#why would you want socks with Clarksons face

[cheeseknives]

Etsy is my favourite website, what is this, what is that

[stephthenewgirl]

AGTAW — I: Twila Gilbert

“Twila, did you take my dark blue leather jacket?!” Elena Gilbert strides into her sister's bedroom without a simple thing as a kick. She halts upon laying her doe brown eyes on her sister; her mouth parted and her thin brows furrowing. There her sister stood in only a bra and panties but that's not what shocked her, it was the fact that Twila was in her underwear with a boy in her room. He sat at the edge of her queen-sized bed that was covered in gray and black sheets and heavy blankets. His elbows pressing down on his lap and his back hunched over. His deep brown eyes moved to the elder Gilbert twin.

The later twin — Twila — with celerity wheeled her body around, her large hazel brown eyes aimed at her sister sharply. Her body hiding the boy behind her midway. And the somewhat naked girl's medium brown hair that fell into a sepia reddish-brown moved sweetly and nimbly stroke her neck. A rainbow stripe shirt held between her fingers — a shirt she was about to put on before Elena intruded her bedroom.

Twila briskly put the rainbow shirt on, after she tugged the shirt down, stretching out slight folds on the fabric and she stomped her way towards the elder Gilbert. Elena's doe eyes stayed fixed on the boy that sits peacefully on her little sister's bed. She disliked this — and she disliked it even more that the boy who looked so peaceful and unbothered had no shirt on.

Why doesn't he have a shirt on? Elena query herself.

“Don't you know how to kick?” Twila asked heatedly. Elena's eyes fluttered to the younger twin.

“I-I. . .” The words just wouldn't come out. Her eyes wandered to the boy on her sister's bed. Elena wanted to say ''no boys allowed in the bedroom'', she wanted to ask why Twila had no clothing on and why was he shirtless, what was happening. Elena gasped as the boy known as Clarkson sent a wink to her then frowned.

Twila pushed Elena out of her room, slamming the door in her face.

“No boys in the room, Twila!” Elena finally found her voice.

“You're not my fucking mother, Elena!!” Twila waits to hear the footsteps of her sister walking away. It did not take long. Today, Elena had no energy to lecture her. Twila was grateful. She twirled back around, walking towards the end of her bed.

“Will, that was a show.” Clarkson Forsyth spoke, a lopsided smirk on his soft pink lips. Twila mocked smiled at the boy, picked up his black tee off her bed then threw it at him, hitting his face.

“Yeah, you would think that.” Their giggles bounded off the four walls. “Hurry up. Martin and Vera are picking us up in sixteen.” Twila told the boy as she made her way into her closet and yanked a pair of pants off the hanger.

“So should I hop out the window and wait for you outside?” Clarkson said, standing from the bed, the black shirt in his hold as he goes. He flipped the shirt over and slid his arms in the sleeves then pulled the shirt over his head and pulled it down over his body. Twila stepped out of the closet wearing dark blue loose jeans and held two pairs of black sneakers in her hand. She walked towards her bed, displaying a frown on her face.

“What? No.” Twila sits down at the end of her bed and pulls out the socks she tucked into her sneakers. “I'm fucking hungry, and I know you are too.” Twila slipped the sneakers on her feet and tied them up.

“I just don't want to start—” Clarkson started, taking small steps towards the Gilbert girl.

“Clark, you've been my best friend since kindergarten. My family knows you and Aunt Jenna is cool, and she likes you. You're not going to start anything. . .” Once she finished tying her shoelaces, Twila looked over to the obsidian hair strong-jawed boy. “. . . Okay.”

Clarkson chortle. “Yeah, okay.”

Twila nods slightly with a smile. “Okay.” She pushed herself off the bed. “Don't mind Elena, she's just being a prude. Elena's been all big-sister ever since mom and dad passed. The girl is only four minutes older than me but that is a mile for her.”

Clarkson cracks a tiny smile. “How are you feeling, anyway?”

Twila was quiet for a second, thinking of what to say. She looked up at her best friend and greeted him with a sad smile.

“Getting better. Can't do anything but get better. The world goes on.” Twila gives him a longer smile that forcefully reaches her cheeks. Clarkson pulls her into a hug. It took a while for Twila to react back, but she did; wrapping her arms around him tightly.

“Thanks — for being here for me. I didn't know what I would have done without you last night.”

