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whositmcwhatsit · 3 months

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Enjoyable Slide to Oblivion

Like a lot of girls, Chancy Crawford had once been able to call herself one of Elvis's girlfriends, but that was long time ago. Now, she called herself his friend, or his 'cousin' if any of his girlfriends asked. It was just easier that way. And their relationship was all about being comfortable and easy. Until she gets asked to come and join a tour that seems endless and cursed.

AN: I'm not sure if anyone remembers I used to write silly stories, but here's the next installment of one I have neglected for too long. Thank you to everyone who continued to patiently message and let me know how much they liked the characters and very politely ask for the next chapter.

Thanks to @thatbanditqueen for injuring herself in order to give me motivation. And reading to check that I still remembered how to type words. You might need to remind yourself what happened before: Chapter 11 Chapter 12- Move Across the night sky, with those anonymous lights.

Pulling up to the gate of one of Elvis’ homes always invoked a strange combination of emotions in Chancy no matter how often she visited. Maybe it was the fact that there was always, always, at least a few people standing around ogling her curiously, but there was also the insecurity that this might be the time that the gates would not open for her, and the pride she felt at how much he had achieved, as well as an undeserved sense of personal achievement that she knew someone who had so much. That last one always made her feel guilty.

Harold kept her waiting, pretending that he needed to come to the window of her Chevrolet to see who she was and then saying he would have to call up to the house to check it was okay.

“Can’t be letting in just anyone, you know.” He went to the gatehouse and the gate began to open immediately. She smiled and pretended to be amused by his trick as she rolled past.

Chancy pulled up around the back near to the fence where the staff parked. Her car fit in better there than next to the limo and the Lincolns and the cadillacs. She glanced in the rear view mirror and checked her make-up hadn’t slid off her face in the humidity. Her air conditioning was busted, again- it only ever seemed to happen in the summer, a cosmic joke or a punishment.

Grabbing her two small, yellow travel cases, she swung the door shut with her hip and sighed, trying to force her heart to slow down by denying it oxygen. Just a visit, just a visit, she focused on the words and willed her heart to follow their rhythm.

“Well, hello there, Chancy.” She started and dropped one of her cases as Mr Presley approached her from the office, a smile on his plump face. He had that end of the day twinkle in his eye and Chancy mused how, between his twinkle and Mrs Presley’s dancing glow in her brown eyes when she was laughing, it was no wonder Elvis could incapacitate people with just a glance.

“Hi, Sir, it’s good to see you again!” She went to grab her fallen luggage, but Vernon reached it first and picked it up, adjusting his grip and miming like the case was heavy.

“My Lord, what do you have in here?!”

“Well, you know now a girl can’t give away the secrets needed to make her presentable, it’d spoil the magic, wouldn’t it?”

“I guess it would,” he agreed, still smiling slightly. “Though I reckon I need some magic to help this ole mug.”

“Nonsense! I was just about to ask you for your secret!”

Chancy could do this all day. In fact, she did do this all day; most of her job was buttering up clients and making them feel good about themselves. The fact that there was a slight ache to her cheeks as she smiled now was proof of how hard she worked.

“Well, you always were a sweet girl,” he returned, glancing over his shoulder at the house and tightening his lips. “Let me walk you in, I know Elvis is expecting you.” He reached out for her other case and she let him take it, puzzled since Vernon didn’t usually go out of his way to be helpful or even really acknowledge her much past a short, pleasant greeting.

On the way, they made small talk about the weather, which was the law in civilised society. One of them remarking on the heat, the other saying that it had to break soon. Debating whether it was hotter or cooler than previous years and then exchanging stories of the most extreme heat they had ever encountered. He told her about a time when he was a young man down in Mississippi and he was doing some work for a man who wore a hairpiece. The day got so hot that the glue melted and the hair started slipping when he spoke. No one was brave enough to tell him and lose the job. He mimed the man’s hair flying back and forth and how they had to all fight to keep their eyes from flicking from side to side with it. His laughter at his own story was infectious.

As they came in through the back door, he paused in the dim back hallway. Somewhere nearby she could hear a football game being played on television and men’s voices rising and falling as they questioned plays and commiserated.

“You know, it sure is good to see you, Chancy. Elvis’ mother always used to speak so highly of you and how well you took care of him.” He left the rest unspoken, looking behind him to the stairs to the basement, and then turning back and nodding at her.

“Thank you, Mr Presley,” she smiled, a little puzzled. She awkwardly fished back her cases and wondered if he was working up to something, and if she should wait.

Instead, he opened the door to the kitchen and motioned her in, wishing her a good night.

In the kitchen, Elvis’ aunt Delta was complaining about trying to buy something and how they had raised the price when she gave them the delivery address.

“Shouldn’t matter if it’s Tom, Dick or Elvis, if it’s fifty dollars it should stay fifty damn dollars. The nerve of people!” Her little dog was yipping and bouncing around her feet, excited by the heightened emotion in her voice. Mary, Elvis’ cook, her coat on like she had been trying to leave for some time, agreed with her, nodding her head wholeheartedly.

They both turned to look at Chancy as she paused by the counter with a faint smile of anticipation. It was always a roll of the dice which side of Delta you would get, but that evening was a good day, because they exchanged greetings and Chancy was invited into the story of the new chair that had started out as fifty dollars and became one hundred once it was destined for Graceland.

“One hundred dollars, my ass! I said, it’s for me, not Elvis and we both of us have enough sense not to waste another fifty dollars on some piece of-”

The phone rang on the wall by where Delta was sitting at the breakfast bar and she snatched it up, listened for a minute, and then nodded to her.

“Elvis said to go ahead and go on up.”

Chancy had to temper her speed as she moved through the kitchen, heading towards the back stairs.

“I’m sorry you didn’t get your chair,” she shrugged, stepping onto the first tread.

“Oh honey, I got the chair, and a little table to boot. Soon’s I told ‘em that I’d go home and say what a rat-infested flea-ridden store they had and how we ain’t never gonna shop there again, we got the friends and family discount too.”

“Well, they’ll know better than to mess with you next time, Mrs Biggs. I might need to get some tips from you for when I have to negotiate with my suppliers.”

As she was climbing the stairs, she heard Delta say:

“Honey, I don’t think you need any help from anybody trying to get anything.”

Her foot momentarily faltered as her body wanted her to stop and march back down, but her brain won out just barely and forced her to continue her climb. By the time she had opened and closed all the doors that marked her journey, she was pretty sure she had knocked her case into her left shin enough times to leave a bruise, and she paused just inside Elvis’ office to run a finger under each eye to catch the slowly dripping mascara. She tapped on the door and waited to hear a low murmur of assent before she pushed the slightly ajar door open.

Elvis was sitting on his enormous bed with the newspaper laid out before him, apparently deeply engrossed in it, though she knew he had to have been watching the monitors at least a couple of minutes ago to know that she had arrived.

“Oh no! I think there’s been some mistake!” she lisped in a high voice. “The man at the reception desk said that this was my room.” She whirled around, wide-eyed, in the doorway. “This is room 385631.6 and half, right?”

Elvis smirked, his lips and cheekbones all curves as his eyes narrowed. His voice was a little thick like his tongue was still waking up.

“Damn, they must’ve double booked the rooms again, and, you know, I heard the clerk say that they were full up, no vacancies.” He clenched his jaw and shook his head like he was genuinely upset and disappointed in the ‘hotel’.

“Right,” she responded. “I guess that’ll be because of the convention?”

He nodded, rising slowly and stepping closer to her, his fingertips tickling her wrist.

“Uh huh, right, the, uh, One-eyed Albino Python Lovers of America convention,” he nodded, turning away as he almost broke.

“Oh, yeah, that’s a popular one,” she murmured, hearing him snort over his shoulder, and fighting to keep her face straight.

“Well,” he sighed with a sense of inevitability, turning back to her. “I guess there’s only one thing for it.” He shrugged with his whole body, throwing up his arms. “We’ll just have to share the room.”

“That seems like that’s all there is to it,” she agreed in her ditsy high voice.

“You sure your boyfriend won’t mind, uh, Miss…?”

“Tallulah-Wanda, and I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“You don’t, huh. Well, I guess I’m just fixing problems all over the place tonight.” He pulled her into a clinch worthy of one of his movies, dipping her down so that she dropped her cases and grabbed his shoulders for safety. They broke apart and smiled breathlessly at each other for a minute.

“One-eyed Albino Python Lovers,” she muttered, slapping his shoulder. He smirked and pulled her back up.

“What? I’m telling ya, Tallulah baby, it’s a real group.”

“Uh huh, and I bet you’ve met quite a few members.”

“I meet a lot of people,” he replied evasively. He grabbed her jaw and kissed her hard on the mouth. “How was your day?”

She paused, surprised by the question. “Uh, it was fine, thank you for asking. How was yours?”

“Honey, I woke up less than two hours ago,” he pointed out, with a wry lift of his eyebrow.

“Right, right, I’m in the Elvis time zone now. Gotta adjust my clock accordingly. How was your breakfast?” He rolled his eyes and tugged her towards him, cradling the back of her head as he kissed her.

“That’s enough of that,” he murmured, though he didn’t elaborate on what ‘that’ was, just steered her around and nudged her backwards towards the bed. “Gotta unwrap my present here.” He tugged on her pale pink pussycat bow, teasing the ends out from where they were tucked into her low scooped waistcoat and pulling the loose knot free.

“You want me to give you my scarf?” she murmured, keeping her voice low to hide how affected she was. “Hmm, that’s a twist.”

The corner of his mouth lifted slightly, but he seemed absorbed in his task, letting her silky scarf flutter off to the side as he studied her. She returned the favour, noting how fair his lashes looked in the daylight. His face was fuller, maybe because he hadn’t been well, but his colour was better than when she had last seen him at her house.

Biting his lip slightly, he unbuttoned her waistcoat, but there was nothing seductive or gentle about his movements. She genuinely felt like a gift given to an overexcited six year old. The waistcoat went in the other direction to her scarf, quickly followed by her heels.

“I’ll show you where your things are,” he said, pulling away and holding out a hand. She had to tamp down a smile as she let him lead her, padding behind him in her stockinged feet.

That morning, she had deliberately dressed up in her most businesslike outfit, stopping just short of wearing pants, because she knew he wouldn’t like it. Not to antagonise him exactly, but there had definitely been something pointed in her choice. Some barbed reminder that she was a whole person with a successful, fulfilling life that went on out of his sight line. She wasn’t one of the no doubt many girls around the country just waiting for his call, their life outside of him just filler that happened between their time with him.

In the ‘guest’ dressing room off his office, he showed her the row of plastic covered outfits that he had bought her on tour as if they had been there ever since he returned and not, as was more likely, hastily moved in that day after the last girl had left.

“You don’t like what I’m wearing?” she asked as he hovered in the doorway. He shifted uncomfortably and opened his mouth, clearly still formulating his reply. “I’m teasing you. Go on now, let me change.”

