#I need messy bed head Floyd I’ll live that way

[clowning-constant]

I have such a specific idea for Floyd’s ‘Room Relaxation’ groovy and I can’t get it out of my head.

If I do not see his bed full of stuffed sea animals while he looks groggy as all hell, I’m going to riot.

[batarella]

The Commander - Part 11 (Arkham Knight x Reader)

This part has the most character development for our Commander here. the good stuff is about to begin. BUCKLE UP.

WORDS: 3356 WARNINGS: DEATH. AND JASON FLUFF BECAUSE WE ALL NEED THAT

Masterlist

THE COMMANDER - MASTERLIST

-----

The sun never shined this brightly into her room before.

Beauty. Perfection.  Bewitching, captivating beauty.

Y/N couldn’t help but run a finger across his stubble. Jason was still asleep, facing her. He never looked so peaceful with his mouth slightly parted and the muscles on his face relaxed. It was the first thing she saw when she opened her eyes.

It was like waking up in a lone bed by a lake. A clear, turquoise lake with a silent waterfall at the far back. With so much green around her, she couldn’t breathe any speck of corrupted air. There would be no one else but her, and she’d jumped into the cool waters. Nothing else in her mind, but the feel of it calming her skin.

She didn’t want to get up. Not even if she needed to.

And today, she really needed to.

Today, the wretched, horrible day.

October 31st.

Their last day at the barracks in Venezuela. By noon, they’d have cleared the building. By sundown, all units should have boarded the jets.

By 19:00 tonight, they arrive at Gotham.

But Jason. Jason. Jason. Jason. He was still asleep. She didn’t want to just wake him up. The last time he spent the night, she woke up alone in a wrecked bed.

Jason’s eyes slowly parted open, and immediately, he smiled at the sight of her like she was the sun.

God, he had her heart in such a twist.

Y/N inched nearer to him and placed the softest kiss on his lips. He groaned, with the same sexy voice he always had after waking up.

And it was like the waterfall fell harder into the lake, the sounds becoming more eminent and the water so much colder, sinking into her flesh.

He reached for her hair, letting her locks tangle into his fingers. Y/N closed her eyes with her nose touching his lips. Jason kissed her again, and very slightly pulled away.

“I’d love stay in, but we have to go,” she reluctantly said.

It was over too soon. The five minutes she had, an escape from who she was, what she had to do to live. This was all it was. He nodded and sat up. Jason swung his legs over the bed and grabbed his pants on the floor.

Y/N did the same, walking over to her closet and picking out a fresh set of clothes. “I’ll go out first. Wait a few minutes until everyone else had cleared the quarters then you walk out.”

Jason laughed, like what she said was just adorable. After placing both arms through the holes on her jacket, she walked up to Jason, still sitting on the bed, and he craned his head to look up at her. Y/N held his face.

“Tonight, I’m just the commander.”

He slowly stood up, “You’re never just the commander.” His lips met her forehead and he walked over to pick up his shirt and hoodie, putting them on. Y/N walked to the door, barely opening it just to squeeze herself up.

She took one last look at Jason.

“Ten minutes.”

He gave her the best smile she’s seen in her life, with his teeth showing and his eyes all crinkled up at the corners.

Jason was the best thing that ever happened to her.

Y/N smiled back and closed the door.

Xxxxxx

Five hundred, seventy-two soldiers.

Five hundred, seventy-two rifles strapped to their upper bodies.

The Knight’s insignia, painted over their arms, and their uniforms the same red as the sirens. And on their faces, a gas mask covering the whole of their faces.

Five hundred, seventy-two units, in ten straight columns, all facing the platform where the woman in command, the Militia Commander, was standing.

She waited for the siren to come to a halt. This was their last assembly, a little past noon. A short while after this, they board the jets.

“PORT ARMS.”

The rifles were brought to the front of their bodies. The Commander’s arms were behind her back. She watched for any movement out of place. So far, there weren’t any.

“RIGHT SHOULDER ARMS.”

All arms parallel to the floor, the rifles were brought to rest on their shoulders.

“PORT ARMS.”

“ORDER. ARMS.”

The rifles were brought to the floor, with their one hand holding it up.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

This was her biggest task to date.

Fifteen thousand dollars a day. For twelve weeks. That was what Jason promised her, to be given at the end of the night.

The Militia Commander’s face never faltered when her voice echoed throughout the halls.

“SIXTEEN COUNT. MANUAL ARMS.”

Five hundred seventy-two men. And not a hair out of sync.

At the front lines were the soldiers, including the checkpoint commanders. More than three hundred of them. Behind them, the brutes. Then the combat experts armed with swords. Finally, the medics stood at the far back.

Everything they’ve done, the build-up from the weeks of training. It all boils down to this night.

It started with Scarecrow releasing his first dose of the toxin in Pauli’s Diner, where a police officer shot five people and the rest dead from being mauled by their own friends and family. Then Crane sent out his warning. ‘Tomorrow, this will seem like child’s play.’

By now, the whole of Gotham will have been evacuated, save for the criminals, the thugs, the people with no other places to be.

They had the whole night. And with the five hundred soldiers in front of her, Gotham City will be theirs.

Jason stepped beside her. By the time the rifles came at a halt, the commander smiled. He turned his head to her, nodding.

“SQUAD ALPHA, AT EASE. ALL UNITS REPORT TO THE JETS AT 15:00 HOURS.”

“SIR, YES SIR!”

Like a final battle cry, her soldiers moved in orderly lines to the gates. They only had two hours and they leave the barracks for good. This morning they boarded all the drones and weapons caches left until the building looked nothing short of abandoned.

She stepped out the platform and grabbed her duffel bag sitting on the floor. There was a slight buzzing, coming from inside the biggest pocket. Placing it back on the floor, she opened it and dug out her clothes.

A sudden tightness came from her chest when she pulled out her phone. It was vibrating.

No.

Fucking no.

Before she flew to South America, she’d blocked her location, any tracking that could possibly affect her or the militia. She blocked every number possible. No one would be able to reach her no matter how much hacking had to take place.

All except one contact.

And she told that person never to call unless she absolutely had to.

Her fingers were shaking when she pressed the button to answer it.

“Susan?”

Jason went up to her, and she kept her eyes on him as she spoke. He pushed his visor open. He could tell something was wrong.

Susan, her uncle’s ex-wife. Y/N could hear her breathing on the other end, and she heard sobs. She knew her aunt could hear her.

“Susan, what’s going on?”

She heard her cry her name, in the softest voice. Like it would break if it were any louder. She heard Susan take a deep breath, and for a while, she was silent.

“Floyd is dead….”

She couldn’t see her own face.

And every word her aunt said after that, she couldn’t hear.

The marching of five hundred men, she couldn’t hear.

Her own breath, she couldn’t feel.

Like the clouds had stopped moving, and the air sucked into a vacuum. It was a messy blur, and the noise that just kept blowing into her ear. An empty, horrible noise. Like an inaudible screaming that sounded much like her own voice.

Susan was bawling at the other end of the phone. Eventually, Y/N heard a dead ringing. She dropped her phone to the ground.

Jason must’ve heard, because he looked just as distraught as she did.

“Y/N-“

“I have to go…”

To the empty rooms. To the abandoned training grounds. Anywhere. She just needed to move. Anything else and the ground would shake beneath her feet and pull her to the mantles. The floor wouldn’t stop spinning, and she had to keep herself up with her hand against the wall. Move. Move. Move. Where the noises wouldn’t reach her and the colors weren’t so loud.

She should have known. Floyd’s thinning hair, his boney physic, the slightest limp when he was escorted into the visiting area in Belle Reeves. And even before that, how he narrowly missed a shot, he wouldn’t stop beating himself over it. How he talked to her like it was the last time, how she never visited him again.

It was all there. How did she not see it.

‘A tumor. Right in the temple. There was no way he could have been saved. Not even if he wasn’t in prison.’

Her feet wouldn’t stop moving, not even when the walls looked crooked, moving closer together like it was to trap herself within them.

Y/N found herself in the combat grounds.

And by the doorway, her body sank. She took the rifle from her back and slammed it against the steel grounds.

And she released the same wordless cry that was inside her head, but much louder. Her cracked voice bounced off to the walls, louder and louder in search for any release of the painful tightness in the pit of her chest.

There was so much noise, yet so much silence. It was all at the same time. Like the wind was blowing right into her but she couldn’t find any air to breathe.

Her hands gripped on the rifle, her tears landing on the muzzle as her screams faded into echoes. She screamed again, and again, so much the twisting reached her throat. Her voice gave out and no longer could she cry. She fell to the floor, silent.

‘Breathe in. Breathe out.’

Her uncle’s voice, the same one she hears every time she fired a shot.

‘Breathe in. Breathe out, Y/N’ Floyd said. ‘Fire.’

She did as he would have told her. She slowed her heartbeat. She counted her breaths. She focused on the wall opposite of her. Farther. Focus. Focus.

Breathe.

Breathe.

Two arms wrapped around her, pulling her head onto his shoulder. Jason buried his head into her neck. She laid there, close to lifelessness, and stared at the ground. Jason pulled her even tighter.

“I’m here…”

Y/N let the tears fall, even on his armor. But she didn’t move. Even for a long while, none of them moved.

“You two kids done?”

Deathstroke. He was behind her.

“Slade-.”

“Squads Alpha through Foxtrot have boarded the jets. We need to go. Commander-“

Jason unwillingly pulled away. “Lawton. He’s dead.”

Her eyes stayed on the floor. She couldn’t see Deathstroke’s reaction.

“Deadshot?”

Jason nodded. He took both Y/N’s hands and slowly pulled her to stand up. “Come on, Y/N, we have to go.”

“Get over it, kid,” Slade said. “Your mentor had it coming.”

And her next move, no one even predicted. Jason didn’t move fast enough when the Commander charged for Deathstroke – fucking Deathstroke- holding his neck with her arm against the cement wall.

“Y/N!”

“He was my uncle, you son of a bitch.”

“I thought you hated him,” Slade said, pushing her away. Jason stood between her and Deathstroke, but even he wasn’t so sure if he was protecting her from Slade, or the other way around.

“Enough-“

“He raised me.”

Slade didn’t have an ounce of empathy. “Did he raise you? Or train you? There’s a difference. You barely have a life outside your firearms.”

“I kill only when I have to-“

“How many lives have you taken, huh?” Deathstroke was provoking her. “The same as I have.”

“That’s because a third of the people you’ve killed are innocent!”

“Commander! Slade!” Jason pushed her from stepping too close to the old man.

“Get your head back into the field, Commander,” Slade said. “We’re not about to drop everything because of you.”

She threw Jason’s hand away, then stormed out of the combat grounds.

“Where are you going?”

The Commander walked to the dark meeting room. The floor stopped spinning, and the walls stopped moving. Everything was silent now. Even Jason’s footsteps trailing just behind her. She walked into the room and Jason caught the door before she’d slammed it behind her. She sat on the chair, her head in her hands.

“I’m sorry,” she cried. “I’m so sorry…”

Jason kneeled in front of her and took her hands away from gripping her own hair too much. She was shaking, and her flesh felt dead cold. He took her face in his hands. “I’m here. Don’t be sorry. Don’t ever be sorry.”

“He was dying. The last time I saw him- God, I can't get his voice out of my head.”

“I know. I know,” he pulled her close and she had it in her to hug him back. “Don’t worry about the militia. Don’t worry about Slade. Just look at me. Look at me.”

She did, and she felt his lips against her forehead, so soft she could break from it.

“You can stay behind if you want. You don’t have to force yourself. We can handle this. You’ve done more than enough, Commander Y/N.”

She pulled him closer and sobbed into his shoulder. “I’m sorry-“

He shushed her, then let her cry in his arms.

He was dead. Floyd Lawton was dead. Her phone blocked any of his calls. He could have called her days ago. Yesterday. Calling to say goodbye. And she didn’t let him.

Her mentor. Her Father. The one she wasn’t born with. The man who took her in after his sister, her mother, didn’t want her. The man who raised her and loved her in his own way.

Jason didn’t let her go. Her tears had soaked his shoulder. Never, not even by herself, has she cried so much. She’s never experienced death, not when she never had many people close to her to begin with.

Is this how people feel? The friends and families of the hundreds of people she’s killed. Is this how they cope? After she’d fired the shot?

Has she caused hundreds, maybe thousands, so much pain? The same she felt right now?

His hand stroked her back. “Here,” Jason slightly pulled away. He handed her phone with a slightly cracked screen. “Call her.”

Her.

Of course.

Her. She grabbed her phone, and Jason nodded. He sat beside her while she found the contact and called.

The light of her life. The only good, most precious thing in the world before she met Jason. The one thing she always fought for. The one person she will never let darkness touch. Her.

She’d have heard the news by now. Every ring on her phone made her heart beat a little faster. Then she heard her sweet voice.

“Y/N?”

“Zoe…” Y/N cried, and she felt Jason’s hand wrap tighter around hers. He kept his eyes on her, and whenever he did, she calmed. “Zoe, I’m here…”

Her little cousin, who should be twelve years old by now. Who wasn’t much of a cousin as she was her sister. Zoe looked up to her like she was the best, most perfect woman in the world.

It was the other way around. Zoe was her happiness.

“Zoe…”

“Dad is gone,” she heard her say. Her voice was deeper, no longer the child she’d endlessly play with.

Y/N closed her eyes, the tears never-endingly dropping down her cheeks.

“Zoe, I’ll be there soon, okay?”

“You never visit anymore…”

“I know, monkey.” That was what she called her. Monkey. “But I’ll be there. And I’ll visit every week from now on.”

“You said that last time.”

She felt Jason’s thumb rub against the back of her hand, and she held it even tighter. His lips found her temple.

“I know. But I mean it this time. I promise.”

Floyd would want that. He loved his daughter more than anything. He’d want Y/N to take care of her.

“Promise…”

“Yes,” she said. “I promise. And I’ll buy you any toy you want. Every single week. You name it.”

“I’m twelve, Y/N. I don’t want toys anymore.”

“Of course,” she coughed a laugh. “Of course. Anything you want then. Books. Clothes. I’m rich now,” she glanced at Jason, who also managed a smile.

“You are?”

“Yes,” she wiped the tears away. Just the sound of her voice, everything felt better. “I have to go now, monkey. Can you give your phone to your mom, please?”

“Okay.”

“I love you, Zoe.”

“I love you, too, Y/N.”

There was ruffling, then she heard her aunt’s voice.

“Susan. Where are you?”

“We’ve evacuated the city. We’re in Bludhaven.”

Jason just watched her, and she went on telling her aunt what was about to happen. It was difficult to ask that from them. Especially right now.

But they had to go.

Y/N hang up on the phone. And instantly, she went back into Jason’s arms.

“Wait for me at the jet. I’ll be there in a minute.”

Jason cupped her cheek. “Are you sure?”

“I’ll be okay.”

He kissed her forehead, then her lips. Just one sweet kiss. He held both her hands and squeezed them tight.

“Don’t take long.”

She nodded, then Jason left the room, closing the door behind him.

And there was silence, save for a voice whispering into her ear.

It was what he’d want. What he always wanted for her.

Y/N breathed in, then her eyes darted over to the duffel bag.

He was preparing for this moment. That’s why he gave it to her. He knew he was dying.

With the slightest hesitation, she pried the pockets open until she reached the deepest compartment, one she hadn’t touched unless she absolutely needed to.

Floyd never gave her an alter ego. He taught her everything he knew, and made her do it exactly as he would.

He always called her his heir.

She opened the pocket, and a deep red peered out.

Y/N emptied the contents, took everything with her and went for the locker rooms. He gave these to her before he was arrested. She told him she didn’t want it, but her uncle was persistent.

It was the least she could do.

Dull red leather, a suit specially made for her, and silver plates for her shoulders, chest, arms, and lower body. Tight black boots, strapped up to her leg. A gun wrapped around her wrist, this time big enough to fire the same bullets as an M99 sniper. Another gun on her other hand, her rifle.

She faced the mirror.

Then she pulled the white mask over her head.

And staring at her reflection was the bright red light, glowing from the gun optics attached to her right eye.

Floyd Lawton never wanted her to be a sidekick. He wanted Y/N to be HIM after he was gone.

She stormed out the building, out into the hangar where the final jet was about to take off. The aircraft’s exit gate was wide open, leading up to the back where thirty of her men were strapped to the seats.

The Arkham Knight and Deathstroke awaited her at the entrance. The moment she stepped in, the gate folded back up and the jet prepared for take off.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Three hours, and she could feel the jet descending. The Arkham Knight, Deathstroke, and the Commander stood at the front lines where the gate at the back of the jet slowly descended.

She was the woman who led an army of five hundred seventy-two units, mercenaries recruited from all places around the world.

