#the exact opposite of a dog whistle

[sephirocks]

If anyone's interested in knowing what T can do for your voice lmfao

Note that when I started T my range was like

F6-Ab2 so I wasn't exactly a vocal slouch or anything, and I have recordings of me hitting both of those apexes as a youngster. I was what you'd call a freakish dramatic soprano.

But then I did T for like a year and a half in 2018-2019 and it dropped my range from the above to like F2-F4 which was DEVASTATING. That halved my range.

But now, five years later? After stopping T in June of 2019 due to heart issues and severe voice grieving and dysphoria? My range is FIVE FUCKING OCTAVES and I can sing to the bottom of the piano yo!!!

I'm not saying everyone can do this that goes on T.

T is a process and it will likely change your range DRASTICALLY. But new things can come out of it. If I had never gone on T I wouldn't have gotten to tour in Europe as a lead bass in a choir or do some of the non profit musical work I've done.

I thought T ruined my voice for a long time. And I still miss being able to sing phantom of the Opera high notes some days. But I think what I can do now is sorta hella cool.

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

why did you tag your post with gaz erasure my ass? like what was hard to believe that the cod fandom has blatant patterns of purposefully removing the only black character and replacing him with everyone under the sun? your friend lied about killing themself to make them look like a victim. and you participated in harassing people who saw this for what it was. you need to step back and reflect on your own self on why you thought that your friend’s “death” was caused by people calling out patterns of anti black racism and then go on to harass them. you are not an ally by any means.

Back when I used that tag, I paired it with another tag right after, it was meant to be an aggressive call out on misinformation, I had meant for it to read as 'Gaz erasure my ass, y'all just can't read'.

(This because the original post didn't read like intentional erasure but rather like codslut thought Gaz didn't fit the post, since she also didn't use Reboot Soap, she used *Captain* Soap, idk how best to explain it but to me the two soaps are different characters so i figured it was an intentional choice to use him and keegan rather than reboot soap and gaz)

Edit: I want to add that I also used codslut's own explanation as the basis for why I didn't think it was erasure. And at this point, she's clearly not to be fucking trusted, so it wouldn't surprise me if it really *was* erasure/racism and I believed her word that it wasn't.

As time went on, I dropped the last part of the tag of 'y'all just can't read', and looking back it not only reads as a racist dog whistle but also, just in general, sounds and looks fucking disgusting.

I've said this before, but I think it warrants saying again: I *didn't* mean to say Gaz erasure doesn't exist. It does very much exist in the community and even Activision themselves often erase Gaz from promo materials.

I'd hate for people to think that I either dislike Gaz or don't see the blatant racism/dislike/erasure that happens with him on the community. That's not the case. Gaz is a main character (unlike König like so many people try to replace him with) who I absolutely adore, and I call out erasure when I see it here on Tumblr, on Tiktok and on Twitter.

I never meant to make it seem like Gaz erasure doesn't exist. I only wanted to call out misinformation... and ended up doing the exact opposite of both my intentions. I'm sorry about that. It was not just disgusting but full on stupid of me.

I also want to say that I didn't think that that screenshot post specifically or even the act of people calling out racism where they saw it was the cause for codslut possibly killing herself. That is not what I meant at all. And I don't want anyone to think I blame @soapskneebrace or @glossysoap or anyone else for that. Blood was never on their hands, I want to make that very clear!!!!

When I was confronting people, I was doing so on the basis that they're big creators with big platforms and that by accusing codslut of racism/erasure they opened the door for anons to justify their actions when going after codslut because they have so much reach and people with bad intentions need less than that to justify the hate they send people.

Looking back, I know I was in the wrong for how I spoke. I was aggressive and rude and mean, and none of the people involved deserve that. Hell, my actions were hypocritical as hell and I probably opened the door for them to get hate themselves. I'm really fucking sorry.

If I could take it back, I would. I never believed nor wanted them to believe that someone potentially harming themselves was their fault. It wasn't.

I do plan on taking a step back to reconsider not just the way I acted but everything that's happened. In fact, I was already taking said break and came online only because I got word of @/fulltacs' post.

I appreciate and thank you for holding me accountable (and by that I mean you and everyone!). And I especially thank *you* anon for wording this ask this way, and giving me, at least, a chance to explain.

[theconstitutionisgayculture]

it's so annoying to see people post things like "I don't care if you're just a fandom account you can't ignore what's happening, spread awareness, speak out". well I can and I will. idgaf. especially bc what they mean by "spread awareness" is always "uncritically repost what My Side says". if I spoke about synagogues being targeted and Jewish homes being marked with a star of David, and told Jews to arm themselves and protect each other, would they still encourage me to "use my platform"?

Right?

They love to use neutral language because it lets them pretend that their views are the mainstream, common sense positions. Which is usually the exact opposite of the truth. Using this kind of language also signals to people who are sensitive to their dog whistles that failure to comply will met with accusations of extremism. Don't want to reblog something about the fake trans genocide to your Spy x Family fan blog? Then you're a violent transphobe who wants all trans people to die, and we're going to tell everyone you know so you lose all your friends and get thrown out of all your online spaces. Which, imo, is the main point of these posts. Most probably don't really care about spreading "awareness". They're just looking for people they can bludgeon with their temporary mob powers.

[jenniferdiazisatransgirl]

So for those of you living in the UK you might be aware the Conservative Party Conference had a remarkable amount of transphobia at it this year.

For those outside of the UK, the Conservative Party has been the majority party of the UK since 2010 and as such the leader of said party is our Prime Minister. Since Boris Johnson became Prime Minister in 2019 the party has become increasingly transphobic, which is a complete u-turn from the policies of Theresa May who had committed to moving the gender recognition process towards self-ID in the UK. Something the UK Government this year blocked from happening in Scotland and that the Labour Party (the opposition party), has also now dropped its commitment towards.

Since 2018, the media in the UK has been increasingly transphobic more or less exclusively reporting negative stories about trans people that rile up hatred. For example, reporting on trans rapists and murders and being sure to make it very clear the person is trans in the headlines. This along with a lot of opinion pieces aimed to vilify the trans community and especially paint trans women as predatory. The BBC a few years back actually published an article about how trans women were pressuring lesbians into having sex with them. One of their sources in this article was a cis woman who had been accused of sexually abusing women.

This vilification since spread to both our mainstream political parties. The Conservatives are just full on transphobic at this point blockading self-ID in Scotland, politically capturing the Equality and Human Rights Commission to the point it has now suggested changing the definition of “sex” in the Equality Act to mean biological sex (this would effectively act as a very extensive bathroom bill if ever implemented), removing trans people from their proposed conversion therapy ban and then u-turning on that decision but continuing to delay the ban, influencing the NHS in a way that in the future it may become even harder for trans youths to get the care they need and I could go on. It is a long list.

Meanwhile Labour is either on the fence, afraid to take a clear side or are in outright agreement with the Tories while claiming, “We do support trans rights. We really do. But parents have a right to know if their kid is trans, so we support the Tories in teachers having to out students.”