It was late at night when the boy called, gasping with sobs and in need of his best friend. Twila immediately told him to come over. She sat up on her bed and rubbed her sleep away, awaiting his arrival. Finally arriving at the Gilbert home, Twila hugged him and listened to his recent problems with his father as he cried on her shoulder. Twila did not mind — Clarkson was there for her when her parents passed; even invited her to crash in his room when she did not feel like being at Caroline's. After his tears dried out, they watched Buffy together on her baby-blue-covered laptop — forgetting about the sadness as they laughed away.

“Of course, Clark. I will always be here for you.” Twila pulled from the hug, her hands clasping his biceps tenderly then she gave him a fast smile. “Now get off of me,” She pushed him jocosely. “C'mon, I'm starved.” Clarkson chortled with a head shake; the two grab their belongings and head downstairs.

Twila and Clarkson dumped their belongings on the sofa before passing the threshold into the kitchen. The gold sunlight streamed through the square window; the silhouette of the window slept on the kitchen Island and kissed Jeremy's naked arm.

“Good morning, Gilbert family!!.” Twila smiled wide at her family that was diffuse around the kitchen area.

“Morning, Twila,” Aunt Jenna says softly, tipping her head back from the refrigerator door, welcoming Twila back with a duplicate smile. Her eyesight moved to the boy beside her niece. “Oh, hey Clark. I didn't know you were here.”

“Yeah, I hope you don't mind. Just needed my best friend last night.”

“Oh, nonsense,” Jenna waves him off. “You are welcome anytime. Would you like some toast?”

Twila's eyes instantly widened, jerking her head from side to side, “Oh, no. I'm making waffles. Don't need you having us eating rocks, Aunt Jenna.”

“Not rocks, Twila. Just burnt toast.” The kitchen erupted with laughter for everyone's lips — even Jeremy's. The boy who had been in the dump all summer, spending his time with Vicki Donovan and drug heads. Both Gilbert twins were happy to hear him laugh again; they haven't heard it in a while. Elena shook her head in the corner with a smile and a mug in her hands. After, she pulled it closer to her lips, taking a sip. “Who needs lunch money?”

“Here!” Both Twila and Jeremy raised their hands, shouting.

“Elena?” Jenna walked to her bag that sits on the chair at the dinner table.

“No thanks, Aunt Jenna.”

“Okay.” The strawberry blond rummaged through her bag, pulling out three twenty-dollar bills. “Here you go.” Jenna handed Jeremy and Clarkson each a twenty.

“Oh no Jenna, you don't have to,” Clarkson says, declining the money.

“I know, I want to. So take the money.”

“Take the money!” Twila yelled, not sparing a glance over her shoulders. Her eyes were fixed on the waffles, she didn't want them to burn like Aunt Jenna does every time she cooks something.

“Yeah, or I'll take it.” Jeremy playfully stood up acting as if he was honestly going to, Aunt Jenna pushed him back on his seat.

“Sit down.” She told the boy. “Take it.” She utters to Clarkson, pushing it at his crest.

“Okay, okay. . . Thanks, Jenna.”

“No problem. Twila, yours is on the table.”

“Thanks, Jenna.”

“Don't you have a big presentation today?” Elena reminds the young caretaker.

“I'm meeting with my thesis advisor at. . .” Jenna glanced down at her watch and freaked, “Now. Crap!”

“Then go. We'll be fine.” Jenna nodded at Elena, she quickly put her hair up in a ponytail with a rubber band then grabbed her bag, and dashed out the side door.

Twila plopped the last waffle on top of the rest. Elena walked towards her sister, standing beside her.

“Why was Clarkson in your room?” Elena inquired.

The sepia brunette twisted her neck to her twin. “Because he came over last night.”

“Why?”

“Because he needed a friend, Elena. You know, like how Bonnie comes over when she needs you.”

“Bonnie's not a boy.”

Twila's brows narrowed down and her eyelids batted. She can't believe what Elena was saying to her right now. She angles her body, facing her sister.

“Elena, you know Clark for as long I've been friends with him.”

“Doesn't mean he's not a boy.”

Twila turned away from Elena; grabbing the pleat of waffles, she was done with this exchange. Before she walked off she targeted her big brown hazel eyes at her sister once more.

“I don't know when you've become such a wet blanket but stop with the mothering act. I can have whoever I want in my room.”Twila let Elena know, leaving her there speechless.

