out of a cracked glow stick. “Miraculous doesn’t get involved in your shit. You all want to wage war on each other? You want to pedal drugs? You want to smuggle shit? That’s cool, but you keep that away from my fucking shop. Miraculous doesn't get involved, you can all kill each other outside.”

She’s kind of terrifying up close. If Jason wasn’t convinced she would disembowel him, he’d be tempted to kiss her. Consent, however, is sexy as fuck.

Jason knows when he’s fighting a losing battle. “Is there any way. Anyway in hell, that I can get my hands on those fucking flowers?”

“Yeah,” Marinette says sitting back down. “You can call Grayson, and have him give them to you. But aside from that, I’ve seen a lot of shit. Sorry buddy, but you can’t buy me or scare me into anything.”

“I’ll call the sorry bastard up right now.”

“I’m not giving you his number.”

“I don’t need you to give me his number, I have it right…” Jason trails off, suddenly he remembers leaving his phone behind.

4) Jason is a petty asshole who has learned that the secret to getting into the flower shop is to think flowers.

Listen, Jason had to make do with drugstore flowers, and Roy’s disappointed puppy eyes for a month after being kicked out on his ass. To add insult to injury, Tim tracked him down two days later, as he was mid drug bust, to tell him to stay away from Marinette.

Okay, it’s not like he hadn’t already been planning to go back, frankly, the shop is a strategic masterpiece. Half of its cred as an urban legend comes from the fact that whoever claimed it would be given an instant power-up. It’s the One Ring to rule them all. Jason has to go back, and convince Marinette that the Red Hood is the one to ally with. He has to.

So yeah he’s going to go back anyway, but now he really wants to. Because Tim, his replacement, dared him. Maybe a bigger person would back down, what with all the external forces building up around the shop, the legend, the neutrality, the many failed attempts, Tim somehow having a vested interest…well, Jason has never been the bigger person.

Not by a long shot.

The first three times he attempts to return, Marinette meets him at the door. She’s quick about flipping the sign from open to closed. Jason, the first time, had tried turning the handle, whatever magic makes that building hate him, makes it lock up the second the sign changes. It’s not Marinette, Jason watched her. Her hands never touched the lock.

The first person he complains to is Roy, of course, who actually gives him the idea. Roy is a genius sometimes. So attempt four ends with him buying a single sunflower. It’s gaudy as all hell, and also the first thing his hand touched after he spent an hour trying to get Marinette’s attention.

She apparently will only talk to him in the brief thirty seconds she spends cashing him out. Which, yeah, that’s fair.

And so it begins. Every day except Tuesday, the only day the shop is closed, Jason goes in, buys a single sunflower, and talks up the Red Hood.

Even if Miraculous never comes into his fold, this will all have been worth it just to have seen the look on Tim’s face the first time he comes in just as Jason's buying his daily flower.

There’s a small hole burned into his wallet, but Kori loves sunflowers.

Jason’s not the only regular, but he’s the most frequent, by the end of his fourth month he knows all the other regular’s sob stories, and everyone and their mother thinks he's sweet on Marinette. That may be the kind of true by this point. He’s worn her down to where she will talk to him as he browses. Even if she also complains that, “It’s pointless. I already have your sunflower set aside.”

Month six marks a distinct turning point in their relationship. He was upgraded from General-Creep to Recurring-Menace to Okay-I-Guess-We’re-Sorta-Friends-Now a while ago. Month six is the month he gains the title of Permanent-Fixture. It’s marked by him walking in and Marinette forcing an apron on him.

“I told Red Robin when he started coming by, that if he was going to hang around than he needed a reason to. So if you want to hang in Miraculous you’re going to work in Miraculous.”

“Unpaid labor is illegal.”

“No, it’s not. It’s just called volunteering.”

5) Getting together actually takes a while.

Jason is relentless when it comes to his recruitment pitches, but he has standards for fuck's sake. No woman actually enjoys it when men flirt with them on the clock. There’s a whole power imbalance thing that makes him sick to his stomach.

Sure Marinette can take care of herself. She’s a force of nature. Jason had offered to help carry potting soil for her once. One time. That was before he saw her lift the thirty pound bag over her shoulder like an empty sack of rice. Marinette can take care of herself, she just won’t.

Jason has seen more than one scummy fuck harass her. She gets quiet….she loses her confidence, and it’s just so wrong to see a person as strong as Marinette look small. He’s not sure what about blatant flirting and bad pick up lines bothers her so much but—Marinette can never know, and they’ll never tell her that the Red Hood tracked each one of them down. Threats are beautiful things. They just make it all come together.

He is a gentleman, even after he starts working with her. While co-workers flirting with each other isn’t as bad, it’s still kind of awful. The problem is that Marinette is always working, she never leaves Miraculous. Even on her off days.

