#in case y'all haven't been blessed with this yet

[missmaywemeetagain]

Pink Scarf - PART 14 (Elvis/Austin!Elvis x Reader)

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Requested: kinda

(Read more here--Pink Scarf Series Masterlist!)

Prompt: You are part of Elvis Presley's coveted inner circle, and the currently-disgruntled wife of one of the members of Elvis' famous entourage, the Memphis Mafia. After Elvis' dynamite first performance in Vegas, you find yourself in deep water when his magnetism finally gets to you after all these years.  [ Fem!Reader ]

TW: Blood. Assault in various forms. Miscarriage. Death/Mourning. Pregnancy. Cussing. Infidelity. Historical inaccuracies in the Vegas timeline. Priscilla doesn't exist in this timeline.  

Rating: Explicit/Mature (NSFW, 18+, so minors Do NOT Interact)        ||     Word Count: 7.6k

A/N: I'm so sorry in advance, y'all, cuz this one might knock you on your ass with its dramatic angst and give you whiplash after the last few chapters. Honestly, I hurt myself a bit with this one! *sob* Needless to say, the tone is a bit different here. Please make sure you read the trigger warnings for this part because there are some sensitive topics!

While I hesitated to make a part all in flashback, I couldn't seem to avoid it without creating a ridiculously giant chapter, and I also didn't want to make you wait that long, so here it is, complete with a cliffhanger!

Speaking of that, thank you for being so patient while I got this out. Life is kicking my butt a bit, and I SO appreciate you hanging in there with me!

Also, look out for some fun 1960 Elvis posts/reblogs later so you can get the full visual of his March 1960 glory, in case I haven't described it well enough LOL. I included a Rollerdome pic at the end as well.

As always, to all my babies, honeys, and lil' mamas supporting me out there, your reactions, reblogs, messages, asks, and comments you've given me have been a blessing beyond expression. You all are the best community a writer could ask for! Thank you so much for your support. I am loving getting to know y'all better! I love every reaction and comment and ask, and I'm sorry if I don't get back to them all as soon as I'd like but know that I love you all and am so excited to be making new friends! And a big "Hey, Y'all!" to Elvis Twitter, who stumbled into the Pink Scarf vortex and are now with us in the chokehold of '69 Pink Scarf Era Elvis and are supporting and sharing this lil' fic over there--I see you and appreciate you! 👀💋

If you feel so moved, please let me know what you think or how you're feeling (or send me asks)! I think I put everyone on the taglist who requested it, but please let me know if there are any issues or if I missed anyone. There seem to be some issues with tagging that I can't seem to fix, so please know I'm not leaving you out intentionally! Also, if you comment on a previous part that you want to be tagged, I might not always see it, so feel free to message me if I miss you!

I imagined this with Elvis in mind, but Austin!Elvis works here, too, whatever floats your boat! 

Apologies in advance if there are any grammatical errors or TW that I didn't catch. 

(I did start cross-posting Pink Scarf to my long-neglected AO3 account (which some of you already discovered!), so if you are so inclined, you can check it out over there, though it's not all updated yet!)

March 1960

You shouldn’t feel nervous. It’s just Elvis. But having not seen him in person in over 18 months, or even really being able to talk on the phone, you wonder if too much time has passed, if too much has changed, if the man who went into the Army two years ago is still the friend you cherished.

You wait in front of Graceland in the icy March air with Jack and a multitude of other close friends and relations for Elvis to arrive, shivering in your heavy coat. It’s a strange limbo you all are in, this energy of the end of one thing and the start of something new and unknown. You can’t help feeling that everything is different somehow, that a new era has begun.

This feeling is compounded by the secret you are keeping. You had been wary to accept that your greatest hope is finally coming true, but after your appointment yesterday afternoon, you are finally starting to settle into the fact that new life is growing inside you. You haven’t told anyone yet, not even Jack, since Elvis’ imminent arrival has taken over everyone’s minds. While you have no need to be the center of attention, you also know that the news would get lost in Elvis’ return. No one could compete with Elvis for any sort of attention. It would be a losing battle.

Honestly, you are glad to sit with the knowledge on your own for a moment, to give yourself a minute to adjust to your new reality. And part of you is still quite scared that this could all be over in a flash. It’s still early, the doctor said, even though you were further along than you’d originally thought. But after two years of nothing, there is a piece of you that doesn’t want to get your hopes up.

Perhaps that is truly why you’re feeling nervous and it’s nothing to do with Elvis at all.

Everyone around you starts to buzz, snapping you out of your thoughts, and you look up to see the police cruiser, lights and sirens and all, coming up the long drive. When it finally pulls up in front of the house and Elvis gets out, everyone explodes with liveliness.

It takes a moment for the small crowd to clear enough for you to see him fully. When his tall frame comes completely into view, you feel like all the air has been knocked out of your body. You have to stop yourself from gasping out loud.

He looks beyond incredible. So incredible, in fact, that your heart is suddenly fluttering in your chest like a schoolgirl’s. You have seen him in his uniform before, of course, but the last time, he was so miserable after the death of his mother that the uniform seemed like a prison, an unforgiving punishment almost. Of course, you’d also seen pictures for publicity and ones he sent home which would occasionally show him in his uniform. He always was handsome, to be sure, but now…now, something was different.

You try to put your finger on it because it really has thrown you for a loop. You aren’t some fawning, adoring fan, for god’s sake. But you cannot help but openly stare at the man in front of you. He positively glows. His blue eyes sparkle with the happiness of being home, but it’s not only that. Taking off his cap and tucking it under his arm, he surveys the small crowd and his home with joy. The blue of his dress uniform brings out the reddish-blonde of his natural hair color and the blush on his cheeks. His hair is long again on top, grown out and curled up and mussed from his hat. Compared to the Army buzz cut, it is more reminiscent of his signature coiffed 50’s style, but somehow more mature yet rebellious at the same time. It suits him very well, you think, highlighting high cheekbones, long face, and his now quite chiseled jaw.

Elvis’ whole face is lit up with happiness, that signature grin white and wide, as friends and family gather around him. You can’t help but feel warm and fuzzy to see that smile again in person. When you finally catch his eye, you feel like the whole world stops. It’s ridiculous really, the way your heart throbs in your ears, but you swear his face changes almost imperceptibly when he sees you. You’re not exactly sure how, but it softens somehow, imbued with just a little more warmth than he’s already exuding. His eyes travel over you only briefly before Jack reaches out to embrace him, but in that short moment, you suddenly feel self-conscious.

Once his eyes leave you, you let out a deep breath that you didn’t know you’d been holding. You look down, clasping your hands in front of you, but when you look up again, Elvis is looking at you from over Jack’s shoulder. You are absolutely caught in his blue-eyed gaze.

Stop being stupid, it’s just Elvis.

Perhaps your sudden intimidation by your dear friend is that he left Graceland a boy but has returned a man. Even though he’s thin, it’s in a leaner, more carved, more refined way than before. He still retains a bit of his baby face, but his countenance is different, settled, more worldly.

After exchanging words with Jack that you are too overcome to hear, Elvis steps around him and comes towards you, his attentions focused completely on you.

“Hey there, y/n darlin’,” he says gently, his voice still heavily accented, high and bright.

“Welcome home, Elvis,” you say. It barely sounds like you, you think, too quiet and soft and breathless. You ring your hands nervously.

He begins to open his arms and you know he means to embrace you, and all of a sudden, you are certain you are going to faint. It’s as if you know that if he touches you, right here and now, looking as he does and with the way his essence is radiating around you, something will be irrevocably changed. Your heart flutters and your breath rate increases, and you almost panic as he closes the gap, those eyes of his looking at you in such a way that you feel completely, utterly exposed. You want to run away, but you are frozen to the spot.

Just as he steps up to you, he’s attacked from the side by his young cousin. The moment between you is thankfully interrupted, and you instantly step back and behind Jack as the boy wrestles Elvis.

“Jesus, kid, a little warning next time!” he shouts playfully, putting the kid in a headlock and rubbing his knuckle into his head. He catches your eye for a fraction of a second, his face somewhere between regret and chagrin at not being able to hug you. You manage a small smile, but practically hide behind Jack, grabbing his hand as you warily look on.

The horde gratefully moves inside, out of the cold late winter chill. The look that flashes over Elvis’ face as he crosses the threshold is one of trepidation, grief. You realize being home must come with mixed emotions; after all, the last time he was here was when his dear mama passed, and this was the home he’d gotten for her.

You’re not sure that anyone else catches how his breath hitches and how those pretty eyes become anxious. In that moment, you forget all about the strange reaction you had to him not a minute ago and you ache to go to him, to pull him into your arms and tell him it’ll all be okay.

It seems like both forever and just yesterday that he wept in your arms on the stairs, bereft and inconsolable, as his mother lay in the other room in her casket. He had refused to leave her, petting her, and talking their baby talk to her for so long that they had finally placed glass over her to dissuade him. Even then, he had sat vigil by her side and as you all looked on in collective grief, as the concern for him and his deteriorating state was palpable. Almost no one was able to get him away for longer than a few minutes—first it was the Colonel near shoving him and Vernon out the door and into the arms of the vultures with the cameras outside. Then, Sam Phillips was able to console him for a bit. Jack and the boys and Anita all tried to pull him away, but they were only swept up by him to go see Gladys, and his tearful ramblings continued about how beautiful she looked and her tiny little “sooties,” and then his wailing and sobbing would commence once again.

His mama had always been more than kind to you, and you cried for her loss, but it was truly Elvis’ grief that had the tears rolling down your cheeks. But you hadn’t wanted to overstep your bounds. However, he’d stopped eating and drinking, and looked positively exhausted, eyes rimmed with dark circles. Eventually, you could stand it no more.

“Elvis, honey, I need you…” you’d said, putting your hand on his shoulder gently. He’d looked up at you sharply, eyes so bloodshot and filled with tears that the blue of his irises seemed unnaturally bright, his innocence and grief leeching out of them. You faltered then at the state of him, stumbling over your words, wanting to be as kind as possible. You cleared your throat, continuing, “I need you to come with me, sweetie.”