Twila was wordless while she ate her waffles, Jeremy and Clarkson on the other hand talked as if they were in a club meeting. The conversation with Elena left a sour taste in her mouth, she still enjoyed her waffles of course, but she was upset. Her big brown hazel eyes glared at her twin as she asked Jeremy a simple question: if he was okay. She snickers at Jeremy's response and rolled her eyes when Elena glanced at her with a confused pouty face.

Elena folds her arms and walks off from the three teens, not soon later Twila's phone buzzes. A text from Vera telling Twila she and Martin were outside. A small smile pulls at her perfect lips as she stares at the screen. Twila slides the phone back into her pocket and sights her eyes on her brother and best friend.

“Vera and Martin's outside.” Clarkson got the hint. He hopped off the stool, grabbing his pleat and then Twila's. She gave him a soft thank you. “Need a ride, Jer?”

“Sure.” Jeremy got off the stool taking his dish, going towards the sink. Clark and Jeremy end up in a —you go first, I go first— situation. Jeremy stepped aside letting Clarkson pass. Clark smiled up at him shyly. Twila looked at him with a knowing smile, and he ignored her smug look while he walked to the living room area grabbing his book bag on the sofa.

Twila walked up behind Clarkson, playfully bumping into him. “Oh, I'm sorry. You first. No, you go first. I go left, you go right? Oh, um. . . okay.” Twila laughed at her dramatic imitation of Jeremy and Clarkson's exchange in the kitchen.

“Ssh, shut up. He could hear you.” He whispered to the girl over his shoulder.

Twila rolls her eyes, “Oh, please.” She grins and moves from behind him, going to grab her book bag also. Clarkson shook his head, letting out a stressful sigh. Hoping Jeremy didn't hear his sister mocking.

“Come on, Jer!”

“Coming!” He placed the wet dish on the dish rack and rushed his way out of the kitchen grabbing his book bag on the chair head. “Hey Vera, Martin.” Jeremy greets his sister's two best friends. Vera is a square face, soft beige skin brunette with deep-set dark brown eyes. Her brows were black-filled and straight. Her hair was black and short in a pixie rat tail cut, her bangs were cut right above her eyebrows, and two long strips of black hair fell just under her chin on each side of her face.

“Hey, Jeremy.” Vera greeted back.

Martin was an almond skin boy with long brown hair and a handsome diamond-shaped face. His eyes are hooded, small, and brown. Martin is Vera's half-brother and was Twila's boyfriend of two years, now ex-boyfriend but still great friends.

“S'up, Jeremy. How's it been?” Martin made conversation.

“Okay. How about you?”

“Fan-fuckin-tastic. I got this new skateboard from my dad. It—”

“Please, stop talking about the skateboard. No one cares, Martin.” Vera twists her head briskly at her brother before aiming her sights back at the road.

“You're just mad I'm better than you.” Martin retorted.

“Ha! Better than me? Jokes. . . That was a funny joke.”

“You—”

“Please, can you turn on the radio? Don't need to hear your brother-sister bickering.” Jeremy and Clarkson chuckle at Twila's insult. Vera rolled her eyes yet she did what was told and made a turn; passing The Mystic Grill. The song WANNABE by Spice Girls blasted throughout the dark blue color car.

Vera, Clarkson, and Twila belled along with the song. Martin and Jeremy had no choice but to tolerate the ordeal of their boisterous singing.

“So, here's a story from A to Z. You wanna get with me, you gotta listen carefully. We got Em in the place who likes it in your face.” Twila bells.

“You got G like MC who likes it on a. Easy V doesn't come for free, she's a real lady. And as for me?” Vera follows.

“HA, YOU'LL SEE.” The three teens yell from the top of their lungs like a banshee's cry.

“C'mon guys.” An annoyed Jeremy wailed.

Martin's eyes traveled from the backseat to his sister. “Yeah, guys cut it off.”

“Slam your body down and wind it all around! Slam your body down and zig-a-zig ah!” They laughed at how irked the two boys were.

Twila pushed herself off her seat, her lips went to Martin's ear. “If you wanna be my lover!” Twila ear-splittingly sings.

Martin slapped his hand against his ear, “Twila, what the fuck!”

“You gotta get with my friend!” Vera sings.

“Friendships last forever!” Clarkson followed along.

“Friendship never eennnnds!” The three belled.

“That's not how it goes.”

