#why do you need to pretend to be taller PV????

[asavt]

A little idea while I work on something else involving these two that hopefully I am able to get out soon.

[emo-firespirit]

purecacao is honestly so weird as a crk ship because it’s like. it’s fine, I guess, in theory. it’s cute, I suppose, if you wanted to make it work. the art people make of it is neat (sometimes). but the level of popularity it has as something a large collective of people have put time and effort into when pv and cacao have literally never been shown in canon speaking is indicative of a larger problem within the cr fandom. a problem which is that people can and will ignore women and wlw as hard as they physically can to ship two men who have never spoken together. and that’s not even mentioning the barrage of other issues present as to how people portray cacao and pv

it was just...bound to happen. pv is shorter, more feminine, and lighter (although he is not white). cacao is taller, black, and also much more masculine. do I even need to explain how fetishized a ship like this is gonna be become in the larger conscious fanon? not only is pv already sexualized to hell and back for being a gnc man as is, we also have to pile the way people hypersexualize cacao in relation to him and I’m so sick of tired of seeing purecacao art that does this kind of shit.

the cr fandom is already hideously racist enough as it is and also notorious for trying to pretend the devs don’t have a long history of the same issues, of villainizing their dark skinned characters, of rampant orientalism and just overall shittiness. I’ve seen so much stupidly disgusting art of these two on twitter and tumblr, where so many fans insistent on portraying cacao as domineering, almost aggressive and suave. you know who you are, people who only talk about cacao in hypersexualized terms and call him d/lf and act like pv is his personal toy. do you know who the fuck you’re talking about? mr. “I don’t know how to laugh”, the guy who would rather isolate himself than deal with his problems, the guy who has depression and literally lives off the principle that wanton destruction is dishonorable and a blasphemy to the cause to protect others?

(none of this is even taking into account the way people portray pure vanilla when they do whitewash him—it’s pretty obvious yall wanna indulge in some white savior fantasies when you do that)

if we’re going solely off theoretical ideas as to why the ancients would be compatible, hollyberry is a far more acceptable symbolic pair for cacao than pv is. she has kids, she suffers from the same flavor of moral hang ups as he does (she was also ensnared by the burdens of family and desired to escape such things, only to realize in the end that she needed to take up her mantle again and that she was overall worthy of doing so) and she also has like. A rivalry with a dragon? like c’mon, you can’t deny how funny it’d be for pitaya to whine to hb about how cacao refuses to engage with them and their dumb stupid dragon desires of being hit in the head by a really Large weapon. like he’s tired of dragons. if pitaya was a real threat he would have killed them already

that’s not even mentioning another reason why so many people ship purecacao besides what I already said here—so many of you hate white lily and have the most misogynistic takes on her character (insisting she’s abusive, manipulating pure vanilla, etc.), or just, like, refuse to engage with female characters in media because they get in the way of your precious yaoi mlm gay ships. like I’m sorry, she’s not evil, she’s a victim of circumstance at best and a morally grey person who killed a few headmasters at worst. cacao has arguably caused more harm to others than she has because he’s been letting his entire kingdom starve and has been neglecting those who have trusted him to protect them (but that’s a post for another day, but it’s not like cacao isn’t a deeply sympathetic character otherwise. it’d be untrue to say the story is not set on making him out to be a good person). you just want an excuse to demonize a female character for doing what the male characters have always been doing and you’re not being slick about it! (This is specifically aimed at the not insignificant number of people who want to or have tried to write white lily out of the story and give cacao her role. like, I’m sorry but none of the ancients hate white lily, pure vanilla doesn’t hate white lily and cacao sure as hell does not hate white lily. stop trying to pretend that this is the case)

(and yes, I’m aware cacao is black and white lily is. well, lol, white. my point here isn’t on how the fandom treats white lily vs how they treat cacao outside of shipping dynamics, it’s on how (mostly nonblack, mostly fujo) misogynistic weirdos will go out of their way to ignore her to fetishize the fuck out of cacao. just because cacao is being shipped with another man of color does not mean he is being treated well by the people doing so—don’t try to fucking argue that lmao, fetishization is not representation. there’s another conversation to be had on the status of ships with black characters in cr but that’s not what this post is about.)

it’s just. yall, I’m tired. I’m tired of this fandom and your consistent and persistent ignorance of wlw. im tired of y’all pretending women shouldn’t exist if you don’t like them, im tired of your racist bullshit and I’m tired of decent ideas like two old men being in love being twisted into something in furtherance of fetishizing mlm, black men, and feminine gnc men. im tired of how much you all hate women and refuse to make content for them or even acknowledge them as complex people worthy of the same introspective dissection and character depth as the fanon personalities you’ve made up in your minds for your favorite male characters. it’s pretty obvious why pv x cacao is the premiere ancient ship that involves two characters who haven’t talked to each as compared to, say, golden cheese x hollyberry, you know?

this isn’t a post on why I hate purecacao or think it’s a bad ship btw, because I know there’s gonna be people who will not read this entire thing and pretend like I hate the ship when I dont. I don’t want this to be seen as such, I just want to finally get this off my chest. I just want to finally get off my chest the feelings I have on the hideous amounts of racism and misogyny present in one of the most popular crk ships, which is only growing more and more popular with the recent update.

so like? if you ship purecacao, fine. more power to you. congrats. but maybe ask examine yourself (especially if you’re white and/or male aligned) how you are most likely being influenced to produce subtly racist content, and how your discussion (or lack thereof) of the women in cr is most likely indicative of the fact you have misogyny to work out.