And somehow, against all odds, he listened to you, of all people. Wordlessly, he’d stood, drawing you tightly to him, his arm gripping your waist and his tall frame leaning on you for support, nearly knocking you over. You’d stumbled with him to the stairs, and he’d just collapsed into you, his head buried into your neck, clinging to you as if drowning in his grief and you were his life preserver. His heart wrenching sobs had silent tears flowing down your own cheeks, and you’d held him, petting him, cooing at him, your protective gaze shooing the onlookers away.

Eventually, after some time, he quieted. You could feel the heat of his head through the now-soaked top of your dress. “Oh, E, you’re burning up,” you’d said, feeling his face with your hands. He’d worked himself into such a state that his body was rebelling against him, and you’d whispered to someone nearby to call the doctor.

At that point, he’d had little fight left in him, and Jack and Sam had helped get him up to bed once the doctor had come. But he’d still clung to you, not letting you leave him once in his ornate, darkened cave of a bedroom. Elvis wouldn’t settle or let the doctor administer the much-needed sedative until you were in the huge bed with him and he was curled in your lap. You had looked to Jack wide-eyed for some sort of support, part of you feeling a little scandalized by being invited into Elvis’ bed, but none of the men knew what to do, and you were the only one so far that had been able to get him away from Gladys. You just got harried looks of bewilderment from everyone, and the doctor had just nodded to you, as if giving you permission to climb up in with him, doctor’s orders. Anything to calm Elvis down.

So you had, your heart breaking for him, confused as to why it was you who he needed, not Anita or Vernon or Jack. Regardless of how strange it was, you were his friend, and you’d do anything to help, no matter your own comfort. You’d stayed with him through the night, back leaning up against the headboard awkwardly, staying even after the sedative took hold because when you’d tried to leave, he’d still clung to you, heavy and feverish.

For hours you’d held vigil over him, hand rubbing soothing circles on his back, eventually drifting in and out of sleep, though any movement from him had you startling awake. And when you woke in the morning, stiff as hell, and Elvis blinked up at you with those huge, grieving puppy dog eyes, the pang in your heart was evident and confusing.

After those few horrid days, you never spoke of it again. You never asked him why it was you who’d been able to reach him through his grief, and beyond a whispered “thank you” in your ear before he left for Germany, he never mentioned it again. Not that you’d seen him for him to do so. Maybe that is why you are nervous, you think, because the last time you saw him, he was so utterly lost, and for whatever reason, you had been a lifeline in one of his worst moments. And that feels significant somehow, though you aren’t sure exactly how.

That look you see in his eyes now reminds you too much of that look from 18 months ago. But there are a bunch of family and friends between the two of you, crowded in the entryway, bustling with excitement, all seemingly oblivious to Elvis’ distress.

It angers you a bit, the way they all clamor over him without truly seeing him. You stand as rooted as he is, as if your being able to move is tied to him somehow. He looks at you then, sensing your gaze or your thoughts in that almost preternatural way of his, and you see the overwhelm in his eyes. The way the endless blue of them seems clouded over with pain and grief. The way they almost beg you to save him.

This, out of everything, gets you in motion, stepping towards him in the crowded space, but there are so many damn people that you can’t get to him. By the time you sidestep cousins and friends, you’ve watched as his face changes, a mask slipping over those handsome features so seamlessly that it takes you aback. You stop short, amazed at the way he now smiles and laughs at the antics around him, as if nothing happened.

You realize he must’ve had to do this to survive over there. There was no way he could show that kind of vulnerability during tank maneuvers or whatever they had him doing. He’s protecting himself, you think.

But it still rubs you the wrong way. The ease with which he switched emotions was disconcerting to you. Somewhat bitterly, you think that he certainly didn’t need your help through his pain this time.

Oh, stop, you chide yourself. He’s been home all of five minutes and first you wanted to run away from him and now you’re mad his grief isn’t crippling him? What’s wrong with you?

“Okay, okay, y’all, I need to go get changed! The press is gonna be here any minute,” Elvis chuckles and waves you all off, climbing the stairs. His eyes catch yours in the briefest of moments and you swear there is something unsaid in them. And then he’s gone, up into his room.

A shiver passes over you, your stomach flipping, and then a wave of nausea comes.

Jack sees you and comes over with concern in his eyes, cupping your cheek. “You alright, treasure? You look a little green in the gills,” he says.

“I…uh…my stomach is upset, sweetie. Excuse me,” you say quickly, the bile rising, and you make quickly for the bathroom down the hall. Once safely locked away, you rush to the toilet, sick. Luckily, once out, the queasiness passes quickly.

The doctor said this could happen, you think, looking at the reflection of your red face in the mirror. You rinse your mouth out and splash your face with cold water. It certainly has nothing to do with Elvis. That would be absurd.

It’s just the look in his eyes is haunting you and you don’t understand why. Maybe it’s just your hormones being in overdrive. Yes, that makes sense. You are on edge and not seeing things clearly. Or maybe too clearly.

After a multitude of deep breaths, you straighten your dress and hair, then head back out into the fray. You find yourself in an empty house. You wander about to find that most everyone has gone back outside to witness Elvis’ triumphant return to Graceland as procured by the press.

They have arrived, littering the snow-dusted lawn and taking photographs and recordings of Elvis as he sits in front of a huge guitar shaped cake. You peek over someone’s shoulder and your jaw nearly drops at the sight. Clad now in all black, his wool coat is appropriate for the chill, but his black shirt is open halfway down his torso, a large gold medallion resting on his bare chest. If he’d looked like the All-American boy getting out of that car not 30 minutes ago, now he looks like the perfect combination of sweet and sinful.

Oh, dear lord.

His chestnut hair is perfectly imperfect, a rogue lock falling over his forehead. You think perhaps he’s added a little shadow and mascara to his eyes, or maybe he’s just exhausted from the long journey home, but whichever it is, the slight darkness on his lids gives him a stunningly beautiful look, his blue eyes popping and dancing with a combination of mischievousness, aloofness, and candor. Somehow, he has retained the youthful swell of his cheeks while also now having a jawline that could cut glass.

As you watch Elvis pick at the cake, deftly putting pieces of it in his mouth with his fingers, the innocent gesture seems almost obscene and that lightheaded feeling comes over you again, this time with a swell of warmth.

You want to look away, you really do, but you’ve forgotten your friend’s natural charm, how his essence pulls even the most unwilling into his orbit. His beauty is one thing, but the feeling that surrounds him is another thing all together. It’s not just you caught in the pull, however. Friends and family gather around, too, though they are likely not experiencing the same type of reaction as you.

Oh, this is utterly ridiculous, you think. Elvis has always been pretty and alluring. Get ahold of yourself.

You think it must be the pregnancy hormones, the way your body flushes from head to toe just watching him eat his cake and play to the camera. You force yourself not to follow as they direct Elvis towards Vernon’s office for the press conference, his tall frame gliding across the lawn in the most confident and nonchalant of ways. He commands his audience as though he’d never left, born to be at the forefront of everything. Focused on the cameras, he does not see you, or so you think, until he catches you staring and quirks his brow.

This finally prompts you to move, turning away quickly and heading back into the warmth of the house. You are glad for the cold, as it gives a reason for your cheeks to be as red as they are, and it douses your heated body with a much-needed chill.

You are embarrassed by your behavior. Elvis is not some idol to be gawked at, not by you. Perhaps it is because you feel so removed from him in his absence, or it is the unasked questions that linger in your mind from before he’d left, but your nerves buzz annoyingly.

You manage to avoid him after the press conference, as he’s utterly exhausted from his trip back home and all it had entailed and sends everyone on their way with the promise of a party the next evening.

Later, lying in bed, you wonder what in the hell came over you. It’s got to be the nerves and excitement about the life growing inside you colliding with the trepidation of your friend’s return all at once. You also know that pregnant women have a multitude of strange physical symptoms, especially in the early days, which would explain nearly everything.

That must be it. It’s not about Elvis at all. It’s your body telling you that you are pregnant.

Finally.

The thought sends a flutter of a different kind through your chest. It’s one of excitement and hope and a little fear. You place your hands on your belly, imbued with a sense of motherly responsibility. You drift to sleep thinking of holding your child in your arms.

*

The party the next night has Graceland lit up in a way it hasn’t been in years. An air of celebration surrounds the place, chasing away any of the leftover morbidity from Gladys’ passing. You hold Jack’s hand tightly as you enter the mansion, that strange anxiousness from yesterday threatening to ruin your night.

Maybe you should have told Jack about the baby before you came, but no moment seemed quite right. Telling him before work would have distracted him and telling him before the party still seemed to be stepping on the toes of Elvis’ return. Tomorrow, I’ll tell him for sure tomorrow, you think pointedly.

The warm air of the house nearly overwhelms you, and the two of you strip your heavy coats and head towards the sound of Elvis’ boisterous laughter. Your dress is fitted only at the waist and not over the belly, which you are glad for, even though you are hardly showing yet.

You manage to find a seat in the corner with Jack far enough from Elvis that you can breathe, as the fact that he still looks incredible has not changed in the last 24 hours. Why you are so completely stuck on his shocking handsomeness and consumed by whatever prowess he is exuding, you still do not quite know, but it continues to affect you and keep you wary. Shaking off your unhelpful thoughts, you busy yourself talking with Anita, Pat, and the other girls as the men joke and play. After a while, this finally settles your nerves, but you are very conscious of not letting yourself get too close to Elvis as the night goes on, as if being too near will disrupt the tenuous equilibrium you are trying to maintain.

Later in the evening, you excuse yourself and head to the restroom. You can’t help but look in the mirror, rubbing your belly even though it’s impossible to tell yet. This puts a smile on your face, your sweet little secret. And this is how you exit, smiling, stepping into the dimly lit hallway.

“Hey, darlin’.”

“Shit!” you gasp, jumping out of your skin at Elvis leaning casually against the wall across from you. Your heart gallops against your ribcage, one hand flying to your heart and the other to your belly in a protective gesture. “Elvis, you scared the hell out of me!”

“Sorry, y/n,” he says, pushing off the wall, eyes remorseful but watching you carefully.

