#its not encouraging anyone to write anymore if people do this.

[kurooandkenmasslut]

lovely.

[renard-dartigue]

Hi now i'm curious what is the beef with the rappers

Man this is going to be long so I'll try to keep this simple and entertaining. I hope this comes across as clear cause I'm shook right now.

Here is a glossarie to break thing up:

Prologue (The Spark 🔥)

Round 1.1 (Physical Education 💪🏾)

Interlude part 1 (Roots 🏠)

Round 1.2 (2 Warning Shots 🔫)

Interlude part 2 (Pusha the Seer 👁)

Round 2.1 (Knifes Out 🔪 )

Round 2.2 (The Nuke 💥)

Epilogue (All eyes on him 👀)

My Theory 🤷🏾‍♂️

Highly recommend checking out the tracks yourself while you read along.

Prologue (The Spark)

Let it be known that I am a neutral party and that I don't take sides when it comes to rap beef. I was here for the music and creativity. I am just trying to recount events to the best of my knowledge. Sorry if some details are inaccurate.

Okay so basically, Drake, J Cole, and Kendrick Lamar are the Big 3 of the rap world right now.

A month ago, Future and Metro Boomin (two rapper who supposedly don't fuck with Drake anymore) released a song with Kendrick Lamar called "Like That". In the song Kendrick took a shot at Drake and J Cole, saying there isn't a big 3, its only him on top.

4 weeks ago J Cole dropped a track called "7 Minute Drill" that is dissing Kendrick. However, in a move that is very uncharacteristic of J, he took down the official track and formally apologized to Kendrick. Thus signaling his exit from the rap battle.

ROUND 1.1 (Physical Ed)

Drake on the other hand dropped "Push Ups" 2 weeks ago, a diss track that went after other rappers he doesn't like but mainly Kendrick. In it, he made fun of Kendrick's height and his contracts. He then ends the song with "I was really try'n keep it PG" meaning he has a nuke on Kendrick that people don't know.

Not long later, Drake dropped ANOTHER diss track "Taylor Made Freestyle" with Ai voices of Snoop Dog and fucking 2PAC! Kendrick has stated before that 2pac is one of his idols so this must have been a deep cut. In the song Drake claims Kendrick doesn't write his own music and uses the writers of Taylor Swift. Relating a rapper to pop music is seen as disrespectful.

INTERLUDE PART 1 (Roots)

Before I continue, I want to give a brief run down on how the public perceives these two rappers.

Drake portrays himself as a superstar, he's always on social media flaunting his success and partying with other celebrities, seeing alot of women and living a lavish lifestyle. His music is catchy, something you put on in the club. Most of his fan base praise him for his sick beats and witty lyrics. He's been in the music industry for a while and is no push over.

Kendrick Lamar is a very private person, doesn't expose anything about his personal life unless its on a track. He almost never gets into fights with anyone. He is a family man, stressing the importance of being there for his wife and son and encourages other fathers to do the same. His fan base praise him for his creative lyrics and highlighting the black American condition.

ROUND 1.2 (2 Warning Shots)

2 Day ago, Kendrick Lamar came back with his first official diss track on Drake called "Euphoria". In this song, Kendrick goes in on Drakes fake personality. Drake has always been known around the community as a bit of a poser, he grew up in Canada and was raised by his white mother, a relatively comfortable childhood. He was a star on the popular show Degassi when he was young. garnering him a fan base early in his career. Kendrick doesn't approve of Drake appropriating black American culture and acting like he some tough guy. When in reality he is a Canadian nerd thats disrespectful to 2pac. All throughout the song, Kendrick hits at things that many people have know about Drake, such as his behavior around underage girls. He also called Drake a deadbeat father who isn't in his son's life, even referencing his lost battle to Pusha T. Then Kendrick finally warns him that he has more dirt that he is willing to share if Drake takes things further.

Similar to Drake, Kendrick dropped another track called "6:16 in LA" later that day. This song focuses on Drake's environment, specifically the people he hangs with. Kendrick implies that Drake paid people to dig into his background and when they didn't find anything, Drake made up stuff instead. Kendrick then says that someone in Drakes group is leaking information to him about something even more serious. Also planting a seed in Drake's mind that his supposed friends don't actually like him, just like the clout from hanging around him.

INTERLUDE PART 2 (Pusha the Seer)

Taking a quick break again, we need to discuss something that occurred long before Drake's battle with Kendrick.

5 years ago, Drake was in a rap battle with rapper Pusha T, someone who was smaller than Drake at the time in terms of popularity. Pusha dropped a song called "The Story of Adidon" where he dropped a bomb that Drake had a kid and wasn't taking care of him. Drake initially denied it but it was later revealed to be true.

Since then Drake has never responded to Pusha T's diss track, making Pusha the current winner. And Kendrick is bringing it back into the light.

Round 2.1 (Knifes Out)

Around 2 am EST time of May 4th, Drake drops his diss track, "Family Matters" one of his strongest songs, switching his flow 3 times in the span of 7 minutes. In true Drake fashion, its a club song with a catchy beat. Like his previous diss, its aimed at multiple people but the main focus is on Kendrick, even bring up "I was really try'n keep this PG".

Drake doubles down on his black identity and mocks the fact that Kendrick and other rappers are saying he isn't black, (incorrectly assuming that they are coming at him for being mixed when the real issue is that he is appropriating black American rap culture as a Canadian mixed man who grew up in a safe environment) Drake not only calls Kendrick a fraud who only raps about black issues for attention, Or that his activism is performative. He makes a shocking claims that Kendrick is a wife beater. Then Drake says that Kendrick's son doesn't belong to him and implies Kendrick's producer was the real father.

The track caused an uproar. But only for the span of 15 minutes. Because Kendrick did the unthinkable.

ROUND 2.2 (THE NUKE)

Almost as if expecting Drake's move, Kendrick Lamar did what no one saw coming. He dropped his diss track "Meet The Grahams" about 15 minutes after Drake released "Family Matters".

This time around, in a fashion almost unheard of from him, Kendrick strips all the usual metaphors from his lyricism and structures his track like he is speaking to Drake and his family, 4 parts per individual.

Kendrick begins by speaking to Drakes Son, Adonis, the same son Pusha T exposed Drake for neglecting 5 years ago. He's apologizing to him for his father's behavior. Kendrick speaks to him softly but sternly like a mentor, telling him not to be like his father. Kendrick tells Adonis all the things Drake did and warns him not to do them too: involved with escorts, plastic surgery to appear more black, surgery to look more muscular, hiding a kid. (Kendrick stresses that Adonis is black regardless of being mixed, further highlighting that he isn't discrediting Drake's blackness because he's mixed but because he isn't being himself.) Finishing of by telling the kid to be proud of who he is.

The second half is Kendrick addressing Drake's mother and father, Sandra and Denise. Kendrick speaks to her like he's revealing tragic news, explaining to her that her son is involved in disgusting things. He goes down a list of things, his tone growing more intense and angry. Kendrick then claimed that Drake is employing and enabling pedos in his group, and hopes they die. Even implying that his group is going to be raided by the feds some day.

The third half is the MOST shocking of all. Kendrick begins talking to an unnamed individual, simply calls her babygirl. Similar to Adonis, Kendrick takes on a somber tone and apologizes to her for Drakes behavior. He says its not her fault Drake abandoned her, says that she is deserving of love. He warns her not to become a target for people like Drake to pray on and says she has so much to offer the world.

Kendrick revealed Drake has ANOTHER kid and isn't in their life! (Allegedly)

To close of, the fourth half is Kendrick speaking directly to Drake, his tone tired. He tries to reiterate that he doesn't have hate for him. However, Kendrick says Drake was the first one to go after his family and he couldn't let it slide. He once again calls for Drake to take the mask off. Then says this isn't a rap battle anymore, tells Drake he is fighting himself.

Epilogue (All eyes on him)

And so here we are, waiting for what will happen next.

Drake posted an Instagram story denying the claim he has another kid. But given what happened with Pusha T, we can't quite take his word for it yet. We should wait a bit to see if anything comes out.

Kendrick hasn't put out a statement on Drake's claims about him but given the recurring theme of Drake being a manipulative lier, Kendrick clearly denies it. Given how private he is, its difficult to prove or disprove it. Much like Drake's claims, we will have to wait and see if any evidence comes out about it.

Drake and Kendrick stans are at eachothers throats right now, arguing over who one and whats real or fake.

Right now everyone is looking to see if Drake is going to continue the battle or stay silent like he did with Pusha.

My Theory

Personally as an outside observer who only followed the beef for good music. I think this goes beyond a simple rap battle.

Here is my theory: Someone from Drake's clique told Kendrick that Drake and his producers were writing something about him. Real or fake, Kendrick was pissed. And so he drafted 3 tracks, dumping everything he hates about Drake into them. And then, with the leaker's help, Kendrick baited Drake into a battle, goading Drake to drop the "Family Matters" track so he can shut the battle down with "Meet the Grahams". Or maybe his first 2 tracks were a warning to Drake that if he released a track with lies on him he would reveal he has another kid.

I do think Kendrick initially had good intentions in trying to help Drake be a better person. But maybe the more he learned about Drake the less sympathetic he felt.

But I don't know thats just how I see it.

Thanks for reading my essay. I hope it made sense heh. I encourage healthy discussions in the comments and reblogs please. But everyone agrees that Drake is inappropriate with young girls. We won't argue over that.

[amywritesthings]

Love your fic love, it's the best one I've ever read. Could you do something from Levi pov when he started realising he liked Reader and he felt about that?

first of all, thank you for such lovely words! i'm so happy you like it. second of all, i can certainly write you a levi pov where he had his 'oh shit do i like her?' moment xo

all at once. / levi ackerman x f!reader

word count: 900 warnings: language, levi pov set in the silver underground universe

( read on ao3 here )

Furlan had a funny saying about the people he fell head over heels for.

It happens slowly, he once told Levi.

The two of them were sitting around their newly-bought two-bedroom apartment, comically vacant and egregiously filthy.

With his long legs outstretched and crossed at the ankle, Furlan chose to sink his palms into the dust to tattoo his fingerprints. 

To say he was there.

(I was here. I am here.)

Levi chose a more civilized position — sitting backwards on one of the only two chairs they had in this place, his sleeved forearms folded over each other on its curved back. He peered down at his friend with the utmost curiosity, head hung under a curtain of black fringe.

“The hell’s this question coming from?” Levi grunted as he shifted his shoe on the floor.

Fucking disgusting; he wasn’t going to sleep tonight if the entire apartment ended up being this damn dirty. 

“What do you mean?” Furlan asked. "Which topic?"

“The topic of this,” Levi clarified, “and why you’re so interested in who I may be looking at on the streets."

"What, we can't gossip?"

The way Levi's brow quirked said otherwise. Furlan sighed.

"We're roommates now."

"So?"

"So?"

"I don’t think I asked who you're interested in, Church.”

“No, you didn’t,” Furlan hummed happily with a dopey smile on his face. “But now that we have this place with two whole bedrooms to ourselves, we have the luxury of inviting people over. Think about it: two young and handsome bachelors, ready to take on the—”

“Wait, invite people over?” Levi interrupted, brow rising. “This isn’t a community house. It's headquarters.”

“No, I know."

"Do you?"

"Yeah! But like I said, think about it: now that we’re taking names and carving our own legacies down here, I’m sure plenty of people will think we’re great. Maybe we'll even get some kinda group of admirers for our efforts.”

“Doubtful.”

“Aw, c’mon, Levi,” Furlan pouted. “Don’t you like anyone? There’s that one guy with the tattoos over on second street.”

“No.”

“Or the dark-haired girl who always seems to give you a discount on soups.”

“Not happening.”

“Why not?”

“Because.”

Furlan blinked.

The black-haired boy felt his temper — and embarrassment — rising.

“Because I wouldn’t know what the fuck it feels like to like someone like… that.”

Levi grit the truth between his teeth, hating the honesty that came with this ridiculous conversation. 

The Underground City doesn't quite offer anything real. Down here love was transactional. There wasn't room for emotional error.

He saw what it did to his mother.

He saw how it molded whatever the fuck he’d call Kenny.

Bottom line was that feelings weren’t good.

And then there was Furlan, looking at him like he’d grown a second head.

“Well, when you realize there's something about someone, it's slow,” the ash-blonde boy suggested, nodding with encouragement. “From my understanding, liking a guy, girl, person, whatever — it happens slowly, then all at once.”

“How’s it slow?”

Furlan smiled, knocking his feet side to side against the wooden floorboards.

“Probably because the people you actually like are kinda in the background until they aren’t anymore.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Levi echoed. "You're supposed to be attracted to them first."

"That definitely helps, but that's like... lust or whatever," Furlan challenged. "I'm talking about liking someone. Wanting to hold hands or be with them so you can listen to them talk all the time and never get bored of what they're saying."

Levi scoffed, turning his chin sharply to the right as he considered.

Slow, then all at once.

Except it was never slow.

It would’ve been really fucking helpful if it had been.

You’d been ready to rip his throat open all those years ago.

No one had ever gotten the jump on him the way you had. No one would ever come close.

Maybe watching your fights after Kenny dropped him for reasons unsaid had been the slowest part about this. Watching your sweat-streaked face as you caught your breath in the midst of folding someone double your size like it was nothing. Listening to your voice in the alleyway when you spoke to that witch of a woman. Conjuring up an excuse to talk to you, to see if you even remembered—

It’d been all at once from the very beginning.

Someone as fleeting as a ghost had haunted his once dreamless sleep.

Hell, you still did.

“Sounds like you got someone in mind.”

His gray eyes darted back to Furlan, instantly on the defensive.

The other boy sported a goofy smirk. Levi scowled.

He could tell him.

He could ask if the way his throat closed up whenever he so much as considered uttering her name was a sign that he was head over heels.

That sometimes it wasn’t slow, but as fast as a blow to the damn head.

That sometimes liking a stranger felt more powerful than anything he'd ever known.

“Nah,” Levi lied, surging from his seat to stand at full height. “Only thing I’m interested in is cleaning this piece of shit up. I’m not sleeping on cobwebs tonight, so get up, grab a broom, and help.”

James.

Maybe one day he’d face it; liking someone.

