#and the stories they have told me about what their family has seen or experienced in ukraine is horrifying

[ernmark]

I apologize for derailing, but I recently had a very similar experience with reading The Strange Case of Doctor Jekyll and Mister Hyde as an adult (and specifically, as a queer adult who last read it as a teenager raised in a religiously conservative family).

In that story, Jekyll's transformation into Hyde loosens his inhibitions and dramatically changes his appearance, but it doesn't wipe his memories of the things that he does, and he seems to have Jekyll's same goals and knowledge.

And... we are never actually told what he does for the most part. The entirety of the story is framed as gossip shared by two of his contemporaries who see what happens from the outside. But they keep bringing up details that my younger self read as 'sinister' and my adult self is clocking entirely differently.

We're told he had a wild youth, but that in his later years as a bachelor he's a kind and respectable member of society. Upon his deathbed he confesses that he starts taking the Hyde serum deliberately, and then continues taking it because he wants to keep experiencing the things he's doing as Hyde without the repercussions falling back on him.

My younger self-- based on what I've seen in pretty much every adaptation since it was written-- assumed that 'the things he's doing as Hyde' were decidedly serial-killer-y.

As an adult, I asked myself if maybe he was gay. If he'd already suffered the repercussions of being too open about it in his youth, and being forced into the closet. And here he finds his salvation in the chance to go back out and live his authentic self while essentially shapeshifted, without the pressure of society and his reputation threatening to ruin his life.

In the original story, there are three acts of violence that Hyde is guilty of: in the first, he's marching through the street while distracted and runs into a little girl. He's distracted, clearly doesn't see her, and is cornered by a crowd of angry people and made to make reparations. It's an accident, albeit one he handles poorly.

(What is it that has him so distracted that he nearly tramples someone without noticing? My younger self read it as callous indifference, my older self has been around the block a few times.)

The second is a world apart-- he straight up murders a man in broad daylight, beating him so violently that the cane he uses for a bludgeon snaps under his effort. Not just a man, though, but a member of Parliament, who is well liked and highly respected. (And that detail, who he is, rings all too true for me, especially now. The story gives no indication about why Hyde pursued and violently murdered that man in particular. But given the laws in place at the time, and the people who would have been making speeches about them before voting on those laws, I could imagine. I can think of a few things that would push me to bludgeon a politician to death if I had a chance.)

The third is his suicide.

After the trampling, Jekyll stops taking the serum. He essentially puts Hyde back in the closet, with no intention of ever letting him out. But after that point, he's spent so much time as Hyde that he starts transforming again against his will, often in the middle of what else he was doing. Despite his best efforts, he keeps outing himself.

After the murder, he locks himself in his lab and desperately tries to come up with a 'cure' to stop his transformations, but repeatedly fails. He plans to take his life, but worries that he won't follow through when he's Hyde. By the end, he's left with a choice: to live the rest of his life as Hyde, facing the consequences of everything he has done and everything that he wants to do, or to die alone locked in that little room.

I don't necessarily think that any of the things I read into it now, as an adult, have any bearing on what Stevenson wrote. He was a contemporary of Wilde, and Wilde himself was far from the only queer author writing at the time, but that was far from the only reason why upper-class people would have had to conduct themselves with fear and secrecy in that time.

I think it does do a lot to make me infinitely more sympathetic of Jekyll-- and particularly of his choice to keep taking the serum after that first time. And that gives the story a lot more depth and dimension than I felt for it as a kid.

Rereading Dickens Christmas Carol for the first time in a long time. And the more I reread, the more it strikes me how seamlessly a queer reading could slip within these pages. Not an especially twee reading, wherein all Scrooge's troubles start and end with grief over Jacob Marley's death. For we know that Scrooge was a "Tight-fisted hand at the grindstone, Scrooge! a squeezing, wrenching, grasping, scraping, clutching, covetous, old sinner!" And we know that he and Marley were "two kindred spirits"

And perhaps that very fact makes the similarities to queer life, unintended as they most likely were by Mr. Dickens, achingly poignant to me. Scrooge is, we're told, "secret and self-contained and solitary as an oyster." How much that resonates, for so many of us who shield our innermost selves but from a select group of friends. And we know that Scrooge and Marley were, at the very least, certainly that for one another. Scrooge is Marley's sole mourner; his sole executor and beneficiary; and even Dickens notes, "friend." How reminiscent is that of queer couples across history, estranged from their families?

Scrooge lives in a set of chambers that once belonged to Marley—clearly Dickens wanted us to believe Scrooge gave up his own dwellings after Marley's death to economize. But with only a flicker of change, those chambers become _their chambers, rented by Marley as the senior member of the couple. The place is so desolate Dickens notes "one could scarcely help fancying it must have run there when it was a young house, playing at hide-and-seek with other houses, and have forgotten the way out again." The perfect abode for two queer misers who wanted no one prying into their business.

Marley's name is still above the door of Scrooge's counting-house: a mark by which, no doubt, Dickens meant to convey Scrooge such a penny-pincher he couldn't bother to have it changed. But a thing can be both! mark of frugality to ludicrous excess and! mark of mourning. "sometimes," Dickens opines, "People new to the

business called Scrooge Scrooge, and sometimes Marley, but he answered to both names. It was all the same to him."

This is why "death of the author" matters so much, in expanding our interpretations of texts. It is vastly far from the lens Dickens would have intended. But, the idea of a ghost of queerness, so taboo in the society it could barely be glanced at sidewise in this tale that is all about the inexplicable and yet that lingers over everything becomes an astonishing lens through which to read this book. Thinking of Scrooge as a queer man, his "melancholy dinner at his usual melancholy tavern" becomes a eerie prefiguring of the hollowness of days spent by Isherwood's A Single Man. In this universe, little wonder Scrooge doubly hates mention of time with family, marriage, etc. when the precise nature of his grief is both unacknowledged and unacknowledgable.

And readings like this are vital, because the uncomfortable truth is, discrimination doesn't "discriminate between sinners and saints", to borrow a Miranda phrase. It is easy, in my liberal circles, to fight for queer people who hold "the good sorts of politics". But what about men like Michael Hess, culpable for supporting Reagan even as his contemptuous homophobia let the aids epidemic run rampant? How much harder is it to remember Michael had a partner? That he deserves empathy and compassion for being practically tarred and feathered out of the party upon his own aids diagnosis?

Expanding our imaginative universes to include queerness, not as redemptive panacea, but merely as one aspect of identity, personality, often in vicious conflict with others. Even! as we consider those stories equally worthy of being told feels vital if we're ever to truly express the complexity of what queer humanity looks like.

[whenchickensfly]

"1.6 million Ukrainians have been forcibly deported to Russia by the Russian Army. They go through “filtration camps” where families are often separated and then sent as far as Siberia. Those found disloyal to Russia are imprisoned, tortured, and often summarily executed. Over 5 million Ukrainians have also voluntarily fled into Europe, and 7 million are internally displaced in Ukraine."

Genocide Watch on Ukraine

[asongoficeandfiresource]

Meta: A Tale of Three Daenerys’

An element of authenticity George R. R. Martin adds to the ASOIAF universe is the repetition of names. The same names appear repeatedly within specific cultures and the spread and popularity of certain names is used to illustrate how one culture has influenced another. Just look at the wide popularity of Targaryen names throughout Westeros, especially Alysanne.

With Daenerys Targaryen, GRRM has created two other characters with her name, so far: Daenerys, daughter of Aegon IV and Naerys, and Daenerys, daughter of Alysanne and Jaehaerys I. Both of these characters seem to be used to lay the groundwork for elements of the canon era Daenerys’ story and character arc.

Daenerys, the Retconned Princess

In The World of Ice and Fire, Jaehaerys I and Alysanne do not have a daughter named Daenerys. In fact, in the main series, Daenerys of Dorne is referred to as the first. But with the release of Fire and Blood Vol 1, Martin restructured the birth order of Jaehaerys and Alysanne’s children, which included not just reshuffling, but also removing and adding children. One of those additions was Princess Daenerys, who took the place of Alyssa as the second born child and oldest daughter of the family.

So the question is, why did Martin retcon TWOIAF just to add a new Daenerys? Part of the reason is likely to flesh out the reign of Jaehaerys and Alysanne with more information and loss. But why name her Daenerys and not Rhaenys after their grandmother or any other name? There is a wealth of Targaryen names Martin could have given this new child, but he chose Daenerys, the name of one of his main five characters in the core series. He likely made that choice to give additional foreshadowing for the canon era character.

At first glance, the two Daenerys’ don’t have much in common with Jaehaerys and Alysanne’s daughter being born into a stable family and kingdom as their oldest living child who grew into a confident girl but died young, while our Dany was born an orphan and an exile, and grew up constantly afraid, gaining confidence and strength in her teens. In that way, they are narrative foils. But where the foreshadowing comes in is with how Alysanne views her daughter.

Based on a combination of moments in Fire and Blood, there is a possibility that Alysanne had the gift of foresight, like other Targaryens in the series. For some unexplained reason, Alysanne is very insistent on Daenerys becoming queen after her father. This is strange because equal primogeniture is not the norm in their culture. Visenya did not become queen regnant, her younger brother Aegon became king. Rhaena did not become queen regnant, her two younger brothers and uncle became kings, though Aegon the Uncrowned was only a claimant. What’s more, Alysanne never pushes for Rhaena’s rights over Jaehaerys’. But she does push for Daenerys’ rights over her son’s. Why? Because she knows Daenerys will be a great queen:

[Princess Daenerys] so enchanted Alysanne that for a time Her Grace even began to eschew council sessions, preferring to spend her days playing with her daughter and reading her the stories that her own mother had once read to her. “She is so clever, she will be reading to me before long,” she told the king. “She is going to be a great queen, I know it.” – Fire and Blood

This is a rare issue where Alysanne is certain about something, but turns out to be wrong, since her daughter dies before having the opportunity to become queen regnant. It is very possible that Alysanne’s certainty over her daughter’s future and Martin’s purpose for retconning this child into existence was to foreshadow Dany’s eventual position as Queen of Westeros. Often with prophetic visions, they can be misunderstood by the person experiencing them as seen with Daeron the Drunken and Daemon II Blackfyre in the Dunk and Egg novellas. While both of their dreams came true, they happened very differently than what they initially believed. So the great queen named Daenerys who Alysanne might have seen wasn’t her daughter but her distant descendant.

Daenerys of Dorne

The Princess Daenerys who married Maron Martell was initially mentioned in passing in a Dunk and Egg novella, The Sworn Sword, but wasn’t named in the text until A Dance With Dragons where her connection to both the series era Dany and Martell family was emphasized. She is cited by Davos as the person Dany was named after and is the source of the Targaryen blood that gives Quentyn the belief that he can tame one of the dragons. She is also the reason the Water Gardens were built and through that palace was able to impact every generation of Dornish children after her.

Unlike the previous Daenerys, there are quite a few parallels between Daenerys of Dorne and the canon era Dany. They were both the products of extremely unhappy and abusive marriages. They each had significant age gaps between them and their siblings, with their older brother having reached adulthood and had a child or children of his own by the time of their birth. Their brothers married them to men outside of their culture. While Dany was exchanged for the promise of an army to take back Westeros, Princess Daenerys’s marriage was part of a treaty that united Dorne with the rest of Westeros. Both women marry for duty despite loving other men. Each of them are particularly protective and caring toward children. They also look beyond the social status of individuals and see that everyone is equally worthy of protection and a quality life.

While Dany pushes for freedom and justice in Slaver’s Bay, Princess Daenerys used her position in Dorne to benefit children regardless of class:

“Beautiful and peaceful,” the prince said. “Cool breezes, sparkling water, and the laughter of children. The Water Gardens are my favorite place in this world, ser. One of my ancestors had them built to please his Targaryen bride and free her from the dust and heat of Sunspear. Daenerys was her name. She was sister to King Daeron the Good, and it was her marriage that made Dorne part of the Seven Kingdoms. The whole realm knew that the girl loved Daeron’s bastard brother Daemon Blackfyre, and was loved by him in turn, but the king was wise enough to see that the good of thousands must come before the desires of two, even if those two were dear to him. It was Daenerys who filled the gardens with laughing children. Her own children at the start, but later the sons and daughters of lords and landed knights were brought in to be companions to the boys and girls of princely blood. And one summer’s day when it was scorching hot, she took pity on the children of her grooms and cooks and serving men and invited them to use the pools and fountains too, a tradition that has endured till this day."

——

"I told the story to Ser Balon, but not all of it. As the children splashed in the pools, Daenerys watched from amongst the orange trees, and a realization came to her. She could not tell the highborn from the low. Naked, they were only children. All innocent, all vulnerable, all deserving of long life, love, protection. ‘There is your realm,’ she told her son and heir, 'remember them, in everything you do.’ My own mother said those same words to me when I was old enough to leave the pools. It is an easy thing for a prince to call the spears, but in the end the children pay the price. For their sake, the wise prince will wage no war without good cause, nor any war he cannot hope to win.– ADWD

It might seem like a simple thing to allow a large amount of commoner children to partake in privileges alongside highborn and royal children, but this is hugely significant since it allows children of higher stations to form positive relationships with children of lower classes. The rest of Westeros does this at a far smaller degree, but usually at the convenience of the highborn. This act essentially put all of the children who stay at the Water Gardens on equal footing, even temporarily so they can all see that at their core, they are all made the same. This allows the royalty and nobility to empathize with commoners which will impact the choices that will impact everyone. Princess Daenerys’ impact on the ruling family kept Dorne mostly out of the War of the Five Kings, meaning that while the common people of nearly every region have been slaughtered and abused in the conflict, only one Dornishman has died so far, Oberyn Martell, a prince in full control of his actions rather than thousands of commoners ordered onto the battlefield.

Even though Dany is still a queen at war in the series, there are similarities between her motivation and choices. As noted above, both Daenerys’ have a weakness for children. Princess Daenerys fills the Water Gardens with “laughing children”. Dany wishes to do the same:

I want to make my kingdom beautiful, to fill it with fat men and pretty maids and laughing children. – ACOK

But more than that dream, when it comes to children Dany shows she is willing to take direct action to protect and avenge them. When the slavers of Meereen murder slave children and taunt Dany by mounting their bodies on milepost, Dany made sure to see them herself: "I will see every one, and count them, and look upon their faces. And I will remember.” (ASOS) Then she avenged them by killing the exact number of slavers in the same way the children were killed. Even when she doubts whether she did the right thing, she insists it was done for the children. Then, when Drogon kills a child, Hazzea, Dany tries to chain all of her dragons so that never happens again, though she only manages to capture two of the three. Despite the fact that she considers the dragons to be her own children, it only takes the death of one child to push her to imprison them, showing just how much she prioritizes the lives of these people. Even when it comes to the children of the slavers, Dany refuses to harm them regardless of what crimes the adult slaver commit:

Dany had grown fond of her young charges. Some were shy and some were bold, some sweet and some sullen, but all were innocent. – ADWD

Where the strongest parallel comes into play is with the way both Daenerys’ realize that there is no fundamental difference between people of different social classes since they are the same when brought down to their bare essentials:

On another island two lovers kissed in the shade of tall green trees, with no more shame than Dothraki at a wedding. Without clothing, [Dany] could not tell if they were slave or free. – ASOS

--

As the children splashed in the pools, Daenerys watched from amongst the orange trees, and a realization came to her. She could not tell the highborn from the low. Naked, they were only children. All innocent, all vulnerable, all deserving of long life, love, protection. – ADWD

The only thing that separates the highborn from the low or the free and the enslaved are societal restrictions. Since there are no natural physical differences between people of different ranks in society, that means they are all deserving of freedom and good lives. While Princess Daenerys acted upon this realization to effect change through the inclusion of all children from different walks of life into the Water Gardens, Dany fights for the freedom of slaves and allows freedmen places of power in her government and gives them a voice at court alongside people who were born free. Here are just a few of the many examples of Dany attempting to establish equality for the freedmen:

Reznak would have summoned another tokar next, but Dany insisted that he call upon a freedman. Thereafter she alternated between the former masters and the former slaves. – ADWD

--

Rylona Rhee had played the harp as sweetly as the Maiden. When she had been a slave in Yunkai, she had played for every highborn family in the city. In Meereen she had become a leader amongst the Yunkish freedmen, their voice in Dany’s councils. – ADWD

--

“The freedmen work too cheaply, Magnificence,” Reznak said. “Some call themselves journeymen, or even masters, titles that belong by rights only to the craftsmen of the guilds. The masons and the bricklayers do respectfully petition Your Worship to uphold their ancient rights and customs.”

“The freedmen work cheaply because they are hungry,” Dany pointed out. “If I forbid them to carve stone or lay bricks, the chandlers, the weavers, and the goldsmiths will soon be at my gates asking that they be excluded from those trades as well.” She considered a moment. “Let it be written that henceforth only guild members shall be permitted to name themselves journeymen or masters … provided the guilds open their rolls to any freedman who can demonstrate the requisite skills.” – ADWD

Princess Daenerys also helped to cement a permanent peace between House Targaryen and House Martell with her marriage uniting Westeros. That combined with the tradition of creating a closer bond between people of different classes and the continued caution on thinking of the people while making decisions that will affect them, she continues her legacy of peace. Our Dany also keeps the people who choose to follow her at the forefront of her thoughts with every decision she makes. She too wishes for peace and takes action to achieve that, even at her own detriment.

“Peace is my desire. You say that you can help me end the nightly slaughter in my streets. I say do it. Put an end to this shadow war, my lord. That is your quest. Give me ninety days and ninety nights without a murder, and I will know that you are worthy of a throne. Can you do that?” - Daenerys IV ADWD

--

She thought of Doreah, of Quaro, of Eroeh … of a little girl she had never met, whose name had been Hazzea. Better a few should die in the pit than thousands at the gates. This is the price of peace, I pay it willingly. If I look back, I am lost. - Daenerys VIII ADWD

--

Like all good queens she put her people first—else she would never have wed Hizdahr zo Loraq—but the girl in her still yearned for poetry, passion, and laughter. – ADWD

Conclusion

While the three Daenerys’ don’t have anything close to similar lives, each of the Daenerys’ of the past seem to intentionally have call backs or call forwards to the series era Dany. Both of them seem to foreshadow Dany’s current and future storylines with pushes for social progress and her future as the reigning Queen of Westeros. So far, Martin has included only three characters with this name, but with the positive change Dany is bringing to Essos and will bring to Westeros when she helps save the world from the Others, it would only be natural for the name to grow in popularity.

[cheolaholic]

ring of love; csc (05)

summary; agreeing to join vernon spectate an underground boxing match wasn't how you'd expect to spend your friday night. you also didn't expect to see seungcheol, someone you've lost contact with for years, become a part of the ring.

modern! au • boxer! au • hhu focused • multiple kinds of tropes • fluff, angst, smut

a/n;; omg, i'm alive????? jkjk, work's been piling up lately and i'm honestly drained by the time I get back home so I couldn't do much writing or even qc the draft before yoinking them into a tumblr draft 💀 but anyways, hope yall enjoy this chapter !! uri boo makes a small little cameo in this chapter :D a part of the angst in this fic has also arrived, pls be prepared (it’s not that heavy tho).

You were 15 when you experienced your first ‘heartbreak’. Though, you call it a ‘heartbreak’ solely because it was a “for the lack of a better word” situation. A week before summer break, your parents had announced that the three of you would be flying off to Jeju to visit your grandparents.

You adore your grandparents, and they adore you just as much. Before you started middle school, you remember constantly flying off to Jeju, or even taking the ferry, to visit them every holiday and school break possible. Even during the initial stage of your move to the small town, your parents had sent you off to your grandparents as they sorted out the heavier parts.

Your grandparents had brought you to the beach, taught you how to make kimchi and even brought you to one of the fireworks shows during your stay. But, when you started middle school and were bombarded by a shit ton of schoolwork, you weren’t able to visit them as often.

So, you were ecstatic when your parents announced the Jeju trip. Both Aki and Seungcheol could see the excitement and happiness in your eyes as you told them about your plans.

Aki asking you questions about Jeju while Seungcheol listens to both of you with a small smile on his face. “how long will you be there, pup?” he asks, cheek leaning against the palm of his hand.

“Uhm… I think maybe for two weeks? I’m not really sure… Dad did ask mom if she wanted me to tag along with them to London afterwards…”

“Oh? What are they gonna be doing in London?”

“They have a business meeting that lasts at least two days. But, they decided to stay back a week for a mini vacation.”

“Do you want to go?” Aki asks as she pops a piece of strawberry into her mouth, stealing a glance at Seungcheol, noticing the way his shoulders are slumped at the mention of you thinking of joining your parents overseas.

Dude looks like a puppy not wanting its owner to leave it alone… she thought to herself, finding the scene in front of her amusing.

“Well, whether or not you want to join your parents, I’m sure you’ll enjoy yourself regardless!” she spoke.

“Take good care of yourself, pup,” Seungcheol added as he reached out a hand and patted your head, sending a faint blush spreading across your cheeks and a teasing smile on Aki’s lips, “If you ever need anything, call me, okay?”

“Or me!”

The older male rolled his eyes at Aki’s words, smiling when you nod your head.

“Seungkwannie!” you squealed out in happiness as you ran up to your cousin who was standing out at the gates of your grandparent's house, engulfing him in a big hug. “I can’t believe you’re here! Mom and Dad said that you’d be in Biyangdo!”

“And miss out on the chance to spend time with my favourite cousin? Never!” Seungkwan proclaimed as he pecked your cheek. “I haven’t seen you in years, ___! There’s no way I’d pass off the opportunity to spend time with you while you’re here!”

Seungkwan is your cousin from your mom’s side of the family. Before the age of 5, you don’t remember much about meeting Seungkwan other than the stories both your parents would tell you over family dinners. For example, when you asked them about the scar Seungkwan had on his chest, his dad said you were the one that left it on him. They proceeded to tell the story of how you had scratched Seungkwan because he had refused to let you watch Pocoyo on tv when both of you were just 3.

Or when his mom would ask you if you remembered Seungkwan hiding in the closet to scare you, but you ended up crying because you had thought he went home. So, instead of scaring you, he came out of the closet and both your parents found the two of you cuddled up on the floor the next morning

After Seungkwan helped you and your parents move the luggage into your grandparent’s home, Both of you sat on the porch, drinking the lemonade your grandmother had prepared. “How’re you, aunt and uncle doing?” he asks, “I heard from Uncle Lee that you’re starting high school soon! probably in a few months, right?”

“Things have been the same, besides the whole mom and dad having to go overseas occasionally and I had to stay with either Aki or Seungcheol.”

“Speaking of Seungcheol, how’s that little crush of yours on him going?” Seungkwan asked with a teasing smile, nudging your sides, “Ever thought of telling him before he graduates? There’s a chance he might head off to the big cities or even abroad for college.”

You were silent for a moment.

You have thought about telling Seungcheol your feelings, but you never thought about the timing. Now that his graduation is nearing, you still haven’t told him. As you were still stuck in your thoughts, Seungkwan places a hand on your shoulder, “Well, whatever happens, I wish you happiness.“

“You say that as if I’m leaving you forever.”

“Hey, let me be sentimental!”

Just as you rolled your eyes, you felt your phone vibrate - you had gotten a text from Aki.

aki: did you make it to Jeju safe? ___ bestie <3: yeap! ___ bestie <3: i’m with my cousin rn ___ bestie <3: [sent an attachment] aki: ooh, he’s cute ___ bestie <3: want me to introduce you? aki: gurl aki: don’t try to matchmake me when you’re struggling to tell Seungcheol about how you feel aki: and besides aki: your cousin is cute, but he’s not my type ___ bestie <3: wow ___ bestie <3: you really just did me dirty aki: i’m just saying ___ aki: better tell him before you lose the chance aki: besides your romantic struggles aki: have fun and take lots of pictures! aki: can’t wait to see them when you get back <3 ___ bestie <3: i will!

“Are you gonna stay here with grandma and grandpa while Aunt and Uncle Lee fly out to London?” Seungkwan asks as you set down your phone, refilling his glass of lemonade. You shrugged, still debating on whether or not you wanted to join your parents. “I’m honestly stuck in between… On one hand, I want to see what other countries are like. On the other, I haven’t seen grandma and grandpa in years…”

Your mother who was on her way to give you both a plate of strawberries overheard the conversation and tried her best to help you with your indecisiveness. “___, sweetie,” she began as she set the plate on the wooden porch floor, “you can always travel in the future when you’re all grown up.”

“That sounds like you just want her to stay here in Jeju so you and uncle can enjoy yourselves without her presence,” Seungkwan teased, earning a forehead flick from your mother.

“Well, she’ll be in your care too, Seungkwan. I hope I won’t return to a sassy, diva daughter after leaving her here with you.”

Seungkwan gasps dramatically, placing a hand over his chest at your mother’s statement. “Aunt Lee, I’m hurt and offended.”

“You’re just further proving my point, Seungkwan.”

“Hey, the sass could end up helping her in the future!”

cheollie: hey, pup cheollie: mom said you and your parents made it to Jeju safely cheollie: how are you feeling? cheollie: did you get motion sickness during the flight? cheollie: did you eat dinner yet? sweet pup: ehh, the motion sickness wasn’t that bad sweet pup: grandma made lemonade :D sweet pup: and yes, i ate dinner! sweet pup: grandpa grilled some mackerel sweet pup: [sent an attachment] sweet pup: and look at how fat the strawberries are :0 sweet pup: [sent an attachment] cheollie: wow cheollie: those look good cheollie: hey, do you think it’s alright if we have a call? sweet pup: like, right now? cheollie: yea sweet pup: oh sweet pup: um, let me head out to the porch cheollie: take your time, pup

As you quietly exited the room you were staying in and out onto the porch, you picked up Seungcheol’s incoming call, feeling the butterflies in your stomach intensify when you heard his deep, “Hey, pup.”

“Hi, Cheollie! Have you had your dinner?” you asked, getting a small hum as a response. “Dad got a deal with a big client so he bought steak for us. Mom also cooked calamari.”

“Wow, it must’ve tasted amazing…”

“Yeah, it was. But, tell me about your dinner, ___. I’m sure you had more than just grilled mackerel.” Seungcheol chuckled, a blush spreading across your cheeks as you mentally cussed at how the older male still has an effect on you despite being 2 hours away and talking to you through a phone.

“Well… Mom made raw crabs and seafood soup!”

“Looks like my little puppy is eating well... That’s good.”

“Is there another reason you wanted to call, Cheollie?”

There was a moment of silence on the other end, making you slightly anxious. You hear a faint rustling, thinking he must be lying on his bed as he’s talking to you. A sigh was heard before Seungcheol told you his motive for calling you - and to say it had you on the floor was an understatement.

No, this man had you envisioning a future with him.

“I miss you.”

When you didn't respond, Seungcheol got worried, calling out your name on the other end while you remained stunned at his confession.

“U-uhm, yeah?”

“Did that make you uncomfortable, pup?”

“No, no, it just… It just caught me by surprise…”

You hear Seungcheol chuckle, and more rustling can be heard before he speaks again. “Well, I’m used to having you around me, twenty-four seven, ___. It feels weird when you’re not.”

“I’ll be back in two weeks, Cheollie. You’re being dramatic!”

Maybe he was, the older male thought to himself. But, he pushes that thought to the back of his head as he finally tells you the real reason he’s calling you.

“My parents are thinking of bringing me to Seoul this weekend to check out a few unis… I just thought that I’d let you know since, y’know… I’m graduating soon…”

Your heart sank at the mention of him graduating. You knew it was bound to happen - you even told yourself to not be too sad when he does end up moving out of Daegu for college. But, to hear it coming from Seungcheol himself, the reality hit harder.

“Oh… Well, I’m happy for you!” you tried your best to hide the sadness in your voice, though he still picked it up. “Pup, I’m not going away forever. You’ll still see me when I come back during breaks and when you leave for college, you can come over to Seoul, too!” he assures you, chuckling to himself as he continues, “Maybe our parents might even have us share an apartment so I can watch over you.”

Humming, you stared up into the sky, mesmerised by the stars that were scattered along the blanket of the night sky.

“___?”

“Yea…?”

“Remember what I taught you during our taekwondo sessions?”

“What about it?”

“Don’t forget how to use them, okay? Can’t have my little puppy all defenceless now, can I?”

you bit your lip as Seungcheol went on with his words, how he wished he could stay in Daegu longer so he could spend more time with you. How he wanted to explore the bigger city in Daegu with you (where he implies it being just two of you and without Aki who would often nag at him for having a bad taste in things).

“I’m gonna miss you…” you muttered quietly, not knowing how or what else you were supposed to say. You weren’t going to tell him about your feelings, that’s for sure. but, a part of you wished you could.

Who knows? Maybe you both could end up being something.

“It’s getting late, pup. you must be tired from the flight and settling in. Goodnight, ___.”

“Goodnight, Cheollie…”

When the call ended, you stared at the screen of your phone, a million thoughts racing through your head. You couldn’t put a finger on it, but you had a sinking feeling in your stomach. perhaps you were overthinking the whole situation or something wrong was bound to happen. Whatever it was, you quietly got back into your room and crawled into bed.

Something didn’t feel right.

It was the weekend Seungcheol was due to head to Seoul to have a look at the city and attend a few of the education fairs - and not once, had you gotten a single message from him.

In fact, in the days leading up to that weekend, he had been quiet too. His replies were either short, took too long or there weren’t any replies at all.

It makes you feel uneasy.

“Still no updates from loverboy?” Seungkwan asks, glancing over your shoulder and peeking at your phone, seeing the wall of texts about how the past few days have gone down for you. When you sulkingly shake your head, Seungkwan’s heart aches as he sees his favourite cousin down in the dumps.