You find yourself barely able to look at him with him being this close. You will your heart to slow, will yourself to act normal, but it’s like you can’t. You can’t quite meet his eyes, you can’t quite breathe and escape is all you can think of. You awkwardly gesture to the bathroom, thinking that it’s why he’s lurking in the hallway, and then you step away from him without another word.

“Hey, now,” he says from behind you, perturbed, “You wait just a damn minute.”

Elvis’ long fingers circle around your wrist, grabbing you, and it feels like fire. Startled, you turn back and look down at how he holds you firm. You hardly have a moment to process that he’s touching you before he’s pulling you into a room across the hallway. Yelping, you have no choice but to follow—he’s much stronger than you—and he holds fast as flips on the lamp and then shuts the door behind the two of you. He releases you, then folds his arms over his chest with a scowl.

“Elvis…” you start, confused and shocked and trying to process whatever is going on.

“Did I make you mad or do something to offend you?” he interrupts, his voice laced with hurt. Those intense blue eyes of his lock you in place, betraying his churning emotions.

“What? No, what are you—?” you sputter out, faltering under his gaze and needing to look away.

“That! That right there. You can’t even hardly look at me!” he points, voice raising angrily. “You barely said three words to me since I been home!” He steps towards you and instinctually you step back, a hand flying to your belly, as the intensity of being this close to him has you completely overwhelmed.  

His eyes widen. “Look at you, you can’t even be in the same room as me without skittering away like a little bird. I thought I was imaginin’ it for a minute.” Elvis pauses, looking you over. “Are you afraid of me?” he asks quietly, the hurt palpable in both his body and voice.

Your heart aches at the sight of him like, forcing you to relax and be more mindful of your actions. “No, of course I’m not afraid of you, Elvis,” you breathe. You aren’t, truly.

“Then what did I do?” he asks with such childlike innocence, such hurt, that your heart breaks for causing it.

“Nothing, E, you didn’t do anything, I swear,” you insist, going to him, unable to bear the look on his cherubic face. You force yourself to get close, pushing through your silly fears.

“Why ya bein’ so strange then, baby?” Elvis asks, eyes scanning your face. This close, you realize you could fall and drown in their oceanic blue intensity.

How can you answer that? You certainly cannot say, “Yes, Elvis, I’m being strange because you came back too handsome and your charming presence overwhelms me, and I don’t know where I stand with you, and oh, by the way, I’m pregnant.”

Your brain scrambles for an answer as the tension between the two of you increases to a level that has you sweating, and you blink up at him, flustered. “I…I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be like that…I guess I am afraid that you’re different, or that things have changed too much while you were gone, or that it’s been too long and that you might not, I don’t know, you might not see me as your friend anymore?” you prattle on, the honesty in your words surprising you. The idea and the truth of it brings tears to your eyes.

His beautiful face softens, his mouth popping open as emotions flash over his features so quickly that you cannot grasp them completely. You feel utterly caught up in him, the loss of control and your feelings frightening you.

“Never,” Elvis whispers finally, “Never in a million years could that happen, baby.” The way he looks down at you is charged, confusing, intense.

Your heart flips. A rogue tear slips down your cheek. Stupid hormones.

You are close enough now that you can feel the energy of him pulsate around you. It makes your breath catch when he brushes the tear off your cheeks with the backs of his fingers. You’re not sure if you can bear him touching you more than that because it sends a shockwave through your body.

“So, you missed me?” he asks, a sideways grin beginning to widen on his face.

“’Course I missed you, you idiot,” you sniffle.

“Some way of showin’ it,” he jokes now, breaking some of the tension.

“Well, I’ve had some things on my mind,” you say pointedly. “Life didn’t stop just cuz you were in Germany, ya know.”

You don’t realize that your arm has been wrapped over your belly all this time. Elvis narrows his eyes at you, steps back, and then looks you over very deliberately. Self-conscious and confused under the scrutiny, you blush.

“What?” you ask nervously. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

A huge smile spreads over his features and his eyes light up. “Congratulations, doll,” he grins at you.

He knows. Elvis, of all people, knows your secret after spending less than five minutes with you.

You are shocked enough that you don’t try to deny it. “I…How…?” you stutter out.

“You bein’ so skittish and protective, and the way you been holdin’ yourself this whole time is different. Explains that real pretty glow about ya, too,” he says, booping your nose playfully.

You blush harder. “Elvis, I just found out. No one knows yet, not even Jack, so don’t you dare go saying anything yet. It’s still real early,” you say in a warning tone.

Elvis nods, practically bouncing with excitement.

“Seriously, E, not a freakin’ word, promise me!” you say. He is a terrible secret keeper.

“Okay, okay, I promise!” he grins.

“Lord, with the way you’re buzzing, you’d think I was having your baby!” you laugh.

Something changes in his eyes, but it’s gone so quick that you can’t put your finger on it. He does still a bit, though, and you look at him quizzically. He doesn’t say anything and just looks at you openly. The air has shifted once again.

��Well, we should probably get back out there. Everybody must be missing the man of the hour,” you say, clearing your throat and turning to leave.

Before you can go far, Elvis’ fingers dance over yours, reaching, as if wanting to hold your hand and pull you back but hesitating as if he shouldn’t. Your breath catches, an odd feeling blooming in your chest, like you are falling. You look back and down, seeing and feeling his fingers graze yours in such a strangely much-too-intimate way. He doesn’t stop, fingers brushing and winding through yours. You can’t help the way yours start to move around his in the now heavy silence. Your eyes raise to meet his, heart racing.

“Y/n, I—” he starts to say, voice low and gaze intense.

“EP!! Where the hell you at, man?” Red shouts from the hallway, startling you both, causing you to drop your hands as though they were suddenly on fire. As if you were caught doing something you shouldn’t.

Elvis visibly shakes himself off and crosses in front of you to open the door. It opens a crack and then he stops, turning back to you quickly, mouth open as if he wants to finish what he was trying to say. He must think better of it, though, because he just shakes his head again and sucks in his cheeks before heading out the door without another word.

You pause, frozen to the spot, as your heart thunders in your ears. Befuddled, you try and process the last few minutes, try to piece out what the hell just happened. Your hand splays on your belly, your face hot and your body warm.

You were right, you think, a lot has changed. Everything and nothing, all at once.

*

After that, things move quickly. With Elvis’ new knowledge, you tell Jack immediately about the baby, pulling him aside at the party. He is thrilled.

A few blissful weeks pass. You’ve been feeling okay physically, just some nausea and lightheadedness, but your nerves are still a bit on edge. The strange moment between you and Elvis the night of the party lingers in your mind, just under the surface, and every time you see him, that odd falling feeling comes over you for a moment. It doesn’t help that when he sees you, something in him changes. It’s so subtle that you doubt anyone notices; in fact, you think you could be imagining it if not for the charged, unreadable look in his eyes. But to you he seems overly attentive to your every move, protective even.

You try and chalk this weird intuition and the way your body feels up to the pregnancy. Your body is changing a little each day, and maybe this is just a part of it.

Elvis has been enjoying his few weeks at home before everything starts up for him again, and consequently, so have all of you, finding yourselves pulled back into his orbit easily. He’s travelling down to Miami soon to be on Frank Sinatra’s show and then he starts filming his next movie in April. You have mixed feelings about this, dreading him leaving so soon again, but you also think perhaps it is a good thing to be away from him considering the tricks your mind seems to be playing on you.

Tonight, he rents out the Rainbow Rollerdome for an evening of what he dubs the “Roller Skating Wars.” You, of course, will not be skating in your condition, but that certainly doesn’t stop you from putting on a cute polka dotted dress and going to observe the chaos you know will ensue.

Jack, unfortunately, stays home, struck suddenly in the afternoon with a sore throat and fever. You tell him you will stay home and take care of him, but he brushes you off and tells you he’s just going to be sleeping anyway, that you should go and have fun. He practically pushes you out the door.

When you arrive at the Rollerdome, you quickly find the girls and plant yourself in one of the big booths with a coke, some popcorn, and some candy. Your cravings for sweets have been intense this last week, and you pick delightfully at the confections as you watch everyone skate around.

Elvis has a silly grin plastered on his face as he wheels up to your table, his hair so long and fluffy on top that it bounces with him, product keeping it standing nearly straight up. On anyone else, it would look absolutely ridiculous, but with Elvis being Elvis, it just seems to highlight how incredibly handsome he’s become. Honestly, he nearly takes your breath away in his dark polo with the popped collar, his eyes electric and dancing, his face long and jaw chiseled.

At least you know that you aren’t the only one noticing the change in his looks, because the other girls seem to blush and smile more as he looms over you all, the skates putting him nearly six and a half feet tall.

“Ladies, everybody got their skates?” he drawls charmingly.

Everyone giggles and there’s a chorus of “Yes, Elvis!” as they show off their skates. For a moment, you are a bit upset that you can’t skate, but that is quickly banished by the excitement of the life growing inside you.

“Well, go on then!” he motions, and the ladies scurry, happy to be summoned.

After they clamor out of the booth, Elvis looks at you more seriously.

“No skating for you tonight, right?” he asks protectively, cobalt eyes narrowing.

Your heart does that falling thing for a moment before you respond. “Nope, feet planted firmly on the ground, thank you very much!” you smile.

He nods, pleased by this. “Where’s Jack? I haven’t seen him,” he asks, looking around.

“Oh, he’s at home, sick. Booted me out of there. I think he was annoyed at me hovering, to be honest,” you chuckle.

“You gonna be okay over here? I don’t want you to be by yourself,” Elvis says, concerned.

“Oh, I’ll come and watch you all here in a minute. My back’s bothering me a bit, so I’m fine to sit for a spell.”

“You sure you’re okay?” he asks again, brow furrowing, as if sensing something about you that you couldn’t sense yourself.

“Yes, E, I’m fine. Don’t you worry about me. Now, shoo, and go have some fun, but for god’s sake don’t go killin’ yourself or anyone else out there!” you laugh.

Elvis looks at you in that unreadable way of his for a moment, then a wide grin spreads across his face. “No promises!” he shouts as he skates away.

You let out a breath after he leaves. His presence is still overwhelming to you, no matter how much you try to logic it away, so for now you are just accepting it. Such is living a life with Elvis in it.