“I don't give a shit, Martin. Now, get out of my car. We're here.” The long-haired boy rolled his eyes and pushed the car door open; he stepped out. The four other kids in the car followed shortly after.

“So — the boy had to sleep with her friends to be considered her lover?” Jeremy queried his eldest sister.

“That's not the message of the song, Jer.”

“Well, that's what it said.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Hey, Jeremy.” Vicki Donovan smiled making her way to Jeremy.

Jeremy copies and greets her back. “Hey, V.”

“Twila.” She uttered, moving her eyes to Twila.

“Victoria.” Twila gave a faint smile. Vicki and Twila were once good friends. They got especially close when Elena and Matt started dating but had a fallout this summer when she started to use her baby brother for his prescription pills and sleeping with him to avoid her own screwed-up life.

“Okay, let's go bitc—” Vera stops when her eyes set on Vicki Donovan. “Speaking of bitch.” Her hip cocked out, her fingers tucked into the back of her blue denim jeans pockets.

Vicki's mouth agape and her brows knitted. Her lips hastily retrieve with a curl and a scoff. Vera took hold of Twila's wrist, pulling the girl away from Vicki.

“See ya, Jeremy.” She said as the group of friends part ways from the young boy and ex-friend. “I still can't believe you allow him to be around her.”

“There are certain things I can tell Jeremy to do and certain things I could. He's hard-headed like that.” Twila explained with a shrug.

Lunch came fast for Twila. She had six-period lunch and had Mr. Tanner after. She was tired and glad the school day was almost over. Then she remembered she had to help Caroline with picking out some fresh faces for the new year try-outs after school. Great. She sighed.

“You look exhausted,” Vera slid, sitting down on the curved seat. She set her tray on the round cafeteria table. Today's lunch is a ham sandwich, chicken nuggets, apple, and a side of salads with a dressing of your choice and beverage. The food at Mystic Falls High wasn't so bad.

“I am.” Twila pushes her hair back, fingers gripping her hair softly. “I just wanted to go home after school and have a nice bubble bath, but I have try-out picking to do after school.” She wailed and pouted. Twila felt like sobbing, she truly needed and wanted that bubble bath.

“Aww, don't be so down, Twila. I'm sure you'll be fine.” Vera grabs a hold of her sandwich, taking a big bite.

“Let me detail it for you.” Twila leans forward, her hair falling as she moves her fingers and locks her big eyes with Vera's deep-set ones. “I'm try-out picking after school — with Caroline.”

“Ohh. . .” Vera sees the problem now.

Twila smiled tightly and her eyes squinted a bit and a little hum leaving her lips. Her smile says: now you get it. “It's going to be hell.”

“Aww, Twila. I'll be there for you.” Vera's mouth was occupied by food, she kept her teeth locked while her lips moved. The words came out muffled. Twila smiled anyway.

“You will?” Twila's lower lip pushes out.

Vera nods and speaks after swallowing. “If you need me, of course.”

“Aww, thanks,” The short-haired brunette joined her palm on top of Vera's hand. “But I can't do that to you.” She removed her hand, stealing Vera's apple. “I'll go through the belly of the beast on my own.” She takes a bit of the apple. Vera laughed.

“The belly of what beast?” Clarkson arrives, taking a spot next to Vera; Martin follows beside him.

Vera's eyes travel to the raven-haired boy. “Caroline.” She informed him.

“What about Caroline?” Martin questioned.

“I've got some fresh cheerleaders to pick out with Caroline after school.”

“Oh.” Clarkson and Martin mumble. Twila nods at the boys, chewing through the green apple.

Martin swallows down his food with water before speaking. “Aren't you co-captain? Can't you just do it another time?”

“No.” She placed the apple down on the table. “I'll just get it over with.”

“Clarkson, where were you last night?!” Barbie Forsyth asked, approaching the small group. Clarkson eyed up his sister. She stood with her hands at her hips.

“At Twila's.” He answered honestly. Barbie's eyes went to Twila; they had a squint to them.

“Of course.” She scoffed, shifting her eyes back at her brother.

The bottled blonde — Barbie Forsyth — never had a good relationship with Twila Josephine Gilbert. Ever since Twila ruined Barbie's gingerbread house in elementary school; just because she wanted a piece. And the other time they were partnered up in a history project. Barbie had done all the work and Twila just plastered her name on the paper. But those weren't the reasons why Barbie didn't like the big-eyed Gilbert all that well. For as long as she could remember, Clarkson and Twila were inseparable. She always felt like Twila was more of Clarkson's sister than she ever was.