“Oughta tan your hide,” he muttered, giving her a sideways look as he retreated from the door. “Don’t change your hair.”

“Saying please don’t hurt you know!” she called out the door.

“I know!” he hollered back from presumably the bedroom.

In the small dusky pink dressing room, Chancy deliberately did not touch any drawers, no matter how painfully her curiosity niggled at her. She tried to be as dispassionate as she would be in a communal dressing room, which, essentially, it was. She made sure not to make a mess and folded her own clothes neatly, putting them back into her case.

There were a few toiletries sitting on top of the dressing table and she leant over them in order to apply more make up to her eyes, appreciating the good lighting. When she had finished, she checked that she had not left a trace and came back out into the office.

Elvis was sat at his desk with Joe standing over him and murmuring into his ear, his arms spanning the desk and the back of Elvis’ chair. His broad back blocked Elvis from her view. The body language could not have been clearer.

Without stopping, she tiptoed past them towards the bedroom, still holding her bags.

“Hey, what are you doing?” Elvis snapped over the top of Joe’s low mumbling. Chancy glanced over her shoulder almost guiltily.

“Going in there? I got changed like you said.” Elvis visibly relaxed, his face smoothing and shoulders dropping.

“I thought you were ducking out on me. What you got your bags there for?”

“I didn’t want to leave all my things lying about. I’m trying to change my messy ways, you know.” He shook his head and waved his hand back towards the dressing room.

“No, go ahead and put everything in there, honey, that’s yours.” She hesitated, but Joe had already resumed his whispering and Elvis was frowning at the console of his desk with its screen and knobs and switches. So, she tucked her cases inside the door of the dressing room and speed-walked past them back into the bedroom.

The curtains were closed and, though the lamps were lit, the room still felt dark to Chancy. This was not helped by the enormous bed that was clad in black every way from the headboard to the bedcovers. She perched on it primly, her feet barely skimming the floor. She didn’t like that, being reminded that she was short. It made her feel like the room was patting her on the head somehow.

Instead, she pushed off the bed and scanned the shelves of the units, smiling a little at the framed photos of a blond little girl and running her finger over the ornaments, some of them clearly from fans.

There were a few records scattered around the record player, their labels a mess of scrawled handwriting that revealed them to be demos. And there were books, piles and piles of books with fuzzy, slightly scary titles like ‘The search for…’, ‘A Study of…’, ‘Explore the world of…’

One caught her eye, a small, slim volume with exotic gold patterns etched into the worn covers. She glanced up at the door before she opened it to the foreword. It was Sufi poetry translated from the original Persian. Chancy pressed her fingers to the pages in wonder, trying to make it fit into the already complex and contradictory picture of Elvis she held in her mind.

The man himself burst into the room, slamming the door shut behind him, but he stopped short when he saw her standing by the shelves as if he had forgotten she was in there. She could see him biting down and breathing hard, his nostrils flaring, like he was trying to change gears while still accelerating.

She didn’t say anything, looking back down at the book and reading the first poem silently to herself, giving him time to collect himself without being observed, to leave without feeling obligated or ask her to leave. She felt him as he drew close to her, his chest brushing her shoulder.

“It’s good, you should borrow it when I’m done,” he said quietly, calmly. She smiled as she took her hand away from the page and turned towards him.

“What’s it about?”

“I- I can’t exactly say,” he shrugged. “It makes me feel like words and ideas, even sermons and laws, they’re just getting in the way and confusing people, distracting them from the truth and the real essence of God, you know. I-I-I ain’t saying it right, but the guys in this book, they pull back the curtain, you know, and you feel like you’ve caught a glimpse of something, just for a moment, that’s greater and truer than anything else.”

Chancy tilted her head, letting that sink in.

“I do think I’d like to read it after you, thank you.” He leant past her and picked it up.

“Here, take it, honey. I can get another. Ignore the scribbling though, sometimes I just gotta work things out in my head. Try and get things straight, you know.”

“No, Elvis, I can’t, not if you’re enjoying it! I can wait until you’re done.”

“Baby, I want you to. Like I said, I can get another. And we can talk about it when you’re done reading it. I don’t- I don’t have no one I can discuss these things with. They all just get this damn pie-eyed look on their faces like ole Elvis’s gone nuts and they don’t know who to call to fix it.” He crossed his eyes and pulled a silly face while he pushed the book into her chest until she took hold of it.

“That’s dumb,” she murmured, cradling the book to her chest. “Everyone knows you already went crazy years ago.”

“Yeah, well whose fault was that,” he returned, gritting his teeth and pushing his forehead against hers, smushing the tip of her nose. She wrapped her arms around his waist and drew him closer, simultaneously loving and resenting the almost painful wave of relief that rolled over her as she nestled into his arms and felt his soft lips brush against hers. The big sigh he let out as he squeezed her in tighter at least let her know that she wasn’t alone in this comfort trap.

“I missed this silly little face,” he murmured, one hand gripping her jaw playfully but gently.

“Really? This one?” She crossed her eyes and scrunched up her nose, tightening her lips so that it looked like she had buck teeth.

In response, he wrapped one big hand over her face and put a little pressure into it, nudging her backwards. She went with it, trusting him not to have her tumbling on her butt down the stairs. The side of the bed pressed into the back of her legs and she grabbed him by the biceps to stop herself from falling backwards.

“You missed me too, right?” he almost whispered, leaning down to kiss her again. “Tell me you missed me, Cha Cha.”

Chancy heard her own voice as if it came from far away, muffled and almost whiny with longing.

“I missed you, Elvis.” She continued to kiss him even as he turned his head slightly. She could feel his cheek bunch beneath her lips as he smiled, enjoying her affection. “I missed you, I missed you.” She felt his faint stubble grazed against her lips as she let them trail down his cheek and under his jaw. He was bent slightly at the knees so that she could reach, rubbing his thumb around in little circles on her back. Her awareness narrowed to only those points of sensation, the thumb circles on her back, the tingle on her lips, the warmth down her front.

The phone started trilling. They both looked at it blankly for a second, before Elvis straightened and sighed, going to answer.

Whatever was being said on the other end of the line irritated Elvis, he mumbled one word answers until he slammed the receiver back onto the hook.

Without a word, he disappeared into his bathroom and left her yet again wandering around his room, running her fingers over his belongings and trying to pretend that she belonged there. She opened her new book at a random page and let her eyes trip across the words:

“That’s how you came here, like a star,

Without a name…”

She had no idea what it meant, but it sounded beautiful. She murmured it under her breath, finishing with a sharp inhale as Elvis stormed back out of his bathroom clad in a long leather coat, gloves and carrying a police flashlight.

“C’mon, we’re getting out of here.”

Billy was waiting at the bottom of the kitchen stairs, hands shoved into his jeans pockets. He grinned, reflecting Elvis’ smirk as they converged in the kitchen.

“They fell for it, huh?” Elvis remarked, knocking Billy’s shoulder with his knuckles.

“Uh huh, I told ‘em we’d meet ‘em on up ahead.” “Joe bitchin’ and whining about it, I bet,” Elvis remarked gleefully, heading towards the back door with Billy beside him. Chancy trailed them, wondering what the hell was going on.

The wall of wet heat hit as soon as they stepped outside and Chancy shook her head as she stared at Elvis’ broad back wrapped in black leather even as she was peeling tendrils of her hair away from her damp neck and face.

Elvis was too busy crowing over his ability to fool everyone to notice the temperature. He and Billy were joking and laughing about it as they passed the car port and continued on down towards the back gate near where Chancy had parked her car. On the road was a white Cadillac coupe with an old, black truck behind it.

Billy tossed some keys to Elvis, who was still laughing as he got into the truck, but Billy’s smile faded as he turned away and he looked at Chancy with something close to reproach. She couldn’t think why he would be mad with her or blame her when she had no idea what was going on. He was the one going along with whatever crazy plan Elvis had come up with.

“Is anyone going to tell me what’s going on?” she asked nobody in particular.

“Shh, we’re being sneaky!” Elvis whispered in an Elmer Fudd voice, leaning out the window. “C’mon, Cha Cha, get in!”

She looked to Billy again, hoping for something that made more sense, but he had already climbed into the Cadillac and the back gate was opening. Elvis beckoned her and she hurriedly circled the truck and jumped in.

As they pulled out into the narrow road that ran down the side of the church next door, Elvis accelerated slightly and gave the Cadillac in front a little nudge on the bumper, grinning so wide that his dimples made an appearance.

“Uh, shouldn’t you have your lights on?” Chancy asked, goosebumps of anticipation nonetheless breaking out over her arms as she caught his infectious excitement.

“Now that wouldn’t be very sneaky of little old us, would it.”

“Billy’s got his on.”

“Exactly!”

Ahead of them, Billy pulled out onto the highway and faintly they could hear a few people shouting. Elvis waited, engine idling with his lights off. Chancy watched him expectantly as he tapped his thumbs on the top of the steering wheel, humming quietly under his breath. He seemed to become aware of her eyes and glanced towards her, eyes narrow and cheekbones brimming with mirth.

“Being bad feels good, don’t it?”

“It might, if I knew what we were doing.” He didn’t reply, just flew out onto the highway, switching on his lights at the last minute and swerving around the oncoming traffic.

Eyes on the rear view mirror, he murmured, “I bet they’re shitting a brick right about now, man. Serves ‘em right, serves ‘em right. I tell you, boy…”

“So we’re not going to the recording studio?” Chancy asked, mainly to remind him that she was in the car too and he didn’t need to talk to himself.

“You catch on fast, don’t you,” he remarked, shooting her a sideways look. “Baby, what are you doing all the way over there?” He reached blindly across the bench seat and clamped a hand on her thigh, trying to drag her closer to him. She made a series of unladylike noises as she left behind half of the skin from the back of thighs on the warm leather.

“Where are we going then?” she inquired, once she was flush against him, her forearm resting on his thigh and her cheek stuck to his coat.

“Well…” He tailed off. “Where would you like to go?” She bit down on her lip as he made himself sound very magnanimous and not at all like he hadn’t thought his great escape plan all the way through.

“I haven’t had anything to eat since lunch,” she reasoned. “Maybe we could-” He took a sharp turn that almost sent her sprawling. “Or maybe we could not die, Elvis, how about that?!”

He snorted and glanced at her with his eyebrow quirked playfully. She swatted at him, because he knew exactly what to do to take the heat out of her irritation, leaving her with just the intellectual understanding that she should feel annoyed.

“Poor widdle Cha Cha, all moody and mad cos she’s hungry,” he murmured in that damn baby voice again. She was about to swat him a little harder when he did a double take out of his side window. “Hey, you know, I ran out of gas there one time.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, back when I was starting out. It was one of the first times it got really crazy, boy. The cops had to come out and everything. It was wild.”

“Uh huh, getting a ride in the back of a police car to the gas station is not something you ever forget. Especially after I got back and some girl called me your whore.”

Chancy watched his face as his brain worked overtime, recalling the little details that he usually airbrushed from the patter he gave his dates as he took them on a personal tour of his home town, like who else had been there.