The latter isn’t an exact quote from Starmer (leader of the Labour Party), but he did say parents have the right to know in a proposed policy the Tories have for now abandoned where they wanted teachers to out trans students to their parents.

And while the minority parties have some good policies on paper, many still have transphobia problems they don’t seem to be adequately addressing. Including in the Green Party a trans person who was running to be a local councillor but was the victim of malicious reports that saw her removed from the ballot.

So yeah, so far not great.

But this week the Conservative Party Conference happened and let me give you some highlights:

- Our Prime Minister, Rishi Sunak saying to an applauding crowd that people shouldn’t be bullied into believing people can change sex. A clear transphobic dog whistle and saying, “men are men, women are women. That shouldn’t be controversial. It’s just common sense.”

- Our Home Secretary, Suella Braverman taking a jab at immigrants and asylum seekers as is typical of the Tories and claiming multiculturalism has failed this country. You’d like to think a Government led under our first Prime Minister that is part of a minority ethnic group would like to do positive things for those of minority ethnic groups. But no, let’s stoke up that hatred and declare that, “Britain is for the British.” I should note, that last part isn’t what has been said but is basically what can be inferred.

- Suella Braverman once again talking about “wokery” and “gender ideology” ruining our country. But what is interesting about this, is bare in mind the Conservatives have been really passionate about being the party of free speech, when it comes to bigotry of course. Yet when a gay Conservative member expressed his disapproval at what she said, he was removed from the conference by police and security. I’ll be fair to Braverman in that she said he should be let back in. But that doesn’t change the fact he was removed by security and police. And like dude was literally in his seat and said it in a talking tone and instantly, security and police were on him.

- And our Health Secretary who’s name I can’t be bothered to remember or look up announcing he plans to change the NHS Constitution to ban trans women from women-only wards in response to exactly, zero complaints an NHS report has since found.

There’s a lot to unpack there but I want to address the last point in particular.

So I have been hospitalised 3 times since transitioning;

- Twice in NHS hospitals.

- Once in a private hospital that was being contracted by the NHS.

The private hospital was for my gender reassignment surgery. It being a private hospital and the sensitivity of the procedure, I was placed in a private room. So is moot to my point.

Two other times were an asthma attack in 2015 and me breaking my back and leg in 2021. Both times I was placed on a women-only ward.

So firstly, I just want to say. I don’t fair too well in hospitals. My mental health spirals quickly. When I broke my back and leg, I actually got discharged way earlier than I was physically ready to be discharged under the advice of the Mental Health Crisis Team. Not a bad call on their part. I needed to be discharged and if they hadn’t have done it, i was going to discharge myself against medical advice. I didn’t want to be there any longer than necessary.

But that is anecdotal.

I’ll go into facts now. So the claim is that this is so women get privacy, dignity and safety amongst other things.

So whenever I have been on a women-only ward, people get visitors. There’s no sex requirement on who is allowed on the ward to visit, from my experience. So men are already on the ward in the form of visitors, even if all the patients are women.

It is true, you have the right to ask you be seen by a doctor or nurse of the same-sex. However, other patients and the ward may not have requested this so there will still be male nurses, doctors, porters, etc doing their jobs.

And when it comes to privacy and dignity, all beds have a privacy curtain.

Additionally, in the aspect of safety there are staff on the ward 24/7.

But I just highlighted here, a women-only ward is only women-only when it comes to patients. Not other people who maybe on the ward for whatever reason.

Now tell me, who is more a threat there. The trans woman laid up in bed because she in hospital for what is likely a very good reason or is it maybe staff or visitors who will be in a far more able state. That is the safety aspect granted.

Then with the privacy and dignity aspect, you’d have to go much further than just removing trans women of the wards if you are classifying us as “men”.

It’s BS.

[mothsantics]

i log on to twitter. i see someone point out that a terf dog whistle is a transmisogynystic phrase and they get ratio'd by people who seem to be in a reading incomprehension contest with each other. i check the bio of any person thats dunking on the tweet, and they are either a literal terf, or a teenager who thinks theyre correct in siding with the terfs

people claim op is themselves transmisogynystic and calling transwomen men (they are doing the exact opposite of that)

i laugh at the dumb discourse and go to unfollow whoever put the tone deaf quote retweet criticizing op for pointing out a terf dog whistle on my timeline

the person who put it on my timeline is one of my mutuals

[tewwor-aaa]

✧･ﾟ open | mutuals & non-mutuals ･ﾟ✧

Ideally, Oryn could go about the day without making his presence known. All of the miracles his charge experienced from time to time should be seen as just that – a simple miracle. Not as the doings of some otherworldly force. So the key, he had quickly concluded, was to not be seen. To be heard or felt was something he could work with, but to be seen was basically game fucking over for him.

That was always easier said than done, though.

No one could have predicted the sudden shift of weather or the explainable onslaught of bone deep dread. One moment things were fine, normal, and the next it was the exact opposite. Dark clouds quickly swept the skies; big, ugly things that crackled and rumbled with malice. Then came the hungry bay of hounds. Except there were no dogs within a ten mile radius.

Urgency seeped into every pore, every nerve, as he thought in haste. There, off in the distance, laid a half dilapidated shack. It looked sturdy enough to withstand a storm, but whether or not it can last the efforts of unseen hounds remained a mystery.

Still, it’s a chance he had to take.

Fingers crammed past his lips, Oryn gave a shrill whistle. The sound of it sliced through the muggy air just for a split second; loud enough to have everyone, and everything, turn their attention towards the ramshackle shelter.

[ofps]

Right Wing Online Feminism: TERF(Trans Exclusionary Radical Feminism)

Using some of the listed terms in 'HOW TO SPOT TERF IDEOLOGY' by The CUSU Women’s Campaign I will try to find real-life online examples of their listed TERF dog whistles.

These are only a few of the most common terms associated with Trans ideology that I gained from a singular source but I believe I found a sufficient amount of evidence to validate the claims made by said source.

Observed Nomancluture of Online TERF:

“Gender critical”, discussed above; terfs also often dub themselves “biological women” or “adult human females”, and frequently highlight biological and anatomical signifiers such as “XX” (denoting chromosomes) and parts of reproductive anatomy.

@r/GenderCritical is a Reddit community turned Twitter blog after being banned due to their transphobic controversy. They are backed by @/WomenAreOvarit which is blatantly anti-trans(Example: Their Header image is from a protest against Transwomen in Female designated areas(I could not reverse-image search to find its exact origin)

“RadFem”; terf ideology calls itself “radical feminism” after its origins in parts of the feminist ‘second wave’ and its opposition to what it sees as “liberal feminist” positions of trans inclusion, although in reality there’s nothing “radical” about biological essentialism.

On Twitter, the main accounts that had the term 'radfem' in their account name had several posts relating to anti-trans ideology and/or reposts of other accounts that spoke about TERF ideology topics(e.g 'the trans-women in female bathroom ' debate)

On Tumblr, I had to focus on posts tagged with the term 'radfem', and immediately I was shown either content related to 'transwoman' or about the TERF ideology.