“Why were you at her house?”

“I, uh. . . I needed someone to talk to.”

Barbie's head jerked forward. Unbelievable, she thought. “You could have talked to me.” Her light green eyes stayed on her brother; it made Clarkson feel guilty the way they were intensely piercing at him. Her eyelids blinked and she rolled her eyes. “Whatever. I wanted to speak to you last night.”

“Okay. . . What?”

Barbie glanced at Twila, who like everyone else at the table was focused on them. Barbie looked back at her brother. “Not here in front of her.” She yanked the boy, pulling him off his seat and away from the group.

Vera chortle, aiming her sight on Twila. “I'm guessing she still hates you for not doing the history project in middle school.”

“Ha, guessing?” Martin uttered. “It's a known fact she does.”

Twila laughed along with her friends, brushing down the fact that deep down she felt awful that her best friend's sister hated her for something she did in middle school. Not knowing that Barbie didn't dislike her because of some petty school project issue, the bottled blonde felt like Twila took her brother from her.

“Once our home state of Virginia joined the confederacy in 1861, it created a tremendous amount of tension within the state. People in Virginia's northwest region had different ideals than those from the traditional deep south. Then Virginia divided in 1863 with the northwest region joining the union.”

In the back corner of the room, Twila sat near the large windows. Mr. Tanner's voice was inaudible to her ears as she doodled in her history book. Through the windows, the evening sun rays hit the desk of students and the classroom floor. One golden glint shimmers comfortably on Twila's hair. A rainbow hues sat at her open history book, making Twila stop her hand movement. She admired the reflection of the colorful lights. Rainbows are one of Twila's favorable things about nature. Rainbows and heavy rain on a lazy afternoon, but she always hated the after smell. It always smelled of wet soil and moist greens.

Her large eyes wandered to the windows, it landed on the tree just outside Ms. Tanner's classroom. A crow sitting perfectly inanimate, as if it was a statue.

It was larger than most. Its feathers pitch as black but the little sunlight that hits its feathers shine a rainbow on it. It was sleek and had greedy dark claws and a sharp beak. Its black eyes glittered, and they were fixed on Elena; the brunette that sits two rolls down from Twila.

Twila watched the crow leer at her twin with this inclination in its eyes. Like how boys' eyes linger on a girl wearing tight clothes; those tops that pop out their cleavage or dresses that outline their bodies.

It was creepy, to say the least.

Then its dark eyes blink at Twila. The girl flinched back a bit, her eyes got broader, but they stayed on the bird. It was like the bird was challenging her; playing with her. A game of who would look away first.

The school bell boom, Twila flinched once more. Her eyes flutter to the front of the classroom seeing everyone packing up.

She lost.

Twila stood up, grabbing her book bag along, and followed her way out the room behind the crowd of teenagers. The short brunette sauntered her way through the crowded hall; she made a right, passing four classroom doors before reaching the staircase. She walked four flights of stairs down, landing on the first floor she went to her locker, putting and taking some of her things then — to Caroline she went.

Twila walked through the football field towards the concern the school gave the cheerleaders to practice. Her eyes gazed at the wannabe cheerleaders of all ages and sizes perfecting their moves. It brought a smile to her face.

Until Caroline spoke.

“Ugh, there you are.” The blonde's voice reached Gilbert's. Twila rolled her eyes. Always Caroline, the extra control Queen.

“Hello to you too, Care.” Twila drops her bag on the green cut grass. “Let's get this over with, shall we?” Some in the flock of wannabe cheerleaders chortle.

Caroline narrows her light bluish-green eyes before throwing Twila a mocked cheesy grin. The blonde pulled the sheet of paper to her eyesight. “Okay, first off you are going to be asked some questions — okay.” The group nods. “Okay, any of you guys have experience with cheerleading? Like gymnastics, dance, or have ever cheered before? If you have, raise your hand.” Caroline nods and marks it down. Caroline glanced to her side, “You want to say something, or are just going to stand there. Co-captain.”

Twila steps forward with a smirk. “All who have experienced step forward, those who don't. Please take a seat at the bleachers.” They followed their orders and Twila continued. “Now I want you all to show me what you've got. Jump, tumble, split, dance? Whatever you've got.”