“Hey,” he calls out in a gentle tone, throwing an arm around your shoulder and pulling you close. “Maybe he’s just caught up with those college things. Sooner or later he’s bound to update you, right? Besides, you should be busy having fun here in Jeju!”

Looking at your phone one last time, you shoved it back into your pocket and let Seungkwan drag you to a food street, saying how they added more delicious treats since the last time you visited.

By evening, there was still no news about or from Seungcheol. You’ve tried calling him multiple times, but they all end up going to voicemail. It was starting to affect you and your parents began to take notice, but decided to not question it for fear of triggering an episode. After dinner, you decided to call Aki in an attempt to get some form of comfort.

“I just don’t understand, Aki,” you told her, “I texted him, even called him but I got nothing! What if something bad happened to him?”

“Hey now, you’re probably overthinking things. He might just be sorting those uni documents out - you know how lengthy and taxing they can be. Maybe, he’s just tired and needs some rest!”

“You think so?”

“It’s just a guess, ___. whatever it is, I’m sure it isn’t anything serious.”

Oh, how you wished it really wasn’t anything serious.

When the time came to send your parents off at the airport for their trip to London, you had sent a message to Seungcheol and yet again, you got no response. One thing you came to realise in recent years, was how big of an over-thinker you are. It was something you hated and while your family, Seungcheol and Aki have done whatever they can to help you lessen your overthinking, that still doesn’t stop it from creeping up on you from time to time.

Seungkwan does his best to cheer you up. Bringing you to more food streets, a maze field, and even the seaside to take your mind off of Seungcheol but alas, it was as if Seungcheol had taken over your mind just like the virus in ‘The Last of Us’. One evening as you sat on the sand of the beach, staring off into the horizon, Seungkwan came up and sat next to you.

“I know this might not sound nice, but you can’t let something like Seungcheol not responding to you ruin your trip, ___. Sure, it’s upsetting having someone you’ve known for years and care for go ghost on you, but it’s kind of… pathetic, to let it ruin what could be a fun summer vacation.”

As much as those words hurt you, Seungkwan was right.

You hadn’t seen your family that lived in Jeju for years and now that you can, you’re letting something like your crush not responding to you ruin it. “Then, what should I do, Kwannie…?” you asked, wiping the tears that were starting to stream down your face, “I don’t wanna leave Jeju knowing I didn’t get to spend time with you and our grandparents…”

“How about you try calling him only once? If he doesn’t pick up, we’ll forget about it and move on, okay?”

You give it a thought, minutes passing by before you pick up your phone and dial Seungcheol’s number, placing it near your ear.

“We’re sorry, the number you have dialled cannot be reached.”

Seungkwan noticed your body shaking as you redialled the number, your breathing starting to grow shallow.

“We’re sorry, the number you have dialled cannot be reached.”

“___?” Seungkwan calls out, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. When you began to cry, he pulled you into a hug, rubbing your back as you cried your heart out. “Shhh, it’s okay, ____. it’s okay.”

When you got back to Daegu, your heart dropped at the sight of the empty house next to yours. the entire house looked as if it were fully emptied (which it was) - the potted plants Mrs. Choi had displayed on the gates were nowhere to be seen, the shoes that were neatly arranged on the shoe rack weren’t there anymore, and the Choi’s family car wasn’t parked in its usual place.

“I guess they must’ve moved since Seungcheol is going to start college soon…” your mother tells your father who hums in response as he unloads the luggage from the trunk of the taxi. When she notices the sadness and tears in your eyes, she immediately starts comforting you.”Oh, sweetie… Does it upset you that much?”

“I… I couldn’t even say goodbye to him…” you sobbed out, “I couldn’t even see him one last time before he left…”

“Oh, princess…” your father coos after bidding the taxi driver goodbye, hugging you tight as your mother does the same, “I’m sure he feels sad for not being able to do the same, hmm?”

“Will… Will I… Will I be able to see him again?” you asked through hiccuped sobs, wiping your tears away as more kept spilling. Your mother nods, giving you a pat on the head. “I'm sure you will, honey.”

“He said he’s thinking of joining University of Pledis, right?” your father asked, a small smile on his face when you nod, “Then, you just need to study hard and get in there too! That way, you can finally be reunited with prince charming!”

despite your tears, you still manage to laugh at your dad’s tease. “Dad!”

“Ah-ah, don’t think we didn’t know about your little crush on Seungcheol, ___.” he responded, chuckling as he gave your arm an assuring squeeze.

“Whatever the future has in store, I’m sure the two of you will meet again.”

taglist (unable to tag a few ㅠㅠ)

@yoonclip @1004luvangel @catjunhui @mystikha @spk93 @tinkerbell460 @yoozuku @dnylwoo @christinewithluv @limbomoon @plutoxxxworld @i-give-up-1234 @m1ngyuc0re @yunloyal @leclercloverbot @bettybeako @billboard-singer @ocyeanicc @krupyadoorrahe @seobinnieshi @xcynthiaaa @k411z @disneyprincesshuri @sunnyapp @khxsh @staygenezy @loufi8iepuff @ursweetener @noisypapergalaxy @wonwootakemyheart @sugainpinksweater @leah-rose03 @thisisnotthelastofus @yearnoclock @kwonhoeshi @minhui896 @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @ru-lin @deobiforever @belladaises @cheoliekkuma @duskunt1ldawn @hyneyedfiz @marshmallowshouse @ak6ko @chwevernonlover @jejuboo-s @tsukinluv @atinytinaa @gyros-cum-sock @soupbinlily @jungwoos-luvr @ener-energy @watermelon-sugars-things @cyberpunkhwx @ddaengpotate @nightwingsrobbinhoods @chaerrylov3r @joshuaahong @wonussmile @uliceeeeeeee @wonwoo24 @shinetogether17 @simplejihoon @luvkpopp

[makeyoumine69]

Till Death Do Us Part Masterlist 🪓 | Patrick Bateman x Innocent!Fem!Reader Series

— PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x Innocent!Fem!Reader; [no y/n]

— SYNOPSIS: 1987. Your name is Rebecca Rice, you were born in Houston, Texas, but then your family moved to New York City in hopes of a better life. And it really paid off, as your father became successful in business and made several important acquisitions—the Bateman family being one of them. You and Patrick have known each other since childhood, but you have never liked each other. A golden boy from day one, he despised you because you were not as rich as he was. Fortunately, you parted ways after high school and have seen each other several times over the years, as your mother has a good relationship with Mrs. Bateman. At some point, you even thought that your teenage crush on Patrick had faded and you finally managed to build relationships with another guy, but sadly, it didn't work out because your family didn't accept him. Just like they didn't like your choice of career, but you didn't care because you always wanted to work in the medical field and help people, being a nurse was really tough. The hardest times came when one day your mother told you that in order to help your father you had to marry Patrick Bateman and you had no other choice because you didn't even know what was behind this deal, but you promised yourself that one day you would find the answers to all your questions. If you survived this marriage, of course. For it was obvious that sooner or later everyone would expect you to bring an heir into this world. The world of corruption and sin.

— CONTAINS: SMUT, ARRANGED MARRIAGE, enemies to lovers dynamics, dark explicit sexual content, drugging, breeding, misogyny, degradation, objectification, etc.

— A/N: This is my secret writing project that I've been working on all this time with one of my good friends. I couldn't stop thinking about the concept of an arranged marriage since I wrote Obsession. So I decided to make an experiment and write a story with a reader, but without y/n, who has an established background and name. I hope it works out and you will enjoy experiencing this story through Rebecca's eyes!

Amazing cover by @iron-flavored-lipgloss!💋

Chapter one — 02/07/2024

Chapter two — 05/07/2024

Chapter three — 10/07/2024

Chapter four — 13/07/2024

Chapter five — 24/07/2024

Chapter six — 03/08/2024

Chapter seven — 05/08/2024

Chapter eight — 09/08/2024

Chapter nine

Chapter ten

Related songs:

Kim Wilde — You Keep Me Hangin’ On

 Stevie Nicks — Edge of Seventeen

 Britney Spears — Criminal

Stevie Wonder—Part-Time Lover

Sade—Smooth Operator

Roxette—Listen to Your Heart

Laura Branigan—Self Control

Modern Talking—Cheri Cheri Lady

Pet Shop Boys—It’s a Sin

Miley Cyrus—Gimme What I Want

Pastel Ghost—Shadows (Slowed Version)

Britney Spears—Break The Ice

Katy Perry—E.T.

Madonna—Like a Prayer

Cascada—Everytime We Touch (Acoustic)

Thank you for your time!🖤✌

[howaheartbreaks]

Tried to write this on reddit but the post was too long and thought I’d throw my hand in the tumblr ring:

My interpretation on why Colin’s arc this season matters so much to me.

The benefit and the curse to this season is that to understand the full story arc of Colin and Penelope you have to watch all three seasons. I feel like they could have been more blatant in the text and given them more scenes in part 1 to completely flesh this out and remind the viewer what they’ve been through, but this is all in the text (past seasons) and subtext up until the carriage speech.

Season 1 Colin is romantic and naive. He becomes infatuated with Marina almost at first sight and still probably believes in fairy tale romances. Marina herself says that Colin is eager and does not guard his affections. Anthony has his duties as head of the family, Benedict has his bohemian pursuits, both of them are known flirts and rakes, frequenting brothels often and having had a world of experience. It’s implied that Colin is a virgin and when he proposes to Marina, Anthony scolds him for his naivety and suggests he should have been taken to brothels to be a man and “wet his wick” as if he were experienced, he wouldn’t be so hasty to marry someone he didn’t know. Colin doubles down in his commitment to Marina which then ends in tragedy when it’s revealed she’s pregnant. He understandably falls into depression as he had chosen a purpose (to be a loyal husband in love) and he had gotten screwed over due to his naivety. Colin also has a bit of hero complex, which we can see multiple times throughout season 1 such as when he dances with Pen after Cressida spills her drink. In his duty and loyalness, he confesses that he would have married Marina if she had told him the truth. Colin is very loyal and very protective of those he loves and he sees his value in how he can help and protect others, and having them need him. He makes the decision to do the thing he always wanted to do, travel, as Pen kept reminding him, as a way to become literally, more worldly.

Colin returns in season 2 and finds that people aren’t that interested in his travels nor did they particularly miss him while he was gone, the exception of which was of course Pen. He tries to speak to his family and gets shut down. He feels isolated once more and then also realises he still doesn’t have a sense of purpose, nor does anyone need him. It’s implied he is still sensitive because despite travelling, Colin is still not the man the ton expects him to be. He visits Marina in some naive hope, and she basically tells him to grow up and move on with his life. Penelope and he have a lovely conversation about purpose. He looks into various pursuits and then as we know he gets to be the hero again when he discovered Jack Featherington is swindling the ton and saves the Featheringtons. But Colin is still beheld to the expectations of the ton and when the men are finally paying atttention to him at the ball, he says he would never court Penelope in an attempt to fit in, even though we’ve all just clearly witnessed him go out of his way to save her.

Colin leaves again, and this time he vows to be a changed man. He sleeps around, “grows up”, learns how to be charming and finally when he returns is he warmly greeted by all the women and the men as the ton finally recognises him as a man. Anthony and Benedict clap him on the back, the ladies fawn over him, and men like Fife and Cho engage with him in a way we haven’t seen since he told them he wouldn’t court Penelope. He plays aloof with stories of his travels because he knows the mystery makes people more intrigued than when he told them everything (telling his family he doesn’t remember how many cities he’s been to, and then telling Pen it’s 17 because he knows the answer), and in some cases he is still not comfortable or willing to share personal details of his sexual exploits because he’s still a romantic at heart. Colin feels like he’s nailed it.

Except. He hasn’t. It’s only surface level. The cracks first emerge when he approaches Penelope at the debutante showing, going out of his way to find her (as he always does). She seems closed off and has not written to him all summer. Previously she was the ONLY one to engage him, and probably the only one he could be himself with. Yet that one connection has completely gone. This is pure speculation and unlikely to ever be confirmed, but without Pen’s correspondence it may have even been a catalyst for him to change himself/seduce women. You can tell he’s nervous approaching her, even with his new aesthetic, which he himself remarks are only clothes. She’s closed off and basically dismisses him, probably leaving him feeling a bit stupid. He sees her glow up at the ball (:o) and while he does not approach her but continues to watch her, he runs after her immediately when she runs out, in care for her wellbeing and also because he knows the conversation he is having with the lords is super shallow. She dismisses him again, and then tells him it was his grave error in trying to fit in that made him lose his one deep connection. And then he vows IMMEDIATELY to make amends, calling upon her the next day to make it right. It is his first real and honest conversation. He tells her charm can be taught (he’s faking it), that he seeks her out because she lifts his spirits (he never looks happy in a public setting unless he is with her) and that hers is the one person whose opinion matters the most.

So:

1. Colin was a naive romantic who felt like he had to conform to the approved of society

2. He is faking his true personality (shown in his heartfelt conversation with Pen, how despite everything he seeks her out and values her the most, that he lies about how many cities he’s been to just to seem cooler)

3. He is fighting against societal expectations

4. At this stage he’s still trying to have it all - the women, his family’s approval, the ton’s approval and Pen’s approval.

He goes home and is furious with Lady Whistledown because she has called out his obvious ruse, and he is upset that what he is trying to fake is so obvious.

Episode 2 rolls around and he doesn’t do much except follow her around and fawn after her. His new interests have started to fade immediately as soon as he starts speaking with Pen again. He tells her to be herself and act like they did when they were kids - which is hilarious, considering Colin has attempted to change everything about himself to NOT be himself and NOT act like an adult (the irony Colin is not aware of). It’s her compliments of his writing and his eyes that make him flustered. He entertains women and men at gatherings, but is always looking for her and physically not pleased when she speaks to other men. He laughs with her (honestly, first moment of pure childhood glee for him and he makes a pun which was reminiscent of earlier seasons Colin). He runs after her again and emotionally argues with Eloise, because damn the ton it’s Pen he cares about (my poor sweet boy). He’s so loyal and protective of her. He doesn’t even attempt to dance with anyone at these parties. Hes so distraught she could be suffering that he goes immediately to her, damn the rules of society, and agrees to kiss her and even tries to keep going before she leaves. Because he finally realises that his feelings for Pen are romantic, that it’s not just friendship that he seeks, but a true romantic relationship with his best friend.

He’s awkward and cute as he approaches her the next day, which is the complete opposite of how he’s been trying to act - she is making him act like his former self, his true self. She tells him they should keep their distance and he reluctantly puts on the armour again.

But, Colin actually lasts for like a day before he realises he will go crazy if he does not confess his feelings to Penelope and the entire facade that his has created has completely crumbled by this point - the obsessed boy is BACK. He stops talking to the women in the ton, expresses 0 interest in sex with the prostitutes, entertains a drink with the other lords before going off at them for how shallow and meaningless and fake they all are, and then commits several social faux pas pursuing Pen because he doesn’t care about anything except her anymore.

His confession in the carriage is the culmination of all of this. He’s tried to feel less (because he was too sensitive), he’s tried to grow up (and be a man), he’s tried to flirt and be a rake (because he was too green), and he’s tried to fight against expectations (Penelope not being desirable) but what is the point because all he wants and his entire happiness is centred around Penelope and if she rejected him or married Debling he would have nothing left.

Colin Bridgerton does not care anymore because he is #1 loyal obsessed protective boy and he will go through heaven and earth for Penelope and I love him so much for it.

[lu-is-not-ok]

Any particular thoughts on Fanghunt Hong Lu?

Yes, one very specific thought in fact.

Fanghunt Hong Lu is the most violent Hong Lu ID we have had thus far, being one that not only revels in violence like Tingtang Hong Lu or Hook Hong Lu, but also one that is actively shown torturing his victims in some genuinely stomach churning ways.

He is also the one Hong Lu ID which, while mentioning his Family, is one that doubts the very nature of what a family even is the most clearly.

This, to me, highlights a very noticeable pattern among Hong Lu's IDs.

When a Hong Lu ID is shown to be actively under his Family's control, he's either completely uninterested in violence (such as Liu) or so bored with the role he's forced into that violence is the only way he's able to push back against that boredom (K Corp and W Corp).

On the other hand, a Hong Lu ID that seems to be heavily disconnected from his Family is often one that is actively enjoying the violence he inflicts and is notably kind of fucking unhinged (Tingtang and Hook).

Fanghunt Hong Lu adds another nuance to that spectrum, being an ID that still has contact with his Family, but one who isn't specifically in a position chosen by them and who is led to doubting what a family even is by his experiences.

He shows us a possible outcome of a Hong Lu who has to actually reckon with reality and doubt what he knows about his circumstances, and the results are not pretty. After all, like I said earlier, Fanghunt Hong Lu is the most violent and most hate-filled Hong Lu we've seen up to now. He pulls out a guy's fucking teeth one by one for fuck's sake.

...And this made me think a bit. We actually have quite a few Hong Lu IDs with a Wrath Sin Affinity by now. However, Fanghunt Hong Lu is only the second we have with a Wrath Skill 3. The other one being, of course, Liu Hong Lu.

Both Hong Lu IDs with a Wrath Skill 3 seem to be to some extent aware of something being wrong regarding their Family, in very different ways that lead them into reacting to it very differently.

Liu Hong Lu seems to be aware of the fact he has no real control over what happens when he's under his Family's watchful eye, leading him into being the least violent Hong Lu of them all. He's aware of what his Family is doing to him, but he's unaware of it being abnormal.

On the other hand, Fanghunt Hong Lu seems to be unaware of the specific horrors of his Family. Rather, he's become aware that Family itself is a concept that he can't quite understand. He's seen Bloodfiends who abandon their previous families to be with their new Bloodfiend families, and it's a point of focus for him. What even is a real family?

...This, I think, is where Liu and Fanghunt Hong Lu differ the most. Liu Hong Lu knows he's being hurt, but he doesn't see any way out, that it's just how things are supposed to be, so he simply tries to live through it.

Meanwhile, though Fanghunt Hong Lu doesn't have that piece of the puzzle, he does have a different one - the seed of an idea that he could escape. Proof that one's "Real" Family doesn't have to remain their only family. He just doesn't yet realize what he'd want to escape from, so he channels the feelings he's experiencing because of that information against the immediate source of it. Instead of using that idea to free himself, he directs his anger towards those that actually tried it and succeeded.

I don't mean to keep pushing my "Hong Lu will go apeshit in Canto 8" idea, but like... The more info we get about him, the more likely that possibility becomes. After all, Fanghunt Hong Lu is a clear example of the fact that a Hong Lu aware of an escape route from one's Family could become extremely violent. That added onto the potential of Lorenzo's story told by the Priest being a parallel to Hong Lu, and the fact that the Sapling of Light Hong Lu is likely going to parallel is Chesed... It's all a lot.

[shannonsketches]

Rewatching Battle of the Gods and mAN. If you're ever scrolling my dbTag and going 'Sketches, what do you mean Toei does the same plot but completely changes the story, that makes no sense.' I'm talking about Character-Driven Storytelling. And the difference between Toriyama's Character-Driven Story and Toei's Plot-Driven Story is Most Glaring in comparing Super's movies and the anime retellings of Super's movies, because the screenplays for the last four movies were written by Toriyama, and obviously the show was not.

I saw BotG back first when it came out, before the anime was released, and The Point Of It was that it was the very first Dragon Ball story in which Goku failed and Vegeta was left in the position of The Protagonist, due to all of the growth he experienced in DBZ (Beerus in this movie takes Goku down immediately, and does not compliment him at all. King Kai, in this movie, has nothing rude to say about Vegeta and just warns him not to engage with Beerus because Goku just tried and lost, which freaks Vegeta out). So even while Goku still is the guy who gets to fight Beerus in the end, the majority of the movie is about Vegeta's efforts to not have a fight at all.

Like this is the Whole Thesis of Super (as Toriyama wrote it). Vegeta is being handed the mantle of Earth's Guardian (because as Piccolo points out later, he was a Prince and is becoming nostalgic as he gets older (as so many do), so his role is slowly coming full circle back to a proud inherited leadership position, which Goku has no interest in.)

You may have seen me complain about Vegeta and Bulma's dynamic being weird and bad in the anime despite them having been married for ~12 years by this point.

That's because the reason for and the dialogue from when Vegeta gets to the party was completely revised. In the show, Vegeta goes because Bulma yelled at him.

In the movie, he is still wearing his armor because he left training and went straight to the party with the Express Purpose of keeping everyone safe. Bulma not only knew Vegeta was training and expected would be there eventually, but also immediately recognizes something is wrong when he does finally arrive, because he is still wearing his armor, and she notes that him being broody like this is, by this point, unusual.

His behavior is, of course, is because he because he is trying to sense Beerus -- who he has just been told would destroy the Earth if anyone engaged with him. The game of the whole movie becomes Vegeta acting Completely Insane and throwing his pride aside to make sure everyone is safe, because protecting Earth and his family has become his top priority.

His frustration isn't because he finds her or any of the Z Fighters annoying. It's because he is trying to manage a problem that he can't tell anyone about, for fear that the other fighters will get involved and try and solve the problem -- especially if they learn this man's harmed Goku -- and Vegeta knows their good intentions will only make matters worse.

His outburst is because Bulma is (two glasses of champagne into her day and) trying to talk to him while he's trying to concentrate on locating this massive incoming threat he can't find. And what's more is that his raising his voice to Bulma is a shock to everyone.

Including Bulma.

Because the point is he is not normally like this.

And even though Vegeta can't sense Beerus' ki, he knows when Beerus is present, because he is suddenly terrified.

And then the gag becomes that Beerus speaks to Vegeta only, and Vegeta doesn't yet remember exactly who Beerus is or what he looks like, so he looks Completely Insane trying to find him,

When Vegeta does finally find Beerus, he immediately remembers who he is and treats him with the utmost respect, because he understands how Heirarchy works (this is completely changed in the anime, and turned into an attempted fight, for some reason).

Because he will not tell anybody what's going on, who Beerus is, or why he's there, because the risk is JUST too high, he just plays along with Bulma's assumption that they're friends of his. Which means Bulma (who is absolutely plastered) happily invites them to come party with everyone, leaving Vegeta the incredibly comedic task of running context-free interference for the universe's most temperamental god while the most fight-minded people on the planet are getting drunk.

Toei loves pretending Vegeta can't interact with people in a normal way, but Toriyama loved reminding the class that Vegeta is a seasoned professional with 25+ years in a semi-corporate military force who can and regularly does behave as one.

The whole bit of this arc is Vegeta being so scared of his planet and his family being destroyed (again) that he is willing to sacrifice his pride to herd a cat, because Dragon Ball has always been a comedy and Toei is so bad at remembering it's a comedy

I will also die mad that in the anime Gotenks fights first, when in the movie Trunks (as he has before) got involved when he saw Beerus beat his dad, and Vegeta begged him not to fight. Gotenks getting spanked (literally and figuratively) by Beerus is also what got Vegeta back on his feet.

Then there's this (y'all when I tell you someone at Toei fucking hates Vegeta,,)

For context, in the anime Beerus compliments Goku and insults Vegeta. Surprisingly no one, in the movie it is The Opposite. Beerus never says a bad word about Vegeta (and doesn't say anything to Goku after their first fight), and compliments his fighting instincts. And that's before Bulma gets hit.

In the anime, Vegeta can't do anything to Beerus, who drags him for like two minutes straight. Then he walks away from Vegeta, who cannot bring himself to stand, and takes his aim.

In the movie, Vegeta gets back up when Gotenks is knocked down, compliments Beerus, and accepts that the gap is too wide between them. Beerus decides it's time to be done here and charges directly at Vegeta.

Vegeta does not defend himself, does not dodge, does not flinch, and does not break eye contact. Then he says it might be an honor to be killed by Beerus (complimenting Beerus) (where in the anime he says it might be a proud way to go (complimenting himself)), and is ready to die on his feet.

(note: He doesn't say anything about pride, because his actions speak for him, as is very commonly the case with Toriyama's Vegeta, whose pride is loudest in his quiet confidence, not in his insecure outbursts).

The other major difference I absolutely hate in the anime is that for some reason they decided Beerus hitting Bulma was a long, drawn out, dramatic thing.

In the anime almost a full minute passes between her hitting him and him hitting her back. She hits him first, then lectures him, then the rest of that time is spent cutting between Beerus winding up and Vegeta reacting to him winding up, despite The Rest of the Party standing Right There and anyone could've easily pulled her away (Piccolo, for example, is unharmed and standing, and is literally like ten feet from where it happens. He has expanding limbs. Non-Issue of Moving Bulma).

NO. [spray bottle sounds] BAD WRITING.

The point of that moment, in the movie, is that it's a 'blink and you'll miss it' moment. THREE SECONDS pass between the moment she strikes Beerus and the moment he hits back. Vegeta only has time to be shocked that Bulma slapped him, because Beerus' rebuttal happens So Quickly, absolutely no one could've reacted fast enough to stop it. And even if it had been more drawn out -- because Vegeta had Beerus follow him away from the party to fight so that nobody else got hurt, Gotenks and Bulma both end up following him out there, and while everyone else stayed back and watched, nobody was close enough to stop it.

The point of that moment is to be Shocking. There is no wind up, there's no drama, there's not even a music cue. It is Completely Unexpected, for the characters and the audience alike, and that's why Vegeta has such an extreme reaction. He had No Time to brace himself for what was about to go down and No Time to change it.

This is another scene that was fully About Vegeta that Toei made About Someone Else (Beerus), changing the shot to a group shot of his power up and immediately having Beerus block all of the attacks, where Toriyama said, "Vegeta's strength scared the SHIT out of Beerus for a hot sec"

And if you've been following along in my vent tags about why Toei's writing is so bad and what they constantly center everything around, you can probably guess why the premise for this movie was changed so dramatically. But if you're new here, it's this:

It's because Vegeta's SSJ1 could do what Goku's SSJ3 couldn't.

And Vegeta didn't even notice, because he is not Trying to beat Goku. After his own fight and until he shows back up, Goku's probably only mentioned twice, because this ain't about him. Vegeta's not even really trying to beat Beerus here. He's not trying to prove anything. It's not about power or pride or saiyans or being the best, it's PURELY about protecting the people (specifically in this instance, the woman) he loves. ALL of which become the theme of, "Vegeta you are stupid powerful when you can stop overthinking everything."

But that's not allowed in Toei's writing room, nO SIR!!!

Bonus Part 1: Someone at Toei Hates Vegeta part 41238712: The episode About Vegeta's Response to Bulma Getting Hurt is basically titled 'Yay, Goku's Back', because despite stretching this 1hr45m movie out into 14 Episodes, the one that is about Vegeta surpassing Goku (in the movie) and fighting to defend his wife of Over a Decade is a five minute fight scene followed by twelve minutes of Oolong's two minute rock-paper-scissor gag.

What was the fight scene, you may ask??? Instead of having Vegeta know he's not strong enough and still stand in Beerus' way, for Beerus to say 'chill out, I told you it's over' and tap Geets on the forehead to knock him out cold, like the movie --

They decide to have Vegeta just stop trying mid-fight, have Beerus tell him he's too weak to be a threat, then add that he had more fun fighting Goku before knocking Vegeta on the chin and having him land on his back fully conscious.

God I hate Toei's writing aksldjlaskdalkj

Bonus Part 2: That thing Vegeta spent the entire movie trying to avoid telling his wife because it would've scared the shit out her and ruined her party, scares the shit out of her and definitely would've ruined her party.

Crazy that he knew that and did everything in his power to keep it from becoming her problem. He treats her like she's his wife or something ahahaha 🔪 toei 🔪 hahaha

anyway if you figure you've seen the anime so you don't need to watch the movies cause they're basically the same no they're not they're only the same in terms of Basic Plot Points, PLEASE do yourself and your writing skills a favor and watch the movies

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 69 (More Spooky Party Time!)

With the party still going strong, Conrad greeted Bella with a smile. "Mrs. Goth, thanks for coming."

"I love a good Spooky Day party. Thanks for the invitation."

"I wanted to apologize for how uptight I was the day Heather went...travelling in your attic."

"Grimmie told me you two called him for a chat. I'd say I hate to say I told you so, but I don't hate to say it at all."

"I'm coming around to some of these ideas you think are completely normal, but-"

"There's nothing normal about them, and that's what interests me."

Conrad smiled. "All my life I've been smacked by reality, but that night at your seance table was the first time I've ever really experienced the paranormal. It freaked me out."

"Have you never even seen a ghost?"

He shook his head. "Just Heather's cat. I mean, thinking I hear them is another story..."

Bella eyed him sympathetically. "You don't have to wait for the Ambrosia Society to send you back to see the mentors, you know. You could always go on your own, if you're curious. I haven't put the table away in the attic yet, and it's always nice when you and Heather come by."

"Thanks Mrs. Goth. I'll think about it."

"Anytime, Detective Gordon. My paranormal exploration days are long past me, but the world beyond our own is full of strange mysteries I believe should be shared. Anything you want to know, all you need to do is ask." She smiled, taking a cookie as she stood from the table. She passed Heather on her way to the living room. "Wonderful party, dear. And your costume is fabulous!"

Heather grabbed a plate of leftover spaghetti with 'Dulce sauce' (her second that same day!) and joined Conrad and her parents at the kitchen table. "River told us what you two went through recently," her mother said. "We just wanted to let you both know we're sorry."

"It's okay, Mrs. Nesbitt. We've been to a grief counselor and I've really made a lot of progress on some things I've dealt with since the deaths of my parents. Heather's a lot stronger than me."

"I never had to go through what you went through. My parents did, though. When my mother was seven, her grandmother died and she grew up in foster care."

"Have you ever wondered about them?" asked Conrad. "What they might have done, had they lived?"

Daisy nodded. "When I was younger, absolutely. But then I met Neal and we had four amazing kids, and I wasn't looking for my family anymore. I had them."