[cyarskj1899]

Monique Joseph Speaks Out After Her 9-Year-Old Daughter Is Racially Profiled For Catching Lantern Flies

Jaron BryantDecember 20, 2022

Monique Joseph, the mother of 9-year-old Bobby Wilson, recently spoke out after her neighbor called the police on her daughter for catching lanternflies.

The incident happened back in October. 

Bobby Wilson decided she wanted to help save the trees in her community after learning about invasive lantern flies.

While she was outside of her house in Caldwell, New Jersey, her neighbor called the police on her.

Monique Joseph described what happened that day on “Good Morning America.”

So that was um early on a Saturday morning around 11:00 o’clock A.M. Bobby went out with her homemade solution to kill the spotted lantern flies that were infested onto the trees on our street.

A couple of minutes later, I decided to go out and join her, and that’s when I noticed I saw the officer’s car slowly passing my home and stopping at my neighbor’s home.

A couple of seconds later, I heard my neighbor yell to the officer, ‘Go get her!’

And that’s what caught my attention, initially, right?… So as I saw the officer approaching Bobby, I’m computing and I’m realizing that he’s stopping to talk to Bobby so she’s engaging with him and I said, ‘Officer please don’t, you know, that’s my daughter, she’s nine, she’s a minor.’

By the time I got there, he’d asked Bobby a series of questions.

He immediately let me know that she was okay, I was okay, but that he was recording.

He had a body cam on, and in that moment I asked, you know, ‘Why are you recording?’

And he said he had a report that someone was…

Monique Joseph said she realized the incident could have gone left afterward.

So honestly when I knew it could have gone left was afterwards…

So, initially, all I knew was that my neighbor had called.

I approached him. I asked him why would he call the police. 

He gave me his version of why he called.

Um, it was contradictory to what the 911 transmission, and that was the moment that I realized when he racially profiled my daughter, when he used dog whistle terminology that was dangerous.

That’s when I understood exactly what happened…

When I got the 911 transmission for me it was clear.

He used ‘black women’. He said he was ‘scared.’ 

His language, he said he didn’t know what the **** she was doing, right?…

And even afterwards when the officer went back, because I was able to hear it, the officer explained to him that it was your neighbor and she was spraying the solution and even his response then, there was nothing about it that sound, like, neighborly, right?…

And the fact that I was there, he was there the entire time he never tried to approach me to say, ‘Oh my God, I made a mistake,’ you know, a natural reaction would be if you didn’t know who you were calling on and then the mom comes out, you know us, he didn’t try to intervene.

So for me um, I just knew that I had to speak out because the 911 transmission was the exact opposite of what he communicated to me.

Monique Joseph decided to speak out about the incident at a city council meeting, and she said the reaction from her community has been amazing.

Her daughter Bobby is an aspiring scientist, and she has been honored by the USDA, and she has been invited to Yale and Princeton Universities, from her mother speaking out and bringing awareness to the incident.

Watch the ‘GMA’ story below: 

Let me know your thoughts in the comments below, or join the convo on our socials. (Facebook, Instagram).

Sent from my iPhone

[rebelfell]

cold dry stone

gator tillman x fem!reader

Revenge is a dish best served immediately and relentlessly.

cw: hate-fucking/revenge sex, references to infidelity. pretty much just blatant bullying of Gator ‘cos it’s actually sooo fun to be mean to him?? hand job, bareback piv sex, finishing inside (consensually, despite the dialogue)

18+, MDNI 3.5k

What’s the opposite of a breeding kink?

Gator’s party was too fucking loud.

You weren’t even inside yet and you already regretted coming here. A veritable horde of trucks and cars and more than a few cruisers littered the gravel drive and lawn, parked haphazardly over the dying grass with no rhyme or reason.

The walls of the house practically shook from the bass of the music playing inside and the drunken revelry could be heard clear across the fields.

The elder Tillman was away for the week—off taking care of some vague and surely nefarious business—and now his pissant son was throwing a kegger while daddy was away, carrying on with his dumbass friends like a fucking adolescent despite his ripe age of nearly 30.

You wouldn’t have shown up in a million years if not under such extenuating circumstances.

The back of your neck still burned at the memory of catching your so-called fiancée naked in bed with someone who was very much not you.

The ensuing fight left you in a kind of fugue state— speeding recklessly along deserted highways, knuckles throbbing as you gripped the steering wheel with one thing on your mind: revenge.

There was no shortage of people Drew hated in this shitty little town you had both grown up in. And any one of them would have sufficed for your purposes. But you didn’t just want to get back at him. You had to destroy him. You had to humiliate him the same way he had humiliated you.

And no one said “humiliation” quite like Gator.

You spotted him as soon as you walked in the door—all 5’11 of his stupid frame leaning against the stone mantle; sunglasses sitting on the back of his head; arms bulging in that same black polo he loved to wear under his Sherrif’s vest; the tips of his fingers brushing those two slits shaved into his hairline he thought made him look so tough; sucking down a hit from that lime green excuse for a phallic symbol he never put down.

He was talking to some girl. A pretty little thing in a pretty little dress looking up at him all demure and coy with fluttering lashes and puckered lips. She was the exact type he always went for—all pliant and willing, taken in by the veneer of status and power afforded to him both by his badge and being the son of the most powerful man in town.

Tough break, hon. Maybe some other time.

Thumb and middle finger pinched together, you pushed them between your lips and blew.

Your shrill whistle rang out over the din, silencing the party save Gator’s godawful choice of music. Every pair of eyes in the room was on you now, including the round hazel ones you were after.

Good. The more people Drew heard this story from, the better.

“Let’s go, Tillman,” you barked.

With two fingers motioning in a succinct come here, you beckoned him forward and jerked your head in the direction of the staircase, heading up them before he’d even started to follow.

You made your way down the narrow hall, cracking open doors as you went in search of Gator’s room, shocked you couldn’t smell your way to whatever dirty hamster cage he slept in. Behind you, the clomp of his boots alerted you to his presence as he reached the top of the stairs.

“You can’t just whistle at me like a dog. I’m a fuckin’ deputy—”

The family pictures in their gaudy frames rattled as you pushed him against the wall, your forearm planted in the center of his broad chest. Your face assaulted his, neck stretching to kiss him, tongue pushing past his teeth into his mouth—the sting of bourbon tempered by the sickly-sweet taste of his Mountain Dew mixer and…something with a synthetic smokey flavor.

Was he just eating jerky? Seriously?

His hand came up to try and grip the back of your neck, but you slapped it away with your free arm as your other drove a bit harder into his pecks.

He whined into your mouth, a choked-up simpering sound that made your heartbeat pulse between your legs. You pulled back to look at him, eyes flickering over his face, his lips spit-slick and swollen, his chin bobbing like a chicken’s head as he tried to chase your mouth, eyes round and pleading. Desperate and messy. Perfect.