The fourteen that step forward show Caroline and Twila what they could bring to the team. Both girls watched with sharp eyes. Twila had nicely commented on one girl who intended to do a cartwheel backflip after Caroline rudely told her she shouldn't try it again.

Twila told her she should. She did and succeeded. It was much better the second time around.

Throughout the try-out, Caroline rolled her eyes, scoffed, and scored the wannabe cheerleaders. Twila on the other hand praised and nicely Judged their performance. But she had snickered here and there with the blonde.

“Okay, we are done.” Twila was glad. “Those who made the team will be getting an email in two days and those who didn't,” Caroline sucked air through her teeth. “Too bad.” She shines her big smile, “Okay, bye.”

It was late afternoon and the sun cast a golden shadow upon the sky and Twila didn't care that it was four something when she got home, she was just happy she got her bubble bath. Her arms rest on the top edge of the tub and her hair held up by a black hair claw. She relaxed peacefully in the warm water and the smell of cinnamon, she bathed in the quietness. That was until Elena ruined it.

“Elena!” Twila shouts at her sister that breaks into the bathroom.

“Sorry,” Elena says. “Bleeding.” She put her foot on top of the toilet cover and rolled the bottom of her jeans up.

Twila looked down seeing the dry blood, “What happened?”

“I fell in the cemetery when I was running from a crow.

“Running from a crow?” It's brought a chill down Twila back. Her mind wondered if it could be the same crow watching her from the tree outside Ms. Tanner's window. No, she's just being paranoid.

“Yes.” Elena rolled down the leg of her jeans after cleaning the scraps on her leg and putting on a bandage.

“What were you doing at the cemetery?”

Elena put her foot down on the bathroom ground, sighed, and sat down on the bath cover. “I went to see mom and dad.”

Twila rolled her pretty eyes. “But you didn't see them, did you? You went to see a stone with their names plastered on it.” Twila's fingers wave in the bubble, playing with them. It was stupid for Elena to go see a piece of rock with their parent's names on it. It wasn't gonna bring them back, She thought, nothing was gonna bring them back.

Elena sighs and brushes her hair back. “I'm going to the grill, you want to come?”

“No thanks,” Twila looks over her shoulder. “I had a long day, I'm just gonna relax at home.”

The elder's twin nods, “Okay.” Elena left the bathroom, shutting the door behind her. Twila fell back to the bath and relaxed once again.

A.N— Maine focus characters & Twila's outfit

[twloha]

Meet the Interns: Brittney

Things I like: Besides TWLOHA... alligators, Demi Lovato, my little brother, the USWNT team, concerts, Texas, the Dallas Cowboys, Whataburger, aquariums and zoos, traveling, watching YouTube videos, Netflix, One Tree Hill, going out to eat with my friends, socks, chips and salsa, pandas, tattoos, animals, snorkeling, the ocean, going to the movies, being with my family, a good documentary, meeting new people, breakfast tacos, sweet tea, and again, alligators.

Why I’m here: I’m here because mental health issues and addiction have always been close to my heart. Having loved ones who have struggled with these issues has made me even more connected. I’m here because I want to help anyone and everyone who is struggling. I want them to know that treatment and recovery are possible. I want them to know that it is okay to not be okay. I want loved ones of those struggling to not give up and to know that things will get better.

I’ve been a fan of TWLOHA for a while, so to now be part of the team is a dream come true.  I truly believe TWLOHA is making a difference and I am honored to be a part of this organization that presents hope and connects people to help.

I would most likely stuff the office fridge with: Anything spicy, leftover pizza, ranch, fruit, breakfast food, stuff for tacos, hot sauce, leftover Olive Garden, and Smucker’s Uncrustables.

On the weekends, you can find me: Going on new adventures, hanging out with my friends, at a concert, taking a road trip, at a soccer game, at the beach, at the gym, watching Netflix, trying new restaurants, (currently) reading Girl, Wash Your Face by Rachel Hollis (I highly recommend it!), and watching YouTube videos.  

We’re jamming to your playlist on a road trip, what artists are we listening to? Top hits, The Summer Set, Demi Lovato, Khalid, Ellie Goulding, Julia Michaels, worship songs, LANY, Shawn McDonald, Alessia Cara, Taylor Swift, Ariana Grande, The Jonas Brothers (THEY’RE BACK!), Halsey, Selena (we are both from Corpus Christi!), Slightly Stoopid, Lil Wayne, Nicki, Katy Perry, Fall Out Boy, 90’s music, Spice Girls, Fletcher, more of The Summer Set, Avril Lavigne, Mayday Parade, Kelly Clarkson, and All Time Low.