Neal smiled at his wife. "Our life together has been pretty fantastic. Now we've got grandkids and in-laws coming out of our ears, and I found my brother again. I never thought I could have all this when my parents died."

"I love the way that sounds, and I want that," he said. Heather listened, waiting for the but. This time, he stopped short, and they both smiled.

Guests finally began to leave around one in the morning. Hazel and Nicola fell asleep upstairs, and Conrad fell asleep quickly in the bedroom, but Heather tidied a few dishes and summoned Grim again.

They met outside under a clear sky full of stars. "When he talked about having a family tonight, he didn't say he wasn't ready. I don't want to assume what it does mean, but I think he's working through his parents' death and I wanted to thank you for helping us this morning."

"You're welcome. Do you know how many people have bothered to summon me just to say thank you? Putting on all these robes and chains is a pain in my hollow neck, but it's worth it just to hear a bit of gratitude."

"Bella Goth was right about you, Grim. I'm sure we'll be seeing each other again soon, and not for any reaping."

Grim gave a respectful nod before slamming his white staff to the dirt and disappearing out of sight. Heather showered and got into bed, snuggling close and waking Conrad from a light sleep. "I know I'm out of uniform, but if you still need me to deliver your mail..."

Heather grinned, capping off a successful party with Conrad under their brand new bedcovers, identical to the ones that burned earlier that day. ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 1 Summary | Gen 1 Start

[cuddl3s4shur1]

•𝐎𝐁𝐒𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒•

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Earth 42 Miles x F! Y/N

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟏: 𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐎𝐖𝐍, 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐎:Miles owns a business to help with his job as The prowler, he gets a new assistant thats trying to end his marriage .

𝐀/𝐍: I was scrolling on tiktok and let’s just say , I got some inspiration. Lowkey got bored towards the end also it dosent have the much spanish which is ny fault

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆:Cussing,Spanish might be a little choppy ( blame google) IM TRYING YALL IM TRYING For the story HE US AGED UP

Inspired by : Obsessed-Movie and Some random TikTok I saw .

You were at home relaxing ,I mean you couldn’t do that much sense you were 6 months pregnant.

You are waiting fir your husband to come home . You haven’t seen him all day since he goes to work so early.

You hear keys jingle at the door , who could it be…. It’s your husband. He smiles as he sees you getting up to greet him. “. ¿Cómo está mi mamá bebé descalza? (Hows my barefoot baby mama going )“ he jokes to you . “Im doing well baby daddy “ you joke back to him.

“ Cómo te fué en el trabajo ( how did it go at work)“ you ask him as you penguin walk to the couch.

“it was good but rico is on a family vaction, así que tengo que contratar temporalmente a alguien( So I have to hire someone temporarily)“ he tells you

“ok well you know , contratar a alguien que sepa hacer el trabajo (hire someone who knows how to do the job)“ you tell him.

he nods and heads to the bedroom as he stsrt to undo his tye.

You continue to relax , the baby starts to kick your stomach “baby come get your daughter “ you laugh .

“ Qué está haciendo ella ahora(What is she doing now)“ he asks , he walks out of the bedroom in sweatpants and a tank top and sits on the couch next to you .

“Digamos que le gusta patear (Let’s just say she likes to kick)” you say . “Sound like she might like track , cross country or soccer “ he says “I’m thinking soccer, she kicks really hard “ Yall both laugh.

“I need a break from work, you know how i said we are temoraroy hiring people“ he asks you . “Yes babe“ he tells you . “Hiring today was horrible I don’t think people was reading the qualifications for this job like at all “ he tells you , you start to chuckle.

“What happened,” you ask him .

“So this guy comes in , he sits down so I’m like “do you have any experience with research and finance “

So he like “to be honest no, mi mamá dijo que están contratando y no me quiere en su sótano (my mom mama said they hiring and she tired of me living in her basement )“

so I’m like dang ok . “Do you have any experience with cleaning because we have a janitor job” I tell him

“yeah my moms she made me clean and wash dishes , she made me wash the floor and the walls“ he told me

“Ok , I’ll contact you in two weeks to let you know about the  janitor job” I told him

“Yo man thanks “ he said then he walked out .

“Baby , that man was so honest” he says he also made me want to laugh.

“That was definitely something“ you tell him

“I'm going to start with our dinner, tonight we are having chicken with rice “ he says and smiles . “Yum” you tell him

“Voy a ser chef’to(I’m going to be a chef) “ he laughs

“Mhm, tengo mi propio Gordon Ramsey( Mhm , I got my own Gordon Ramsey )you joke

“No no, Soy mejor que eso(I’m better than that)he says .

“oh is that so ,Yo seré el juez de eso(I’ll be the judge of that) “ you tell him.

“Cariño, recibí una llamada del tío( Baby I got a call from uncle), he probably talking about business “ he says . “That’s fine you can answer “ you tell him.

Miles starts talking with his uncle , basically talking about business and other stuff . You usually work him , since you guys are duo “Mrs. Prowler and Mr. Prowler. From then till now , you have experienced all of that job has for offer and you don’t have want that while your pregnant.

He hangs up the phone and really starts cooking . “Baby I got an assistant “ he smiles . “Uncle Aaron chose her and the assistant starts tomorrow “ he says . “That’s good that means you don’t have to worry about hiring “ you say

“Yup and that’s what I like ,Estoy de vuelta en el negocio, cariño(Im back in business baby). “ he says you smile.

“Alright business man how’s the cooking going “ you ask him .

“My bad , ill start now ,No puedo matarte de hambre (I can't starve you) “ he jokes

“At least you know “ you told him.

He cooked and you guys would eat dinner together .

But little did miles know that tommorow he got an assitant from ....

Hell

𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @not-aya @html-nae @khamanix

[crash-and-cure]

Been a Thorn in the Side of Man (Yandere!Elvis x Reader)

Summary: In her twenty years of the business, Jimena’s seen just about the worst Hollywood has to offer. However all of that failed to prepare her for the likes of Elvis Presley. 

A/N: Yikes on bikes, this took alot longer than I was expecting. I would like to personally thank @stylespresleyhearted ​ for keeping me motivated to write and allowing me to bounce ideas off her and on top of all of that making the beautiful mood board above. I was just able to release this on my birthday so there's that lol. Based off of this request.

Warnings: Yandere!Elvis so expect themes of obsessive, manipulative, jealous, and delusional behavior. Dubious Consent in regards to coersion being involved. Explicit sexual content depicted that includes Penetrative sex (m/f), oral sex (f.recieving), doggy style and mating press, and not to mention huge breeding kink on his part. BIG TRIGGER Warning for some suicidal ideation on his part. Loss of family members. Drug overdose. Mentions of Pregnancy. Self-loathing. Probably more that I am blanking on. Please do not interact if you are under 18. 

Word Count: I’m gonna be honest, stopped counting  after 30K (don’t judge me)

Then 

There’s an odd sense of calm once one officially accepts that they’re alone in the world. It’s easier in a way to accept that no one will ever truly look out for her, than it is to have to face the earth-shattering disappointment that is having believed for a moment that someone would. 

These are the thoughts going through her head as Jimi slowly folded her daily copy of the Excelsior. 

Most women would be violently mad after having read what she just did, but it was almost a relief to finally have an answer to why he has really been so absent in her life these last few months. It’s not like it should be surprising to her really, this town having shown her for years what it thinks about women like her: Seductive, temptress, exotic, temperamental, alluring… disposable.

It’s a story told time and time again in Los Angeles. Orson Welles and Dolores Huerta, Gary Cooper and Lupe Velez, and now Elvis Presely and Jimena Perez can be added to those ranks of doomed romances. 

I’d rather kiss three black women than a single Mexican woman, those are the words that ring within Jimenas head as she sits at her little breakfast table, though for what it’s worth it is nothing less than a deliberate action. As masochistic as it sounds she truly believes it’s for the better should she ever get to thinking this situation is in any way fixable. 

But even still as she stares unblinkingly at the plain wall of her just recently occupied home, she is a little confused as to why her vision gets cloudy. It takes her a moment to comprehend that she’s crying, something that she so rarely does these days anymore. 

And to think this is all over some musician.

She’ll never forget the first time she met him in person, all the standard camera and makeup testing that comes from early production. She’s far from the most experienced makeup assistant at Paramount, but in their words she’s the only makeup girl they trust to “behave” around him. Having grown up in the business, Jimena’s all but lost her ability to be starstruck by anybody really, so they’re not too far off in this notion. 

As they were explaining the whole purpose of this to the relatively green actor, she looked at him with a critical eye, examining his features, comparing it to other actors she had already worked on in the past, and trying to recall how best to highlight them on screen. 

He catches her looking at him and he shoots her a wicked smile, but where other girls would’ve gotten embarrassed at being caught staring she only redoubles her efforts now that she’s got a better look at his face, arguably staring even harder at him. In a funny turn of events he’s the one that looks away bashfully as though she were the one that caught him looking. 

While her official production title is as the resident makeup artist, she’s personally worked almost every job there is to have on a set save for actually sitting in the big chair and directing. Lights, costuming, talent wrangling, she’s seen and done just about all of it. She had been working behind the scenes since she was 14, where with a little bit of makeup trickery, she was not only able to convince everybody that she was an adult, but that she was the new hire. This would eventually give way to getting actually hired, as they simply trusted the fact given she was already on the lot. 

And somewhere between watching Dorothy Gale throw up in her own purse and seeing Rhett Butler remove his own teeth, did the whole concept of Hollywood movie magic well and truly die in her mind. 

Drugs, drinks, boys, girls, and every other vice to be had, Jimena’s seen even the most clean cut of stars fall into at least one category or another. So when she got the news she was gonna be on a project with him of all people, she had thought she had well and truly prepared for anything this man could throw her way. 

But when she actually gets a good up-close look at him, she starts to get that sinking feeling in her stomach. Not for anything he did or how he looked, but the way he acted. She heard his stuttering words and felt his soft cheeks in her hands, and there was only one thought in her head throughout the whole process. 

Pobrecito they’re gonna eat you alive.

All her years in this business, she’s got a pretty good grasp when people are being genuine or not. And he’s perhaps the most genuine person she had ever encountered. Wide-eyed bumpkin from down south was hardly new, but there was just something about Elvis Presley that made it a tinge more tragic than it would be normally. 

She barely spoke that first meeting, the higher ups weren’t that interested in her words these days, nor did he really try to initiate anymore conversation with the way his mouth was gaping at her. Hardly a new experience, but admittedly a little less unwelcome coming from him. 

So it took her by surprise the first day of shooting when he said “I didn’t get the pleasure of catchin’ your name last time,” he said with a grin as she set down her make-up kit. 

She’s quick to recover with a “Because I didn’t give it.” 

He gives a short huff at that before insisting once again since after all, she’s gonna be around him for the next ten or so weeks. 

“You can call me Jimi,” she says, barely sparing him a glance in favor of looking over the notes of what today’s scene will call for. 

“That really your name sweetheart?” which is not unfair to ask. It wasn’t her first choice, but it is the one that distanced her the most from her old stage name. 

“White people can’t pronounce it,” she justified as she tied her hair up with her favorite red bandana. “So I don’t bother with it here.” It’s sort of the truth, and that’s usually enough to get even the more obnoxiously “nice” ones off her back. 

“Well I’m willing to give it a shot,” he says amiably, apparently up for the challenge that she presents. 

She takes his chin in her hands and with a soft smile on her lips, and while he’s blushing up a storm she looks down at him and says a simple “No.”

He’s taken aback both by her words and the sudden spray of water from the bottle in her hand. She could’ve given a cursory warning to him but she has to remind herself that this entire situation works best when actors are indifferent towards her. 

It’s for the best, she tells herself. The less you say about yourself, the better, she wants nothing more than to keep her Mena and Nena days far in the past. 

Though it soon became clear that it wasn’t meant to be. 

“Y’know…” he starts off as he’s looking at her in the mirror. “Ya kinda look like that one girl, uhh what’s her name.” He says snapping his fingers trying to force him to remember even though you know for a fact who he’s talking about. “Elena Somethin’.” 

“Elena Leon?” she sighs, knowing already where this is going.

“That’s the one,” he would say, snapping his fingers in recognition. “Though, ‘tween the two of ya’, I think you’re the prettier one.”

“Hmm…” she answers, pursing her lips and practically shutting down as he quickly changes the subject to how excited he is to be working on another movie set. She didn’t engage much after that outside of the occasional hum of acknowledgement, until he eventually gave-up and would forlornly read his script. 

That wouldn’t stop him the next day from telling her about how his dumbass cousin made him late this morning and all the antics they get up to back in Memphis.

Or the next when he asked if Pink’s was actually any good or if it’s all just hype.

So on and so forth for the next few days as he would try to get her to talk to him again. 

She had been determined to just treat him like any other actor she had worked with, and just do her job, but then she saw him getting really cozy with a certain girl on set. Now on-set flings are par for the course on any production, and literally anyone else she wouldn’t have batted an eye, but she knows for a fact that that one is known to be dangerous. Well she’s not so dangerous, but her husband is. 

“Stay away from her,” she would whisper to him one day as she applied some eyeshadow trying to imitate a black eye.

“So you do speak,” he says, cracking an eye open, a triumphant smile on his face as though he’s won some great victory over her. 

“Yes, so listen to me,” she counters, her eyes boring into his to show him how serious she is. 

“Why do you care so much darlin’?” he asks, quirking an eyebrow, a small smile on his lips, still apparently not taking her seriously.

“My job is to keep you pretty for the cameras,” she states, in as matter of fact as she can manage. “You’re going to make that a lot harder if you don’t listen to me, and her husband beats the shit out of you.” 

“She’s married?” he asked, astonished that he could miss such a thing. “M-my manager said she could get me some good roles, that her Daddy is some big-time producer” he argues back. 

“Yes,” Jimena clarifies. “Her husband, who she calls daddy, can get you one very high paying role, and that’s only if you let him watch. If your manager didn’t know this, he’s a dumbass.” 

“Let him watch what?” he asks, confused. Her pursed lips, refusal to meet his eyes, and following silence speaks volumes, as his own cobalt eyes go comically wide as to what she was implying. “Her husband?” he says, and she gives him a small affirmative nod. “And he watches?” A raise of her brows as her eyes slide away from him just reaffirms this unorthodox situation. “So… Wait a second… does he or does he not like it when she’s with other men?” 

“Both,” she states, adding the finishing touches to her work. “He likes to watch and after that he beats the shit out of the boy in question.” And even though she’s pretty secure in the fact that no one is listening in, she still gets close to him to whisper this last part into his ear. “It’s apparently the only way he can get it up anymore.”

The fact that she sees his ears go bright red from just that little tidbit of information just really goes to show how green he still is in regards to how things work in this town. 

“How d’ya know all this?” he asks, more than a little disturbed now.

Not to brag but she regards herself as a wealth of information on the comings and goings of the Hollywood elite. Close enough to the action to overhear everything but low enough in the pecking order that most assume she’s incapable of doing anything about it. 

But this is basic information that even the lowliest of extras were privy to, so you can’t fathom how a man with a near meteoric rise to stardom wouldn’t know this. 

“Are you kidding?” she would in turn ask him. “Everybody knows.”

“Wait if everybody knows then why doesn’t anyone put a stop to it?” he asks, trying to find logic in a city not exactly known for it. 

“Because the only thing more powerful than secrets in this town is money, and he’s got a lot to keep everyone quiet.” 

Besides it’s only a matter of time before something gives in that tragedy waiting to happen. From all the whisperings Jimena’s been hearing, the girl in question has been keeping some rendezvous’ secret from her husband and more or less bragging that there’s no prenup in place. While he in turn has turned his eyes to some pretty little barely legal extra, he’s also very Catholic, doesn’t believe in divorce, and has rumored connections to the mob. 

Not even a week later did she hear whisperings that the very same producer had quickly sold all his stock in Paramount and decided to retire to the French Riviera with his wife seemingly overnight though there are conflicting reports as to whether or not she was seen at the airport. Coincidentally no one has seen hide nor hair from the last lowly actor she was seen running around with. 

Usually she kept her mouth shut about the dirtier details of an incident of this magnitude, but she couldn't help herself when she let him know the full extent as to the bullet he had dodged. 

“That's why you don’t get involved with fixers wives,” she says simply as she grabs the spray bottle for his hair, a little more secure in the knowledge that he isn’t so green anymore.

“Fixers?” he asks, and she laughs initially thinking he’s pretending to not know as is the custom when somebody on the outside asks about them. But then she sees he’s not laughing along with her, and his confusion is genuine.

“You are not kidding are you?” she asks incredulously, truly hoping that this man is not so naive. 

“Can’t say that I am,” he replies.  

Now she has two options, mind her own business and let this boy sink or swim on his own, or enlighten him to the dark underbelly of what it takes to make it in this town. Jimena had spent the last few years keeping her ear to the ground and gathering as much information as she could to one day be able to leverage it to help one person specifically… but that person hasn’t wanted much to do with her lately. 

Still she finds herself leaning more into the staying in her lane option, that is until his wide ocean blue eyes turn towards her, and she feels like a monster for the thought. 

“Well everybody around here has a job, and it’s to make movies that make money. Your job is to make the studio look good on and off screen so people spend money to see these movies,” she says as she runs a comb through his hair. “And when you fuck that up, it’s the fixers job to cover it up.” 

“When?” he repeated, clearly a little offended. 

“Yes, when,” she clarified. “Get caught with a boy, get caught holding something you’re not supposed to, get a mistress pregnant, get a ‘social’ disease, or hell, even find yourself with a dead body on your hands, you just gotta call the right producer and they make it all disappear.” She knows she’s being pretty blunt with the subject but she has been in the business pretty much right out of the womb, so she’s seen some of the worst shit this town has to offer. 

Over the next few weeks she does her best to let him in on the need to know knowledge that is necessary to survive not just in Paramount, but in Hollywood as a whole. 

“If you work with John, he’ll call you a communist for stirring your coffee the wrong way so I would avoid him. Canter’s is actually the place you want to go to for great food, Pink’s is just okay. Gable’s breath smells like death, but he will bury you if you ever mention it. Umm…” she says trying to recall any other helpful advice, though stops when she sees his overwhelmed expression. “Am I going too fast?”

He quickly schools his expression, back into one a more affable look, “Nothin’ you gotta worry ‘bout darlin’”

She is not buying it though.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, unwilling to believe his dismissal. He clammed up even more and looked straight into the mirror until she sat herself right in front of him, crossed your arms, raised an eyebrow, and gave him a look telling him she wasn't about to drop this. 

It’s a bit of a standoff until he eventually lets out a long breath and looks out the window to the awaiting set outside of his trailer, “I don’t know Jimi…” he sighs. “Guess I’m just feelin’ some type a way doin’ all this.”

“Why?” she asks, not really thinking. 

“I don’t think I’m cut out for acting.”

She simply gives a sympathetic shrug of her shoulders, and simply states, “You could be better.” 

He blinks, apparently caught off guard by her bluntness. “You just get right to the point, don'tcha darlin’,” he says with a smile. 

“Hey if you want someone to kiss your ass, you would’ve been better off asking literally anyone else.”

He gives a snort but the tight smile tells her she’s hit the nail on the head. “Alright then sweetheart, what’dya think I’m doin’ wrong?” he asks genuinely. 

Part of her wants to give a very pithy “everything,” but the other part of her is a little thrown for the fact that he is not only listening but actively asking for her advice on the matter. Granted she’s far from an expert considering she hasn’t done it in years, but she’s worked with some of the “greats’ to be confident enough in her ability to know good acting from bad. Besides she’s already going out of her way to let him in on the secrets of this town, so what’s an acting lesson or two. 

“Well for one thing, it’s called acting,” she emphasizes, “Not Wording.” 

“I-I don’t follow.” 

“Look… anybody can simply say the lines, but it’s an actor that can bring a character to life. You gotta be able to get comfortable with the fact that you’re not only being heard, but you’re being seen.” 

“Sweetheart everybody sees me.” 

“Yeah and you’re in charge of how you want to be seen,” she says. “Do you know why I wear the same red bandana everyday?”

“I was thinkin’ cuz you were tryin’ ta hide a bald spot,” he answers, which earns him a swift punch to the nipple.

“I wear it because my options are to be known as the mexican girl or as the bandana girl,” 

“So right now they’re seeing you Elvis, not Deke,” she sighs. “Say what you want about Brando and his annoying refusal to learn his goddamn lines, but he makes you believe every word that comes out of his mouth, because he believes what he’s saying at that moment…Speaking of Brando,” she pivots hard before she gets too passionate about the topic of acting and gives herself away. “Never get into a pissing contest with him. That’s how Anthony Quinn lost out on being a leading man… and I do mean a pissing contest in the most literal sense.”

“I’ll take ya word for it Jimi, but you sure do know alot ‘bout bein’ an actor,” he says giving her a once over that she can’t quite read. “You eva try bein’ one before?”

“You could say that,” she remarks, silently praying he doesn’t ask why she does have these skills. He’d already noticed over the past few weeks how she would be roped into fixing problems that were well beyond the paygrade of the average make-up girl like jumpstarting golf cars or fixing light fixtures. His attention is a bit infuriating, considering she feels she does her best work unnoticed. “When you've been in the business as long as I have, you learn a thing or two.”

“So how long you been in the business?”

Without missing a beat. “50 years.”

He gives a double take at that, and she’s pretty sure he’s trying to discern whether she’s lying or not. She’s not helping whatsoever with her usual neutral demeanor, until for the first time in years she does crack a bit of a smile at him, as she snipes with a, “I’m a very good make-up girl.”

He laughs at that “So you’ll tell me you’re real age but not your real name darlin’?

“Never.”

He gives an amused snort at that but the nice moment is interrupted when one of the PA’s pulls her away so she can help restart Gleason’s heart after his partner apparently got a little too enthusiastic about choking him mid-orgasm. 

After that the relationship between the two seemed to ease up a bit. He no longer felt the need to posture in front of her and they developed something of a -dare she say it- friendship with one another. For her, it’s a pretty novel experience to actually be heard on set for once, and the closer they got she got the sense that he may understand that feeling more than he would like to let on. 

“Any news?” he would ask, knowing full well that she always has the best stories on set. She doesn’t really talk to any of the other actors on set, and they in turn don’t really notice her, so they are a lot freer with their words when they speak with one another in front of her. 

“So… you didn’t hear it from me,” you say as you begin to wet his hair. “But apparently a certain Superman is on his way out and was seen with a younger girl in New York, and Toni is not taking it well.”

“And Toni’s husband?” 

“Taking it worse,” she says simply as she readies the eyeliner. “This was always going to happen, but I don’t think it’s the end of it.” she promises, which would be proven right a few years down the line when George “mysteriously” ended up with a bullet in his head. 

“You’re the reason I don't even bother with them papers no more,” he remarks. 

“They’re not all trash,” you defend. “There’s almost always a little bit of truth in them.” 

“Speakin’ a rumors,” he continues. “I think I finally figured out why you look like Elena Leon so much?” he says, oh-so casually trying to maintain his innocence. 

She stops combing through his hair, knowing that the jig was up. 

“Who told you?” she asks, trying to mentally prepare herself for the same three things everyone said when they did find out. It’s always an awkward subject to bring up especially as it brings up some painful memories of long hours and relationships that have yet to recover. 

“Y’know me and my mama used to watch your movies,” he says with an annoyingly charming smile.

1, 

“I’m glad,” she says in the most neutral tone. 

“Lord I never could’ve expected to meet you here, workin’ behind the scenes. You ever think about actin’ again?” 

2. 

“Oh my sister is the actress now,” she said affably. Something well-rehearsed and practically scorched into her brain since Jimena started working on sets when she was fifteen was to always talk up Elena to anybody who would listen. 

“Well thas a cryin’ shame sweetheart,” he says with a rakish grin on his face. “You were always my favorite.”

That’s new, she thought. Usually they ask her to do the old catchphrase. That or men tend to get weird around the idea of women who look almost exactly the same. 

But the idea of being the favorite is… different. Like every other relationship, she has a complicated one with the idea of being seen. But the idea of Elvis being the one to look at her is somewhere between exciting and terrifying, and it has her heart beating just a little bit faster. 

“Why didn’tcha go back?” he continues. She kind of understands where his curiosity comes from, as someone who so desperately wanted to break into the Hollywood scene it would probably be hard to comprehend someone who knew it and rejected it. 

The Leon Twins were the biggest little things since Shirley Temple. With their indistinguishable looks and charming, if slightly demeaning, premise of one sister only able to speak Spanish with the other, only English, MGM was able to pump out over thirty various movies and shorts starring the adorable little Mena and Nena and their hijinx. 

How is she supposed to explain how her mother made the unilateral decision that her sister was the “good” one and thus the one she decided would have the solo career after Jimena had the gall to go into puberty first and become slightly more distinguishable than her younger sister. Or how she hasn't talked to her sister in months despite the fact they both still live with their mother, and neither of them have acknowledged this. Or how the reason she took this job in the first place was to better lookout for said sister who isn’t talking to her.

How she sees fame as a beast of madness and obsession that will consume her given half a chance as it did with her mother and now her sister. But movies are all she’s ever known and the idea of leaving seems scarier than it is to stay. 

How the thought of having so many eyes on her once again makes her practically want to claw her skin off and she’d rather die than ever willingly step back into that arena. 

She doesn't say any of that, instead she simply says, “Got tired of it,” as she puts the finishing touches on his hair. “I had my time in front of the camera,” and hated every second of it, she thought. “And I think I’m better suited behind it,” and you give a dramatic turn of his chair so that he could face the mirror. “As you can see.”

“Yeah,” he says, taking the hand you placed on his shoulder and looking back up at you. “I don’t know what’d I do without ya sweetheart.”

Seeing his cobalt blue eyes bore into her own, Jimena feels her face heat up, though mercifully it’s hidden under her darker complexion. If Elvis notices her change, he doesn't acknowledge it, and mercifully that is when one of the PA’s calls him to the sound stage. 

Once he’s out she sprays her own face with a bottle to get herself under control. 

In spite of her typically neutral regard for actors there’s just simply something about Elvis Presley that just made her want to throw that all away. 

She had sworn to herself to never get involved with actors, she had seen this song and dance play out many a times before. It comes in different flavors, but the final scene is always the same at the end of the day: the famous white man never chooses the latin girl to be his wife. Arm-candy? Definitely. Date? Yes. Long-time Girlfriend? Sure. Fiance with a wedding date never set? Maybe. Mistress? Obviously. But never the wife. 

Besides, it was the tail-end of shooting and it’s unlikely she was ever gonna work with him again so she decided to just stamp these feelings down and hope they went away. She was afterall an actress once, she can act like he doesn’t have an affect on her now. 

Though this was blown out of the water on the last day of shooting and he would not only pull her next to him for the cast wrap-up picture, but he would also slip an invitation to the wrap-party in her purse. She had gone home hoping to take a nap and forget about Elvis Presley, only for the next curveball of her day to occur. 

“Should we match for the party?” Elena would ask, holding up said invitation. 

“...did… did you look through my purse to find that?”

“We better start getting ready,” her sister would say, completely bypassing the question. “After all it’s not everyday that Hollywood gets a Leon Twins reunion.”

“...yeah, I-I don’t think going would be…” 

“Meeeennnnnaaaa…” she whines, completely abusing the fact that she is the only one allowed to use that name and not catch a fist to the face. “We need to go together, because why else would they just invite a makeup girl to a wrap party?”

Why else indeed? She thinks and she actively has to scrub the way he looked at her out of her mind lest she get any other ideas. 

“Besides,” she says, giving Jimena a light shove on the shoulder. “You still owe me for never introducing me to James Dean.”

“I barely knew him,” she argues back, which is the truth. He only vaguely knew her as “Snake girl” when she was working as a PA for one of his movies. The closest she ever got to him was after she managed to save him, Rock, and Liz from a snake that had trapped them in his trailer and their subsequent thank-you’s being signed photos of each of them that they had their assistants bring to her. There’s a certain irony in the fact that of the few movies to depict the plight of Mexican-Americans in the US, they had no problem giving her, one of the few Mexican crew members, the most dangerous task because everybody else was too valuable to lose.

Looking at her sister, her reflection in many ways, she feels her resolve begin to waiver a bit. Nena was her first job in a sense, as being the older sister it was Jimena’s responsibility to look out for her first and foremost. She took it so seriously that she’s still doing it to this day. 

They have always been so intrinsically entwined as an act. Their tiny hand prints immortalized in front of Grauman’s and the child-sized oscar with both of their names somewhere around here prove that much. But Elena now struggles to find that same level of fame as before, and secretly Jimena doubts that this will ever be possible. 

She couldn’t understand it but Jimena could see the reason as clear as day. 

There’s an unspoken rule about being a latin or black actress in Hollywood when you’re not the star of the show: Never outshine the white leading ladies, because it has to be believable that the white leading man chooses the leading lady. 

Joan Crawford was bad enough with actresses who had the gall to be simply younger than her, but she was especially vicious toward the ones who had skin tone darker than ivory. Jimena remembers one harrowing set where this one little Cuban extra had made the awful mistake of approaching Joan and saying how she wanted to be as big a star as her one day. 

They never did find her ear, and Jimena had made it a point to stop wearing hoop earrings on set altogether. The whole incident was swept under the rug after “someone” accused the poor girl of being a communist, and they did who knows what with her. But that just confirmed her and other girls like her are unlikely to be protected on set no matter how valuable you make yourself.  

Jimena told her sister this story, warning her to dull herself down a bit during auditions, if only to get her foot in the door and get more consistent work as secondary characters. And it was working for a time, but she wasn’t seeing the kind of work she wanted and she largely blamed Jimena for it because of her warnings to play it safe. 