He flinched as you ruffled his over-gelled hair, snatching his sunglasses off the back of his head and tossing them away, letting them clatter on the wooden floor as they fell.

“It’s the middle of the night, you idiot,” you sniped. “Now where’s your room?”

Jaw clenched, mouth forming into a hard, thin line as he bit back what he wished he could say, he made a loud sucking sound with his tongue behind his teeth. He pushed open the door to his room and you yanked him inside, closing it back by shoving him up against it on the other side.

It was a sty, no surprise there.

Dirty clothes scattered across the floor, mixing with (clean?) ones spilling out of hampers. Empty pop and beer cans dotted every available surface, alongside bottles of e-juice that sat in sticky rings made by their own drippings.

Half-dressed girls cut out of skin mags were pasted up on the walls along with some wrinkled posters of movies and bands you liked a little less just because he enjoyed them. He really was just a teenager frozen in time, wasn’t he?

You tsked at him as you looked around, your voice ripe with judgment. “Think you oughta move out of daddy’s house one of these days?”

Gator’s eyes hardened. “He likes having me close by when we’ve got business to attend to.”

He’s clearly irked, getting that look in his eyes like when you would mock and goad and tease during recess in grade school, and challenge him to races he never, ever won.

Most everyone knew there was no love lost between you and Gator. You had always been a little extra mean to him growing up, probably as a retaliation for all the knowing glances and nudges and so-called “jokes” people liked to make about you two getting married someday.

If he hadn’t turned into such an insufferable ass along the way, maybe you would have.

The old Gator, the soft and gentle boy who was so desperate for kindness and love and approval and encouragement he’d never gotten enough of, was nothing more than an ever-fading memory now—snuffed out by Roy’s influence and all his hyper-masculine, abusive, racist, cultish bullshit.

You might even miss him if you thought there was a chance that side of him still existed. But every day that possibility seemed less and less likely.

He jammed a hand into his cargo pants pocket to retrieve his vape, probably trying to recover some vestige of his dignity; or to pretend like he hadn’t been totally at your mercy since your whistle.

Mid-pull, you snatched the lime green machine out of his hand and stuffed it down the front of your dress so it rested between your cleavage.

He started to whinge in protest, only for you to cut him off with a harsh kiss, punctuated with a punishing bite to his bottom lip.

“You’ll get it back if you make me come,” you burred, fingers now making fast work of his belt.

Once it had been pulled through the loops and tossed to the side, your fingers curled around the waistband of his pants and you hauled him over to the bed. The ancient metal frame creaked in protest as he landed on it with a bounce, his legs spreading wide and eyes flashing with need.

He would never admit to this, but he loved how strong you were—the way your arms rippled when you threw him around, the latent strength built up by a lifetime of farm chores. If he had it in him to struggle or fight back a little, it might not be so easy for you. But he never did.

“Get undressed,” you said as you stepped out of your shoes, gaze as bored as your tone.

Muttering something unintelligible under his breath, he clumsily started stripping off his polo, toeing off his boots, and tugging down his pants and the briefs he wore underneath.

They pooled around his ankles and he leaned back on his elbows to kick them away, smugness now polluting his face. He smirked up at you, eyes flitting between yours and his substantial length that flopped across his thigh, as though waiting for your awed reaction.

He was an impressive specimen, as much as it pained you to admit. But you sure as shit weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of confirming it.

You tilted your head, studying it quietly.

“I remembered it being bigger.” You shrugged as Gator’s face fell. “I guess it’ll do.”

His cocky smirk disappeared, now looking all sour and deflated as he went to pull his white singlet over his head. You placed a hand on his chest, pushing him back to lay flat.

“Leave it,” you told him, tugging the hem back down. You much preferred the way his muscles bulged out of the too-small tank more than you liked the sight of his bare chest.

He licked his lips and nodded, jaw going slack as he watched you drop to your knees, the spread of his legs widening to accommodate you as you knelt on the floor between them. A shudder ran through him as your hand wrapped tight around his length and you let your tongue loll out of your mouth, the pool of saliva you’d collected there dribbling out all over his cock.

The tip of your tongue just barely grazed his slit that was already leaking and he moaned deeply at the feeling, knowing it was as close as he’d ever get to you sucking him off.

Your hand curled around him and began to move in a slow, even stroke. It was perfunctory. Totally emotionless. Gator couldn’t stay hard unless he got jerked off a little first—probably some kind of performance anxiety holdover from puberty.

Truth be told, you didn’t mind it so much.

You sort of liked watching him fall apart from nothing but your fist and spit. Making his brow scrunch and his mouth slacken, seeing him throw his head back and the muscles in his thick neck strain as he huffed and gasped out his labored breaths, cheeks puffing as he panted.

“Wh-where’s your ring?” he asked, his voice already weak and pitiful as he propped himself up on his elbows to get a better view of the work your hand was doing.

“Bottom of the lake,” you said shortly, giving him a steady glare over your pumping fist.

“That why you’re here, then?” he grunted. “Cos you two had a fight?”

“Not a fight,” you corrected, hacking another glob of spit on his cock. “We’re done. Found him in bed with some floozy from the Family Fare.”

Gator scoffed. “S’that it?”

“Yes, that’s it,” you snapped back. “That not a good enough reason for you?”

“Just seems kinda harsh s’all. It’s not like you and I haven’t been—ah-ah-ahhh!”

Your stroking ceased abruptly, a mean glint in your eye as you closed both fists around him and started to twist—not unlike the burns you used to give his arm on the playground.

“That’s different,” you seethed through gritted teeth. “We didn’t get caught.”

Gator whimpered at the harshness of your touch, his abdomen flexing under thin white cotton as he squirmed. “Sorry, sorry, sorry,” he stammered. “You’re right, you’re right.”

“Damn fucking right I’m right,” you grumbled, releasing your hold on him.

With a couple of strained gasps, Gator struggled to regain his breath as you got to your feet and began to drag your panties down your legs.

He was hard as a rock now—no surprise there.

He pushed himself up to lay on the bed, his toes already curling over as you climbed on top of him. You straddled him at the waist, knees bracketing his hips as you lifted your dress.

His eyes strained in the dark for just a glimpse of you, watching hungrily as you bunched your skirt in one hand and made a few cursory swipes across your clit with your other.

“Suck,” you instructed as you brought your fingers to his lips, request redundant as he was already eagerly taking all three into his mouth.

He mewled around them, licking sloppily at the wetness there, the tang of your arousal covering his tongue. Bullying him always got you riled up in a way you never fully understood.

Fingers now thoroughly coated in a mix of your slick and his spit, you reached down to align him with your entrance. His cock twitched excitedly in your hand as you rubbed his head through your folds, and he made a sniveling sort of noise as you began to lower down onto him.

His hands came up and he reached for your chest only to be slapped away as you sank further, your body stretching to take him in until he was seated fully in your heat. The slow and deliberate grind of your hips had him squirming under you already, whimpering at the sensation as your walls squeezed around his shaft.