Really, genuinely, devastatingly wanting someone.

But he couldn’t afford it.

(Maybe one day.)

[unlimitedlust]

Good Girl Gone Bad (Javier Peña x Reader)

A/N: Heyyy, another Javier Peña thristy fanfiction for you!!! Now heads up for initial details I noted people appreciate:

Word count: 4.3K

Disclaimers: it’s a female Reader x Javier story, +18 (very explicit scenes ahead guys) 🌶️🔥👄💦, unprotected p in v, tinges of sub Javi and breeding kink!!!

When you see this “-0-”, I recommend you to put “Ride or Die, Pt. 2” by Sevdaliza, Villano Antillano and Tokischa for ambiance purpose!!!

Please let me know if you enjoyed it, likes and reblogs are very much appreciated and also encourage me to keep writing (if you like my writing ofc 😅)

Enough said: Enjoy your reading!!!

Javier seized the burning sensation from the freshly brewed coffee down his throat as he took a big gulp from his mug, as if the bitter liquid was going to turn off his mind from all the work he had to do for at least a few seconds. His eyes scanned the big piles of files around him, the full ashtray almost falling off the front border of his table and next to the telephone he’d left off the receiver on purpose.

DEA staff ran up and down their office talking on the phone, receiving and printing new information from loud fax machines, typewriters keys clicking annoyingly loud, both English and Spanish being spoken all the time. For an ordinary person who wasn’t used to such a busy dynamic it was a maddening environment itself, not to mention the main part of their job, which was chasing after narcos.

Javier knew all their faces and names, but he was under such stress he just didn’t care to engage in any kind of small talk conversations with his coworkers anymore, and day after day he understood the wallflower that sat in the farthest corner of the office, just doing her job like a horse on a winker.

He knew she worked there for a while now, but all the knowledge he had about her was her name and that she was a great investigator. She was so quiet the only times he’d heard her voice was when someone greeted her and she greeted them back. At first Javier thought she was a weirdo, but now not only he admired her invisibility and discretion, but also understood why she wanted to be left in peace in a corner just doing her job.

The fact that she was a beautiful woman didn’t go unnoticed by him of course, even without ever seeing her smile, but she kept herself shut to any contact with anyone in that place he just didn’t dare to bother the peace she seemed to hold and he envied so much.

Sadly his position in the DEA didn’t allow him to have that luxury, after all, he was The Javier Peña.

Hours flew by and by the time Javier broke his attention away from the files in front of him, he realized it was dark outside and he was alone in the building again.

He knew he still had endless work to do for the day, but he’d had enough, his head would explode if he spent another night in that office, he needed to leave and blow off some steam.

“Fuck this shit”

-0-

Grabbing his car keys, Javier left the empty DEA office and drove mindlessly around the city looking for the first place that would grab his attention enough to drag him inside.

Tonight he wasn’t looking for a hooker to spend a few hours by his side, if he wanted that he’d just head home and call one of his contacts and get it over with.

He wanted something different, something cheerful and with heavy drinks, he desperately needed to forget his job and all the shit he had to deal with everyday just for a few hours.

A club with big pink neon lights adorning its name caught his attention as he parked his vehicle on the side of the street, the loud reggaeton beats coming from the inside drawing him in as he made his way to the entrance.

Just as he stepped inside he was swallowed by a sea of sweaty and drunken people dancing, twerking, grinding on each other, hands all over the place, allowing the sensual and captivating beat to take over their bodies and desires.

It was perfect for what Javier needed at that moment.

He made his way through the crowd to one of the bars, checking out a few asses on his way there, feeling more comfortable and confident as he received some flirtatious glances in his direction.

With an ice cold beer in hand he checked out the dance floor in front of him once again, but this time a woman in a dark pink skin tight dress caught his attention. He hadn’t seen her face yet as she had her back turned in his direction, but the way she swayed her hips and how that tantalizingly short dress hugged her body in all the right places made his mouth water at the sight. He couldn’t help but wonder how she would look like moving like that on his dick, riding him in a reverse cowgirl position with that juicy ass and bouncy hips. The thought alone made his jeans feel tighter on himself.

Javier took a larger gulp of his beer as he got ready to approach her, ready to use all of his charm and unfailing game with women in hopes to be the one to take her home tonight.

But as soon as she turned in his direction, his jaw dropped when he realized the woman he was lusting on was the wallflower from the DEA, the one that no one knew nothing about other than her name and the info on her files, held a naughty smile on her face as she danced in the most provocative way possible, dragging not only Javier’s but many other men’s attention, and she knew it, she meant it.

Every now and then men tried to approach her to dance with her and maybe get a little taste, but she ditched them all gracefully. She didn’t want them. She wanted to feel desired and lusted on, but for her the real fun was in taking the candy out of their mouths, which was drawing them in like a mermaid, to then ditch them off like nothing.

The new discovery only encouraged Javier to take his shot with her. He was well aware that working with her could be both a leverage or a weakness, and there was only way he could find out.

She hadn’t seen him yet, the dim and colorful flickering lights over her didn’t allow her to see faces clearly from a certain distance, so he used that to watch her, waiting for the perfect window to go after her.

And just as she left the dance floor to the bar at the other side of the club the window was open.

“Good girl only during business hours?” Javier purred in her right ear just as she rested her forearms on the counter.

He didn’t miss the way his low voice caused goosebumps on her skin, the thin hairs on her arms standing immediately as he got by her side on the counter, waiting for her answer as she displayed a sly smirk on her plush lips.

“What makes you think I’m not a good girl full time?” She batted her eyelashes, a challenging glimmer in her orbs as her eyes traveled from his brown ones to his mouth, watching him lick his lips for a second as he seemed to get lost in his sinful thoughts for a moment.

Taking him off guard, she rested her right hand on his chest and slid her index finger over the first sets of buttons of his cream shirt, opening the them skillfully in a swift motion, revelaving part of his tanned and smooth chest, the light touch of her fingertip being enough to make his heart race.

“I like you better that way” The playful smirk never leaving her lips “Charming”

“Charming enough to buy you a drink?”

“I like shots better”

Javier was now by her side, right elbow propped on the counter as he signaled the bartender for two shots of tequila. He put two shot glasses in front of them along with a salt cellar and served them a small plate with pieces of lime, producing the bottle containing the golden liquid for last.

“Leave the bottle” He demanded just as the bartender finished filling the glasses.

They put salt on their hands, licked it and downed their first shot, the section of lime coming right after to soothe the bitter oaky punch, the alcohol instantly warming up their bodies.

“How did you find me here?” She asked, running her thumb in the corner of her lips to clean off the excess of lime juice.

“Are you upset about that, cariño?”

He faked a pout.

“Well…” She paused, pretending to be thinking deeply about the answer “I’m actually glad you found me”

“Is that so? Mind telling me why?”

“If you play my cards right, might as well show you” She teased him, pouring them another round of tequila.

“Then teach me how to play them”

They took their second round of tequila, but this time their eyes never broke their contact, a silent dispute of power between them, hunters hunting one another, testing each other to see how far their teasing would go, who would lose the battle and give in first.

Javier was both amused and tempted.

Amused because he still couldn’t believe that in front of him, challenging him, was the shy reserved woman from the DEA, claws out and ready to attack.

Tempted because she was the temptation herself. But Javier was a competitive man and he wasn’t going down without a fight.

“Do you dance, Mr. Peña?”

“Javi” He corrected “You’ll have to find out by yourself”

“I’ll take my chances”

She winked and handed him another shot, both of them sinking it fast, the spicy-woody liquid didn’t even burn their throats anymore as their bodies already felt like in flames, not only from the alcohol, but also from the heated exchange between them as every second, every word, every glance felt like electric shocks, like adding fuel to the fire.

Javier waited for her to give the next move as she sized him up, the smug look on her face making clear she had nothing but bad intentions in her mind, and oh boy how he wanted to get into her trouble.

“Come on”

She hooked her index finger in one of his pant’s belt loops and pulled him, the sudden move making Javier jolt forward, his body halting less than an inch away from hers, a dangerously short distance separating them as she watched amused his surprised reaction over her small stunt.

Colorful lights beamed over them as they were now in the middle of the dance floor, a loud song with heavily provocative beats and lyrics guiding their bodies, her arms resting loosely around his neck and one of his hands keeping her close by the end of her back as they danced together, their hips moving in sync, up close, almost intimate, but never brushing against each other, one of his legs strategically positioned between hers as they swayed sensually.

She slid one of her hands down his chest seductively, but this time, he was the one in control.

The hand on her back slid to her waist and spun her around, his hands now keeping her in place and practically locked against his body by her lower belly and waist, her ass now rolling irresistibly close to his crotch.

Javier loved how her skin reacted to the way he manhandled her, goosebumps all over as she bit her bottom lip and threw her head back, leaning against his shoulder as she let herself get lost in her own lustful thoughts for a moment, the suggestive lyrics only adding to her imagination.

Taking advantage of her exposed neck, Javier got intoxicated by her smell, the jasmine and warm notes of cocoa overpowered his senses as his lips traced the sensitive skin towards her ear, the light touch of his lips along with his mustache intensifying the goosebumps she still hadn’t recovered from yet.

“Am I up to your expectations?” He whispered in her ear, his lips moving just above her lobe. His teasing affected her more than she’d like to admit.

They lost track of the time they spent dancing together, teasingly of course, but also having a great time singing, laughing and smiling at each other.

Javier, who'd never seen her smile before that night, couldn’t take his eyes off her lips every time they curved upwards, revealing not only her beautiful lined teeth, but also the dimples on her glowing cheeks, lighting up her already cheerful face.

And again he caught himself admiring her, as they were now outside of the club. Javier stood leaning his back on his truck’s passenger door while she stood on his opposite side, leaning herself on the wall behind her.

A comfortable silence hung between them as he lit up a cigarette and she drank the last bottle of beer she got on their way out. Javier inhaled the smoke, enjoying the feel of the nicotine kicking in his system as he watched her take a gulp from the bottle, her lips wrapping around it softly as she reciprocated his gaze.

He wondered what her lips felt like, not only against his lips, but all over his body, plump and soft kissing him, caressing him, marking him, sucking him, the thought alone making his pants feel tight once again.

The sound of her heels clicking on the pavement took him out of his reverie as he now realized she was coming to him, slow and steady steps. She left the half empty bottle on his truck’s roof behind his head and then took the cigarette from his hands, bringing it to her own lips as she held it between her manicured nails.

And just as she leant on his vehicle by his side, he took his cue to leave his position and imprison her between his body and the truck, his arms hovering on each side of her head, the smug smile indicating she had him right where she wanted him to be: his body inches away from hers, the muscles on his arms twitching with the force he held onto the truck’s roof ledge, trying not to lose the last bit of restraint he still had.

She puffed the smoke out of her lips towards his, the simple yet enticing gesture making him snap and take the cigarette off her hands in a swift motion, throwing it away just as he crashed his lips against hers.

Their tongues met right away initiating an erotic dance, devouring each other, euphoria rushing through their veins as their teasing had finally reached its goal.

Javier cupped her jaw and pressed his body against hers urgently, the jolt against the truck making the beer bottle fall and shatter on the ground, the loud noise and green glass on the pavement not bothering them at all as she pulled the soft curls on his nape and grazed her teeth against his lower lip.

His big hands slid down her waist behind her and grabbed her ass cheeks, pulling her up and making her wrap her legs around him for support, her short dress rolling up to her hips leaving her almost half naked on the street.

Using the leverage he had with the position, Javier ground his raging erection trapped inside his jeans against her core, covered only by already drenched black lace panties, earning a strangled whimper from her.

Part of him wanted to just pull her panties aside and take her right there on the street against his truck, raw and rough. But the other part wanted to take his time with her, after all it would be a shame to just resume the last few hours of teasing in just a few minutes. And also, he didn’t know if he’d had another shot with her after they got back to their professional facades.

“Are we getting inside your truck or you want to give our audience explicit content?” She tilted her head, indicating the group of people next to the club’s door, a few curious eyes lingering, waiting for their next step “Either way I’m in”

“You’re mine only, at least for tonight” His teeth dug on the soft flesh of her neck as he fished the car keys in his back pocket “But as long as I can fuck you I’m into anything you want, bonita”

Javier put her down and opened the truck’s back door, revealing the brown leather cushion dimly illuminated by the street lights.

He let her in first and watched with hungry eyes the way she crawled inside the vehicle and then rolled her body upwards, resting her back on the other door only to then slide her panties down and off her legs, spreading them open in a seductive way, offering herself to Javier, who hurriedly got inside the truck and closed the door behind him.

He pulled her by her ankle and hovered over her, his gaze connecting deeply to hers as he fished the panties she’d dropped on the car floor and put them in his back pocket, the simple yet unexpected action arousing her even more.

Javier’s hand made its way to her nape, bringing her head up for a breathtaking and passionate kiss, their hungry tongues invading and exploring each other's mouth as her fingers slid down the buttons of his shirt, undoing them without breaking their kiss.

As they devoured each other frantically, her hands explored his broad chest and abs, enjoying the feeling of his soft golden skin under her digits and the way his muscles flexed with the thrusting movements he made every now and then, purposely grinding his clothed erection against her exposed core.

Their kiss got sloppy as Javier’s hand found its way down her body, feeling her soft breasts, the curve of her hips then down the smooth skin of her thigh and leg, hooking it on his back before his hand slid up her body again but this time, skipping no beat towards her intimacy.

Javier growled when he finally felt how wet she really was for him, her arousal coating his fingers sliding up and down her pussy in feather-like touches just to tease her.

Whimpering, she rolled her eyes and clawed his back under his shirt when he increased the pressure with his digits and traced tight circles against her needy clit, her whole body melting under him as it got overpowered by shameless waves of pleasure.

Drinking in her sexed expression, Javier slid a finger inside her wanting a bigger dose of satisfaction out of the intoxicating woman under him. The unexpected invasion of his thick

finger made her moan louder and arch her back against his body, which only encouraged him to add another one right after, stretching her further, her slick pussy clenching around his fingers in response.

She bit his shoulder as he finger fucked her, his fingers massaging the magic spongy spot inside her as his thumb roled lazy circles on her clit, making her nails drag angry scratch marks down his back while her other hand pressed hard on the leather backrest, nails desperately digging in it.