She was the woman about to take control over the City of Gotham, to take Batman head on.

She was the Commander to the Arkham Knight’s Militia.

The red on her optics burned bright at the first taste of Gotham’s darkness.

She was Deadshot.

-----

THE COMMANDER - MASTERLIST

-----

Taglist: everyartistwas-firstanamateur  @sarcasmismyfirstlove @damned-queen-of-gotham @idkmanicantenglish @wunderstell @birdy-bat-riya @get-loki@everyday-imfangirling @comic-nerd-dc @multifandoms916 @icequeen208@offendedfishnoises @egdolan @xemiefx @arkhamtoddler @elsenthal@mythicbitchx @supremehaunter @ burning-alive  @lucy-roo 

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #313

“i’m your turbo lover  /  tell me there’s no other”

Where are you located at this moment? In my bed. What if you found out your ex was having a child with someone else? If it was Sara, I'm finding out who the fuck I'm flying up there to punch his face in. If it was Jason, I'd either faint or be in the bathroom vomiting. Or both. I can almost promise you at least one or the other while I have an absolute emotional breakdown. I'm not at the point in my recovery where I can hear that and be entirely okay. I'd be happy for any of the others. At what age do you think you'll be ready to have children? Never. When was the last time you couldn't stop laughing? Why? I don't recall. Which of your friends do your parents get along best with? I guess Girt, since he's known my mom the longest of the friends I still have. I don't know about Dad; he barely knows any of my friends seeing as I don't live with him and see him rarely. Is there anyone in your friendship group that your parents don't like? No. Can you recall the last time you were extremely disappointed? I surprisingly can't remember, even though I know it was recent. Who was the last person to un-friend you on Facebook? I don't know, it's not like I go hunting people down if I notice the number has dropped, lol. Do you know why he/she decided to un-friend you? I'm certain it would've been something political. Are there any food wrappings, boxes, containers etc. in your room? No. Do you know anyone who does have cancer? I don't think anyone who currently has it, no. I may know someone via association, but idk. What is the worst medicine you've ever taken? There are two that very strongly stand out: the first one was in middle school, and the second sometime last year. I was put on an antidepressant that made me absolutely love life in the morning, like I would practically prance through school, but come afternoon, I was a fucking demon. Mom took me off that shit so fast. Most recently, my birth control was changed to have more estrogen for some reason I can't recall (maybe it had to do with mood?? idk), and it made me... I'm just gonna say I was a ~mess~. I slammed on breaks with it so fuckin fast. Safe to say I returned to my normal pill. Has your house or where you stayed ever flooded? My childhood home came very close during Hurricane Floyd. Thankfully the water never got actually inside the house, but it was an absolute lake outside. What was the last event or special occasion you participated in? My niece's birthday was actually a couple days ago, so we celebrated at my sister's house. What do you find yourself reminiscing about the most? I'll give you one guess. Do you have a favorite pianist? No. Song you listened to last is...? I have "Turbo Lover" by Judas Priest on right now. What's the last type of cookie you ate? Uhhh I would assume chocolate chip. Do you have your own computer? I have my own laptop, and I'm possibly getting an actual computer come May?? One of my WoW friends knows the hell I've been through with this laptop, and she and her husband are getting new computers then, so she's basically pushed her husband's old one on me, lol. Apparently it works just fine, he just wants something better. I've told her again and again to make some money off of it, but she's pretty much giving me no choice lmao. I appreciate it a whole lot, though. It'd be pretty nice to separate games onto an actual, capable desktop versus making my laptop sound like it's screaming for God's mercy if I boot something up. Describe your computer chair? I don't have one. Well, there's an old one in the extra room I'm going to end up using, but all I know is it's black. I've never paid closer attention to it. Do you sleep with your door open or closed? Open. I feel too isolated with it closed. Are you going to keep your last name when you get married? God no, it's very unlikely. I hate my last name, take it away. Does it bother you when people beg? Why are they begging, and how insistently? It depends. Do you have any weird rings? I have two, but neither I consider weird, at least. Well, I suppose the one with "bitch" carved on the inside would confuse non-Supernatural fans, haha. Are you anything like your siblings? Not really, no. At least, my two immediate sisters. Mom says I'm extremely similar to her eldest daughter though and wishes we'd talk more, but yeah, I just don't have anything to talk about with her. I'm so bad at initiating conversation. When was the last time you shaved your legs? October for when I was doing that witchy photoshoot with a friend. I absolutely hate shaving my legs and pretty much only do if anyone else whose opinion would affect me may see them. What would be the best surprise you could receive right now? Uhhh I guess all the "upgrades" I want to make to Venus' enclosure: a 40g tank and a nice, accurate hygrometer and thermometer, as well as the proper kind of lamp for her. I feel like such a "bad snake mom" still having her in her current terrarium because, while it's perfectly liveable and not dangerous, it's too small for her. It's pretty much always on my mind to some degree nowadays, so just like, dropping the terrarium and extra tools off would be a massive weight off my shoulders. Did you ever skip a grade or get held back a grade? No, but I was able to skip the intro Writing course the last time I was in college; I just started in Writing II. Who took your profile pic? Anywhere where it's a picture of myself, odds are me. I hate getting pictures taken, but if it's gonna happen, it'll be through myself, knowing my "good" angle and such, lol. Have you ever been fishing? Do you know anyone who likes fishing as a hobby? I've been fishing many times, especially as a kid with my dad. There are pleeeenty of people I know who enjoy it. I don't anymore. Do you own any cats? What color are their eyes? Yes; his are a light blue. Is there a rose bush in your garden? What color are its roses? We don't have a garden. When was the last time you spent over $100 in one transaction? What did you buy? Over $100 with my own cash, a plane ticket. My recent tattoo deposit was exactly a hundred. Do you sleep with a stuffed animal? Would you judge a grown adult for doing so? No; Roman would NEVER allow me to cuddle anything else, and I am not even remotely kidding. I couldn't care less if any adult does, though. Would you rather read an erotic novel or watch an erotic film? Ew, neither, but I guess a book would be better just so my eyes weren't forever scarred. What’s your favorite way to make your home smell good? Do you spend a lot of money on making this happen? INCENSE!!!! God, I love incense burners. I don't light it anymore though because Venus' terrarium is also in my room, and it's not good for snakes. What are the main two colors in the room you’re currently in? Did you pick these colors out yourself? Just... white. That's it. Well, my furniture is brown. I didn't pick either. How often do you wake up in the night needing to pee? Usually once, sometimes not at all anymore. I guess my bladder actually grew a pair. If you live in a household with pets, who is responsible for their care - both in terms of finance and the physical tasks involved? As far as the physical care, me. Mom does help me do a full clean of Venus' cage sometimes, though, because I don't trust myself to both keep her around my neck while I scrub the tank, hide, bowl, etc., with a cat that is my absolute shadow. I don't want to be bent over the tub and Roman tries to do something; he's shown very little interest in Venus, but still, I'm one hell of a paranoid snake mom that doesn't want to risk her life. Full cleans only happen like twice a year, so I don't mind too much asking my mother for some help. I should point out that Mom doesn't want to hold her, so we can't reverse roles. Do you have anything hanging from your ceiling apart from lights? Not anymore, no. At my old house and the one before, I had lots of Pyramid Head gift tags hanging, but our landlord doesn't want me to do that here. Would you describe yourself as neat, messy or somewhere in-between? I'm in-between. If you have pets, when was the last time one of them needed to go the vets? Venus had to go to the vet about a year into me having her because she was showing symptoms of an RI in strange breathing episodes, which can be fatal to a snake. Thank God, nature, whatever, that she didn't. There were warning signs, but closer watch over her humidity saved her. Roman, meanwhile, was taken to the vet like a year ago to be neutered. When the pandemic is over, what is one thing you can’t wait to do again? I barely ever left the house beforehand, so... I guess go to the movies. What’s one thing (aside from essentials) that you spend the most money on each month? Has anyone ever told you you’re obsessed or addicted with it? N/A What’s your favourite genre of TV show to watch? What’s your favourite show that’s not from that genre? If I had to pick, uhhh... yeah, idk, due to the whole "not into TV much to begin with" thing. Would you rather be employed or self-employed? Why? Self-employed, though taking care of all business matters yourself is/would suck. I just really want to be my own boss for the sake of photographing whatever I want. IIs your hair naturally curly, straight or somewhere in between? Do you wish it was different? It's straight, but on the wavy side, and I wish it wasn't. Do you ever play online games with your friends? Which one(s)? Just WoW. In the last week, have you had any alcoholic beverages? Which? No. Do you ever wear accessories in your hair? Which ones? No. Do you feel free to post your views on social media? Yep. I honestly don't care who it pisses off. What is your favorite work of historical fiction? Well, I don't really know what you consider truly "historical" in age... That, and I'm bad at dates to begin with. There are lots and lots of older books and movies I adore, though. Old Yeller is one of my favorite books ever, for one. The Boy In The Striped Pajamas makes me sob, too. What cartoon character looks like you? I remember when Hotel Transylvania came out, my ex's mob pointed out how much she thought I looked like the daughter, especially when my hair was dyed black. Do you have hope for the future? Some days I do, some days I don't. Do you believe in yourself? Ehhhh... debatable, idk. Do you have trouble letting go of your past? Oh yes. Were you happy in high school? It's funny, I was very depressed in HS, but due to Jason and friends, it's one of my most cherished time periods. Were you ever a teacher's favorite? I mean it modestly, but I was almost always pretty obviously one of the teachers' favorites. I was a good student. Are you popular? I wasn't. If you won a title in the senior class polls, what was it? I didn't. Have you ever had a medical condition that made you unable to work? My social anxiety is so debilitating that it's made it questionable. It ruined my very short-lived previous jobs. What makes your life worth living? My future goals, family, friends... What is your favorite Bible verse? I don't have one. List five careers you've considered. Paleontologist, vet, game designer, author, and wildlife biologist are all past ones. Do you have any unusual talents? If so, what? No. What do you get compliments on? My hair and my art, mostly. What have people told you you should be? I've heard "a vet" most in my life. What is holding you back? My (mostly social) anxiety and extreme fear of judgment. Do you have anyone purely evil in your life? Hell no, I wouldn't allow that person to stay in my life. Have you ever felt threatened for your life? I've felt scared for it, yes. While riding my bike once, I ran into a guy in my old neighborhood who had a criminal history, including assault, just asking what I was listening to on my iPod. I stopped because I was scared to keep going, and he wound up asking for my Facebook, but guess who didn't accept THAT friend request. List ten positive words that describe you. That's too much thinking, man. List ten negative words that [you feel] describe you. And that's too much negativity to fish in. Are you a good person or a bad person? I mean, I try to be a good one. Have you ever contemplated being a bad person? I've done bad things, but I've certainly never deliberated tried to be an overall bad person. Have you ever resorted to vandalism because you didn't have a voice? No. Have you ever egged someone's house? Wow, no. Do you want to egg someone's house? Also no because I'm a fucking adult. Have you ever seen a piece of graffiti that you are thankful for? What an odd question. I mean, no? Name three people who hurt you and didn't care. I am quite positive Colleen doesn't care about the many times she did considering she's always right. Was your first crush sexual, or no? No, I was just a kid. What would you do if you got pregnant right now? I honestly can't say I know. If I was God forbid raped, I'd probably have an abortion because I psychologically could not handle that without being scarred for life. If it was by my own stupidity, I feel I'd probably have the baby but give it up for adoption. I just can't raise a kid. Do you have a medical condition that you are embarrassed or ashamed to tell people you have? No, I don't think so. What do you get asked the most? Hm. OH, WAIT, THAT'S EASY. I get asked a lot if my lip piercing hurt. Have you ever stood up for someone else who was being bullied? I know I have before, but I don't remember the occasion. What tragic news stories that you've heard has touched you the most? Man, that's a lot to think about. You see news articles on Facebook all the time, and a whole lot of them touch me, so I dunno. What is your favorite thing to order at Taco Bell? I like the cheese quesadillas, and whatever those cinnamon bites are called are really good. I'm still tilted they got rid of the fiesta potatoes, because I adored those. Where do you have cutting scars (if you have any)? I only ever had them on my wrist, but you can't see them anymore. Do you like cotton candy? Not very, but I mean, I can have a bite or two. It's way too sweet to eat a lot of it. What's the best piece of graffiti you've ever seen? I'm unsure, but I've definitely seen beautiful work, especially online. Do you like tattoos? "Like" is a colossal understatement. Do you like piercings? Yep yep yep. Have you ever made someone so mad that they broke something? No. Those are not people I hang around with. Who is the last person you slow-danced with? Slow-danced? I don't think I've done that since Jason.

[hydethestash]

night fever

hyde x reader

drug tw (weed)

[been playing around with this for a while, let me know what you guys think and what should happen in the next part! (i meant to post this last night but got baked and forgot lol i’m sorry)]

.:.

point place, wisconsin

february 17th, 1977

9:03 p.m.

location:

eric forman’s basement

.:.

you laughed as you passed steven the bowl, your whole body shaking. he grabbed the yellow glass piece, grinning as he shook his head at your uncontrollable laughter. he can’t remember exactly why you all were laughing, but at the hurt look on kelso’s face and the smug look on donna’s he could take a guess. you were sitting on his lap and hanging with the others out in forman’s basement, doing what you guys always did on nights like this.

“i feel so bubbly!” you exclaimed as you leaned off steven’s lap to take a sip from your soda, the glass bottle clicking against your rings. you stared at the dainty gold pieces on your hand- studying the way they shined in the dim light before the flavor of the orange soda caught your attention, the taste unbelievable as you felt the fizz in your mouth, almost downing the whole bottle. you probably would have if steven hadn’t nudged your back.

you grinned as you set the bottle down on the basements makeshift table, looking behind you towards steven before looking around the circle.

steven and you were sat in his usual lawn chair sprawled out, each other’s legs tangled with one another. nobody was sat in front of the tv this time as the weather hummed in the background. kelso was in the corner giggling his ass off at god knows what, about to fall off his seat while eric was sat with donna, the two pressed against each other on the couch. eric seemed to be singing along to floyd in the background while donna lit the bowl for him. your smile stayed on your face as you listened to the music, day dreaming for only a moment-

you almost jumped out of your skin when steven squeezed your hip, nodding his head towards eric who was attempting to pass the piece to you.

you grabbed the bowl and lighter from him in a rush, accidentally dropping the lighter on the floor. as you reached to grab it you slipped, almost sliding off of stevens lap. your eyes widened as you went to protect the glass piece, hoping you wouldn’t spill ashes and glass everywhere on kitty’s clean floor. you doubt she would notice if you cleaned it, but you’d still feel bad mussing it up.

steven grabbed you before you could fall, pulling you closer up against his chest while trying to steady you. “easy” he murmured in your ear, your face turning red.

“i’m sorry- i’m like really high right now and super clumsy” you stuttered in his lap, suddenly embarrassed. you almost always dropped or spilled something when you were high, your limbs just got too heavy to manage. same with your voice—it felt like your tongue would get in the way when you spoke, syllables becoming one as letters were dropped or mangled.

he shook his head with a smirk and got the lighter off the floor while plucking the bowl out of your hands and holding it, motioning for you to move your head down.

“i’ll light it for you” he explained, flicking the lighter. you leaned down slightly and looked at him through your lashes, inhaling when you heard the tell-tale flick. you winced at the bright light of the flame burned your eyes before they adjusted, the smell of butane covering your senses. your eyes closed as you felt the hot smoke curl around your throat, pulling away when steven uncovered the carb.

you exhaled away from stevens face, watching him as he lit the bowl for himself. you swayed slightly to the guitar solo in the background, the music seeming to be wrapping around you as you enjoyed your high.

steven joined you, shifting closer to you before he inhaled, now making eye contact with you. his eyes twinkled in the dim light you noticed, brighter than any of the stones on your rings had. just the fact that you could even see him without the classic tinted shades was a treat.

you carded your fingers through his hair as he pulled away, inhaling any smoke that tried to escape from his lips.

he paused before grabbing for your face softly, his lips tight against yours for a second before he opened his mouth. you got the hint and did the same, inhaling the smoke that was in his mouth.

you blew the smoke out as you pulled away, he was already passing it back unto kelso.

kelso waved the bowl away laughing.

“i’m good, i’m about to leave and don’t want red or someone to smell me.” he laughed, passing it to donna who shrugged and took it. kelso fidgeted in his chair before you turned to him, confused.

“where are you going?” you asked slowly, more focused on the records playing in the background than the conversation. the smile on kelso’s face only grew as he looked around the room.