“They called you a whore?” he echoed finally, focusing on the detail where he had no culpability. “I didn't know that.”

“Well, it wasn't something I would've wanted to repeat.”

It had been the first time she had been the victim of jealous, spiteful resentment, but not nearly the last. She shook her head like she could dislodge the echoes of embarrassment, hurt and outrage she had felt.

“Besides, you didn’t even remember I was there!” She smacked his leg and turned away slightly, playing at being mad.

“Honey, I did! I-I remember, I was just testing you!”

“Uh huh,” she murmured. “Well, I guess I passed.”

“With flying colours,” He hit her with a poorly aimed kiss on the ear as he steered the truck into a parking lot. Chancy glanced around and realised he had pulled into Dairy Queen.

“You do take me to the fanciest places,” she teased, already moving to climb out.

“Well, I only know of two ways to get you out of this mood you’re in,” he returned with irritating insight. “One’s food and the other… Well, we’re in public, honey, you know.” She felt so much better about the shiver she had to fight back when she saw that, despite the naughty look on his face, he had gone pink.

“You are terrible,” she informed him. “Hey, where are you going?” He paused as he pushed open his door.

“There’s only one way out,” he replied, looking bemused.

“You can’t go in there!” she exclaimed, then wanted to rewind time and roll her tongue back in, because the one way to guarantee Elvis would do something was to tell him that he couldn’t. “Baby, you don’t have any of the guys with you. It’s not safe.”

“It’s late, Cha Cha, I’m not letting you go in there by yourself,” he returned. Then, she witnessed the exact same expression of regret cover his face that must have shone from hers moments before. Because telling her that she wasn’t allowed to do something was like firing a starting pistol.

“It’s not exactly Times Square.”

“I don’t give a damn. Cha Cha, honey, you got all kinds of characters out there now, crazy sonsofbitches and losers strung out on all these fucking drugs they’re pushing on the streets. Baby- Baby, you don’t understand because you don’t know what it’s really like.” She bristled at the condescending tone and folded her arms over her grumbling stomach.

“Well, then it’s not safe for either of us.”

After ten minutes of silent sulking and hunger, they came to a compromise. Chancy would go in and order the food, and Elvis would park as close as possible with his gun ready just in case.

As silly as she knew all that was, Chancy still felt tingles of apprehension as she pulled on the metal bar and opened the door.

At that time of the evening, the place was full of teenagers hanging out and families grabbing a treat on the way home from the movies. None of them really spared her a look apart from a few pleasant smiles as she made her way to the counter.

Not long later, she was juggling a sack and two milkshakes and stopped to thank a man who had jumped up to hold the door for her. He smiled back, nodding at her chest rather than her face.

Turning towards the truck, she let out a little gasp as she saw a small knot of people standing by the driver’s door. Her heart hammering, she glanced towards the phone booth at the front of the parking lot, wondering if she would have to make a call to Graceland to get someone out to help.

As she drew closer, she saw that it was just an older couple and their children. As long as they made a getaway before they attracted any more attention they would be okay.

When she climbed in the cab, Elvis was signing a scrap of paper, what looked like a receipt, and he handed it over, ruffling the young son on the head. Chancy kept her head down so as not to attract notice. The only problem was that the family did not seem satisfied with the autograph and small talk and lingered, forcing Elvis to say that they had to leave. They even took a few steps forward as he backed out, like they were going to follow them on foot.

“Just can’t stay out of trouble for a minute, can you,” she remarked, handing him his milkshake.

“Well, you were gone so damn long,” he complained, spilling a little of the shake on his pants as he tried to negotiate the road. “Goddamn it! She quickly retrieved the paper cup before it was thrown, possibly at her. He was still swearing as he pulled into a rest area, the frosty drink slowly trickling into uncomfortable places.

Seeing his mood souring, she grabbed a napkin from the sack but hid it at her side.

“Don’t worry, I’ll get it,” she exclaimed brightly, ducking her head down towards his lap.

“Chancy, no!” His voice went impossibly high, breathless and panicked.

She burst out laughing, she couldn’t help it, and tossed the napkin at him as she collapsed against the back of the seat, gasping and giggling, wiping her eyes. She tried to get herself under control as he irritably wiped at his pants with the napkin, muttering under his breath, but every time she looked at him, all kitted out in his flashy badass outfit, she kept hearing his panicked protest like he was a sweet virgin being propositioned by an over amorous date.

“Don’t see what’s so goddamn funny,” he snapped. “My fucking pants are ruined.”

“I’m sorry,” she replied, her voice quivering very slightly as she bit on the inside of her cheek. “I…” She started laughing again and he smacked the steering wheel and started the engine, shaking his head. “No, baby, no, I’m sorry!” She lifted her milkshake and tipped it slightly as if she was going to dump the whole thing in her own lap. “Look, you give me the word and we’ll match. Want me to?”

A fast diesel truck rattling by startled her and she jerked slightly, causing a large drop to splat onto her bare leg.

“Damn, that’s cold!” she hissed. His eyes twinkled and a slow smile crept across his face. She realised that there was a very real possibility that he was about to knock the cup over her and almost resigned herself to it.

“You’re crazy, you know that,” he remarked, before very slowly and deliberately leaning down and licking the milkshake from her thigh. He punctuated that by opening his mouth and pretending to take a bite of her, his teeth leaving a faint imprint in her pale skin under the light of the cab. Holding her breath, Chancy now understood how fish felt drowning on dry land.

They ate their food at the rest stop without much chat. Elvis was still mad at her for laughing at him. It was always a sore point for him, and she sensed that he was embarrassed by his unfiltered reaction to the idea of her going down on him in public. He always loved to give off the impression that he was unflappable, that there was no boundary that he would not push and no impulse he would not indulge, but that wasn’t true. Not really.

Licking the salt from her fingers, she leant up and kissed his cheek as he chewed the last of his third burger. He didn’t reciprocate, but nor did he move away, just looked out the window at the shadowy brush. She stuffed the wrappers into the empty sack and slid a little closer to him, her bent knees knocking into his thigh.

Rising on her knees, she nudged her nose into the hair at his temple, pressing butterfly kisses into his skin, catching her lip on the arm of his sunglasses. His fingers tapped on the ledge of his open window, almost like she was keeping him from a more pressing appointment, and she wondered if his mood had sunk too low to be recovered. She started to draw back, but the firm line of his arm just behind her shoulders stopped her retreat.

She studied him, looking down from his turned cheek to where the tendon in his neck was just visible above his turned-up collar as he craned his head away from her. Almost tentatively, she pressed her lips against it, feeling his pulse pounding beneath the salty skin. She lapped at it with tiny kitten licks until he jerked away, trying to hide his smile.

Leaning forward, he started the engine and pulled back out onto the road, executing a neat u-turn so that they were heading north.

“Where are we going now?”

“Gotta get you back to the nuthouse before they send out the guys with straitjackets,” he replied, shooting her a sly grin.

“Uh huh, I’m sure it’d be me they were looking for,” she replied, settling herself down at his side. He just kept smiling, dropping his hand into her lap and entwining their fingers. That didn’t last long, because he had to keep twiddling the dial of the radio every time the deejay started talking.

“Wasn’t that George?” she asked, as he abruptly twisted the knob again, muttering a curse word. “I don’t care who it was,” he snapped. “Don’t talk over the goddamn song. What’s the point of them even playing songs if they’re gonna-” He let out some high pitched gibberish that sounded like an irate chipmunk after sucking helium.

“So, where’s next on the famous Elvis’ hometown tour?” “Aw, honey, there’s no…” He didn’t even bother finishing his lie. “There ain’t no point showing you, you know more about it than I do. I ever end up writing that book about my life, you’ll be there…’No, Elvis, it didn’t happen like that, I was there.’” She shook her head at his usual high-pitched impression of her.

“The two of us in rocking chairs, me trying to edit every story,” she added. “In my head, you’re old when you’re writing this life story.”

She felt her cheeks heat as she had basically admitted that she pictured them together when they were old. That was giving away too much and also trying to take too little.

If he noticed her embarrassment or thought that the idea of them being together when they were old was far-fetched, he didn’t show it, huffing a laugh as he guided them back through more familiar streets. “We’re going back? So soon?” She thought of all the people back at the house, likely some annoyed employees and some tense phone calls to be made. She wondered if they would get to sneak out like this again during her stay, and considered that plans would probably be put in place to stop that happening.

“Well,” he bounced a closed fist against the inside of the truck door. “I gotta change my damn pants and… It seems like you might still be in a bad mood, honey. I think it might be time to try the second thing.”

Tag lIst: @richardslady121, @dkayfixates, @fallinlovewithurlove, @notstefaniepresley, @heartbrake-hotel , @freudianslumber , @bbrtt777, @18lkpeters , @prompted-wordsmith, @literally-just-elvis-fics , @eliseinmemphis @lookingforrainbows , @stylespresleyhearted , @amydarcimarie , @returntopresley, @savedrebelcreation, @lettersfromvenus , @littlehoneyposts, @joshuntildawn13, @i-r-i-n-a-a, @from-memphis-with-love, @ellie-24, @be-my-ally, @vintageshanny

#elvis presley #70s elvis #elvis fanfic #elvis x oc #elvis fanfiction #elvis presley fanfic #elvis presley fanfiction #enjoyable slide to oblivion #whositmcwhatsit #Consider this my dessicated zombie hand breaking through the ground and finding the world above has changed beyond recognition

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nobodys-saviour · 3 months

Text

On Remembering

In which he reads her The Snow Queen.

Zayne. unnamed FMC. it's their childhood. does this count as canon divergence? idk. could be canon.

"What are you doing?"

She's eight years old, and he's at least two years older than her.

He blinked. He hadn't expected the girl to talk with him, but then again, Caleb—older than the both of them—was nowhere to be found. Normally, as the eldest, Caleb was the 'leader' between the three of them. Not that Zayne follows him a lot.

"Reading." He replied quickly, concisely. Zayne is one to get straight to the point, after all.

"What are you reading?"

He raises the book to show her the title, and she blinks back at him and shakes her head.

"I can't read yet."

He stares at her like she's grown two heads. How can anyone not have read yet? People not reading is unthinkable to his ten year old brain. What else is there except to read?

His silence must have bothered her, because she continues defensively, "I'm still learning!" She sits beside him. "It's hard, but... I'm trying."

She reaches out to the page, touching the artwork on it and mumbles, "that's pretty..."

He was reading a book of fairytales the girl's grandmother let him borrow. Not his cup of tea, but there aren't really a lot of books in the house, unlike back home.

He watches her finger trace out the images on the page—of the beautiful Snow Queen.

"What's happening here?" she looked at him.

Her eyes were shining brightly, curiously, and for a span of a second, Zayne remembers something—and then it was gone. It was like an oh, but he doesn't understand. He doesn't quite know exactly what he remembered.

But when he opens his mouth, he asks, "do you want me to tell you the story?"