Javier trailed small nips and kisses along her collarbone and neck while his fingers kepting working on her, all of it adding to the building pleasure in her lower stomach, getting her closer and closer to bursting at each expert rub of his rough digits against her clit and g-spot.

But she didn’t want to come yet, much less in that submissive condition.

Fighting against her own urges, she pulled his hand out of her, bringing it to her lips to lick her own juices off his fingers, her dark orbs drawing him in as she sucked his fingers suggestively, swirling her tongue around them.

“Now sit” She commanded, cheeks still red and heart racing from his finger fucking “And take of your shirt”

She didn’t need to ask Javier twice for him to comply, he knew she was close on his fingers, and now he wanted to see and feel what she had in mind.

Just as he took his shirt off and straightened his back against the seat, she straddled him and pulled down the top half of her dress, exposing her breasts, hard perky nipples at his mouth’s level and he couldn’t help but to dive in.

Javier fondled and squeezed them hard with both hands before he took a mouthful of one of them, teeth grazing the hard bundle of nerves, then rolling and sucking in with his flat tongue, and then repeated the same stimulation on the other one, feasting on the soft mounds before him as she unfastened his belt and unbuttoned his jeans.

Catching up with her intentions, Javier lifted his hips from the seat, enough to take both pieces of clothes off, allowing her to undress him completely, all while he still delved into her breasts.

With his thick and hard manhood free, she spread his leaking precum over his tip with her thumb, tantalizing him before she finally took it and held it against her clit, rocking her hips back and forth, arching her back towards the front seat behind her and getting herself off against his shaft, her slick blending with his precum.

Javier broke apart from her chest to gaze down between them, his cock sliding easy against her drenched folds, teasing him shamelessly.

“Condom?” He asked, but only out of politeness.

“No” She leaned in, foreheads touching as she whispered against his lips “I wanna feel all of you”

Her answer got his cock impossibly harder and dying to feel her, and for his luck, she was also getting impatient.

Javier held his breath the moment she stopped her motions right when his tip was lined to her entrance, the thrill of anticipation of finally having her making his heart race faster as his hands flattened on her thighs.

“Tell me what you want” She demanded seductively, teasing his tip pressed against her opening, torturing him with slow rolls of her hips, threatening to slide down on him at any second.

“I want you, cariño” He gasped, chest heaving up and down.

“Yeah? And what do you want me to do with you?” One of her hands cupped his jaw and brought his lips close to hers, close enough to feel his ragged breath against hers.

“Ride me, bonita, I’m yours”

She placed a soft kiss against his lips before she leaned back between the front seats and placed her hand over her mound, fingers spreading her folds apart allowing him to have a full view of where his tip met her pussy, until she finally sank on his cock, her opening slowly welcoming and swallowing him in, his thickness stretching her walls each inch as his name came out of her lips in the sexiest moan he’d ever heard, and he swore that that scene alone was enough to make him cum.

But he needed to last, he needed to feel more of her, see her, have her, every detail in front of and on him, getting him terribly pussy drunk on her at each second as he felt their bodies merging and watched his cock disappear inside of her, her walls tightening around him in a slippery and warm embrace.

He threw his head back and rolled his eyes as she started to ride him at a deeply addictive pace, his fingertips digging in the flesh of her hips, pulling her harder down on him at each thrust forward.

“Eyes on me, Javi” Her command came out as a needy whine as her hand slid down his neck towards his shoulder, the skin slapping sounds getting louder as her bounces got harder.

Javier moved one of his hands to the back of her head, fingers tangling in the roots of her hair as he now thrusted his hips up to meet hers, the new and unexpected angle made her cry out his name again and dig her nails onto his shoulders, looking for an extra leverage.

He hooked his other arm on her lower back keeping her body against his, and the way she melted in his arms only made him keep on, thrusting harder and faster against her while she held onto him for her dear life.

Without disconnecting their bodies, Javier laid her on the backseat, eager to be the one fully in charge, especially because holding his release back was being a lot harder than usual.

One of his hands took support in the car’s windows, which was completely humid and foggy and entrentched with sex as he fucked her hard, her back arching and her walls tightening around him with her climax right around the corner.

She closed her eyes and moaned even louder as he put one of her legs over his shoulder, the new angle allowing him to go even further, deeper and drive her into oblivion in record speed.

“Look at me when I’m fucking you” He demanded, bossy as the Javier Peña she was used to watch on duty, and that was the line for her to feel the knot on her lower belly snap hard, strong waves of white hot pleasure through her veins, making her cum hard and milk his cock looking deeply in his dark eyes.

The mesmerizing scene together with the clenching from her climax on his shaft also made him cum seconds after her, exploding inside her, his hot seed filling her in long spurts, the feeling of his dick throbbing inside her riding her high for a few extra seconds before they collapsed, the hand on the car window leaving a wet trail as it lazily slid down.

She moaned when he finally pulled out, instantly missing him inside her as he carefully took her in his arms and laid next to her, nestling her body against his, both their breathings and heart beats still racing fast.

“We have a problem now” He muttered looking at the car’s ceiling.

“What?” Her answer was low and unconcerned, too fucked out to care about anything at that moment.

“Office hours are gonna be challenging from now on.”

[batshaped]

twitter stop fucking up for one second challenge (impossible)

well,

here’s the thing. it feels like social media is changing lately. every social media site seems to be fucking up or getting worse in its own special little way. i recently read and thought a lot about this article which coins the term “enshittification” and describes the process by which every social media platform eventually becomes so greedy as to become unusable. it makes me wonder if the social internet is due for a big shift in the near future. 

for a long time, twitter was the best place for me. for all its issues, it had the audience that i could reach the easiest, that was the most invested in my art. i got (still get) a lot of awesome replies and really great analysis of my work on twitter, which i didn’t receive on any other platform. i was able to encourage those readers by retweeting their comments and theories to show that i liked hearing their thoughts. i could use the Moments feature to organize my art and make my comic easily readable in order. and anyone could look at my twitter, account or no.

ever since the site was bought out, twitter is getting worse. i can’t use the app on mobile anymore because every reply section is drowned out by blue checks and choked with ads. the Moments feature was disabled and people couldn’t easily read my comics in order anymore. and this is without even touching on the bigger/more serious issues the buyout has brought to the app. these are just the ways it has made my personal experience of being an artist on there worse. and now, apparently, you can’t even look at my work unless you have an account.

it’s been pretty common in the past year for the new management to implement a bad feature and then undo it after backlash, and maybe this too will be reversed. but even if it is unimplemented, the platform will continue to get worse. all platforms are getting worse right now. all of them are becoming untenable to use without 7 bespoke browser extensions to block ads, hide specific unwanted content, force chronological order, and so on. on mobile i don’t even bother. apps are unusable. 

on top of that, i have the personal issue of not being the type of creator who is particularly good at staying on top of more than one or two platforms daily. twitter has been my main for years now, so i’m pretty good about updating it very regularly. instagram is trailing behind, i usually remember to post there daily (especially as i’m remaking mine right now and posting my entire backlog) but sometimes i forget. and that’s kind of my limit. every other site falls by the wayside because i just don’t want to spend my whole day or life updating platforms. i know there are tools that can do it automatically for you but i don’t want to do it that way and then i’d have to figure out a new tool and get yet another account on yet another app and install yet another extension to use it.

i just want to draw. i don’t know how we arrived at this place where we need to be 700 other things when we are just artists. i draw and write, isn’t that enough? if i wanted a presence on tiktok i’d also have to be a video editor who pays close attention to trends and makes sure to transform my artwork into something people on that app are interested in. even if i just wanted to have a strong presence on say, twitter/instagram/tumblr/tapas/webtoon i’d have to take on another (unpaid) job as my own social media manager, meticulously managing my uploads across 5+ apps and making sure everything is up to date and tailored to what “works” on each particular platform. i already have a day job—i’m a storyboard artist. the art i post online is supposed to be made and given freely for my own enrichment first and foremost, and for the joy of sharing with others as a close second.

i wonder if we’re due for a mass rejection of this increasingly draining cable-wars-style model of spreading ourselves thin across multiple platforms just to reach the exclusive audience each one provides. i’m starting to feel done with that concept, but i still want to share my art. i want to hear my readers’ thoughts. i want to create things that connect with others. i want to do it without these ever-mounting obstacles.

what i’m doing about it is creating my own website at my own domain that belongs to me. i doubt i’ll be quitting social media when it’s done. social media is still where the audience i cherish lives. but you can bet that when that website is ready to be shared, i’ll be talking about it on every social media account i own. i’ll be telling everyone there’s a place to look at my art where you don’t need an account, you don’t have to struggle through a morass of ads, and you don’t have to line the pockets of a billionaire who bought a social media app on a whim. it’ll just be you and my art. alone together.

by the way, to @whatthehelljake​ i apologize for writing a fucking SAT essay on a screenshot of your reply. any exasperated tone here is not directed at you at all. it’s directed at this sea of obstacles that disrupt the simple concept of “i made art and i want to share it with you.” your reply is how i found out today that twitter made this change. i cherish the fact that you want to connect with my art so much that you alerted me to this. i wish that wasn’t necessary. i want to make my work on my own terms—and want you to be able to experience it on YOUR own terms.

all that to say, i think the website is going to be the main answer to this issue. i don’t see myself having the energy to update tumblr that much more often than i already do, though maybe i’ll try to pick up the pace a little now. we’ll see. holy shit if you read all this go drink a glass of water or something get up and stretch. ok thank you bye <3

[lacefuneral]

ok i've seen some posts about the tumblr alternative cohost but none that were actually helpful so!

(disclaimer: i am very new to this website. users who have been there longer can and should chime in with additions and/or corrections)

Cohost Introduction Post

What is cohost?

Cohost is a fledgling website that is essentially a tumblr clone, but with its own culture and site-specific features. It is also very much a work in progress. You are encouraged to talk in the cohost forum to suggest changes for devs, report bugs, and upvote other people's suggestions. This website WILL grow and change over time. And as such, I do not know if/when the information I share here will be outdated. Edit: To answer an ask I received, anyone can join cohost without an invite. It used to be invite-only. It is not this way anymore.

Is "adult content" allowed there?

Yes. Cohost is not on the app store, meaning that it is not subject to Apple's specifications. You can post illustrations, writing, and photographs (cohost does not support any video formats at this time, just gifs). Cohost has an elaborate filtering and trigger warning system (moreso than tumblr), and you can disable adult content for your entire account or for individual tags. I actually don't engage with the adult content at all on there. Visual CSEM (both real and fictional) is specifically forbidden (although frankly I think the guidelines could be stricter wrt written content. Still, does seem to handle this better than AO3 does, going as far to say that written content about real minors is forbidden.)

How are minors protected?

The minimum age to join cohost is 16, and requires proof of parental permission to join. Users who are under 18 are automatically age-gated and cannot view adult content.

If cohost isn't on the app store, how is it used?

You can, of course, use cohost on a computer, but it is designed with mobile in mind. Opening the website on any IOS browser, clicking "share", and then "add to home screen" will install an app for you to use. The same can be done on an android. There is a guide here.

How does cohost work?

First, you create an account. Then you wait for approximately two days (read: weekdays) for the account to be activated. This is done to prevent spam bots. In the meantime, edit your profile. List some interests, your pronouns, your other social media links. Give yourself an icon. Note: icon and banner file sizes are small. You may need to shrink and compress images.

After the two days are up, make your first post! Write a basic introduction (with what you feel comfortable you feel sharing) and list some interests you like, maybe some hobbies, media, etc. And then tag this post with "#welcome to cohost". This will let existing members know that someone new has joined, and they may initiate conversation and/or follow you.

Next, go to the search and type in "The Cohost Global Feed" and click on the tag. Bookmark this tag. This is essentially one giant community space where you can find random users. (There is currently some discourse on the website as to whether this tag existing is a "bad thing" or not because "cohost isn't supposed to have a global tag". Just ignore that lol). Next, go back to search and type in things you like. TV shows, maybe. Video games. Music. Anything. See if people have posted in the tags. Follow them. Comment on their stuff. Click "like" to bookmark the post if you want to.

Most crucially, make sure that you bookmark the actual tag so you can look in that tag again later without having to manually type it each and every time. Also, you get a feed called "bookmarked tags" which allows you to scroll through all of them at once, which replaces the "for you" feature other websites have.

You can "share" a post (called "rebug" in user slang) which serves the same purpose as a reblog on tumblr. In a rebug, you can add your own tags or comment in the body of the post. Cohost users do not talk in tags as much as tumblr users - they tend to prefer to speak in the body of a rebug, or in the comment section (replies). At this time, you cannot view all reblogs. But you can view all comments in the comment section. Any post that is rebugged will preserve the tags of the OP, with any additional tags added being attributed to you. Rebugs are named after the website mascot Eggbug, a purple bee-like insect.

Posts are called "chosts" - and shitposting is called "shitchosting." Two examples of global shitposting tags are "#css crimes" - which is when a person does goofy things with the HTML/CSS editor to make colorful text, fake chat windows, and such - and "#shitchosting" which is a general shitposting tag. I've also seen people use tags like "#random".

If a post makes you laugh, check out the OP's profile. See if they post frequently, and if you have any common interests. If you realize you want to block or mute someone instead, you can.

You can send asks just like on tumblr, but your inbox must be manually opened first. So remember to do that.

How do I look at my own blog?

This is one of my gripes about the UI. You would think, intuitively, you would click here (at the top of the screen). But you would be wrong!

It is ACTUALLY under the sidebar menu, called "Profile." And I'm not the only one to to complain about this. (To get back to your dashboard, by the way, you click on the cohost logo.)

Are there sideblogs?

Yes! Each sidepage (sideblog) has its OWN set of likes AND followed pages (blogs). This allows you to easily switch between multiple sets of dashboards. A lot of users use this to have a SFW dashboard and an adult content dashboard. But it works like tumblr, too. You can have a side page/dashboard for whatever you'd like. Maybe one of your pages is for programming. Maybe another is for photography. You switch between your pages by clicking the arrow next to your icon/username at the top of the screen. ("Ohhhhh.... THAT'S what that's for.")

What's the userbase on there like?