In fact the source of their recent falling out was when Jimena had tried to convince her to try out cinema in Italy or Mexico or literally anywhere else in the world and use that as a branching off point to get an in in Hollywood. She flat out refused saying how she “doesn’t want to die in obscurity like you.” They didn’t talk for a solid month after that and since then it was only the barest of communication between them.  

“Imagine if I was seen with Elvis Presley,” she said now, with stars in her eyes. “The roles would come pouring in after that.”

For all that it left a sour taste in her mouth, Jimena could understand the logic of wanting to latch on to someone who's already getting up there in terms of fame. Fuck the studios themselves sometimes set up these types of arrangements, all for the sake of promoting up and comers. 

And the fact he invited her in the first place, probably means he had something else on his mind for the evening. Besides he’s apparently been a fan of theirs for a long time, it probably wouldn’t matter too much to him to which sister he was handed at the end of the day. 

So really everybody wins with this arrangement; Elena gets a bump to her star power, Elvis gets to fuck one of the Leon twins, Jimena gets to stay in her lane. And it’s with a heavy heart that she agrees to go. 

The evening was apparently so special that their mother decided to make one of her rare appearances before sunset. 

Once after finding out that not only was she one of the famous Leon Twins, but that her mother was THE Gloria Leon-Sanchez from the silent film days, he of course asked what it was like to grow up with a famous mother.

“You ever seen Sunset Boulevard?”

“Yeah?”

“You’ve met my mother.” 

Harsh as it may sound, that was the most generous interpretation of her mother that she could afford these days. What with her practically living in nightgowns and sheer robes, to her constant bemoaning of actresses that apparently stole her career trajectory the likes of which included practically everyone from Rita Hayworth to even her own daughters, the comparison wasn’t too far off.  

Though her mother had largely checked out once the twins had turned eighteen. Elena alone hadn’t been able to reach the same level of fame that the two of them once managed together as the “Firecracker twins.” 

It was a simple gimmick really but had just enough gas to make over 30 movies and short movies about. Adorable twin girls who get up to mischief due to their near indistinguishable looks, Mena the spanish-speaking, spitfire twin that always had a skip in her step to dance with her little, english-speaking, soft-spoken and shyer twin, Nena, who could occasionally be emboldened enough to sing. 

The two of them were a lightning rod for box office draw, having been likened to Shirley Temple levels of fame, but due to their background that hardly granted them Shirley Temple levels of treatment or pay for that matter. 

Her and her sister weren’t seen as people, they were moving props that could sing and dance, and on occasion say their famous “Ayy, No Bueno!” catchphrase. Props that didn’t need to rest, props that didn’t need to eat, props that the less scrupulous producers would occasionally try to lure into an empty room with them. 

Not to pat their mother too hard on the back, but she at the very least helped them avoid the most obvious pitfalls that come from childhood stardom, but made them arguably worse. Like refusing to let the doctor give them “vitamin shots” but would ask if they could just IV Line coffee to their veins. Or never letting either of them out of her sight on sets, but couldn’t really be bothered with them outside of it leaving them with nannies so she could go “audition” for them. Or how she never left either of them alone with any of the men, but did teach them how to mix drinks at the age of nine so they could charm them with their “maturity.” So on and so forth. All of these bad, but after encountering other mothers who wanted to make their kids stars regardless of the cost, it really put things into perspective as to the type of person she could’ve been. 

What happened to her as a kid may have been more palatable to Jimena, if it were a case of that being the only way to keep them afloat. But it wasn’t and the older she gets, the better she understands as to what was stolen from her in their childhood. Their “father” Victor, had the decency to slip into a coma after marrying the formerly famous silent film-actress, and 10 Months later out popped Jimena and her sister, so as to properly claim her cut of his fortune. 

No, it was never about the money for her mother. It was always the fame that she was seeking, even if she had to begrudgingly share it with her daughters. 

Back in those days the Coogan act was more of a suggestion in the studios, especially when they had her mothers implicit permission for whatever they wanted. The long hours, the uncomfortable costumes and the mean men were all things she had done your very best in the last few years to forget about. 

One thing she undoubtedly won’t forget was her mother’s favorite threat when she was a kid and acting up. “¿Quieres que consiga los fijadores?” Gloria would say with a sickly sweet smile on her face, knowing full well no one but her daughter understood her words. Where other Mexican kids were scared of El Cucuy, she was scared of Los Fijadores or the fixers who would take away bad little girls that didn’t listen to the directors, so that their mothers could go back to acting and not have to care for those ungrateful little girls. That would always shut her up for the day, and she would listen until the next time she got fed up and the cycle would repeat all over again. Little did she realize at the time that her mother didn’t have much in the way of influence in the business, not anymore at least, but she took full advantage over the influence she had over her daughters. 

Ironically enough it was rare that Jimena would ever get to that point, but because her sister was the “good one” she would never dare to kick up a fuss, so most of the time the older sister would do it for her. She took her role as a big sister very seriously back then and didn’t mind being the difficult one who held up production if it meant that her little sister got a break.

It was always the two of them against the world. It’s why she even stayed in the business. She couldn’t imagine where she’d be if it was just her alone, as for all the shit her mother put her through, she could at least take comfort knowing that she wasn’t alone. Even when they were angry at each other, even when they wouldn’t speak to each other for weeks, even when she felt like she just wanted to choke her, she could take comfort knowing that they would always be there for one another. 

For the occasion, her sister would choose a bold red dress that wouldn’t have looked out of place on Marilyn or Jayne. It felt a little too much for just a simple wrap party, but it was clear her intent was to draw as much attention as possible.

By the time Jimena made her way downstairs it was clear that it was already working, with the way their mother was cooing over her. 

“So you’re going with Elena to the party,” her mother would remark as Jimena stepped down the stairs.

“Actually she’s going with me.” 

“And you’re going to wear that?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?” she says in the way only a mother intent on cutting down her daughters self-esteem could.

Jimena would self-consciously look down at her own understated blue dress, “What’s wrong with it?” 

“It’s just…” she would say, fingering the fabric on her shoulder. “This is Elena’s big night, and we need to do everything in our power to help her stand out.” 

A distraction goes unsaid, something she used to be called for wearing any slightly flattering clothing onset. Even when she did start dressing down, she could hardly say it helped anything but this is an argument she’s heard a lot over the years, and she’s too tired to fight it tonight. “Of course mama,” Jimena would say dejectedly before going back to her room to change into something a little less flattering. A simple black dress, something that is both complementary to Elena’s red dress, but will also hopefully help her fade into the background so that all focus will be given to her sister. 

“Ayy thank you Mija,” she would say, planting a kiss on her eldest’s cheek before they left. “You’ve always been so good at looking out for your sister.”

Jimena had long since accepted that between the two of them, she would always be the second choice. It happened with their mother, it happened with the studios, it happened with every single boy she had been interested in, hell she had even chosen her sister before herself most times. Why would Elvis be different?

That night when he did end up picking her, Jimena could hardly be blamed for indulging in the sensation of the first time in her life someone had chosen her over her sister. 

It was the worst mistake of her life that she would struggle to forgive herself for. Elvis would distract her almost the entire night, and as a result an awful man had sunken his claws into Elena when she hadn’t been looking. Those last few months of her sister's life would be fraught with anger, drugs, and heartache from one Tim Parsons. 

He had been claiming to be related to one of the studio big-wigs and could get her some higher profile auditions. What scared Jimi is that she could not find a goddamn thing about him in all of her little networks. Anywhere else this would mean that he’s a perfectly normal person with nothing so scandalous as to be worth talking about. In this town it meant that someone was just very good at hiding whatever the hell is wrong with them.  

Yet all the evidence that he was bad news came in the form of all the drastic changes she was seeing in her sister. Since puberty, Elena had always been slimmer than her (their mother made sure of that) as a result, she wasn’t quite as gifted in the chest and hips as Jimena. But it was impossible not to notice the fact that she dropped a few dress sizes in a matter of weeks. When Elena begged her sister to take in a few dresses for her, Jimena could practically see her ribcage. Not to mention the fact that she was unusually full of energy even late into the night when she would pace around the house only to make a call to him and then after a quick handoff from his car she would be dead asleep, until he would let himself in and the cycle would begin all over again.  

Jimena knows what these all mean. She’s seen the signs in hundreds of actors before, and she’s never bothered to intervene before. Now it feels like a karmic punishment for her previous inaction, as she can only watch helplessly as her sister goes down the same road. 

It all came to a head the day she finally heard the first thing about this man, and it was truly terrifying: that not only was he not a doctor, but that that wasn’t even his name. He had been forced to change it once his claim to fame in this town became how he was denied an apprenticeship under Dr. Feelgood because his concoctions were in the doctors words “unhinged.” The man who regularly shoots up his patients that have a blend of human placenta and ground up horse bones called another man’s “vitamin” mixture insane. 

She dropped everything the moment she heard that and begged Elena to stop seeing this man. But it was in one ear out the other, and it seems it was hard for her to believe Jimena when for a time she was actually getting her foot in the door for major roles she actually wanted all because of him. However these also came with a price as evidenced by the late nights and vacant looks in Elena’s eyes after coming back from these auditions. The more she did this the more she felt her sister slipping away.

Her mother is no help whatsoever seeing only the results of this shift, and not the consequences. 

“Mija,” she would say to her in one of her rare moments of lucidness. “This is what it really takes. I tried to protect you both from it when you were younger, but she understands now what has to be done to make it in this town.”

Jimena has to bite her tongue, when all she wants to do is scream at her mother and yell at her to look in a mirror and ask if that was the image of someone who made it.

It all came to a head when Elena would beg Jimena to help her “entertain” a casting producer who not only had a thing for latinas, but twins as well. She was practically on her knees pleading for her sister's help with this, promising her twin that this would be the break in her career that she needed. Jimena tried to reason with her that there is no role worth what they’re asking for her, especially since even sleeping with them wasn’t a guarantee for her roles.

Up until this point she’s tried to be gentle about this, but it becomes clear as day that that is no help.

“You watch!” She yelled. “He’s gonna suck you dry and spit you back out when there’s nothing left!”

“At least he’s getting me work! You’ve always done nothing but drag me down!” she sobs, angry tears streaming down her face. “The one time I ask you to do something for me-”

“The one time? Who’s the one that did all the stunts you were too afraid of? Who’s the one who dropped out of school so you wouldn’t be alone on sets? Who’s been talking you up to every producer she’s ever worked with?”

“The same bitch who ruined my life when she fucked Elvis Presley!” Her little sister would snapback. 

That has Jimena clamp her mouth shut, not wanting to own up to what she did that set her sister on this course. But that’s all the confirmation Elena needed before she turned her back on her. 

It was the ugliest fight they had ever had, and it resolved nothing, as they just stormed into their respective rooms. Those days were less Little Women and more Whatever Happened to Baby Jane? Jimi knew that if one didn’t get out soon there would be blood. So when she was offered a project that would be shooting mostly on location in New Orleans she practically jumped at the opportunity, hardly even registering the fact that Elvis was gonna be there as well.

It was only landing in Louisiana and seeing room assignments did she remember why exactly she hated On-location shoots, when “mysteriously” the other seven white women she was sharing a room with all unanimously decided that of all of them, Jimena would be the one that had to take the floor. 

But remembering who exactly was starring in this production, she decided to take a chance and made her way to his room. Though upon arriving at his door, she does hesitate for a moment remembering what her sister said and probably what he will expect if they do share a room. But then just thinking of her sister infuriates her and she finds herself finally knocking on his door. 

Being in New Orleans, all her problems back home would seem so far away, and she could focus on herself for a change. In an odd way it felt like he was the only one who understood her in those days. Of all the people on set, he is the only one who knows how to put on a brave face when it feels like everything you have is slipping through your fingers. 

Him also knowing who exactly she was came with the unexpected consequence of him constantly trying to finagle stories out of her. Really talking to him about her childhood did help put into perspective how wild her formative years were as not everybody can say they got in a fist fight with Wendy Darling or that Shirley Temple taught them how to roll a cigarette. 

He seemed to just understand what she needed in a way no one has ever. It was usually simple arguably unremarkable things really, like anticipating when she was hungry or tired, even before she would admit it to herself, or when she almost lost a finger or when he stepped so this would be the first time she wouldn’t be the one to have to chase rabid animals out after a small alligator somehow got onto the set. He took care of her in a way that nobody had ever done before. 

She wouldn’t define what they had as a full scale relationship, but whatever they had, it was nice just to have something private and out of the public eye. Only later would she realize he had his own reasons to keep everything as discreet as possible. 

They were together almost every night in New Orleans, as it was easy to fall into each other like that. They were both at an uncomfortable crossroad in their life and it felt like he understood her in a way nobody else had. 

She thought she understood him as well, but it was only when she read the article did she realize she never knew him at all. 

They were a week away from wrapping up production, when Jimena got the devastating news. In a newspaper somebody else had been reading on set that day of all things. 

That was the way she learned that her sister was dead. 

She remembers saying to no one in particular that she was gonna call it a day and simply wandered off set, into the unfamiliar city. She walked for hours just trying to wrap her head around the news.

It felt like the worst sort of betrayal to learn that her sister had been dead for days, and not only had no one contacted her, but that she didn’t automatically feel it. Aren’t other twins supposed to just know when the other is hurt? So why didn’t she? Elena came into this world with Jimena, why did she leave without her? 

As a kid her mother told her that she was not a pretty crier, so she’s done everything in her power to never cry, especially in front of other people. So walking around and being surrounded by strangers at the very least did prevent her from devolving into a blubbering mess. But as the day goes on she knows there is no outrunning the inevitable, and that as tempting as it may be to simply walk until she couldn't anymore, she would have to go home soon. 

She would eventually make her way back to the hotel room only to be met with Elvis worriedly pacing around his room. He would throw his arms around her the moment he saw her and start with the condolences, and even the tears. 

She didn’t really want any of that; she just wanted to lie down and sleep forever. But she lets him pull her close and she breaks for the first time in years in front of somebody else. True to her mothers words, it is not a pretty picture.

Full body wracking sobs, snot pouring out of her nose, her screaming and cursing until her voice goes hoarse, the works. Even still he holds her all the same. For all that she’s glad he was there she can’t help but feel so humiliated, but that’s simply one of the many emotions that run through her head along with guilt and anger and regret and just about every other awful feeling under the sun. 

But who else could she turn to that would know even a fraction of what she’s going through right now. Not just to lose a sister, but to lose a part of yourself. 

In a sick way she kind of blamed him. Maybe if she hadn’t been so wrapped up in him these last few weeks she would’ve known earlier, or maybe she wouldn’t have even taken this job, or hell, if she hadn’t even gone to that party, Elena wouldn’t have even met that man in the first place. 

“The same bitch who ruined my life when she fucked Elvis Presley!” Plays over and over again in her head. But it’s easier to be mad at him because he’s actually here to take that anger. 

Though she begins to feel no small amount of guilt for this when she wakes up the next morning to find that he’s cleared everything with the producers, and arranged for her trip back home all on his dime. 

He personally escorts her to the private train room he rented for her and leaves her with a kiss and a promise to see her in a few days. But by this point she’s numb to everything and she simply wants to close her eyes forever.

She barely registered coming home and only that was due to the fact that it’s now on her to arrange everything for the funeral, as it becomes apparent that her mother in her grief is off on another world.  The biggest clue being when her mother greets her at the front door with a hug and a kiss, and calls her Elena. 

“Mena’s still not back yet,” her mother would say with her arms still wrapped around her in the threshold of their home. “So it’s just gonna be us today.”

“Ama…” Jimena whispers, unwilling to believe what she’s hearing. 

“Let's get you to the kitchen,” she tugs at her now lone daughter's arm. “You look like a skeleton these days. They’re not going to hire you if you don’t have a little meat on your bones.” She’s quickly whisked away to the kitchen where she finds a veritable feast, and her mothers hired cook nowhere in sight. Her mother can’t cook, a fact known to both sisters, but between the two of them, Elena never had the heart to tell her. 

“You should listen to your sister more Nena,” she says brushing some hair out of her face after putting down a full plate of food in front of her. “I’ve put a lot of thought into this and I think she’s right on the money with the idea of trying to make it somewhere else and then coming back.” 

“Ama… please listen to me,” she pleads softly with the older woman, wanting to be gentle with her.

“You should really consider Italy,” she would say, not even acknowledging her daughter had said something. “Or France if you want to get a slightly better chance at 

It’s then she realizes that her mother is simply parroting back to her what she had been saying to her sister. All the rage and grief that’s been building up inside her bubbles over by that point. Now is when her mother decides to back her up, when it’s far too late to do anything about it?

“She’s gone!” she shouts. “She’s not here anymore, I’m Jimena!”

Her mother doesn’t look shocked, more resolved as she places her head in her hands. “Quiero estar con Elena,” she whispers through her tears. 

It occurred to Jimena that this was the first time she had heard her mother speak Spanish in years. Alot of her mother these days is very… performative. 

She’s seen it throughout the years how much her mother puts on a show, even simply for her daughters. It’s most apparent when she talks, as rather than using her natural voice, the one that made it impossible for her to break into the “talkies” as she still insists on calling them, she’s instead adopted the mid-atlantic, but the result sounds like if Katherine Hepburn was mocking someone with a Spanish accent. 

But hearing her now, Jimena realizes that this is the most honest her mother has been with her in years. The truth doesn’t make it sting any less. Her mother is gone, she just needs to resolve this one last piece of business to go in peace. 

Just like she played mother to her own sister for years, she could pretend to be the daughter that her mother needed at that moment. And so she unflinchingly took a bite out of ceviche that only tasted like raw non-marinated shrimp and talked about whether or not to go the Josephine Baker route and start off as a showgirl.

The rest of the day is spent trying to ease her mothers guilt, only to pile it onto Jimena. Her mother would not so subtly explain why Jimena has been right this whole time and why ELena should listen to her. She suspects this is some fucked up way for her mother to tell her it’s not her fault, but all Jimena can hear is how if she had pushed harder her sister would still be here.

At one point her mother would “subtly” hint that she called in a favor with an old friend to take “Tim” down to Mexico so that he can retire. Jimena can’t even find joy in the fact that he’s gone now, because what does that leave her with, if she can’t be the one to kill the man who killed a part of her? 

“One more thing Mija,” Gloria says as she runs her nails through Jimena’s hair while they were both laying down in her sister's bed. “Thank your sister for me.”

Jimena hesitates before she asks, that distinct sense of trouble churning her stomach, “For what?”

“For being the mother I could never be for you,” she says, planting a kiss on her forehead. “Mena’s the one I never had to worry about.” And with those final words, her mother settles in behind her and goes to sleep. 

The coroner would later say that the fact that she was able to sleep and not be disturbed by whatever took her, she at the very least went without pain. 

This is fundamentally untrue as she left all her pain to Jimena.

This event had taken the story from simply sad to a tragedy. A young, beautiful starlet dying of an accidental overdose, is one thing, but add in her bereaved former silent film star mother to the mix, and that’s front-page news worthy. And before Jimena knew it, her loss was now the hottest ticket in town, because all of the cameras were not gonna dare miss such an event, and no star was gonna dare miss the cameras. 

It felt that every relatively famous person who vaguely knew either her mother or sister came out of the woodwork to tell some sort of story about them at the funeral. Jimena doesn't really have much to say other than there were definitely some who pulled off the bereaved friend act better than others. 

When it finally comes time for her eulogy, she was not as prepared as she thought. In an odd way it would have been better to look out in a sea of strangers, because looking out and seeing a hoard of famous faces who don’t know a single goddamn thing about her, all blank as there is not a single camera trained on them at the moment is far worse than anything imaginable. 

She ends up bolting to a backroom before she could make a fool of herself and scream at them all for being here when they’re not. She gives a futile effort to calm herself down by looking at all the gifts from well-wishers.

It was almost funny as it seemed everyone's publicist went to the same gift basket guy as there were maybe a dozen of the same arrangements, and she briefly wondered if they were bought in bulk by the studio and sent in different stars names. But one name in particular gave her pause, and she ripped the card off of the basket, unwilling to believe her own eyes that he could be so callous. 

Sorry for your loss

It was hard to comprehend at that moment, and she stupidly turned the little card back and forth unwilling to believe that the man who claimed to care so much for her would only send her an assortment of fruits and cheeses and not even five words. 

It’s all too much at that point, her dress is too tight, she’s all alone, her head is spinning, she’s all alone, her tits hurt for some reason, she’s all alone, she wants to throw up, she’s all alone, she’s all alone, she’s all alone… 

Jimena’s next conscious thought is realizing she’s in a hospital bed, but not in a hospital. The sound stage she’s on does a good enough job of looking like an actual hospital, save for the fact that an entire wall is missing and what looks to be a couple dozen cameras trained on her prone form. She can’t move anything save for blinking but that simply seems to make her situation worse as the cameras proceed to multiply each and every time. 

What does eventually make her accept that this is in fact a dream is when her rotting and decaying mother and sister enter stage left and proceed to rip off the thin hospital blankets. Before she can make any move to protest, she’s quieted with a wave of pain in her lower belly as they both take one of her legs in hand and proceed to spread them wide open for the cameras, each flash searing into her skin like a brand.

She can feel the way her mother and sister dig their fingers into her limbs to keep her in place and helpless as wave after wave of agony seems to flow throughout her entire body. She’s begging for them to let her go, she’s begging the cameras to stop, most of all she’s begging for someone who's not there.

She came to, maybe a day later, this time in an actual hospital with a mild concussion, a baby in her belly, and a broken heart, though they can only officially diagnose the first two. 

She had options for this situation. Every woman, famous or not, in the business knew she had options, it was practically part of orientation that they got a list of ten approved doctors by the studio for this very sickness. It was almost treated as a rite of passage for the backstage girls to have to eventually visit a doctor, it’s simply that common.

Jimena’s never had any reason to utilize this option, having 1. Avoided anybody relatively important to necessitate this, and 2. She had always been careful when it came to something like this. And yet somehow Elvis proved to be an exception to these rules. She had admittedly gotten sloppy after the first time he spilled inside her in New Orleans, as after that first time she figured that if anything came from this she could always just visit one of the studio doctors when she got back to LA. 

But sitting in a hospital bed, that once hypothetical scenario now a reality, it no longer feels as simple as it once did. She’s near catatonic in her indecisiveness until one of the nurses idly asks if she would be open to visitors should anybody arrive. 

And just like that, the prospect of going through with any other option other than keeping the baby made her sick. Because if she did go through with it… then she would well and truly have no one.

It had always been her and Elena against their mother, against the studio, against the world even, but now… she’s gone and it feels like she took a part of Jimena with her. 

Jimena’s good at a lot of things, not great, simply good. Jack of all trades they would call her, able to make quick fixes to a golf cart in a pinch, mix the perfect hangover cure, fix a few busted stitches on a dress or person alike, and practically anything else the studio demanded of her. 

Maybe in another life her wide-ranging skill set would have made her the greatest actress of her generation, able to play whatever role thrown at her. But in this life it just made her feel hollow. As though she herself is empty and without a part to play save for caring for her sister. 

Perhaps it’s true and that’s why she latched onto Elvis for a time, desperately needing to care for someone if only to outrun those fears of inadequacy. But there’s no outrunning anything when half of her is gone. 

As for Elvis, she doesn’t exactly know what to do about him just yet. She knew that telling anyone but him first would result in it getting back to the studio and at best she would be “lightly” pressured to go see a doctor, at worst anybody who asks will be told she decided to “retire” in Mexico. So her best bet was to wait it out and hope he contacts her.

Then one fateful morning as she was contemplating how best to ask the studio for bereavement leave, did she get a copy of Excelsior and she read about an exclusive interview Federico de León got with the father of her child. 

I would rather kiss three black women than one Mexican. 

She thinks she stares at that sentence for a good ten minutes trying to convince herself that she’s somehow misinterpreting this. But the inner smartass has to creep in and force her to face her new reality.

Well… he did more than kiss, she thought spitefully looking down at her belly, now far more prominent than it had been at the funeral months ago. She burns with humiliation and shame as those words run over and over in her head. 

She knows personally that there is almost always a grain of truth to stories like these, having had the scoop on many of them months before they got to print. And the fact of the matter is that it’s hard to believe the studio would allow for these to stand if they weren’t true with the movie coming out soon. 

As far as she knows, the studio has no idea about the affair between her and Elvis, and she’s going to keep it that way. 

What burns her the most is how wrong she was about him, not just as a person but as an actor. That she could’ve ever believed all his sweet words about this grand connection they had and how they were destined to be together. He’s perhaps the best actor she’s ever encountered if he got her of all people to believe all of that shit.  

It’s better this way, she tries to tell herself. In a way it is, as this was always an inevitability because regardless of whether he said it or not, there is no world where they ended up together. That’s not how this town works.

Her job makes her the first one to see actors on a given day, and she’s been forced to think on her feet as to how best to make them not only look but be presentable in front of the camera. 

She’s had to quickly sober up hundreds of actors and she’s had to figure out just the right amount of drink for each of them that will make them functional but not incoherent. Had to cover up twice as many bruises on actresses' faces so no one will speculate what goes on behind closed doors of their producers husbands. She’s even been the one to diagnose more than a few “social” diseases on set and steer them to the right doctors, so as to prevent a veritable epidemic on set. As haughty as it may sound, productions would fall apart without her. 

Low-level she may be, she’s a fixer in this town. She’s not a problem that needs to be fixed. 

And she decides neither will her baby. 

She’s not gonna beg like a fucking dog to be acknowledged by him, nor will she allow for her child to be forced into the spotlight. It destroyed her sister, it ruined her mother, and it almost claimed her once more. 

Elvis may have taken her pride but he won’t have her and he sure as hell will never have her baby.

Now

Elvis will never be used to California weather with its ability to both be hot and dry in the tail end of winter. But he hopes it’ll do him some good of defrosting his bones from the near-year round cold of Germany. Once upon a time he never thought he would enjoy it as much as he does right now.

But he’s found a lot to love and miss about California since he’s been gone so long. 

Not to brag but he’s been with his fair share of women, between actual girlfriends, publicity girlfriends and all the girls he knew at best for only a few hours. None of them can claim to have instilled in him this sense of longing the way she did. 

Nor can any of them claim to have caused as much heartache as she did. 

Bittersweet as they may be, those days filming King Creole he missed the most. It was those days that kept him sane in the lead up to boot camp, and even then some. Though of all the things Hollywood had to offer him, there is only one thing he coveted these last few years.

“You see her over there Billy,” he said to his cousin one day on set as he took a breather from the lights while she fixed up Carolyn’s makeup. “That’s the girl that’s gonna be my wife.” No words have ever felt more right to him. 

It was all the more heartbreaking and humiliating when he had sent Billy to find her and figure out why none of the letters he’d been giving to the Colonel to give to her had been answered while he was in boot camp. Billy would return to Texas unable to meet his eyes as he sheepishly handed him a single note in her handwriting. 

Three black women huh?

That sinking feeling that settled in his stomach as he remembered those words are something he doesn’t think he’ll ever forget. He recognized those words, how could he not? Afterall those are supposedly the ones he said that got him and his movies banned from an entire goddamn country he ain’t ever been to. 

It would be one thing for her to be mad at him for something he did do, but it felt like the worst sort of injustice that Jimi may never want to see him again for words that he never said from a man he never met for some unforgivable slight he never committed. 

Worst of all was how he was surrounded by his entourage who gathered around and were now owlishly looking at him, expecting a certain reaction from him, and simply waiting for him so they could properly react. 

It’s near paralyzing in that moment that he recognizes that his closest friends aren’t expecting him to react, they’re expecting Elvis Presley to react. 

“Her loss,” he remembers saying, feeling every single eye on him in that moment, trying to literally shrug off that scratchy feeling in his throat. He’s supposed to be the biggest heartthrob of America, unfazed when a girl said no because there are no less than a hundred girls that would say yes. 

They all follow suit, and quickly take to promising him a night out and reassuring him that he’ll practically be drowning in pussy before midnight. Though with one look he does put an end to that little episode when their support for him turned into disparaging her. 

He knows that there is no use in even trying to reason with her over letters. Because what can he really say to her in writing if she’s not gonna even bother reading? 

If she already has it in his head that he’s the type of man to say something like that, then no amount of letters will make her believe otherwise. 

He would spend the next year trying unsuccessfully to fall out of love with her. Indulged -perhaps too much- in all that bachelorhood had to offer. All the girls he could pull, all the pills he could handle, but none of it could even match a fraction of the euphoric feeling of being complete when Jimena was around.

She loves him. Or at least she used to. She never said it but he certainly felt loved in a way he’s not used to anymore. It’s not the fanatical worship from his fans, nor the sycophantic adoration of his buddies. Her love is something purer, less selfish, something he doesn’t think he’s experienced outside of his mama since the fame started rolling in. 

He needs her in his life. Because nobody is going to look out for him or try to protect him the same way she would. 

He’s had nothing but time to figure out ways to get her to at the very least hear him out. From there he could start rebuilding the foundation of the relationship and work his way back to her good graces. 

His first obstacle to this plan comes in the form of finding out she is no longer doing makeup anymore, and is now in fact part of the wardrobe department. This is a wrench in his plans considering he attributes her fall for him due to the fact that she practically saw him everyday while shooting. But he tries to look at the bright side of this, knowing that it at least guarantees that Brando and Newman haven’t been getting the same treatment from her. 

The next obstacle to seeing her again is her initial refusal to be a part of the new production, as now with her new title as Costume designer she’s in a better position to pick and choose what she works on. But enough pressure on the director to push for her specifically does eventually have her signing on to the project. 

The final wrench in his plans came the day he had been anticipating for almost two years. 