“your mom’s room!” he yelled, pointing at eric before yelling his signature “burn!”

donna smacked him since eric was busy with the pipe, you and hyde both threw matches and cards at him.

he gasped before ducking behind his chair. “truce! that was my eye!” he whined as steven managed to get a bottle cap past his barricade.

steven threw a final card before he motioned you to get up, wiping his hands on his pants.

“i’m gonna hit the bathroom and then we should get something to eat, i’m starving” he announced, directing the statement at the group but only looking at you. you were terrible at paying attention when you were baked, steven learned the hard way after you not listening one too many times.

you nodded as you plopped down on the chair where he was before, finishing off the bowl.

eric and donna whispered to each other before agreeing to going too, kelso just wanted to go for the ride.

“then it’s settled” he yawned before patting your head, trekking up the basement stairs.

“i’m gonna follow him—i’ll tell my mom we’re leaving” eric yawned, leaving donna on the couch while kelso played with the tv knobs.

donna and you both caught each other’s eyes as he stomped up the stairs; donna got up and started to clean up, dumping the ashes and spraying fabreeze while you lit some incense.

you stretched as you got off the lawn chair, groaning as your muscles tensed. you snagged a water off the table, chugging it as quickly as you could (you had some major cotton mouth). you shook your head as you got your bearings, time seeming to be moving slower every second. you shivered and looked around before going to stevens room and snatching his jacket off his cot bed.

his room is one of your favorite places, besides your bed and the hub. his room was small and always messy—almost the exact opposite of your room. he tried to fit everything he found into the closet sized area, and it showed. just on his bed alone besides his signature jacket lie a video camera, a couple rolls of film, two vinyl records and one of your shirts you left on his floor from the last time you came over. it was endearing, but annoying when you were looking for something specific.

you zipped up the familiar smell around you of cheap cologne, weed, and mint before grabbing your wallet off his dresser and heading back into the main room, steven and eric already back from the bathroom.

“where we going and who’s driving?” you asked, leaning on steven. everybody seemed to speak at once, ideas coming from every direction.

“we could go to the hub?” donna suggested, but hyde shook his head.

“too far away”

eric looked up, tilting his head “what about that new chicken place?”

“i don’t have that type of money” you snorted, looking up at hyde.

“i really want some ice cream” kelso sighed, messing with some random crap that was on the table.

“i could go for a burger” you responded, snapping your fingers. “what about fatso burger?”

“that could work, it’s like 2 miles away and closes at 11” donna provided, looking at kelso while he pouted “and they have milk shakes”

you thought he murmured a complaint and was proven right when donna smacked him upside his head. he gasped, clutching his head before backing away.

everyone shuffled around the room, getting their coats and shoes on as eric looked for his keys. after none of you could find the keys after looking for ten minutes, you guys decided that nobody should be driving, so you all slipped out the basement door as eric locked it behind himself.

the night was cool as the five of you walked down the street, singing along to the songs you guys had heard on the radio earlier. you bobbed your head as eric played the air guitar and kelso attempted to dance. steven ended up lighting a joint he found in his pocket on the way, passing it back and forth with donna as they walked behind the rest of you.

while you and steven have been going steady for a couple months now, her and eric were just now getting into their relationship, god knows where jackie and kelso are in theirs. you could hear their conversation, hyde giving donna advice for eric, their voices a low hum in the back of your thoughts.

you looked at the night sky, the chilly winter air whipping your hair in your face. thank god it wasn’t snowing this week, you needed a break from the cold. you didn’t get to spend as much time as usual when the winter storm would hit and honestly- it sucked. you hardly got the chance anymore to look at the night sky like you used to, talking to the moon as you counted the stars in the sky. you didn’t get too far along before a lit joint obstructed your view, hyde silently asking if you wanted to hit it.

you stared at the view for a moment, entranced by the red glow of the cherry and the white glow of the moon. you plucked the joint out of his hand, taking a deep drag. you loved and lived joints, it was your favorite way to smoke. you knew hyde was thinking this as you slowly inhaled, your eyes slightly lowering as your cheeks hollowed.

you blew a smoke ring into the still night air before blowing the rest in his face, smirking.

hyde began to open his mouth to respond before he got cut off by kelso, who yelled loud enough to let everybody in point place know they finally made it to fatso burger.

[raybansandcoffee]

Adventure of a Lifetime: Chapter Eight

If you haven’t read the first seven chapters you can find them HERE.

*****

A piece of my hair fell from my messy bun into my face. As I reached for it Jeremy’s hand reached up and brushed it out of my face. His hand stopped and his thumb brushed against my cheek. Our eyes connected as I looked up. I could feel the blush creeping into my cheek. It was that intense kind of eye contact that could make you feel like your stomach had temporarily relocated into your throat.

“I love you,” Jeremy said before bending down to kiss me. Our lips connected and a jolt of electricity shot through my body. The kiss ended and I backed away to look up into his eyes again.

“I love you too.” As he pulled me back in for another kiss and started to unbutton my shirt Michael Giacchino's theme from JJ Abram’s Star Trek filled the air at an almost deafening volume. “Where is that coming from?” Jeremy started to get blurry in my vision when the same 30 seconds of the song started to play again at that same unbearably loud volume. I shot straight up in bed. It was my phone ringing and waking me up from a dream.

“Hello,” I answered without looking at my phone to see who was calling.

“Hey Charlie, it’s Jeremy.”

“Hi.” Fuck. He was in my dream. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. “What’s up?”

“I was calling to check and see that you were awake before I headed over.”

“Yeah, I’m up. Come on over.”

“Alright. I’ll be there in a little bit.” With that, I hung up the phone and fell back onto the bed. I pulled my pillow over my head and screamed into it. This was NOT supposed to happen. I was not supposed to be having dreams about my daughter’s best friend’s Dad. I was not supposed to be having sex dreams about Jeremy. I mean I know it wasn’t a sex dream yet but it was totally headed that way if I hadn’t been woken up. One more scream into the pillow and I crawled out of bed. I wandered into the bathroom before mindlessly making my way into the closet. I definitely should not have stayed up as late as I had and should never have drank as much tequila as I did. I pulled on the shorts I wore yesterday, a red lace bralet, and a faded black Pink Floyd t-shirt. The sleeves had been cut off of the shirt and showed a little bit of the lace on the sides and at the neckline. I put my feet in my slip-on red and black checkered Vans then I hurried back into the bathroom and put a little bit of makeup on before going downstairs.

“Good morning,” Savannah said. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired. I sort of feel like I was run over by a truck.”

“Same,” Tony groaned.

“How are you alive and in here already this morning?” I asked.

“I woke up because there is SO much light in my bedroom and I couldn’t fall back asleep. Then I got bored so I came in here to hang out. I thought about waking you up but didn’t want to get my head taken off.”

“If you had you would not be getting Nonna DeLuca’s meatballs.”

“Meatball!” Axel yelled.

“Yup dude. Mama’s makin’ meatballs today. She might need to make coffee first.”

“Did someone say coffee?” I turned to see Jeremy walking in the door. He had a drink caddy from a coffee shop in his hands.

“You are like an angel.” He came over to me and handed me a cup that had my name on it.

“Good morning, Charlie.” He hugged me and I felt him leave a kiss on my cheek.

“Good morning to you, my coffee-delivering hero.”

“Good morning Tony and Savy. Hey Axe-Man.” He proceeded to give a coffee to Savannah and Tony and high-fived Axel. He took the coffee that was meant for him and threw the caddy into the trash in the kitchen. “Where are the girls?” he asked after taking a sip of his coffee.

“They wanted to play with the Barbie Dream House this morning so they are still upstairs. I just checked on them about 10 minutes ago,” Savannah answered.

“Nice. So weren’t you supposed to be cooking?” Jeremy asked as he looked at me.

“I was maybe asleep when you called. The fact that I was capable of making myself look human before you got here should leave you impressed.”

“Oh, it does.” He raised his eyebrows at me before taking another drink of his coffee.

“Okay, you two are in charge of the tiny humans today, I am in charge of the meatballs. Jeremy do you want to be in charge of going with me to the grocery store to buy what I need?”

“Sounds great.”

“We will be right back,” I said before I walked through the first floor towards the garage. Jeremy followed. I grabbed my purse from where I’d dropped it in the butler’s pantry yesterday and opened the door to the garage.

“What’s up there?” I hadn’t taken Jeremy on the tour of the garage half of the house.

“The room my sister usually stays in. There’s a small room off of it that she can use to work when she’s here. Though she’ll probably be evicted from it when my Dad and Mandi come out.”

“Damn, you’ve got toys.”

“These aren’t even the toys. The garage under Tony’s place has some ATVs and stuff. Michael bought every single toy you could imagine wanting out here. There’s even a thing that’s big enough to plow the driveway which is ridiculous because the driveway is heated.”

“Seriously?” I nodded. “So what are these if not toys?”

“Well, the Wrangler is my baby. Most girls in Beverly Hills ask for a cute, zippy little sports car. I asked for something I could go off-roading and into the desert with.” Jeremy started to laugh. “I was still driving it when I turned 35. My Dad convinced me to sell it to him and I bought a new one.”

“Why did your Dad want an almost 20-year-old Jeep?”

“Umm, for me to not be driving it, mainly. It’s still at his house. I think he drives it for fun on occasion. It was also only a 2-door. I would’ve been fucked if I still had it.” I pointed to the Ford F150 Raptor in the other garage stall. “The Raptor was Michael’s toy here. He bought it when they bought the house.”

“So what is that flashy ass Benz I’ve seen you drive in the school pick up all year?”

“That was Sam’s. It was her push present for Axel. She’d really wanted a G Wagon but Michael made her get one with a third row because he wanted to have more babies.” I giggled a little. “When they died everything was left to me. Everything was paid off for the truck and the GLS because Michael refused to have car payments, so I kept both of them. The idea of taking the babies around in a Wrangler had me terrified. I also maybe love having the doors off of it WAY too much to let kids in the back. It’s really, really difficult to get them in and out of the Raptor. I have to do it for both of them, the GLS Ellery can climb in and out of now that she’s in a booster seat.” The doors were currently off of the Wrangler, along with the roof. Something I’d done over the weekend. I walked over to the Wrangler and climbed in. I plugged my iPhone in, picked some music and put my sunglasses on. “Wait? Did you just say all year? You’ve seen me in the school pick up all year? I met you two freaking days ago.”

“Of course I did. My daughter’s best friend had a hot mom who either showed up in a flashy ass Benz or a giant truck. It’s hard to miss you in one of those.”

“Every damn Mom in that parking lot drives some luxury vehicle. Most of them have more than one.”

“Also, you are one of the few parents who didn’t sit in the drive and honk their horn at their kid while they stare at their cell phone. You seem like the kind of Mom that gets involved and cares.”

“I definitely try to be. Deep down I’m the girl that wants to pull the doors and roof off of my Jeep and pick the kid up with classic rock blaring to scare the Moms but alas, I don’t.”

“You probably had way too much fun in a Wrangler when you were younger.” I backed out of the garage, turned and started to head down the driveway.

“Are you fucking kidding me? I still have too much fun in a Wrangler. My friends all got speeding tickets in their Audis and BMWs. I usually got stuck or tried to see how far I could take it before we thought the Jeep would flip. Frankie did the typical thing and got a cute little convertible. She and Mandi tried to convince me I wanted an M3 like they both had. Which of course makes it sound like we were spoiled brats that I could’ve picked a BMW M3 as a 16-year-old. But honestly, that was the life I grew up in. I didn’t know anything other than that life and I didn’t want any of it. Frankie embraced it. She was super popular, cheerleader, varsity athlete. I either had my head in the books or my hands on an instrument. I worked my ass off to get a full-ride scholarship to college so that I didn’t have to accept money from my parents and could do what I wanted and never worry that I wasn’t living up to their expectations with their money over my head.”

“So sexy and smart. You’re the whole fuckin’ package.” I started nervously laughing again.

“I am far from it. I am awkward, a bit neurotic at times, and have been known to talk to myself, like a lot. I am just really good at hiding all of that in this package.” I waived my hands around me while I laughed. “Which by the way is not sexy, just a bit crazy.”

“Oh, it is. Also, a little bit crazy can be fucking sexy.”

“Stop, the flirting isn’t necessary. I’m cooking you dinner tonight without it.”

“Flirting is fun. You just seem a little out of practice. Which is cute. You nervous laugh every time I flirt with you. That’s adorable. You just need to get back into practice.”

“Being out of practice is an understatement. I was in a relationship for 5 and a half years. I haven’t had to actually flirt in so long I don’t even remember what flirting is.”

“You should re-learn how to flirt. It’s fun. You’d like it. I certainly enjoy it.” I glanced over at him and started to laugh.

“You might be the crazy one. I mean you invited me to your house without knowing me. I could’ve been a fucking stalker.”

“If you were a stalker you would’ve been at Ava’s birthday party and not sent your teenage nanny.”

“Probably true.”

“Definitely true. There are Moms that showed up at her birthday party and stayed, even though they didn’t have to and instead of watching their kids tried to flirt with me or just stare at me while I was trying to play with all of the kids.”

“There are some weird Moms. I learned quickly that I did not fit in with the PTA Moms at school.” We continued to talk about the weirdness of parenting by ourselves in this environment on the drive to the grocery store. I pulled into a spot near the door and parked. When we walked inside Jeremy grabbed the cart as I pulled up the list I’d made on my phone while Tony and I were drinking last night. “So do you or Ava have any food allergies? Is there anything she doesn’t like or that you both don’t eat?”

“Nope. We will both eat anything and are really damn lucky to be getting a home-cooked meal like the one you are preparing.”

“You’re both just lucky that I love my brother because this is something he makes me cook often despite it being a pain in the ass. Frankie and I are the only ones other than our Grandma and one of our aunts who can make it. I keep trying to convince Tony that men who can cook are attractive and that he needs to learn.”

“I’ve heard that. I’ve maybe even impressed a woman or two in my life with my skills in the kitchen. You should come over for dinner soon. Ava is obsessed with tacos so it’s always Taco Tuesday at our house.”

“I love a good taco. I miss living in LA. There were so many awesome restaurants or trucks. There was a truck that was always outside of our studio and I think I ate at it every single day.”

“Maybe you’ll have to show me where your studio is some time.”

“I miss it, it doesn’t exist anymore though. When I sold it so I could move here the company that bought it gutted everything and it became a doctor’s office. I’ve got a friend with studio space in Santa Monica that I know I can just show up and he’ll let me have space to work.”

“A fellow composer?”

“Yes and no. He does some composing for film and TV but he’s also in a couple of bands, he’s done some producing of stuff. He grew up around music and honestly some of the world’s greatest musicians so he does a little bit of everything. And his space is amazing and close to my Dad’s place so I’ve been known to just wander in, find one of his guitars and start goofing around.”

“That’s nice to still have there. I have a studio in my house in LA and here. Not nearly as nice as yours but it’s a new project. I’m working on making it better. Your expert help might be needed.”

“I just might be able to provide some help and contacts for you. I work with a lot of great companies that gave me some great shit when I set mine up.”

“That would be awesome. I’ll have to let you check the stuff out and tell me what you think I need.”

“I sort of geek out about the tech stuff so I’m just warning you now.” I grabbed several bags of lemons from the produce section.

“Lemons for spaghetti and meatballs?” He raised an eyebrow because the idea of lemons being used in spaghetti and meatballs would be unconventional.

“Dessert.”

“Oh. You’re baking too?”

“I am. Lemon pie. Tony didn’t ask for it but he’ll be really excited to have it. I also am almost out of the batch of homemade limoncello that I always have around. So I need to make more since it takes what feels like forever to be ready.”

“You make homemade limoncello?”

“I do. I’m Italian. This is a thing we do, at least in my family. I learned how to make it when I was a teenager. And with my family being here soon I need to have more than what I have in the house right now because I’m down to my last bottle. I’ve baked with it recently so I ran through the last batch faster than I normally do.”

“That’s sort of awesome. I’m going to have to watch you make this too. I’m intrigued by everything that you are doing today. It’s like the adorable little Italian housewife. Only this one is in a Pink Floyd t-shirt.”

“Oh, I can pull out the stops and become the little Italian housewife. I spent several summers perfecting it when I was younger and still question why I ever came home. It’s even better when I have dark hair because I fit the stereotype.”

“You lived in Italy?”

“My family has a villa on the Amalfi Coast. I spent at least a month of every summer growing up there with my Dad. Then I lived there the entire summer before I started college. My ex was a writer so traveling was easy for us. We stayed there for a month and a half several years ago while he worked on a novel. I haven’t been in way too long, my last trip was like 18 months ago. I miss it. It’s my favorite place in the world. Lounging in the pool. Wandering through town on a Vespa. Waking up with views of the sea out my window. Afternoon naps in a hammock with the breeze and smells and now I miss Italy. The obsession with lemons is because I’d get to pick fresh lemons from our little lemon orchard. I baked. I made limoncello. Homemade lemonade. Lemon everything. We are planning a trip as a family at the end of the summer so the kids can go for their first time.”