Your back really is starting to bother you, which you attribute to the obvious, and after a few minutes alone, you realize you would rather be around people than not. You get up from the booth, then a wave of dizziness overtakes you and you grab the edge of the table for support as you blink away the spots in your eyes.

You wonder for a moment if you might be coming down with whatever Jack has, but your throat is fine. After a moment, the wave mostly passes, so you make your way to the skating rink to watch the group from the sidelines. There are a few people on the sidelines, and you have fun making small talk and watching the antics in the rink. After a bit, most of the girls come back out as Elvis and the boys are getting pretty rough, and part of you is a little glad Jack isn’t here to get injured.

You ignore the ache in your back (it’s just something you’ll have to get used to, after all) and another wave of lightheadedness hits you as you all head back to the table. You are starting to feel distracted, your stomach churning now a bit, too, and you remind yourself that being pregnant isn’t necessarily a picnic. You feel a bit claustrophobic now, shoved in the booth with the other ladies, and excuse yourself to the restroom, thinking it might be time to go home.

Something’s wrong, you think, a feeling of dread coming over you. Forcing yourself to breathe, you remind yourself again and again that you are just pregnant and these are symptoms of that. You pause at the water fountain to drink, hoping the water might settle your stomach.

As you are bent over, someone zips behind you on skates, then suddenly you feel a hand groping your backside.

Yelping, you choke on the water and jump, turning around.

“Hey there, pretty girl,” a man you don’t recognize leers at you, way too close for comfort.

“Excuse me,” you say haughtily, your heart suddenly pounding in your chest, making your lightheadedness even worse. “I think you have me confused with someone else.”

“Naw, you’re the prettiest girl in here. Why ya all by your lonesome?” he purrs at you, the sound setting off every warning bell in your body, adrenaline clashing with your dizziness and churning stomach. He leans down, as if to try and kiss you and you push him back.

“Leave me alone!” you say, your voice raising in both volume and pitch. You try to sidestep him, but he grabs you hard and presses you into the wall. You think you might vomit all over him.

“Don’t be like that! All I want is a little kiss,” he says, one wandering hand groping your chest as his lips come at you.

“Don’t touch me! Stop it!” you shriek, trying to squirm out of his grasp as his disgusting mouth roams over your face and neck. Your body betrays you, though, your back throbbing, weakness overcoming your limbs, and you can’t fight him off. You curse the fact that the bathrooms are so far back from the rest of the group, and you pray that someone hears you.

“Get off of me!” you try to scream, but he’s trying to silence you with his hand. Panic overtakes you now as you realize this man is going to hurt you, but in your current state, you are unable to fight.

“What the fuck are you doin’?!” You hear the low growl before the horrible man boxing you in is yanked backwards and sideways, his eyes bulging in surprise. You gasp as you watch Elvis collide with the man, his momentum from how fast he must have been skating sending the man flying.

The man stumbles and rolls, flailing and falling, and Elvis looks like you’ve never seen him before as he spins around. His eyes are dark and lethal, his jaw clenching and unclenching as his chest heaves with his breath. He looks terrifying, his focus singular, and you are almost afraid for the man. Almost.

“I asked you a fucking question,” Elvis growls again, pulling the dazed man upright by his shirt. “What the fuck were you doin’ to her?!” he yells, pulling back his arm and then socking the man in the jaw so hard you can hear the crack. The man is stunned for a moment, blood beginning to seep from the corner of his mouth, but he recovers, taking a swing at Elvis.

It barely grazes him and doesn’t even phase Elvis, who seems possessed. “Don’t you ever fuckin’ touch her!” Elvis shouts, then punches the man in the face again, hard, sending him flying.

Things are happening so fast, you can barely process it. You can hardly breathe, the waves of dizziness pouring over you, making it hard to focus.

Elvis goes for the man again, and suddenly you are fearful he might kill him because he seems so blacked out with rage. Elvis hits him again and the man falls to the floor in a heap, bloody and bruised.

“Elvis, Elvis, stop!” you try to call out, but your voice is too quiet, wavering, and he is too far gone. You need to stop him before he does something he cannot take back, and you know something is wrong with you because you can’t get your body to move the way you need it to.

It’s then that a sharp, searing pain burns in your abdomen, and a primal scream bursts from your lungs. A shockwave of agony rolls through you, knocking the breath from your body. It’s so sudden and all-encompassing that you see red, and you clutch at your belly, your head spinning, fearing the worst.

The baby.

Your cry finally snaps Elvis back to reality because he’s with you in a flash, fear and concern flashing over his features, replacing the fury that was there mere seconds ago.

“Y/n! Y/n, what is it? Did he hurt you?” he gasps, looking you over as tears stream down your cheeks.

You can’t catch your breath, and your heart is beating too fast. Then, you feel hot liquid spread from your belly downwards, life spilling out of you, running down your legs. You feel sick as you look down, Elvis’ gaze following your own. That’s when you see the dark red begin to stain your dress and your stockings.

It’s over, it’s over, the baby, oh god, runs through your head, a dismal chant in your mind. You look at Elvis with resigned horror, but you are feeling so lightheaded, you can barely focus on anything. Even the pain starts to wane and feel distant. You know this isn’t normal, even for a miscarriage. Something is terribly wrong.

“No, no, no, no, no,” you hear him beg, his hands on your face, your shoulders, his eyes wild with terror now. “We need help over here!” he bellows, never taking his eyes off you.

They are so beautiful, those crystalline eyes, those dark lashes, you think absently as you begin to slump over.

You are somewhat aware of his strong arms catching you as he slides down with you to the floor. They feel so warm and comforting, you think. You blink up at him, your vision starting to dim.

“Y/n, no, don’t you dare, you stay w-w-with me, b-baby,” Elvis says in a panic, shaking you, pulling you into his lap. A sharp metallic smell permeates the air. “Somebody c-call a damn ambulance!” you hear him shout. You can hear the terror in his voice, in his stutter, and you wonder why he’s so scared. You’ve never heard him this scared.

“Elvis?” you whisper. You try to keep your eyes open, but it’s so hard.

“Yeah, b-b-baby?” his voice shudders. You can feel his chest heaving as he presses you into him, rocking you, tucking your head under his. He always has to be moving, his energy always vibrating around him.

“I feel so strange…” you say, and you do. You’re aware of the pain but it feels so far away. Everything feels far away except for the heat of Elvis, which feels like a blanket around you. With the warmth pouring out of you, you start to feel cold.

“I-I-I know, baby. Come on, you stay awake, now,” he says in your ear as your eyes start to close. He shakes you again. You force them to flutter open. You think whatever is happening must be really bad if he’s so scared.

“Tell Jack I…I love him,” you breathe quietly, just in case.

“You tell him yourself, damnit,” Elvis chokes out, pulling you in closer.

“Thanks for…being…my friend…so good to me,” you say, but it’s not enough. You can’t seem to get the right words out, your mouth filling with cotton. You bring your shaking fingers up to his cheek, your face is buried in his neck, his smell surrounding you. He smells so nice. He feels so good wrapped around you. You’re not nervous to be near him anymore, all of that seems so silly now. Your hand drifts and you feel his full lips under your fingertips. They really are as soft as they look.

You can’t keep your eyes open anymore and blackness starts to swallow you, your hand falling onto his chest, but you feel unusually calm.

“No, no, no! Oh, God, don’t—please don’t go. I-I love you, y/n, please, I love y…” Elvis whispers pleadingly in your ear.

His quiet, startling confession fades away and is the last thing you hear before the world goes completely dark and silent.

*

Elvis at the Rainbow Rollerdome, March 19th, 1960

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Reblogs, likes, comments + feedback are extremely appreciated! Please help support your content creators!

[simplyclockwork]

Thank you for the tags @7-percent @br-nz @jobooksncoffee and possibly others that I missed. Thanks y'all! Sorry for the slow reply, I'm not on tumblr as much as I used to be.

Writer’s tag

Name: simplyclockwork

Fandoms: BBC Sherlock

Where you post: Ao3, Tumblr

Most popular multi-chapter: By kudos, it's hands full of matter. By hits and bookmarks, it's hired gun.

Fic you were nervous to post: Hmm, not sure. I guess I'm always nervous to post my FTH and Holmestice fics because I agonize over whether or not I've done the prompts justice. But all have been well-received so far, so hopefully that means people enjoy what I've written.

How do you choose your titles? Most of my titles are either a reflection of the story, something silly, or a play on words.

Do you outline? Rarely. I sometimes write a vague little blurb about the ideas in my head. Whenever I do try to write and stick to a full outline, I end up meandering as the story takes shape.

Complete: I think it's easier to say what I haven't completed. Out of 182 works on Ao3, I think 3 are WIPs. Two may never be finished.

In progress: Out of my three WIPs on Ao3, I want to finish unfinished business (ironic title since it's unfinished!). The other two I might abandon. I want to write the sequel to hired gun as well. I am also in the process of writing my second 2021 FTH fic for @kettykika78

Coming but not soon: blessing in disguise, my second 2021 FTH fic, an alternate meeting fic that takes place in Venice, Italy and involves a case in a 'cursed' palazzo. Also, the sequel to hired gun, which I'm currently calling smoking gun. This will feature the rescue of a certain missing mercenary and a reunion between our heroes.

Do you accept prompts?  I sure do! I am, however, super behind on filling the prompts I have at the moment, so while I am willing to take more, it will be a while before I can fill new prompts.

Upcoming story you are most excited to write: I think the sequel to hired gun is really getting me stoked. I've written a bit of the first two chapters and done some outlining, and I'm excited to get back into that world.

Upcoming story you are most excited about reading: Oh, so, so many. I am so behind on my fic reading that I can't even name just one.

I'm tagging @annecumberbatch @heyblinken and anyone else who hasn't had a chance to do this yet and wants to!

[blancabitchcraft]

Hey, y'all!!! This is another money post, but it's a super short story + an update to when I'll have that money spell for you guys. I appreciate you guys asking for it and yes it can be used multiple times if needed. You won't need unless something happens to it, but you know, hey maybe one for you and one for a friend (Watch these heauxs closely cause they will get 💰 and switch up on you. Trust. So think about that if they aren't the bestie.) You can also do multiple for practice purposes, but don't make a whole bunch of the same money spell for the same purpose. That's not trusting yourself and your magic and then that's just extra bs you don't need. Put those ingredients to use elsewhere (when/if you have leftovers).