Mostly programmers. Trans people. Furry artists. Plural systems. Furry trans plural programmers. Certainly a lot of shitposters. The website is trans-run and, as such, has zero tolerance for TERFs. Everyone seems pretty friendly from what I can tell. And there's very much a culture of "follow someone randomly based on their vibes" that doesn't happen as much on tumblr. Tumblr is more like "I really like this TV show, I'm going to follow 40 blogs about just this interest." Because the cohost community is so much smaller, there is a lot less content overall, especially fandom content. You can't follow 40 fandom pages because your fandom tag has a total of 3 posts, all made by one person approximately a year ago (well. for me anyway).

Cohost, then, actually has much more in common with real-life socialization. You seek out people with interests that may be very different from your own, and to find a common interest is very exciting! Unlike tumblr, you are encouraged to tag as much as possible. This allows your posts to be seen, to find common interests. And, of course, don't forget to look in "#Welcome To Cohost" too! You may find some new friends there.

What file formats can I post in?

Currently, I am aware of basic image formats working (like jpeg, png) animated gifs, and mp3s. You currently cannot upload videos to cohost. I believe the reason is not related to server costs, but rather as a way to curb the uploading of copyrighted content.

How does cohost make money?

There are no ads, and yet, as far as I am aware, cohost is operating comfortably. There is, however, an entirely optional "cohost plus" that is $5 USD a month. Currently, there are a few perks, but not enough to convince me.

What if I think something about cohost should change?

Cohost has a forum where users can submit ideas for features and other users can discuss/upvote those ideas.

Here is a list of posts made for newcomers to read:

[aldryrththerainbowheart]

Through the fire and brimstone

Fandom: Berserk

Tags: Guts x reader, hurt/comfort, sprinkle of soft smut, dash of romance

Note: As I was writing SFW alphabet for Guts an idea came up to me while filling in one letter. It got so long that it deserved its own fic. I'm honestly surprised by the quality. This is the last thing I'll write for Berserk because I have dozens of other writing projects, as well as life outside of Tumblr. Consider this Aldryth's swan song to Guts.

By the way, I listened to this while writing this, if anyone's into that.

The last rays of the sun fell over Midland as the Black Swordsman settles for another sleepless night. With a handful of loyal companions in tow, including their healer. Said medic was rather displeased with the swordsman, for the man had thrown himself carelessly towards death yet again. Proof of that was countless new wounds marring his body. When he could walk no more, the group settled at the place he collapsed for the night.

One of the apostles was dead. You watched Guts skillet them with your own eyes. He stood over their corpse as he breathed raggedly, trying to modulate the aftereffects of his berserker armor. You knew he was badly injured, even with the armor in the way of your sight. You didn’t need it, your years of experience taught you many secrets of the human body, healthy or injured. However, you didn’t press for answers, knowing that the swordsman would only push you away. It truly got on your nerves sometimes and made you wonder why you traveled with him if he’s gonna push you away all the time. Especially since it was he who insisted you’ll join them in the first place.

Only when he could not stand on his feet anymore, you were allowed to work on him in relative peace. Propped up against a tree hidden from others a few feet away, half-conscious, half-awake, Guts resembled an autopsy examination rather than a person. Under your skilled hands, gashes closed, tendons joined back together and cells regenerated at rapid speed. Truth be told, your abilities could not be as successful were you not dabbled in magicks.

As you tend to him in silence, you noticed that his hands, laying limply over his thighs, were shaking. You looked up to search his face, desperately trying to mask the fear that settled over your heart. When he noticed you staring Guts croaked “I…I can’t stop them.” At that point, the knot in your stomach was tighter than a clenched fist. You knew his usual reaction to acts of sympathy…and yet. You took his trembling hands in yours and firmly hold them in place, as you pressed your forehead to his and gently prompted him to follow your breaths. Once he stopped shaking, you leaned away only for Guts to cage you in his arms, squeezing you painfully. You choked on your breath, trying to let enough air into your lungs but not to startle him into letting you go. You didn’t know what to do, whether to hug him back and whisper some words of encouragement or simply remain in his arms without moving. Understanding Guts was…difficult. He didn’t react to intimacy and kinship the way other people did, and the last thing you wanted was to startle him. He was like a cornered animal at times. Still, you need to do something. You squeezed him back with all your strength, letting a few more strings of healing magick seep into his skin if nothing more than to just comfort him. As you propped your chin on his shoulder, you whispered reverently in his ear.

“I’ll follow you through fire and brimstone. Whatever it is, we’re gonna get through this together.”

And you would. Together, you’ll stop this madness, no matter what it takes. You followed Guts for this reason, that and a secret part of you wanted to stay close to him, even if it would just so he lives another day.

There was a beat of silence after you said that. The next thing you know is a feeling of impossibly soft plush lips pressing desperately against yours. The hands that were tightly wrapped around you roamed your body, clutching feverishly as if to assure themselves all of your body parts stayed in place. For a moment you were so startled by the kiss, the warmth, and the softness. You allowed yourself thoughtlessly to go limp in his embrace and delve into the kiss. Tongue tentatively peeking out to touch his. Guts groaned helplessly as he pressed you on the moss-covered forest floor. Your hands ran over the expanse of corded muscle until they settled on his stomach, where you felt something warm and sticky against your fingertips.

His wounds have opened.

The moment it dawns on you, you tear your mouth away from his and try to push him away. Guts, displeased by the interruption, only lifts himself on his arms, unwilling to go any further. With guilt laced voice, you urge him to stop, else he gets more injured. He looks down at the reddening bandages and lets out a silent curse as you heal them once more.

He moved his face towards you once more, aiming for a kiss. You stopped him with a finger on his lips. “No strenuous exercise, or you’ll get even more hurt. I you know I-Ah...” Guts stopped your chiding with a light nip on your fingertip. Peering at you with dark glint in his eyes.

“I want you.” He whispered with a deep timbre in his voice, tugging at the neckline of your top and bending to kiss your neck. “Here. Now. I need you.”

I love you.

The thought moved through his mind, and Guts fought the instinct to drive it away. He didn’t say it alound, but he didn’t chase it down and squashed it, either.

“Guts, I…” Despite your nagging tone, you let your head roll to the side, giving him more room to nibble at your earlobe.

He was pushed away from your warmth once more. “I’m responsible for this party’s health Guts, I threaten your health for romp in the woods.”

Heet his head fall back against the tree bark.

“So…” Your fingers ran over his bandaged chest until they reached his breastbone and your eyes met his, “…we’ll have to be very careful.”

He can be gentle, he can be very gentle. Just let him hold you, hide inside your body for a while. Guts reached for you.

You held that hand against his solar and pushed him, gently but firmly, back against the bed of moss. “I'm the one who's going to be careful.”

“You dinna have to.” Guts protested as you crawled over him and settled on his lap, with your thighs caging him.

You pinned him down with your arms, “I'm going to do everything. And you must lie there and take it.”

There was nothing in the world that came less naturally to Guts than reclining on a cloud-soft moss bed and allowing someone else to do everything. Much less someone he'd come to treasure and protect.

But part of him liked the idea.

Liked it very, very much.

[muzanswaifu]

Ive seen a lot of people confuse me leaving for “people being mean to writers” or getting hate for the things i write of how i write them but its not

But Im not leaving just bc of the audience, i can handle some hate and honestly it was kinda fun from them bc ik that hate comes from jealousy and trolling

Im leaving because of other writers and my “friends”

Ik i said i would get into it and i really dont want to all that much bcuz im tired and just wanna be done with this but it feels wrong to leave under a false assumption and let people think their actions dont have consequences

Ive dealt with a lot from my peers on here, back talking, hating, straight up bullying, and i just cant anymore

I cant deal with drama irl AND on the internet, bcuz at the end of the day i can just delete everything on here and be done with it all so thats wat im gonna do

Tbh this has been building up for a while, i can only handle so much from “friends” and irl i cut people off pretty quick and on here should be no exception but ive fucked up and let people do watever too long and its bitten me in the ass

Yes ik im dramatic lol, ive gotten that a lot and a lot of people hate me for, a lot of people love me for it, its how i am and it keeps things interesting. I get it, i like to make a lot of call out posts. Y? Bc people deserve to be called out and idgaf ab appearances on here. If someone did something bad, im gonna call them out bc last i checked its my blog and i can do wat i want. If u wouldnt do it, thats fine, its ur decision, and this is mine

Yes, i dont post a lot, I. Am. Busy. I have work. I have school. I have a social life. I cant write smut all the time even tho i want to, and at the end of the day, its not my job to write smut all day so people can read it and move on. I like to interact with yall, its fun, i like to talk to a lot of different people on her since my irl friends arent really into anime. Apparently people think im a loser for that? Ok? Sorry i like to talk to people on the internet when im bored instead of producing smut all day for people to read, ig i shouldve remembered im only on here to provide content since i dont deserve to have some fun, my mistake

Requests? Requests r a generosity. So many of my requesters have been absolute angels with being patient in receiving their requests, happy to just see me writing or interacting at all. Others have hounded me regularly telling me im lazy and selfish for not completing my requests, saying im an asshole for not completing them over my own projects bc “they asked first”. LMAO, U WRITE IT THEN???? i dont owe anything to anyone, certainly not someone who comes here solely to read my fics, not even leaving any interaction or encouragement whatsoever, then leave.

The icing on the cake? The tip of the iceburg? Discord of all places. Im sorry some of u didnt enjoy my server, i really am. Ive never used discord before and me and the mods did the best we could and im sorry i couldnt be as attentive to it due to my busy schedule

Im sorry i couldnt get there in time to stop conflicts or just straight up call people out, and im sorry someone had to make another server since they didnt like how i was handling mine bc i didnt take their side in a fight that THEY WERE WRONG IN? But i tried to be nice, tried to defend her and nicely explain y she was she cant say anything they want in any situation bc people get hurt. but it didnt matter. Y? Bc apparently i cant tell people what they can and cant say…

And that made me realize something! Theyre right! Theyre absolutely right and im so stupid for not seeing it until now! I cant stop people from saying things to me. I cant stop people from talking shit ab me. I cant stop people from even saying things on my own blog and server! I just cant. Bcuz in the end, people r gonna say what they want and do what they want bc people dont wanna learn. They dont wanna talk. They dont wanna hear ab how what they do or say affects others. They just wanna do what the want when the want, and they wanna be allowed to, bc fuck everybody else. Everybody is the victim in their own story, and i deserve to be the victim in mine.

And what would a victim do in this situation?

Leave.

[yonpote]

sorry i dont have anyone to talk to this about lol so it's going in your inbox but i'm in my mid-20s and only now for the first time in my life have i changed my mind on rpf specifically because of phanfic. i'm a returning phannie but like.... the last time i watched them was all the way back in 2012. and was very ani-rpf then and have continued to be through the years. and i think in a lot of cases i maintain that position. but after falling back in love with dnp and the phandom and caving into the urge to read some phanfic knowing that dnp themselves encourage and respect it im kind of shocked to find it's actually a really beautiful, metatextual, interactive creative outlet. i think youve talked a bit about how phanfic isnt really rpf to you and i kind of agree, because dan and phil to me are like.... an idea, a mythology, a narrative, that theyre aware of and have built as well as being aware that we're aware of. like the idea of dan and phil has been constructed by them and their fans hand in hand for over a decade. and i find that phanfic itself is very aware of this and exists to expand upon those ideas. lol. yeah that's it sorry for this ramble. i just find it surprising that something could change my mind on that in this day and age but it's been a very cool experience.

hello welcome youve come to the right place for this yap because i COMPLETELY understand you. like genuinely i am not this attached to any other "rpf" content like this? ok i had an egobang phase but honestly arin and danny have grown to share a similar but not exact same connection as dnp BUT I DIGRESS

but yeah i think a lot of it is due to the contrastive relationships between the brand of Dan and Phil™, their separate individual brands Daniel Howell and AmazingPhil (particularly dan), the Phanon dnp, and the actual real people dan and phil. i always go back to the fanfiction segment of tatinof but its just such a perfect example of what i mean. like, the entire idea to have a fanfic scene was ofc the real people's idea, and they used tropes they would see in the phanon to convey the audience interactive story, but at the same time had to keep it at least Somewhat appropriate for the Brand™ at the time being very pre-teen and teen focused. honestly idk how much you've gone back and watched of what you missed, but i would suggest doing that not just cuz theres some incredible stuff from those eras, but also seeing the intersection of the brand, fanon, and real people and when they split apart. you see it a lot especially in gaming videos imo where theyre unscripted, and once they got more comfortable in the gaming channel roles the energy shifting away from Brand but never too far... until ofc now where what even is their brand anymore just Chaos and Queerness i guess

OH ALSO go read some old fic and compare to newer ones like its not just that writing styles changed or that dnp themselves have changed, but the like. energy and intent put into fic has changed. i would say in the past it was more exploratory, putting dnp in AU's and imagines, or exploring what Could have happened. whereas now, yes ofc there are au's and fic for the purpose of exploring a concept or world, but also its a lot more introspective. exploring the inner world a bit more. idk i just thijk dnp are funny lil guys and they accidentally created some freaky lil creatures in a lab somewhere...

[m0r1bund]

"Lore, where have you been?"

In hell, probably. I remade M0R1BUND.com.

“For the love of god, why?”

Short answer: to save time and money.

Long answer: Sharing art was getting burdensome. Neocities hosts static websites built with html, css, and javascript—which is awesome for its mission, to encourage people to create future-proof websites. But this also means that every page is created and maintained by hand. I handle every little link and file and bit of code, and if I want to do site-wide changes, I have to push those by hand, too. This takes time, and so does writing image descriptions and cross-posting art to other websites. It became normal for sharing art to eat up an entire day.

I later created Basedt.net in WordPress, so that I didn’t have to worry about managing link hierarchies, which was a big timewaster on my old webcomic. I liked working in WordPress well enough, and I knew I would benefit from being able to use PHP to manage the sheer amount of stuff that’s on M0R1BUND.com. I was also paying double for webhosting through two different services, when I really didn’t need to…. So… I knew it was inevitable that I would consolidate the two at some point. It was time.

I do really love Neocities and I’m sorry to let it go. I encourage anyone who wants to learn web design and create their own website to start there.