“That will be nice. Really, every summer as a kid? So do you speak Italian?”

“I do. I don’t speak it often enough because basically, only my family speaks it. I tried to teach Savannah when she was a kid. She’s been with me several times since she was little. Eventually, I’ll try to teach the kids. I considered only speaking to Axel in Italian when he was a baby hoping he’d grow up bilingual but it weirded out Elle so I stopped doing it. Someday I’ll teach them both, growing up bilingual was fun. Frankie and I essentially spoke in code around friends, women that Dad dated before Mandi, and some of our cousins who never learned.”

“That would be fun.”

“Oh it is, we still do it because Ryan has no idea what we are saying and neither do any of the kids.” He laughed at that. It was really funny to watch Ryan’s face contort as we started to speak in Italian. We could talk about him and he had no idea what we said. We wandered through the grocery store and I watched as he threw junk food in the cart. The last stop was the wine aisle before we headed to check out. I used my expert blocking skills when he tried to pay for the groceries.

“You know you could’ve let me pay. You are doing all the hard work,” he said as we walked to the car.

“I could have. But I also didn’t have to. I find it hilarious that you doubted my skills when it came to blocking in there. I am the middle child. I grew up playing defense.” He helped me load the groceries into the back of my Wrangler and we climbed in to head back to my house.

“So when does your family get here?”

“Two weeks and they will be here for four or five days. By the time it’s over I’m going to need a vacation from the vacation of them being here.” Jeremy laughed. “Frankie wanted to plan every moment of it so that I didn’t have time to think about the horrible thing we are together to memorialize but I tried to convince her we didn’t need to do that. I just want everyone here. I’m sure that with the number of kids that will be here that not having a pool will become a pain in the ass. These are California kids. There’s only so much they are willing to do that doesn’t involve water in the summer.”

“You can borrow my pool.”

“I’ll figure something out. There are some resorts around here.”

“Seriously, you can borrow my pool,” he said again. We stopped at a stoplight and I turned to look at him and smiled. “I like you. It’s going to be a rough weekend for you. If I can help make it easier by giving the kids something to do that keeps them busy and gives you a chance to breathe, then I want to help. Plus I love kids. The more my house is filled with the better.”

“You are way too kind. For real. You’re the nicest person I’ve met since I moved here.”

“I could probably say the same about you. I mean I’ve lived here longer but you’re still the best person I’ve met here. While the circumstances that brought you here suck and while I am so sorry that you had to go through that, I’m glad I met you. Extremely glad.” I felt the blush creep into my cheeks. I turned my eyes away from him and to the lights just as they turned green. The rest of the drive home was fairly quiet, I didn’t really know how to reply to that. I mean, I felt the same way but knowing someone for two days and admitting that they are the best thing the last year has brought you seemed psychotic. It didn’t seem possible. It didn’t seem logical or practical or anything. It seemed crazy. Which I guess fit the theme. The last year of my life had been completely crazy and unpredictable and unstable. It had been an adventure that while I would give everything to have Sam back, I was doing my best to start enjoying it. To embrace this role and life I’d had thrust upon me in an instant. To do everything I could to live the way Sam would want me to and not just sit and cry about her not being here anymore. She’d be absolutely irate with me that I stopped living when she died.

I pulled the Jeep into the driveway and parked in the garage before Jeremy and I started to unload the groceries. He sat at the island talking to Tony, who was making more coffee, while I put the groceries away. I started to pull together the ingredients and spices I would need for the sauce and meatballs and put them on a tray before taking them out of the pantry taking them into the main part of the kitchen. I grabbed the biggest pot I had.

“You bought a grove’s worth of lemons today,” Tony said.

“I did. I’m down to one full bottle and one partial bottle of limoncello. I need to make a batch before the family gets here.”

“There’s enough for at least two batches here.”

“I’m baking you a pie too.” Tony walked over to me and engulfed me in a hug. He stood there squeezing me as tightly as possible.

“You are the best sister ever. Just don’t tell Frankie I said that.”

“Never. She also would totally agree with you if I baked her a pie.”

“She would,” Tony replied laughing. “You are the best of us, I’ll easily admit that.”

“You’re such a good ego boost to have around here.” I hugged him tightly again before bumping him away with my hip so I could get started. “Alexa,” I said and watched the device that sat on the counter light up at the sound of my voice. “Turn on my cooking playlist.”

“Now playing Charlie’s Cooking Playlist on Amazon Music,” the device replied as music started to fill the kitchen. I grabbed myself another coffee and got started on the food. Eventually, Savannah went upstairs to put Axel down for a nap and play with the girls. Once the meatballs were in the pot, the lemon pie was out of the oven and in the refrigerator to cool, and the batch of limoncello was in the pantry to start its long process, Tony and Jeremy followed me downstairs to the studio. Savannah had promised to stir the sauce so I could have grown up adult time for a while.

“Okay, I need to know the guitar hiding spots,” Jeremy said. Tony’s eyes lit up. Even he didn’t know all of them so having a partner-in-crime when trying to locate the hiding spots made him happy.

“I did find my favorite guitars of hers last night. She even let me play Lucy,” Tony said.

“I need to meet this Lucy,” Jeremy replied. I walked over to a set of doors that had a keypad on them to lock the doors. I entered the code and opened the door. Inside were several guitar cases placed like books. My hand gripped the handle of the familiar case and I took it out, making sure that I did so carefully and that none of the other guitars inside tipped over. Tony and Jeremy were sitting on the couch I had in the studio, I placed the case on the table and turned it to face Jeremy. He slowly opened the case revealing, Lucy. “She’s beautiful.”

“She plays like a fucking dream,” Tony said.

“Clapton’s review was basically that he couldn’t tell the difference between this and the original. If I had to pick a favorite guitar that I own, it would be this.”

“Despite the fact that if you listen to anything she records she uses her Strats on basically everything.” Tony loved to pick on me explaining it like my Fender was my steady relationship, the loving husband that would go nowhere. The Gibson was the person I cheated on and made sweet love to but kept that hidden. It maybe helped that Fender had always been extremely good to me working to build guitars just the way I wanted them to be and continued to let me fiddle and change things until I had a perfect guitar. I’d only ever bought Gibson in a guitar shop or online. I’d never worked closely with anyone at Gibson the way I had with Fender since I was fairly new in the game.

“A Strat is my workhorse. That guitar has honestly never done much then get shown to people and played a handful of times so that I can feel like I’m Eric Clapton being taken into Abbey Road to record with The Beatles. You know, when I’m living out my little fantasy in my mind.” Jeremy strummed the strings lightly as sound quietly rang from them. “Here let me show you how great she sounds.” He handed the guitar to me and I walked over to my amp set up and plugged it in before turning the amp on. Tony smiled knowing what I was doing. He stood from the couch clearing the coffee table and hurrying to the piano. He expertly played McCartney’s opening piano part before I came in on guitar.

We’d learned to play together when we were young and at one point he’d tried to convince me we were starting a band together. I almost considered it but instead convinced him that getting into Stanford was a good thing and he didn’t need to run away from all responsibility. I’d tried the same thing. I nearly didn’t get on the plane in Italy to come back to the states to start my freshman year. By that time I’d already met Sam who threatened me within an inch of my life if I didn’t get on that plane to be her roommate. Tony and I were kindred spirits, which I think terrified our parents just a little. We could read each others mind, finish each others sentences, and in a moment like this with a guitar in my hands and my brother’s hands on the piano keys I could zone out and forget everything going on in the world. I easily played through the lead guitar part of ‘While My Guitar Gently Weeps’ as if it was the thing I did best in the world and in this moment, it almost was.

“That was fucking beautiful. Is that your favorite song?” Jeremy asked.

“I can’t pick a favorite song. It’s a fun solo to play. I mean essentially anything from Clapton is fun to play. One of my main work horses is based off of his guitar, Blackie. I’ve made very few adjustments to it. The other is based off of David Gilmour’s Black Strat.” I watched Tony walk over to the glass door and open it, letting in my two tuxedo cats, both black and white, one slightly chubbier than the other.

“Hi boys.” I bent down to pet each of them as they meowed their greeting at me.

“I didn’t realize animals lived here,” Jeremy said as the larger of the two jumped onto the couch beside where Tony had sat with one of my guitars that he’d grabbed from a rack as I packed up Lucy. I placed her back into the special closet before grabbing one of my main Strats and plugging it in.

“She has two cats. This is Harrison and that,” Tony gestured to the skinnier cat who was now sitting in the chair that was at my computer. “That is Clapton.”

“What not Lennon and McCartney?” Jeremy asked. “I mean they are after all the dream duo right?”

“Nah,” I answered. “Clapton and Harrison for sure. They made beautiful music together and hell what more of a dream duo can you have. They even shared a wife. Ellie had two fish named Lennon and McCartney. It wasn’t pretty. Her Dad didn’t realize that beta fish should be alone.” Laughter filled the room. “So that’s a traumatic experience for her. I adopted Clapton and Harrison 8 years ago from a rescue that I volunteered for.”

“Trust me, when she named them one of her friends told her she was crazy.”

“Only because he suddenly didn’t know if I was talking to him or the cat.” Jeremy’s face looked confused. “My friend with the studio in Santa Barbara.” Jeremy nodded recalling our prior conversation. “It’s Dhani Harrison, George Harrison’s son. So my cat is sort of named after him which he found weird at first and then it became this ongoing joke that every time he was at my condo he took selfies with the cat. He actually asks to talk to the cat when we FaceTime when I’m on the struggle bus with a song. I do still need to round out the crew. I want a Hendrix, Petty, Dylan, and Gilmour.”

“Gilmour needs to be a dog. Dogs of war and men of hate. With no cause, we don’t discriminate. Discovery is to be disowned. Our currency is flesh and bone,” Tony sang the Pink Floyd lyrics that rounded out his theory.

“Your niece wants a dog so that might happen. Though she’s not so sure how she feels about Gilmour as a name. She keeps trying to call Harrison, Harry which I sort of let slide. She tried calling him Dhani and then George which has kind of won. Poor dude is confused. Clap on the other hand is a no, so she calls him Eric. Which is almost too hilarious to listen to a kid as small as her have conversations with cats who have such basic human names.”

“She’s my favorite human.” Tony really did love her. Him being here was going to be a good thing.

“She is pretty much the best. She’s young and already has her mother’s sense of humor. Teenage Ellery will be the death of me.” Jeremy started to search through the cabinets and drawers looking at my guitars. I kicked Clapton out of my chair and sat down at my computer. “T, I need you to hear what I’ve been writing this week. I feel like I’m stuck on something that you can help me figure out.”

“What is the score for?” he asked as he stood up and walked towards me. He knew that I was often going the extra step when working of splicing the video and the music together so I could watch the scene with the music in the places I thought the production team would use it.

“That Netflix series. I sent it to Dhani the other night but I’m fairly certain he spent yesterday on planes to get home to spend some time back in England. So he’s been useless at helping me.” Tony, being the weirdo that he is, sat down on my lap to see the screen. I watched him hit play and take in the way I’d put it together. “I feel like the piano needs to be….more sweeping or something.”

“You’re too critical of yourself. It sounds phenomenal together. I get what you’re saying but I think the more subtle sound works well with the scene. I mean I don’t know what’s happening in it completely but it works.”

“I didn’t catch the scene but the music sounds great,” Jeremy said. I watched as he sat back down on the couch with one of my acoustic guitars and started to strum it. “So what else is in with Lucy? I mean I assume it’s your favorites because it’s locked and fireproof, right?”

“It is. How did you guess?”

“Most people aren’t going to leave a $15,000 guitar just laying around the house,” he replied.

“Umm, a couple of special ones from friends. One that my Dad gave me when I got my masters degree. It’s signed by my professors, family, and close friends. It was the guest book at the party he threw for my graduation. I have a couple of other special edition guitars in there too. All of the ones that are are essentially irreplaceable. I also have Sam’s favorite guitars in there so they are safe for the kids.”

“Did you keep all of her instruments?” Jeremy asked.

“I did. There’s a fireproof safe not in here that has most of them. I won’t use them for daily use type stuff but the kids might want them some day. Michael’s drum kit is in there as well. The only instrument of their’s not in the safe is the baby grand upstairs.”

“That’s good of you to keep that stuff for them. They will cherish it someday.”

“I hope so. Piano lessons with Ellery are tough.”

“She’s not you or your kid,” Tony said. “You at 5 loved it.” He glanced to Jeremy. “I’m well aware that I wasn’t alive when she was 5 but you should hear our father go on and on and on about her. The prodigy. The savant. The child star. One of us runs an incredible non-profit that is helping women achieve equality around the world all while getting her law degree and having three kids because she’s a fucking overachiever, the other of us got a full-ride scholarship to multiple Ivy League schools, including both Harvard and Yale, as well as Stanford and then proceeded to graduate with honors and two degrees. You wouldn’t even have a clue about that. The only one he brags about is her.”

“I am 100% Dad’s favorite,” I admitted. “There’s no question about it. It’s basically because I let him come with me to premieres and award shows. Plus I will tolerate his desire to play music with me. You won’t and Frankie can’t.”

“He likes to sit around and pretend he’s Bob Dylan, not like just play the song but impersonate him. Raybans, weird hats, and all. He’s a strange dude sometimes. He used to do that when I had my friends over thinking it made him the ‘cool dad’ instead of the suit wearing, lawyer Dad. It was just weird.” Tony was laughing as he spoke. He had the exact same laugh that I did which was also our Dad’s laugh.

“These days when he does that he’ll even sit on the deck by the pool and smoke some pot too. Unlike me, Dad didn’t have the benefit to choose whatever he wanted to be when he grew up. He had to be a lawyer. If you ask him now, he still says he wants to be Bob Dylan when he grows up.”

“That’s great. It’s also awesome that your family gets along that well. That you can all sit around and play together.”

“Most of us can,” Tony said.

“Frankie is helpless when it comes to music. Could never learn to read music, couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket. I tried really, really hard to teach her stuff and she’s just helpless. Which is funny because her husband can play guitar and piano, it’s part of what won her over.”

“Is your mother also a musician?” Jeremy asked.

“Not really. I mean she can sing but she never really cared to do it. Her art was photography. Everything from music photography, which is probably her biggest love, to photojournalism that took her to warzones, developing nations, major national and world events. She’s an incredible photographer and I’m glad that she was able to pursue it the way she wanted to.” I truly was. Despite the occasional abandonment issues that still crept up in my life from being barely a teenager and having my mother pack up our house, drop us off at my Dad’s and hop a flight to London because she was hired to be a UK based photojournalist for the Associated Press. These days she no longer worked full-time. She’d ended up back in the US for a while, decided she needed a home base and picked one so close to my sister that the distance between them wasn’t even as big as the property my house was on. She wanted to be close to us again, which was great. She’d embraced the role of grandma or Nonni as she preferred to be called. She was still traveling, still taking photos but these days they were seen more in fancy art galleries than on the cover of a newspaper. She loved love in a way few people I knew did. She was always either in a relationship or waiting for the next great love of her life. I envied the way she so openly gave her heart to people, an ability that I didn’t have because of how often my heart had been stuck in a blender by the people I’d chosen to give it to.

“Is that her work?” Jeremy gestured to the walls of the studio where there were several photos that were fairly large and framed around the room. Most were artsy shots, all of me or a few of Sam that I had put up on the walls, all with an instrument or something music related like a record or sheet music. Some of my favorites were of me in the midst of playing without even noticing she’d taken the photo. My signature checkered Vans on my pedal board with an electric guitar in my hand. My hands on the keys of a piano. The silhouette of me and my guitar in front of a sunset. Sam goofing around on Michael’s drum kit. Sam in a record store hiding behind a Fleetwood Mac record. The two of us sitting on the beach playing ukuleles on this old blanket my Mom had that she always kept in the back of her car when I was a kid, just in case we needed a picnic. There were so many more, it just felt weird to surround myself with photos of me. I put them up because for some reason it made me feel a little different about my relationship with my Mom. She showed her love through her art. Over the years she’d taught me what she could. I was a decent photographer, basically meant I had a really artsy instagram and some great photos of my friends and kids.

“They are beautiful photos. Personal favorite is the black and white of you in the leather jacket. ‘The Rebel Girl Within Me Will Never Die’ I love it.”

“Thanks. That’s from my last visit trip with my Mom to London. We were walking through the city at night after she’d taken me to some club she loved hanging out at when she lived there. That trip was only a couple of weeks before Axel was born. The rebel girl is still in me somewhere but she doesn’t do much anymore.” Both Tony and Jeremy laugh at that.