She smiles, bright and wide, and everything settles in him, like a puzzle piece that fit.

"Really? Would you read it to me?"

Zayne would have said no, but he was already flipping the pages to the beginning before he can even think to reply. She pressed herself on his side, happy to look at the images and waiting for him to begin.

And so the little boy reads to her The Snow Queen. She worried at the beginning, smiled when he talked about Gerda and Kay. Frowned and grumbled when Kay got the mirror in his heart and eye. As he read, he watched her expressions at the corner of his eye. They were fascinating, riveting.

"You know," she starts, when he finishes reading to her, "Gerda could have been happy with the witch."

He regards her with a look. He finds that he likes looking at her.

"She's forgotten everything, and she could have been happy." She paused. "But it would have been false happiness. There would always be a hole in her heart for Kay and her flowers."

And there. There it was again. The something that felt like it was bursting out from inside his head, but he doesn't quite get it.

"Would you have been happy to forget?" He found himself asking.

She blinked in surprise. Turned to him. "If I were Gerda..."

A pause. Silence, as she thought. He took delight in watching her scrunch her forehead, mouth pressed into a line.

"I would have been happier if Kay didn't leave at all."

"Ah."

A pause again.

She continues.

"But at the very least..." She traced the images again, of the end, of Gerda and Kay hand in hand. "At least they found each other again."

#drabbles by evelien #love and deepspace #l&ds #zayne #li shen #love and deepspace zayne #zayne l&ds #been a long long while since i last wrote so. thanks l&ds

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hazzyking · 8 months

Text

Some fluff. I feel like some people want Buggy fluff.

I had a procedure in July, which left me with scars on my stomach where my uterus is. And when I was "healed" I went to the beach in a bikini and a lot of people stared at me. It made me self-conscious about myself, and I felt like a freak. So. This one shot is called Scars. I'm gonna try and be as ambiguous as possible so that way it can be as truthful to everyone as possible

There's not really a fitting gif for this story... but I like Buggy's smile!!!

Scar Tissue

On the warm sunny days you would usually set up a blanket on the main deck and sprawl out in your bathingsuit to catch some rays, there's nothing you loved more than basking in the golden sun while listening to the waves lap against the hull of the ship.

After a recent battle that left you with new scars on what used to be your "perfect" skin, it's been harder to go out and soak up the sun. Buggy noticed you getting mopey and depressed and he deduced it was because of lack of sunlight. Because men have no understanding of women. And your obviously a plant. "C'mon sweetheart, just humor me- go out in the sun for a few hours like you used to and tell me how you feel after, and if it dosnt work I will continue to try and make you feel better. Please?" Buggy asked pressing a gentle kiss on your shoulder. He looked at you with those soft eyes that he only ever had for you. You sighed leaning back in the bed.

"I don't want to" you muttered. Buggy's lips pursed and moved to one side in a puzzled face. He then hovered over your body before pressing his whole weight on you and holding you close.

"Please Baby, it'll be good for you. And besides- I have to get some kind of work done today so I think it's best if we both leave the bedroom" Buggy smirked against your skin.

"Fine" you groaned and then squirmed put of Buggy's hold. You went and put on your bathingsuit and grabbed a towel, before you left the room you took a look at yourself in the mirror seeing your scars, your smile faded as you looked at yourself.

"Hey (Y/N)- you look beautiful," Buggy smiled, his hands detaching from him and floating over to squease your shoulders reassuringly. His head then floated over to kiss your cheek. You laugh looking at him, and then his body which was standing infront of the dresser.

"You are so lazy" you giggle. Buggy chuckles as his limps reattach. You take one last look at him before leaving to go and sit on the top deck. You fixed yourself your favorite fruity drink and then laid the towel so it was perfectly flat against the deck you sighed in content as you laid on the towel and began to drift off under the warm sun.

"You'd think all those scars, and she'd lose some of that fat," one of the crew mates said, causing the others to laugh. You sat up and looked over at them, who were all below deck looking in the water. The crew mate kept making scar and fat comments, which made everyone else continue to laugh and kackle loudly at the jokes. You looked down at your ((where ever you may have scars)) and blushed in embarrassment and then covered yourself with your towel and ran back into the captains quarters.

You laid on the bed, still wrapped up in your beach towel all day. Your inner thoughts had left you frozen just staring at the wall. The door to the bedroom had opened and shut again, and the room filled up with the smell of your favorite dinner. Buggy sat on the bed on the side that your back was facing. He placed a hand on your back, running his hand up and down reassuringly. "Sweetheart?" Buggy muttered softly. "I brought you dinner," Buggy said, smiling slightly.

"I'm not hungry," you mutter, hiding under the towel.

"You need to eat something (Y/N)" Buggy sighed.

"I'm not hungry," you said again. Buggy looked down at the plate and got up and set it on the nightstand next to your face, he kneeled down on the ground looking into your eyes, his fingers slowly began to caress your nose lovingly. You blushed, looking into his gentle eyes as tears began to well up in your own.

"The guys were worried about you." Buggy said, and you scoffed. "They were talking about a fish," Buggy chuckled.

"What?" You asked, shocked. You were always the one who was secure and radiated self-confidence. You couldn't believe what he had just told you.

"Yeah. A giant inedible fat fish they had caught, " Buggy laughed again.

"It's not fair that you're laughing at me. Considering no one can say nose or knows in your presence, " you mutter blushing hard in embarrassment.

"You know why I think everyone is making fun of me all the time?" Buggy asked, bopping your nose softly. "Cause when I look in the mirror, I see a freak." Buggy admitted. "And I try the whole confidence thing by being the star of she show and pulling off flashy acts, but... at the end of the day. I'm still just some guy with a big ugly nose, " Buggy said, looking down at the ground. "I get it. Right now, you think you look like a freak. And you think you look bad. That's why when people are laughing, you think it's because they're laughing at you. Out of all the people in the world, I feel like i can understand that most of all. But (Y/N) I think you're beautiful the way you are. And that should count for something, " He continued. He started to look around the room nervously. He had never opened up to anyone like that before. You knew it, too. You felt your heart fill up so much it might explode if he keeps pouring his own heart out.

"Buggy," you begin, reaching your hand out to cup his face, "I love you for who you are. Insecurities and all, " you smile, placing a soft kiss on his nose. "And I love the nose," you smile seeing his face light up.

"Really!?" He smiles brightly.

"Really"

#one piece #oneshot #one piece live action #live action buggy #live action buggy the clown #fluff

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mwolf0epsilon · 4 months

Text

What Love Looks Like

This is a long one...

Caprichoso, walking around the mess hall with a food tray full of green nutrimush while looking for a place to sit: Uh, I guess Dogma must still be on shift...

Clearcut, sitting with a group of 501st vode before noticing Caprichoso: Over here Capri.

Caprichoso, glancing over and beaming: CC! Hey! -sitting down next to the older trooper- Thanks, this place is packed!

Hardcase, chuckling: That's usually how it is during midmeal! Lots of very hungry troopers lining up to get the best slop!

Clearcut, noticing the enormous pile of food on the other's tray and looking slightly nauseated: Capri, please tell me you're not planning to eat all of that in one sitting...

Caprichoso, grinning: Sure am! But I promise I won't get too excited and choke this time. I'm just not used to being allowed to eat so much of my favorite grub without having to slap someone's hand away.

Clearcut: I am still not quite sure how the green veggie paste is your favorite. It's too sweet for my own taste.

Hardcase: How, for real? The sweetness is what makes it good!

Caprichoso, looking at Hardcase: You. You get me! All of the other options taste so bland! But this one tastes so good...

Hardcase: Hear hear! Green mush is the best mush!

Jesse, laughing: Man... I wish you'd been assigned to the 501st. You would have fit right in immediately!

Caprichoso, surprised: Wow, you really think so?

Fives: We know so. You're what? Around Tup's age group? Pretty sure if you'd been deployed at the same time you would have made the cut.

Jesse: Yeah, maybe then we would have all just fit where we belonged instead of dealing with... Some troopers.

Tup, frowning but staying quiet:

Hardcase, pausing as he glances up at Jesse with a somewhat puzzled look:

Clearcut, also pausing but looking noticeably uncomfortable:

Caprichoso: ... What do you mean?

Jesse: Hm? Oh, you know. Just some conflict you don't really need to worry about.

Caprichoso, noticing Tup's unusually quiet demeanor and the pinched look on Clearcut's face: ...

Caprichoso, crossing his arms: No, carry on. What was that supposed to mean?

Jesse: ... Ok, I'll be real with you. You? You get us. You fit in just right. Better than you do with the 105th.

Caprichoso, frowning due to this being a particularly sore topic for him: Yeah...?

Jesse: Well, there's a trooper who's the exact opposite. And he proved that on Umbara.

Caprichoso, adding 2 and 2 together: I... You're talking about Dogma aren't you?

Tup, focusing on his tray clearly unwilling to participate in this conversation:

Fives: Yeah, it's about Dogma. He doesn't really fit with the rest of us.

Jesse: He doesn't act like a vod, is what Fives means. Which is a huge problem.

Tup, looking up at Jesse with an angry look on his face:

Jesse, raising his hands in defense: I mean, I'm sure he's plenty brotherly with you Tup. But that's you. With everyone else he's a stuck up shabuir that wouldn't hesitate to rat anyone else out for his own benefit, just like he did on Umbara.

Caprichoso, slowly beginning to look angry: Umbara was a stressful situation. You saw what Krell was like, do you really think you were anything but lucky back there?

Fives, offended: Lucky?!

Jesse: We were anything BUT lucky! Krell nearly killed the entire battalion! Made us kill each other for his own sick amusement! Sent Fives, Hardcase and I to be executed via firing squad which Dogma manned! And then when evidence cropped up that he was a bastard, Dogma STILL sided with him! Hells he pointed a blaster at the captain! At Tup! He's no vod!

Caprichoso, furious: You were lucky, because that was ONE campaign with Krell. The 105th on the other hand experienced all that and worse CONSTANTLY! And let me tell you, when your entire deployment is based on survival of the fittest, you have to do some pretty crappy horrid things to live another day...

Jesse, trying to find an argument for this: Vode stick to each other! No matter what!

Caprichoso: Really? So you never met a vod on Kamino that never picked on someone else because they were favored by trainers? You never got angry at your own batchers because you felt like they could do better and were slacking in sims? Never met some other older vode who thought they knew better than you just because they were more experienced?

Jesse: ...

Fives, recalling how it used to be for Domino Squad back on Kamino: ...

Hardcase, trying to figure out how to get everyone to calm down before this gets any worse: Err... Maybe we should...

Caprichoso: I read the reports. I read what happened on Umbara. I read them because I knew from the moment Krell left to lead the 501st, that something bad was gonna happen. And I can tell you from both an inside and outside perspective that all of the things Dogma did he didn't do for himself.