Anyway, that’s how I ended up in hell for 6 months.

“What’s changed?”

Most things. I’m most excited about the quality-of-life stuff, like being able to sort art by character/location/world, or being able to move between individual pieces instead of having to return to the gallery landing page. There are lots of things I want to add, but my soft deadline for this was the new year, so I focused on recreating M0R1BUND.com as it existed before… well… this.

I’ve also edited most of my writing. This site is old, and the art is even older, it felt good to give it some TLC.

There are still a few things missing from the new site:

The Woods and RANSOM. They aren’t really representative of Basedt or Mercasor anymore, and I was not a competent writer in 2018. If I re-share them, it will be in the distant future.  

Some of my Those Who Went Missing stuff. I haven’t been playing TWWM publicly, so this is lower priority right now. It will happen when it happens.  

Some twines. They haven’t adjusted to the new filepath format yet. Killswitch is here, though :)

If you need them urgently for some reason, I can share them with you? but that seems doubtful haha.

Links to pages on the old M0R1BUND.com are broken and will remain broken until I set up redirections to the new M0R1BUND.com. I have no idea how long that will take! … Hopefully not long, given the new semester is here.

And of course... If you see anything weird, tell me! I test as much as I can, but I only have access to so many devices. Break this website within an inch of its miserable life so that I can fix it.

“How’s Basedt going?”

It’s going. Recreating my website took precedence for the above reasons, but I’ve been working concurrently on it in my spare time. We move like a glacier into the new year. ETA: ???

[kedreeva]

hi Ked! hope the snakewatching is going well. I've been meaning to ask, because I know you've been writing fanfiction for quite a while: do you ever feel as though community engagement has trended down over the years? and if so, do you have any advice for fighting the feeling that you're wasting your time/energy for a silent audience that just consumes and moves on?

I think it has, but I think it hasn't. But I think our perspective on it has changed, vastly.

The thing is, fandom back in the day was just plain old smaller and more tightly-knit by necessity. Before the net was so big, spaces we could go were limited, mostly fan-controlled, often difficult to find, sometimes clunky to use if you were learning (waving at IRC, hello, I hate you still), and due to all of this were often just... smaller. You could know MOST of the people in a fandom space. You had some degree of genial relationship with readers because you talked to them. Archives outside of ff.net were common, curated spaces with amounts of fic that were relatively consumable in total, as in you could go to a fan-run archive, read every piece of fiction there, and then have to find a new one, which probably had at least some of the same fic on it. Even ff.net, a lot of the fandoms present in the early days it was just like. you had 20 fics, you had 100 fics, whatever the number was, and because the spaces were small and the population online was smaller than now, there just... weren't enough creators to constantly have access to new fic or art. I remember waiting for archives to update their collections because most of them you couldn't just add your work to yourself. And I remember that the best way to encourage that to happen faster was to go and get the creator worked up/excited about their thing again by talking to them about it.

Now, fandom is easily accessible. Now, there are platforms all over the place. If you don't like the section of fandom you're in, it's easy to find another, even within the same platform. Don't like this part of tumblr? Block some people and follow others. Don't like this discord server? leave and join a different one (or make one). Don't like twitter/instagram/tiktok/tumblr/livejournal/wattpad/pillowfort/whatever the fuck other platform? Try a different one!

I am grateful for this sprawl. I'm grateful for fandom being easy for everyone to access, for it being so much easier to find somewhere you can settle and have others who like things you like. I think everyone should have a home.

But that does mean sometimes fandom spreads thin. It does mean that instead of 100 creators, there could be a thousand. There could be two thousand. And instead of one place to find it all, there's a gabillion.

But... the amount of story and art a single human being is physically capable of finding and interacting with (reading, viewing, commenting on etc) hasn't gone up. I can only read at the pace I read at, same for anyone. The fandom I'm in has created AT LEAST 29,000 works in the last 11 months, on one platform (AO3). That's almost 90 fics a day for 11 months. And I know for a fact that not all of the stuff that's been written gets posted there, that's just the stuff I KNOW for SURE has been written since a specific date because I searched a character tag for a character that didn't exist before a certain date.

I don't know about you, but I'm not Readers Georg. I can't engage with every fic in a fandom anymore. I can't even engage with a tenth of the fic in fandom anymore just to purely read it, and by the time I'm done reading one, there's 7 more to take its place.

So, I don't think engagement has trended downward so much as I think it's spread out as fandom spreads out. I think it's more important now than it was before, to try to actively engage with creators, because of this. And I think it's important for creators to try to engage back, too. But I also know it's impossible to go back to how things were, and impossible to make a large fandom behave the way a small fandom did. I also also know that if you ever go into a small fandom, like a rarepair, you will almost certainly see an echo of the past with regards to engagement. I wrote a couple things for small fandoms more recently, and because they have far, far less fic available, they seemed to comment more on what was there. They engaged in community ways, going back and forth in comments instead of just "good job""thanks" the end. they have more time for it. A small enough fandom may go days or weeks without new fic, leaving them time to do those sorts of things, without the fear they're missing out on one of today's 90+ fics.

I can't offer any kind of quick fix, because I don't think it's necessarily broken. But I can say that you should always try to be the change you want to see. When you read something, leave the kind of comment you'd want to get. There's another fic around the corner, yes, but you can't read 90+ fics a day for 11 months straight. And neither can anyone else, and remembering that might put it into perspective.

If you want community, read the OTHER COMMENTS when you read stuff, and engage with the other readers; if anything, THAT is the major missing factor in this day... readers engaging each other over fan creations, rather than just creator-> consumer or consumer-> creator. The most fun i ever had writing on AO3 was when I was writing Siren's Song and readers started talking to each other in the comments about what would happen. A whole little community sprung up around readers talking to each other about what happened after one of my other fics ended. I think that's a missing element that often goes unspoken, and maybe that could help a lot if you feel like the audience is silent. Maybe they are. Maybe they don't know it's okay to talk to each other, too. Go into the audience and make some noise.

[romeulusroy]

Eve (Shiv Roy × Matsson!Reader)

Character/s: Shiv

Word Count: 1,262

Requested: may i have some shiv x fem!reader in these trying times? maybe meeting some younger, sarcastic chick who shiv thinks she can just dominate but then the tables turn ;) love ur succession writing btw! don’t listen to that anon, they could only wish that they could write as good as you &lt;3 - anon

Tag: @locke-writes

A/N: I took some creative liberties with this request, I hope you don't mind!! I try to make everything gender natural as well so its gn!reader instead :) Thank you for such kind words my love!! I really hope you like it!!! Feedback is always appreciated 💜💜💜

She couldn’t take her eyes off you. There was something about forbidden fruit that had always enticed her. Eve was right in bitting into that apple, in taking what she wanted when she saw it, she wanted to do the same to you. You looked radiant, everyone took notice. You were an intern, someone who ran coffee orders and took notes from meetings, to be seen but not heard, but tonight? Tonight you were something else entirely. Your finest attire hugging your body in all the right places. Your eyes bright, gleaming, knowing. You kissed your glass every so often, knowing how these kinds of events went, how handsy some of the guests could get with just a drop of alcohol in their system. Tonight they were supposed to be on their best behavior, but since when had you played by the rules? You were surrounded by some of the most powerful people in the country, in the world and yet all she could focus on was you. Someone was speaking to her, talking terms, but she couldn’t hear a word. Someone, an associate from Sweden, slipped their hand around your waist, whispering something in your ear, making you smirk. Jealousy overcame her. She was seeing red. You laughed. You looked up, matching her gaze. You patted their shoulder, excusing yourself, refilling you glass. You swept past her, your hands brushed, slowed just a moment to whisper: Du är den enda för mig, min älskade. You are the only one for me, my love. She didn’t have to understand it to make it make her blush. Her cheeks resembled apples, crimson glowing. 

 She undressed you with her eyes, you could feel it, and you leaned into it, giving her knowing looks over your glass of wine. You’re such a tease, you can already hear her whine. Yes, but you love it, you’d whisper in her ear, pushing her over the edge. Everyone suspected there was something going on, but not between you. You were an afterthought, the younger sibling, the intern to your brothers company, his wealth and fame. You were nothing. A plus one he brought to events. Only she could see that you were dangerous, a weapon of mass destruction. You were watchful, observant, holding on to secrets until it wasn’t necessary anymore. They all suspected it was Lukas, his brains, but you worked behind the scenes, giving him a little push, a bit of encouragement, when he needed it.. Between her and him. The calls, the texts, the shared smiles. If only they knew what you two got up to when no one was looking. Your brother was flirt, you’d give him that, but he was like that with everyone. He still wasn’t over Ebba, either, hung up on the past. Shiv was too good for him. Too smart, too precious, too cut throat. You could match her energy. You knew exactly what to say and how to say it to make her melt. 

The time she spent in Sweden, and you in the States, was limited. Anything more looked suspicious. Still, you made it work. Shiv had never felt like this with anyone, certainly not Nate or Tom. You were younger than her, sarcastic, funny, never letting anything get to you. Not when you were talked down to. Not when you were underestimated. Not when you were discarded. You knew better than that, than to be reactive. Everyone would get what was coming to them, every single one of them, even your brother. He could flirt all he wanted, but she was yours. You never wasted a moment together. Every second was crucial, important. You love was secret, but it did not mean it was small. No, it was powerful. Locked doors, locked eyes, discarded clothing, calling out one another's names. She thought you were docile, passive, but you proved her wrong every time. That was the act you put on. You played the part well, too well. Even your idiot brother believed it, wanting to set you up with Roman or Kendall, insisting you’d been alone for far too long. You only had eyes for one Roy. He’d even gone so far as to set you up with Oskar, a blind date you had no choice but to go along lest you let your secret get out. You’d excused yourself to the bathroom halfway through and left. Neither Lukas nor Oskar ever brought it up again, though you had a few choice words for your brother. Tror du verkligen att du kunde sätta upp mig med en gris och jag skulle inte märka det! After that, he never pushed the subject again. You’d later laugh about it with her one night in bed, the whole thing an embarrassing disaster. Jag vill aldrig vara med någon annan än dig. I never want to be with anyone but you. 

You found your way to the balcony, the cool air a welcomed feeling on your warm cheeks. Too many bodies in there, too many people, too much power. She drifts towards you, trapped in conversation, in Paradise. Somehow she escapes with smiles and nods, needing to be near you, to smell you, to hold you. She didn’t need a serpent in her ear telling her how precious you were, a gift, she could do that on her own. Was it dangerous? Of course, but importance never came without risk. Was it stupid? Probably. A lot was on the line with this deal. Everything she was was on the line. And yet, when she saw you standing there, nothing else mattered. It hadn’t been that long since you’d last seen one another. The getaway in Norway was full of all kinds of fun, but it wasn’t long lived. She needed to be close to you like she needed oxygen. Her arms found their way around you. She smelled sweet, warm, like vanilla. There were no lights on, just the glow of the apartment behind you. Back lit. You let your head fall to the side, her skin hot on your face. Jag har saknat dig. I’ve missed you. Her Swedish was getting better every time you saw her. I had no idea, you laugh, holding her hands. You could feel her roll her eyes, wondering why she ever put up with you, being reminded of her love for you seconds later when you bring her hands to your mouth missing her knuckles softly. 

Your brother was calling your name, his voice loud and feigning upset through the quiet. Something had happened. Something had set him off. Vi lämnar utan dig! He threatened. Your moment was gone. Torn apart yet again by reality. Shiv stepped back ,letting you go, not before you turned around and kissed her, desperate for her. She leaned into you, into the moment, feeling free. When you were done, you kissed her cheek, sliding the door shut behind you, cursing him in your mother tongue before leaving. You never looked back. You didn’t need to. Her face was flushed, left breathless, yearning, wanting more. Wishing thighs were different, wishing there wasn’t so much distance between you. Her phone buzzed, her expression lit up by the screen. A number without a name. No constant image either. Just a short message, eight words. Reading it over and over again, feeling giddy, like a teenager in love. She can’t hide the grin she wears from ear to ear, nor can she hide her excitement as a car down below honks twice. A final goodbye. I can’t wait to see you again.

[genericpuff]

I have a fandom I'm into where the world building and writing in general is kind of terrible, and I keep going "Maybe ill make a comic retelling" but then I remember I haven't even gotten my personal comic started and think about how much effort you put in to this retellkng and go "No. I actually don't want to do that."

hey, whatever you do decide to do, it'll keep you creating! Rekindled is a side project that's helped me heal through a personal project that I'm currently recovering from burnout on, I didn't really think too hard about doing it, I just went where my interests were and it's gone through a lot of evolution since then. Don't feel like anyone else's work existing should keep you from creating, that's not why other work exists and ultimately the only one stopping you from doing what inspires you (or what you're inspired by) is you (•̀ᴗ•́)و

That said (big edit ahead because I realized I had more things to say on this LOL), I think it also depends on what you're retelling and why. I feel the reason why LO is so ripe for retellings is because it, in and of itself, is a retelling. Whereas original stories that aren't based on any sort of pre-existing source material aren't really able to be 'retold' in that same way because they're telling exactly the story they intend to tell from the beginning, vs. LO which is poorly adapting original source material that pre-exists it by hundreds of years. Case in point, I wouldn't feel compelled at all to "redo" a comic like Let's Play or The Kiss Bet because neither of those are attempting to retell specific stories, they are the story and so to put them in any other form wouldn't be the The Kiss Bet or Let's Play anymore, thus defeating the point lmao In that regard, Rekindled isn't exactly LO, it's as much a retelling of LO as LO is a retelling of Greek myth. But because it does have that original source material that predates it, it makes people feel more compelled to retell it with the foundation that LO laid (with its vibrant bright colors and modern setting) but tweaking things to make them more accurate - or at least respectful - towards the original myths.

So I think you do have to ask yourself what it is you're attempting to re-interpret and what the goal is in doing so. Remember that it's all still fanfiction at the end of the day so don't be doing anything risky that might implicate yourself of copyright infringement lmao (do your own research and well-testing to see if it's something that would be worth it for you in the long run).