Letting your head tip back and your eyes flutter until they closed, you lost yourself in the rhythm you set rocking back and forth on his cock.

Tentatively he reached out again, this time aiming for your hips, and you surprised the both of you when you let his hands settle there to hold you.

He was nearly silent, emitting only a few soft grunts and quiet huffs of pleasure as you rode him at this punishingly slow pace. He could be such a fucking jackrabbit sometimes, it was like pulling teeth getting him to bend to your will and go at your preferred speed.

But he was behaving surprisingly well this time.

For a moment, it didn’t even feel like you were fucking someone you hated. It was as if Gator wasn’t the one under you at all. At least not the Gator you’d despised for most of your life, but a good Gator. A Gator who listened to you and cared about you and did whatever he could to—

“That’s right, you love that dick, don’t ya?”

The sound of his voice effectively shattered the illusion you’d built in your mind, and you felt your eyes narrow as they snapped open, reality rushing back in. Below you, Gator was totally unphased, lips still quirked and his brow raised as if expecting praise. Idiot.

“Feel’s good, eh?” he asked.

“It did,” you hissed at him. “Until you opened that stupid mouth.”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged with a knowing smile as his fingers tightened briefly on your hips. “I think you like my stupid mouth sometimes.”

Well…he’s got you there.

And the thought, unfortunately, has a wave of arousal crashing through your body that Gator can now feel gushing around his cock.

You slid forward roughly in retaliation, rolling your whole body against his as you started to fuck him harder. The motion and shift change made Gator suddenly buck up from underneath you, sending a jolt through your core. You glanced down at his face, all scrunched up like he was in pain, biting down on his bottom lip to hold himself together, even though you knew it was taking everything he had not to blow now.

“Don’t you dare come in me, Gator,” you warned, the grind of your hips still speeding up. “You keep your dirty fucking seed to yourself, you hear me?”

His long fingers squeezed harder at your waist, digging into your flesh like he was trying to bruise you through the thin material of your dress.

He started pushing you down to meet his thrusts as he in turn fucked up into you. Sweat beaded on the ridge of his strong brow, his rosy lips parting in a gasping moan. He threw his head back, the muscles in his neck flexing under freckled skin.

If he wasn’t such a tool, he might be handsome.

The lewd sound of slapping flesh filled the room as you worked up to a bounce to meet his thrusts. You leaned forward to brace yourself on his chest, a low moan escaping as you gripped the material of his white tank in your fists. He smirked at you, that insufferable smugness returning when he heard the sound you tried to hide and failed.

“Don’t you fucking smirk at me,” you sneered. “You think I want your melon-headed spawn? Think this town actually needs more of your godforsaken DNA in it?”

With a mean sneer of his own to match yours, he planted his feet on the bed and gave himself the leverage he needed to slam upwards inside you. The unforgiving punch and drag of his cock along your walls made you keen and grasp more desperately at his shirt, threatening to rip it apart.

“Whas the matter, hon?” he asked, his smile all teeth. “S’not me making you feel so good, is it? Can’t be—cos I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing? Right?”

He punctuates each word with an especially deep thrust and you hate how close he’s got you now.

You push back against him, returning each thrust with a squeeze of your walls. Everything else falls away as he strokes that spot inside you hate him for reaching. Especially now, as you’re going to come and you know he can tell.

With a guttural groan and making the ugliest face he’s pulled yet, Gator’s spend spilled out of him. The warmth of it flooded your whole body—never more grateful for the IUD you made that special trip out of state to get placed. Your body was still radiating from your own orgasm, all that tension and rigidness in you loosening at last like spaghetti finally starting to cook.

“Fuck, Gate…”

A languid sigh tumbled past your lips and your body slumped forward, limp and exhausted. You were closer to him now, hands still on his chest to keep yourself up, not quite laying against him, but close enough so he could slide his large hands up and down your back in a soothing rub.

“Oh, c’mon now, tough stuff,” he teased from beneath you. “Don’ tell me yer goin’ soft on me?”

“Only one goin’ soft is you,” you snapped, arms trembling as you pushed yourself up so his dick could slip out and flop over, slick and spent.

His hand came up and caught your face as you started to move off him, stilling you as he cradled your jaw in his wide grasp and a calloused thumb brushed across your soft cheek. And even though you knew he couldn’t, it almost felt as though he could see the faint remnants of tears that spilled there—the ones you despised yourself for letting fall; the ones you’d scrubbed from your face until your skin was raw and dry; the ones that made you feel so weak.

You withdrew from him, swatting his hand away as you climbed off him and the bed, ignoring the way his head had started to lift to kiss you.

Silently, he watched you gather yourself to leave.

The straps of your dress hung loose around your shoulders and you made no attempt to straighten the crooked bust or to fix your smeared mascara.

You picked up your shoes, but you let them dangle at your side, planning to stop at the front door downstairs to put them on—smiling out at the party, letting everyone get a good, long look. A big you-sized middle finger to Drew.

“Wait a minute—” Gator said suddenly, his voice hoarse and strained.

You paused at the words and glanced back at him over your shoulder. He sat up further, the heaving in his chest having started to slow, his eyes shiny in the harsh blue light of his computer monitor.

He gulped, inhaling a shaky breath as you arched your brow at him.

“Vape?” he asked, his gaze flitting to your chest.

A reluctant smile tugged at the corner of your mouth as you sauntered back over towards the bed. You leaned forward on your fists, his lumpy mattress sinking under them as he scooted closer and you kissed him. Sweet and soft this time.

Far nicer than he deserved.

He breathed into it, sucking you down as desperately as he did those strawberry-kiwi flavored hits, his hand coming up to finally, finally palm the breast you’d refused to let him touch.

So distracted by the kiss, he didn’t notice you slipping the lime green device from the front of your dress. You pulled back from his face, grinning at him now all sly and catlike.

And flung it straight out his open window.

[cyarsk52-20]

Monique Joseph Speaks Out After Her 9-Year-Old Daughter Is Racially Profiled For Catching Lantern Flies

Jaron BryantDecember 20, 2022

Monique Joseph, the mother of 9-year-old Bobby Wilson, recently spoke out after her neighbor called the police on her daughter for catching lanternflies.

The incident happened back in October. 

Bobby Wilson decided she wanted to help save the trees in her community after learning about invasive lantern flies.

While she was outside of her house in Caldwell, New Jersey, her neighbor called the police on her.

Monique Joseph described what happened that day on “Good Morning America.”

So that was um early on a Saturday morning around 11:00 o’clock A.M. Bobby went out with her homemade solution to kill the spotted lantern flies that were infested onto the trees on our street.

A couple of minutes later, I decided to go out and join her, and that’s when I noticed I saw the officer’s car slowly passing my home and stopping at my neighbor’s home.

A couple of seconds later, I heard my neighbor yell to the officer, ‘Go get her!’

And that’s what caught my attention, initially, right?… So as I saw the officer approaching Bobby, I’m computing and I’m realizing that he’s stopping to talk to Bobby so she’s engaging with him and I said, ‘Officer please don’t, you know, that’s my daughter, she’s nine, she’s a minor.’