He’s thought about her non-stop for the past two years, so he almost immediately notices the changes in her appearance. No less beautiful (arguably even more so with her bigger tits and rounder hips, and better fitting clothes), she’s different nonetheless, yet none of that prevents him from wanting to gather her in his arms and promise to never let go. 

But a single look from her his way, stops him in his tracks. And suddenly he’s brought back to the first time he ever met her, mistaking her for his would be co-star, and wondering how he’s gonna get through this shoot when he feels like he’s two inches tall under this gorgeous creature's gaze.

He was prepared for her hatred, he wasn’t prepared for her complete and utter indifference. She had that glazed over look in her eyes, like he wasn’t even there. It reminds him of one of the few times that he dared to question why she does that whenever he asked what it was like to grow up in Hollywood. 

In a rare instance of vulnerability, she would solemnly whisper “It makes it easier to pretend it happened to someone else.” Only minutes after that would she claim to urgently need to go back to her assigned room for the night, the only time she ever did so during production. Next day she would pretend as though nothing happened, and he would follow suit all too willing to indulge her so she wouldn't run off again.

He knows he’s hurt her beyond measure, but to be put in the same categories of things she would rather pretend never happened is gut-wrenching. 

If she hated him, he could’ve worked with that, because at the very least she still felt something when she looked at him. But as the whole session went on it became clear she at the very least wanted him to believe she felt nothing for him. 

He would’ve taken any sort of reaction by that point: an “accidental” pin prick from the needle, a passive-aggressive tightening of the measuring tape around his neck, hell he would’ve settled for so much as a hateful glare his way. But nothing, stone cold professional she is, she simply takes his measurements only to then give her only acknowledgment that he was even there by giving him a simple “all done.” She then moves on to his co-star with all the eagerness of someone about to brush their teeth, just so painfully indifferent to everything in this room.

Regret is a constant companion these days, always whispering in his ear about his shortcomings, but now it feels like it’s practically screaming in his ear what a failure he is to let a woman like this slip through his fingers. 

He’s practically kicking his younger and dumber self for being so cowardly as to miss the chance to tell her how he felt. Not a day has passed since they parted had he not thought about every touch he didn’t follow with I love you, every embrace he didn’t whisper how much she meant to him, every kiss he didn’t beg for her to always stay by his side. 

He had been gearing up to try to broach the subject of something more happening, ideally ending up with a courthouse wedding before he had to be sworn in, though he was willing to accept whatever form of a relationship she would offer him so long as she would still be in his life. 

But then just a week before wrap-up, when everything was as close to perfect as it could be, that is of course when things went to shit. 

Elena Perez, of the famous little firecracker twins, found dead, age 21

It hit him like a punch to the gut when he first saw that. Even though he had never met her, it was devastating all the same, knowing how affected Jimi was gonna be.  

The closest he ever did come to meeting her was when Jimi had brought her to the wrap party for Loving You. 

He was still pretty new to the art of schmoozing, so his night was almost entirely devoted to an ever present smirk that had begun to hurt his cheeks and laughing a little more than necessary at every joke the studio heads made. He was tired but he knew he would find no rest anywhere. But his tune quickly changed when he saw a familiar figure within the crowd. 

He felt his heart go all a flutter when he saw her from behind but then when she turned around there was just something about her that didn’t sit right with him. It was like looking at a funhouse mirror of Jimi, her posture almost ridiculously upright to further push her ample breasts out, her smile a little too tight, but most of all her eyes were a little too hungry, a little too eager to please. The features were nearly entirely the same but he was so used to the casual nature of his makeup girl, it felt so unnatural to see this. 

In another life he may have been all over her by this point, taken her home, maybe if he was feeling generous, been seen out in public with her a few times before ultimately moving on. There were beautiful and eager to please women everywhere he looked, there wasn’t really anything special about Elena Leon. 

But having met Jimi first, he can’t really fathom having much to do with her.

He spent the better part of two hours ducking and weaving her approach, practically sending out his boys as human shields, to keep her away, because he doesn’t exactly trust himself not to give in to her advances, if only for the consolation prize of getting to be with someone who looked liked the one he actually wanted. 

He eventually made his way upstairs after a while no longer wanting to be surrounded by people, as there was only one person he wanted to be with at the moment, and she had apparently decided not to come. 

It becomes apparent that he’s been rewarded for his self- restraint when he finds a backside he would know anywhere on the third floor balcony. Swathed in a pretty if non-descript black dress,  bottle of champagne in hand, she was looking down on the party like an ever-judging guardian angel. 

“Y’know I don’t think they wanted anyone up here,” he would say casually. 

He could see the way she practically lit up as she saw him, a soft smile on her gorgeous face and her eyes warm, probably the first person of the night that was genuinely glad to see him. It’s a novel experience for people to see him and not the star, and it’s something he never thought he would miss. 

“Well you better get outta here before they see you,” she snarked back. 

He laughs for the first time since he got there, and it feels so easy to just settle right next to her and look down on everyone else. He finds himself relaxing for the first time since he’s gotten there.

“So what’s a pretty girl like you doin’ up here all by your lonesome?”

Around a tight smile she says, “There’s already a pretty girl like me down at the party.” He can’t help that he flinches slightly as he thinks about her sister. “I see you met Elena,” she sighs, before plastering a tight-lipped sardonic grin on her face. “So what’d ya think?”

Elvis has the good sense to know a trap when he sees one with women, so rather than using words he just lets out a long breath. 

She gives a short mirthful huff. “Yeah that’s fair,” she taps the neck of the bottle trying to undoubtedly figure out a way to change the subject. “If you say some corny ass shit like ‘I think I’m seein’ double’,” she says in a piss poor impression of his own voice. “I will push you off this balcony.” 

“You sound like ya done it before sweetheart” he smirks, swiping the bottle from her hand, before taking a swig. 

“How else do you think I avoided becoming Charlie Chaplin’s 5th wife?” The simple statement catches him off guard that champagne threatens to come back up his nose. 

“... ya serious?” He closes his eyes in relief when she snorts.

“No,” she chuckles, with a hand wave. “I pushed him off because of something else.” Her eyes slide away from him and zero in on one of the partygoers below, before he could dare ask for any further elaboration. “Oh hey… Brody’s here and… uh-oh so is Frank.” 

He follows her eyeline to find that she’s wearily looking at ol’ blue eyes himself who has decided to make an appearance. “Ya’ got a story ‘bout Frank?”

“I got a story about everyone here.” With a slight smirk, she would hold two fingers up and ask, “Wanna know how I got these scars?” 

She regales him with not just that story but others of what she’s been asked to do on set. Some were funny like having to fish a toupee out of an oscar winner's mouth to more harrowing ones of being asked to check the pulse of particularly heavy drinking stars. Anybody else, he doubts he would have humored such tales, but it’s when he started hearing other people tell even wilder stories of her that ranged from snake-wrangling to resetting famous stars' bones after some sexual misadventure, did he learn early on never to doubt her stories. 

“So you come to these things often?” he asks after her giggles had settled down.  

“Never,” you answer. “But Elena convinced me we had to come to this one especially,” a bit more solemnly as she looked down at the familiar figure down below at the party. “You know when we were little, we used to climb up onto the roof and watch the parties from up there to tell funny stories and avoid the adults, saying how we were never gonna be like them.” There’s warmth in her voice, but sadness in her eyes as she gazed down at her mirror image at the party below. 

Being a twin is not something Elvis liked to dwell on. His Mama had always talked about Jesse watching over him since he was little, but rarely if ever did he really contemplate what it meant to have a brother who wasn’t there with him. 

It feels as though he was supposed to have someone that was meant to always be with him and look out for him, but now they’re not here and now he’s doomed to a life of loneliness. This thought is only further reinforced by the way you look at your sister, and something almost akin to jealousy shoots through his being, that she can have you and not value you. 

Not like he could, a voice whispers in his head. 

“What’s it like being a twin?” he would ask before he could lose his nerve. Though he does immediately clamp up at not just the suddenness of the question but the ease he was able to ask it. He’s tried to broach the subject of Jesse a few times throughout his life only to chicken out at the last minute in fear of upsetting someone, namely his mama. 

Though the regret is instant as he watches her mood drop immediately and face him with a disgusted expression, that he can’t quite understand until she says with no amount of venom missing, “No I’m not gonna ask her if she’d be interested in a threesome,” she says, far too quick to have him not believe that this isn’t the first time she’s heard this. 

He feels his face immediately go up in flames as to how grossly his words have been misinterpreted. “N-no I-I didn’t mean it like that,” he says quickly trying to salvage the situation and gets a hold of her before she can fully turn around. 

“Mmhmm,” she hums dismissively, looking down at the hand that holds her wrist and looking down on him as though he’s the scum of the Earth. 

“Darlin’ I-I swear it ain’t nothin’ like that, I just… I…” he stutters out wondering if there’s anyway he can truly explain his interest in her status as a twin without coming off as creepy, but one look at the full moon shining behind you is all the signal he needs to be honest. “Ain’t too many people know this,” he starts, taking a steadying breath trying to find that courage of two men he’s supposed to have. “But I-I had a brother, and…” he swallows hard at this one, always a sensitive subject in the Presley household. “And he-he didn’t make it…” 

She looks at him with a critical eye, undoubtedly searching for any sign of falsehoods on his face, only for the hard look to melt when she realizes he spoke nothing but the truth. 

“Oh, umm…” she says. “I-I’m sorry to hear that,” her voice dripping with guilt at the assumption. 

“It’s fine,” he reassured you. “He was gone ‘fore I even got here.”

It’s hard to talk about Jesse with anyone, because what more can anyone say about him other than he should be here but he isn’t. He has no memories to reflect sadly on, just wishful thinking about who Jesse could’ve been or even who he would’ve been if had him in his life. 

“I really don’t know how to describe it,” she says, putting down the bottle she had in her hand. “Because she’s always just… been there, and I’ve always been the one to look out for her.” 

“You’re the older one?” he asks with a bit of a laugh.

“Yeah,” she affirmed. “I’ve been doing it my whole life. Stayed up and held her hand when she was too scared to sleep. Did all the stunts she was too afraid to do and broke a couple bones. Threw tantrums when we were filming so she could get a break that she was too nervous to ask for. Dropped out of school so I could get a job on set, so she wasn’t alone. Hell, the only reason I’m here at this stupid party is because she thought she could get in touch with someone who could help her career.” Each admission is met with a more resentful tone, only for her to then try to chase away the taste the words are leaving in your mouth, by taking back the bottle.

“O-oh,” is all he really has to say to that. 

“She’s awful,” she admits, but a sardonic smile begins to creep up on her face. “I love her so much.” 

“Really?” 

“Yes,” she asserts. “There’s no one else in the whole world I would’ve done those things for. I guess that’s what it’s like to be a twin, take care of the person who's been here since you were born. It’s like… having to take care of any other part of your body, but this one is just constantly away from you and you can do nothing but worry.”

Elvis is stunned into silence for a moment as he looks at her, because she is able to finally put into words that anxiousness that has been eating at him his whole life. Even with all the love and reassurance he felt as a kid, there’s always just been that missing part of him that no one has ever been able to understand. 

But there’s one part that eats at him still.

“And does she take care of you?” he asks, more curious than anything at this point. 

That question catches her off-guard as she rips her eyes away from him and furiously looks down at the party, before she smiles and looks back at him to ask “Wanna hear who Clark Gable had a secret child with?”

Another time he would’ve been very interested in the topic, but seeing her obvious panic as she tried to avoid the very subject keeps him focus. “Don’t do that,” he pleads softly, brushing a few errant curls out of her face. “Don’t shut me out.”

She leans into his hand a little bit and he feels her jaw clench as she tries to get a handle on herself. “I must sound like a crazy person to you,” she says. Granted anyone else, he might’ve thought that, but this is Jimi, the girl who is never bothered by anything. He was witness to how she nonchalantly filed her nails before putting out a camera fire. Watched as she hardly broke her stride when some yahoo tried to scare her with a halloween mask. Hell he’s seen her put out a match with just her fingertips, and only to stare him down to get back onto set. 

She’s seen the worst this town has to offer, and yet it’s her seemingly one-sided relationship with her sister that has her on the verge of collapse. 

Not if Elvis had any say about that.

He takes it as a good sign when the normally touch-averse Jimi doesn’t immediately pull away from the hand on her shoulder, so he decides to take a chance and fully envelope her in his arms. She stiffens somewhat but otherwise accepts it, and he feels his heartbreak over the unspoken truth that she looks out for Elena, but no one looks out for her.  

“I think it sounds like…” he says, taking her chin in his hands, “ya care a lot darlin’, and it don’t sound like she appreciates it as much as she should.” 

The ever present indifferent shell she had built over the years cracks with that simple statement of understanding. She has such beautiful doe eyes hidden behind a hard stare, and for only having known her for a few weeks Elvis can appreciate even the chance to see behind the mask. 

But he wants to know more. He wants to know all of her.

It feels almost magnetic, the sudden pull he felt towards her in that moment. Nothing could stop him as he leaned down to kiss her full lips. Everything else in the world seems to fall by the wayside, the party, the people, even the city itself no longer existed to him as he held her in his arms. 

Their first time with her was nothing short of magic. It felt like the first breath of air after being held underwater for so long. 

They just seemed to fit together so well, a fact that couldn’t be denied even as their first time was a quick and dirty session on a balcony under the light of the moon. Like they had been so desperate for each other years even before they met, and now it all culminates to this. 

They don’t even really remove their clothes, he just unbuckled his pants on the deck chair while she sat astride him, moving her skirt up her waist and move her panties to the side. Her moans as she slowly impaled herself on his length sound like music to his ears and he can’t help the low groans as he tries to prevent himself from closing his eyes too much wanting to burn the image of her taking his cock while the full moon gives her a truly angelic look behind her. 

He wants so badly to hold her but even now she denies him that as she puts a hand over his chest and rides him like she’s trying to tame a bucking stallion. He’s just as enthusiastic for this as he grips her thighs in his hands and 

The whole encounter is over and done within a matter of minutes after that, but he’s just glad that she came to and now he didn’t have to feel the shame of finishing before her. She collapses on top of him trying to hold herself upright while he holds her close to his chest as he gives a few lazy thrusts to ride out the rest of his orgasm. He’s never felt more connected to anybody than her in this moment and he wants to truly seal this perfect night when he raises her chin to try to capture her lips.

But she pulls away slightly at the motion, “... I… I should go…” she whispers, and he’s not too sure if she’s saying that more to him or herself. 

“...I-if that’s wh-whatcha want baby…” he says, not having the heart to deny her anything, no matter how much every single other part of him is screaming at him to make her stay. The inner conflict practically paralyzes him where he layed and he could only watch as she quickly fixed herself up. It’s mesmerizing to watch, as with only a few quick adjustments, Jimi looks good as new, save for the kiss-swollen lips and the slight uneasiness in her stance, it’s as though nothing had ever happened. 

That hurts in a way he can’t explain with words. The idea that the relationship they’ve built in the last few weeks will amount to a one time thing that they go their separate ways from. 

But what can he do to stop her if she doesn’t want to be here anymore?

So with all the boldness he’s learned to fake over the last few years, he grabs a hold of her wrist, and tries to give some type of meaning to this whole thing. “Wait darlin’.” He makes a conscious effort not to grip too tight lest he scare her off, but just enough to let her know he’s serious. “What’s your real name?”

Bathed in light of the full moon right behind her, a soft smile on her face as she looks at him though not without that twinge of sadness in her eyes. “Jimena Gabriella Perez.” she said as though it were a good bye.

And with the way she walks away without even a glance back, it’s clear that it was. 

He sits there for he doesn’t even know how long just in his head and staring up at the moon. He knows realistically he should be making his way back downstairs, but all desire to mingle with other people seemed to dissipate as he stared up at the full moon. Besides there’s only one person he really wanted to be with at the moment and she apparently could hardly wait to get outta there. 

He stared up at the night sky for the longest time trying to gather his thoughts about the situation, trying to figure out why it felt like every nerve in his body was screaming at him not to let her leave. It was all kinds of backwards yet somehow still fitting that he learned her name only after sleeping together. 

But try as he might, he can't justify keeping her here when she clearly wants to go. 

It felt as though he had known her for years rather than months. In a way it was sort of the truth due to having seen her movies as a kid, but never in his worst nightmares could he imagine the near debilitating feeling that rests in his chest at the prospect of never seeing her again. So he closes his eyes and tries to make peace with the fact he’ll never see Jimena Perez again.

Jimena Perez… JP… Elena Perez… EP… 

His eyes shot open at that realization, and as he hurried to make himself somewhat presentable, he berated himself for missing something like that. He has never believed in coincidences and this was far too specific to be anything other than some sort of sign. 

But to his chagrin, it’s as though she had dropped off the face of the Earth. 

The next day, all anybody could talk about was the scene that the Leon girl made of herself standing on tables and practically flashing the studio head with an impromptu can-can dance, until her sister pulled her off and quickly escorted her out. 

It would be another year before he would see her in person again, and that was only because he specifically requested to have her on-set for what he thought would potentially be his last movie. But even then he’s able to find a modicum of peace with that, if only that he will have her in the end, and this whole ride has been worth something. 

He doesn’t know what’s more terrifying, the idea that he’ll never be able to communicate how he feels about her or the prospect that he will and she’ll reject him all the same. He even at one point resorted to trying to write them down in order to sort them out. 

But each time he tried to put pen to paper it felt like his mind went blank, because how can he explain that it feels like she’s the piece that’s been missing his whole life. That the only time he’s felt whole were the few weeks they spent together. That it can be no coincidence that their names and family names match so perfectly, and it’s gotta be a sign that something else is at play here. 

But he realizes that he’s gotta put in the legwork to make fate happen too.

Requesting to have her be In New Orleans, and he planned on working his way to slowly form a friendship into something more permanent. Of course she did throw a wrench into that plan almost immediately the first night when she showed up at his hotel room and declared the couch for herself because she refuses to stay where she was assigned. He wouldn’t have her anyother way. 

It’s easy to fall into each other once more, as though it hadn’t been almost a year since they last saw one another. He hopes that maybe this time around he would be able to show her even a fraction of what he feels. In an ideal world they would already be on their way to a courthouse to make it all official so that no one would bat an eye when he brought her to Germany, but even he realizes what a tall order that would be. He’s not one to plan ahead, but he figures it’s gonna be a longer process than he anticipated with her, but Jimi’s worth every moment.  

But just like that it all seemed to fall apart.

As sad as it makes him to wake up without her, he’s used to it by this point, but what does worry him is why she wasn’t  in his trailer when he arrived on set. It ate at him that seemingly no one cared beyond the grumblings from the other makeup girls who were now having to work more because she’s missing in action. He knows he’s gonna get an earful for this alone from her considering how much she wants to keep their involvement a secret, he does blatantly ask about her by name. 

It becomes clear what exactly happened when he notices a discarded newspaper on the director's chair. He immediately calls for a halt to the production so he could go out and look for her, fearing the worst. But due to the already tight schedule practically everyone refuses to do so, even after hearing why exactly she was gone.

At that point he just walks off set and swiftly dispatches every one of his boys to go search the city. He even gets in on it and drives around for a few hours all in an effort to find her, but he returns to his suite so he can pray and pace and worry and hope she comes back before sunset. 

When she does get back, the faraway look in her eyes tells him she hasn’t been crying, but the way she’s all clenched up like she’s actively fighting herself from doing so in front of him. He’s having none of it and he brings her into his arms.

It’s only then that she seems to collapse in her grief, and he holds her still knowing that there’s nothing else he could do right now. He’s never seen her like this and immediately he recognizes that he will only ever know a fraction of what she’s going through in that moment. 

Elena was a real person whom she’s known all her life, Jimi had confided in him how she’s put her through the absolute wringer with their mama favoring her and her inability to recognize what her sister has been doing for her sake. Jesse has always just been gone, and Elvis could imagine him in whatever way he liked as an older brother. Jimi knew her through all of the ugliest bits of their lives and loved her all the same, even as she slowly spiraled downwards. 

“Jimi…” he whispers at a loss for words. He knows that nothing he says could possibly fix this situation and it makes him feel all new sorts of helplessness to the situation. 

“Why didn’t I feel it when it happened?” she asked out loud though he gets the sense she isn’t asking looking for an answer from him. 

He could hold her tighter so that she wouldn’t feel so alone right now. The rest of the night, and well into the next day, is a blur as he as he waivers between trying to comfort her and arranging for her return to California. He wants to go with her but despite the already tight schedule for filming and the looming date of his induction he’s hoping to be able to at least see her one last time before boot camp. 

He remembers finding her red bandana as she was packing everything up, and contemplating telling her. But he selfishly wants a small piece to hold onto until the next time he sees her so he slyly slips it under his pillow, and he promises to himself he would give it back once he saw her again.

But of course the lord himself seemed to laugh in his face as his stunt apparently cost a few extra days of filming and between everything else going on in the lead up to his induction, he couldn’t be there for her. The Colonel had a few of his own men physically hold him to prevent him from getting on the next train to LA after he heard about her mama passing, the only thing swaying him was the Colonel’s promise that it would only be one more day of shooting. One day turned into three and before he knew it he was whisked back home to wait out until his induction, with the only acknowledgement from the Colonel being that he made sure to send condolences to the surviving Leon daughter. 

He can only imagine what she went through losing her sister and mother so close together, difficult relationship and all. He would lose his mama only a few months later, and it felt as though every breath threatened to be his last one. Knowing she went through all of this alone, it’s little wonder why all of the letters and invitations he sent at Fort Hood went unanswered.

Sitting in his mothers closet, not wanting to have his grief turned into a photo-op for the press. He now understands why Jimi left the business in the first place. It was as though he was trapped in a fish bowl, drowning and everybody was fighting to be the one to witness his last breath. It makes him feel all the worse for letting her go through that alone.

His biggest regret is that she had to go through all of this alone. He had tried his hardest to try to head back West to see her only to be thwarted each and every time. No amount of Love was gonna thwart Uncle Sam from getting his dues. And before he knew it he was on a ship headed to Europe.

He almost had to relegate himself to the fact that the relationship is unsalvageable after all of it. Truly after experiencing loss himself, he can’t imagine any scenario where she could forgive him, as he could hardly forgive himself. 

But for the sake of making tomorrow seem even the minimum amount of bearable he forces himself to dream that things can be fixed and they would eventually be happier than ever. 

Because if they don’t… then what’s the point?

After all they had gone through separately he knew in his heart that there would never be anyone who could understand him like she could. A twin without a twin, and a child without a mother, a lonely soul surrounded by others, and most of all a person in desperate need of love beyond simple admiration. 

There had always been an ever-present hollow feeling in his life, something he never even recognized until she was no longer present to relieve him from that emptiness. She understands him more than anyone ever will, and the idea of letting her go without a fight is something he simply can’t do.

The almighty himself has tied them together unlike anything he’s ever seen before and to choose another path would be blasphemous at this point. 

All his thoughts on who Jesse would’ve been have been answered when he pointed Elvis in her direction. He has to believe that he wouldn’t do him dirty by bringing him to his soulmate only for fate to snatch her away all the same. He has to believe that things will get better, otherwise what’s the point of continuing on?

But he has to grin and bear the hell that will be trying to live without her in Germany. But if his time in Hollywood taught him anything, it’s how to pretend to be someone he’s not.

It’s easy to pretend to be the good Sergeant Preseley in Germany, charm the pants off a couple girls, do whatever he’s assigned to do by the higher-ups, take whatever the doctors give him so that he can do both, abstain from playing music, act like it’s not killing him, etc,. Behind the scenes he becomes needier than ever, truly fearing being alone now of all times, because he doubts he could keep this up without an audience presence. 

Everybody has seemed to become the audience regardless of how close they previously were to him, it’s hard to think of them as anything else considering that he’s playing a part for them all so they could believe that he’s fine. 

This all adds to his longing for Jimi, knowing that she saw through him easily and he never had to worry about being anything less than himself around her. 

But playing his role helps ease the ache that stems from every thought that she brings to his heart, as then it can be somebody else experiencing that devastation. So he bides his time and plays his part in Germany. Trying to fill that sinking feeling he got in his chest every time he thought about Jimi with more partying, more drugs, more women, just more everything. Even with all that, that sinkhole in his chest seemingly grew bigger and bigger every morning he woke up and she wasn't with him. 

His heart has been broken since the day he was born, and it has been a mad scramble for the pieces for everyone ever since. His brother took a piece with him when he left, as did his mama, and everybody else who had a piece had been doing jackshit to appreciate it. 

He had only one piece of it left really, and he had spent his entire life trying to find someone who he could trust to take care of it. And like a goddamn miracle his brother was able to answer for him, and pointed him in her direction. And finally he found the person he could give that final piece of his heart to. 

But she hurt him in a way that no one has ever been able to do so. She didn’t take advantage of his heart, or reject it, or even betray it. Worse yet, she couldn’t recognize what he was giving her. The life Jimi had been living had turned her cynical to his intentions for her. And every fear she may have ever had about him had been proven true with just that one little article. 

He can’t even blame her for being angry, as he doubts he would’ve been able to keep a lid on something like this in her shoes. But he can’t dwell on it, he can only move forward and try his best to fix this. 

It had truly felt like the world was conspiring against him in that year, as he had to watch as everything he loved slipped through his fingers, all for what. All for a dream that he wasn’t even sure was worth it anymore, nor something he could actually be a part of. 

Being enlisted and overseas already, there was always the lingering threat that if anything happens with the Reds, he’s already here to fight the good fight and all that. Be the good soldier, who would gladly lay down his life for his country. 

Really he just wants to lay down. 

Sometimes forever. 

In the worst days he was so sure he was gonna die there, whether by an enemy hand or by his own, he couldn’t decide. Really the only thing that kept him going was the slim chance that she would be willing to hear him out if he ever came back stateside. Those nights he would hold onto that small piece of her trying to convince himself of the illusion that she’s waiting for him, and dying here would only mean he would lose any chance of seeing her again. 

At one point it stopped smelling like her and he resorted to ordering a bottle of her perfume just to preserve the illusion that she was still waiting for him. He probably doused the cloth with a quarter of the bottle, and inhaled half of that all to maintain the illusion of her still willing to come back to him eventually. He’s sure if that hadn’t worked in easing his nerves he would’ve downed everything in his medicine cabinet and called it a night.

He’s put everything he is into this hope that he could possibly get a second chance, full well knowing he’s undeserving of one. 

So he’s not about to let her go so easily.

Jimi’s actually not that hard to find on the lot, especially now that she has a door with her name on it. She’s certainly made her way up, having turned her previous doodles in the margins of production notes and discarded scripts into a new position complete with a title and an office.  

He knocks at the door with her name on it, and waits a moment, what sounds like the dumbo soundtrack quickly being drowned out by the heart-pounding in his ears. She doesn’t keep him waiting long, as she opens up the door only to immediately close it just enough so that only her head is sticking out. “Fittings are next week,” she says neutrally before she then proceeds to try to close the door in his face. He is too fast though as he shoves his foot in the crack and pushes it open. 

“Jimi, please,” he pushes the door further, but stops once he sees the panicked look on her face. He holds his hands up in surrender but makes no move to remove the foot.

She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath in annoyance, before she opens her mouth again. “If I promise to talk, will you leave me alone after this?”

So sure of himself he nods, truly believing that he just needs to explain and then they can go back to the way they used to be. 

She puts a hand on his chest to motion him to step away from the door before she herself comes out. She does so in the oddest way possible, by sliding herself between the door and the frame, as though she was trying to prevent him from seeing inside her office. She looks back inside and tells who he presumes to be the others she shares the office with that she’s gonna get lunch, and to hold everything down. 

“So you want to talk? Talk then,” she states, breaking that line of thought as she leans against the bulletin board.

He figures she would have such a no nonsense reaction like this, and takes a steadying breath in order to deliver what 

“Jimi… I know why you’re mad,” he starts off slowly. “Believe me I would be hoppin’ mad if i read that…”

“I forgive you,” she cuts in. “We done here?”  

“Wh-what?”

“Are we done here?” She repeats slower this time to really emphasize her words. 

“N-no Jimi,” he begs. “The things the papers said are just lies. I ain’t ever said that”

She gives a short mirthful laugh when she hears that, “Elvis if I had a fucking dime everytime I heard that line,” she rolls her eyes. “But it’s fine. I don’t care anymore. I’m not in the business of telling the papers anything, so you don’t gotta worry about everyone figuring out you’re a hypocrite.” 

“But… I’m not…”

She pats his cheek and gives a thin smile as she pushes herself off the wall, and gives a dry, “Of course you’re not.”

“Jimi listen to me,” he begs, briefly wondering why Jesse had to pick the most stubborn woman alive for him. “I never said any of that.”

“Mhmm,” she hums, the thin line of her mouth and the way she’s checking her nails for dirt, telling him she has no faith in his words. 

“Jimi,” he pleads with her, taking her hand and placing it on his chest. “You gotta believe that I would never say somethin’ like that. I love you so goddamn much and I especially ain’t never wanted to hurt you.”

She may not be able to rely on her knowledge of him, but he knows her well enough to know that she recognizes good acting from bad acting. Watching as her eyes soften from their previous hard stare, he knows that she understands that this is far from an act. This is by far the most honest he’s been with anyone since his mama passed, and the doubt in her own assumptions of him shows all over her face.

He thinks he’s finally getting through to her, until she glances behind him and he watches as her dark eyes harden once more. “You don’t love me, and it doesn’t matter what I believe Elvis,” she snatches her hand out of his, and walks back towards her office before slamming the door.

He stands there for he doesn’t even know how long, trying to justify why he should even keep breathing at this point, his catatonic state only helping to prevent him from doing something stupid in the face of the worst rejection he’s ever had. This isn’t a girl laughing in his face over being asked to the school dance or a stuffy actress looking down her nose at his hillbilly ways, this is a part of his soul refusing to come back to him. 