[wroteclassicaly]

Motion (Chapter One teaser of my new Jim Mason x Reader series)

A/N: I'm feeling this. And most of this shit has happened to me at a point in my life, so I figured it was realistic enough to add into this. This is intense, so I'll have warnings up. Lemme know if you like it? Love y'all!

Pairing: Jim Mason x Female Reader

Warnings: Self-esteem bashing, low self-esteem, weight mentions, reader is taunted.

It's always the same for you. Your mother dragging you out with her sister to some new designer shop in PV. The lifestyle she'd grown accustomed to by the marriage to your new Stepfather - you didn't care for it. Sure it was cool to have nice things, not struggle for shelter or food, to be able to grab an iced coffee everyday, but you missed how things were before, when it was your entire family. Hell, you even missed it being just you and your mom.

But she deserved her happiness, regardless of your opinion on the place she followed her husband to, forming a new life, a new foundation to pave over the already shaky one that still had cracks forming everyday. You acted dutiful, smiled, pretended you weren't the fucked up daughter on numerous anxiety medications, who loved curling up with a good book over parties and having sex. It's not like you didn't long for those things, it's just that you didn't care about them as much as kids your age seemed to. Here in this fancy town? You notice more and more of the social life you find yourself incapable of having.

School was a disaster, the attention focused on the new kid. How very cliche. No one swarmed you, no one welcomed you, so you decided you'd be okay on your own. Make things work for your mom, right? Your mom's husband had flown your aunt and uncle out, causing a planned party to occur.

Another excuse to boast and brag around here, in your opinion. You listen to them gabbing on behind you, ushering you to the dress rack for a party ensemble. You hated dresses, hated how you needed to be fit in almost every store your mom now shopped in. The sneers, the sweating, listening to your Stepdad ask why the clothes are more expensive than normal, your mom explaining that more material is more money. Fighting the squeeze that threatens to start inside your chest, you push forward towards the gleaming rack, pretending to care about the bigger sizes that are still too delicate for you.

You aren't aware of the group of girls that are rushing past the perfume counter, close to you, that is until you collide into one of them, sending her purchases to the floor. Humiliation colors your entire face, stinging your neck to your ears. You scramble to get it, your jeans straining against your stomach, causing the zipper to press down. By the time you're standing and handing her the bag back, her friends are giggling, cupping their mouths and bending back to whisper things they think you can't hear. The dark haired girl shoves the bag in a backwards motion, to a much taller figure you hadn't seen approach.

You feel the air leave your windpipes, a whistling charging the saliva that pools in your mouth. You're sure you can't be more flustered than in this moment. The boy has dark hair, blond scattered through, baked like honey. His eyes are so glassy, alert and the sweetest shade of blue, green playing near the surface in surrounds. He wears black sneakers, form fitting blue jeans, a band t-shirt, with a slightly worn jean jacket. He holds the most gentle look you've ever laid eyes on.

You're standing, hoping you're not gaping like some asshole in a porno.

Bad reference, dumbass.

The leader of the group is smirking, handing the bag to the boy. "Hold this please, Jim."

Jim. It fits, it does. Does he go by Jimmy or J? Is he James?

When you return from your inner monologue to scramble an apology, the girl just shrugs you off, a sickly sweet smile turning your stomach and leaving your legs to feel like anchors.

"Piece of advice? Take a more easy aisle to walk down? That way shit like this doesn't happen and embarrass us both."

You're so stunned that the burn of tears comes before you can fight it off. The boy starts to interject, but the girl moves away, snatching her bag back, looking down at your pants and giggling. You are frozen, the cream colored cement floors just a blur. And then there's a deep and kind voice that brings you out of it. Jim is offering you his jacket.

You think it's comical, fearing a trick. You can't wear that. What the fuck is this?

"My jeans do that too. So do my sister's. And then our mom gets fucking annoyed. Why don't you tie this around your waist, okay?"

You find your voice, wet and shocked. "But you don't even know me. I don't know you. How will I give this back?"

Like he wants it back after your fat ass wears it.

"You go to PV Hellschool too, right? Newest addition to the shithole. I've seen you around. Why don't you give it to me then, okay? It always smells like saltwater, so I think it could use a bit of that perfume you're wearing to freshen it up."

Your jaw is unhinged, you're sure. You can't do anything but nod. He's seen you? He smells your perfume your new dad's family criticizes for being too cheap? Jim is smiling so passionately, holding the coat out with his bright eyes.

You take it with ease, hearing an annoyed call of the girl that he must belong to - in the background.

"Better get going. I'm Jim, by the way." As you take the coat, he grips your fingers, both of you swallowing harshly. Your heartbeat is in your throat.

"I'm Y/N. Thank you, so much for this. You didn't have to."

"No, but I wanted to. I'll see you soon, Y/N. Take care of it for me. That jacket has seen some shit in its day, so it'll appreciate the change of scenery."

He walks away, dragging the feeling his fingers leave across your own, that saltwater scent clinging to the cologne on his body, the detergent on his clothes. And he smiles, the most adorable grin you'll ever witness. You're still shaking, unmoving, lifting the denim to your nostrils and inhaling.

"Jim."