By the time I got there, he’d asked Bobby a series of questions.

He immediately let me know that she was okay, I was okay, but that he was recording.

He had a body cam on, and in that moment I asked, you know, ‘Why are you recording?’

And he said he had a report that someone was…

Monique Joseph said she realized the incident could have gone left afterward.

So honestly when I knew it could have gone left was afterwards…

So, initially, all I knew was that my neighbor had called.

I approached him. I asked him why would he call the police. 

He gave me his version of why he called.

Um, it was contradictory to what the 911 transmission, and that was the moment that I realized when he racially profiled my daughter, when he used dog whistle terminology that was dangerous.

That’s when I understood exactly what happened…

When I got the 911 transmission for me it was clear.

He used ‘black women’. He said he was ‘scared.’ 

His language, he said he didn’t know what the **** she was doing, right?…

And even afterwards when the officer went back, because I was able to hear it, the officer explained to him that it was your neighbor and she was spraying the solution and even his response then, there was nothing about it that sound, like, neighborly, right?…

And the fact that I was there, he was there the entire time he never tried to approach me to say, ‘Oh my God, I made a mistake,’ you know, a natural reaction would be if you didn’t know who you were calling on and then the mom comes out, you know us, he didn’t try to intervene.

So for me um, I just knew that I had to speak out because the 911 transmission was the exact opposite of what he communicated to me.

Monique Joseph decided to speak out about the incident at a city council meeting, and she said the reaction from her community has been amazing.

Her daughter Bobby is an aspiring scientist, and she has been honored by the USDA, and she has been invited to Yale and Princeton Universities, from her mother speaking out and bringing awareness to the incident.

Watch the ‘GMA’ story below: 

Let me know your thoughts in the comments below, or join the convo on our socials. (Facebook, Instagram).

Sent from my iPhone

[rametarin]

About the Budweiser thing, given the years specified for that guys CIA work wasn't that smack dab in the middle of the War On Terror where the republican party's stance was basically "string up any vaguely middle East looking person"? Like if this came out back then I'm sure the reactions would be the exact opposite.

Having lived through the era of Ruby Ridge, Waco and Rodney King, to my estimations of the socially and politically conscious white male population of the War on Terror years, I'd say no. They still distrusted the CIA in particular, but may've been less apprehensive as more of Their Guys were holding the door in the federal government and better able to whistle blow if the alphabet soup federalists decided they wanted to put gay-juice in the water or sterilize the whitest county in Texas, or put microchips in milk, or whatever nonsensical thing the most radical moonbat Dale Gribble types think is true.

It's kind of odd. It's one of those things where nobody would care about it despite knowing about it, but the moment one collection of people decides to have that discussion and fight against the inertia, it becomes "a development" or "thing" and may be supported. Especially from the sort of people that live by the belief that, "everything happens for a reason" and think every new conversation started was fated to happen by destiny, like moving forwards in a new scene in a movie, and they just have to react to it and participate.

So they may have some abstract idea CIA people work at the beer company, and may in the back of their minds question the legitimacy of the connection, but they wouldn't say anything until it becomes A Scene. Then the tinfoil hatter discourse becomes, "well we know the CIA have Budweiser now. Openly..."

Anti-federalists are more apt to trust operations of necessity that they begrudgingly accept the federal government is better at than confederated states. Such as the military. But they still do not want a robot nanny to pick them up and force questionable medicine down their throat by law, and be told by existing in the space of the nanny robot, they consent to not only the mistreatment but pay taxes to do it.

But they still acknowledge that misc. federal bureaus have forces and cultures that do not like them, hate them in fact, and have an uncharitable idea of exactly what they can get away with as legal necessity. Like setting a cult compound on fire, or opening fire on a dude who was only suspected of illegal firearm ownership, killing his son and his dog. not even on the basis of a search warrant, just straight up judge, jury, execution.

Republicans and their voters are not very trusting of federal level bureaus, especially not ones that might be on record talking about the same talking points the blue hairs use to call them illegitimate and deplatform them.

During the War on Terror, all hands were on deck. They acknowledged they had bad apples in federal bureaus and entire bad federal bureaus, and that the alphabet soup people were still a danger, but they had other priorities and necessity trumped a witch hunt, both to deal with runaway Islamic extremism in the middle east and because actually putting tons of alphabet soup groups on trial with no evidence would've exhausted too much political capital and been seen as radically partisan. So, the republicans didn't fuss about it much.

The republicans would've loved to ransack federalism during the War on Terror years, but there was no way to justify that and not alienate the next generation entirely. They knew that. Before the information age, history was water under the bridge if it was 2-3 years old. I'm not going to say they didn't do damage to it during the Bush years, and then the democrats didn't modify it (hurt and heal it) during the Obama years, but that's comparing a punch to the face with being rendered apart by a chainsaw. Getting punched isn't the worst possible outcome you could walk away with.

So it's not quite so simple as, "during the war on terror the republicans loved federalism." because that's not true. They typically hate federalism for the threat it poses to their beliefs. But participating it is a necessary reality, and like keeping an eye on a fire in your yard, it's livable if you watch it closely. At least, not worth destroying future decades of political capital trying to put forwards Ron Paulian ideas like auditing the fed or abolishing national banks.

[chewwytwee]

Btw the reason terfs and Nazis still exist on tumblr isn’t just because tumblr has a financial incentive to retain users, it’s also because the communities ability to recognize dog whistles and calling cards is something that’s not possible to get an algorithm to do. Tumblr (and all social media) has to rely on a bulk of their moderation being done automatically by machines, and they’re really bad at picking up subtleties. Trans people are going to be much more open and proud in labeling themselves trans, whereas TERFs and other bigots are the exact opposite! TERFs will sometimes admit to it, but there are plenty of accounts that shinigami eyes (which is community sourced and reviewed) label as transphobic that never ONCE mention TERFs in no uncertain terms. I can tell and you can and shinigami eyes mods can tell that someone saying ‘Women’s spaces are under constant threat by gender ideologs’ is a transphobe, but what in that sentence is explicit transphobia? Well, the terminology isn’t what’s transphobic there, it’s the meaning of the words. Computers cannot do that kind of analysis and interpretation, they simply can’t and TERFs know that. On the other hand, TERFs have it very easy that most trans people will be very easily identifiable as trans. Trans people will put it in their URL in their Bio in their PFP in their posts, and they’re usually pretty specific about being trans. Computers can also absolutely identify the trans flag in your pfp or see ‘Trans’ in your bio and they can easily pick up on that explicit information. TERFs report spamming popular blogs run by trans women and reporting selfies of only transgender women could theoretically lead to a situation where, if tumblr were using its own users reports as data to train its moderation algorithm, there could be a false connection between those fake TERF reports and trans people (this probably isn’t the case, but i think it’s important to recognize that algorithms can and do make these kinds of unwanted false connections, and online hate campaigns know how to avoid AND use that behavior for their own personal gain. It’s a problem software engineers and machine learning experts spend a lot of time working on because it’s so hard to solve.)