So Jason, never finds the right time to ask her out himself. All the regulars already think they’re dating. His brothers think they’re dating. Alfred, Alfred thinks they’re dating after walking into the shop one time since Jason’s resurrection. He’s thankful his brothers gave him a heads up—not. Alfred walks in to find him behind the counter with a fluffy pink apron on, even his refined British manners are tested. Jason just knows he’s laughing. He knows.

It happens like this, Jason teams up with Batman and Co. to help with a standard smuggling ring. Nothing difficult, the only reason it should have required all of them was because of the shipment size. It should have been easy. It had been easy.

That is until the Joker shows up, Jason freezes, and takes a bullet straight to the stomach.

Stomachs bleed...a lot.

He doesn’t remember much of what happened after that. Stomachs also hurt a lot, and it’s hard to think coherently when you’re in excruciating pain. Jason, blacked out shortly after Dick started putting pressure on the wound. For future reference, while stopping the bleeding might be important, it hurts like fucking hell.

Marinette is the first thing he sees when he opens his eyes. She’s hunched over herself in the plastic chair next to his bed. Someone, probably Dick or Alfred, draped a blanket over her. She looks vastly out of place, like the room itself is sucking the life out of her. The lighting makes her skin almost translucent.

The second thing he sees is the sunflowers covering every inch of the hospital room. There must have been a couple dozen, at least. It was probably closer to a hundred if not more. Despite the pain that comes with laughing, Jason can’t help himself.

His laughter alerts the nurse, who alerts his family. Apparently, they’ve all been camping out in the waiting room. Much comfier couches there. His family wakes Marinette, who turns her piercingly otherworldly eyes on him.

Marinette stays quiet through all his family’s fussing. She stays quiet even after that. All she does is stare. Jason doesn’t think she’s actually seeing him.

“I didn’t think I missed this many days,” Jason jokes, gesturing to the multitude of flowers wrapped around every available surface.

“No, you didn’t.” Marinette’s answer is curt. She’s distracted, Jason really wishes he knew what she was seeing.

“Not a fan of Hospitals?” Jason tries.

Marinette blinks. The cloudy look on her face disappearing as she shakes her head. “No, I really can’t stand them.”

“Me either.” Jason feels an intense desire to continue the conversation, if only to keep Marinette from closing up again. “You know, you didn’t have to visit me.”

“I wanted to,” Marinette says. “Your brother called, and told me what happened. I came by just after you were finishing up in surgery.”

“What about the shop?”

Jason has been working at Miraculous—volunteering because Marinette still doesn’t pay him—for months. He’s invested in the place now.

"It can be closed for a few days,” Marinette says, reaching over to take his hand. Jason lets her, he’s always hated hospitals. It's gotten worse since he came back. The comfort is welcome. “This is more important.”

Jason wants to say something, to take his shot, and ask her out. Because she’s just as important to him, but it feels wrong so, he settles with, “You’re a really good friend Marinette.”

He does his best to ignore the way the words choke him.

“I think,” Marinette starts, only to stop herself. There’s a moment of internal debate before she continues, “I think we both know we’re a little more than just friends.”

6) Jason never does claim Miraculous, it remains perfectly neutral, despite having the Bat-Family practically living out of the apartment upstairs.

“Hey, do you think now that we're dating you can convince Tim to come by out of costume?”

Jason blanks. “What?”

“Tim, do you think you can get him to stop dropping by as Red Robin so much. People are starting to think Miraculous has been claimed as part of Batman’s terf.”

Jason does the most logical thing he can think of. He buries his face in his hands, and groans. “Why did you have to figure it out?”

“Was I…not supposed to?”

“No, no you weren’t. How did you?”

“Jason, there’s only one person you hate as much as Tim, and that’s Red Robin. I’ve seen how you look at both of them. No one makes your eyes scream murder as much as he does. Not even Dick.”

“Oh God,” Jason says wiping a hand across his face. “Does that mean—”

“That I know you’re the Red Hood?” Marinette asks, cutting him off. “Hmm, I’ve known that for longer. Probably since you first started coming around consistently. At first, I thought you had like, the biggest boner for the guy, but then you seemed really into me and well, you talked him up way too much to either not have a crush on him or be him so, I connected the dots.”

[goonspotting]

Guide to GoonSpotting

Disclaimer: Explaining in detail why each goon individually has earned their goonly title is far too much work for this blog’s mission. The goal of goonspotting is to encourage goon pattern recognition and investigation of goonish affairs.

I will not be going out of my way to find and catalog goons, only spot them on popular posts / posts I happen to see on my dashboard.