Anyway, so I have a short story about the photo above and then I'll tell you WHEN I'll be releasing the money spell and the ingredients.

So basically, this lady just gave me this money. I hadn't ever met her before. But I believe her name was Mary. And I'm pretty sure she decided to give me this money before she ever met me in person. I talked to her on the phone for maybe two minutes max and she asked for my name. She said she was coming to my location and asked would I be there when she arrived. I said I sure will. I'll be here all night. She said thank you and we got off the phone. I went on to other tasks completely forgetting about the situation. It's not like she was asking me for help or anything. I was just polite on the phone.

I was walking into the room she was in (not knowing he it was her at the time) and she flagged me down. Hey, what's your name? I told her she said, "this is for you. Thank you." I said, "oh it's no problem. Just wanted to make sure you had what you needed. It was rolled up and I didn't open it until later. That's when I realized it was $20. I was totally not expecting that at all. The package she was paying for was only $29.

Look, THAT WAS A BLESSING!!!! IDK what I'm going to need that for specifically, but it's going to be saved until needed. That money just came to me. I honestly think I'm going to bless someone else with it because I know when I needed money, people were not just passing it to me. So yeah, there it is. I just thought it was super cool and I wanted to share.

Now, for the part that y'all really care about. "That was nice, bitch, but when are we getting that spell?" Ok. So I'm behind on a free things because I've been overworking myself + transitioning with some things. With that being said I haven't been able to do the things I wanted to do even for this blog yet. So I'm going to tell you about all of that later, and I'll try to hook my good witches and bad bitches up with two simple money spells by Monday night. Both require a few items, but one has one main ingredient and the other a little extra. So one will require a little investment. So if you're in desperate need of money, do the simple one and try to invest into the other a little later. So that's Monday night, witches and wizards! But I'll have other posts in between. But please feel free to reblog this in case some of your peeps wanna know when they can get ahold to this money spell.

Blanca Bitchcraft

[whimsically-ominously-auspice]

Y'all in the village that have seen me recently

I apologize, y'all will just have to bless this sweet darling heart

My eyes have become super sensitive to the sun and I have to wear sunglasses (i got $250 worth of contacts with my stimulus check -- 12 boxes including one free sample due to the brand i purchased being discontinued suddenly and my prescription being out of stock - contact lens.com, i highly recommend. I did send inal a photo of my valid prescription) Usually I'm extremely picky and don't buy the lightly tinted lenses. But Wal-Mart had them on sale and usually that's all they sell. Usually i get mine from eBay and spend hours if not days searching for them cute and dark, zooming in the photos to see how the tint is reflected, refracted and if i can see through it. Usually sunglasses are very honestly shown for some reason.

Anyway so these are so thin I forget I am wearing them!

So, I'm all parading in Wal-Mart in purple sunglasses and all in the drive thru like an I don't care diva!

I don't know the origin, yet. Or where it came from... If it was just an agreed upon practice by international law or if it's just me. Idk.

But i think its rude to hide your eyes when speaking to someone. Like its not something conscious. I didn't sit around deciding it was a pet peeve or some law, but when i was a waitress tossing pizzas out the drive through pick up line or just a casual shopper -- people in sunglasses and not lifting them or removing them always bugged at me and irked me suspicious.

So I've been all parading around completely unaware because I've had to wear regular prescription clear lenses for so long that I'm used to the weight of glasses, especially in public because that's the only time I wore them. They just became part of me

And the tint is just see through light -- like the same color of my regular daytime light in my bedroom that every one says is dark. And a light bulb does illuminate. I'm very vampire dungeon darkness.

So I just wanted to apologize that i been all looking like Miss Princess don't care.

I always refused to buy light lenses because i thought they didn't work or weren't worth it. The sun here is so strong. But they do definitely help and are so comfortable i don't know they're in place.

So I care but my eyes hurt a lot. And the contacts kind of made it worse. Like when I take my non insulin diabetic shot, after 10 to 20 minutes I can feel it go into the back of my eyeballs and it feels so good!!

Its not a super pain or uncomfortable and its more when I don't sleep or am upset. I guess my pupils dilate weird

Which my eye doctor before the last, I was on Percocet and well the same 13 prescriptions as well as a few more for pain and so on. And he told me to be cautious as my pupils don't dilate proper due to "being so heavily drugged"

So who knows. I just try to avoid light.

And these sunglasses help and I don't know I'm wearing them. So I'm not hiding behind a mask and cute tinted sun glasses. I'm just protecting my eyes and preventing pain.

Like i say. The pain is from the brain to indicate a problem. So there's a problem Idk how to diagnose and verify or solve. So.

Its not intense just pressure and an auto response to avoid light. Like my kid turns on the lightbulb and I'm all its so fucking bright!!!! Although now the florescent burnt out thank God because that gave me migraines. And I got an LED. But the choices ar the dollar tree were limited to be 60 watt equivalent when I prefer a 40 watt or 30 even.

So I notice the intensity in my eyeballs changing in response to the light

When we lived in Alabama and we were about to move to NYC and my parents had always said Florida would be our next stop.

And i developed an allergy to the sun. A real allergy to the sun. It's a rare condition. My skin would marblize a red color and I would begin to feel faint and/or throw up if I was in direct sun.

It was right after Denise had become Zulululu.

And so I still have remenents of the non contagious disease. Although I was kept from school for 6 weeks... Like my legs if get hot then they get itchy and the sun irritates my eyeballs.

So I always buy sunglasses but I don't always wear them but have them available.

My daughter has the blue light blocker AND the progressive lens so that in the sun they turn to a light see through sun glasses. Zinnie.com I think I spelled it wrong m allong with a basic pair of clear glasses with a anti reflective coat for like $5 I paid about $70 for both. Never had any problems with Zinnie and even leaving them in a hot car was no problems. But a pair from firmoo I paid extra for the anti reflective coat and the lens coating melted in the car. So I'll never ever buy from them unless its a keep in the house pair. Wearing contacts and losing one on the beginning of a road trip where i was expected to drive -- it fell out my eye and ripped - it was old. And I didn't know or think about it and i had no back ups!! So i had to suffer the whole week. Migraines and all.

So in my luggage I keep a pair of contacts or glasses even when it's in storage. I keep a pair of glasses in my car in case of emergency. And firmoo completely failed me.

I've bought half a dozen or so from Zinnie. I call it Zin-knee-uh although it's probably just Zin-knee.

And noooo problems. Even with the advanced lenses which do work and are great.

Because I wear contacts, I don't want to invest in a good pair of glasses but my daughter solely wears glasses so I find it important to protect her eyes.

I get the anti-reflective coating -- the mid level due to at night lights. Without corrective lenses, lights look like Ferris wheels.

I literally can't see shit but 6 feet in front of me. I guess other people are not much different so. Like can y'all see a person 100 yards away? Like no? Right? I can see shadows and shit but I can't recognize people with my eyeballs until they're all up on me.

My uncle always says I'm gonna need a scope to shoot at night. -.-

I'm not quite Mr Magoo but I'm lucky as he is. Thankfully. (He's a cartoon, check him out. He's in YouTube)

And so my drastic apology for blatantly running around in sunglasses all rude and shit. Is done.

Also, while I'm talking about companies -- avoid PANTENE FOR COLOR TREATED HAIR. It strips rhe color out and is complete crap and the worst ever.

Herbal Essence and Loreal Elive are both fantastic to keep color treatments in.

I thought it was just our hair but ive been using PANTENE and my kid Herbal Essence and I see the difference.

Also I like my hair curly. And lantern curly didn't do shit. But Herbal Essence Twisted always has worked great. Not my personal favorite scent but tolerable.

Y'all what i need is a curly and color treated hair shampoo and conditioner at an affordable price. I've searched African American products and haven't found any with those labels. So Idk.

My scalp and hair is ultra dry due to scalp psoriasis and i can go a total 3 months of no washing without looking oily.

So i love African American products and buy them proudly in secret for myself! But i notice their bottles are smaller and more costly.

Except i found a leave in oil for only $3 which i use when i don't dye.

Foreign oils can strip hair color quite well as well as dandruff shampoo.

So I'm always cautious about leave in oils and lotions.

But PANTENE is a FAILURE.

Its my main switch. I use herbal essence and PANTENE and Loreal. Its a fact using the same conditioner and shampoo leaves a certain coating on the hair to cause it to be limp and flat and dull.

So it's always been recommended to use a clarifying shampoo and conditioner for a week then go back to the reg.

The same effect or nearly the same effecf is done by switching brands. So that's what I do.

PANTENE is now out of the equation.

Tio Nacho is a fantastic shampoo and conditioner. My daughter's hair was always unruly. Curly and just wild no matter what. And tio nacho is the only brand,to tame her to look like a human and not a wild lion. But I haven't found color protecting and it's $8 for only 12 ounces and so I find that expensive.

I buy the huge 27 ounces for $7. So.

But I would buy it for her. It helped calm the oily and wild mane.

My friend brushed her hair once and she was so surprised m she said that was like warm butter, lol. Because she always had wild corkscrew curls and some random straight ones she looked a wreck 24/7.

Truly I didn't mind I knew the truth. But tio Nacho has some miracle up in it. Swear.

PANTENE doesn't even have ordinary skills it claims to have m

So we may put Aussie in our loopm we use Tressemme when the cash flow is low.

I used to do live advertising and did the 3 minute Aussie miracle conditioner and that was always nice. The formula changed and it's not as wonderful as it used to be but its average. So i haven't had them in our loop.

Dove we don't like. Hers gets oily and crazy and i don't like the oil stimulation it causes. Idk maybe it's good but ... It makes me feel ick. Which is sad because I really wanted Dove to work.

PANTENE was my first "luxury" shampoo and conditioner i bought myself because i was raised on V05 and if I was lucky and Denise was nice, Suave. She literally bought the cheapest. And never bought extra conditioner and So i had to ration it. So my first self purchase on my own was PANTENE. But it is now a failure. -.- and lives are ruined and especially hair dos.

So now i used to buy my ex V05 ha!