If tumblr could remove every TERF from the platform would they? I don’t know, no one really does know. It’s a useless point to argue because it requires so many assumptions about the backend moderation process that’s it’s almost entirely speculation and anecdotes. What I can say is that TERFs and Nazis exist on literally every social media platform irregardless of whether or not the people running those social media want them there. Twitter famously had a hard time getting its content detection to identify between republican politicians and fascists, it’s funny to believe that regular republicans sound so much like fascists that they’re indistinguishable (which is true tbh) but the reality is a lot more boring, fascists try very hard to sound like normal moderate conservatives. Twitter very explicitly didn’t want far right extremism on their site, and yet it still went on to be one of the biggest breeding grounds for extremist hate movements (yes, even before Musk). Content moderation for social media is fucking hard, especially when it comes to dealing with humans, who are really good at finding ways to outsmart computers. Do I think tumblr wants Nazis and transphobes on their site? No, I don’t. Do I think there’s a problem with transphobia and fascism on this site? Abso fucking lutely. These two seemingly contradictory statements make perfect sense once you grasp how difficult it can be to identify and remove hate speech algorithmically, and if you ask me why I think there’s still such a problem with transphobes, that’s why.

Sometimes you see a post that’s just, so off base you feel the need to respond. But it has like 200 notes so it feels way too personal to leave a comment telling them why their entire point isn’t relevant and is in fact really wrong.

[storiesforallfandoms]

sweethearts ~ devon bostick

word count: 1446

request?: yes!

“I’m not sure if you do this but can you do a Devon Bostick imagine where they met on the set of Diary of a Wimpy Kid and they’re still together till this day? Possibly like them being asked about their relationship in a interview or something. Thank you so so much :))”

description: in which they’re teenage sweethearts, and everyone finds this fact absolutely adorable

pairing: devon bostick x female!reader

warnings: swearing

masterlist (one, two)

Landing the role of Jessie Jones in the first Diary of a Wimpy Kid movie was a massive deal for me for many reasons. First, it was my first starring role - I was playing a family friend of the Heffley’s and would be featured heavily in the movie. Then there was the fact that this was a movie adaptation of a very popular book series, a series that I had also been into at the time.

Walking onto set that first day I was shaking with nervousness. There were so many people - cast and crew - and they all looked so professional and used to a film set. I felt so out of place and I wondered if I should’ve been there.

“Hey!”

I looked up to see a boy around my age approaching me. I tried to swallow my nerves, but I found them just becoming heavier with someone actually talking to me.

“Are you our Jessie?” he asked.

I nodded. “Yeah, that’s me. I’m (Y/N).”

“Devon, I’m playing Rodrick.” He shook my hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, you too.”

I felt so awkward and I was so sure Devon could feel that. I just wanted to melt into a puddle on the ground and have the awkwardness be over with.

“Have you been to costume and makeup yet?” he asked. I shook my head. “Well, I have to go to costume now, I can show you where it is.”

I sighed with relief. “That would be great.”

“Follow me.”

He led me from the set to the group of trailers outside. I tried to peer at the signs on the trailer doors to see what they were, but we were walking so quickly I didn’t really have time.

“Is this your first movie?” Devon asked.

“Kind of,” I said. “I’ve had mainly small roles or background work. What about you?”

“A few bigger roles. I’m in the Saw movie that’s coming out this year, actually.”

“That’s awesome! Although I am a massive pussy so I think I’d skip on that one.”

Devon laughed. “I don’t blame you. They’re scary movies. I don’t even know if I’m allowed to watch the movie.”

Our conversation was interrupted when we arrived to the costume trailer. We were both whisked away to get ready. I didn’t see Devon for nearly an hour, but by the time we reunited we were preparing for the first scene of the day.

It didn’t take long for me to lose my nerves. Within a few minutes of shooting I got into the character and almost forgot about the cameras and the crew watching me. At the end of the day I didn’t even want to go home, I just wanted to keep filming.

Devon found me as I was waiting for my ride home. “Hey, great job today rookie.”

I chuckled. “Thanks. It helps to have such great castmates.”

“You seem pretty professional as is, but maybe we could hang out and run lines for tomorrow’s shoot. If...if you want?”

He seemed so shy and awkward, the exact opposite of how he had been all day. It was kind of cute...okay, really cute.

“That’d be great actually,” I said. “Where did you have in mind?”

“There’s a fast food place not too far from here. We could walk there.”