Goon Ranking System:

Category 1 Goon - MAGA Boomers, porn blogs ran by a conservative man in his mid-forties, powerful divorced dad energy. Level of racism varies, but they maintain this threat level because they are too oblivious to grasp forms of irony more complex than extremely projected sarcasm, let alone to competently operate this app well enough to be a threat to anyone but themselves. On the verge of extinction ever since the adult content ban.

Category 2 Goon - Anti-SJWs, devil’s advocate hentai perverts, and likely ex-gamergate freaks. This is the kid that watches Ben Shapiro Liberal Destruction montages 5 feet away from you in an intro to comp sci class. Will probably either move up to Category 3, become a galaxy brain centrist, or delete their blog when they’re caught browsing it instead of doing anything resembling work at their brand new IT job. Still thinks Deus Vult is a funny meme for some reason.

Category 3 Goon - Went off the deep end when they clicked one YouTube recommended video too many and started reading /pol/ threads about the Jewish Question. Alienated from their peers in real life, has long since turned to the gentle comfort of harassing minorities online with their fellow goons. Has probably been deleted and remade multiple times, as is typically reflected in their URLs. Has not yet budded into a fully formed Category 4 Goon, and so they still hang on to the vestiges of their former personality, including but not limited to “video games” and “anime girls with guns”. Political views comprise of performatively overreacting to misleading news headlines that their more reactionary peers deem evident of degeneracy or white genocide (”CLOWN WORLD”). Unironically makes those “22 year old BLOOMER” wojak memes about himself. Has probably commissioned a custom Groyper before.

Category 4 Goon - Unhealthy dedication to ironyposting, a refusal to view the world outside the scope of conspiratorial thinking and “hell world” nihilism, and secretive in nature, these goons are some of the hardest to spot. This has earned them the more common moniker of “crypto-fascist”. Mostly disaffected white guys with no future prospects who either turned to racism and patriarchal fraternity rather than despair, or settled for tumblr when they realized that they were too racist to make it on weird twitter. The relatively few women in these circles are either tradwifes or TERFs, but the venn diagram of those two demographics is a near perfect circle. Said women are also disproportionately popular in these circles, as the aforementioned white men are vying to be the first to get in their pants. Really love finding and publicly posting personal information and / or selfies of people they gang up on and harass (you can guess which people they like to target at this point), and to protect themselves they will almost never post any remotely compromising information, or selfies for that matter. Will make countless ‘ironic’ posts about how racist or homophobic they are to take the piss out of the inevitable accusations before they actually come, and will abuse to death the excuse that they were merely joking. Posts about “The Feds” a lot, because they think they’re being persecuted by the government for being free thinkers because women won’t have sex with them when they find out they’re nazis. This community is a tightly knit one, and thus can communicate concepts or topics amongst themselves near seamlessly by simply hinting at it - in other words, a “dog whistle”. You may be familiar with some of these already, but this strain of goon has typically already moved beyond the overly obvious ones like “HH”, “1488″, and triple parenthesis. Have recently taken a liking to “eco-fascism”, and will make copious use of progressive/leftist language and rhetoric, often so convincingly that it will be spread in ostensibly leftist spaces on tumblr.

Category 5 Goon - Nuclear levels of goonhood, (usually) very openly fascist and proud of that fact. Often welcomed in Category 4 and 3 goon circles despite being really bad optics for their more concealed methods of goonery. The easiest goon to spot, as you need only to mouse over URL and look at their header, description, or even just notice the copious amounts of slurs in their URL to recognize them. Despite being the internet equivalent of a poisonous tree frog with bright orange coloration, people still tend to ignore this (intentionally or not) and reblog their memes anyways. Tend to lure people in with WW2 history photographs or memes they lifted from r/me_irl and hook them with blatantly fascist rhetoric later on. The highest threat level of goon, because they are the pillars holding the goon community together. Following a reblog chain from a lower level goon will almost always lead to a level 5 goon at the end of it. They are the ground zero, the ones who actually go through the effort of disseminating their propaganda. Less sensitive to being “outed” than Category 3 or 4 goons, and will often proudly announce their bigotry rather than coyly deny it.

Special Categorizations -

TERFs - Don’t really fit in anywhere here, due to their tendency to post about social justice and wear a “woke” persona to mask their intense hatred and bigotry. They would fit right in with Category 4, but too many TERFs lack the self-awareness necessary for that category for it to be an accurate categorization. This is not a TERF spotting blog - that’s a project for other blogs, and I’m pretty sure it has been tried before. However, if a TERF does fit into these particular categories of goon, as they tend to occasionally, they will of course be noted.

People Who Reblog From Goons - If someone is reblogging exclusively from other goons, They’re almost definitely a goon. If some reblogs from, say, 1 or 2 Category 4 Goons, they may just not know any better - these goons are elusive by nature. If you see someone associating themselves around goons, just let them know, but be ready to explain yourself. Their reaction to being informed of their goonly associations is also a key way to separate the goons from those simply unacquainted.