There are definitely times I'll encourage people to focus on their own projects rather than try to polish someone else's turd if it's in the pursuit of "fixing" things, art can and should be allowed to exist regardless of whether or not it's perfect and LO isn't an exception to that. I'm not gonna try and defend Rekindled as an exception to those times I'd suggest people to work on their own thing, I could - and should - be working on my personal original projects rather than what Rachel brought into the world. But that's also why I give it such an original spin because I also want to tell my own story, simply through the lens of recreating a comic that I loved for so many years and was retelling myths that I have a close connection to. All in all, that's why I tell people to take my experience and advice and rants with mountains of salt. I'm not a one-stop-shop for all-encompassing advice or guidance on what you should or shouldn't do. And my work definitely doesn't exist as a metric for what should be done by others lol Focus on you and your pursuits! <3

[minecraftbookshelf]

What’s the situation with hostile mobs in the marriage of the state AU? I assume the answer is different for night mobs and Illagers/witches, based on what you’ve mentioned before?

So, if nighttime mobs do exist, do they come from somewhere? Or do they just form out of death smoke like they do in the game? Slime is an important codland export, so are slimes different?

And Illagers are probably just another race right? Or is it more of a culture thing? Are villagers also a race distinct from humans? How do the codfolk/mythland interact with the swamp witches, who you mentioned before do exist?

Also this isn’t really related to the main question but I don’t want to make a separate ask; are gems antlers from elven or deer-hybrid ancestry? (Are elves just deer-hybrid fae?)

Wow that’s a lot of questions, your Worldbuilding is really good btw. (And your writing too)

It's low-key kind of scary how you you're batting...three for three? i think? on asking exactly the thing I really want to talk about XD

You would be correct, most of the night mobs are basically wildlife, if incredibly hostile wildlife. Creepers and spiders and such. (Though spiders are sometimes less hostile and more just, doin their own thing and mindin their own business.)

Skeletons and zombies are also not sentient (anymore) and are basically considered large, dangerous pests. Like if cockroaches were human sized and out to ruin your day, specifically. (I'm not sure of their exact origins yet, because I haven't quite decided how I'm adapting my base mcyt mythology for this au)

Spiders are just like real world small spiders as far as "where they come from". Creepers and Slimes are actually similar in origin, n that they are sort of a magical manifestation of an environment. They both kind of...grow? Out of the land. Slimes are a bit pickier about where they grow from.

Slimes can also be farmed (As in livestock, not in the minecraft sense) which they are in the Swamp, where they also grow at a higher rate. They can be fed algae to encourage them to grow, and then split to make smaller slimes, which can be grown in turn.

Creepers just...separate themselves from the land and wander around after dark. Unless they encounter something that causes them to explode. They're generally considered to have about equivalent intelligence of dogs, as far as anyone can tell, and don't seem to be sentient.

Illagers/Villagers are just human/human+. Villagers are usually interpreted as citizens of relevant empires (see, smajor's elves and ldshadowlady's...pastel fish people) while Illagers are a specific culture, mostly based out of the mountains. (This is mostly because I just associate them with mountains because that's where I somehow encounter most of the Pillager Towers I find while playing minecraft.) They are primarily nomadic but do have bases (said towers) and most of them consider the Crystal Cliffs to be their homeland, as much as they have one.

Witches are also humans/hybrids and its a set of abilities and skills and not a species. the Swamp Witches are a specific group who live deep in The Swamp and mainly are fairly isolated, through they do provide council and aid to the other Swamp Dwellers, particularly during the Occupied years, which was when they separated from the majority of the population and went into hiding, when they were targeted by the invaders. The other Swamp Dwellers tend to regard them with cautious respect.

There are also wandering witches, who tend to travel around and either help or harm (based off personal inclination) as they go. Pix is on decently good terms with about half of them, with the other half it is on sight. (Mostly on the part of the witches)

Most Witches do not exist on good terms with Mythland, even a few hundred years down the line. Tensions remain.

-

As for Gem's antlers...

:)

So elves are not deer hybrids (or owl hybrids) despite sharing a few physical traits. (and the fae of the Overgrown are not hybrids either, despite frequent resemblances to butterflies and/or cats)

The primary differences are instincts. Fae and fae adjacent people tend to have some physical traits of different animal species, but they aren't actually from the species if that makes any sense. They don't have the animalistic instincts and tendencies any more than they have the human ones, despite resemblances both ways.

Hybrids are actually human+, as I referred to them earlier in this post. All hybrid species started out as humans. They're ultimately the result of the environmental magic of the world (and sometimes meddling from gods and spirits and such). They will have some combination of physical traits and instincts from their additive animal species, to go along with their human ones. They will also have human lifespans and developmental cycles, with a few minor variations here and there.

(But Rain, you say, you made a whole post about Seafolk and their life cycles and development and how its different from humans? Yes because the Seafolk aren't entirely hybrids either. The Deep Oceans have their own variations of fae folk and there was much more intermarriage and cultural crossover there than on Land. But that's another post altogether.)

As for Gem in specific...All I'll say for now is that

A) There is some extant xenophobia against fae races in a lot of majority human kingdoms and half-elven and elvish-descendant individuals often struggle.

B) Gem insisted stoutly her entire childhood that her antlers are because she's a deer hybrid.

C) Deer hybrids have tails.

D) Gem does not have a tail.

[bluedalahorse]

August and Rousseau are functionally the same character: the serious version

On Thursday evening, at my fanfic co-author’s encouragement, I posted about August and Rousseau being functionally the same character. This post was meant to be tongue-in-cheek, but there’s always been a serious, liberal arts college analysis version of it lurking in my head. I decided to go ahead and share it because what is the point of rejoining tumblr if I can’t torture the world with my Young Royals meta? (Do we even call it meta anymore? I am Fandom Old.)

So anyway, I have now written too many words about how Rousseau the horse is a narrative shadow for August, and how horse tropes are used to communicate August’s character arc. My ~credentials~ are as follows: I’m currently doing a terminal degree in writing literature for children and teenagers, and I have re-read the Felicity Merriman American Girl Books more times than I can count. I was not a horse girl in childhood, despite my mother trying to get me to be one by buying me Breyers and an alarmingly technicolor Lisa Frank notebook with a horse on its cover. (For Not Being A Horse Girl reasons there may be some errors in equestrian terminology here, but I’m gonna do my best. I invite genuine Horse Girls to weigh in with their knowledge and insight.) I have more thoughts about August as a character than I know what to do with, to the point where those thoughts have in part inspired the critical thesis on justice and privilege in YA lit that I am going to write for my MFA. These thoughts here on tumblr are merely for a fannish intellectual experiment, however, so I will not be as aggressive with the MLA and the footnotes as I would be in thesis work.

While I am an American of Swedish descent who has celebrated her Scandinavian heritage since childhood, I am still very much an American and my native language is English. Most of my lit theory here is therefore informed by the Anglo-American Horse Girl tradition, which I know got imported to a lot of other countries in translation. At the same time, I am aware that there are Swedish Horse Girl books out there, and I do not know as much about where they overlap with the Anglo-American tropes and where they differ. If anyone has knowledge in this particular area, please feel free to chime in.

Before we begin, I feel it necessary to issue a few notes about content. The first and most obvious content note is that this meta deals with August’s character arc, so I will naturally mention his releasing of the video and his other toxic masculine behaviors that harm the people around him. I will also make reference to his drug addiction, mental health issues, and possible disordered eating. In addition, there will be discussion of abusive relationship dynamics and adults invading the privacy of teenagers with the goal of controlling their romantic, sexual, and reproductive futures (particularly in the context of a monarchy securing its lines of dynastic succession.) You have been warned.

TOPICS COVERED

Horses in Literature and their General Vibe

Cinematography and Film Language in Young Royals

August, Felice, and Sara

Bloodlines and the Line of Succession

What’s next for August and Rousseau?

Horse/Power

Horses have long been symbols of wealth, status, and nobility. While literature and folklore offer their fair share of ordinary workhorses, the prince on a fancy white horse is an iconic fairy tale image. Historically, the ability to maintain a stable full of horses, specifically bred for battle or fine riding, was (and still is) a privilege only the rich can afford. Among the Romans, the second highest ranked social group after the senatorial class were the equites, named for the fact that they were rich enough to own horses they could bring to war. Fast forwarding to the modern day Young Royals, we see the wealth of Hillerska on full display in the stables. Even Felice’s parents, who have plenty of money to burn, remind her how much they spent on Rousseau.

August, of course, defines himself by his status. When we first meet him, he’s always going on about his father’s estate, bragging about flying off to restaurants in France, separating out who is nouveau riche and who is ancien regime—and so on and so forth. So what? you may be saying. Plenty of Young Royals characters are wealthy and own land. Why single out August and make him the character shadowed by the horse, just because of his money? Probably because of the other ideas horses get associated with in popular media. Horses in fiction are often temperamental, but their humans often work to control and tame horses in spite of that. There’s a certain tension and troubledness to fictional horses that makes them dangerous. Rousseau is no exception to this—Felice and others have difficulty managing him. We know August has a temper that gets the better of him. We also know he’s obsessed with control, and the first person he tries to be strict and controlling with is himself.

To put it more briefly, horses in stories can be used to open up a lot of questions about wealth and power and how that power is, well, reined in. Thematically, having Rousseau as a shadow to August’s character arc is an obvious choice.

Framed by the Stable Doors

The cinematography of Young Royals visually links August and Rousseau from the very beginning of the series. As early on as episode 1.2, a shot of Sara taking Rousseau out for a trot is followed immediately by a shot of August out on a run. (Or maybe it happens in the opposite order? Help.) These moments mirror one another—both of them are scenes of a moment of discipline and exercise, underscored by tense background music. Throughout season 1, even when August and Rousseau aren’t paralleled by the editing, they are at least paralleled by the writing.

As we move into season 2, the shots of Rousseau become more constrained as the threat of prison looms over August’s head. Rousseau is almost always behind a fence or restricted by some other architectural features. The bars(?) of Rousseau’s stall door echo the bars of a jail cell, while the trailer belonging to the Worst Kind of Horse People (TM) suggests a police van taking August away after a future arrest. These scenes almost always include Sara somewhere, and she’s often having reaction faces. As others have noted, Sara doesn’t speak much, but these visual cues offer hints about her internal mental landscape while also foreshadowing her eventual role as the one who turns August over to law enforcement.

I’m inclined to read these “imprisoned horse” scenes as Sara having internal conflict about her relationship with August. On some level, she is attempting to grapple with the fact that they’re already doomed because of August’s prior actions with the video. I don’t necessarily think this means that Sara is always thinking these things consciously and in words. Maybe it’s just a sense of foreboding in the pit of her stomach. Instead of having Sara try to articulate this in any sort of literal way, my guess is that the YR production team wanted to convey this part of her arc through visual language and symbolism. I think it works, once you’ve decided to buy into the horse parallels.

Does this mean we’ve segued into talking about the girls now? Probably. Might as well gallop ahead…

Enter the Equestriennes

Even outside of Horse Girl books, women on horseback are a repeating motif in Western literature. As various academics will tell you, equestrian women occupy a complex and problematic (in the academic sense) space on the page. On one hand, riding horses confers status upon these women and gives them some freedom of movement. On the other hand, equestrian women are often being trained for the patriarchy in subtextual ways. One thesis I looked at explains how in Victorian literature, riding was often used to facilitate female characters’ interaction with men in ways that eventually lead to marriage. You also examine the common Horse Girl cliché of that one special teenage girl who knows how to calm down the impossible horse, and understand it as a little sister to the “I can fix him” romance genre. As bastion of literary analysis TVTropes points out, ponies and the Troubled But Cute Boyfriend sure do have a lot in common.

Young Royals knows the tropes, and it wants you to know that it knows them.

Felice Ehrencrona doesn’t want to be a horse girl. Felice’s mother wants her to ride, because riding is what archetypal rich girls from Hillerska do. Throughout season one, we see Felice struggling with her riding classes and being afraid of Rousseau. While she gains more confidence with the help of Sara, she never truly grows to love being around Rousseau (as we can see by the way she quickly abandons her hobby later.) Still, for a while, Felice maintains the public image of the happy equestrian by posting pictures of herself and Rousseau to her Instagram and making additional posts that say she’s in the stables when she isn’t. Felice’s mother, believing this to be true, is delighted—until in 1.3 it comes out that Sara has been riding Felice’s horse instead, and Felice’s positive relationship with Rousseau is just a facade.

What holds true for horses holds true for boys, too. Felice’s mother is constantly putting pressure on her about boys, specifically in the way she encourages Felice to pursue Wilhelm. The fact that Felice knows stuff about the line of succession and whose babies get what rank (something she explains to the beleaguered American Maddie) suggests that Mamma Ehrencrona isn’t just interested in Felice having a nice boyfriend, she’s actually bringing marriage and babies into it. Which… is a lot. It’s so “a lot” that Felice rebels against her mother at the end of 1.3 by hooking up with August.

Although Felice’s initial act is one of rebellion, she ends up trapped back in the same place she started from, where socioeconomic status and performative gendered nonsense is prized above all else. August, after all, is still from the nobility and still comes with all that baggage Felice is getting from her parents. Felice’s relationship with August is very bad, especially behind closed doors where he’s constantly questioning her about who she’s with and where she’s going. To Hillerska at large, however, they give off the impression of being the school power couple. During moments of characters scrolling there phones we can see that in addition to being seen together, they also included photos of themselves together on one another’s instagrams. This contrast between the image and the reality of Felice’s relationship with August echoes Felice’s selfies with Rousseau.

As for Sara… well, if you nodded along to what I said before about the special teenage girl who is the only one who can tame the troubled horse, you probably already know where I’m going with this. Sara and August’s relationship doesn’t really come out of nowhere. Rather, they’ve spent an entire season taking a step closer to one another, literally and figuratively, every few scenes. You know the cliché where the horse girl visits the troubled horse every day and gets a little bit closer each time until the horse finally trusts the girl enough to eat sugar cubes out of her hand? Yeah. Same rhythm/pacing as the Sara/August scenes, and it only gets more obvious in season 2. That scene where he’s having a panic attack and she calms him down? He is a scared horse. We’re all on the same page, right? I hope we’re all on the same page.