“Sounds good. Lead the way!”

~~~~~~

10 Years Later

My giant husky, Heimdall, came bounding into the room and onto my lap as I was talking to the talk show host on my laptop. I let out a groan as I felt the air being knocked out of me.

“Well, this is a pleasant surprise,” the talk show host chuckled.

“For you maybe,” I joked. “I don’t quite enjoy my big dog thinking he’s still a puppy or a lap dog, but I can’t really pretend like this is something new for him.”

Heimdall licked at my face as I scratched his head. Devon appeared in the doorway moments later, a guilty look on his face as he tried not to be too much on camera.

“Sorry, I didn’t realize the door was open,” he said.

“It’s okay,” I said to him.

Devon whistled for Heimdall to follow him out of the room, which led to the giant dog digging his paws into my stomach as he jumped off of me. I groaned again, playfully glaring after him as he trotted out the door.

“Interesting interlude there,” the host teased. “Was that Devon Bostick we heard in the background there?”

“It was indeed. He took Heimdall out for his daily walk while I’m in the interview. I’ll likely get tackled by the big brute again when I leave the room.”

“How often do the two of you get asked about Diary of a Wimpy Kid and your relationship starting there?”

“Not as often anymore. It’s been nearly 10 years since we started dating and eight since the last movie in the trilogy, which I wasn’t really in. I’ve been asked every now and then about it, but not as often as you would think.”

“Pardon my brief gushing, I just think the two of you are adorable. I mean, you were both teenagers when you met on set and started dating shortly after, and you’re still together all these years later! Most high school sweethearts don’t make it this long as it is, let alone being in the public eye for basically your entire relationship.”

“Well that’s the thing, we haven’t really been in the public eye all that often. We kept pretty lowkey when we first started dating, which wasn’t hard cause neither one of us was all that famous. Once our careers got bigger and we started getting noticed we had basically figured out how to hide from paparazzi and cameras and all. We don’t post about each other on social media all that much either, just a picture every now and again. We’re not sharing our day by day lives with the world basically, which I think is the best way to keep a relationship private and to navigate through being two celebrities dating.”

It had worked thus far in mine and Devon’s relationship. Even after confirming that we were dating just before the release of Rodrick Rules, neither one of us posted the other on social media at all. It wasn’t until the first set of breakup rumors started swirling that we decided to make tiny posts about each other when we felt like it, which was mainly on birthdays and holidays really.

Although, even if we were super public with our relationship, I didn’t think anything would pull us apart. As cheesy as it is to say, I did think Devon was my soulmate. We clicked so quickly after that first time hanging out (which we decided had been our first date years later), and I had never felt so confident that I was meant to be with someone. I wasn’t surprised that we were still together all these years later.

I continued with my interview for a while more before saying goodbye to the talk show host and leaving the video call. I sighed and stretched my back out, feeling the tensed muscles from sitting for so long popping. As I expected, the moment I opened the door, Heimdall came running for me.

“One of these days you’ll realize you’re not such a small dog anymore,” I told him, kneeling down to pet him. He licked at my face in response, which I figured meant he would never realize that.

“Did we derail the interview too much?” Devon asked, coming to join me on the floor.

I shook my head. “Not much. We talked about our relationship a little bit, but we moved on almost immediately after that.”

Devon smiled. “Yeah? What were you talking about?”

“Oh, the usual: meeting on set, keeping our relationship lowkey, when you’re gonna put a ring on it.”

He gave me a playful look. “You say that as if you’re not the one who said you’re more than okay with just being common law married until we’re 30.”

I nudged him. “Yeah, whatever. Let’s go take this oversized baby and watch some movies downstairs.”

Devon nodded and leaned forward. I gave him a quick kiss before pulling away and shoving the massive dog towards him. While he was incapacitated, I took the opportunity to run down the stairs. Heimdall was to his feel and chasing after me, Devon following closely on his tail.

I couldn’t imagine a better life than this, with my teenaged sweetheart and our fur baby. The perfect happily ever after if you asked me.

[pacific-rimbaud]

Love and Other Historical Accidents

Chapter 12: The Picnic

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Hermione Granger

Rated M for swearing and mild sexual content

Tags: romantic comedy, Regency romance, time travel, pining, miscommunication, slow burn, selective obliviousness

WIP 136k+, 12/13 chapters + epilogue

An ear-drum needling, dog-whistle whine emanated from the center of the kitchen table. Hermione’s ears throbbed.

“Steady on, lads!” Martin punched the steering toggle of his powered-down chair with a closed fist, like he meant to burst forward at top speed. “Hold the course! You’re doing real magic now, you boys!”

Stray energy churned through the room, causing every object in the cottage to ripple and wobble as though it was underwater. Books shivered in their clothbound hides, Hermione’s teeth hummed unpleasantly, and the chalk lines Draco and William etched over the surface of the table that morning quivered into woolliness.

Grix ground his teeth. “They’re going to blow the windows out.”

Hermione hated paired incantations. She wasn’t musical, but imagined it was rather like playing an instrument alongside another person, in one of its punishingly precise forms: a piano four hands divertissement rather than an all-comers drum circle in a municipal park. It meant relying on one’s partner to hit all their notes on time while missing none oneself.

It made her extremely cross.

The only person she’d ever actually enjoyed duetting beside was Draco: equally exact, equally sharp, and, for all his affected apathy, equally practised.

He and William stood at opposite ends of the kitchen table, wreathed in neon-yellow hoops of fizzling, improvident magic. Watching them, Hermione almost felt a pang of envy.

Continue reading on AO3

[redorich]

hey red i was wondering about Tubbo now and how much he suspects ppl, bc truthfully Tubbo is a smart kid, and he definitely knows something is up if his best friend, one of the loudest people he knows, protests about giving him any clue or information about the village bellow the surface. Sooner or later bits and pieces of information should connect, and Tubbo has always been a rule breaker.

"So, uh. The elevator's going up..." Ranboo says hesitantly.

Tubbo's keen eyes track the slow ascent of the elevator up from the depths of the Hermit canyon. "Whatever's in there, it's dangerous."

Ranboo shuffles back and forth, debating whether or not he should tell Tubbo what he saw all that time ago. The creeper-man with the gleaming steel face and red eye, the dog-man who swore to hold his tongue, the gigantic cavern of the Hermits' shopping district.

"Yeah, of course it's dangerous," Ranboo says, "but do we know for sure that it's angry? Maybe it's friendly?"

Tubbo snorts, not taking his eyes off the machine. "Since when are you optimistic?"

Ranboo sweats. "I dunno, I just--"

"Sorry," Tubbo interjects, forcibly untensing his shoulders. "I didn't mean to snap. I'm just... worried, is all. Remember the time Tommy went down there? He was there for days, and came out insisting that the Hermit isn't real. Something happened to him down there, I'm sure of it."

The elevator stops and the doors open. A tall, dark figure steps out, and Tubbo and Ranboo both reach for their weapons. The tall person(?) immediately trips on the edge of the door, pinwheeling their arms wildly to avoid falling on their face. The person, who appears to be a man now that the two teens can see him better, looks up at them and waves his hand.

Ranboo lets go of his weapon, and Tubbo hesitantly waves back. The moustached man waves more eagerly, like a golden retriever whose tail wags at the sight of a friendly human.

"Hello!" The man says, half-shouting to compensate for the distance. "My name's Mumbo, it's nice to meet you!"

"Tubbo," he introduces himself, then points at his partner. "Ranboo."

Mumbo trots closer on lanky legs almost as tall as Ranboo's, dusting a bit of redstone off his shoulder. "I'm new here," he says, "well, not new new, but I've not left the canyon much. Where's a good jungle when you need one, eh? I promised Iskall a parrot and I don't think he'll let me get away with a chicken twice."

Tubbo mumbles out some coordinates, and Mumbo thanks him with a pep in his step and a whistling tune, going on his merry way. He is headed in the exact opposite direction of the jungle.

"That just happened," Ranboo says.

"...Yeah, I don't think the Hermit is dangerous--"

Ranboo nods rapidly. "Yeah, the Hermit probably isn't dangerous--"

"Nice guy, really," Tubbo assents.

[jayeffect]

I’m genuinely sick and tired of this week and shows coming out. The amount of fandom bullshit and racist dog whistles and the fucking negative takes for attention and clicks and people straight being disingenuous to media rn, has got me JADED to no end. It’s on Reddit it’s one twitter and it’s on this fucking hellsite.You got motherfuckers out here saying how hypocritical or heinous she hulk is for womens empowerment when she just twerks in a fun cameo with Megan the stallion But watch game of thrones where women are frequently raped and murdered, along with showing the bleak reality about them not holding any true positions of power or whatever. You got people complaining about Rings of power for being too woke by adding a diverse cast or just for being apart of Amazon but never come out and support Chris smalls or boycott the other big shows on prime before this. Critical role is too slow or boring or hard to get into, when the pacing has been the EXACT OPPOSITE and the fucking idiots who say this ( LOOKING AT YOU TWITTER CR ) ARE STILL HUNG UP ON ESSEK AND CALEB, THE MIGHTY NEIN ENDING, SHITTING ON THE MIGHT NEIN ENDING, AND HAVENT KEEP UP WITH THE SHOW SINCE THE FIRST EPISODE OR JUST STRAIGHT HATE WATCHES OR HATE LOOKS UP THE CRITICAL WIKI.