We continued to goof off on guitars, pianos, drums, and everything else we could get our hands on in my studio which was a lot. Hell, I had enough kazoos in the studio that we could have an entire kazoo orchestra if we wanted to. Within a few hours, we sounded like we could play a local dive bar on a Friday night and not sound horribly. It was nice to play music again and not alone. To have an excuse to go nuts on a guitar and relax into a solo instead of focusing on music for a scene. It made me miss being in college and being surrounded by other music students who were always down for a jam session. Or living in LA when I could wander into Dhani’s studio on a Tuesday and play. A guitar in my hands was a form of therapy for me and the project I was working on was very heavily piano. I felt the best I had in weeks.

We eventually emerged from the dungeon that was my studio to cook some pasta and have dinner. It was the perfect end to a great day. We had three kids covered in marinara sauce and four adults full enough that multiple asked to be wheeled to bed. Tony volunteered to clean Axel up and get him changed into his pajamas while Savannah went to Ellery’s room with the girls to get everything of Ava’s packed up. I went outside onto the front porch with Jeremy. Within a few seconds, he lit a cigarette and started to walk down the stairs, over the bridge that ran over the creek that went through the property and towards the driveway.

“Today was great. You are almost as great of a cook as you are a guitar player.” I laughed. “Okay you’re probably tied in both but honestly, you’re an incredible musician. I guess I imagined a composer for film and television scores to be different.”

“Different how?” I asked as I reached for the cigarette in his hand, stole it and took a drag.

“I didn’t imagine that a composer could play a guitar and sound like they’d been sprinkled with magic fairy dust by the greatest guitar gods.”

“I wish I was sprinkled by magic fairy dust. Wait, I was. Last week. Ellie threw glitter at me and told me to think happy thoughts and I’d be able to fly.” I took another drag of the cigarette before handing it back to Jeremy.

“I didn’t realize you smoked,” he said.

“I don’t and I didn’t realize you did either.” He laughed at me. “I quit smoking a really long time ago. Okay, I quit smoking cigarettes a long time ago. I’ve snuck a few cigarettes over the last year and there’s maybe been a time or two when I shut off the ‘Mom Brain’ I’ve developed let Savannah take care of the babies and sat in my bathtub and smoked some pot. Stress is a bitch.”

“Yeah, it is. You truly are amazing,” he said. He handed the cigarette back to me, his fingers brushing lightly against mine. It was like an electric shock went through my body. I looked up and into his eyes as I took a drag off of the cigarette. When he smiled it showed in his eyes, which were already beautiful enough that I had lost track of what was happening looking at them a few times today. “Today was great. Thank you for having Ava here last night, letting me play with all of your instruments today, and making the most amazing dinner. I’m going to dream of meatballs tonight.”

Well, at least it’s not like last night when I dreamt about you.

I’d never been so glad that I resisted the third glass of wine so that I could retain that thought inside my head instead of blurting it out loud. A strand of my hair fell from my messy bun and into my face. He reached up and tucked it behind my ear before his thumb brushed against my cheek. I was fairly certain every single millimeter of my skin was instantly covered in goosebumps. And almost exactly like the dream I had last night, my stomach had made its way to my throat.

“I’m glad you liked it. And thank you for today, too.”

“No need to thank me. All I did was play your guitars, eat your food, and drink your wine.”

“I haven’t had this much life in this house in a long time. There’s often people here but the energy today was so happy and full of everything I’ve missed for the last year. I haven’t been able to play with other musicians in nearly a year. I haven’t clicked with another musician like this since Sam. You helped me feel alive today and not like the walls were closing in. There’s honestly not enough thanks in the world for allowing me to feel that way. To get lost in a guitar riff and just have fun rather than feeling like there’s a gun pointed at my head to write music. Today was the best day I’ve had in a long time.”

“I’m glad I could help with that. Honestly, I’m happy to hang out and play music with you whenever. In fact, I’m happy to just hang out with you whenever.” I felt the blush creep into my cheeks and was so glad it was dark outside. “We should do dinner this week.”

“That would be nice. I’m sure I could whip something up for all of us again.”

“No, not everyone. Just us for dinner. You and me. Like I pick you up and take you out for dinner and a couple of drinks one night this week.”

“That might be nice.” My brain was arguing with itself at that answer. Going to dinner with just him. Possibly having an adult I could spend time with. A chance to be the 36-year-old single woman that I truly am and not the Makeshift Mother I became a year ago in an instant. The idea of maybe at some point going on a date and hopefully, it was before Axel turned 18 and abandoned me for college. The other side of my brain was reminding me that I was a Makeshift Mother. I needed to put these kids first. I needed to not worry about my love life, or more accurately my lack of a love life. I didn’t need to think about the way his laugh sounded and his smile looked. More than anything in this world I needed a friend who understood what I was going through that was physically here, not just someone to call in when they could.

In truth, I deserved a night out and if the only thing that came of it was another friend I was all for it. If at some point in the future of my life there was someone of importance that fulfilled a romantic need in my life that would be great. But I needed to have a life to get there. I needed to let myself move on and allow myself to feel and live. I had essentially allowed myself to stop living when I lost Sam and Michael. It was the worst thing I could’ve done. The thing she would’ve been angriest at me for. I was doing absolutely everything I could for her kids but not for myself and it would’ve made her incredibly disappointing. It was time to live again, for her, for the babies, and most importantly for me.

“Actually, I would really like that.”

****** AUTHOR'S NOTE *****

First things first, I am so sorry this update took so long. I have a few chronic health conditions that flared up recently. After a 10 day course of antibiotics and a lot of rest, I am back on the mend and was able to finish this.

It's my longest chapter to date for this book coming in at 8,002 words. The last thing I wrote my chapters somehow all ended up at 12,000 words which is really difficult to keep up with and made updates have longer gaps between them, so I hope I figure out how to not be so long-winded in chapters.

Now about the chapter. Reading back through it there is a lot that happens even though it's only in the span of a day. Charlie's subconscious is starting to tell her that there is something special about Jeremy. That dream *WOO* what could have happened if that phone call didn't happen.

I want to make Charlie seem relatable even though she's probably the furthest thing from me ever. I base my characters in reality and often have a few things in common with them. One of the things we have in common is that we are Italian, though she's full-blooded and Ancestry's DNA test crushed my soul reminding me I'm only 24% Italian. Her parents are divorced, Dad's remarried and Mom is an artist. My parents divorced when I was 7, Dad remarried when I was 10, I have a brother named Tony but he's older and not a half brother (it's a common Italian name so I ran with it - it's also my grandfather's name). Oh and my mother is an artist, though she prefers acrylic paints at this stage of life, when she was an art student she studied photography and has a brilliant eye, she just hasn't figured out how to work my DSLR. I also have a cat named George who is named after George Harrison, my house has 3 cats and a dog, all rescues because rescued is my favorite breed. I have a red Squire Stratocaster (Fender is out of my price range) but I haven't been able to play it since I was 21 when I took lessons in college), I have my grandma's old out of tune piano, and a keyboard that the only song I can play on it is the theme from The Godfather. I sing along with every song on the radio because my brain uselessly stores song lyrics but I haven't attempted to sing in any formal way in almost 20 years when I was done with high school choir.

Charlie, however, grew up with a privileged life I didn't know. My Dad was a teacher at a community college and my mother worked in the events industry in everything from a massive arena to higher education in the years of my life that she worked. Until I started school she worked from home so I was lucky to never experience daycare or nannies because I had my Mom around. My first car was a Pontiac Grand Am, not a Jeep though I tried really hard to convince my Dad I NEEDED a Jeep, he didn't buy it. But he did eventually buy one or two for himself and refuse to let me drive them.

While Charlie grew up with everything that money could buy her life was far from perfect and she worked hard to earn her piece of the pie. She didn't want a handout though I'm sure somewhere there is a nice trust fund in case she ever did try to run away to Italy. She struggled to embrace the status in a way that the rest of her family didn't. She wanted to have a say in her life so she didn't live like her Dad always dreaming of being Bob Dylan, she gets to be whatever she wants. I also realize that making her friends with a Beatles' kid is a bit weird but Dhani Harrison is actually an incredible musician who is also a composer. I wanted her to have a contemporary that she could still rely on for advice in her career that also allowed her to have fun and act like a kid. I love Dhani almost as much as I love his Dad so he seemed like a fun fit for me though perhaps random for the story context.

I don't have kids and will not be having them, there are multiple reasons that play into that most being health-related and also the fact that being an aunt is the only title I want for a kid. I am actually SUPER open about it so if you're curious, ask. I don't hide it even though society judges me a lot for it. So I can understand a bit of Charlie's internal struggle that she's a Makeshift Mom and doesn't feel like a real Mom especially when you add that children were never in her plan for life. She had struggles with her own Mom when she was younger that would honestly make anyone leery about taking on that role themselves. And then she was thrown this curveball and she's stopped allowing herself to be herself really. She thinks she needs to fit the mold of Mom and she is starting to rediscover herself as the year anniversary of Sam and Michael's death approaches. Being willing to open herself up to people and maybe *hopefully* open her heart to someone at some point.

I really hope you enjoyed this chapter. I'd LOVE to hear from you. Feel free to comment, message me, whatever. I'm an open book, love feedback, and just meeting new people. Thank you so much for reading this. It means the world to me.

Now it's time to turn on some music (currently it's Eric Clapton Essentials on Apple Music because the chapter inspired me), wind down for the day (I was up at 7 AM to pre-order my new iPhone - I work for myself so 7 AM is not a time I see often), and probably start working on the idea for the next chapter. I have two ideas I can't decide between. Hmmmm, Wonderful Tonight just came on. That might help lead me a direction. ;)

xx. Annie

[belphegor1982]

The Many Merry Majorly Mangled Demises of Major Wolfgang Hochstetter

Second and final chapter :o) (part 1 here) (the story on FFnet)

Chapter Two: Bad Decisions, Bad Lawyers, and Ballerinas

The other stories were longer, giving the men – and Hogan – things to do with their time for a week more. Which was a relief with the unholy combination of Major Hochstetter and execrable weather keeping all the prisoners in their barracks. They were used to living in each other’s pocket, but spending every minute of every day in a cramped space with no real possibility to go outside, play a sport that provided an excuse to run, or even just see the sky without standing at attention – that was hard, bordering on unbearable.

Thankfully, they not only had new reading material, which was rare enough, but a personal choice to make. Several men surreptitiously reread stories in order to be certain to cast their only vote in the right place. As a result, cabin fever didn’t sink in as much as it might have.

The list of stories (represented by numbers) pinned on the wall in Hogan’s office steadily acquired crosses. It also acquired another ‘M’ at some point, sandwiched between two at the top of the paper, making the title a mysterious ‘TMMMMDMWH’. Hogan pondered over the change in the acronym for their literary endeavour until Carter admitted to adding the extra letter.

“I thought, since Hochstetter’s a major and it’s about making sure he gets it in every kind of way possible, ‘The Many Merry Majorly Mangled Demises of Major Wolfgang Hochstetter’ would be… I dunno. Fitting? ‘Cause I really think he’s gonna get majorly mangled. That’s kind of the point, right?”

“Absolutely,” said Hogan, not certain whether ‘majorly’ was orthodox grammar but completely willing to overlook it as long as his men were happy. “That’s exactly the point, Carter. Nice touch.”

Carter smiled his lopsided grin, the one Hogan had come to associate with particularly successful explosions; it suddenly made him recall an especially messy Hochstetter death involving grenades, fireworks, and a cannon.

No need to wonder who the author was. It had been a long time since their resident mad bomber had something to blow up.

****

At long last, after one week, everybody had put a cross next to the story he preferred and the time came to compile the results and reveal the winners. The men gathered around the table and on the adjacent beds, looking eagerly at Hogan and the paper in his hands. He didn’t remember being the centre of such attention from that many men since the last time he had told them the Red Cross delivery truck would arrive on time for once.

“Right,” he began. “Here are the results of the ‘Many Merry Majorly Mangled Demises of Major Wolfgang Hochstetter’ contest.”

“‘Majorly mangled’, huh?” said Newkirk. “I like the sound of that. Couldn’t happen to a nicer bloke.”

“Shh, I want to know the results!”

“Yeah, who won the gold?”

Hogan gave them a look, and Newkirk, Davies and Carter fell silent. “I figured I’d go with bronze first, then silver, then gold. So the bronze goes to…”

There were a few sharp intakes of breath. Hogan suppressed a smile and said, “Story number 6. That’s the one with the woodchipper. Who wrote it?”

Olsen raised his hand amidst grins and chuckles with a broad smile.

“Congratulations, Olsen.” Hogan grinned as he handed him the story. “Care to do the honours?”

Olsen took the paper, glanced around at everyone, and read.

****

Have you ever been chased by a pack of dogs? Not much fun, right? Well, that’s why Major Hochstetter was running so fast that night. He’d already left a boot and half a pant leg in the jaws of one of the dogs and he had no intention of giving them more than that.

A raid against the Underground had gone bad. Don’t ask me how, those Gestapo guys aren’t the talkative type, and it’s very unlikely that they’d talk to me (they prefer to ask the questions, anyhow). So one of the Underground people kept a dozen dogs, probably for hunting, and he set them loose on the black uniforms before high-tailing it.

The Gestapo scattered, and for some reason, all the dogs decided to hunt them some major, and believe me, they weren’t looking to play fetch. Not that Hochstetter had the time to stop to pick up a stick, too (or his gun, wherever he had dropped it). No, he ran for his life, like he had never run before. You always run faster if there’s something chasing you, anyway. He ran, he ran, and when he couldn’t run anymore, he ran some more. Behind him, the dogs were howling, as though they sensed their prey was tiring and they would close in on it soon enough.

Salvation came with the walls of a park and a trash can; he jumped on one to climb the other. Now laugh all you want; I know Hochstetter’s no athlete, but in those kinds of circumstances anyone can do acrobatics like that. He did huff and puff like the wolf from the fairy tale, though.

The dogs were still howling, and they tried to snap at his feet, but Hochstetter was out of their reach. He stood on the stone wall, straightened his jacket and sneered at the dogs.

And then he slipped and fell off the wall.

The good news was, this was the dog-free side. The bad news, well… He fell right into a woodchipper. Woodchippers are not exactly supposed to chip people, so what followed was ugly, noisy, and messy, and made the dogs run away whimpering.

The next morning, the gardener found a finger. He sent it to the police, on the grounds that it didn’t belong to him and its owner might miss it; but nobody ever claimed it.

****

The final sentence was punctuated by applause and snickers with a few mock winces thrown in. Floyd clapped Olsen on the back, laughing, while Kinch smiled in appreciation.

“You sure didn’t do things by half, did you?” said Saunders approvingly. “A bloody woodchipper. That’s just nasty.”

“You can talk,” Olsen retorted. “I know you wrote the one where Hochstetter goes to Australia and gets bitten, stung, poisoned, and eaten. Sounds like you made up half the critters in that story.”

Saunders’ expression was undeniably proud. “What can I say, Oz puts the ‘wild’ in ‘wildlife’.”

“Yeah? Well, I’ll take my pack of dogs over your drop bears any day. And those are about the only animals that make sense.”

“Funny you should say that, because—”

“Guys,” interrupted Kinch, “later, okay? I want to know who won.”

Hogan shook his head, and announced, “The silver medal – if we had one – goes to story number 12. Who wrote ‘Hochstetter’s Trial Tribulations’?”

Baker unfolded from his chair with a smile. People clapped his back and applauded as he made his way to the head of the table.

“Nice job,” said Hogan with feeling. He handed the corresponding roll of paper to Baker, who cleared his throat and began to read.

****

They kicked in his door at three in the morning. In retrospect, Major Hochstetter should have considered this a very bad sign.

“This is ridiculous!” he bellowed when Gestapo invaded his apartment, throwing clothes and books everywhere. Then he spotted Kluglicht, his assistant, and roared, “Kluglicht! What are these men doing here?”

Kluglicht, despite his name, was not the brightest bulb in the box, which was why Hochstetter had hired him in the first place: he was too dumb to question orders. He saluted his superior and stared at him blankly for half a minute.

Then a captain stopped in front of Hochstetter’s bed and clicked his heels.

“Major Hochstetter, you are hereby charged with treason and conspiracy to assassinate the Führer. Please follow us.” He paused and sniffed. “Once you’re decent.”

Obviously, dragging a Gestapo major clad in black and white death-heads pyjamas to headquarters was not done, even if he was a suspect.

Hochstetter was so shocked he didn’t even protest. At first.