You scored free tickets to see your favorite performer live! Who is it? DEMI LOVATO. And I’m taking my sister so we can laugh and cry and scream together.    

If you have dibs on the TV, what are you most likely watching? One Tree Hill, Grey’s Anatomy, Riverdale, any rom-com, the Demi Lovato documentary, Pitch Perfect, Shameless, Chilling Adventures of Sabrina, GLOW, Stranger Things, MTV’s The Challenge, and The Voice.

If you could book a trip to anywhere, where would you go? Australia, to dive the Great Barrier Reef. China, to see pandas. Or anywhere in Europe!

What challenges you and takes you out of your comfort zone? The unknown. For me, that is basically this internship. Leaving my job, my family, and everything I knew back home to come to a different state, live with strangers, and work in a field I have never worked in before. The more I am out of my comfort zone, the more I grow so I knew this scary step was a necessary one I had to take. It’s been one of the best decisions I’ve ever made. Although the unknown has been challenging, it has been so, so worth it.

To learn more about becoming an intern click here.

[bitletsanddrabbles]

Don’t Shoot the Butler

I keep trying to work this scene in someplace and it keeps resisting, so I decided to just type it up, stick it here, and get on with life.

Fandom: Downton Abbey

Characters: Mary Crawley, Robert Crawley, George Crawley, Thomas Barrow, Dr. Clarkson

Relationships: General

Notes: Completely adapted from my own childhood.

It felt good to be out of the office. Normally, Lady Mary loved her work. There was a surprising sense of satisfaction to be found sitting at her desk, looking over records and plans, trying to anticipate whatever the future might throw her way. In the month since the birth of her second son, however, sitting too long in the still silence made her edgy. It wasn't so bad if Henry or Tom were there, but when they were in York with their own work, which was the case on this particular day, it got to be intolerable. So it was with a feeling of profound relief that she left the office behind and headed back toward Downton Abbey.

It was a lovely day. Perhaps, she thought, she would arrange for an outdoor picnic for the children when Sybbie got home from school. Her mother should be home from the hospital by then, so if her father were willing to come along, they'd have the two mobile children outnumbered.  George and Sybbie were largely well behaved, but she tended to err on the side of caution when it came to play dates.

She was only marginally surprised to find her father sitting outside, on the shaded bench, reading. He normally was indoors at this time of day, still seeing to the budget, which was all she would let him oversee these days. Still, the weather was lovely and she was ready for a break herself, so rather than puzzling over the deviation in his behavior, she simply walked over to him, smiling. "Hello, Papa. Taking a break? I thought you were determined to keep working until you were in  your grave."

Robert glanced up at her, grimaced, and returned his eyes to his book. "There was too much racket to work," he informed her, turning the page.

"Racket?" The very concept confused Mary. She couldn't think of a single household activity, at least upstairs, that could constitute as 'racket', and she doubted even Mrs. Patmore could yell loudly enough to be heard in the library from the kitchen. Even if the children had convinced nanny and Barrow to let them out of the nursery for a bit, there shouldn't have been 'racket'. The only thing she could possibly think of was that something had set off the puppy. "What, did Tiaa find something to chase?"

"Tiaa is a little four legged saint who would never disturb my work," her father informed her primly, marking his place and closing his book in favor of looking up at her. It was complete balderdash, of course, but he said it solemnly. "No, Barrow has hurt himself somehow. Doctor Clarkson is up to look at it, of course, but apparently George is inconsolable for some reason. He, in turn, was upsetting Edward, so Nanny brought Eddie down to the drawing room, so now if I want to get anything done, I have to do it over a crying infant and a screaming five year old."

Mary rolled her eyes and decided this was not the best time to bring up a possible picnic. "Is Barrow alright at least?"

"I have no idea. The coroner hasn't shown up, so I'll take that as a good sign."

"Really, Papa! You might show a bit more concern." Mary wasn't entirely certain when she'd grown protective of Downton's resident trouble maker. It certainly wasn't when he'd rescued her sister from a fire. She suspected it was about the time her son had added "favorite toy" to Barrow's list of duties. Either way, she was not pleased by the idea of his being injured.