And i have an emergency bottle of Tressemme 32 ounce under my bed for color treated. Conditioner.

We buy conditioner 4x more than shampoo. Because we coat it all --scalp to ends -- brush it. Then i rinse the heavy coat i soaked in while watching tv and smoking then I give it a light coat on the ends again and rinse.

Shampoo we just use one handful and not two or three and it foams up and so we don't need as much.

Like i use 2 - 3 pumps on my scalp of shampoo then one maybe two on the ends. The scalp i scrub the ends I rub.

Like now i have to dye again so I'll use a dandruff shampoo and I'll end up scrubbing all of my hair and use like 1/4 a 12 oz bottle. To get any deposits and leftover film and so on off all the hairs so they absorb the dye better. Then no conditioner. Or a light coat to detanglr and comb and rinse quickly without a deep soak. Then sometimes i gently apply shampoo again without a good scrub. Just run it through to remove the conditioner. But not to allow tangles.

Im not an expert or anything but hair care is serious around here and Idk why PANTENE is trying to destroy mine and succeeding.

I spend $50 every 2 months on just hair. For two.

One girl with a Mohawk and my long to the waist hair.

Two sides of her head are shaved every 6 weeks and she gets the same bottles as i do and then she's all "i need more" 0.o. Honestly she washes hers more often than i do.

We have our own buckets of shampoo and conditioner. Nathaniel either uses it or poisones it so we have our own large Easter buckets. And we store our towels in my room too. Then we have a 3rd bucket in case i buy in advance or like now give up on a bottle we were trying out. Save it. For days of emergency. Running out or so on

But we do borrow from each other if one or the other is low we take from each other to use.

We have different body soaps and different hair needs sometimes. Like i want curly and she's all nah. Or she has Tio Nacho.

We come from a 3 bathroom house so we're used to having our own product. Let me say it that way. But we always are good about sharing if necessary.

But she actually has more demands for bath stuff than I. So like her loofah and her body wash and all that isn't used by me and she knows its only all her Because I have my own bucket.

I cater to my kid. I Like it seperate too because her stuff is more expensive. $7 body wash and mine is $3 if i buy it. Otherwise i use shampoo. I do have hair in my armpits after all. And so i see hers and im all hmmm let me try this and yeah... "Idk how i used half a bottle in one bath" so it is more expensive!! So

While I'm buying 2x the shampoo and conditioner to supply 2 buckets -- in fact i am not spending more. If we shared the bottles as a person would expect, then we would go through them faster.

2 people in one bottle

Vs 2 people in 2 bottles.

So I have to purchase less often than if we shared but I have to purchase more bottles.

So in reality i pay the same price but the schedule and cost load is different.

Like if im out of conditioner, i know she will be at some point so i buy two bottles. And it waits until she needs it. Unless i need shampoo, too.

Then if she if she needs the shampoos then we buy all over again.

The cycle of life told in shampoo and conditioner.

[ffxivquestlogs]

Intro Cinematic

Hear...

Hear... Feel...

Hear... Feel... Think...

???: ...Oi!

???: Y'all right, lass?

Grizzled Passenger: You were moanin' in your sleep an' sweatin' buckets besides.

Grizzled Passenger: That'll be the aether, I reckon. Some are more prone to the sickness than others.

Grizzled Passenger: No need to fret, though. You'll soon get used to it.

Furry Creature: Feeling better, kupo?

Furry Creature: Aha! You can see us! I had a feeling you could, kupo!

Moogle: We're moogles, and we live in this wood.

Moogle: Normal folks can't see or hear us─which makes you special, kupo!

Moogle: And seeing as how you're special, maybe you can tell us something.

Moogle: The wood's been restless of late─lots of strange things happening. Have you chanced to witness anything suspicious, kupo?

Moogle: But of course you haven't─you've only just arrived.

Moogle: Well, there's nothing for it, then─we'll just have to keep looking. Nice to meet you, kupo!

Grizzled Passenger: Gridania's still a fair way off, in case you were wonderin'. Seein' as you're awake, how's about you keep me company till we get there?

Grizzled Passenger: Them young'uns don't much care for conversation, see.

Bremondt: Bremondt's the name, an' peddlin's me trade.

Bremondt: As for your good self, judgin' by your unusual garments, I'd say you were one of them new adventurers. Am I warm?

Bremondt: I knew it! Goin' wherever the wind blows, seekin' fortune an' glory─now that's what I call livin'!

Bremondt: So long as you can avoid dyin', I mean. Ain't no secret that adventurin's a risky business─these days especially.

Bremondt: What was it that first attracted you to it?

Character: To gain power.

Bremondt: ...Power? As in, er...power to do good? Like protectin' the weak, an' fightin' for what's right, an' all that? Aye, I thought that's what you meant. Well, adventurers do get up to a lot of fightin', that's for sure. You'll never be short of a chance to polish your warcraft in the adventurin' business.

Bremondt: When you arrive in town, you'd best enroll at the Adventurers' Guild─they'll set you on the right path.

Bremondt: An' it wouldn't hurt to join a guild, neither.

Bremondt: Gridania's home to a few, so if you fancy learnin' how to fight with a bow, a polearm, or even spells, you should think about seekin' one out.

Bremondt: Just remember, though: there're more important things than fortune an' glory. Such as breathin'. Ain't no profit in bein' dead, an' that's a fact.

Wood Wailer: Halt! Go no further!

Bremondt: What's this, then?

Bremondt: Uwaaah!

Carriage Driver: Wh-What's going on!?

Wood Wailer: A skirmish has broken out up ahead with the Ixal! For your own safety, you must remain here until─

Wood Wailer: Bloody hells! We shall hold them here! Try to break clear!

Bremondt: That was too bleedin' close...

Bremondt: Nice of the Ixal to send us a welcomin' party, though, eh?

Bremondt: Jokin' aside, this won't be the last time you meet those feathered fiends, so just you take care, all right?

Bremondt: By the by, is this your first trip to Gridania?

Character: Yes.

Bremondt: It is!? Well then, let this journeyed itinerant tell you the ins an' outs of your destination.

Bremondt: The city of Gridania lies slap-bang in the middle of the Black Shroud─the biggest, lushest forest in all Eorzea.

Bremondt: Though it ain't near as lush as it used to be, sayin' that. Not since the Calamity laid half of it to waste.

Bremondt: The destruction prompted a herd of new nasties to move in, an' gave the Ixal unneeded encouragement. Birdman raids've become a daily occurrence.

Bremondt: Ah, at long last.

Bremondt: Behold Gridania, the forest nation blessed by the elementals!

Narrator: The Black Shroud ─ The ancient forest close to the heart of Eorzea.

Narrator: Beneath the bows of its towering trees lies the woodland city-state of Gridania.

Narrator: Once a sanctuary from the world beyond the Hedge, even the mighty elementals, eternal guardians of the forest, could not forestall the coming of the seventh umbral era. 

Narrator: However, the goddess Nophica was never one to forsake Her children, and today She welcomes another brave soul... One who may yet play a telling role in the tale of this great realm.

Bremondt: An' here's where we part ways, lass.

Bremondt: I'm off to the markets to deliver me wares, then it's back to the highroad for me.

Bremondt: Here, I want you to have this─by way of thanks for keepin' me company.

Bremondt: Hey─you never did tell me your name, did you? Well, here's an idea...

Bremondt: Become the sort of storied personage I can brag about havin' met, an' I'll consider us square.

Narrator: May the Matron take her to Her Bosom, that she may never want.

Narrator: And in her heart, sow serenity, purity, and sanctity.

???: You there! Yes, you!

Wood Wailer: Your face is not known to me. Newly come to the city, no doubt. Bertennant: I am Bertennant, a Wood Wailer of Gridania.

Bertennant: It is my duty to protect our nation from her enemies while welcoming those who may yet prove her friends. Let us see which you are.

[whimsically-ominously-auspice]

"I'm real proud of you, You know. We didn't know who they were but we could have been real hurt," little Tiny Queen Girl just almost 4 years old, hands on hips just telling me how it was. How she felt.

My Little co-member in our Army of Two.

Lord Blesses us with the moat precious for such a short amount of time.

This idiot shot her and when he realized he had shot a small child and she was in the hospital on life support, he went and kidnapped her from the hospital.

Finished killing her and hid her body in a freezer at his house.

It wasn't for years later that he thought the coast was clear and he placed her body partially in a trash bag next to a dumpster in that Compton neighborhood.

He didn't want the body to not be found. He wanted it to so his message was clear -- "No ni**ers in his neighborhood"

She was labeled only as missing by the family, at least to me anyway. They didn't want me to get crazy and go on a killing spree. Her brother joked that was what little 3 year old Laquisha Antuana Jefferson would want.

After the Rodney King Trial, I took racism hard. I took it differently. No longer could I be on top of it and stop it.

It was here to stay and there was no changing it. I was glad I lived in a mostly white suburb because I felt i could talk to the few African Americans at my school and make sure they were doing okay, individually and not have to worry so much like i did in NYC.

There were less. So less could get hurt and i closed my mind off to the rest of the world.

7 weeks before i was called to Compton they found Laquisha Antuana Jefferson by that dumpster behind the 711 Chevron.

My mom thought it would be good because she was shot just 6 blocks from the race track.

Maybe I could do something.

I bought him a house in a white suburb. I got him transferred to a predominantly white neighborhood and made him promise his entire family and anyone he associated with would never kill or go near a black person again.

He just had to pay bills in a Beverly Hills home.

If he broke the rules he would be killed but i didn't tell him that. I just told him he would move out and it would be grave.

The house is still in my name and he never did break the rules.

But he hadn't killed just Laquisha Antuana Jefferson, he had killed over 700 others.

This i didn't know or understand or I would have had him killed.

He was black so I couldn't understand how he would say African American children were niggering up the neighborhood or "bone thugging the street" part of me didn't believe he killed Laquisha Antuana Jefferson but the whole of me couldn't deny he was capable.

Her whole death was horrific and hard to believe. Who would do such a thing and to such a precious child?! I loved her with my whole being, everyone did. There wasn't anyone i loved or respected more than that child.

I had a nervous break down for three weeks. I visited all the places she had been and I cried the whole time. I was miserable.