Clearcut, sighing because he knows Capri isn't going to let go:

Caprichoso: He was scared, sure. We all were scared once we realized Krell was a demagolka shabuir who didn't really care for us unless we were useful or entertaining in some way. I watched good vode be reshaped into... Into something unrecognizable under his command. My brothers who I love so much and who I wish loved me just as much as Dogma loves you miserable bastards!

Tup, opens his mouth:

Caprichoso: Keep your mouth shut, you lost the right to say anything the moment you let that piece of osik lieutenant drag your twin's name through the mud! For all that I've heard you moan and bitch about my twin being a jerk, you're no bouquet of roses!

Tup, flinching: Ah...

Fives: Hey don't talk to Tup like that!

Caprichoso: Or what? You'll go off on some suicide mission and jeopardize the lives of your vode like you did on Umbara? Get off your high fathier ARC trooper, you've got no idea how to work in a team and it shows. The stunt you pulled on Umbara only got you a firing squad execution, one which according to records should have fallen to your coward of a captain to lead... Not Dogma.

Jesse: The captain would never--

Clearcut: ... He would.

Jesse, turning to look at Clearcut in surprise: Uh?

Clearcut: ... Sargeant Slick.

Hardcase, wincing: ...

Caprichoso: Also on that note. The firing squad. Curious how Dogma chose the best sharpshooters and a medic to make damn sure you lot didn't feel a thing once you got taken out. Very cruel of him uh? Following orders from someone who wasn't opposed to punish an entire battalion for someone else's disobedience, and yet still making damn sure it was as mercifully a clean shot as possible...

Jesse, at a loss for words: I... You don't...

Caprichoso: I don't get it? Sure I do. Surviving under Krell taught me something valuable. That if you plan to act against an oppressor, you make it your mission to put the only target on your back. Not on your vode's. And yeah sure, I'm louder, I'm angrier, I'm ten times more insufferable than Dogma. But I can recognize something you definitely don't seem to be able to unless it's your brand.

Fives: And what's that?

Caprichoso: What love looks like. And it certainly isn't wishing that your little brother was in a battalion where he would have been abused into submission or into outright hate and hostility towards his own crew.

Caprichoso, getting up: Urgh, I'm not hungry anymore... Your opinions are so disgusting I'd rather starve than eat with you. I don't get what Dogma sees in you poodoo-brained karkers at all, he really would be better off on his own. -storming off furiously-

Jesse, Fives, Tup & Hardcase, watching Capri leave the mess hall: ...

Clearcut, sighing sadly due to this conversation having derailed so quickly: ... I've never met a kih'vod more stubbornly loyal than Capri. He won't be letting go of this newfound grudge anytime soon.

#star wars #the clone wars #arc trooper jesse #arc trooper fives #clone trooper hardcase #clone trooper tup #clone ocs #105th battalion #krell's battalion #clone trooper caprichoso #clone trooper clearcut #when capri told dogma they were gonna be the best of friends he really meant it #he basically imprinted on him and is now furiously loyal towards him #mostly because since he's so used to Dogma's specific brand of love language he understands that the other isn't as stuck up and selfish as #most assume him to be... In fact Capri understands that Dogma's expression of affection is very unique among the 501st because they're all #typically loud and extremely vocal about their affections rather than subtle and quiet like Dogma #so seeing Dogma get slandered and disregarded as 'not vod-like' really grinds his gears because he can SEE how much Dogma loves his brother

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reflections-in-a-critical-eye · 7 months

Text

I've asked myself many times over the course of three years about how would I react to information that comes to contradict a specific image I have about people. And the answer would differ, more or less, depending on a myriad of factors, such as my mental wellbeing, my attitude toward the fandom, the group, the members, etc. The truth is, I only knew how I would respond the moment it happens and I was pleasantly surprised in a way. I see it as a sign that I'm doing better or at least I'm on the path of doing better.

These are things that I didn't want to allow to come to surface in the way I used to handle the BTM blog. Perhaps because the point was to create a platform in which I could offer the rational, researched perspective which I considered to be the correct one. I'm not retracting any of that. I still believe that it is possible to offer a more complex perspective if I can back it up with knowledge from various fields, but it was also one of my defense mechanisms.

Without expanding on the personal reasons, it has become very easy for me to separate my rational and emotional side. So much, that even when I should be staying in the moment and let my emotions take space, I can't really do it, I need to come up with a rational explanation so it can make sense. I then applied this to BTS as well. I couldn't just say I like this group when someone would ask, I would have to tell them about all the studies I read and how my fascination is mostly intelectual, when in truth it was both. I used to talk about jikook only in the context of analysis, be it GCF through semiotics or various types of interpretations when it came to their performances or fandom reception in terms of their dynamics. It had to be in the context of rational fascination and curiosity because I was merely trying to justify myself on why I care that much about two strangers that I look at on my phone. Again, my intellectual curiosity is real, but that has always been only one side if the coin, but it was one that I pushed.

It's about shame actually. I can't actually accept that I have such an interest. It doesn't fit with the idea I have of myself. And sometimes I don't like it because it makes me question my intellect, my critical thinking. How can I be so good academically and at the same time I fear that I've fallen into a fandom trap? I'm smart, right? Right?

I'm sure a lot of people have dealt with or ar going through this process of cognitive dissonance. How does one deal with the mere idea that something they believe in based on their understanding of the world, their ability of decoding (not in a conspiracy sense, but in a Saussurean way) can turn out to be wrong? We see something that resembles a specific behavior that we are surrounded with our entire lives, sometimes we ourselves engage with, but we've identified it wrong on others? Of course, it's through the visual medium, one that is edited. It's a puzzle with large chunks missing, but we're getting a general idea of it. But we can be wrong. So how do we deal with that? Well, I don't have a correct answer.

Me in 2020/2021 would have been more affected because my mental health was not good. I was functionally depressed and I clinged so much onto BTS, Jikook and the small community that I found myself in at that time, that I would have felt a lot more torn than I am now.

A couple of years later and having to actually go through a situation in which my understanding of people's relationship might not be accurate, I realized I'm fine. And I think it's because it made me really register just now that I finally learned how to have fun with it. It took me three years. By having fun, I mean genuinely being able to simply enjoy the little things. I'm still on the path of not being ashamed for liking kpop or spending time talking about the dynamic/relationship of two people.

What prompted this post was reading what is currently being written in the jikook tag. Yes, I had this big introductory chunk that perhaps people won't bother reading, but I'm doing it for myself. If I can't be honest while writing stuff into the void for strangers to read, then what is the point?

I get frustrated very easily. I like debates and contradictory points of view, but not always. And that's because I like to be right. Almost all the time. So when I see something that I believe it lacks logic or I find it absurd, then my fingers are itching. I don't comment or DM people, I can control myself. I'd rather get out of the app and do something else.

What I want to say is I was surprised at how much fanfiction is being written. More that usual. Shipping contains a big deal of fanfiction by its nature. Gestures and events taking place at different times are interpreted and having information added that fills the gaps. People do that because they have to make sense of what they see.

They like to make relationship timelines. They speculate on first kisses and first sexual experiences. That's their imagination. None of us has any way of knowing. The element of fiction is heighted when people feel like they are losing control of the narrative. When they are unsure of what they are seeing. Which is what usually happens in the shipping community on a yearly basis. Anons flooding the bloggers' inboxes because they need confirmation or they didn't get any ship content in a month or two which means something is wrong.

There's this understanding that the shipper/supporter is delusional while the one who stops shipping is the rational one. From what I've observed throughout time and mostly now, that is a false distinction. The so-called rational fan makes use of fiction just as the shipper. The difference is in purpose. One talks about why the supposed romantic relationship is real and the other tries to refute that. But both categories seem to need fiction in order to build their arguments. That is because none of them have access to someone's private life and relationship, so the gaps need to be filled with speculation. There is no right or wrong version here, despite how much the idea is being pushed. And me writing about this won't make a difference. It's simply how the fandom works. The one who position themselves on the side of anti-delulu will always be seen as the less crazy one. The similarities will fade for the collective consciousness of the fandom.

I think it's difficult for a lot of people, regardless on which side they find themselves on, to accept that the option of simply not knowing is enough as well. Or knowing, but without getting anal about it. But it's hard and they write posts after posts, anons are sending asks over asks because there has to be a firm answer. Only a few allow themselves to be in between lines.

I'll bring back something that I always used to say. Shipping and involvement in the fandom is a lot more about us and less about the people we're talking about. It's about fullfiling some needs, of needing a community, of focusing on the idea of love. Those things can still be done in a way that still makes the experience enjoyable. But not everyone can and I'm not blaming it.

There's a way to just like how people behave with each other and imagine things without adding so much weight to it. Regardless of the true nature. It's our imagination, there's no need for a moral inquisition to tell anyone how to think or that they should stop thinking a certain way. Touching some grass is a cliche and an expression I ended up hating, but I do believe that being connected to discourse on a daily basis can really alter our sense of reality and what we consider to be real issues. We really should pay more attention to that and take some distance if necessary.

#m thoughts #jikook #kpop shipping #bts shipping #fandom discourse

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itsclydebitches · 9 months

Note

for all that it's very clear RWBY took influence from a lot of anime, the writers sure don't seem to have learned much of anything from it. i'm watching the redub of the classic sailor moon anime right now, and it's insane to me how much better this thirty-year-old anime packed with filler was at things like character arcs and believably redeeming villains and having a main character that is at once childish and yet a great leader who, when the chips are down, could talk some of the worst evils in the universe down from their plans.

if anyone could talk salem out of her plans for world annihilation by just being able to love her, it's usagi tsukino.

Right? Man, I'd pay for a high-budget, animated version of that crossover lol.

That's one of the big arguments of the Why RWBY is Disappointing vid though, using Cowboy Beebop as an example, if I remember correctly. There's no doubt that RWBY has been influenced by a number of classic series, but deliberately mimicking something that worked in another show doesn't guarantee success, particularly if you don't understand why it worked in the first place. I'm constantly emphasizing that stories are whole products made up of a thousand smaller pieces, like a puzzle or a patchwork quilt, and simply slapping one piece down because it looks good in another story isn't enough. You have to carefully build everything around that piece so that it fits into the unified whole. Continuity, world building, characterization, setup... RWBY is very good at throwing out those "cool" moments, but it does none of the work ahead of time (or, just as often, after the fact) to make those moments satisfying outside of the initial adrenaline rush of watching.