They kept him locked up for three months, or maybe two weeks. It was hard to tell, without a window. The first few days, Hochstetter heaped invectives upon invectives on his invisible jailers; then he tried to shout he was innocent, and had absolutely no part in any conspiracy against Hitler, and so on. Then he ended up pleading and begging for someone to talk to him. (It has to be said that the first time he resorted to this, he whispered so that the fewer possible people heard him, which, you must admit, kind of defeated the purpose.)

The only visit he eventually got was Kluglicht, who brought him a stale cake with a broken nail file in it.

“Sorry, Herr Major, I had to use my brother-in-law’s oven and I think the nail file broke during the baking…”

“Never mind your brother-in-law, Kluglicht,” Hochstetter snarled, happy to finally have someone to yell at. “How long have I been here for?”

“I don’t know, Herr Major, what time is it?”

“Dummkopf! Give me the date!”

Kluglicht stared at him blankly, then appeared to think. A minute later he slowly nodded.

“It’s the… 6th. Of March. Right. Because last week we were in February and now we’re in March.”

Only a few days had passed since the arrest. Hochstetter stared at him.

“Oh, and they told me to tell you that your trial begins tomorrow.”

“Splendid,” growled Major Hochstetter. “I suppose I don’t get a lawyer, do I?”

“Yes you do, Herr Major.”

“Really!?”

“I volunteered, Herr Major.”

Hochstetter sat back and stared at the wall.

“They really want me dead.”

The trial was ugly, even for Nazi Germany, where ‘trial’ is a word that makes bad people smirk and good people shake their heads. At some point during the accusation, Kluglicht lost his footing completely and yelled, “That – that ain’t true!”, at which point the prosecution roared with laughter and Hochstetter pounced on his assistant-turned-lawyer and started to throttle him. They pulled him off Kluglicht with great difficulty and attempted murder was added to the treason charges.

In the end, when he was declared guilty, Hochstetter was almost resigned to his fate. He baulked when the guards took him back to his cell and handed him a gun, though.

“What on earth am I supposed to do with this, you idiot? Shoot you and escape so you can shoot me in the back?” That was his personal experience talking. “I bet it’s not even loaded.”

“Herr Major, there is one bullet in the gun.”

Ah. That sort of escape, then.

Wolfgang Hochstetter drew a breath, cocked the gun, and shot.

He missed and took out an ear instead.

They hanged him the next day.

****

Cheers, two-tone whistling, and applause broke out after the last sentence.

“Nice one! Not very original, as deaths go, but points for style,” Newkirk called out.

“Yeah, I didn’t know you could write like that, Baker!” exclaimed Carter admiringly. Baker acknowledged the compliments with a nod and a smile, his face flushed, looking somewhat self-conscious but pleased. Hogan waited until he was back between Saunders and Addison and the noise had died down to take up the list again.

“And now, the winner of the ‘Many Merry Majorly Mangled Demises of Major Wolfgang Hochstetter’ contest – the story that got the gold. And the prize goes to—”

He was going to draw out the suspense a little bit, but was interrupted by the door opening, letting in an icy wind and a puzzled Sergeant of the Guard.

“What are you all doing?”

“Giving out Academy Awards, Schultz,” replied Hogan easily.

“What Academy?”

“Well, the Barracks Two Academy of Arts and Letters, of course. We just had a little contest and we were just about to announce who won the gold medal.”

“But you barged in before the Colonel could tell us,” said Carter in a tone that almost managed to be reproachful. “Boy, that’s rude.”

Schultz ignored Carter and peered at the paper in Hogan’s hands in a way he probably thought of as shrewd.

“A gold medal? And where did you get that, hmm?”

LeBeau rolled his eyes. “It’s a figure of speech, Schultz. It just means the story that won the contest.”

Schultz’s eyes jumped from the paper, to LeBeau, and back to Hogan. “What contest.” It hardly even sounded like an actual question.

Hogan crossed his arms and looked him in the eye. “Since the recreation hall is still closed and the Escape Committee put off escape attempts due to bad weather, we had to make our own entertainment. So we wrote a few short stories and had a little contest. What are you doing here?”

“Escape Committee. Jolly joker.” Schultz rubbed his hands then blew into his fingers before continuing. “I came here for a surprise check.”

Ah, yes. Another display of Hochstetter’s ‘ring of steel’ – surprise roll calls, random bed checks, and more or less regular head counts. The guards (Schultz in particular, since he was their own appointed barracks guard) were especially peeved about it, as it meant that not only did they have to make their rounds all day in the cold, with no possibility to take a five-minute break on a bench or take refuge in the barracks on a pretence of a chat, but all their furloughs had been cancelled. The current animosity rising against Major Hochstetter did not come from the prisoners only.

Hogan and his team had nothing going on, no reason to be down in the tunnel, not a single man missing – just as things had been for weeks. There was absolutely no reason to send Schultz on his way or distract him from counting the prisoners. Plus, just the look on his face when he realised what the overall theme of the contest had been had to have some entertainment value.

“Okay, Schultz, count all you like, we’re all here. Just let me tell the guys whose story won, and then the author can read it aloud. You can even listen to it, if you behave.”

There was a hopeful tint to Schultz’s frown.

“No monkey business?”

“None whatsoever. Just reading.”

Schultz nodded, still looking unsure. Hogan reported his attention to his list.

“And the winner of the ‘Many Merry Majorly Mangled Demises of Major Wolfgang Hochstetter’ contest is –” he ignored Schultz’s startled squeak, always surprising coming from such a large man “– ‘Hochstetter and the Junior Ballerina Corps of Bad Wiedenburg’!”

Amidst the laughter and the applause, Schultz had gone pale, round blue eyes popping out. The thought occurred to Hogan than he might have made a fine silent comedy actor, once upon a time.

“What—what—what—”

“It’s the title, Schultz, try to keep up.”

“So,” said Olsen with a laugh, “who’s the guy who put Hochstetter in a tutu? Gee, thanks for the mental image. I’ll have nightmares all night.”

Hogan went to look at the rolls of paper in the basket and picked the right one. The writing was small, slanted, and a little cramped as the writer reached the end of the page. None of the stories had been signed, but somehow, it wasn’t hard to figure out who the author had been. He had to ask, however, and did with a grin. “So who’s the author of this fine piece of literature?”

Newkirk stood up with lazy grace and gave a mock bow. The twinkle in his eyes suggested he was much happier with the results than he let himself show. Hogan swapped places with him as he picked his story, unfurled it from its roll and began to read.

“Once upon a time…”

“Oh, it’s a fairy tale?” Schultz seemed to have gotten over his initial shock and was looking around hesitatingly. “It’s harmless then. Right?”

“I dunno, Schultzie,” said Newkirk. “Is it treason to listen to a story about the death of a Gestapo major? ‘Cause that’s what this is all about.”

Hogan started counting down to the moment Schultz would hear nothing, know nothing, and hightail it out of the barracks. Five… Four… Three…

To his surprise, when Schultz came to a decision, he didn’t go to the door; instead, he sat down on Carter’s bunk and laid his rifle on his knees with an expression not unlike a cat waiting for cream.

“I know I usually see nothing, hear nothing, and know nothing, but this I think I want to hear,” he said with a wink, as though sharing something that was part big secret and part highly amusing joke. A few chuckles and snickers answered him, and Newkirk went back to his paper with a grin.

****

Once upon a time, there was a Gestapo major who was a paranoid bastard.

All Gestapo majors are paranoid bastards if you ask me, but this one was special. He wanted to do everything himself in case some nasty old Underground members got him by surprise. He cooked his own food (badly), typed his reports (took him hours), and – especially – spent his days nosing around, watching people go about their lives. If he could have got himself to watch himself, he would have done it. That’s how paranoid he was, ladies and gents (but mostly gents, unfortunately).

One day, Major Hochstetter (for such was the name of our quirky paranoid Gestapo major) got a tip that an Underground member might be hiding amidst the Junior Ballerina Corps of Bad Wiedenburg.

The Junior Ballerina Corps of Bad Wiedenburg have twenty-six girls, all between the ages of nineteen and twenty-two and a half, who are trained scrappers. They can use their feet in about forty-seven ways that no other girl between nineteen and twenty-two and a half can or should. One ballerina doing the grand jeté is able to break the noses of twelve men in twenty seconds.

Yes, they are a fearsome lot. What else do you expect from Nazis, mate?

Now, our esteemed major was in a major quandary, so to speak – but not for long.

He decided that someone should infiltrate the Junior Ballerina Corps of Bad Wiedenburg to find the mysterious Underground member.

And since he was such a paranoid bastard, he couldn’t trust anyone but himself for the task.

He had to clear with his superiors the fact that the Junior Ballerina Corps of Bad Wiedenburg would now count a member who was not, in fact, a girl between nineteen and twenty-two and a half, and was stockier and rather more hairy than the norm. His superiors thought he was a loony, so they waved him off and concentrated on something more serious, like stopping the eighty-three attempts to kill Hitler.

Major Hochstetter had trouble in the beginning, as you might guess. He only knew how to break people’s noses by punching them, or slamming them into walls; but this was ballet. You have to be graceful to do ballet dancing, even when you’re twisting a man’s arms behind his back and karate-chopping him into oblivion. Hochstetter had about as much grace as a rhinoceros stuck in a mud hole.

No, he did not break anyone’s nose with his feet, even on purpose. It takes skills and muscles he didn’t have.

But he was coming along nicely. The girls were starting to talk about letting him perform with them for the Heidelbergestburg Winterfest. He even had a lead or two as to the identity of his victim—er, suspect.

Every year, the Opera of Heidelbergestburg organised a special performance on the Heidelbergestburg Lake. It’s east of Berlin and very cold, so each winter the lake freezes over so much that a whole Panzer division can cross it on their way east (not that they do, they’re usually seen running the other way).

Hochstetter thought it the perfect time to unmask his suspect.

The upper crust sat in chairs carved in ice – because it was so chic – and applauded when the Junior Ballerina Corps of Bad Wiedenburg (plus one) skated their way gracefully (minus one) to the middle of the frozen lake. A band was playing The Blue Danube (the girls had insisted).

Hochstetter had never been on ice skates before, but he made a valiant effort. He could barely refrain from grinning, like the cat who watches the canary, knowing it will catch the bird as soon as it gets out from its cage. Between two pas de chat and just before the sauté, he caught up from the girl he suspected and whispered nastily, “I’m on to you, Fräulein.”

He really couldn’t wait for the moment when he’d arrest her, you see.

The girl only smiled and did a pirouette. Hochstetter went on with his sauté.

The finale involved him doing an arabesque while the girls formed a circle around him, but there was one problem. They did not stop at one circle.

In fact, they continued to circle him, faster and faster, until he just couldn’t move for fear of getting his face ice skated.

The leader detached herself from the group somehow, and smiled. It should have been a pretty smile, because she was such a pretty girl, but it sent shivers down Hochstetter’s spine.

She said, “You came here to find an Underground member, didn’t you, Major?”

He was scared and furious, but he nodded.

“Congratulations. You’ve found twenty-six.”

She took up her place in the circle before he had time to think of something clever to say.

When the ice broke, they all skated back, and watched him sink into the icy waters. They laughed when he cursed them, blew him kisses when he threatened them, and smiled the same smile as the cold took him and he finally went under.

There were a few bubbles, and that was it.

When his superiors heard of his death, they shrugged it off and went back to the plots against Hitler. One loony to deal with was enough.

****

“That was nice,” said Kinch after Newkirk punctuated his story with a resounding “The end”. Like the others, he was grinning from ear to ear. “Inventive.”

“Oh, Newkirk, that was wicked,” Schultz chimed in severely. The reproach in his tone quickly gave way to a smile and a twinkle in his eye. “But not bad.”

Hogan himself had enjoyed every word as well as Newkirk’s lively performance as a storyteller, and he applauded with the rest. “You really liked the idea of drowning Hochstetter, didn’t you, Newkirk?”

Newkirk’s grin would have put the proverbial cat to shame and given the proverbial canary a heart attack.

“Actually, sir, I reckon he froze to death before he drowned. But I really liked the tutu. And it’s not like he’s never danced before, is it?”

He looked pointedly at LeBeau, whose answer was a fierce glower and a muttered, “Oh, very funny. You know he almost broke my feet? I couldn’t walk normally for a week after those ‘dance lessons’1.”

“Il casse les pieds à tout le monde2,” Kinch pointed out. “Why should you be any different?”

The expression on LeBeau’s face was beautiful; there had to be a pun in Kinch’s words, Hogan thought, because it was halfway between outrage and absolute delight. If Schultz’s expression was anything to go by, he was just as confused as Hogan was – the difference being, he quickly shrugged it off, used as he was by now to not understanding the finer points of foreign languages, English or French.

“Colonel Hogan,” he said confidentially – in a stage whisper, that is, “I know I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but Kommandant Klink received a phone call from Colonel Hertel two hours ago.”

“You don’t say?” said Hogan, keeping his tone light and mildly interested. Hertel was Hochstetter’s new superior, which was why he had given the go-ahead on the ‘ring of steel’ – most of the Gestapo hierarchy didn’t hide their impatience (or their disdain) of Hochstetter’s well-known Stalag XIII fixation.

“Misses his radio-detection truck, does he?” asked Newkirk. “Always knew these Gestapo blokes were the sentimental type, deep down.”

“Well – kind of. He said that since Major Hochstetter found nothing, he had a better use for the men and the equipment stationed at Stalag XIII. They leave tomorrow.”

The cheer that went up in the barracks might have been a little quieter than the receptions the winning stories had gotten, just in case, but there was a sudden definite lift in moods among the men. Hogan himself couldn’t help a smile as hope rose in his chest, like the warmth of a cup of good coffee. They would be back in business soon.

“Thanks for the heads-up,” he said to a Schultz who looked torn between fretting over the prospect of more monkey business and resigned to its (probable) inevitability. “Hey, you know what? Next time Hochstetter gets to police the camp, you’re welcome to our little writing contest. I’m curious to see what you’ll come up with.”

Schultz’s face fell. He all but fled to the door of the barracks.

“Colonel Hogan, I can listen to a story, because you were reading it and I was just there. Sometimes I don’t hear nothing. But participating? I won’t be able to say that I know nothing!”

The last word was guessed more than heard, since it was half muffled by the door closing as Schultz made a hasty tactical retreat. The news he had brought remained in the air, like a promise of better things to come.

Major Hochstetter would most likely not come to an ignominious end via frozen lake and Underground ballerinas, by shooting himself in the ear, or mauled by a pack of dogs. But Hogan swore to see to it that he would not evade judgement later, when the time came.

In the meantime, they finally had their whole range of weapons back – including, not the least, words.

THE END

Whoo-hoo! I’ve had that one in my WIPs since April 2013 – wrote pretty much the first chapter and the three contributions, then got stuck. Hope more stories will unstick like that!

Notes/Translations:

1 LeBeau having to give ‘dance lessons’ to Hochstetter is from “Six Lessons from Madame Lagrange”, in the 5th season. After rewatching though, I came to the unfortunate conclusion that Hochstetter is not shown stepping on LeBeau’s feet. Oops. (We’ll just say there’s an ellipse, won’t we.)

2Il casse les pieds à tout le monde: Taken literally, “he breaks everybody’s feet”, but it’s a figure of speech meaning “He gets on everybody’s nerves/He drives everyone up the wall”.

Thank you for reading! :o)

[petitrenard]

93 XRT

It was 2:35 a.m. & Birdie was smoking a joint on her bed. The third floor walk up apartment on Kenmore Avenue was sweltering, even with the windows open. Temperatures had been near 100 for the fourth day in a row and the power grid finaly said fuck it about 10 minutes ago. Chicago settled in for a city wide blackout with Birdie well prepared to smoke it out.

Her mom had given her an old radio for weather emergencies. Her dad had given her a bottle of High West double rye for the exact same reason. She felt sure this qualified as a weather emergency and poured herself a drink while she dialed in 93 XRT.

The blackout didn’t bother Birdie. She really loved nights like this - dark, quiet and bathed in moonlight - like she existed in a world made only for her. These nights where secrets exist in the open for those brave enough to share. She was many things in life, but at heart she was an indulgent creature and her greatest indulgence was pleasure. Mellow weed, good whiskey and a long, intense masturbation session, those were her plans to get through.

She found XRT - their backup generators kept them going - and Emma Mac was at the wheel. “It’s a bit of a night out there Chicago and we’re gonna ride this weird wave together. I’m gonna do something we don’t get to do too often on XRT, but it’s 2:35 a.m., the city is dark and I’m in the booth.” And with that, the crackle of vinyl popped over the radio and the first few sounds of Pink Floyd’s “Dark Side of the Moon” started. Fuck yes.