Queen Elizabeth II had to come fetch me and get me awake, see there was more life to live and Laquisha Antuana Jefferson wouldn't want me so upset and she believed what happened although I couldn't wrap my head around it, She could.

So she bugged his house and set speakers in it and we tortured him. Part of me thought it was wrong but it made me feel so much better, healed even and brought me joy.

Could you imagine Queen Elizabeth II egging and toilet papering a house!!?? Well we both sat in the car while Prince Harry and William and Princess Diana did it

I owned it and still do so it was alright with me.

Princess Diana painted a red bloody swastika on the door and Prince Andrew hung a white paper mache man made from reprinted newspaper clippings of the people he had killed from his garage.

It gave me a sense of pride. I knew that my little Royal Army did just what my co-conspirator in our Army of Two would had wanted. It was perfect retribution for Little Queen Laquisha Antuana Jefferson. The reincarnated Queen Nefertiti.

As Princess Diana returned to the limo, laughing, I said "thank you, I have never been more blessed than I am just right at this moment. I don't even want to leave. I want to sit and stare all night"

About an hour later, a patrol car with its lights on came up behind us and rapped his knuckles on the window. "Oh you're all white good. Does anyone know what happened here tonight or were you all just driving by?"

"Well see Its just..." Oh in the pit of my stomach I felt bad.

"Oh Sabrina you're all here. Good."

"Well see me and my friends were just driving past, I wanted to show the Queen the luxury of Beverly Hills and the good neighborhoods here and well we saw all this and thought we might want to stay and catch the vandals in the act in case they came back" I hung out the window and looked around "nope all good"

Princess Diana took to a snort of laughter midway through my speech and tried to cover it with a fake sneeze. Then a cough and a mere sound of strangling herself.

"Hey miss! Are you alright?!"

"Oh that's Princess Di"

"Too much champagne it went down the wrong way÷"

"Yeah I gotta laugh at her, sometimes she's much too silly"

"Well take a look at my house! That's serious enough for you!"

"Oh God! William help me! This is much to much!" And she leaped forward and buried her head in his chest so she could laugh freely.

"Oh is she crying?!"

"Oh she will be fine" I was relaxed and drunk myself and wow how easy i found it to lie! We could get away with anything! Even murder! Nope! I told myself we must'nt lie. I just got too carried away and didn't speak soundly enough. I said all I was supposed to but much too much so it was actually a lie! But I must'nt have to be tooo careful, After all I did just buy him a house didn't I? Even so that wasn't the right way to be and I felt surrendered to guilt.

"Well I say, I say do y'all want to come in?! I've said it three times but yet no one is to answer!"

"Oh yes. Please move. Lets show off this mini mansion bought just for you" I opened the door and Queen Elizabeth II slid out quickly behind me

"Oh it feels so good to get out and stretch! I haven't gotten out since well id gotten in it!"

I snorted drunk laughter "Oh yes we have been truly blessed to be in this limo"

"So shall we?" He offered the crook of his arm for my hand to take which I did "I don't want y'all stumbling all over, you ole drunk things!" The queen had rejected his arm and allowed Princess Diana to take it. And i felt suddenly less callous. I felt sober and somber. Walking up to the house we just destroyed wasn't the problem. It was his ability to take over the situation with peasantry and take two drunken women into his home. The "goblin" hung from his garage blowing in the wind, saying all that he was accused of. In the dark, suddenly I imagined myself as a black woman. I thought that soon i would be inside and i could puke and wash my face and still take a shit if i needed to. My nervous tummy did that.

"Here you two stand here and hold yourself up if you need to. I'll be right back. No no I meant each other. I wouldn't take my face off him but i peeked a glance at Princess Diana and she was pleasantly smiling as ever. Still having fun. Queen was patiently pleased as well. The boys seemed fine looking around at all the had done. "You know i didn't kill that kid. You know that right?"

"What?!?! What the Hell did you say?!?"

Princess Diana grabbed me and put her arm around me and put her finger to her lips and Queen Elizabeth II put on her black leather gloves

"Oh i suppose you didn't hear me, i said "let me get my key out" it will be just a moment" he bent at the waist "oh it seems someone put gum in the lock. Let me go out back and hopefully i can get in"

I watched him and heard the back gate click "did he say about the key twice?!" Princess Diana nodded solemnly. "He didn't say anything about killing a precious black kid?"

"NO!! SHH!"

"Hey you know i been praying to Jesus a lot ever since i put that girl out" the lights for the front porch turned off. I let out a giant terrified scream!! Princess Diana slapped her cupped hand over my mouth instantly. I nodded and breathed in. She removed her hand and wiped my germs away. On his wall. -.- good DNA to prove ive been here in case they aren't seeing the truth. Not that anyone would check that place though for sure.. Maybe i ought to pee in the bushes?? Thank God Shaquille O'Neal stayed in the car. Maybe i could light this house on fire and send him smoke signals before he gets stabbed in the neck!

The door suddenly swung open "WELCOME TO MY HOME!" he spread his arms and stood back. Like a Royal Butler "i will even bow!" And he did so. "I'm not drunk. Not yet. But I did take a couple swigs of this, to catch up you want?"

"No thanks I'll pass" princess Diana put her palm out

He pleaded

"No I've got the boys and mom's already drunk and so someone has to be able to watch them. She will drink tho. She's a real drunkard especially with guests. She swishes it between her teeth, says it gets her drunk faster" wow we were all gonna die. But hopefully we wasn't gonna feel it. "Sabrina i feel you and i hoped you weren't right, but it's all here. The writing is on The wall. This is a beautiful home."

He was towering over me "this is the nigger you want" and i was fuckonf terrified. He was staring into my eyes with possessive lust and i looked back in terror. I was trapped between the fireplace and him

"Uhm sir?" He tuned to her and slipped his flask into his pocket. Idk why but Princess Diana and I both saw Freddie Kruger instead of a police man in uniform. She stifled her scream better than i did. I played the fireplace scraped me. And i was told to sit and i did.

"Excuse me, i have to take this" Queen Elizabeth II had brought in her satellite phone and she went to the far end near the bottom of the stairs to talk to Shaq.

"Is it Snoop?"

"Oh no. The man in the car. Much better than smoke signals!!" I squeaked

"Oh are you hurt? Let me see that for a second"

"Oh uh sure" I let him lift my leg into his lap but kept it straight so it would not go to his crotch and put my hand between my kegs to hold my short party skirt down to protect my vagina.

"Oh a prude are ya?"I wondered if he said that out loud. NO one seemed to notice I felt alone and I felt scared. I wondered if he left a gaping hole in Laquisha Antuana Jefferson. I hoped she was dead when he did or at least the fear killed her... If she had any. I hoped she did for her sake

"Oh don't look sad! You'll be alright"

"Yeah because I'm old..." My eyes drifted to the Queen, "and big enough" i would take one for the team but i was gonna fight first. If i had to. Just keep my eyes open and my ears ---

"All i can tell you is that she is seeing truth and all is alright." She looked up at me "or was. I must go. Please stand by"

"Was that Snoop?"

Oh dear God i wish she would quit saying that. We were all gonna die. He grabbed my chin and stuck his tounge in with a French kiss. Okay let's die first. Much better on that.

"Uh yes. Was it Snoop?" I removed my leg and put my knees together and pulled my skirt to cover them both.

He reached down, grabbed my ankle and pulled up my leg again

"Oh you're so gentle!"

"I wouldn't do that if I were you she has a fiancee" warned the Queen then she turned to check on the boys.

"Oh is he white?" He asked twice. In our culture we didn't speak of race so we all remained silent to his quest.

He turned to me "oh just one more" I pulled back

"Ouch! This thing is poking me!" I lied. I was scared. In my ways of life i didn't reject people. I distract. I dont like to be put in those situations. And the Queen had my back. We just needed to leave. "Queen please this house is attack-- guh ugh" somehow puke was on my breath although I hadn't yet, his tounge must had gotten my gag reflex as he kissed me rudely

"Ugh" I cursed him and had disgust in my face. "Im not into snoop. He's married and i am almost" he had fingered me during his kiss it seems or he was imagining it i wasnt sure but i seemed unaltered between my legs but the next kiss brought promises. I put my foot down and slid over.

"Snoop is? To who?"

"Shaquille!! I mean Shawntee!! You met her she came to this house with us!"

"What oh. Oh. Yeah get off. I guess i was jealous i thought you were fucking him. So who are you about to be married to, huh?"

I just kept seeing dead bodies and my heart was going to kill me. Inside i was screaming loudly we got to get out. It was as urgent as i had set a smoke signal. In my mind I saw the limo and I beat on the glass next to Shaquille's head. Maybe that would do the trick. I was sitting on the fire place after all. I saw a satellite view of the limo driver door opening and I resurrected back into Hell.

"Huh? What did you say?" I asked drowsily.

"Ah man! Y'all are drunk!! I gotta catch up! Now wait where is my flask?"

I saw in my mind Queen come to me and say "oh no she has a heart condition and touch my chest to gain a proper rhythm. I was dying and she knew.

That's what I get for pretending to be a drunk black woman alone in his home with him. I bent forward and breathed rapidly. Sweat dripping off me.

"Oh no Sabrina is coming down we must take her home"

"Here drink its bourbon" I did and felt hourly sick.

"Its sweet huh?"

The phone rang again "What is going on?!?! I got Sabrina beating on my glass and you two are all stand by?!?! Are you two in trouble?!?"

"Yes she is dearie. Every thing is fine. I'll see you... Next week? That all sounds fine"

"What is that nigger doing to you!?! I'll kill him! I've rang the phone twice already now!!"

"Oh yes. Please. The first. That sounds lovely. Soon. Soon. Yes i tell you the week will pass before you know it"

"Now? You want me to come now?"

"Absolutely! Of course!" She said angrily.

"Mom! You're drunk!!" Scolded Princess Diana. And nodded towards him

"Oh yes Please dearie you know just how it is --"

"Im coming now. Keep on talking. I'm killing this nigger!"

"Me first!" I rose the flask. "Oh here. I can't drink this shit"

"Oh yeah mixing liquor that may not be good. Who is she talking to? What y'all gonna have tea or something? Can i come?"