Plus, RWBY is over-crowded nowadays. Characters, mysteries, real world issues, and those "cool" ideas have populated like bunnies until, I think, it's easy for a lot of fans to just get swept up in the spectacle of it all. The simpler your story is, the less there is to hide behind, which is why I think a lot of manga like Sailor Moon still rings true 30+ years later. If you do right by your core concepts and prove to the reader (often subconsciously) that your storytelling skills are strong, it will resonate even after new generations have different expectations in their media, or these ideas have become "cliche" in wake of that initial popularity. If we go with a food comparison (always my favorite lol) Sailor Moon makes me think of something like good home cooking. Looking at it now it's simple, it's straightforward, it has some technical flaws, but the comparatively low number of ingredients have all been treated stunningly well and there is an insane amount of love poured into the dish. Meanwhile, later seasons of RWBY feel like a semi-successful restaurant serving a special so long it took the server a week to fully memorize it, rattling off an absurd number of ingredients and fancy techniques used until you're not even sure what the dish is supposed to be anymore. Some diners go, "Wow, what an amazing, clearly high-end dish! And they've included this super rare ingredient which means it must be good." Meanwhile, others are going, "... Honestly, that sounds like Too Much. I'd have preferred a simple, well-done pasta." And all the while the restaurant—which is pretty big and popular now, garnering a lot of critical attention—is trying to pass this complicated, fancy-for-the-sake-of-fancy dish off as the product of a humble, mom-and-pop establishment. No, you used to serve that kind of food: simple, technically flawed in a lot of ways, but with so much love poured into the dish that most diners didn't care. Now people suspect that your chefs are miserable and we definitely know they're overworked, so even if that insane dish would have tasted great to certain pallets, it was doomed before it even left the kitchen.

#rwde #rwby #mymetas

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koostarcandy · 2 years

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only love

pairing: jungkook x reader

summary: over 5 months of domestic bliss with your best friend turned roommate turned lover gets you thinking, alot. alternative? a fluffy, domestic morning with koo 🥰

genre: bestfriendstolovers!au, fluff

wc: around 1k

warnings: they're so sappy god, lots of kisses and soft stuff, sliiiiight mention of suggestive stuff

a/n: inspired by only and honeymoon fades !! this was very indulgent, i kept going on and I didn't know how to stop 🤧 I also took a prompt from my prompt list cause it fits well ^^ happie reading !! maybe listen to ♡ while reading?

gentle fingertips tracing your soft skin wakes you from your sleep, heavy eyelids forcing themselves open and greeted by stripes of white light, courtesy of the cream linen curtains hanging on your window.

"good morning, my love," a sleep-ridden voice beside you prompts you to turn to the source, met by messy haired yet still adorable jungkook, sleepy smile gracing his lips when your eyes meet. you nudge your nose with his, not trusting your voice at the moment. he pulls you closer, head resting on your blanket covered chest and yawning, mumbling about seeing blueberry waffles and vanilla milkshakes in his dream, deeming it as breakfast for the day.

you never knew letting your best friend move in with you while he was on the lookout for a new apartment would turn into something so wonderful. he always knew the passcode to your place, sometimes finding him passed out on your couch, tv running as background noise, curled up in his favourite blanket. it was like he lived there, except for the fact that he didn't. you're the best roommate he's had, he confesses one lazy afternoon, ice lollies in hand while you flip through your book. you let him do chores at his own pace and let him put the aircon on whenever he wants, the customary humidifier in random corners of your house.

"and then he says that she fell down the stairs! nothing about him hitting her no, he's literally gaslighting her and it's so infuriating, i wish i could punch him, koo, it's so annoying," you huff, explaining the latest book you've been reading to him.

jungkook looks up from his place on your chest, wide eyes in disbelief and chin propped up, "that asshole, i knew ryle was no good from the beginning, like, who begs someone to fuck them???" you nod furiously, leading you to another rant about how he was a walking red flag, not realising how jungkook was sporting the fondest and most content smile on his face.

you've learnt more about jungkook while living with him for more than 5 months now. he likes milk in the mornings and loves spicy ramen at the dead of night. he took it upon himself to play every game in play store with you, often ending with your limbs tangled while you fret over yet another impossible puzzle on your ipad. he's everything you've ever wanted in a roommate, the perfect balance of fun and seriousness throwing you off sometimes.

you didn't know when you would spill your feelings out to him, heart locked up with chains after miserable experiences. maybe it was the liquid courage, maybe it was jungkook being fed up of keeping his feelings bottled up inside. one soju shot after another, you're both nose to nose, forehead to forehead, deep in a game of who knows what.

"the person who takes the next shot will have to say something about the other," jungkook says randomly, heavy alcohol breaths not fazing the both of you. you flick open the next bottle, the cap rattling drowned out by the sound of you chugging at rapid speeds. alarmed, jungkook snatches the bottle from you, only to freeze at your next words.

"i'm in love with you, koo."

the bottle almost slips from his tattooed fingers but you catch it in him, despite your tipsy daze on him. "say something," you plead, eyes boring into his suddenly rigid face.

"how mad would you be if I kissed you right now?"

not mad, it turns out. you're on him in a second, frantic lips trying to convey a million emotions. pulling apart with slightly heaving chests, you cup his face, rubbing the rosy apples of his cheeks. he holds your wrists, pressing another kiss on your lips. and another, followed by a tiny giggle. he decides he wants to hear it again, peppering smooches all over your face till you're flat on the ground, laughing at goodness knows what.

"hello? do you not want whipped cream on your waffles then??" a large hand waves infront of you, breaking out of your indulgent reverie. "i want," you say and nod your head, yeah definitely, whipped cream and blueberries? perfect combination.

"what were you thinking about, love?" jungkook asks curiously, wondering what's got you zoning out, small smile dancing on your lips. "you, of course" saying it likes it's the most obvious thing in the world. pressing a sweet kiss to his forehead, you wear his t-shirt and hop off the bed, saying you'd get a headstart on breakfast. you leave him all red-eared and giggly on your bed and he hopes he's the only one on your mind who's got you all soft and giddy.

you carefully press the waffle batter and close it shut and go through your fridge for whipped cream. "koo, i can't find the can again-oh there it is," you end sheepishly when a long hand takes the can from the side of the fridge and you're met with a shirtless jungkook, small smirk playing on his face.

"you know," he starts, closing the fridge and pulling you close with a tattooed arm around your waist, "i'm starting to think you keep me around so your apartment doesn't go upside down," you scoff playfully, aware of his neat habits, "that's exactly why I keep you, darling" you say coolly, as if you don't love him with your whole heart and he didn't rock your world last night.

you set the now ready waffles on a plate, jungkook joining in on the fun and making it seem like a cake, a layer of blueberries and whipped cream between each waffle. almost half of it is gone by the time the second batch of waffles is done and jungkook groans in delight, "you made more?! I knew I loved you for a reason," he says proudly, a loud "mwah!" on your lips and he's onto making the next stack happily, feeding you and filling you in on your friends' latest shenanigans.

you suddenly find yourself hoping and praying you both never change, staying the way you are, loving each other so hard it makes you weak at the knees and wishing you'd feel that for the rest of your life. you follow his sparkly doe eyes and animated expressions, completely enamored with him and his ways. you hope you both can love through the pain and whatever is thrown your way.

"and when I told them about how i wasn't going to move in with them and stay with you, they were actually shocked?? but forget them, we didn't see us coming."

you nod in agreement, regretting the times you were oblivious to his affections. you really should've known when he wears his heart proudly on his sleeve. you smile and place a chaste kiss on his cheek, getting up so you could get the dishes done with but you're beaten to it. jungkook forcefully sits you down and says he's doing them this time and that he'll do you later, which cracks him up and gets you scrunching your nose in amusement, his childishness peeking through.

"you see that? see the technique? the snap of my wrist? only an expert could do this baby," he says proudly, stacking the dishes neatly. he wipes his hands quickly and he's next to you in a second, hand behind your neck pulling you in for a sweet kiss. you sigh happily into the kiss, arms resting on his shoulders. he places several pecks on your lips, eliciting his favourite sound, your laugh. he places you on the counter effortlessly, doe eyes peering into yours. the comfortable silence envelopes you both in a bubble, foreheads and noses touching.

"i love you," jungkook says firmly yet softly, lips moulding with yours. he trails them down to the junction between your neck and shoulder, placing a loving kiss and resting his forehead there. you press a gentle smooch to his forehead, the beginnings of a lovestruck smile dawning on your face.

"and i love you, koo" you say happily, now holding his face gently in your hands. you kiss him like it's the last time you're going to see him, pulling away just so you could gaze at his handsome face. he carries you in his arms and settles on the couch, making sure you're both as close as it can get. jungkook's already pulling up your favourite drama on tv, knowing it would be forgotten later.

The fuzzy feeling brought by the tranquil atmosphere makes you both sleepy, so you manoeuvre yourselves till you're lying together. smiley, sleepy eyes slowly close and you're both off to dreamland, wrapped in love.

pt time: @lvoekook ; @joondiary ; @soobhyun

#pls gimme feedback i'd like to know how i did this time 🥺🫂#jungkook x reader #jungkook imagine #jungkook drabble #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #bts x reader #bts imagine #bts drabble #bts fic #bts fanfic #this was soooo soft and fluffy for me to write i loved it #the songs were very very helpful :D #chaenelcore

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k-martins · 9 months

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N.A: I've been thinking a lot about writing something quick and cute itafushi so I found this list of @novelbear and couldn't resist writing something about these two. Good reading! :D

Adorable wasn't exactly a word attributed to Megumi.

At least, Yuji never heard anyone call him that - maybe Gojo sensei , but to the most powerful jujutsu sorcerer anything that looks threatening must be adorable or comical.

Yuji 's experience , Megumi had many adjectives that were the complete opposite of cute. Cold, scary, stoic, a tired bitch, grumpy and boredom personified – thank you, Todo.

Of course, it wasn't for less.

Megumi's face seemed to have been molded to carry that poker face forever , his features relaxed, but still firm and confident. The emerald eyes stared seriously at the viewer, almost as if reading the poor person's own soul – One or two girls already shuddered when Megumi glared at them, even though he just wanted to buy popcorn for the movie session they were going to. It also didn't help that Megumi rarely laughed, had a prickly neutral tone of voice, and perhaps a dark aura that even normal humans were able to sense.

It wasn't exactly the kind of thing most people found cute or adorable.

But, looking at the raven-haired boy now, Yuji was sure that everyone was sorely mistaken!

Wrapped in a big, heavy blanket, a steaming cup of ginger tea in hand, wearing slippers with dogs that resembled his shikigami – these were truly, undeniably adorable – and the black threads shooting in various directions made Megumi the most adorable thing Yuji had seen in a long time. He looked so small and fluffy, like a big sulking burrito . It didn't help that the only visible part of his body was his face pressed into the soft, warm fabric of the blanket, making his red cheeks and nose that much more prominent.

The sight made Yuji melt like jelly on the sofa where he sat with his legs up and a forgotten issue of the manga he loved in his lap.

How could anyone call Megumi scary when he looked like a walking cinnamon roll?

It looks like Yuji was taking too long looking, as the other boy raised an eyebrow, puzzled.

"What it was?"

Oops .

"Nothing. Just thinking..."

"This is dangerous."

In another moment, Yuji would have exclaimed a “ hey ” with mock indignation, but now he could only laugh a little. Megumi sipped some of the tea, the steam making his cheeks even redder. It is still surprising to Yuji to see how easily Megumi blushes, whether from the cold weather or embarrassment. In either case, it's cute.

After almost a minute of silence, Megumi puts the mug down and gives him a hard look.