Birdie lit some candles, pulled out her vintage Playboy collection and perched herself at the head of her bed straddling her body pillow. Ever since she was a teenager, she was able to make herself cum by rubbing her thighs together and pressing her belly into a pillow. Tonight, she needed to cum.

She reached over to open her windows even more and she saw her new neighbor walking into the courtyard. While she didn’t say anything, the smell of the joint must’ve hit him and he raised his head and looked directly at her open window. He made eye contact and nodded. Birdie returned the favor and then slunk a little lower in her bed.

She didn’t know much about him except that he was a musician/ bartender and moved in with his girlfriend about two weeks ago. Whatever his story was, he was cute, but she definitely wasn’t into musicians. One top 10 song about her was enough.

Suddenly she heard her name coming from the courtyard...sort of quietly. “Birdie. Hey, Birdie.” It was the new neighbor. “Hey Birdie. We haven’t met officially, I’m Jay. I’m your new neighbor.”

“What’s up Jay.” she said as a matter of fact rather than actual question.

“Um...I was wondering if you might be able to come down here and let me in to the building? I didn’t bring my keys to work tonight because I use the code to get in - but I guess the buzzer isn’t working because of the power outage.”

Birdie was feeling herself - in that she was beginning to feel the pleasant effects of good whiskey, good weed and good erotica - so she responded a little more snarky than she intended. “I’m sorry I can’t walk downstairs. I’m in my pajamas. Why don’t you call your old lady to let you in?”

“My old lady? You mean Emma?”

“Yeah, why don’t you call Emma?”

“Well, first off, Emma’s not my old lady, she’s my sister. Second, she’s in Wisconsin this weekend camping and third, who the fuck talks like that? Old lady. What are you, some biker momma from a Russ Meyer movie?”

And with that, Birdie liked him. He didn’t take shit, but he wasn’t a dick about it. She popped up from her bed and looked out the window.  “All right, Jay. How about this. How about I drop my keys down to you? Then you can bring them back up to me. Win-win.”

“Sounds good, I’ll wait here.”

“I don’t see as you have much of a choice.” Birdie set down her whiskey on the windowsill got off her bed and walked to her front door to get her keys. She passed through the kitchen and grabbed another glass. It wasn’t even three minutes she was gone when the summer sky opened up. When she walked back to the window, Jay was drenched.

“Oh fuck, Jay!” she giggled, “I’m sorry, I hurried.” She shimmied open the screen and dropped the keys down to Jay. He caught them and quickly opened the door. Birdie poured 3 fingers of whiskey into the second glass and topped off hers as she went to her front door. Jay came bounding up the stairs and went straight to Birdie’s.

Before he could knock, she shoved a drink out as a peace offering for giggling. He took the drink from her hand and before he could give her keys back, the hand had retreated and came back out with a joint. Jay laughed and slowly pushed open the door.

The first thing he noticed was her smile and the second was the stacks of books, canvases and art supplies nestled into every possible spot in the living room. Instantly he smiled “Thanks for throwing down your keys.” Birdie smiled even wider. “You’re welcome. I’m just your every day Chicago hero.”

Jay shook his head, “I didn’t mean to bother you, I’m glad you were up. If it wasn’t for you, I’d be standing out there in the rain instead of about to jump into the shower at my apartment”

“I’m glad I was able to help. Welcome to the building.”

Jay took a sip of his whiskey and not wanting to overstay his welcome, walked out the door to his apartment. “I’ll bring this back tomorrow, if that’s ok.” Birdie nodded yes and watched him as he bent over to grab the spare key under the doormat outside his apartment. It wasn’t there. He muttered under his breath and turned back sheepishly to Birdie. “It seems that the spare key isn’t under there.”

Birdie didn’t say anything, she just opened up her front door and stood aside. “Do you want to stay here tonight? You can take a shower. I’m not a perv so I won’t try and watch or anything.” Jay couldn’t help it and he started to laugh. “Thanks for letting me know, I was worried. Yeah, I’d love to spend the night and take a shower.”

She was delighted for the company. The thought of masturbating in her bed while Jay lay just on the other side of the wall made her heart beat a little faster. Hm, maybe she was a perv. “Let me get you a towel and make up the couch for you.” She went digging in her hall closet.

The wind and rain had picked up a bit and had cooled down the apartment considerably. During a flash of lightning Jay noticed she was wearing a ratty Def Leppard half top and white panties with a small pink bow on the front. Her hair was pulled up into a messy bun, a joint was dangling from her lips and she had white paint specks behind her ear. He tripped over a stack of canvases wedged behind her Chesterfield.

He was busy putting them back in their stack behind her couch when he glanced into her bedroom. It smelled like vanilla and bourbon and was glowing in candlelight. He finished with the canvases and inched closer to the doorway to get a better look.

He saw the whiskey on the windowsill as well as Playboys scattered on the bed. XRT was crackling over the airwaves. “Birdie, what is it you do?”

She was walking back towards him from the hallway. “Well, if I’m honest with myself, right now I’m living off family money while I get my MFA from the Art Institute. But let’s talk about that another day and tonight, let’s call me a multi-media artist.”

“A not pervy, multi-media artist. Got it.”

“The least pervy, most hero multi-media artist.”

She handed him a towel, “Go take a shower and I’ll get your bed ready out here.” He headed into the bedroom towards the bathroom to take his shower.

There were more candles in the bathroom and when he closed the door, the whole room was illuminated. He took off his wet clothes and started a cold shower. Jay only needed a minute and then jumped out and grabbed the towel. He debated putting his clothes back on, but they were soaked and that option was less than appealing. Instead, he draped them across the marble bench in the shower stall and wrapped himself in the towel.

Birdie knocked on the bathroom door. “Hey. My cousin left some basketball shorts here last time he visited. They’re clean if you want to wear them instead of getting back into your wet clothes.” Jay opened the door and Birdie stepped back. He was wrapped in a towel, dripping wet and sipping his whiskey. Fuck. He was super cute when he was half naked.

She was holding a kimono in one hand and the basketball shorts in the other. “What’s with the kimono?” he asked.

“Oh, I didn’t know if you’d think it was weird to wear someone else’s shorts - even if they’d been washed, so I grabbed my silk kimono. You’re probably not weird about wearing a silk kimono. That seems like a pretty specific thing to be weird about.”

He nodded his head in agreement but took the basketball shorts anyway. “I’m not weird about the shorts, thanks.” Instead of going back into the bathroom, he simply slipped them on under his towel - Birdie watched.

Jay noticed his audience and took the opportunity to tease, “As a self proclaimed not pervy hero multi-media artist, I thought you weren’t going to watch.”

Birdie felt a rush of adrenaline go straight through her because she didn’t realize how intently she was watching him. “I said I wouldn’t watch you shower. Everything else is fair game.”

“You like to watch. Good to know.”

Something about the way he said that excited Birdie. She had thought he was cute before, but now she wanted to fuck him. Of course she didn’t say that. She just stood there awkwardly for a moment, until she composed herself and walked to the windowsill to pick up her whiskey glass.

“I made up your bed on the couch. I’m sure you’re tired from a long night at work.” It wasn’t until she turned around that she realized the Playboys were just hanging out right on her bed - for anyone - but specifically for Jay to absolutely see. Birdie instantly decided how she was going to handle this moment and without missing a beat continued, “As you can see, I was just getting into something, so...”

“...so I’ll let you get back to it.” Jay finished her sentence, raised his glass and started walking towards the door. He walked slowly past Birdie and she felt his hard dick brush her thigh. Of course, he was wearing basketball shorts, so she didn’t need to feel it to know he was hard.

He was almost at the door when she said, “I wouldn’t mind some help though.” Jay stopped dead in his tracks.

“Just tell me how.”

Birdie put her hands up her shirt and grabbed her own tits. She began pinching and rubbing her nipples. As Jay was watching her he downed the rest of the whiskey in his glass and reached for his cock. Birdie walked over to him, moved his hand off his cock, grabbed his face and began kissing his lips.

Birdie lifted up her shirt and pressed her soft tits against his chest. Her hands slid under the waistband of the basketball shorts and softly grazed the tops of his thighs and rested there. Jay moaned softly and he ached for her touch. She turned her hands over and lightly ran her nails back up and out of his shorts.

She stepped back from him and noticed a lovely wet spot had formed on his shorts. She got on her knees and gently kissed the outline of his cock. She stood up and led him over to the bed.

Jay wanted to grab her ass as she walked in front of him but stopped himself. When they got to the bed Birdie climbed back into her original position at the head of it took off her shirt and patted the pillow between her legs. Jay climbed to the spot she was patting and sat face to tit with her. It was the perfect view.

She leaned her tits into his face and whispered into his ear, “I’m going rub my wet pussy up and down your cock before you split me open. Would you please take off my panties?”

Jay took his shorts off as Birdie stood on the bed in front of him. Her pussy was right at his face and he leaned forward to take off her panties. They smelled like vanilla and he just wanted to bury his face in her. But he did as she asked and took off her panties. Her bald pussy was glistening with her cum. She gently ran it down his lips on her way to sitting in his lap.

Once she was there, she spread her lips and fingered some of the wetness from her pussy. She proceeded to rub Jay’s cock with her cum covered fingers and then spread her legs wide as she placed her pussy against his cock. She simultaneously rubbed his cock and her clit.

Birdie was close to cumming, but she didn’t want to just yet, so she slowed down. Jay’s cock throbbed when she stopped and he groaned loudly. “I just want to fuck you Birdie.” His hands and mouth reached her tits at the same time and he began squeezing and sucking them.

He was licking and sucking her nipples so hard that Birdie began to cum. She pressed herself against him and Jay felt her pussy spasm. He whispered into her ear, “I’m going to fuck you now.” Then he lifted her slightly and she slid down his cock.

She gasped a little because he was thick and she hadn’t fucked in a while. He gasped because her pussy was still spasming from cumming and he nearly blew his load. Birdie leaned into his ear and said, “Fuck me, just save your cum for my mouth.”

Jay nodded his head and reached between her legs to tug on her clit. It was covered in cum and he took some of it and smeared it on her nipples. Birdie groaned as he started pinching her nipples again while pounding her pussy. 

He got on top of her and put her legs up around her ears. He took long hard strokes deep into her pussy and bent down through her legs to kiss her mouth. She reached her hands to cup his balls and pleaded with him to let her lick his cock. “Please let me lick your cock. I want to thank it for making me cum so hard. Please let me lick your cock. I need it in my mouth.”

Jay’s cock began to throb even harder and he said, “I’m going to have to shove my cock in your mouth to shut you up, aren’t I?” Birdie, smiled, licked her lips and nodded her head yes.

He took a few more hard, deep strokes then pulled his cock out of her pussy and started cumming as he made his way up to her mouth. Birdie moved quickly so she got as much of his cum in her mouth as possible and started hungrily sucking his cock dry.

Once he stopped cumming, he looked down at Birdie who swallowed and smiled at him. He fell down on the bed next to her and she grabbed a pre-rolled joint from a small box next to her bed. She lit it, took a puff and passed it to Jay.

They laid next to each other without talking, listening to the rain and the radio for a while until they fell asleep.

[cp-imaginesx]

It's All a Dream Part 1

*Peter Maximoff (X-Men) x Reader

*Warnings: none (slight smut maybe?)

He ran his hand in her hair as his lips attacked her neck and she moaned slightly. His other hand wrapped around her to keep her close to him. His lips worked their way up to her jaw and found her lips once again. She had her hands wrapped around his neck and his hair, keeping him close to her. Neither wanted to pull apart. They’ve waited too long for this. He deepened the kiss so much it was hard to breathe, but he was desperate for her. She was the only oxygen he needed. He rushed her over to his bed and gently laid her down. He held her firmly at the waist as she continued to play with his hair. She tugged at the bottom of his shirt and he threw it off. He ran his hands up her torso, her shirt coming off in the process, which he threw on the floor behind him. He unbuttoned her jeans and slid them down her waist. He sat up and did the same. He laid back down and started to kiss her again and reached back to unclip her bra and…

Peter woke up abruptly and sighed. It was all a dream. A slightly wet dream perhaps. A beautiful yet agonizing dream which he knew probably wouldn’t come true. He rubbed his eyes looked over at his clock.

8:00am

He decided to get up and get dressed. He slipped on his usual silver jacket over his clothes and his matching NIKE sneakers and sat down on his bed and recounted his dream. He wished, God, he wished that would happen, but he didn’t know if she felt the same way. And to make things worse, it was his best friend. He would tell her how he felt, but the thought of ruining their friendship made him sick to his stomach.

“Peter, are you up?” his mother called.

“Yeah mom.” he replied.

She came upstairs to check on her son.

“Hey honey. You look tired, did you sleep okay?” she asked with a worried expression plastered on her face.

“Yeah mom, I’m fine, just hungry.” Peter lied.

“Okay, well, I’m making pancakes for breakfast, I’ll let you know when they’re done.” she said, placing a kiss on his forehead before leaving.

Peter sat back down and placed his head in his hands, confused. He wanted to rush over to her house, pick her up, and bring her over to his place like he usually did everyday and hang out, but he didn’t know how now. He decided to suck it and go over there. He ran over to her house, opened to door and went up to her room, but she wasn’t there. He went back down and found her standing in the kitchen with her pajamas on, no make up and messy hair. He liked her like this. She always said she looked like a terrible mess in the morning, but he loved it. She just looked so natural, especially with the sunlight falling on her through the window. Suddenly, Peter didn’t feel so anxious and confused anymore. He felt calm and relaxed just looking at her and being in her presence.

“Mornin’ (Y/N).” he said.

“Morning Peter.” she said, yawning. He went up to her and gave her a bear hug, engulfing her in his arms. She wrapped her arm around his torso and rested her head in the crook of his neck. She didn’t want to move. She felt safe in his arms. He was like the perfect pillow and blanket. She could lay on or next to him and he always found a way to be soft enough for her to rest her head on him, and make her feel warm in his arms. They pulled away and he smiled, lookin down at her.

“Hungry?” Peter asked.

“Starving, and my mom didn’t go grocery shopping so we have no food.” she replied, yawning once more.

“My mom’s making pancakes.” he said.

“Pancakes sound nice.” She said.

“Go get dressed and then we can go eat. I’ll go tell my mom to make extra and I’ll be right back.” Peter said.

“Okay, gimme a few minutes.”

“No problem.” he smiled. even though Peter had to do everything fast, he always had the patience for (Y/N). Peter ran back over to his house to find his mother in the kitchen making pancakes.

“Hey mom, make a few extra. (Y/N)’s coming over.”

“Will do Peter.”

Peter smiled and ran back over to her house.

She went upstairs to her bathroom and washed her face and hands. She went in her bedroom and starting getting dressed. After slipping on her tee-shirt, she went over to her dresser and applied mascara, concealer, and chapstick. She put on her shoes, grabbed the varsity jacket she stole from Peter, and slung her bag over her shoulder. She went downstairs to find Peter laying on her couch with his hands tucked behind his head. She walked over and pinched his side, causing him to squeal.

“You ready?” she asked, giggling at his reaction.

“ye- um, yeah, let’s go.” Peter said awkwardly, standing up. He held the door open for her and they walked across the street to his house. Peter knew not to use his speed to rush her over since she was obviously still tired. Plus her hair looked extra nice today and he didn’t want to mess it up. He, once again, held the door open for her and she walked into the kitchen where she greeted Ms. Maximoff.

“Good morning (Y/N). Sleep well?” she asked, placing a kiss on top of (y/n)’s head. (Y/n) was practically the fourth member of the Maximoff family.

“Yeah, those pancakes smell delicious.” she replied, while her and Ms. Maximoff shared a side hug.

“Well, they’ll be ready soon. You and Peter just go chill for a few minutes.”

Before you could even respond, you felt a gust of wind and you were standing in Peter’s basement. He took her bag and placed it on the couch looked through his records, trying to find something to play. She slipped on Peter’s jacket and sat criss-cross on the edge of his bed.

“I can’t find my Pink Floyd record.” He said.

Her eyes scanned the room until they landed on a thin black square, peaking out from under the couch.

“Pancakes are done!” His mother shouted.

“C'mon, lets go eat.” She said, grabbing his arm and dragging him up the stairs behind her.

“But Pink Floyd….” Peter whined, trying to escape your grasp.

“Oh c'mon. You can live for 20 minutes without Pink Floyd.”

Peter whipped his head so fast to look at (y/n), she thought his head was going to fly off his body.

“Clearly… you don’t me.” He said.

She rolled her eyes and continued to drag him along with her. They walked into the kitchen and Peter helped his mother carry the food to the table.

“(Y/N)!” Wanda exclaimed, running into the kitchen. She ran up to (Y/N) and she picked her up in her arms.