This can’t be the end, a voice in his head whispers. He tries to repeat these words in his head if only to make the hope he has a little more real. He knew it wasn’t going to be as easy as him returning, and she would automatically throw herself into his arms. He already knew it was going to be an uphill battle for her love once again, but the flat-out rejections and refusal of his declaration just made everything so real in that moment.

When Jimi cares, she does so with all her being, and he knows at some point she cared enough about him to befriend him, and there’s no way that all disappeared in the last two years. To some extent she still cares about Elvis, and that’s why he refuses to give up on her so easily. 

But she’s not one to be swayed so easily. 

Gifts and letters and songs for her, are all met with the same stony indifference that has marked her status as near untouchable. Her schedule is next to unpredictable as it seems that everytime he does try to send someone over for her she’s conveniently out of the office. 

Each rejection further drove him closer and closer towards that edge he’d been resisting since he landed in Germany. He would toss and turn at night, not wanting to be alone but at the same time wanting no one but Jimi with him. It’s even worse than it was before considering the fact that she’s so close that he could almost touch her, but she’s like smoke, he can see her there but never truly grab a hold of her.

Something that only intensifies once shooting actually begins and he knows just how close she is day in and day out on the lot. It’s nothing short of torture to have all that he needs in life so close, yet just out of reach. 

Off camera and out of the studio he’s barely keeping it together, the years of pretending to be okay in front of people only barely enough to sustain the image he’s made for himself as well as doing the job he was tasked with. Everybody wants a piece of him now that he’s back, and he doesn’t know if he has any left to give anymore.

It all came to a head one day when he walks into the wardrobe building and sees one of the girls holding a small toddler girl. It strikes him how similar the little girl looked to Jimi back in her firecracker days, even down to the ribbon tying her hair back. He muses for half a second that that’s what their daughter would look like, and then it hits him like a ton of bricks that may never come to pass. 

He’s trying to make her not hate his guts, and with how little success he’s been having, he’ll be lucky if she even looks at him again before he’s Dodgers age. He’s closer to never having her love him again than he is to someday. 

He had come with the intention of showing her the bandana he had been holding onto all of these years, to show how devoted he’s been to her. Now holding it in his hands and remembering that initial promise to give it back to her, he realizes what a fool he’s been. He’s been selfishly holding onto something that’s not there anymore, because he was too much of a coward to actually do what he needed to get what he wanted. 

He didn’t want to believe it was too late for them, but seeing that little girl, he realized how much time he’s lost. Where he’s spent the last two years nurturing his love for her, she's been feeding her hatred for him. If he’s gonna be in love with her for the rest of his life, she’ll hate him for the rest of hers. 

She’s made it clear that she wants nothing to do with him anymore, and he can’t blame her for it. He should’ve been there for her, damn the consequences, but he wasn’t and now he has to live with what he did. 

Though once he gives it back, jury's out on how much longer he will live.

Resolved in his need to do right by her, he solemnly walks to the costume department with about the same enthusiasm as he would the gallows. Perhaps there is no coming back from this, and perhaps he wouldn’t deserve one either way. He was a coward who let what he wanted walk away time and time again, not having enough will to hold on to her. 

And he doesn’t have the strength to try to hold on any longer. 

Finally as he’s just about to turn the corner to where he knows her office is, only to stop in his tracks, and realize that once he gives it back… it’s all over. He’s strangely okay with that once he reconciles he won’t be feeling that way for much longer.

Turning the corner he sees a familiar figure looking at a bulletin board, and standing right beside her was a significantly smaller figure.

It takes him a moment to realize what he’s looking at, but the second he does it feels like all the air has been sucked out of his lungs. 

He’s tempted to look down at his own feet to reassure himself he's still on solid ground, and that the floor hadn’t been taken out from under him, but truly no force on Earth could make him look away from the little one at her feet. 

The boy is standing barely taller than her knee, wearing light green overalls with what looks to be a little yellow duck on the front pocket. His honey hair - a few shades darker than Elvis’ own natural locks- is slicked back on the sides allowing for some bronze curls to hang over his forehead but it’s really his face that comes like a punch to the gut to Elvis.

Vain as it may sound, Elvis knows his own face, even when it’s softened with baby fat and slightly darkened from the California sun, and that’s all he sees when he looks down at the brown-eyed little boy that’s clutching onto a woman’s skirt and idly sucking his thumb. 

It’s as he’s wondering what happened to his eye color when the eyes in question finally take notice of him, and the little boy rapidly tugs at the pencil skirt he’d had a tight grip on. In his head he’s still trying to justify any other way someone could have a little clone of himself that isn’t the most obvious answer, until he watches Jimi crouch down in her heels as she gently strokes the little boy's plump cheek. 

“¿Que paso Papi?” she asks, adoration in her voice as she brings him close to her face, before planting a kiss on his cheek. 

The boy, too shy or too young, to answer only points a chubby little finger his way, his dark eyes wide in wonder. As her eyes follow, Elvis sees her jaw clench and most of her previous warmth seemed to sap out of her at the very sight of him. It truly feels like the first time she’s actually looked at him in a long time without her eyes immediately sweeping over him dismissively, so he can’t help but welcome it. 

In one fluid motion, she competently scoops up the small boy up in her arms and begins to make her way towards him, her heels clacking ominously as though she were an oncoming vengeful mother goddess set to rain down fire upon him. 

Elvis is usually quicker on his feet but it feels as though they had been replaced by cement as he’s frozen in place with no sign of escape. But he doesn’t think he really wants that anymore as it now gives him a better look at the boy.

“Can I help you?” she asks, painfully neutral, as though she’s simply asking what he wants for lunch and not in fact holding a mini version of himself in her arms. 

“Wh-” he starts but has to swallow before he can get too choked up. “What the hell is this?” 

“It looks like,” she answers and he perks up at that both eager and fearful of what she has to say. “My old bandana,” she states, much to his confusion, until he follows her dark eyes to the fabric still within his grasp. 

Her flippancy just enrages him, “You know damn well what I mean!” pointing a finger in the direction of the small boy in her arms. Guilt quickly eats at his belly as the boy turns from him and buries his face in her neck out of fear, as she continues to look at him with the disdain in her eyes only growing.

“Oh…” she says dryly as though she only now remembers the boy in her arms, even though she had been consistently rubbing soothing circles on his tiny back since he got scared. “This is my son.” A simple no-nonsense answer, but he doesn’t miss the way she neglects to mention a name. “You can go ahead and throw it away, I don’t need it anymore.” 

He wants to say something about that. He wants to be mad at her for being so goddamn stubborn about this as though his whole world isn’t being rocked right now. But he can’t muster any of that as he just finds himself just wanting to look at the boy in her arms some more. The little one looks back and forth between the two of them, but he does seem to settle after gauging that his mama is not in the least bit shaken by the man before them, and adopts her bored looking expression, though the boy does keep a wary eye on him even as his mother turns them both away from him.

“Wait,” he says as he quickly grabs her elbow. Her hackles rise at just that little bit of contact, like a rattlesnake coiled up and ready to strike, but he won’t be stopped from knowing the truth. “Is… is he-”

“No,” she cuts him off, before looking over his shoulder and closing her eyes- seemingly in annoyance- only to then plaster a wide phony smile on her face as she looks at him. “Thank you for bringing it to my attention.” saccharine sweet, as though she had been in a completely different conversation before ripping her arm out of his grasp and walking past him. “I’ll be sure to add those notes into the costume.” Without even a goodbye she rushes past him.

He turns around to see the second most gut-wrenching thing of the day as a woman approaches Jimi and hands over to her another child,and he realizes it’s that same little girl from earlier. The love of his life expertly balances the additional toddler on her other hip as she plants a swift kiss to her cheek before exchanging a few words with the woman in front of her and walks back down the hall, not even bothering to look back at him.

That woman quickly approaches and stands in front of him, obviously trying to run interference between the two of them. Trying to keep the two of them apart like everybody else has seemingly made their mission. 

He honestly hears nothing of it as he starts to tail Jimi down the hall, his entire focus is on the little girl, heart-breakingly sweet with her little cherubic face, her dark curls held at bay with the red ribbon, as she opens and closes her tiny hand at him as though to once again say good-bye. Meanwhile the little boy, whose face is still firmly in his mama’s collar, risks a quick peek back at him before quickly burying himself back in place as the echo of yherour heels on the linoleum floors lessens as she gets further and further away. 

He’s able to catch her before she can get out of the building, quickly blocking her from the exiting door. She still has that infuriating cool expression on her face, looking at him as though he were a mere inconvenience on her way out the door. 

“Jimi…” he pleads, taking her shoulders in his hands forcing her to look at him. “Jimi, look me in the eye, and tell me they ain’t mine.”

She gives him such a cold stare that he can feel a shiver travel down his spine, the dread of her words tying his stomach in knots, as he anticipates her answer. Somehow she’s able to make it all the crueler, even as her (his?) son starts to suckle on the collar of her blouse, while her (their?) daughter has managed to dislodge a chunk of her thick dark locks from her braid and begin to play with it. 

“Why would I want them to be yours?” 

A punch to the gut, a kick to his face, a knife to his heart, those are all the things he would have preferred she had done over saying that. For a second, even she seems taken aback by the cruelty of her own words, until that hard look returns to her eyes as the little boy begins to pat her cheek for attention. 

She looks down at him with a soft smile on her face before giving them both a kiss to the forehead and sidestepping him in order to get out the door, not even bothering to acknowledge him.

He doesn’t know how long he stays in that spot but by the time Joe (or was it Charlie?) finds him and he’s practically stiff as a board, and just about as responsive. Nobody fights him on it when he just declares that he has to call it for the day, so it’s not too long before he’s kicking off his shoes and crawling underneath the covers still fully clothed. His mind raced, doing its best to put together what the hell he had seen today. Trying to comprehend how much of himself he had left behind with her. 

When he started making waves he had to have the most awkward talk of his life with the Colonel to always wrap it or at least become proficient in never finishing inside of a woman, because the last thing he needed was a baby. And he was for it completely, nowhere ready to settle down yet, and with everything looking so vibrant and new to him, he saw no end in sight. 

He can think of one night in particular back in New Orleans, after almost twenty hours on set, Jimi had excused herself from any of the usual get-togethers and headed straight to his room. After she had declared that her room situation is unmanageable she had set up shop initially on his hotel room couch, though lately they hadn’t even been bothering with that pretext. So it wasn’t too shocking to find her in his bed, spread out on her front like a starfish in nothing but a simple slip. 

What was shocking was the wave of contentment that washes over him seeing her there, just the utter feeling of rightness that the image brings. The powdery blue slip gorgeous on her dark skin tone, and he has to hold back a groan when he sees how high it’s ridden in her sleep giving him a tantalizing view of the back of her thighs, just effortlessly sensual, even in her sleep. He can’t imagine anything better to come home to. What he found even more tempting was her defenseless pert nose, and remembering the way it would scrunch up when she smiled. He knows he’s either going to get that reaction or swift punch to the chest for what he does next.

She still manages to keep him on his toes when she simply does both after he peppers her face in kisses. He reels a bit from the blow, playing up the injury just a little as he sees her shoulders bounce a little in poorly held in laughter.

“They gotchu workin’ to the bone sweetheart,” he remarks, as he rubs the spot between her shoulder blades that has her giving a euphoric groan. He is genuinely offended that the studio would make her have to work like a dog, all for a single line in the credits. 

“This whole production would fall apart without me,” she sighs, while he lets out a laugh in agreement. 

“You ever think about quittin’?” He asks a bit off the cuff, but he can’t help it seeing the woman he loves running herself ragged for people who sure as hell don’t care for her. 

“Maybe,” she answers through her drowsy state, turning to face him directly. “I don’t think I would leave, but maybe if I get married I would probably do something with less hours, like costumes.” 

He felt his heart speed up a little when she mentioned the word “married” but not in the way it used to do when other girls brought up the idea. No, rather than having that sour feeling in his belly, he’s practically giddy over the prospect with her. “So I guess ya just waitin’ for the right actor to sweep you off ya feet darlin’?” he brings her close, smiling into her hair and absentmindedly stoking the hand she lays on his chest. 

But this happiness is ripped away by a simple snort from her, only to then be further crushed into dust as she has a full-on laughing fit at the mere prospect.

“No,” she says, wiping the tears from her eyes, trying to get a hold of her laughter, unknowing of how soul-crushing her words are. “I’d never marry an actor.”

It feels like every ounce of hope for the future saps out of him at that moment. 

“O-oh wh-why’s that?” fighting to keep his face from showing the devastation he feels inside. A knife in his heart would have been preferable at that point, because then she would have at least acknowledged he had one to break. 

She gives a mere shrug, of her shoulders, “I don’t really know how to explain it other than it wouldn't work.”

If he were a braver man, he would have had the balls to ask her “If that’s true… then what’s all this been about?” But he's a goddamn coward and this question dies on the tip of his tongue, far too afraid of what she may answer. 

As these nights usually talking leads to kissing and while she is willing she offers first to use her mouth, and while he doesn’t hold back the groan when he hears this, he knows that that won’t be enough for him even if he can’t pinpoint why. 

“Okay,” she yawns, as she lifts her hips up, presenting her ass in the air while she wraps her arms around a pillow and sleepily buries her face in it. “But you gotta do all the work.” 

She’s done this before, tried to feign indifference toward the act, and tried to play it off that she didn’t absolutely enjoy it each and every time. This is a game that Elvis has yet to lose. 

He knows her well enough to know how to get her going even when she insists she’s not in the mood. How a light touch up her spine as her perk her ass up, while a nibble to her ear has her making the most adorable little noises. And still it feels like he learns something new about her everyday, with today’s new lesson that she loses all of her carefully crafted composure when he sits on his knees and raises her thighs over his shoulders.

She lets out a surprised gasp as she barely catches herself on her hands, only for it to turn into a low moan when he takes a long lick up her slit. Nothing tastes sweeter on his tongue than the evidence that she wasn’t as disinterested as she claims, and with her so nicely open for him now he plunges his tongue as deep as he could go. 

Any semblance of composure is gone the moment he had almost entirely upside down, her arms shaking with the effort to try to keep herself up. 

“You like that sweetheart?” he whispers, only slightly muffled by her flesh. 

“Yes,” she moans enthusiastically as he feels her small hand palm at his still clothed length, and he gives a little chaste kiss of appreciation on her clit that has her gasping for air. While any other night he would’ve gladly indulged her need to taste him, he did promise to do all of the work. So as he delves his tongue as deep as it could go he knows she’s good and ready as he feels her slick drip down to his wrist as he rubs that button of hers. 

She lets out a devastating sob as she comes, and before she’s had a chance to recover barely had time to recover before he’s flipping her over and pressing her knees to her chest as he thrusts inside all in one motion. Her back arches and her mouth opens and closes repeatedly, gasping for air as though she could feel him all the way in her throat. 

Entering her is always such an indescribable feeling, somewhere between euphoric and comforting. And there have even been days when the only thing on his mind on set was how best to get her alone so that he could get her like this once again. As he crams his cock at a steady rhythm, he imagines it’s the same way everyone else who goes to work on a regular job pictures being home at the end of the day. 

If he was a little rougher that night, it was only so that she could feel a fraction of his anguish that she caused. He both envies and resents her ability to be able to picture a life without him, when no future of his would be complete without her. 

He had spilled in her before that point, but it had always been an accident as something about her made him slower on the draw than he was with anybody else. But in that moment before he knew he was gonna cum, seeing her thrash and arch her back and push even further into him, time seemed to slow for a second and there was a moment where he saw quick as lightning just the image of her heavy and glowing with a baby.

His baby.

He can’t remember a time he came so hard, and with the way she collapsed back in the pillow he knew she was just as affected by it too. The way she’s quaking with every breath before peaking out at him through the curtain of her hair is something he doubts he’ll ever forget as places light kisses on her shoulders to add some tenderness to the rough act. 

With great reluctance and curiosity getting the better of him he pulls out his softened member, and he’s treated to the most erotic thing he’s ever seen in his life as he watches his seed slowly drip out of her folds. If he wasn’t absolutely sure that that last one had taken everything out of him he would be ready to go again from the sight of this alone. 

Something in the back of his head whispers to find something to plug her up to really make sure it takes this time. But before he can act on this he sees her get her bearings on her, and she reaches between her legs. She gives a soft curse as she sees his spend on her fingers, before making a move to roll out of bed towards the bathroom. But he was quick to snatch her back and tell her to just lay with him until he fell asleep. She would only give an annoyed little huff, and give sleepy demands for beignets for breakfast in return for this favor.

He slept easier that night with his hand on her belly, believing that he would be able to find a way to keep her with him. 

This would be far from the last time he would spill in her during production, but it would be the last time he could call it an accident. If he’s being honest with himself he thinks he fully intended to get her pregnant in some sort of convoluted plot to get her to settle down with him. That once she had a baby in her, she would have no choice but to marry him and leave it all behind. No more ungrateful sister or disparaging mother, Jimi could finally focus all of her attention on a family that would take care of her back. 

But then everything happened all at once, and suddenly she was beyond his reach, and soon she took with her all of his hopes of having a life worth living. 

Since his career had taken off, more than a few women had already accused him of fathering their babies. Of the few of them that weren’t talking outta their ass, he had seen a few of the kids, and while there were some that may have had a few features similar to him, none had come close to the little clone boy he had seen of himself in Jimi’s arms. 

Others woulda chalked it up to just him getting older and wanting to settle down and any baby with a passing resemblance woulda done this to him. But there was something even beyond longing, it was that sense of rightness that has been missing from his life for a long time, something he wouldn’t’ve gotten with just any baby. 

On the day they were shooting with the babies he tried to test this theory. But even holding a few of the kids, not a single one of them was able to stir anything close to that fatherly warmth that just looking or even thinking about the two little ones she held that day. 

It’s not like he felt nothing holding these babies, like he wished them any harm, but he more or less cared about them the same way he would care about a random puppy: fun to play with in the moment, but didn’t really mean he cared enough for the hard or messy parts of taking care of it. 

As he’s holding probably the biggest one of the lot, he realized this one is still smaller than either of his babies. Someone off-handedly asked how old this one was, he feels his throat close up at the answer. 

A Year, he thinks to himself as he hands the slobbering infant back to its mother. How much did I miss? Can they walk? Can they talk? 

Even as their mamas were packing them up to leave for the day, all of them would wave goodbye to him, but none of it compared to the heart-wrenching feeling remembering those two little ones she held in her arms. 

In his heart he knew they were his, he didn't care what she had to say about it. 

Two people, both from a set of twins, get together and create the two most beautiful and perfect babies he’s ever seen, and she thinks that means nothing? That she can just step away from him and deny him his rights as a father?

What did he miss all this time away? The boy was standing on his own, so did he already take his first shaky steps? The little girl was babbling nonsense to him, has she been able to actually make words?

Lord, he doesn't even know their names. He has so many questions and next to no answers.

But even for all the anguish it’s causing him, he can feel it in his chest how their existence has reinvigorated him beyond what he thought he was capable of anymore. He had been on the cusp of hopelessness, fully believing that without he wouldn’t be long for this world without Jimi. 

But seeing them was like seeing a light at the end of the tunnel, now knowing that Jimi couldn’t get rid of a piece of him, proves it’s not too late for them.

So he went about getting answers the same way she taught him to: ask the crew. To his luck everybody seemed to know something or another about what Jimi had been up to the last few years. Through the various tidbits here and there he was slowly able to piece together a story. 

How some asshole had taken advantage of her grief after losing her entire family with promises to take care of her in her time of need, and how he didn’t even wait till the ink was dry on the marriage certificate before scurrying his ass back to Mexico leaving her with less than half of her inheritance and a couple of babies in her belly. She came back to Paramount as a costume designer a couple months back after calling in a few favors with some of the higher-ups, and has been flagrantly breaking the rules by bringing the babies on to set. 

Jimi wasn’t lying when she said that make-up girls hear everything there is to know in this town. Unfortunately he finds out the hard way that that goes for all of them, even those that now work in the costume department. 

“I hear you’ve been asking about me,” a familiar voice would coldly say as she wrapped the cape around his neck. 

He doesn’t have to look up to know who it is, but he does look around to make sure the other make-up girl was gone. This at the very least confirms that she’s keeping her cards as close to her chest as possible, and trying to prevent anybody from figuring it out. 

“I had a right to know Jimi,” he answers, not looking directly at her face but through the mirror. A trick he learned when he first met her when he wanted to get her genuine reaction on something, he could only do so when she thought she wasn’t being looked at directly. It still proves to be true when he sees her jaw clench the slightest bit at his comment. 

 “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says apathetically but immediately contradicts herself when she gives a firm yank to his hair so that he’s looking right up at her. 

He gives a small grunt, though he does smile a bit at finally being able to get a reaction out of her. “Well now, last time I saw you like this-”

“Elvis,” she cuts off sharply before she grits out, “Leave. It. Alone.”

Now it’s his turn to react as his jaw clenches in frustration at the audacity. “Why should I?”

“Elvis…” she says slowly like he’s a child. “What do you think is going to happen if you are the father?”

He opens his mouth to argue with her, only to come up short. He hadn’t really thought farther ahead other than being able to have them all in his life. But what would that mean for them?  How would people react to him not only having kids now, but having them this whole time and only now stepping up? 

“That’s what I thought,” she says, placing down the comb. “Don’t worry,” she pats his cheek, maybe a little harder than necessary, “Nobody’s gonna believe they’re yours after what you said.”

He explodes hearing this, “How many times do I gotta tell ya?! I didn’t say that shit!” He stands to his full height to tower over her.

“It doesn’t matter Elvis!” she says, raising her voice for the first time since he’s known her, not in the least bit intimidated by him. “Do you really think they’re gonna just accept that you had two kids out of wedlock, and especially with a Mexican woman? Especially now that they’re trying to sell you off as this wholesome family act, do you think the studio is gonna stand for that shit.” Her eyes begin to go a bit glassy as she says the next part. “Your career might be in danger, but my literal life is at stake if they even think I could be a threat to the comeback they’re trying so hard to make happen for you.” 

She squeezes her eyes shut at this point like she’s trying to will the tears back into her eyes, and her chest seems just a step away from being considered heaving, making it clear to Elvis she is trying so hard to keep the image she’s crafted for herself intact. Elvis can appreciate how yet again he’s the only one able to look past the curtain and see her for who she is. 

Finally after taking a deep breath her bloodshot eyes open and she gives a somber, “Do you know how my last movie ended?” Her voice severe and distant, her hands placed on the hinges of the trailer door. 

He’s a little stumped by the heel-turn of this conversation, but he plays along if only to convince himself he still has a chance to convince her otherwise. “You got your folks back together didn’tcha?

“No,” she says bitterly. “That last movie ended with the worst box office turnout of the year, because it was banned in most southern states -including yours- because the white man ended up with the mexican mother,” there the sardonic smirk on her face tells him she finds little humor in what she’s saying. “The studios forced us to tell that story and blamed us when nobody wanted to see it…” 

“Jimi,” he starts placing a hand on her shoulder before she rips it away. “Baby, it’s a different time now,” though even he realizes how hollow those words are. 

“Let me finish!” she shouts, tears trailing down her face as she looks back at him. “This isn’t a movie,” she declares. “There is no happy ending for anybody if you keep digging. Not for you, not for me, and especially not for my babies.” 

Our babies, is on the tip of his tongue, but he holds back.

“I’m not gonna have my babies a part of that life Elvis,” she glares at him. “They don’t need you. I don’t need you.” She turns her head and he can see the tears that threaten to fall in the corners of her eyes. “So just… leave it.”

And with seemingly the final word, she walks out of his trailer and he falls back heavy into his chair, utterly exhausted by the encounter. His chest feels tight, the shallow breathes he’s able to take doing little to remedy the feeling, his hands shaking out of fury and grief for the life that’s been stolen from him. On top of all of that his vision starts to blur with the tears clouding them, but that doesn’t stop him from noticing the movement in the mirror. 

He quickly gathers himself as best he could and turns to face whoever just entered his trailer, but he finds himself alone. That is until he looks at the mirror again.

He knows he must look a mess right now, but the mirror doesn’t reflect that whatsoever with the stony features he sees looking back at him. Elvis knows his face, and he knows when he’s not looking at his face. But Elvis knows who this is even before he opens his mouth with the only words he’ll speak to him.

“Go getcha girl,” Jesse whispers. 

And just like that he’s gone, and Elvis looks at his own reflection once again. With that little bit of brotherly guidance, Elvis comes to one startling realization: She’s right.

She’s right, this isn’t a movie.

So that means he doesn't gotta be nice about getting her back. 

He’s spent the last nearly two years planning how he was going to apologize to her over something he didn’t even do. Where is the justice in that? It’s as though she’s only capable of seeing him in the worst possible light. 

If she want’s a villain so goddamn bad then he’ll give her one. 

What a cruel power did God give to women. To take a piece of man, to mold and create something so wonderful and joyful, only to be able to deny him that if she felt so inclined. Usually the duplicitous ones will take from one man and claim it to be from another, all for gain, but Jimi is far more sadistic with this power, to hold two little mirrors in her arms and deny him his very own image. 

It’s enough to drive a lesser man insane.

No.

She’s not gonna deny him this. 

Jesse may have gotten him started on this path, but he can no longer just rely on fate to bring them together. He will take matters into his own hands, and they will be together. 

He remembers the first time he had seen one of her films as a kid. It was his 8th birthday and he had begged his Mama to let him go to the movies to see literally anything that day, and it so happened to be that one where the two sisters unintentionally thwarted some robbers in their house. 

He remembers laughing as Nena was sent into one room only for Mena to rip down the hallways as soon as the door was closed much to the confusion of the would-be criminals. He remembers the fear he felt when Mena seemingly fell out a window with the next shot being one of them lying on their stomach on the ground only for the next scene to reveal they had pulled the old switcheroo. He remembers the end when their parents finally came home and were glad that them burglars didn’t get their most precious treasures- their daughters. 

Most of all he remembers glancing over at the empty seat next to him and wondering if these were the sort of antics him and Jesse were meant to get up to. His mama never kept his brother a secret from him, always telling him how he’d have the strength of two, but he always knew on some level she would have preferred two regularly strong boys rather than just one really strong one. 

That feeling he got when looking at the vacant seat next to him is the same feeling he gets everytime he looks at his Hillcrest home now. The realization as to how fundamentally empty a home is without a family to fill it. 

Fate denied him his brother before he even entered the world. Death had snatched his mother out from under him. And that horrible Stanley woman was working double time to take his daddy away from him too. He’s not about to let Jimi keep him away from any more of his family, just because she wants to be stubborn.

Now, knowing of their existence he knows he needs them in his life. He needs her in his life. 

The PI didn’t disappoint, when you got enough money and notoriety in this town, they tend not to. He hardly batted an eye when Elvis had mentioned that there were kids out there that were potentially his, though he did give a funny look when Elvis told him he actually wanted him to dig up proof that he was the father, which is apparently rather novel in this town. 

Though what the PI brings back is painful in its own way. He mostly focused on what could be dug up through paper records both legally and illegally obtained: house deeds, birth certificates, medical records, wills etc.

That’s how he finally learns the names of his children.

Alejandro and Mireya.

Big names for babies that are so little, he thinks to himself. Only to realize that they will one day grow into them, and he’s wasting time not being with them. 

By all accounts, Jimi’s doing just fine: house is paid off, bills get paid on time, food is plenty, and she’s apparently in the market for a nanny. But a deeper look revealed that she’s pissing through her savings right now and with the way things are going she’ll be out of money in maybe another ten years, something she must have realized if she came back to work at all. Elvis finds himself exasperated that her stubbornness will cause her and the little ones to sink before she ever thinks to ask for help.

But it's the few and far between snapshots of the little family that threaten to do Elvis in. He has to fight the urge to frame them as they are all so wonderfully domestic. Strolls through the park, trips to ice cream shop, stops at the grocery store, and everything else that would paint the perfect family portrait of a young, beautiful mother and her two adorable babies. 

Everything except for a father. 

Though some of the most painful ones to look at were the ones from her day at the beach with them. He can almost pretend that he is the one behind the camera, that he took these pictures of her and the little ones on a family outing and not in fact a shameless voyeur of the life that should by all rights be his. In one of them, they were facing the camera as they looked out to the vast ocean before them, Jimi crouched down by the shore line as she held their little hands so they could properly get their feet wet. She wears a wrap around her one piece bathing suit in a facsimile of modesty and he already knows she turned a few heads that day. Little Alejandro is wearing a swim ring and practically wrapped around Jimi’s leg while Mireya’s wearing little floaties and pulling on her mama’s hand to try to go deeper.

So wholesome and idyllic, he can practically picture the entire day in his head. 

How he would come up behind her and swing them back and forth on the shore line as though he were about to toss them in while they squealed in delight.

How he would play with them in the sand until she insisted on them taking a nap under the umbrella while their parents could have a breather to have lunch. 

How she would lay beside them and from his position he could shamelessly leer at their mothers figure. 

How the day would knock them out on the car ride home and they would both quietly bring the little ones in the house and place them in their cribs and how she would wrap herself around his arm as they both gazed down at the two little miracles before them.

How he would bend her over right outside the hallway and fuck her raw so that they would never have a day at the beach without babies. 

If that wasn't what Norman Rockwell pictured for the ideal family life, he doesn’t know what is.

Those last few weeks of shooting, he could hardly function knowing they were all out there, the few who knew what he was going through were unsure how to approach him. Some learned quickly that he wasn’t about to be questioned on this, others had to learn the hard way. 

After the last day of shooting, Elvis would only idly register the fact that he had been sitting on a lounge chair staring vacantly at the pool. He hadn’t meant to, he just remembers after breakfast wondering how he’ll probably teach them how to swim there, and then all of a sudden the sun had already set for the day. 