“Do I have something on my face by any chance, Itadori?”

Yuji just laughed some more, looking admiringly at that expression torn between confusion and anger. He looked like an angry kitten.

“No, that's not it. It's just that…” He took a deep breath, trying to force the words out of the laughter. “You look so cute in that blanket, Megumi.”

Megumi's long eyelashes flutter as he blinks, mouth pulling up in a shy pout. His cheeks get a rosier tone, which makes Yuji 's own smile open a little more.

“I'm not cute” He snapped, sinking into the blanket, getting exactly fluffier.

"Yes, you are!"

“Stop it, Itadori.”

“But you look so adorable.” Yuji got up until he was close to the other boy, reaching out to cup Megumi's warm cheeks, squeezing them affectionately. He grew the two centimeters that differentiated him from the other boy in the summer, now being able to look him straight in the eyes. “It looks like a burrito . A very fluffy burrito .”

Even redder, Megumi raises his fist to hit Yuji 's head , the blow causing nothing but a fit of laughter from the pink haired boy.

“Stop calling me cute, idiot!” Megumi groans. “I'm not adorable. I am a jujutsu sorcerer .”

“And should that be exclusionary?” He hums the question, leaning in to where the boy's fist rests on his head. When Megumi doesn't respond, Yuji smirks. "There is! Got you!"

"Shut up."

But Yuji ignores this, quickly slipping one arm behind Megumi's knees while the other holds him behind his back, carrying his bridal style with ease. The sorcerer gasps, focusing on balancing his hot tea which still spills a few drops onto the blanket.

“What the fuck…?”

"I said..." Yuji brings his face close to Megumi's, bumping his nose. “I got you, my fluffy burrito .”

"Do not call me like that. It's stupid.” The other complained, but still sank against Yuji's chest, the pout still stuck in his face. Then, intent green eyes rise to meet Yuji 's , one brow arched behind bangs. “Where are you taking me, kirby?”

Again, Yuji melts into a puddle of jelly, delighted at the discovery of Megumi's hidden cuteness .

A cuteness that only he has the right to see.

That's enough to get you drunk.

“Oh, since you're a burrito …” Yuji laughs when Megumi punches him in the chest, but continues anyway, pressing his lips to his boyfriend's soft red cheek until she narrows his eyes. The scent of ginger and vanilla dances around your nose. "I think I'm going to eat it."

Megumi blinks in disbelief, lips parted in a silent 'o', and Yuji runs to his room, where the heat will be off and they can snuggle together under the heavy, warm blanket.

He couldn't want more.

Or maybe yes...

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rosekasa · 11 months

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Hello! I am a beginner artist and I love ur art!! Super pretty and the colors are very tasty. Do you have some tips? I'd love to see your art process!

HELLO ANON!! first of all i am very honoured that u would ask me this because 90% of the time i feel like i have no idea what i am doing and like im still a beginner artist myself DSDSJDF. i would love to share some stuff i learnt and some stuff about my process (regardless of how messy it is sdfhsj)

(final piece)

here's an old example of my process i found! while the steps sometimes look different for other pieces, i feel like this is a good demonstration of how the basic structure looks.

1. the sketch - this is where i'm mainly figuring out how i want the piece to look. i was redrawing a screenshot for this piece so it looks a LOT neater than what a lot of my other sketches look like, for example, here's the process of me figuring out my recent drawing of haise:

(final piece)

in the first two steps, i was mainly working with showing myself what the piece was going to be. the last one was where i used references/technical knowledge to try and show whoever will be looking at it what the piece was

2. cleaning up the sketch + base colours. these two usually occur simultaneously because i will get bored cleaning up the sketch midway through and want to start adding colour LMAO. on a more practical note, sometimes putting down the base colours and having a better idea of what the finished product will look like might make it easier to refine things.

a note: cleaning up for me doesn't mean doing lineart. it mostly means erasing any overly messy lines on the sketch and redrawing small parts to make it look tidier where needed. i often leave it 'messy' at this stage, too. like here:

(final piece)

3. light/shadow. this is my FAVOURITE part because it's where the piece starts pulling together. the method i used in the current piece was putting a multiply layer over the colours folder and filling in where light would be obstructed. after that, i used a luminosity layer to put in some bright sunlight. marc brunet has a great way of explaining it by advising to pretend that the light is the camera and you're behind the lens. this is such a good way to block in average light/shadow values! sometimes this looks a bit crazy because everything is still so messy but that is why we have...

4. rendering. this is where i fit all the remaining pieces of the puzzle together. i'll refine the colours a bit more -- e.g. colouring in the eyes, -- and fiddle a bit with the shadows to add some more variation to the hues/value. this is where i think a lot about light and shadow theory and try and make it look more realistic. marco bucci saved my LIFE with his videos about ambient occlusion and ambient light (part 1 / part 2) -- essentially, what i keep in mind the most is that if a plane in shadow is facing the sky (or is open to any other form of light that isn't the direct light source) it will contain ambient light. it is SUCH a game changer when you add it to your pieces, trust me, even if youre lazy about it. if needed i'll pull up some references to make everything look good!

5. rendering... part 2? honestly this step kind of blends with the last one as i tend to do it simultaneously. i basically clean up all the messy lines from before by painting over them! with the majority of the colours i need put down, i can just eyedrop them and paint over anything that's needed. this also comes in with the light/shadow, where, if i need a more subtle hue for either/or, i will eyedrop it and brush it in.

some further notes:

i very rarely use references during the first stages of my sketch. i think it tends to look quite stiff and unnatural if i rely too hard on the. and i personally prefer the creative room when the idea is still being conceived. references come in when i can look at what i have down on the canvas and have a fairly decent idea of what i want, including pose, composition, etc. it's essentially a first draft to guide me to where i want to go with the piece. it's when i'm done with this that i bring out references, and even then, they don't necessarily have to be the exact pose -- i'll usually get a couple of pics which show what i need to double check and keep them up as a guide. by the end of the 'sketch', i usually have a basic construction of what i need to continue, even if it's messy.

i use very soft brushes when putting down colour because it allows for more hue variation. like i said, i enjoy eyedropping and brushing in colours afterwards, so this really helps!

layer modes are ur friend! i try not to rely on them too hard during rendering because i like the freedom of painting over but they're very useful when you're blocking in your initial colours

sometimes, when i feel like i want to try something new with my art, i'll keep pieces that inspire me up in front of me. i have two of sui ishida's art books and sometimes i'll just flick to a page that oils the Art Gears in my brain and keep it open while i draw. i don't necessarily reference it, but i like having it there so i can glance over every once in a while. i don't usually make a conscious choice where i'm like "ok i want to render skin the way he does" but it's more like. my brain knows what it likes in his art and it'll try and push that part of my art in a similar direction.

honestly the best advice i have is that art is very much based on vibes. everytime i've tried to think too much about it, to do things 'correctly', to rigidly stick to art theory, my art has not come out nicely. i think the technical parts of art are important to know and understand but i also think it's important to let your knowledge come through naturally when it is needed instead of pressuring yourself to do things 'right'. tbh you probably already know that but it's something i forget a lot so maybe it serves as a helpful reminder?? sedsfhsl

ANYWAY SORRY THIS WAS SO LONG! i hope i covered what you needed and if you need anything else/want me to expand on anything feel free to drop me another ask ! <3

make sure to look after yourself and trust yourself and ENJOY!!! art is about having fun!

#art tutorial #art help #drawing tips #art tips #art advice #long post #ask #anon

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dnalt-d2 · 3 months

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QSMP Prison Day 3: Finale

This was…An interesting day

I'm still not sure what to make of it, so this is mostly just gonna be a run-down on what happened, with a few less analyses than I usually do. Maybe I'll go more in-depth on stuff later if I manage to think of anything

We had WAY too much happen today, and I'm not sure I can get through it all, or if I even saw it all (I'm going through the event twitter to make sure I get anything relevant)

Like how upon waking up, the prison was almost completely overrun by mobs, nearly all of which were wearing prison jumpsuits for some reason. Even the spiders for some reason???

There were the interviews that all the guards started conducting, asking very strange questions. Like "Where would you like to go after you die? What would you like your last meal to be? Who will you miss the most/least?" Very strange questions indeed.

We had the resolution to the Ghostbit/Abueloier subplot, with Phil and Slime exorcising Ghostbit, though Phil wasn't sure that was the correct move

Then of course, we had the breakout

The first thing they needed to do was get the water-breathing turtle helmets required for the escape, and the guard that had them was VERY suspicious. In that he CLEARLY knew that the prisoners were planning on escaping, but gave them the helmets anyway, making them do strange tasks in return (Like killing someone, or stealing something) And not everyone got them anyway lol, so Quacki had to give them some normal turtle helmets. But regardless, it's strange that the guard was just letting them escape

This could mean that this guard was either disgruntled in some way, not caring if they escaped, or undercover, helping to facilitate the escape (And having fun the whole way lol) Either that, or even the Federation expected the Islanders to all escape, and let this happen. Which means they all played into the Fed's hands. (Obviously meta-wise it was meant to happen, but in this case, I mean canonically)

Speaking of Quacki, btw, she seems to have been adopted by Phil after he murdered her. So that's fun

There's also the matter of those weird vans that were there. We don't know what the deal with those were, or what they were really intended for. It seems strange that they'd be there to transport the prisoners, but only the Islanders and not the Eggs. And that they were basically hollow, with nothing inside. Almost like they were never meant to be used

Then they finally actually got out of the prison, activating a red button via a Create puzzle, then saw a video showing two faceless Fed Workers, one of which got sucked into a Nether Portal??? And Phil said that could've been the two Cucuruchos, with the one being sucked in having turned into the evil Cucurucho. Or as I call him, Cucurubro. And that actually makes a lot of sense to me. We saw what happened to other people who entered the Nether for extended periods of time, so it makes sense that this is the case. Though I can't help but wonder where Osito Bimbo fits into that. Maybe the wacky younger sibling?? Idk

Either way, something activated and caused some sort of Island reset, with the Server shutting down for 4 days. What does the reset mean? Who has the nine keys required for it? And who were the people shown being logged off before it all went down?? What happened to Arin/Luzu after being lassoed into the horizon by the Code Monster??

Also what was that Crucifixion gonna be if it actually happened? Would Saint Felps truly have died for our sins once again??