In some ways, it’s not a perfect analogy and doesn’t always match up in a one to one way. Most horse girl books stay wish fulfillment and there isn’t always a moment of “the horse is Bad Actually, and we will remind you that the horse released a sex video of the horse girl’s brother.” But I think the horse girl novel coding speaks to what makes a relationship with August appealing to Sara in the first place. Deep down Sara wants to be special and exceptional to someone else, and she feels she understands things about August (and how to keep his emotions regulated) that other people don’t. As Sara sees it, she’s taken time to build trust with August. It’s the two of them together against really difficult odds, and she’ll take the difficulty that comes with that.

Also, while we’re here, the first place August kisses Sara is the stables. And there’s that entire conversation Felice and Sara have when Sara comes back after having sex in 2.3. I’m just saying. It’s right there. We’re all doing the math, right? We all see it?

People Of Good Breeding

Here’s where it gets even more icky.

In season 2, Felice decides to quit riding. This makes keeping Rousseau a bad investment, so Felice plans to sell him, and Sara decides to tag along. When a particular family expresses interest in Rousseau and comes to Hillerska to assess him, Sara swiftly dubs them the Worst Kind of Horse People.

What makes the Worst Kind of Horse People so upsetting to Sara? They don’t know how to respond to Rousseau, and they don’t treat him with the compassion Sara does. They’re willing to endure Rousseau’s volatile moods, however, because of he’s a thoroughbred and has a prestigious pedigree.

Things I did not know before watching a documentary about it: apparently all the thoroughbreds that exist in the world now are descended from three historical stallions. They are inbred af. IRL people who own thoroughbred stallions now will charge ~$50,000 per insemination in like a horse breeding hookup situation. Which… what? What the literal fuck. I get that this is a hobby people feel very passionate about and find fulfillment in, so I am trying not to be judgmental… and also that is a lot of money (more than half my yearly salary) for just one instance of breeding horses. So I’m still wrapping my head around it.

It stands to reason that the Worst Kind of Horse People could want Rousseau for his, um, genetic material. Anyway, let’s talk about the monarchy and the line of succession.

At the same time that the Worst Kind of Horse People are expressing interest in Rousseau, the royal court has started to pay attention to August. According to the YR fictional family tree, August is next in line for the throne after Wilhelm. Kristina’s advisors have plans to groom (see what I did there) August as a backup heir if Wilhelm keeps insisting on having free will. (Really! The audacity! Good for Wilhelm, though, we’re all rooting for him.)

For August, the idea of being elevated to spare prince, or potentially even king one day, feels liberating. Based on how he’s acting at the shooting range after his visit to the palace, he sees a chance for himself to leave his crimes behind and not be caught in his guilt. But I want to pause for a moment and consider the scene in 2.4 where he gets the phone call from the palace. Jan-Olof asks August a series of privacy-invading questions, including ones that touch on his sexual history. The final question (and therefore the one the writers want you to notice) is simply “are you heterosexual?” to which August replies that he is.

There’s a tempting rabbit hole I could go down about what it means for August to go beyond just engaging in toxic heterosexual behavior, and actually embrace heterosexuality as a label, and because it’s a tempting rabbit hole I will save it for another meta. What I want to focus on here is how sinister this scene feels. Part of that is because we (and Sara) know how blatantly and easily August is lying, and that he’s slipping back into his old, status-loving, drug-abusing self. In light of the established Rousseau parallels, however, I can’t ignore the subtext that the royal court is interested in whether or not they can “domesticate” August just enough that they can get him to eventually marry the right girl and produce a legitimate heir to the throne. That’s it. Nothing more. They aren’t interested in helping him with his addiction or getting him into therapy for his disordered eating or helping him process his dad’s death—all of which would put him in a better emotional place, and maybe even prevent him from returning to the emotionally dangerous mindset he was in when he outed Wilhelm and Simon to the entire world. On a metaphorical level, the royal court is basically treating August as livestock. Which. Is gross, actually.

Now, don’t get me wrong. We all know that August himself perpetuates a lot of gross sexual behavior toward others. Aside from releasing the video, he’s selfish and borderline emotionally abusive toward Felice, especially about sex. He constantly eggs on his classmates to stand up on the breakfast table and brag about their “conquests.” He eventually becomes extremely sweet and tender with Sara, but that’s only after he’s tried to get her to sell him drugs, bullied her family about not being able to eat lunch on Parents’ Weekend, and kissing her without her consent in the stables. August is very much Not Someone Who Respects The Sexual And Reproductive Autonomy Of Others and yet! There is this whole entire system of hereditary monarchy behind him, aiming to control every aspect of his life and violate his privacy, and he is a teenager. It’s not okay that they do it to Wilhelm either. We know they’re trying to do it to Wilhelm even now, and we get the sense they did it to Erik too, given the lines about the OnlyFans girlfriend needing to be hushed up.

I think it’s easy to say, well, August is power hungry and amoral enough that he consents to having his privacy invaded, and he does, but I legitimately wonder if he knows what he’s getting into. (Case in point: I think August really believes that the palace crowd would let him publicly date Sara. And, no. Even if Sara weren’t Simon’s sister, I can’t imagine they’d be excited about him dating the neurodivergent daughter of an immigrant mother and a father with a shady drug past. At the very least they’d force Sara to sign some pretty hefty NDAs.) My point is, you can consent to something and still end up in a weird power dynamic that’s bad for you and doesn’t honor where your feelings are. You can be a person of privilege who harms others, while still being harmed by systems of privilege yourself. And that’s precisely part of what makes August a compelling and complicated character.

Look, I just wish more people nowadays had seen the legendary 1990s anime Revolutionary Girl Utena because they would then get what I mean when I say that August isn’t Akio, he’s Saionji.

…I’m off track. My point is that the reproductive subtext in that scene is deeply unsettling and August’s nakedness in front of the window only makes it moreso. Right. Moving on.

What’s Next? The Horse and His Boy

(Apologies for naming this last section after a problematic Narnia book.)

Man. I wish I could just write August off and clamor for his untimely and violent death without a care in the world. The reality is that I’m under a curse, and that curse makes me want to see him eventually sort his life out, one way or another.

Let me be clear about what that does and doesn’t mean: I don’t mean that I don’t want to see him face consequences for the very real crime he did. I don’t mean I think he should suddenly be perfect and woke. I don’t mean that he and Sara should get back together. I don’t mean I want to see everyone forgive him. I just mean I want August to honestly confront the truth of his life so far and go “you know what? I suck. I can do better. I’m not even sure how, and I’m gonna make mistakes along the way, but maybe I can suck less.” And maybe he takes one tiny step where you’re like, if he keeps taking steps like this, this kid could turn out okay by age 40. Maybe. I feel incredibly exposed even saying this, since I know August is so widely despised by so many people in fandom, and I know other people who are okay with letting him stay in the villain zone, but I also feel like if anyone can pull off this story, it’s Lisa Ambjörn. She gets nuance, and she gets young people their flaws and their family conflicts. If YR were a different show, with a different writer and a different morality underlying the stories it tells, I would feel differently. But I don’t, and I think Lisa can pull off a complex story like that. So here we are.

(For examples of YA novels that pull off this kind of narrative catharsis, check out the character arc of the protagonist Deposing Nathan by Zack Smedley. Or pay attention to the uncle’s character arc in Randy Ribay’s Patron Saints of Nothing.)

There’s a very soft acting choice of Malte’s in 2.3, where August goes to meet Sara in the stables, to ask if she wants to come by and talk later. Sara’s getting Rousseau settled for the evening, and August reaches out and pats Rousseau on the nose. If I’m remembering the scene correctly, the usually temperamental Rousseau is calm in response.

We’ve seen August act self-aggrandizing before so he can build himself up and threaten other people. We’ve also seen him engage in escalating acts of self-harm (via excessive exercising and calorie counting) when he isn’t living up to his own strict standards. What we don’t see a lot is him having compassion for himself. If we accept that Rousseau is August’s shadow-self, then this nose pat is a rare moment of self-compassion. It’s at this point in the season that August realizes he needs to exist in community with other people, and that he needs to actually process his overwhelming emotions instead of lashing out at others. He makes an effort to try and quit using drugs, genuinely connects with Sara, and even briefly defends Simon when Vincent gets on Simon’s case after the indoor rowing match. It’s a positive trajectory and a glimmer of what could have been. That lasts until his visit to the palace, when August is offered the position as Wilhlem’s backup and starts to go back to his old ways. Moreover, the pressure of becoming the spare creates new complications for August’s mental health, and he slides back into lashing out at others again.

At the end of the season, August views Rousseau as a commodity and buys him for Sara in a Grand Gesture (TM) that’s actually pretty alarming and could be categorized as love-bombing. Sara is not impressed (I suspect she’s witnessed Micke love-bombing Linda, and all her alarm bells are going off) and continues her trip to the bus stop so she can report him to the police.

I could talk about the police call and the part where Sara is playing with a small horse keychain at the bus stop, but that might be the topic for another meta. Instead I want to take a moment to think about the practical fact that August owns a horse now. This opens up a few questions: if Rousseau continues to be August’s shadow-self, what does it mean for August to buy and own Rousseau? Is August going to have to learn to take care of Rousseau now? How much farther can we extend this metaphor?

Patience, comrades. We’re almost to the finish line.

By buying Rousseau, August has allowed himself to be bought by the aristocratic power structure that’s been trying to maneuver him into royal life. He’s started to actually use the inheritance left for him by his father—not because he’s finally started to process his grief, but because he’s doubling down on the idea that he deserves his inherited wealth and that he can use it as lavishly as he wishes. What’s interesting is the way he thinks this makes him into someone Sara will stay in love with. There’s the quid pro quo of it all, which is the obvious surface reading, but there’s also another level wherein August has been raised to believe that this is the ideal of aristocratic masculinity, and therefore what Sara would be attracted to. He assumes Sara wants the prince (even if he has to be a little bit Machiavelli’s the Prince behind the scenes to play that role.) But Sara wants the trust and care and connection, and a bond that’s a little bit weird and unique and ultimately private. She also values honesty and accountability. Sara doesn’t want the prince—she wants the horse. But not the literal one. And not necessarily in a material ownership kind of way, either.

As we move into season 3, I find myself wondering what’s next for August and Rousseau. Like. August owns a horse now. Is he going to have to take care of it? Like is he going to have to learn how to groom Rousseau and muck stalls and such? I get that he’s rich and can probably pay someone to do that for him, but given the way that Rousseau is meant to be a commentary on August’s character arc, there’s a lot of narrative potential (and dare I say… humor?) in August just having to learn to take care of the horse his own damn self in season 3. I feel like it could allow for some great moments of introspection on August’s part, if done well, and could lead him to a place of radical acceptance. We don’t even have to rule out August going to jail for his crimes, but knowing that jail is not the kind of thing that will happen in the first five minutes of the first five episodes, why not facilitate some internal character growth via horse chores first?

Alternately, August will just keep doubling down on making someone else do the horse chores. This would be consistent, if nothing else. He may just continue to be horrible, in which case I am worried for Rousseau.

(Please, Lisa Ambjörn and/or god and/or Epona. I am so desperate for this as-of-present unrepentant fuckboy to have to do symbolic horse chores that end up being about him finally coming to terms with the impact his counterrevolutionary behavior has on others. Is that so wrong?)

Anyway, I guess we won’t know until season 3. Thank you for sticking around if you’ve read this far—it ended up being way longer than intended! I’m back on tumblr after being away since 2015 or so, so this post feels like a wild way to reappear. But I’m glad I shared my thoughts all the same. Have a blessed Saturday, fandom.

[cricket-reader]

hii!! love your writing its intoxicating!!! idk if you’ve seen the movie Easy A (if not DO IT!!! its on Netflix) but if you have i was thinking a fem (or gn if youre more comfortable with it) reader x bucky fic thats along that line where reader is like Olive and bucky is like Todd? maybe lots of angst/fluff/smut or whatever this prompt takes you. honestly anything as long as it has bucky comforting reader through whatever you choose? again if you havent seen then feel free to ignore this and thankya!!!

Easy A

Masterlist | A03 | Wattpad | Recommendations | Inbox | Taglist

Summary: after a truly awful date, you are comforted by Bucky. (High School AU)

Warnings: language, mentions of sex, non-con kissing (not Bucky), Brock Rumlow being a prick, fluff

Word Count: 3,470

A/N: Sorry it took so long. It took a while to find inspiration, but here it is! I hope this lives up to your expectations 💕💕

How could life get so messed up?

You find yourself asking this question a lot lately. It was a simple rumour. Something that you could should have stopped—no, prevented.

In fact, you could have prevented all of this. So in hindsight, this is all your fault.

That doesn’t mean, however, that you deserved this… right? Sure, some people probably definitely thought you did. What, being the campus whore? The virgin slut.

It was a simple white lie. But it grew into something so much bigger. Something you could never outlive. Rumours spread fast. Especially on a campus. Almost like the wildfires along the west coast.

Despite never having sex in your life or even having your first kiss, you were the sluttiest, dirtiest, whore out there.

Whilst all that isn’t true, you sure felt dirty. It seemed as though everyone believed the rumours. Sure, you had done nothing to dispute them. If anything, you only encouraged them. That was just you being stupid, you realise that now. Despite all of that, you wished that someone could look through the stupid lies. Because everyone had to be idiots to believe them.

Thinking back on it, this all could have been avoided. If you didn’t tell your former best friend that lie, none of this would have ever happened. It was the snowball effect, and it had grown out of proportion.

It only truly hit you in the face when Brock Rumlow tried to make a move on you.

You didn’t put it past him to believe that you were really a whore. He was quite daft. Regardless, when he asked you out, you had foolishly believed that he liked you for you; not for your fake self. He took you out to eat at the fairly nice seafood place in town and everything. You should have known that it wouldn’t end well.

It started off fine. You both made small talk and ordered drinks and food. Then you saw Bucky. He was the guy you had liked for a long time, not that anyone besides your old best friend knew that.

He was singing a cheesy happy birthday song with his colleagues. You giggled at the sight, not expecting such a serious guy to do something like that.

It all went downhill from there.

You panicked when you saw your former friend, Sharon Carter, sitting at a table across the room. You knew that Sharon has had her eyes on Brock Rumlow for a while—since first grade to be exact. It evaded your mind until you saw her. You knew then and there the mistake you had made.