“Hey Peanut.” she said and wanda giggled. Wanda loved it when she called her cute nicknames like “Peanut” or “Pumpkin”.

“You wanna sit next to me?” she asked.

“Yeah!” Wanda answered. (Y/N) walked over to the kitchen table and sat down and Wanda, instead of sitting in her own chair, hopped on (Y/N)’s lap and giggled. Peter came and sat down after his mother and they all enjoyed the pancakes.

[rayshieldsofficial]

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 2526 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 5051 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 7576 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100101 102 103 104 105 106 107 108 109 110 111 112 113 114 115 116 117 118 119 120 121 122 123 124 125126 127 128 129 130 131 132 133 134 135 136 137 138 139 140 141 142 143 144 145 146 147 148 149 150

If I can post this first time it’ll be a miracle (also I’ll answer in a read more)

1 - How are you?Not too bad. Pissed off because I’ve been waiting for someone to fix the radiators, but happy because I have a Bowie night tonight!2 - Post a picture of yourself.I’ll reblog a selfie at the end of this because I can’t figure out how to add a picture lmao3 - Do you ever wish you were someone else?Yeah but no one in particular, just... not me?4 - What is your entire name?Elizabeth Mary R___________5 - How old are you?206 - Age you get mistaken for:Either 15 or 23 there’s no in-between??7 - Your zodiac/horoscope and if you think it fits your personality:My sun sign is Virgo and I think the actual descriptions fit, just not all the bullshit tumblr ones which say all I do is tidy up and study because I literally do neither of those things and I’m the least visibly organised person on earth8 - What did you do on your last birthday?I went shopping with Alex, had a couple of drinks in the pub, chilled out listening to music and went for a meal at Cafe Rouge... I think we went out after but I can’t remember :L9 - What is one thing you would like to accomplish before your next birthday?I’d like to be able to perfect back&chest rolls with my hula hoop!10 - What is your hair color?It’s currently half way between brown and blonde I guess?11 - Have you ever dyed your hair?So many times haha, it’s technically dyed now...12 - What is your eye color?Brown13 - If you could change your eye color, would you?Eh, maybe? Would be nice to have lighter eyes so they stand out, they’re so dark tbh they look tiny14 - Do you wear contacts/glasses?I should do but I don’t15 - Your opinion about your body and how confortable you are with it:I’m not keen on it at all. It sticks out in all the wrong places and my back is too long. Idk I deal with it, but if I could have a different one I totally would16 - Have you ever considered plastic surgery? What would you alter about your body?I have considered it, I’ve like briefly considered lip fillers a couple of times but idk they usually look awful, when I’m older I’ll probably get various tucks but nothing is calling out to me?17 - Say 8 facts about your body:1. I have perfect vision, but my left eye is irregularly shaped, meaning light can’t enter the pupil properly2. I’m a UK 6-8 dress size3. I have long fingers I guess?4. I look a lot taller than I actually am (that counts, right)5. Actually yeah I’m 5′56. I’ve never had surgery or broken a bone7. But I have fractured my skull once (or some kind of head injury)8. I’m fairly flexible18 - Do you have any tattoos?Just one, need to book another one soon19 - Do you have any piercings?4 - lobe piercing in each ear, nose ring, helix piercings20 - Left or right handed?Right handed21 - What’s your sexual orientation???????22 - Do you drink?Yeah23 - Do you smoke?Not anymore!24 - Do you have any pets?Sadly not25 - Where do you work?I don’t at the moment, used to work at Starbucks though26 - Something you are working on right now:Passing my first year of uni :L27 - Do you have any “rules” about food?I’m vegetarian, and I try not to eat much that is preprepared as there’s a lot of salt; also I’m a small portion person, mostly :L28 - Where are you from?Bath, UK29 - What would you say is your best quality?Uhh that I’m funny, I guess?30 - What do you think you’re really good at?Uhhhhh... writing dialogue?31 - What do you think you’re really bad at?Sports32 - What talent do you wish you’d been born with?I wish I could’ve been a really good singer? Like one of those people who naturally have a beautiful voice?33 - Are you a bad person?Probably, depends who you ask34 - Are you nice to everyone?I am at first, but I’ve become a lot less tolerant of people’s shit since I first went to uni?35 - Say 3 facts about your personality:1. I’m one of those people who’s v quiet until I get to know someone2. I’m very insecure3. I’m usually up for doing stuff, and I usually stick to any plans I make36 - Has someone ever spread a nasty rumor about you?Haha yeah37 - What is your ideal bed? Why?Any comfortable bed is good, though I love the raised ones that you get in nice hotels because I feel important :L Must be a soft mattress tbh38 - Do wake up cranky?Apparently!39 - Do you sleep with a stuffed toy?I have them on the bed, yeah c:40 - What do you think about the most?Alex and hoop routines lmao41 - Share 2 habits:Nail biting (ew) and always having a coffee in lectures :L42 - What you want to be when you “get older”?Well-travelled and comfortable43 - What are your career goals?Some kind of Early Years specialist, I guess?44 - What is your ideal career?Idk, really... I’ve never really known what I’ve wanted to do?45 - Is your life anything like it was two years ago?Not really, 2 years ago I was at college, hoping to study Politics at Exeter. I was still with Alex which is pretty much the only thing which hasn’t changed46 - Do you replay things that have happened in your head?Aaaaaaall the time47 - Have you ever had an imaginary friend?Nope

48 - Say 10 facts about your room:1. I share it with Alex2. We sleep on a mattress on the floor3. There’s clothes all over the floor4. It’s where the PS4 lives5. It’s either too hot or too cold, there’s no in between6. There’s two lava lamps7. It’s where I usually hang out8. It’s literally always messy9. We have clothes rails instead of wardrobes10. The posters look great49 - Do you have any phobias?Driving past lorries, heights, distorted-horrific human forms (think Babadook)50 - Have you ever been to a psychiatrist/therapist?Yeah, one was crap and the other was nice but useless51 - Are you allergic to anything? If so, what?Peanuts, shellfish and pollen52 - Ever broken any bones?Nope53 - Ever come close to death?Yeah, I was in a car accident when I was 6. Police were amazed my mum and I survived...54 - Things you like and dislike about yourself:LIKE:My sense of humourMy sense of styleHow I can hula hoopMy music tasteThe fact that I can cook idkHow far I’ve come from secondary schoolDISLIKE:How I overreact to everythingThat I get jealous v easilyThe fact that said jealousy leads to panic/cruel commentsThat I can’t motivate myselfHow nervous I am around people55 - A random fact about yourself:I’ve never been to Amsterdam56 - What are three things most people don’t know about you?1. I actually really enjoy crap club music2. I am terrified of rollercoasters3. I’m not keen on cornflakes57 - An unknown fact about your life:I’ve never met either of my biological grandparents58 - Share something about yourself others might think is weird:I find skin-tight jeans really uncomfortable sorry59 - Five weird things that you like:1. Pineapple on pizza (apparently everyone hates this)2. Hideous jumpers3. Really loud cats4. Weird coloured lipstick5. Vodka mixed with wine60 - Do you have a facebook? If so, would you add the person who sent you this?I do, message me off anon & I’ll decide61 - Do you have any pictures on your Facebook?Loads62 - Describe yourself in one word/sentence:”You’re a bitch, but it’s funny and is the reason why I love you” - Alex63 - A quote you try to live by:”Each one of us is a brain, an athlete, a princess, a basket case and a criminal”64 - A famous person you’ve been compared to:I’ve been told I look like Anna Kendrick?65 - Weird things you do when you’re alone:I dance around the house, that’s about as far as it goes..66 - Something you do without realising:Pick at the skin of my fingers67 - 5 things you want to change:1. Brexit2. Trump3. Literally all the horrible things going on4. My facial features5. How difficult it is to get nice veggie food when on holiday68 - Someone you’d like to be for a day and why:Idk really?69 - Leave me a compliment:U sure are a nice anon

70 - What is your favorite thing to do?Hula hoop!71 - What’s your favorite color?Orange, purple and silver72 - What’s your favorite band/singer?Pink Floyd!73 - What’s your favorite movie?What’s Eating Gilbert Grape74 - What are your favorite books?The Night Circus (Erin Morgenstern), the Bell Jar (Sylvia Plath), the Chronicles of Chrestomanci (series; Diana Wynne Jones), the Hogfather (Terry Pratchett), Maskerade (Terry Pratchett)75 - What is your favorite quote and why?”Come sleep on the beach, keep within my reach, I just wanna die with you near, I’m feeling so high with you here” - from ‘Sea and Sand’ by the Who, because I have so many memories associated with this song76 - What is your favorite word?Soufflé; it looks like it should be pronounced “soo -full”, but it isn’t!77 - What is your least favorite word?Moist. Ew.78 - What is your favorite type of food?Roast potatoes?79 - You favorite ice cream?Ben & Jerrys Phish Food80 - What’s your favorite animal?Dogs & cats81 - Dogs or cats?I love them both!82 - Describe your favourite texture:Crushed velvet 83 - What is your favorite flower?Roses (bc I’m cliche)84 - What’s your favourite scent? And on the opposite sex?My favourite is sandalwood incense, but on guys it’s whatever the CK cologne Alex wears is85 - What is your favorite season?Summer!86 - What are the top five places you wish you could go before you die?Cambodia, Australia, Thailand, Peru, Japan87 - What are four things you can’t live without and why?Alex - because he’s my biggest supporterHula hooping - it’s the one thing guaranteed to make me happyMy phone - because it’s how I communicate with all my friends, who live miles awayThe beach - because looking at the sea puts things into perspective

88 - Which mythological creature are you most like? Why?Probably a nymph; I hide away but would be around for people I trust89 - What’s your favorite television show?Call the Midwife... or Big Brother at the moment lmao90 - Favorite place to shop at?All About Aud in Brighton 91 - Say 2 facts about your favorite things:They all improve my life in some wayThere’s no specific type of thing I love, there’s so many that contribute

92 - Say 4 facts about your parents:1. They met at the University of Bath in January 19842. They dated for 8 years before they were married3. My dad is an engineer and my mum is a pharmacist4. They originally wanted 4 children but I somehow put them off :L93 - Are you more like your mom or your dad?I’m a mixture of both, but probably slightly more like my dad?94 - Do you have any siblings?Nope!95 - Say 9 facts about your family:1. Both of my biological grandmothers died before I was born2. I’m not blood-related to any of my cousins3. I’m the oldest cousin by 7 years4. They’re very ‘traditional’ in their views5. I’m the only vegetarian6. My uncle and I are the only ones who are tattooed7. My maternal grandmother was at one point one of the fastest runners in Wales8. My great-grandmother lived until she was 999. One of my aunts lived in India for 10 years96 - What’s your relationship like with your family?Great with my parents, aunts and uncles, not so good with my grandparents lmao97 - Say 7 facts about your childhood:1. I was born in Radstock, Bath, but moved to my parents’ current home in 19992. My favourite school year was Year 13. I was really, really into snakes at one point4. My best friend’s name was Jennie5. My first ‘boyfriend’ in primary school was named Christopher; 15 years on and we still hang out, he drives me into town sometimes6. My favourite toy was a stuffed duck7. I didn’t go on a plane until I was 698 - The best and the worst childhood memories:Best: my 5th? birthday party; we had a piñata shaped like a worm, but my parents hadn’t realised you had to make a weak spot, so it took 20 minutes to open it (aka my dad pulled it down & everyone stood on it)Worst: the car accident99 - Say 6 facts about your home town:1. It was built by the Anglo Saxons and fortified to keep the Romans out2. It used to be a major city lmao (back in the bronze age)3. Its population is about 50004. There’s three churches5. And at least six pubs6. The highwayman William Pier lived & was killed there, but no one knows where his grave is since it’s unmarked100 - Are you going out of town soon?I’m going to London on Saturday!101 - Where would you like to live?Bristol, one day!102 - What would your dream house be like?Preferably like 4/5 bedroom townhouse (because I want 3 kids and a guest room lmao), but it’d be very ‘me’ in terms of decoration, with like fairy lights and wall hangings and super colourful things!103 - Where would you go on your dream vacation?Probably travelling, just to go everywhere!104 - Where you want to be right now?I’m quite happy here at the moment 105 - Top three places to visit:That I’ve been to?1. Vienna2. Amalfi Coast3. Berlin

106 - Would you ever smile at a stranger?Sometimes!107 - Do you prefer to be friends with girls or boys?I really don’t care :L108 - Who is someone you never tire of?Alex, Frankie and Callum109 - Do you have someone you can be your complete self around?See above!110 - Who is your most loyal friend?Callum111 - Is there anyone you can tell EVERYTHING to?Callum, Adam Gabe probably?112 - If your best friend died, what would you do?Be absolutely distraught?!113 - Something you’ve lied about.Uhh idk specifically?114 - Have you ever felt replaced?Dude my boyfriend can talk to someone else at the bar and I’ll worry that I’m useless lmao115 - Say 5 facts about your bestfriend(s):1. I met them all through completely different circumstances; I don’t think they know each other2. We’re close because we enjoy something different, be it fashion, music, whatever3. They’re people I can just carry on with like nothing happened when we meet up4. They all live much too far away5. If I have a party for my 21st I’m having it in Gloucestershire so it’s close for everyone so I can see them all

116 - The last person you hugged?Alex lmao117 - Story of your first kiss?My actual first kiss, I don’t remember because I was drunk lmao, but the first one I remember was nice and sweet and he was so nervous, he actually asked me - thought it was cute at the time, is probably, actually really cringey haha118 - Do you like kissing in public?Don’t mind it but not too much :L119 - Have you ever kissed someone older than you?Haha yeah120 - You have a preference for boys or girls?Eh121 - Is the male or female body closest to perfection?All bodies are perfect!122 - 5 things that irritate you about the same sex/opposite sex.I’m assuming this is based on relationships so I’ll go for cis men:1. Aversion to showering (both guys I dated properly would go a long time without showering lmao)2. Mansplaining (shut up)3. The fact they get praised for cooking/cleaning/whatever while I’m expected to do it4. The fact they get promoted quicker5. Hitting on me123 - Do you believe in love at first sight?Nope. Lust, yes124 - Do you believe in soul mates?Yeah, but I believe you can have multiple soul mates and they can be platonic, too125 - What is your idea of the perfect date?A nice walk, followed by a meal somewhere fun - nothing too fancy!126 - Based on past relationships or crushes, describe your perfect boyfriend/girlfriend:The one I already have! A shy, long-haired guy who loves classic rock and plays an instrument haha :L127 - What is the first thing you noticed in someone?I generally notice hair first because I’m awful and shallow haha128 - Are looks important in a relationship?At the start, yeah, but people get more attractive the more you find them to be a decent person...129 - What’s the most superficial characteristic you look for?Long hair on guys haha130 - What’s your opinion on age differences in relationships?Eugh.... as long as both are over 18 I guess it’s okay? People over like 21 dating people younger than 18 comes off as a bit weird131 - Would you ever date someone off of the Internet?I’d consider it132 - Five guys/girls whom you find attractive:1. Alex2. Syd Barrett3. Stevie Nicks4. Kate Bush5. Noel Fielding133 - Do you have a crush on anyone?Alex haha134 - A description of the girl/boy you like:He’s 5′7, has long brown hair and blue eyes, he’s cute and chubby and plays guitar. He likes talking to people but is really shy to do so, he lacks confidence which is sad but also people really do like him! He’s very sweet and soft and warm and I love him 135 - Say 1 fact about the person your like:His favourite film is the Lord of the Rings trilogy because he sees them all as one story136 - If the person you like says they like someone else, what would you say?”What the actual fuck” and then I’d cry137 - When was the last time you told someone you loved them?Just now!138 - Do you think someone has feelings for you?I hope so :L139 - Do you think someone is thinking about you right now?Ehh, maybe?140 - Have you ever cried over a guy/girl?Whoooooo hasn’t :L141 - Have you ever wanted someone you couldn’t have?Yeah, I think a lot of people have142 - Anyone you’re giving up on?Uhh, all the people I liked before I was with Alex haha143 - Have you ever liked someone you didn’t expect to?Yup!144 - Have you ever liked someone who your friends hated?They didn’t hate him but they took a while to warm to him145 - Have you ever liked one of your best friends?Yeah146 - Has anyone told you they don’t want to ever lose you?I think so? Lmao147 - Is there a boy/girl who you would do absolutely everything for?Probably like all of my friends haha148 - Is there someone you will never forget?Probably149 - Say five ways to win your heart:1. Actually listen to what I say2. Take me nice places3. Write me a song or a poem or something4. Be genuine and kind to me5. Help me out when I’m in one of my stupid sad phases150 - What turns you on?Being a musician, nice cologne/perfume, good hair, being a genuinely decent human :L