These are all great questions

Anyways, can't wait to go into hibernation until like Saturday. I imagine BBH and Tubbo will be doing the same, since we all know they have a debilitating addiction to this Minecraft server

It's kinda unfortunate that none of my theories were correct, but oh well. There's a reason I'm not a theorist after all lmao. It's better to put it out there and get it wrong than not try it at all, you know??? But like Quackity said, there's no use getting upset about something that was never confirmed

NOW SEE YOU ON THE OTHER SIDE, EVERYBODY! I DON'T REALLY HAVE MUCH MORE TO ADD HERE

#Once again #Idk what to add in the tags #So yeah #Enjoy the break everyone #Get some work or whatever done #That's what I'm planning on doing lol #qsmp #qsmp theory #qsmp prison

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vegeta-bananabluish · 4 months

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Ten days to full bloom (Secret Santa fic)

Title: Ten Days to Full bloom Author: Bananabluish Gift for: The lovely Aevy WC: ~2200 Summary: Under the cherry blossom trees, painting the land in powdery pinks and whites, Goku discovers what it means to be in love with his newly-wed wife, Chi-Chi. AO3 Link: Here

Ten days to full bloom

Goku and ChiChi stood hand in hand, gazing out at the breathtaking view from their new home on Mount Paozu. The cherry blossom trees surrounding their land painted the landscape in hues of powdery pinks and whites, casting an atmosphere that looked so dreamily serene, that it verged on magical. Chichi's lavender cheongsam beautifully blended into the colors of the landscape, in contrast to Goku's appearance. Looking down at his signature orange gi, adorned with hooks and tears here and there, made him feel like he stood out like a sore thumb. He was brought back into reality when Chichi absentmindedly plucked a small twig from his hair—remnants of his sparring session with Krillin earlier in the morning, and Goku felt an unwelcome surge of heat in his neck.

Turning slightly to hide his blush, his gaze naturally fell upon their new home, built next to the flank of a tall mountain. A spring breeze persisting for days, had blown an abundance of flower petals into their yard, blanketing the grass in a fluffy layer of pink. According to Chichi, the cherry blossoms would paint the view from their kitchen every year from now on, as the month of March turned into April. Having shared the same roof for just a few days, Goku found himself already captivated by the depth of Chichi's knowledge on things that had never even crossed his mind before. Goku slightly turned to her, trying to catch the murmurs slipping from her lips over the rustling leaves. He gathered she was saying something about how this view was the perfect setting for the beginning of their new life together. Goku understood the words but didn't quite grasp what Chichi was actually saying. In fact, the whole concept of 'marriage' still left him bewildered, despite his participation in the wedding. He glanced down at their intertwined hands with a puzzled expression, uncertain why she had insisted on this gesture. Did this also come with 'marriage'? He now knew that 'husband' and 'wife' were supposed to have physical contact in the bedroom, but did this also extend throughout the day?

Suddenly, the voracious growl of a beast rumbled from his stomach, ruthlessly shattering the tranquility that had embraced the moment. Goku's cheeks reddened again as he apologetically rubbed the back of his head. “Oops, guess I'm getting hungry again, Chichi.”

Chichi frowned—she was still full from their heavy lunch, and the dishes weren't even dry yet. Goku seemed like a bottomless pit when it came to food, which burdened her with a lot of extra work, but she could never suppress a smile whenever Goku showed unease around his infinite hunger. “It's time to start dinner then.” Chichi seemed to relish the quiet stroll back home in the shared silence between them. Goku felt the need to say or do something, but had no idea what husbands were supposed to express to their wives in such moments as these. A little later, Goku effortlessly stacked a few sizable wooden crates on each other, his muscles flexing with the ease of a man who dedicated all his time to his training. Chichi observing from the doorway while the pots simmered behind her, couldn't help but worry, despite her inability to take her eyes off his bare muscular arms. She shook her head to dispel the indecent thoughts clouding her mind. "Goku, be careful! Those boxes are heavy, and I don't want you breaking my mother’s china," she admonished.

With a nonchalant grin, Goku assured her, "Don't worry, Chichi. I've lifted much heavier things during training." He was well aware that Chichi was likely just as capable of carrying everything into the house, but she had emphasized that it was more fitting for it to be a 'husband's job. Goku, in his typical fashion, gladly seized every opportunity with both hands to break a sweat. Wondering if Goku even knew what 'china' was, Chichi turned around with a huff, carrying a heap of towels inside. She could no longer tolerate looking at his careless conduct. Nevertheless, she was pleased her new husband was able to bring everything inside quickly. They had spent the past few days with the absolute bare minimum— getting by with just a bed and some kitchenware, because the remote location of their home had been challenging for the moving truck to reach. It didn’t take long before they had brought most of the belongings inside as Goku didn’t possess anything other than the shirt on his back and the boots on his feet. There was only some kitchen furniture left standing in the grass. While carrying their new dining chairs inside, Chichi gracefully managed two chairs stacked upon each other, and Goku haphazardly handled the rest. Peering around the mountain of furniture, he stole a glance at his new wife. He couldn’t ignore the warmth growing inside of him whenever he looked at her. The sensation resembled ki-generation whenever he powered up for battle, but it seemed more concentrated in his chest. The first time he experienced this feeling was an hour before what everybody had called ‘the ceremony’. In the white wedding dress, her radiance was akin to the silver twinkle on a stream’s surface... or a flock of white doves catching flight... or like the sweetest whipped cream he ever tasted. Seeing her like that tickled his insides in all sorts of funny ways and ever since he had tried to pinpoint exactly what it was about. He noticed it especially when she looked directly at him, and her large brown eyes radiated a warmth that reminded him of afternoon sun on freshly upturned soil. In the following days, as they settled into their new home, Goku carried this puzzle with him, determined to keep trying to figure it out. It was during one particular quiet evening that Goku was hit hard by this new and unfamiliar feeling. In the soft glow of the sun drooping into the horizon, Goku and Chichi found themselves sitting on their porch, surrounded by the delicate fragrance of cherry blossoms. It surprised Goku that although he wasn’t particularly fond of flora, he now paid attention to how the orange light tinted the blossom petals. Goku's eyes lingered on Chichi's profile as she spoke about her day, explaining where she had found the herbs she had incorporated into their last meal, detailing her explorations of the surroundings.

Even though Goku had exceptionally enjoyed her culinary skills—he had inhaled everything set out on the table in a matter of seconds, her words completely faded away in the presence of her beauty. That peculiar feeling suddenly hit him again, striking him like a bolt of lightning this time, and he blinked in surprise.

"Chichi, I... I think I'm feeling something strange," Goku admitted, his tone of voice just as confused as his expression.

Chichi turned to him. "What do you mean, Goku?"

"I don't know. It's like my heart is doing something funny when I'm around you.” Goku scratched his head, trying to make sense of these newfound emotions again. “Is that normal?"

Chichi chuckled, her laughter striking him right in the chest. "Goku, that sounds a lot like love. It's what married couples feel for one another, if all is well.

“Love?” Goku pondered the word, letting it roll off his tongue. He didn't know much about the love between a man and a woman, except for what he’d seen on Master Roshi’s television, but judging by the impractical clothing the ladies wore, that source of information didn't seem so reliable either. So far, the whole concept had been far outside of his world. That is, until recently. Could he have fallen into it without even realizing it? His eyes slid inquisitively over her features, willing her to elaborate. But she kept her mouth shut. Why did she often talk when he didn't care for it, but when he wanted her to speak, she remained tight-lipped? There was a certain gleam in her eyes that he wasn't used to seeing from her though. When getting into bed that evening, they engaged in that one thing they had done almost every night since their wedding. Whenever they shed their clothes and lay down on the mattress, it was almost as if Goku’s instincts seamlessly took over. His gaze, as though he was on the battlefield, focused on her with intensity. But instead of defeating her in martial arts, all he wanted was to feel her, kiss her, taste her, everywhere. To feel and be inside her. In the last few days, he had begun to grasp what he needed to do to bring out more of the delicious sounds she would make whenever he solely focused on her. With each added night of such intimate entanglements, he found himself drawn to her in more ways he didn't quite comprehend. He began noticing the subtle details—the way her hair fell whenever she turned her head, the softness of her touch whenever she plucked a fluff off his back, and the warmth of her smile whenever he joined her in the same room. She didn't laugh so often, but when she did, his day inexplicably brightened. Exactly ten days after their wedding, Chichihad convinced him to join her again in the orchard. She had told him that the Japanese cherry blossom tree bloomed for only two weeks, and she wanted to seize every opportunity to enjoy it. Despite Goku’s initial resistance—he was reluctant to interrupt his training, he harbored some curiosity about what she had in store for him.

They walked along a low-hanging tree, and Chichi reached out to pluck a small branch with flowers. She tucked it into her hair, behind her ears, and Goku found it strange that while he still didn’t particularly care for flowers, he found that this specific bloom complemented her beauty so well. He came to the realization that he wouldn't want to change anything about her.

As they strolled through their yard, and into the treeline, Goku absorbed the serene beauty of his wife and of the landscape, noting that even though by far most flowers had opened, there were still a few buds waiting to burst into full bloom. It suddenly struck him—just like these blossoms, his heart was in the process of opening up to Chichi, revealing layers he hadn't known were even there.

Goku abruptly halted mid-step. Sensing his absence next to her, Chichi pivoted, expecting her husband had dart off, perhaps in pursuit of another bird like last week. She spotted him standing still behind her, a different expression on his face than his usual sunny demeanor. As Goku approached her, a sudden breeze caused the cherry blossoms to rain down around them like confetti and Goku couldn't contain his feelings any longer. "Chichi, I think I've figured it out. I... I love you," Goku confessed. His eyes, for once, did not reflect his usual childlike enthusiasm but instead pooled with sincerity.

Chichi’s eyes widened before she broke out in that specific radiant smile he craved to coax out of her. "Goku, I love you too." She lifted her arms to cradle his head in her hands, flattening a few black strands with her fingertips, and gazed deep into his eyes for a moment. The moment froze in time and without the need for words, they both sensed that everything was just right. After blowing a falling pink petal from his brow, Chichi kissed her husband. As he felt her lips on his, the warm ball in his chest sprang to life again, this time expanding into a warm mixture of warmth and nervousness throughout his entire torso. Goku wrapped his arms around her waist, feeling the lean muscle beneath his fingertips through her dress. Being more confident that Chichi was experiencing the same kind of strange sensations he felt for her, he deepened the kiss, pulling her tighter against him. His body spontaneously came alive with her proximity up to the point that his heart tried to break through his ribs.

Before the wedding, he had thought marriage was a new type of exotic dish—or maybe something gross Bulma had cooked up in her lab. But it wasn't until ten days after their wedding day that he truly understood what it was all about: Chichi vowed to always be there for him, and he realized how incredibly lucky he was that someone wanted to spend a lifetime with him. This woman was even prepared to feed his perpetually hungry stomach to the point of satisfaction, no matter how difficult a task that proved to be. However, as their lives had further intertwined, Goku realized it was not about satisfying his stomach but his heart.

As the last few gold-orange streaks in the sky dissipated into the night, they embraced onto a tapestry of fallen petals, making Goku feel like he was part of something secret and special, a new chapter of his life beginning. As if guided by an unseen force, their embrace effortlessly moved into something more. When they made love under the canopy of pastel pink that night, the moon cast its spell over the orchard, their shadows dancing with the blossoms, creating a ballet of love that was almost surreal.

#gochi #goku x chichi #Goku fluff #Goku fanfics #Honeymoon #Secret Santa Dutch Discord #sonaevy #bananabluish #First ten days after their wedding

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