Even if she was no longer your friend, you felt horrible. Sure, she hadn’t been too friendly to you after all the rumours and lies spiralled out of control, but you were better than this. Surely there was some sort of girl code about this kind of thing, right?

“Shit… shit, shit!” you mumbled.

“What’s wrong?” Brock asked, confused at your sudden change in demeanour.

“Sharon is over there!”

“So?”

You huffed. “She’s been in love with you since the first grade.”

“And?”

“She’s my best friend.”

“I thought you two weren’t speaking anymore.”

“We’re not, but that doesn’t mean that she’s not my best friend or that I should be out with you.”

Brock frowns. “Her and I don’t have anything in common.”

“And you and I do?” This was such a bad idea. That was the mantra playing on repeat in your mind. This was a horrible, terrible idea.

“Yeah.” His voice wavered, cracking a bit. You could see his brain scrambling to come up with anything.

“Like what?”

“Like… I hate Kae too.”

You rolled your eyes. Kaecilius. The man that hated you from day one—ever since one of his Zelots—what they called themselves—overheard you talking to Sharon in the bathroom. A religious self-centred prick that thought his ways were better than everyone else’s. Nobody’s liked him.

You scoffed, “If that’s our connection, I should just date the entire school.”

“Haven’t you?”

That right there. It should have been a warning to you. But you just shook your head, brushing it to the back of your mind to focus on something more important: getting out of there undetected.

Before even eating your food, you managed to convince Brock to leave. It wasn’t soon enough because Sharon saw you. Alone with Brock. On a date.

The betrayal on her face hit you like a punch to the stomach. What even was your life anymore?

You both rushed out of the restaurant. Tears were threatening to escape from your eyes, but you willed them away.

“I’m sorry about that,” you apologised, walking to the car. You opened the door to get in, but Brock shut it before it even got halfway open.

“Uh, I’ve got something for you.”

You tilted your head, hoping it was something romantic.

He flicked up an orange gift card. “Two hundred dollars to The Home Depot,” he said with a big smile on his face.

Your face crumpled in confusion before the realisation set in.

This wasn’t a date. No. Of course, it wasn’t. Not really. It was a way to get you to–

“Bam,” he said, all smug. As if he has done something.

“I didn’t realise this was a–“ Now the tears really were starting to form. You didn’t listen as he explained himself. You didn’t care enough to hear what he had to say. You didn’t care because once you finally thought someone had shown an interest in you, it blew up in your face. Hell, maybe you’ve deserved it. Going along with all these rumours. It was bound to bite you in the ass one way or another.

You took a breath, resolving yourself to all the age old question. “So what did we do on this date?”

“Whatever two hundred bucks gets me.”

And with that he leaned in, grabbing your chin to push his lips against yours.

Warning signs flared in your mind. Just what the hell did he think he was doing? You pushed him away. “That’s not really how it works,” you tried to explain.

He wasn’t hearing it. “It’s okay,” he muttered before closing the gap again. You hit his chest, trying to get him off of you.

“Stop!” you cried out, so fucking done with today. “I’m not really having sex with people for money. I’m saying I’m having sex, but I’m not having sex for money.”

You didn’t know what about your explanation was lost on him. How he could listen to that and still continue, maybe he just wasn’t listening in the first place.

He leaned in again, trying to reassure you. And yet again you pushed him away. “Stop! No, no! Stop!”

“What? Come on just relax, babe. It’s alright.”

It was as if he didn’t hear you the first million times you said it. It was as if you didn’t repeatedly push him away. Or maybe he was just dumb enough to continue pursuing you when you clearly didn’t want it.

Whatever the case was, you didn’t care.

So, yet again, you pushed him away. His back hit the car, and you walked away.

“Come on, this is bullshit! I paid you.”

You turned on your heel and flicked the card back at him. “Well now you didn’t.”

He yelled after you, upset that he didn’t get what he wanted. Tears began trickling down your face.

You heard your name being called out, a familiar, friendly voice. You turned around to see Bucky, white button down and all, walking towards you.

“Bucky… hi,” you couldn’t hide the way your voice wobbled even if you wanted to. You saw his fists clenched as he watched Brock’s car skirt away.

“Hey, you alright?”

“What? Oh, yeah, yeah, I’m… I’m fine.”

He frowned, not believing you for a second. The moment you walked in with Rumlow, he was angry. Be it jealousy or knowing you deserved so much better than that prick–probably both—he hated watching you two together. It was wrong.

“You sure?” Bucky frowned. He hated seeing you cry. Especially over some jerk that didn’t deserve you in the first place.

You sniffed, rubbing your nose. This day has been so awful. You just wanted to go to your warm bed, curl up and cry. If god took any liking to you, you wouldn’t wake to see the next day. But why would he after all you had allegedly done?

“I uh, just got off my shift. If you uh needed a ride home,” Bucky offered.

Despite the fact that you had just been harassed by a guy you foolishly thought you could trust, you put your trust in this one. You just hoped Bucky was better. You had no reason to be weary of his offer. He had been nothing but nice to you even when the rumours and lies began their torrent on your life.

“Really? You wouldn’t mind?”

“Nah, plus my ma would kick my ass if I left you here alone.” The corners of his eyes crinkled as he chuckled. It was adorable. “Or my sister, or Steve’s ma. Hell, even Steve would try to beat me up.”

Now that was an image. Tiny, little, asthmatic Steve trying to beat up bulky, tall, strong Bucky?

You giggled in spite of yourself. Bucky always seemed to know just what to say.

You both climbed into Bucky’s car before he took off. It was silent for the most part, letting you think back to everything that had happened today.

You watched Bucky as his hands gripped onto the steering wheel. His mouth was set in a heavy frown, and you could practically see the gears turning in his head.

“What’s up, Buck?” You tried your best to sound like Brock’s actions hadn’t bothered you as much as they had.

He sighed, glancing at you for all but a second. He rolled up to a red stoplight and used that moment to look you in the eye.

“He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

“Hmm? Oh, Brock? No, no, no. Not physically anyway.”

His eyes searched your face. He was clearly distraught. “I’m sorry.”

“What? Why?”

“I didn’t get out there soon enough, if I just got outta there sooner he wouldn’t have… and you wouldn’t have had to–”

“Light!” you nudged him.

“Right! Sorry.”

“And hey, it’s not your fault, Bucky.”

Bucky’s knuckles were white as snow. He was clenching his jaw so hard, you worried he might damage his teeth. “He wouldn’t listen to you. You said no. Multiple. Times.”

Your heart ached because you knew Bucky wasn’t going to let this go. Because he actually cared. His eyes stayed on the road, and you were surprised the asphalt didn’t spontaneously combust into flames with the ferocity behind his glare.

“But I got away, I’m okay.”

“And what if you didn’t, huh? What if I was too late? You deserve so much better, you hear me?”

You didn’t even realise he was staring right at you until you looked back at him. You were stopped at a stop sign. With no one behind you, he didn’t feel any need to keep driving.

His face morphed into pure horror as the tears began rolling down your face. You looked away from him again, to your lap this time.

“‘M sorry, doll. I didn’t mean to yell, I’m so sorry.”

You shook your head and laughed. What even was Bucky Barnes? And why the hell was he always so inherently good?

“Bucky,” you sniffed, “I’m not upset about you yelling. I’m… It’s just… you, you care? About me?”

His brows furrowed. “Well, of course I do. You’re a great person. Your sweet and smart—”

“Why are you doing this?”

“What?”

“Come on. You’ve heard the rumours, James. You aren’t living under a rock and you’re not stupid.”

“Exactly, so I’m not stupid enough to believe the lies being spread around. What I can’t seem to figure out, however, is how you got mixed up in all of this.”

“It’s a really long story.”

Bucky shrugs, “I’ve got nowhere to be.”

That is how you and Bucky ended up on top of a nearby cliff, sitting on the hood of Bucky’s car, eating snacks you got from a gas station. You told him most of the details to your unfortunate series of events that led to this moment. Bucky only stopping you every once in a while to ask questions or make threats to anyone that he claimed deserved it.

You felt like a huge weight had been lifted from your shoulders. The best part of it was, you actually thought that Bucky believed you. He held no judgement and was a total sweetheart the entire time—well, besides the times when he teased you. But even then it was all in good fun.

You shouldn’t have expected anything less from the guy that was a complete teddy bear once you peeled back his intimidating layers. He was a good man, through and through. Nothing and no one could take that away from him.

When you finished, you leaned back to look at the stars. “If I ran away and changed my name, would you come with me?”

He chuckled. “I don’t know if that’s the best course of action to take.”

“What else can I do, Bucky? You’ll be the only person that believes me!”

“Maybe I’m the only person that needs to.”

“Yeah, right. What if my supposed sex life gets passed around so that everyone knows about it. Employers? Schools? The government? I’ll be screwed!”

“Why would the government care?” he guffawed.

“I don’t know, okay! Stop laughing at me, you jerk! This is a serious crisis.”

“Okay, sorry! Sorry!”

“It’s hard to believe you’re sorry when you’re still laughing.”

He calmed down enough to stop his laughter. “Look, you and I both know this won’t go away overnight. You did dig yourself into a pretty deep hole. I don’t know how we’re going to fix it, we just will, okay?”

“Okay, and what’s in it for you?”

He hummed, taking his eyes off of the stars to look at you. “Well… I get to help you. Maybe I’d get to spend more time with you too.”

“And why would you want that?” You look down at him, surprised to find him staring back at you.

He shrugs before looking back at the sky. “You’re pretty cool.”

“Mhm, and did you make this assessment before or after all these rumours started?”

“Way before.” He looks back at you. “Maybe that night I wasn’t ready for my first kiss. The night you covered for me, and you didn’t get anything out of it. You just did it out of the goodness in your heart.”

“I… didn’t think you’d remember that…”

“Of course, I remember. I’m practically kicking myself right now for not actually kissing you.”

“Oh, yeah?”

He hummed his agreement. Your heart beat faster as his eyes dropped to your lips only momentarily. If you had blinked, you would’ve missed it.

He cleared his throat and got up. You followed after him, frowning as he took a deep sigh. “What’s wrong?”

He looked back at you, anguished. “Sorry, I didn’t mean… I’m trying to do this right, y’know. I don’t want to pressure you or anything and this is all wrong.”

“I’m not following,” you cut his ramblings short.

“I’ve… I’ve liked you for a long time… I just didn’t say anything because… well, as Steve put it, I’m too chicken shit.” He chuckled. “I should’ve done it sooner, I guess.”

You didn’t know how to respond. You were speechless. You wondered just how different your life would be if he had confessed sooner. The fact that he felt anything for you at all was… it was… you didn’t even know.

“God, this is the worst possible time to tell you. I’m such an idiot! I’m so sorry, just forget I said anything.”

“What… what if I like you too?”

Bucky froze. All of him hoped that would be your response. Truly. But he didn’t want to take advantage of you. You had just gotten done with what was probably the shitiest date of your life. You had been ostracised by everyone else. And he was the only one who held an olive branch to you. It wasn’t fair to you.

“I… I can’t… not in my right mind would I ever dream of taking advantage of you like this.”

Your face twisted. “Take advantage? Bucky, how can you take advantage of me if I like you back?”

He sighed. “You’re not thinking straight. I’m just the first guy who wasn’t a complete dickwad to you, so naturally you would like me.”

“Bucky, stop. I have liked you… for a lot longer than I care to admit. This isn’t me being desperate for any positive human connection. I genuinely like you.”

He bit his lip, looking so conflicted it hurt. You wanted to ease his worries. He shouldn’t feel that way. Not when you truly cared about him and have for a while. You’d like to think you deserved something good in your life. And if that good just so happened to be named Bucky? Well… who were you to deny it?

You advanced toward him, looking into those pale, stormy blue eyes. He said your name, a warning tone lying underneath every syllable.

“Tell me you don’t want this, and I won’t push any further,” you murmured. You were so close to him you could feel the heat from his furnace-like body. He stared into your eyes, thinking about how damn lucky he was to have such a beautiful view tonight.

“You sure you want this?” Bucky just had to ask. He needed to be sure. He didn’t even know what this was. It could be just a simple kiss, maybe a one-night stand, or, if he dared to hope, a relationship. Whatever it was, he would take it. He would be grateful for the chance to hold you, to kiss your lips and maybe more.

“Have I not made it clear enough yet?” You smirked at him. Bucky’s tongue wet his lips, a moment you traced with your eyes. He was gorgeous.

His hands cupped your face as he leaned in. You both closed your eyes as your lips met. You let him take the lead, not one hundred percent certain what you were doing.

Most people when looking back on their first kiss, regale about how horrible it was. How awkward it was and how terrible it panned out.

You were not most people.

It was easy to follow Bucky’s lead as his lips moved against yours. You hoped you were doing good with your first kiss. You hoped he liked it. Because you really liked being kissed by him.

When you broke apart for air, you opened your eyes to see him grinning like a love-sick fool. It was so endearing that you pulled him into another quick kiss.

“I never thought I’d get to do that,” Bucky murmured against your lips. They were still held in an impossibly adorable smirk that made your insides melt.

You knew right then and there, you wanted him to be your first. Your first everything. Your first kiss, your first real date (because you sure as hell weren’t counting the shitstorm from earlier as your first date), your first boyfriend, your first lover.

“I really like ya, doll. Maybe we should do this again sometime?”

“Yeah,” you breathed out, “maybe I can skip the awful date next time though.”

“Well, if you wouldn’t mind… next time you could have a nice date. With a pretty nice fella if I do say so myself. He can be a bit of a jerk sometimes, but he’ll treat ya right.”

You smirked. “‘S that so? Maybe I’ll just have to go on that date and see for myself.”

He smiled even wider. You didn’t think it was possible. “Really? Does that mean you’d wanna go on a date with me?”

“Yes, you buffoon. I thought you were supposed to be a lady’s man.”

“Hey now,” he chided, “weren’t we just having a conversation about how awful rumours could be?”

You chuckled with him as he pulled you into his arms. He pressed a gentle kiss into your hair.

“I think we should get back before my parents send out a search party.”

He laughed and agreed. Bucky drove you back to your house. Instead of curling up and crying in your bed, you ended up smiling like a lovesick fool until sleep overcame you.

Bucky Taglist: @harleycao @hallecarey1