"Hey have you ever been to a hospital to see a little girl?"

His eyes looked at me in alarm

"About 6 weeks ago? She dead."

The doorbell rang while he looked at me in horror when i said the time frame. The bell rang again and he got up.

"And did you place her body into a trash bag?" I slurred.

"Shaquille! The greatest basketball player of all time! What you doing driving a limo?!"

"Oh you know. A favor to the Queen! Come on girls! Lets go! I got basketball tomorrow and i can't be out this late I still got to drive you all home then go to Vegas"

"No snoop I dont need no help i got this." I waved my arms drastically in the air and did not move my ass

"Come on girls Lets move!"

"Shaquille just pick her up, she's being a slut. Don't worry he's married too. To my -- mom! What in the hell get off the phone!! Come on let's go!"

"Shouldn't we call 911 to report this"

"Ah. No I am a cop and I don't mind as long as it was white people and I know it was because of the swastika"

"How many people have you killed with a plastic bag"

"Come on shh what is with you?"

"You're my legs! Lets move forth!" I announced then whispered "let's get away from this murderous uhhhh town" i got scared and kissed Shaquille

"Don't kiss me! What's going on with you?!?"

"Idk you!!" Was my reply.

"See? Slut" was Princess Diana's smooth comment as she passed. "Come along boys" she said beautifully

"Oh yeah and she fell -- by my fireplace isn't it exquisite?'"

"Oh yeah. You were being raped and all you could do was sit there? What's going on wit' you?!?!"

"Don't forget you belong in jail for killing that little girl!!" I accused and pointed as the door closed quietly. "He's drunk too he don't know. Come on Shaggy! To the Mystery va -- uh limo!"

"Who the hell is shaggy?! Which one of us?!"

"You Shaquille -- shaggy and he always has to carry scoobs the dog"

Princess Diana burst out laughing. "This is a conversation I expect to have with one of the boys! Not the two of you!"

"Well you get to carry the Royal Slut! Can you imagine the words that would be spoken at the police station tomorrow?!?!"

"Who gives a shit? Hes a piece of shit" stomped the Queen

"Well,from what he said to us. No one is gonna believe him anyway. He sounds like a complete doofus and a near rapist. Oh Sabrina that was brave asking those questions!"

"Oh I figured we would die anyway" i took off running to the car.

"What was with that shirt anyway? Didn't he really look like Freddie Kruger?"

"Was he really wearing that!?! I thought I was going crazy and your mom's black gloves didn't help at all i thought for sure we would all die!!"

"And you for real kissed me don't ever do that again. You know who I'm with"

"I panicked all I saw were lips and a face this close to mine and I thought it was him and I was scared too death!! I thought give in, it would go easier on me!! Its not my fault you're wearing a red shirt!! All I saw were lips!! But thank you for not kissing me back!! That was real gentlemanly of you like! And I can see why he just kept kissing me. I think he kisses allot of dead bodies as a matter of fact and he didn't even notice I wasn't responding. Like that woman that was strangled and had ligature marks all pink and he said. He said. Now you're all white and pretty like your vagina"

"Now You listen to me -- you get in this car this instant! He is standing in the drive way looking at you and me. In!" The queen just shoved me in the limo as i climbed blindly in and Princess Diana dragged me in the rest so the Queen could get in.

"Mom!!"

"Oh so nice to meet you!! Thanks again dearie!! Yoo hoo bye to you!!"

The Queen Elizabeth II relaxed as we got onto the freeway and further away from Beverly Hills. She rolled down the partition "to the ghetto, please sir" Shaquille stepped on the gas harder. "Then we will all feel a little bit better. Get away from this trashy ass place!"

We all looked at her like wtf

"I know! The irony of it!"

And we laughed joyously.

"Y'all were in there 45 full minutes now what did you find!?"

Velma? Queen Elizabeth II

Daphne? Princess Di

Freddy? Well half was Harry and the other Willaim since after all, they were just half pints in 1993.

Laquisha Antuana Jefferson died far too young.

3 days later i had a heart attack and a stint was placed in my chest which later failed in 1997.

I can't handle racism. I can't handle the pain and suffering of innocent people.

I'm not like all the rest of you. I talk to the dead. And sometimes I'd rather be there than anywhere.

My days are long and hard. And sometimes I don't want to live any more.

I'm tired of loving and I'm tired of caring and not receiving anything proper in return.

So for someone like me, just a white girl in a wheel chair. Black Lives Matter marches and people being out and saying it and being seen supporting it.

For little Queens like Laquisha Antuana Jefferson, they were everything. She was out in 1991, she would escape and run down the street sometimes naked in her little wooden sandals with white leather straps.

"Girl! You need a shirt!"

"´hey i know you! You're my Army of Two! I didn't have time to get dressed. I knew the door was opening and. I had to escape! They keep me locked in you know but i can't miss this! Im all about Black Pride and Beauty!"

"Well let's cover some of that up, Miss Queen Nefertiti, you want a pink shirt or black?"

"Oh no!! There he is!! Hide me!!" This tiny child grabbed a shirt off the table, slipped it over her head and dove under the table in front of my legs. "Is he coming?"

He was going straight... So i called him over "miss queen Nefertiti just ran off on me like she own me. Like i don't have my own friends"

"Well what are you doing?"

"Well looking for her now?"

"No i mean what are you supposed to be doing besides looking for her?"

"Oh just meeting my friends to go on the prowl. See?" He lifted his shirt and showed his Panther Pride most people hid in case of cops or white supremacist "i got one, too. He tapped the table

"I got one, too!" She piped up. She knew not to run and hide in the streets and had some hope if she had one she could attend like it was a licence to prooowl.

"Shh... Do you hear something? What's that scuffling? It sounds like her wooden shoes! Do you got her?!?"

I nodded quietly

"What?! Where?!?"

"So i mean if i see her do you think you or your parents i mean your ma would mind she sit here for a spell while you're out on the road?"

"Aw man! I want to prowl. Aw shit! I said it again!" Ahe grabbed my leg and held on tight

So i told him silently.

"I mean sure uhh if you don't mind!"

"Well i got two little boys over there having lunch. Thwyre on break but usually they are over in this chalk lined area."

"I want to prowl!! I want to go meow!" I could feel her jaw move against my calf.

"I can take them for a walk up and down the street"

"Okay that willl work!!" She jumped up excited. She saw her brother and tried to take off.

"Wait I'm gonna stop you!!"

"No way!" She zig zagged right behind me.

"You'll stay right there?" He rubbed his skull "uggggg you know what?! My friends can wait!"

"No! I'll stay! I'll stay! I swear I'm like her! We're an Army of Two!"

"Okay but you know what? Since you're no longer butt naked" he knelt down next to her

"I know! I got dressed fast!"

"She did and all goddess like i never seen someone so fast

"Really? Now what?" She put her hands on either side of his face

"Maybe ill take you for a walk instead. And let you meet my friends then bring you back Here where its safe. Then you can play with those two boys ew yuck icky and be a mascot? Hey? What do you say?"

"I think i will enjoy that. I will go with you." They both stood and she placed her tiny hand in his extra large one.

"Do you want a double layer?"

"No i think it will be safe. If I feel any danger I'll just pick her up and hold her close and hide her black panther. Okay? And you if you feel disgusted or moody or anger, you just come to me and tell me up! I don't want the white supremacy to see they might hurt us and that's not fair is it?"

She shook her head while looking at her toes and she looked up with sad eyes "okay you up?" He picked her up quickly

"Who?!!? Where?!?" He spun around wildly.

She laughed joyously "oh i just wanted a hug!! I didn't know you would protect me!! You are like her! An Army of One! Okay put me down! Lets prowl!!"

When they returned a short time later he looked disturbed "what? What's happening?"

"Turns out my friends are from the white supremacy! She would run around acting wild and when she would see a cop she would bolt back to me Then we would walk silently and she would be all calm then as soon as we passed she would bolt off again which was fine, that's what she do. But then once we got to my friend she didn't know him cause he was alone prowling and she ran to me all "up up" but do you think she knows instinctively that is who is taking m3 away from her at nights? And maybe she thinks they are trouble for me and her? Because we are reincarnated and I'm not her brother that is for sure! But do you think that is what it is? I sure hope so?"

"How about one night instead of prowling you just come over here and BBQ for me? You know it hurts me to stand and.."

"Nope I'm looking for the white supremacy because I have a feeling they're out to kill my Queen Nefertiti"

"Well the ones she is afraid of, have him or them play at the BBQ and then i can find out. I have a nose for it"

"But theyre black!! Is that even possible?!"

"Id have to call Miss Harriet Tubman for sure, But i think anything is likely."

"But can you see past his skin color? He is dark! Darker than me!"

"I don't see skin color I promise if it makes you feel better I can imagine him as white"

"Okay that will work. Come on Miss, lets go in"

3 out of 4 additionally including himself I could imagine as white. Which i could derive as only no racial prejudice between those.

The 4th was the only one she liked. Turns out he was most afraid of white people.

And none were like the man who killed her who was black and a white supremacist living in Compton when they went to go visit her grandmother.

Laquisha Antuana Jefferson

6 months after her body was found, he drowned himself in the Buttermilk Channel between Brooklyn and Governors Island. The Coast Guard attempted to resuscitate and even called me to see him to bring him back to life.

"Oh no. I know him. He wont come back." When everyone moved away from him, I knelt down next to him and prouncounced him dead in the language of the Egyptians. And i leaned over him in a hug and cried.

I kissed his lips, closed his eyes and placed two gold coins over them "in love may you always be. I am too sorry for you. You will be my friend" i picked up his left hand and placed it between his belly button and heart then picked up his right "always for me and for her always in love. I am too sorry for me. I will always cry" I gently folded his stiff cold fingers together. "And in silence you will bear the heart of a true man. May you always be beautiful, kind and unsuffering in her love. May you rest in peace. Ah man"

Laquisha Antuana Jefferson you were a wild one.

The world has suffered in your death. May you always be risen again. In true love and faith. May your heart always be bright and safe from us and all the world. I will love you again. Ah man.

Thank you for understanding why we have killed her killer tonight. June 8, 2020. It has been long awaited and her murderer has suffered plenty in his life in Beverly Hills.