FAQ:

“I don’t think this is a goon, can you delete your post?”

Submit an appeal, but if my verdict is upheld then I will be posting additional evidence to prove the validity of my goon verdict.

“Why do you care? / Why are you doing this?”

Despite the fact that these peoples’ worldviews should be more than enough reason to want to avoid them, they can and will do harm if gone unchecked. The harm they do ranges from targeted harassment, especially of the sexual manner if the victim is a woman, to the malicious exposure of private information.

Alternatively:

Goon Identification Resource Posts:

https://identifythefash.tumblr.com/post/185246105123/alt-right-dogwhistles-urls

https://pissvortex.tumblr.com/post/185344967484/im-sorry-what-fo-you-mean-by-trad-tumblr

https://sonypraystation.tumblr.com/post/183477077522/salt-right-salt-right-theres-been-a-spike-of

(3rd link is outdated as they are constantly changing their urls but it should help you to understand the naming pattern)

[nights-lament]

RWBY Volume 8, Chapter 3

Better late, right? My various thoughts and opinions on Chapter 3 of RWBY Volume 8, “Strings” SPOILERS BELOW:

From Blake’s disheveledness to Weiss berating Nora, everyone’s reaction to the tubes was priceless.

Penny being Penny. You love to see it.

The heroes going around with May’s semblance brings me back to my childhood reading about Harry, Ron, and Hermione sneaking around in the invisibility cloak. Ah, to enjoy such moments without associating them to an absolute terf. Simpler times.

Oh my god, Nora, ALL the buttons? It makes me happy that even in what is being promised to be one of the darkest volumes yet, I still have the opportunity to say, Nora, never change.

Penny has an R2-D2 finger. That is awesome. Ruby geeking out over it was also a lovely touch.

The art style in Penny’s explanation feels like a blend of classic RTAA and AG Nonsuch.

Oh my gawd, we’re calling all the way back to Volume 1! We’re finally getting the Ladybug interactions we’ve been starving for and they are amazing.

Even with all those guns on him, the fact that Ironwood thinks he can coerce Watts into working for him without Watts pulling some kind of skullduggery goes to show that Ironwood has not only lost his humanity, but his common sense as well. When people say he’s lost his minds, they meant ALL of his mind.

I almost want to feel sorry for Bill, but the incredibly strong reaction from his coworker’s says to me that they’ve been dealing with his bullshit for a whiiiillllle. I mean, salmon in the microwave? For god’s sake, Bill.

God, everyone’s reactions to Ruby’s semblance are amazing. Penny and Nora in awe, Weiss is looking proud, Ruby’s striking a Sailor Moon pose, and Blake is enjoying NONE OF IT!

I love how simplistic Penny’s facial animations get when Pietro takes control. What I DON’T love is that we have now properly established that somebody can take remote control of Penny’s body. Can’t think of any way THAT can come back later.

I promise you, Nora, you are far more then just “be strong and hit stuff”. You’re the wild card, the mischief maker, the one who goes out of her way to be a spot of sunshine in a dark, uncaring world, and all even without Ren. You are so much more then one half of “Renora”, and I wish for nothing more then to reach through this computer screen and make sure you know it.

As much sense as it makes for Penny to be on Amity when it launches, the thought of her being alone with Pietro and Maria with her hacking flags hanging around her give me no shortage of anxiety.

Ok, we can debate all day as to the morality of the Ace-Ops remaining loyal to Ironwood and staying on his side even after all he’s done, but the way they’re using Winter’s injuries to gaslight Penny is nothing short of inexcusable.

I must admit, the Ace-Ops are much better coordinated this time around. Guess it helps that they’re all focused on a single target, rather than dividing their attention between a whole team.

We finally get to see Vine’s weapon in action and it’s...just a large shuriken. Unless it’s got some other hidden secrets, I will admit to being disappointed.

Turns out this electrified barrier unlocked Nora’s ability to use 100% of One for All! Too bad it went about as well for her as it would for Deku.

Not gonna lie, I hope those lichtenberg scars are permanent. It would make for one hell of a badass update of Nora’s character design.

I find it interesting that it was Marrow that was quick to agree to Ironwood’s orders where it looked like Harriet was about to question them. Perhaps he’s happy to have a (relatively) non-violent end to the fight? Or are we perhaps wrong in our predictions of which of the Ace-Ops are having second thoughts.

Damn, Harriet was able to rip that wire clean out? How strong are those robo-arms of hers?

Penny’s getting so many hugs this Volume T_T

Wow, not even trying to be subtle about what Watts and Ironwood have planned for Penny, are they? Before this Volume’s done, Penny’s going to be hacked