Robert gave her an unimpressed look. "Mary, if it were anything serious, they'd have told me rather than simply driving me out of my house with noise."

Admittedly, he had a point. If anything Nanny was known for exaggerating problems, not the other way around. Still, if her son was upset, Mary was going to look into it. "Well I'm going to see how things are going. Shall I send Tiaa to fetch you if it's quiet?"

"No, send one of the staff. It's what we pay them for."

"You just don't want to be chasing your precious saint of a puppy around the estate for the next hour and a half." With one last arch look, Mary headed for the house. With Barrow indisposed and Andrew probably running ten different directions at once as a result, she let herself through the door.

It was immediately apparent why her father (who loved his grandchildren, but was entirely unsuited to dealing with them when they were upset) had left the house.  The drawing room was quiet, which meant Nanny had managed to get Edward settled, but she could hear George's sobbing from the entry. Admittedly, sound carried very well in the stone halls and vaulted ceilings of Downton's gallery and hall, but to be heard from the nursery the boy had to be making quite a fuss.

By the time she had rushed (in a proper, lady-like manner, of course) up the gallery stairs and down the hall to the nursery, she was exceedingly glad she'd run into her father before entering the house. If she hadn't, she'd have been in a state of panic, convinced that someone was out-and-out murdering her son. The door to the nursery stood open, which at least partially explained the noise level. When she reached it, Mary found the most mystifying tableau.

Barrow sat in one of the nursery chairs. The butler had one shoe on and one shoe, along with it's sock, off, but otherwise looked completely normal. George was in his lap clinging to him as if his life depended on it, absolutely howling with anguish, tear streaming down his cheeks and his nose all over snot, despite Barrow's patting him on the back and dabbing his face with a handkerchief. Doctor Clarkson stood against the far wall, bag in hand, giving them plenty of room and looking completely lost.

If she'd been told George had been injured, or if there had been any side of it, things would have made sense to Mary. As it was, she felt as lost as the doctor looked. "Georgie?" Since only Doctor Clarkson seemed to hear her, she took several steps into the room and tried again, raising her voice in an effort to be heard over the din. "Georgie, darling, what's wrong?"

That at least got Barrow's attention (bless the man's good hearing, for once) and he managed to coax George into looking her direction. The second he saw his mother, the five-year-old slid out of Barrow's lap and came running. Mary knelt down and stretched her arms to him, pulling him close as he reached her and trying not to wince as he cried into her ear. "Georgie, please, calm down. Mommy's here." She pulled back enough to smooth her hand over his hair, making little shushing noises at him. "Won't you tell me what's wrong?"

It was difficult to sound soothing at an audible volume under the circumstances, but apparently she'd managed, because George's sobbing took the form of words. Shuddering, gasping, barely decipherable words, but words none-the-less. "He...he's going to sh...shoot Mr....Mr. Barrow!" One chubby finger pointed to Doctor Clarkson.

From the expressions on their faces, this was more than either of the men had managed to get out of the boy. Also, they had no idea what he was talking about.

Progress, at least, was progress, so Mary tried again. "Why would anyone shoot Mr. Barrow?" she asked, keeping her voice completely reasonable. She hoped that when he saw she wasn't concerned, George would become less concerned himself. "Why don't you start from the beginning and tell me what's happened?"

While George was distracted, Doctor Clarkson edged his way over and knelt down to examine Barrow's exposed ankle. The butler winced a bit, but didn't seem to be in excruciating pain.

"We...we were on a hunt," George explained. He was still crying, but at least having to concentrate on whole sentences brought his volume down a bit. "And Mr. Barrow hurt his...his leg...just like Legionnaire..." The sniffles increased again, almost obliterating the soft conversation between doctor and patient.

"Legionnaire?"

"One of the horses."

The pieces started to fall into place in Mary's head. From the expression on his face, they were doing the same for Barrow. This was, over all, a good thing, because George was becoming more garbled again as he finished. "And so...so now they're going to have to...to shoot Mr....Mr....." The boy dissolved once more into noisy, messy sobbing and buried his face against his mother's shoulder, rendering the rest of his sentence incomprehensible.

Sighing, torn between sympathy for her son's distress and strained amusement, Mary pulled him against her and patted his back. "There, there, Georgie, it's all right. I promise, Mr. Barrow will be perfectly all right. You don't shoot butlers with broken legs."