His buddies had apparently gotten so worried, they had ended up calling in reinforcements. 

“Now my boy,” a familiar voice would say behind him. “I hear we been losin’ focus lately.”

As though on reflex Elvis feels his jaw clench in distaste. In a way the colonel was the best and worst choice to be the one to come talk to him. The worst because after learning what he knows, he wants little to do with the man anymore and the best because he needs someone to take out all this anger on before he can see the mother of his children again.

So Elvis really has to put all of his acting abilities to work at this moment, as he plasters on a phony grin and grits the teeth he’s liable to start gnashing at any moment. “I reckon I been more focused now than I been in a long time, Colonel.”

Bypassing what he just said, the man sits down on the lounge chair right next to him. “That’s not what I been hearin’ ‘from your buddies.” Elvis can see he has the clown head cane, which he adds to the list of things he’s finding infuriating about the man. 

“And what they been sayin’?” 

“How an old flame reared her head recently and has been getting in your head with some foolish notions of slowing down now of all times,” he says. “My boy, I warned you ‘bout women like this before. They can’t appreciate the hard work we been doin’ to make this life here, and simply will take from men ike us.”

As sour of a taste as that statement leaves in his mouth, that at the very least confirms that Parker doesn’t know dogshit about the sitation. He’s reminded of that time how she complained she never has time to take a cigarette break or something will catch on fire. Something that was proven true only moments after she put one in her mouth and then ten men were screaming fire. She would casually stroll up to it, extinguisher in hand, and use the inferno from the stagelight to light her cigarette before putting it out. 

“You don’t gotta worry no more, my boy,” he starts patting around his jacket, only to pull out two cigars and a set of matches. This and the story gives him an idea as to how to prove his own convictions.

“Why’s that Colonel?” Suspecting what he’s getting at, but willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. 

“I had a word with the young lady you were so fond of back in New Orleans,” he started, every word of his making Elvis want to scratch his own skin off. “And rest assured we came to an agreement after a few words from yours truly,” he says as though that will somehow placate him. “She wants nothing more than for us to leave her and her little ones alone, and of course we can accommodate that,” he lights up a celebratory cigar and hands his client one as well as though they were in some anti stork club.  

He once made the mistake of calling the Colonel something of a father figure to him, and he’s never been more disgusted with himself than right now. But he stays silent as he lets the “Colonel” before him dig his own grave. 

“Trust me son, I get the urge to want to settle down,” he reassures him. “But you’re young and it ain’t like you don’t got all the options in the world. Next time ‘round you can have some babies with a proper American girl”

The Colonel doesn’t know it yet, but this statement truly solidifies his fate. 

He doesn’t get it. None of these assholes get it. How can they? They ain’t ever lost someone like he did, like she did. They can’t see the value of family because they think that he can just make more of them with someone else? As though forces of a higher power hadn’t gone out of their way to bring them together. 

Elvis can do nothing more than kiss his teeth at the older man’s ignorance, as he slowly but deliberately grabs the cigar from his mouth and looks him dead in the eye as he slowly stamps out the cigar on the unvarnished wooden side table. 

Jimi was right. Words are nothing at the end of the day and it’ll be actions that will show them all how fucking serious he is about this.

“Those are my babies, and she’s my girl. And I ain’t gonna hear nothin’ more ‘bout it.” Elvis gets the pleasure of watching the Colonel gape like a fish only to then go red in the face as he goes back and forth between him and the small flames that are now beginning to dance on the table. He cuts him off before he can get another word in edgewise. “‘Sides I think marryin’ her would do wonders for my reputation down south.”

The portly man is surprised by his clients words and tries to quickly recover from the shock. “Son, I-I don’t think there’s notin’ down there we need to worry ‘bout,” he scolds as though Elvis were a child, trying desperately to reign him in.

“I used to think the same thing, ‘till I hired that PI to look into Jimi…” Elvis starts as he cuts the cigar, not even bothering to acknowledge the man’s concerns, “... and a few other things.”

“...what other things?”

“Funny you mention that Colonel. I had him look into where the hell those quotes came from. Y’know the ones that got me banned from Mexico. And boy did he have a story to tell,” his words are comically gleeful as he brings the cigar to his mouth. “One with high up there politicians, birthday parties, and blank checks. A story… my manager apparently knew all too well, but ain’t ever bothered to tell me.”

The only thing that could be heard in the moment was the light crackling from the flames between the two of them, and from it’s light Elvis can see the way that the sweat seems to pour off of the man in front of him. They both know that it has nothing to do with the fire.

“So-son, this is… it’s-it’s more complicated than you think,” Parker stutters, trying to desperately wrench back control of the situation. But Elvis already knows that the next chance he gets, he’s gonna cut ties with him… but Parker certainly doesn’t. And so for the time being he still has a role to play in this production. 

“Now there’s two ways to take this,” Elvis says leaning back on the wicker chair as the flames begin to get higher and higher, attracting the attention of his boys outside, and they rush to try to do something about it. One single hand gesture from him has them all frozen in place, awaiting his command. 

Good, these motherfuckers needed to be reminded who exactly is in charge here, even if he had to burn this whole place to the ground. 

“One, a simple mistake that my manager made and will now do anythin’ to fix if he wants even a chance at his contract bein’ renewed pretty soon… or two…” he brings the still unlit cigar to the now three foot flames on the table beside him, the closest thing he’s done to acknowledge them. He even briefly blows out the flame on his cigar, really trying to draw it out, enjoying the way it makes the older man squirm in his seat. It’s only right considering how much grief he caused trying to hide his secret so long. But if Jimi had taught him anything about Hollywood, is that shit like this don’t stay buried forever. “My manager for some reason can’t leave the country and didn’t want me leavin’ it neither.” 

It's an interesting experience to watch a man go from red in the face to completely white in horror. He opens and closes his mouth in disbelief more than a few times as though god himself will put the words in his mouth to smooth over this misstep. Any doubts Elvis had about the PI’s story melted away with each little tick the man before him made. 

Jimi had taught him what makes for a good and bad actor, and boy oh boy did Parker make for a shitty one: the shifty beady eyes, the nervous tapping on his cane, the constant swallowing and clearing of his throat. 

“So Colonel,” he states with a smoky breath, and no amount of venom missing from his voice for the man that- albeit unintentionally- cost him so much time with his family. “What’s it gonna be?”

The flames are by now as tall as a full grown man, and the fire has now fully engulfed the low table that was once there. All the boys are nervously shifting and shuffling about, wanting to put it out before it can get out of hand, but the hand that Elvis holds toward them keeps them in place, not a single one of them willing to go against him. 

The message is clear to everyone though: give him what he wants or he will burn them all, and not just metaphorically. 

“I-I,” the old man stutters looking down at his feet undoubtedly looking for help even from Hades himself, only to see as an ember finds a new home on his lone client’s pant leg. 

Elvis does not acknowledge this. 

Parker looks back up at him, only now comprehending who the hell he is dealing with. 

“I’ll see what I can do my boy,” he finally answers breathlessly.

“Now that’s what I like to hear, Parker,” he gives an amiable clap to his shoulder before gesturing to the rest to take care of the inferno before them. They’re all in a dead sprint to deal with the fire and Elvis gives his foot a cursory dip in the pool to extinguish the flames creeping up his ankle, before walking away without another word to any of them. 

With the Colonel and everyone else willing to do anything to get back in his good graces, things seem to run a lot smoother now. 

Finding a lawyer willing to handle paternity suits is easy enough in this town, finding one that is willing to fight to establish his status as their father however… practically every lawyer that was consulted said it was near impossible for them to do so without the mother’s consent. Without even knowing who exactly they were meant to be representing they said the whole thing would be a wash if at the end of the day the mother remains obstinate against it, and regardless of any blood tests, no judge would believe that a woman would willingly say no to the support a man like Elvis could offer if it wasn’t the absolute truth that he wasn’t the father. 

Needless to say that Elvis could only rely on the legal route so much. Though he did learn a few interesting things as to what would happen to children if the mother is deemed unfit.

And from there, he begins to cook up a truly awful and perhaps downright evil plan but he knows that the prize is worth the risk.

It’s gonna rely on all of his skills as an actor, and she’s been in the business too long to not know an act when she sees one. But he has one major advantage over Jimi in this department: She already expects the worst from him, so him doing this wouldn’t be a stretch in her eyes.  

Even threatening to dig a little deeper into whether or not they were his, made her pull back even more, she’s not gonna make this easy for him, and part of him doubts he would want it to be so. He knows he’s not without options, and that women would practically tear down the door to be the one to give him babies.

But how can he just let her go? 

Jesse couldn’t be here with him, that’s why he sent her his way. Elvis needed someone who would look out for him no matter what. And with Elena gone, Jimi needed someone to look out for. The two of them fit together like puzzle pieces really.

So he has to be smart about this. Nothing gradual because she will bolt the second she even gets a hint as to what he’s planning. So he takes a step back and allows the PI to learn all he can about her new schedule and what she’s got in the works. 

She’s still working for Paramount, though only barely, as she now apparently only comes in once a week to talk with directors and drop off designs. Though it’s clear this is not for much longer as she’s apparently been tapped by some production company down in Mexico to come work for their wardrobe department. 

It becomes apparent that he needs to work quickly if he wants to pull off his plan, when his request to have her work on his next movie is denied for the simple fact that she is apparently only sticking around Paramount long enough to finish off a few other productions. He’s honestly a little glad for this change, it just means he can put his plan to action a little earlier and they can be together sooner. 

So it’s not even a week after the end of production does he find himself standing in front of her small, new house in East LA. 

Elvis knows his influence on women, and despite what the papers say, he’s tried to use this for good. So when he walks up to Jimi’s door and knock, he does admittedly ham it up with the hand to lean on the door frame and the slightly unkempt hair falling over his forehead, a look he knows would make any woman weak in the knees. Especially a 13 year old babysitter.

The girl (Letty, he’s pretty sure the PI said), seems to be confused more than anything else, uncomprehending as to who stands before her. She’s far from the first or last to have this reaction but it shows that Jimi is playing her cards far too close to her chest that she wouldn’t know why he’s here.  

“This here’s Jimena’s place?” He asks though he already knows the answer from the PI that’s getting paid hourly. 

“Ye-yes,” she stutters, reaching a hand out only to quickly snatch it back as she confirmed he was really here. 

“Perfect,” he grins, and he sees her look down bashfully. “I’m here to pick up the babies.”

This confuses the poor girl even more. “She… didn’t mention that.” Elvis has to hold himself back from telling her she couldn’t keep a father away from his children, but honeys and flies and all that. 

“It’s a bit of a surprise for her.” He answers.

She’s still apparently unsure of herself, as she gives a weak point back inside the house as she says,“I-I think I sh-should ma-maybe call her.”

“How much you gettin’ paid by her?” he asks affably, though a little annoyed at the girl continuing to keep him from his babies.

“Five dollars a day and an autographed picture of Marlon Brando,” she answers, though she looks back down at her feet, as though embarrassed to be talking about another star she preferred in front of him. He doesn’t take it to heart, remembering Jimi complaining how she had more autographs than she knew what to do with.

“How ‘bout this,” he pulls out his wallet. “I’ll give you 50 and get you a personal meeting with Marlon, if you get the lil’ ones ready to come with me for the day and don’t say nothin’ to no one ‘bout whatcha saw today.” 

The teen gapes like a fish at the offer and though Elvis knows it’s good for his plan that she didn’t automatically refuse his proposition, it is nonetheless disheartening that this is the girl Jimi had entrusted his babies to. 

“I-I-I,” she looks at her feet, as though they’ll have the answers for the dilemma. “I don’t think I can let them g-go with a stranger.” she puts a bit more of her weight onto the door fully intending to close it. 

“That’s the best part kid,” he pressed a palm to the door. “I ain’t a stranger to her.” The girl has no idea what kind of danger she’s in, and Elvis attributes that almost solely to Jimi’s influence. What’s a few lies when he knows he would do far worse if she dares to keep him away from his children any longer. 

“Don’t let them papers know this,” he says in a conspiratorial whisper, full well-knowing that’s exactly who she’s gonna go straight to the moment she gets the chance to do so. “Y’see their mama and I… well we been seein’ each other for awhile, and now stubborn women she is, she don’t wanna go no further ‘til I can prove I’m ‘father material’ so I came down here to prove her wrong.” 

She furrows her brow in confusion until her eyes go wide. “Wait… go further? As in…” 

He takes a page out of Jimi’s book and gives a pursed grin while his eyes slide away from her, not even trying to deny her assumptions. Seeing her hold a hand to her mouth to cover her dramatic gasp, Elvis would like to think Jimi would be proud as to see how far his acting abilities have come. 

The girl is apparently all too eager to play cupid as she quickly invites him in with a big grin on her face and ushers him towards a sitting room. Despite how cool he’s playing it he’s a nervous wreck on the inside, feeling like he’s about to walk into a test he knew he didn’t study well enough for. 

But that all disappears the moment he lays eyes on them. 

They can already do so much, he thinks as he watches them play though they don’t notice him,  Mireya holding a whole baby conversation with her stuffed animals in between trying to feed them dry cheerios while Alejandro is making little humming noises around the pacifier in his mouth as he crawls to drive his little fire truck around. Eventually the tiny boy drove the toy straight into Elvis’ foot. 

The small boy looks up at the new figure, and with the way he looks at him, Elvis doubts he remembers him. So he tries not to take it too personally when the boy silently gets up and scrambles behind one of the couches, only to then peek over the corner, as though to make sure he’s still there. 

“Ale, Mimi, come say hi,” the young teen says in a soft voice before she turns around and leaves him alone with them. Those names feel much more fitting of the small babies he’s pictured in his head, and even more fitting as he leans against the door frame of the little sitting room.

Mimi almost immediately begins to toddle over to him with a little stuffed doggy tucked underneath her arm. She looks at him and again there is not an ounce of recognition in her eyes as she merely approaches him wraps her arms around one of his shins before immediately going back to her toys. 

So much for the instant connection he was hoping to have with them, but he tries not to get too discouraged with this as he approaches. He crouches down next to his daughter and picks up a stuffed monkey and uses it to tickle her neck a little, and that has her shrieking in delight.

This does seem to settle Ale somewhat as he slowly comes from behind the couch to watch the two of them. Though he plops down right between them with his engine in tow and gives a wary look toward Elvis as though he means to act as her protector. He didn’t know it was possible to have a skeptical look while sucking on a pacifier, but his son somehow manages to do just that.

Elvis notices something in the boy's front overall pocket and when he reaches a hand to investigate it, his son is quick to react with an overhead swat to the intruding hand. Elvis can’t help but laugh at how very Jimi that reaction is. 

Before he knows it the bags are all packed and it’s time to go. Ale looks more confused than scared as Elvis picks him up with his wide brown eyes, while Mimi on the other hand is in awe of being so high up and she immediately starts trying to reach for things that he thinks would usually be out of reach when held by her mama. 

In the last few days he’s had ample time to imagine what exactly it would feel like to hold them in his arms, but all of it pales in comparison to the phenomena of the experience. Elvis is a man that has dabbled in many pleasures over the years yet all of that pales in comparison to just the utter rightness of this moment. 

It’s an indescribable, euphoric feeling that makes him never want to let go of either of them, even if one is seeming indifferent to him while the other tries to squirm out of his grasp.

He had been prepared to sneak out the back with them or pass them out the window to Jerry before sneaking to the car, hell he contemplated that he would even have to simply grab them and run. He never in a million years would’ve imagined it was as easy as scooping them both up in his arms and taking a brisk walk out the front door to the car while the babysitter hands over a baby bag to him. 

The fact that it was so easy was just further proof that he needed to get them out of there. What if it had been some crazy man that came in today and not him that took them? 

“E.P. What the fuck?” Jerry asks, more tired than confused. 

“Let’s get goin’ already.” 

The car ride gives him some time to truly appreciate how beautiful his babies are.  

Mimi has Jimi’s thick dark hair and her pouty lips, and those coupled with the cornflower blue gaze that came from him, he can already hear the heart's (and the kneecaps, Elvis will personally see to it) breaking across the country. And where Ale seems almost his exact copy, he can see Jimena’s touches here and there with the way his hair curls or the slight upturn of his nose. Truly it would be a crime to deprive the world of more pretty children like these two. 

Mimi in turn seems to also be fascinated by his face, and he takes a few playful nibbles that has her squealing in delight. Though she does lose a bit of interest in him as the car starts and she gets to see the world around her rush past her. She makes sure to point out every animal she sees whether it be a dog, a cat, or even a squirrel, and Elvis finds himself enjoying every moment of it as it feels like he’s looking at this whole city through a new lens.

“Mida, mida,” she squeals in her tiny voice as she points to a bird. “pajado!”

Ale on the other hand is just looking up at him owl-eyed, too in shock as to what’s going on around to look at anything but at his father. He clutches on to his little firetruck like a shield still unsure of this whole thing but Elvis takes it as a small victory that he isn’t balling his eyes out. Elvis resorts to trying to make faces at him to get him to crack even a little though it becomes apparent that what this kid lacks in looks from his mother, he more than makes up for by having her personality, as he barely twitches at any face. Granted it is hard to tell around the pacifier he refuses to part with. 

Jerry remains blessedly quiet for the rest of the car trip though Elvis doesn’t miss the occasional stolen glance from his young friend. The man -boy, really- had initially been on the side of letting sleeping dogs lie, and now Elvis pushes down the petty urge to hold up his own son to his face and have him try to deny his own image. 

Elvis’ living room could honestly give Santa's workshop a run for his money with the sheer amount of toys and playthings that occupy it now. All his boys had apparently been working overtime trying to make Elvis forget how skeptical they had been in his beliefs, and trying to worm their way back into his good graces. 

His daughter practically dives headfirst into the large pile of stuffed animals to be had, meanwhile his son stands in the middle of a treasure trove of toys, his red engine hanging limply from his hand, practically overwhelmed by choice. He eventually does settle on a set of blocks that he takes to stacking up only to ram his truck into the makeshift tower. Elvis can’t help the chest swelling contentment he feels in that moment seeing his babies love their new home so much.

He hardly sees anybody else all day, and he’s glad for it. He didn’t want any of them sticking around too long, as this was his chance to bond with his babies properly, and he didn’t need any of them to distract them. Aside from the occasional maid coming in to bring snacks or to change a dirty diaper, he gets an entire uninterrupted afternoon with the two. 

Mimi was so eager to play with him and show him all of her little toys, with her favorites being the little stuffed dog she hadn’t let go of, it’s neck floppy as she clutched it in her tiny baby hand. 

Ale thinks he’s subtle as he eyeballs Elvis most of the afternoon. He is not. He all but gapes at him when he thinks he’s not looking, only to turn around and try his darndest to look very busy with his blocks or cars when Elvis looks over to him. 

He tries to approach the toddler, only for the boy to rebuff him each and every time by shuffling to the opposite end of the room, and setting up shop there. Elvis has to remind himself to be patient, knowing that his son is handling being in a new strange place with a man he only barely knows better than most kids would so he has to let the boy approach him first. 

He could tell just by the way he watched Mimi like a hawk, that he was the older of the two, the same way Jimi always said she was with her sister. His weary attitude towards him only began to thaw out when Mimi stumbled over a block, somewhat able to catch herself on her hands but that doesn’t prevent her from still hitting her little forehead on the carpeted floor. Immediately father and son are at her side to comfort the wailing girl, Elvis crouching down to pick her up and rubbing her back, trying to imitate the few times he’d seen mothers do this, while Ale not fully understanding what’s wrong with her, only to tries to climb his father to try to take the girl in his own little arms and rest his head on her back. 

After a few more tears and she had been allowed to thoroughly ruin his shirt, Mimi was able to calm down and go back to playing as usual. Ale seems to only then realize that he had gotten close to his father, and nothing bad had happened, so blessedly he doesn’t seem entirely too opposed to his presence anymore. 

The only major hiccup of the entire evening was when Ale had entrusted Elvis with his most treasured toy. Elvis almost burst into tears when his son had reached into the front pocket of his overalls to pull out a small matchbox car, one that appeared to have been red at one point but had since faded into a light pink. 

This coupled with Mimi’s favorite stuffed toy being a stuffed beagle… Elvis is not one to just name anything as signs from God, but those two together had to mean something.

And it’s frustrating to say the least that Jimi refuses to see this. 

The twins begin to wind down around the evening, with full bellies and comfy pajamas on it’s not too long before Mimi practically falls asleep where she was playing, her little bottom in the air as she drooled all over her little blue doggy that now acts as a pillow.

Ale is far more stubborn about the whole thing, refusing to sleep even as he jealously looks over to his sister before stubbornly rubbing at his dark eyes and continuing to play with his toy cars. 

“Don’t go down so easy now do ya’ son?” Elvis says as though he’s actually commiserating over his miserable sleep with a friend and not his toddler son. “You get that from me,” The boy at the very least now tolerates him being so close, but Elvis isn’t going to try to push it by picking him up. Instead he would gently pick up his daughter and hold her in one arm, while offering the other to his son, a clear invitation to the boy.

In spite of all his mulishness, Ale does eventually give in and makes little grabby hands signaling he wants to be picked up, and Elvis does admittedly melt a little at the sight. He’s quick to accept the invitation and picks the little boy up and takes them upstairs. 

The nursery room as of right now is pretty barebones, having had to rearrange many things in the house, so as to make it a home for his family. But he thinks his boys managed to at least get the essentials with a crib and a rocking chair, and he figures that they can build from there. 

The experience of not just holding his children at the same time but of actually getting to do the fatherly thing of singing them to sleep is incomparable to anything he’s ever had the chance to experience. Something so new, yet at the same time feeling like his whole life was leading up to this point. Mimi’s already asleep and he knows better than to wake a sleeping baby, so he sets her down in the crib first before sitting down in the rocking chair with his son in tow. Elvis admittedly doesn’t have a wide knowledge of lullabies, and he briefly panics for a moment until remembering the one he’s performed maybe a dozen times in the last few months.

They call your daddy Big Boots

And Big Boots is his name

It takes a big man to wear big boots

That's your daddy's claim to fame

It feels only appropriate to sing this to his own son, and in a way he’s glad that he performed this before meeting either of them. He doubted he would’ve been able to keep it together singing this to any other child now, knowing they were out there. Much to his relief, Ale eases up a little on his chest, resting his chin on his arms to better look at his father, not so defensive anymore. 

Gonna tell you a little secret

You won't believe it's true

Did you know your daddy, Big Boots

Once wore little boots like you

Ale for the first time today removes his pacifier from his mouth and presses his tiny hand to Elvis mouth, seemingly entranced by the music leaving it and unbelieving that this is coming from a man and not a radio. 

But where he was barely keeping it together while singing, Elvis can’t help his reaction when Ale lets out a soft little “daaa…” 

His throat seems to close up and he has to blink away a few tears, but that doesn’t lessen the grin on his face. “Th-that’s right son,” he breathes, through quivering lips, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “I’m your daddy.”

Something about that statement seems to settle something in the boy, as he finally puts his head on his chest and his breathing seems to even out. It’s as though he had been the ever vigilant man of the house. But now knowing that his daddy was home, he can finally lay his head down and rest. 

Eventually he has to put him down once he sees Mimi start to fuss in her sleep, waving an arm around and grasping for something, but she quickly relaxes once her brother is within her grasp. 

Elvis sits to watch them for a time, they’re simply so hypnotic to observe. The way they breathe in tandem and seem to gravitate toward each other, in a world of their own right now. It makes him wistful for the brother he never got to know. But wherever his brother may be right now, he feels joy that he can carry out his will and finally have a whole family once more.  

One look out at the sun setting and the clouds rolling outside his windows, he knows it won’t be too long before she arrives. He wants to be able to relax but he knows he won’t be able to until all of his family is under his roof. But he knows her well enough, to know she’ll be home soon. 

Finally he sees an unfamiliar pair of headlights shine behind the gates, before coming to a screeching halt and a familiar silhouette stands in front of the lights, to give a futile shake at the front gate. He can imagine she’s yelling to be let in, even muffled through the patter of the rain starting to really come down and the thunder rolling in the distance, he can just barely make out her voice. 

He sees Lamar unlock the gate for her, but the moment his guard is let down she takes off running towards the front, which is when Elvis takes this as his cue to start heading down to meet her. 

She was in no way prepared for this weather if her near see-through white blouse was anything to go by. Her makeup is running slightly, streaking down her cheeks making it impossible to figure out if it was rain or tears running down her face. All fury and passion, just like he loves her. 

She angrily stomps past him, still trying to ignore him only for him to block her with his full body.

“How many times?” she grits out. “How many times must I turn you away?”

“I don’t know darlin’,” he whispers in a just as low voice. “As many times as it takes ‘til you figure out I ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

“Cut the crap Elvis!” she shouts. “Where are they!?”

He responds with a single finger to his smirking lips. “If you wake ‘em, you gotta put ‘em down again.”

This immediately has her try to run past him towards the bedrooms, but he catches her in one arm over her waist and he sits her on the dining room table, sure to plant his hands on her knees so she doesn’t get any ideas. 

“That’s enough Elvis,” she tries to rip his hands away from her. The way she’s all clenched up, lets him know that she would scream at him if it were an option. “You’ve had your fun, now just let us go.” 

He just further smirks. “Y’know after all the things I learned ‘bout the last two years for you, I kept askin’ myself one thang,” he says pushing himself off the table to stalk towards her. “‘Why the hell is she still here?’”

Her jaw clenches tight at this, unwilling to meet his eyes. “I had to do what I had to do to support My babies.”

“Considerin’ what my guy dug up,” he starts making his way towards the table that has had her whole life laid out upon it. “You coulda worked anywhere else and left Hollywood behind a long time ago.” The heavy clench of her jaw and the daggers in her eyes tell him he’s getting close to the bullseye. “No,” he says, holding her chin between his fingers. “You stayed cuz you was waitin’ for me to get back.”

This infuriates her and she gives him a good shove, but he’s no longer in the mood to indulge her little tantrum so he stays put. 

“Is that what you wanna fucking hear Elvis, then fine! They’re yours!” she shouts, a bit of a tremble in her voice. “Are you happy now? Will it help you sleep better at night knowing they’re yours? ”

“I’ll sleep better knowin’ they’re under my roof.”

She freezes at this admission. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“I’m talkin’ ‘bout the fact that you and the little ones are gonna be movin’ in with me.”

The silence that passes is near deafening and he gets the pleasure of seeing the reality of the situation set in in her face. She gives a short mirthless but undoubtedly forced laugh but there’s no denying the fear in her eyes. 

Good.

After all, she was the one that wanted this when she wanted so badly to make him a villain in this. He’s not, he’s a father. 

“All this time, I thought you were stupid,” she says, that sardonic, slightly scared, laugh still laced in her tone. “Turns out you’re just fucking crazy.” Anybody else he would’ve been offended, but he lets her barbs slide right off his back, because truly words are all that she has left anymore. He’ll let her have them. “In what world do you think this is gonna play out like you want it?”

He gives a soft smile and raises a hand to take her chin, only for her to quickly smack it away. 

“The world the studio pays for.” 

She gives a derisive snort, “And you think they’re gonna pay for you to ruin your image.”

He simply smirks at her, finding her ignorance cute. For all that she knows how to work the system, he understands how the system works. More importantly he understands that the system works for him. His only direct response is to slide her the papers his people drafted up for him.

“What the fuck are these?” she asks, her voice lower, trying to mask her genuine confusion.

“That there is the copy of the marriage license ‘you’” he uses air quotes, “signed six hours ago, and an officiant from the studio officially signed off on these.”

“I-I don’t understand,” she says, her voice smaller than he’s ever heard from her.

“Now Jimi let me tell you two stories, only one of ‘em’s gonna be in tomorrow’s paper,” he says, gently rubbing her cheek that she quickly slaps away. He retaliates just as swiftly with his hand splayed across her collarbone to lay her back on to the large dining table, just below the neck, not enough to choke her, but just enough to remind her who the fucking man of this house is. “One is how I went and got married to a single-mother of twins and I adopted them as my own.”

“I would neve-”

“Or…” he cuts in as he puts a little more pressure on her neck. “And this one is the one the studio prefers… I marry some random girl they pick out for me and we end up adopting two poor little orphans, ���cause their mama decided to run off to Mexico in the middle of the night.”

Almost like he planned it, he can hear the thunder roll in the distance as the threat hangs in the air. In his heart he knows he would never go through with this, but Jimi doesn’t have to know. 

All the anger drops from her face at that moment, in its place he sees something he’s never seen in her eyes: bold-faced fear. She showed her hand the other day when she told him why she wanted to keep the secret. He didn’t want to have to do this to her, but if it’s between having her fear him and staying with him vs not and her walking away, he will pick fear every single time. 

He needs them in his life.

He needs her in his life. 

“So you choose darlin’, which ones it gonna be,” he takes her chin between his fingers. She flinches slightly but knows she’s in no position to turn away from him now. “Either way… they’re comin’ with me.” 

Elvis is not a gambling man, and he wouldn’t do this unless he knew what her answer was gonna be. She’s just as crazy for family as he is, she wouldn’t be able to handle not being able to have them. She’s probably the only one who is capable of understanding what he would do for those two as he has no doubt that she wouldn’t do the same in his shoes. 

But between the two of them, only one of them had an entire studio willing to do whatever it takes to protect his image, no matter the expense. 

And for all her worldliness and experience, she knows full well what happens when you get on the wrong side of the studios. She spent the better part of two years trying to prevent them from learning this, because making her disappear and having her babies get lost in the system would have been nothing to them. 

He’s proud of her ability to successfully keep her and their babies alive in his absence, but he’s over her needlessly defiant nature to insist that they’ll never need him again.

He wouldn’t say he’s proud to see that defeated look in her eyes, but he does get the sense of relief knowing that he’s not going to lose anymore family today. 

“Let me see them,” she whispers, barely audible over the rainfall just outside the window. He wraps an arm around her shoulders and he’s practically giddy that she didn’t try to stop him. 

He finds them just where he left them, sleeping soundly knowing that their father is here to protect them, even from their mothers stubbornness. Ale is spread out like a starfish, one foot continually nudging his sister, while one hand is tightly balled up and a thumb in his mouth. Mimi on the other hand is squirming a bit, her little sock covered feet restlessly kicking at the blanket and her brow furrowed in her sleep. On pure instinct alone Elvis rubs a soothing hand on her belly until she’s calmed down enough and he quickly tucks her back in. 

The look of surprise on her face wasn’t part of the plan but is welcome nonetheless. “Y’see how important a daddy is sweetheart?” he whispers into her ear. 

He doesn’t exactly love the tears now freely falling out of her eyes, but he 

“I’ll stay,” she whispers, through her tears. “I’m staying for them.” She asserts but the words feel so hollow now. Even still he rewards her acquiescence with a kiss, more for himself and having been so patient for her. 

Even with her promises to stay now he knows that this is far from over. He knows that the next time she has them both in her arms is gonna be the next time she makes a break for it. He’s already let everybody know to never leave her alone with them, and he’s got some things in the works to make sure to make her face as recognizable as his own so she doesn’t get any ideas of trying to disappear. He’s even got a hail mary plan in his back pocket to deal with that doctor just in case he ever needs something big to keep her at his side.

But one thing he can absolutely do right now is work to get another baby in her so running won’t be so easy next time. A message she gets loud and clear the moment he works the zipper of her skirt down the mouth-watering curve of her ass. 

“Elvis please,” she half-heartedly bats away his hands. “Not tonight…” 

He’s been on a winning streak of getting exactly what he wants lately, and he’s not about to let her break that. He backs her against the wall of the hallway only to then nestle himself between her legs.

“C’mon baby,” he whispers in her ear, and he’s glad he can still get that same shuddering reaction from her, he remembers all too well. “It’s our weddin’ night and we gotta get to work makin’ it all official. ‘Sides you owe me more babies for keepin’ ‘em away so long.” 

He can’t help but be reminded of that beach fantasy he had not too long ago and while he would love to make that into a reality, he figures that he at the very least owes her more than a dirty quickie in the hallway for their wedding night. 

Besides, they'll have all the time for that in Hawaii.

So instead he opts for the classic groom move of lifting her up in his arms and carrying her into his -now their- bedroom. He doesn’t care none to be gentle with her clothes, she’ll be lucky if he cares to be gentle with her tonight after all the shit she’s put him through. 

Ever the contrarian, she obstinately looks out the window and looks as though she wishes to be anywhere else right now as he peels the wet clothes off of her body. He’s been half-hard since she walked through his door, but little Elvis stands at full attention now that he can behold his wife fully. He finds the cosmetic differences that having his children has caused her body, with the near invisible stripes he feels on her belly and her temptingly darker nipples, but what he sees first and foremost in her body is his future. 

That world-shattering knowledge that she will be where all of his seed is planted and he will never have to suffer being alone again. He has to push these thoughts aside lest he spill all over her belly like a green boy, and he has to remind himself that there’s no need to rush anymore now that he has her beneath him. 

He has to temper himself before he gets ahead of himself so he spreads her legs to dive head first for her pussy. 

He knows he has her when a simple kiss to her clit has her clenching her thighs over his ears. While it’s with reluctant acceptance does he acknowledge he wasn’t her first, he takes great pleasure knowing that he’ll be her last. It was frankly insane to believe that no one had ever done this to her before, as after he had gotten his first taste of her there was little else he wanted to do more than this. 

He remembers joking with her that he now understood where her womanly sweetness went given the lack of it in her personality. It’s true nonetheless, arguably she tastes even better than he remembers. Though he imagines it’s the same way a man dying of thirst calling his first sip of water the sweetest taste, considering how much he’s pined for her. 

Now that he’s been able to ensure she’s sufficiently wet enough he lets her hips fall back on to the bed, as he unbuckles himself, unwilling to waste another moment to undress himself, so that he can once more feel that connection he almost lost.  

Finally being able to slip into her feels like finally coming home, there’s truly no other way to describe it. He didn’t even get this feeling when he walked through the threshold of Graceland. 

“Elvis,” she sobs into his shoulder. For all the love she claims to have lost for him, her body has certainly not forgotten as he feels her thighs clench tightly around his hips, trying to keep him as close as possible. 

He quickly grabs a hold of the back of her knees and he forces them all the way back practically to her ribs. Her pleasured and shocked cries ring out though the room as her new position gives him a new angle to work with. He’s a man on a mission to ensure that he leaves a mark so deep that she’ll never be able to leave again. 

Forever, and just that thought alone has him frantically bucking into her over and over ripping her away from one orgasm to yet another as he chases his peak. One of the many he would have in that night alone, to try to make up for all the lost time. 

Once it’s all said and done and he’s sufficiently satisfied that her sleepiness isn’t being feigned, he carries her back to the bed properly so that she can rest and be ready to be the perfect mother for their two (hopefully more) little ones tomorrow. He wraps an arm around her, knowing how slippery she can be, and he rests easy knowing she’ll be there come morning.

Taglist

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[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

not sure if I've already requested this so sorry if I have haha,

but how would the m6 react to a mc with sh scars? if it's not too heavy of a topic for you, if it is, I completely understand that :)

The Arcana HCs: M6 when MC has SH scars

~ not too heavy at all, anon, I'd actually been hoping to write this at some point and your request gave me that excuse! to anyone else who relates a little too much: you're not alone, your pain is valid, and there is hope for you even when it doesn't feel like it - brainrot ~

CW for: references to scarring and self-harm. I can remember points in my life when this would have been triggering for me to read. If this would be triggering for you too, please prioritize your health.

Julian

He noticed early on that you'd get a strange look on your face when he mentioned being comfortable with experiencing pain, and he's been curious about why for some time

You generally found a way to hide them - whether with your clothes or in the low lighting - until after you defeated the Devil, which was when Julian was less distracted enough to notice more details

Like the unusual textures that appeared when your clothes shifted as you moved around your daily tasks, and how hellbent you seemed on immediately adjusting them

He waits to approach the subject until he knows you're both in a calm headspace, after the day is done as the two of you lounge in front of the fire with your dinner

He wants to hear your side of things, but the first thing he's going to ask is to let him look at them. He's a doctor, he loves you, and he wants to know the extent of the damage and how he can help your healing

Might cry a little, but hides it and refuses to make it about himself by pulling you into the biggest hug instead

It throws him into some serious self reflection, which leads to lots of late-night talks about self-destructive habits and how you two can best support each other in a way that's loving and not enabling

Will get a matching tattoo if you choose to cover them that way

Asra

The first time they saw them was right after your resurrection, and their heart sank right down into their feet

Here he felt like he'd just saved you, only to find that you'd not only woken up in a miserable state, but that the life you'd had before had been far more painful for you than he had been aware of

Which is when they became determined to give you such a good life and so much platonic love and support that the scars on your body would truly belong to a past life

The first time you asked him about why you had them, he said they were leftover from an old battle that you had fought very bravely. Going into any more detail only made your headaches worse

They did watch your behavior and mood closely, though, in case you started to fight that battle again. They never judged you for them or offered to smooth them over

After you defeated the Devil together, he told you the truth about them and what they meant, even though he didn't know the details of why you had them

It was also their chance to give you an apology for not noticing before you died, when they were still your friend and cared about you. They know it's not their fault, but the guilt was still there

He kisses them every morning and night

Nadia

She's heard vague stories from her family members about people who were in so much pain that they would self harm, but she'd never seen such a strong example in person

Which is why she initially assumed they were the result of some fierce battle or tragedy, and planned to ask you later

She first noticed them when she was fitting you for a new outfit, and saw how hesitant you were to let her look at them. Everything she's made for you since covers them completely

She finally asks about them several months into your relationship, expecting you to either not remember or to hear a moving story of conquering some fierce enemy or fighting for a loved one

To say that she doesn't expect your answer is an understatement. It surprises her so much that her only response is "oh," in an unusually small voice, before moving on to the next topic

She's able to process it the next time she's alone, when she's struck both by her awe at your capacity to fight something so dark and by her grief that you've been doing it without her all this time

Clears her next evening to have a private dinner with you, first so she can apologize for her initial response and second so she can invite you to tell her more about it and offer her support

Likes to dress you herself so you know you're not alone or unseen

Muriel

Knew exactly what they were as soon as he saw them, which was less than half a day into your travels South with Morga

And promptly refused to talk about it because he can relate to those dark impulses more than he'd like to and because he didn't see it as being any of his business. But he does start to watch you

He watches for any sign of pain, he watches how you fix your clothes, he watches how your gaze falls on any sharp object, because even if it isn't his business he cares more than he expects

He becomes less and less discreet about how closely he's observing you until you finally notice it one evening, how the firelight falls on your scars and how his eyes fixate on them

At this point the reciprocated staring is so awkward that he'll do anything to fix the tension, so he shuffles and mumbles something along the lines of "You can talk about it if you want to. I don't mind."

So you do, and he gets hit square in the chest with how much he's come to care about you over the course of the trip

He's especially frustrated because he empathizes so deeply, and since he doesn't know how to fix himself, he's worried he'll only mess you up further

In the end, he learns to apply the kindness he feels towards you to himself as well, and sees your scars as valid as he sees his own

Portia

She's still very embarrassed (and slightly ashamed) for how things went the first time she saw them

She'd noticed something peeking out from your clothes, and how you seemed focused on covering them, and falsely assumed that it was some cool magical tattoo

Which only piqued her curiosity. This has to be juicy, and she's determined to get a closer look. Which is why, as soon as you'd become friends, she took her first chance to snatch a look

And then froze. And then dropped you, and then burst into tears. How could this happen, MC? Why would you do this to yourself? It looks like it must have hurt so much -

It's unfortunate but you're going to have to comfort her first while she works her way through the five stages of grief. She loves you, and she's heartbroken and confused about why this would happen

She needs time to process how she feels about it before she can listen to you without having a meltdown. Her normal response to self-destruction is a fist to the gut (Ilya) and that wouldn't do

Ends up following your cues when it comes to how she talks to you about it. If it's in the past, it's in the past. If it's a current struggle, then she's your partner. She'll be right next to you

She does think your fighting spirit makes you badass, though

Lucio

He's not great at noticing details unless they directly correspond to physical strengths and weaknesses. Any kind of scarring from a wound is (from his experience) a totally normal thing to see

When he starts to notice how you cover yours or get weird about them being touched, he asks about it right away

You've got such cool scars, MC, why are you hiding them? You should show them off so everyone knows how battle-tested you are! Here, he'll show his off too! *cue him stripping off his shirt*

It's a little difficult to know how best to respond to this. You're each other's life partners by now, he should probably know the truth, but you don't know how to burst his bubble

You do end up telling him later, once you're settling into your inn for the night, and watching the realization and hurt dawn across his face is anything but easy

MC, why? You deserve the best, you are the best, you're his best, you're telling him that you treated someone like yourself this poorly when you were showing him so much forgiveness?

He's not trying to guilt you at all, but it comes close to having that effect. The only thing he can think to do is hug you really really tight and hope it convinces you that you deserve better

Still refers to them as your battle scars, because to him they are

[fincik]

Been a while since I updated. Quick doodle with some story for y'all

First | Previous | Next

After the thorough explanation Vermon’s curiosity was satisfied. Though he still wanted to know who attacked them and why. Quickcell didn’t volunteer the information he knows about them either. He’d like to hide in his pretend obliviousness a little while. It’s not like he’s specifically being hunted down so all the others need to know for now is they are in danger and they need to flee. Vermon’s most burning question has been answered now so he drifted off to sleep at a speed Quickcell would only hope to experience. The adults and the kids were sleeping too. But Quickcell has been awakened and now his mind wont let him sleep again. His thoughts centered around survival. He needs resources, shelter, and to predict his enemies movements to secure some semblance of safety. He started calculating: It took him a bit longer than a day to get to the valley from where his family was attacked, and it took the pursuers around a week to catch up. They just flew from afternoon to dawn. At this rate they bought themselves around 4 days of peace until the pursuers catch up and that’s IF they continue the same pattern of behaviour. But that was not guaranteed and he didn’t have enough data to make any predictions. He jolted at the sudden feeling of being watched and found Scorcher staring at him from where he laid. His eyes glowed softly as the rays of a full moon fell upon his figure. Now that Quickcell can get a closer look he realised what his red scales hide very well; Scorcher’s skin is a patchwork of old wounds, marks and burnt scales. The kinds of injuries you don’t get from a peaceful life.

“You’ve been through a lot haven’t you, little one?” – he said, his voice gentle like the morning breeze.

Qickcell was speechless. He was amazed about the number of scars this dragon has, the goofy exterior he’s seen when he saw them playing in the sky, his gentle words, but most importantly his eyes. Those eyes spoke of the same hardships he’s been experiencing. A life of trouble and danger. Eyes that know how to survive. Not just survive, but fight for survival! For the first time in maybe forever, Quickcell’s nerves calmed as he stared into those piercing orange eyes. And although he hadn’t wanted to share the information he knew with Vermon, somehow, he started into the whole story of how he got here.

“We were on the run. We were always on the run...Though at some points it did feel like it was just a fun family trip. We’ve met a few different dragons on our way. But one day we had guests, it was 3 very big dragons. They had 2 legs and were using their wings to assist them in walking. They were mean. They told us to get out of their territory. And we did. They followed us to their border and let us go. But a few days later they showed up with the same demands. Again and again they did this. For 3 weeks we weren’t able to remain in the same place for more than 2 days. We aren’t built for constant flying, we’re built for speed. This exhausted all of us. And then they decided they had enough of us. Attacked us brutally. They got the jump on mom and when dad went to help, the dragon that pinned mom down ignited himself on fire. I’ve never seen something like that. It burned my dad’s mouth. I am not sure if he can still shoot at all. But my parents told me to run. To find a safe place and wait for them. That they’ll be fine, I just need to get out. I flew as far as I could. When I had to land to rest and hunt, that’s when I met Vermon.” – he didn’t realize but while telling the story, tears started down his face. He quickly wiped them off and steeled himself. – “Anyway, if those dragons are now here we have to go as far as we can!” – he looked up but only saw a sea of red as Scorcher pulled him into a big hug.

“Don’t worry kiddo. You just relax and let the adults handle it.”

Quickcell found unexpected comfort in Scorcher’s words. He’s heard almost the exact same sentence from his own dad but it was somehow more reassuring coming from Scorcher. Unfortunately it wasn’t enough to get him to sleep through the night. He woke up to every single sound the night has produced. The only reason he could fall back asleep is because Scorcher was curled up around him and though still half-asleep he was clearly monitoring all the sounds around them.

[quitealotofsodapop]

Wukong may have not even meant to tell then about his pregnancy and the reason he had been seeking immortality. Like, he was probably not used to talking to people outside of his newfound family (something he and Sandy have been working on) and the last time he'd probably seen even half of these people was probably either when he was thrown in the Furnace, sealed under the mountain, or dealing eith some other negative event. Be had exactly 0 friendly memories with most of these people who now hold the fate of his long lost mate's soul in the palms of their hands. So he panicked when a bunch of the nobility started digging up his past crimes, all crimes he had been pardoned for by going onto that Journey mind you, and may have been trying to find a way to e plain it when he accidentally blurts out the truth.

Prosecution: Are wr really going to listen to a monkey who caused so much having and destruction!? Who stole the immortality peaches, and wine, and Lao Tzu's own elixir of immortality!? Who attempted to perform a coup!?

Wukong, bit really he was speaking aloud: It's not like I even wanted to actually perform the coup. That was Azure's crazy ass idea, I just wanted the fucking immortality so the cub would be born safely...

Prosecution: ...What cub?

Wukong *The most guilty and horrified look as he realizes the entire court had heard him*: Oh shit...

Referencing.

Wukong forgot from years of semi-isolation to keep his thoughts to himself. The gasps and loud arguing that erupted amongst the court was almost deafening.

Luckily the Monkey King's mate was too shocked to stay tight-lipped as he normally would;

Macaque, from the prisoner dock: "That's why you were collecting immortalities!? Peaches, why didn't you tell me?"

Wukong: "Because I knew you'd try stopping me if I told you!"

Macaque: "DAMN STRAIGHT I WOULD'VE! Having the cub could still kill you! I don't want to have to choose between you and our infant!"

Wukong, emotional: "I had already experienced half an eternity without you Plums... I thought if I could have this baby, I'd at least be able to tell them the stories of The Hero and the Warrior in your stead ."

Macaque: *stuttering with a deep blush* "Y-you remembered my plays...?"

Wukong, smiling fondly: "It was always the troops' favorite story. You tell it better than I ever could though."

Macaque: *too in-love to comment* ( *///•)

The Gods and Celestials: *surprised/aww'd telenovela noises*

Gold Star (judge): *has to quickly call for order less the arguing continues and derails the trial*

Everyone present in the court room is immediately fixated on the defence. It's literally the most interesting thing they've seen/heard in milennia.

[shadow4-1]

Hi lovely. I was wondering if your funeral director story based off of you or someone you know? I was just curious since you state that it's based off of a true story in the beginning and was wondering if it's from the story of a director or the story of someone, who in the military, went through that.

Completely okay if you don't answer this, I fully respect your choice of privacy.

Hi, so here's a lil' backstory about me. I'm actually a funeral director/embalmer in training!

I'm about to graduate with my degree in 3 days. I've been under the tutelage of a trio of FDs/Embalmers who have each been in the industry for 30 years plus! The events I've written about (or may write about) haven't happened explicitly to me but to my teachers. I've had a few...interesting run ins with families though! So I can guarantee most of what I pull from is fact! (In the case of the most recent fic, yes that happened to one of my teachers. She told me about how she had to hold a veteran as he cried at the signt of his only son's urn who'd died in Iraq. Sad story, but real unfortunately.)

As for my other fics labeled with the "based on a true story" they are also pulled from my actual life (ie. something I've experienced or seen) or something an older family member/friend has told to me. (I don't usually disclose the actual story I've based my writings on unless someone asks 'cause I don't really know how to format it within my posts without it being immersion breaking.)

I'm 24 and almost all of my coworkers (I work at both a funeral home and a quilt shop part time) are 60 years older and above. I've asked them if it's okay to share their stories or write about their experiences. Their answers are always a resounding yes!

You'd be surprised how much knowledge (first hand accounts, etc) the older generation is willing to pass down if you're willing to listen!

[l8rs-gat0rs]

Okay I literally just found your account with your post talking about Billie in SWARM I WEN ABSOLUTELY FERAL YOU DONT UNDERSTAND SHE IS ETHREAL

…okay anyways I have a request

So what if you end at the group’s house and you get the counseling cause like you have bad anxiety and social anxiety and you just push everyone away and run from your problems so that’s essentially how you end up at the house. And then you end up wanting to leave like Dre did but it’s because you don’t think that they can help you. BUT Eva convinces you to stay and like you slowly fall in love…or something..maybe add some smut. Literally add anything you want I am just so excited to read it♥️

Save Me From Myself

Pairing: Eva x Female reader

Wow thank you so so much for this request! I actually have social anxiety so I am excited to write about it. Also trust me, I went feral too. She is definitely ethereal. The sexual tension she had with Dre was crazyyyy and she's such a good actress, the micro expressions and everything really got me. I didn't put smut into it only because it feels more like a soft fluff story that doesn't really need any smut, so I hope you're okay with that :)

Warning(s): angst, social anxiety, general anxiety, slow burn, y/n use

summary: You have social anxiety and Eva has been helping you with it. After messing up a game of Twister, you feel like you can't be helped so you decide to leave. Eva stops you from leaving, which leads to a confession...

Word count: 2k

Disclaimer: I have never talked to a therapist abt my anxiety or social anxiety at all, so If some things aren't accurate I apologize, but I'm just writing down what I have experienced and how I interpret it.

Special thanks to @hereforthepoet for helping me with this fic :)

~~~~Happy Reading!~~~~

You lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, replaying the story of how you ended up here over and over again in your head.

Eva had found you when you were a blushing, stuttering mess trying to speak to the waitress in a restaurant.

Were you blushing out of embarrassment? Yeah.

Anxiety? Yeah.

Because she was hot? Absolutely.

Eva smiled at you when you looked up from your head in your hands and made eye contact with her while she was sitting at a table facing you.

You groaned and shoved your face back into your hands because yet another hot woman had seen you embarrass yourself.

When you looked back up you jumped a little, seeing as Eva was now right in front of you.

The two of you had food together, Eva noticing your stuttering, rambling and fidgeting with your rings. The tell-tale signs of your anxiety.

You told her about how you managed to push everyone in your family away after your parents died, you were an only child so there weren't many people to push away, but still.

You lived by yourself in a tiny apartment, you were thinking about getting a cat, but then, Eva invited you back here with promises to help with your anxiety.

But here you were, in the bed, Eva had lent to you.

You felt like a lost cause, all the other girls in the group had shown major signs of progress over the course of a few weeks, but you were still here, holed up in your room because you could barely even talk to the girls, despite the fact it had been almost a month already and you have had numerous sessions with Eva.

You heard a knock on the door and you mustered a small "Come in."

You looked up and saw Eva walking through the door, causing your heart to race.

Come on y/n, don't embarrass yourself in front of her for the 10,000th time, please.

"Hey y/n, why aren't you out there with the rest of the girls, we're playing twister right now."

Don't stutter.

"Oh- uh, I don't know, I'm don't-

wait. I mean I don't-

I- I'm NOT feeling that great, I guess."

Jesus Christ.

She looked at you for a moment before walking closer to your bed and sitting down on the corner of it, by your thighs.

"Remember what I told you during our last session y/n?" Eva started, as she leaned over you, bracing herself up with one hand on the other side of your thighs, and using the other to check your temperature.

Your brain short-circuited as soon as you felt her skin against yours.

"I told you, the reason you stutter is that you either rehearse what you are going to say over and over in your head before saying it, or you think so fast that the words mess up when you try to say them out loud. Either way, you need to focus on what you want to say rather than thinking of all the ways you could say what you want to say."

"Yeah, I know..." Uou muttered.

"Well how can you be working on it when you don't even hang out with the rest of the girls?" Eva smiled patiently.

"I'm working on it, I just..." You trailed off, looking anywhere but Eva's eyes.

"Hey, eyes," Eva said, causing your eyes to immediately shoot to hers.

"Good girl. Now, why don't you come out of your room and join us." Eva got up from the bed and held her hand out for you to take it.

Your stomach turned at the Praise but you ignored it.

You took Eva's hand and picked yourself out of bed.

Eva didn't let go of your hand as she led you out to the living room. You willed your hand not to get sweaty.

"Hey guys, look who's here!" Eva announced to the group.

"Woooo y/n!" Cricket cheered while holding the spinner.

"Come, join us!" Isis urged, smiling at you from under Salem's arm.

You looked at Eva uncertainty, but she just gave you a patient smile and nodded, urging you to join them.

"Uhh, yeah, sure." You nodded, looking back at the pile of girls twisted around the mat.

Your heart started to beat rapidly.

Come on y/n, you cant be the one to fuck up the whole game.

Don't lose, don't lose, don't lose....

"Okay y/n, let's spin for you."

"Right leg green!"

You moved your right leg to the open green dot.

"Eva, want to join?" Cricket asked as she spun the spinner.

"Nah, I'm good. I like to watch" Eva said with a smirk.

You shivered at her words even though it was a normal comment.

Jesus Christ y/n get a grip. She's your mentor.

But she had also been the one holding your hand through the entire process of trying to get over your anxieties.

Did you have feelings for her?

"Left foot red" Cricket called out to Grace.

"Don't fuck it up!" Audrey laughed, balancing on one hand.

"Shut up!" Grace responded playfully, before carefully placing her foot down.

"Bam!" She cheered, causing the other girls to giggle.

You smiled a little but the tension would not leave your chest as the game continued.

The girls keep playing as normal, each taking their sweet time moving to their respective places while the others urge them to hurry up. You're trying to focus, to stay present, to participate...but all you can think of is the loud beating of your heart. How the girls' laughter fades and your consciousness seems to trade places with your subconscious; "They're only letting you play out of pity." "You need to leave before you embarrass yourself." "You look ridiculous standing like this and they know it, they're all thinking it." You vaguely hear directions for someone's turn being called but there's a water-like roaring in your ears and your palms are sweaty and-and-and-

"Y/n!? Right hand yellow?"

"What?"

You can't think slow enough, you can't move fast enough, your body is shaking and- 

Everyone's falling. A twisted mess of loud laughing bodies and you can't breathe.

"Y/n? Are you okay? Breathe!" You hear Eva say.

You shoot up from the pile of girls and suddenly the laughter has died and they're all looking at you with concerned expressions.

Staring.

They think you're pathetic.

You're so embarrassing.

"I can't do this anymore!" You suddenly shout through your heavy breathing.

"Woah, it's okay y/n-" Cricket starts, putting the twister spinner down.

"No, it's not! Look at all of you! You're getting better every day. But me? I'm hopeless. I can't even play a game of twister without fucking it up! I can't stay here any longer. I've overstayed my welcome and I can't be helped. I'm too broken." You said before turning away from them.

You heard the girls start to protest and get up but out of the corner of your eye you saw Eva shush them and make them sit back down. Tears started spilling from your eyes and you ran to your room.

When you got to your room, you took your suitcase out of your closet and opened it on your bed.

You started to pack when you heard Eva's hurried footsteps approach your door.

"Y/n, what are you doing?" She said sadly.

"I'm leaving. I can't stay here anymore" you were unable to look at her so you continued quickly packing.

"Hey. Stop." Eva said as she gently stopped you from going over to your suitcase with the clothes in your hand.

You stopped and looked down at the floor, still unable to look at her.

"Look at me. I wanna see those gorgeous eyes." She gently grabbed your chin and turned your face to look at her.

"Here, give me those," she took the clothes from your hands and put them on the other bed that was next to yours.

"Sit." She guided you to sit down next to where she left your clothes.

You sat down and took a shuddering breath in as tears continued to fall and your lip quivered as you silently cried.

"You're even gorgeous when you cry." Eva smiled, causing you to let out a choked laugh as you tried to halt your tears.

"You're just saying that" You felt your face heating up.

"No, I'm not. don't degrade yourself like that. You are truly beautiful, and I'll keep saying it till it gets through your pretty little head." She got on her knees in front of you and put her hands on your thighs.

You looked down at her hands on your thighs, hyper-aware of her touch.

"Y/n please don't leave." Eva spoke up somberly.

You looked back to her eyes before responding.

"I- I can't Eva. My thoughts are so confused a-and I can't be helped. I don't deserve to stay here." You sniffed as your tears subsided.

"That's not true! Everyone is able to be helped, some people just have a longer process than others. Also, even with all the facts considered, you're here because I want you to be, not because you're a patient or something." Eva explained.

"Yeah, I guess...but I'm still...c-confused." You internally cursed yourself for stuttering and you looked down back to her hands that were still on your thighs.

"About what?" She smiled softly.

You sighed heavily trying not to stutter.

But of course, you did.

"Y-" You sighed in annoyance as Eva looked at you expectantly.

"Y- You!" You managed to get out, causing Eva to let out a laugh.

"You're confused about me?" She asked with a smirk.

"Yes! Why is that funny!?" You huffed.

She laughed a little again before responding.

"It's not, it's not, Why are you confused about me?" She asked you curiously.

"Well, I- I don't know. Just...my feelings towards you..." You said more quietly.

Eva's hands rode a little higher on your thighs causing your eyes to widen for a second before you steeled your expression.

"And what are you currently feeling towards me?" Eva asked, staring down at your lips.

"Attraction" You breathed out, getting lost in the way she looked at your lips.

"And, that's a bad thing?" She smirked, her eyes looking back up to yours.

"I- I mean no! But like, you're my mentor or whatever. I shouldn't be feeling attracted to you. Right?" You backtracked.

"Who said that?" She laughed.

Wait, that's true...

"Uhhh, no one I guess. It just- I don't know I thought it might be wrong or something. You never dated anyone else here." You gestured to the door.

"Who says I didn't?" Eva smirked once again.

"O-Oh! I'm sorry I didn't mean to assume!" Your eyes widened.

"It's okay, don't worry about it." Eva smiled.

"S-so, who was it?" You said quietly after nodding.

"Isis, it wasn't very long though. We both decided we were better as friends" Eva shrugged.

"Oh, I see." You said, mulling over all the interaction you've seen Eva had with Isis.

"But back to your feelings?" Eva urged you to continue with her brows raised and a questioning tone.

"I guess, over my time here I've been slowly falling for you and...I've tried to suppress it, but I guess, the feelings have always been there, bubbling up,"

You sighed once again before continuing.

"I mean, I don't know... You're just so...." You started, before looking at Eva and feeling your face heat up.

"Go onnnn." Eva urged.

"Hot." You ended quietly.

"What was that? I couldn't hear you!" Eva said loudly.

"Oh shut u-"

Before you could finish your reflexive response, or even have time to be anxious about it, Eva pushed up off her knees and kissed you.

You were shocked at first but you quickly closed your eyes and melted into her lips.

You couldn't lie and say you hadn't thought of kissing her multiple times.

Once Eva pulled away she sat back onto her knees.

"I can't lie, I've thought about kissing you so many times." She let out a breathy laugh.

"Woah did you just read my mind?" You pulled back shocked.

"What?" She looked confused.

"Nevermind,"

You shook your head before continuing,

"Okay, back to kissing."

"I think..." You added shyly.