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jilytho · 3 years

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will you accept this rose?

ch1 of my new jily bachelor au

Read below or on AO3

James never intended to become The Bachelor.

Of course he was looking for love, and of course all the women on these shows were gorgeous and inspiring and amazing, but he liked the idea of old fashioned love. Love found from meet-cutes in restaurants or bars or grocery stores or university classes. Love like his parents, real and deep, fast and almost from first sight. They’d literally collided in the library during finals season at school, Fleamont dropped all of his research on polymers and Euphemia’s political science papers got all mixed in and they fell in love righting the papers.

He’d grown up with parents deeply committed to each other and deeply, sincerely in love. And they loved him just as much. He had grown up supported and adored and utterly spoiled. They supported him choosing to pursue a career in professional football over the much safer engineering degree he’d planned to pursue. They attended every single game he played in, waving banners with his face on them right alongside Sirius and Remus. They had set a standard for him that every relationship he’d had failed to meet.

But after months and months of blind dates and terrible tinder dates and people thinking he’s a catfish on tinder just because he used to be a somewhat famous football player, he’s nearly given up hope. He was researching rescue organizations to get a brother cat for Prongs (he was thinking of naming it Padfoot, had a nice ring) when Sirius walked in and spotted him. Sirius turned on his heel and walked out the instant he realized what he was doing and immediately submitted James to be the next Bachelor.

He got picked. At first he fought Sirius on it, nobody actually finds love on those shows. It's all just trashy reality TV but then Sirius got Euphemia involved and it was essentially settled right then and there.

The response had been overwhelming after the announcement. He’d gained three million Instagram followers within the week and was offered multiple sponsorship deals. His management team was thrilled. The show had reportedly received a record number of applicants from women, all hoping to end the season engaged to him or with a couple million followers and an influencer career all set up.

That first night, it all felt very surreal. He was standing there on the edge of a red carpet in a stiff tux and what felt like hundreds of cameras on him. Sweat pooling in his armpits, waiting for 35 women to appear by limo and introduce themselves and potentially become his wife.

Peter kept trying to tell them that there was no way any relationship with any of these women would last because obviously they wouldn’t be there for the ‘right reasons’. Peter felt that there was no right reason to go onto a reality tv show but he was outvoted as Remus insisted that if anyone was ever going to find love on a reality show, it'd be James.

Each one seemed more amazing and beautiful than the last. There were some he instantly knew he’d want to talk further with and some he knew he’d be fine never speaking with again.

First was Ariana, stunningly gorgeous and tall, olive toned skin perfectly complemented by the sage green dress she wore. She had served in the Air Force for two years before returning home to become a teacher and he felt instantly excited to speak with her and totally intimidated.

Ariana was followed by Layla. She was undoubtedly stunning but kept their conversation very surface level, shaking his hand and saying how excited she was and hoped he was excited as well, and then asked for a hug and tried to feel if he was excited to see her.

Violet showed up riding on a horse which at first felt cool until the lights all spooked the horse and she almost fell off which felt like a near death experience but she played it off casually and sweetly and told him about growing up around animals on her parents farm. She seemed funny and down to earth and had a smile that made his entire chest go numb.

Ava, a cardiologist, instantly made his mouth dry up when he saw her step out of the limo, stunning and confident, navy dress with a daring leg slit that was just enough for a glimpse of her perfect dark skin to peek out through. She brought him an anatomically correct plush heart and asked him to keep it as a representation of her own heart and keep it safe. It was one of the cutest introductions so far and he instantly knew he’d want to spend some time speaking with her tonight.

It felt ridiculously unreal and just bizarre. All completely beautiful and mostly genuine seeming, with careers ranging from actual Runway Models to YouTube vloggers to doctors and financial professionals. It really just felt… awkward and stilted. He was meeting the most engaging and impressive women in the world but the whole thing just felt so stale and staged.

Until, that is, Lily. The limo pulled up and instantly all he saw was red. Long milky leg peeking out from the leg slit of her deep red sparkly dress that clung to every single beautiful curve. Her head was tilted down as she got out and he watched as her heel twisted in her dress as she got out, causing her to instantly stumble and trip as she tried to stand.

“Ah fuck it all ,fucking hell” she swore as she tumbled out, grabbing the door for balance and nearly falling on her face.

He raced over to help her up, her long red hair swinging between them. She flipped her hair back and tucked in behind her ear as he reached down to take her hand and meet her eyes and oh my god her eyes were perfect her face was perfect she was perfect and now his mouth was dry.

“Hi! I’m Lily,” she smiled up at him, righting herself but not stepping back anymore, less than a few inches between their faces. Close enough he could smell her, something warm and vanilla, and completely perfect.

“James,” he choked out, the word croaking as he cleared his throat.

“Should we um… move over there?” She gestured to the carpeted foot of the stairs where he’d stood to greet every other guest.

“Oh, yeah probably.” He led them there at one, hands clasped together.

“So um, I’m Lily Evans, I guess you could say I’m falling for you?” she cringed as she said it, visibly flushing.

“It seems like you’d be used to falling.”

Her eyebrows shot up into her hairline, “are you saying I look clumsy?”

“No, erm I just mean like. You fell right then and also it seems like you uh fell from heaven?”

He could feel Sirius laughing at him already. Lily just smiled lightly, looking him up and down. “Well, I guess I’ll be going inside now. Very nice to meet you.”

“You too, Lily.” His hand instantly shot into his hair as he watched her walk away.

That was different.

#jily #jily fic #james potter #lily evans #jilytho

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weshallc · 3 years

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This is so exciting, can’t wait to see what happens next! (No, I honestly do forget)

Berns Night (Revisited) 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿

Call the Midwife AU (Crown Jewels, everyone but Paddy and Bernie at Mount Busby)

Chapter Three: OF MICE AND MEN

“The best laid schemes o’ Mice an’ Men. Gang aft agley. An’ lea’e us nought but grief an’ pain. For promis’d joy!” To A Mouse by Robert Burns 1785.

“Liars and Lovers Combine Tonight, We’re Gonna Make A Scene.” The Captain by Biffy Clyro 2009.

The largest reception room at Mount Busby Farm would have once been very grand, with Queen Anne furniture and Regency coffee tables. The only thing that remained unchanged was that the original fireplace still gave up warmth and light provided by nature, and the windows let in the light from the same star constellations and the same moon.

The Two Loves preferred antique furniture of a later period and in their 80s comfort was paramount. The room was stocked with love seats, chesterfields, recliners. bean bags, generous cushions, and a rather charming gold settee that suspiciously looked pre-war. Just no one was sure which war. Everyone mocked it, but everyone fought to sit on it as it was very comfy. Patsy often talked about replacing it, but Delia wouldn’t hear of it. “You don’t throw your memories out with the rubbish and there are more memories than just ours hidden within these cushions, Cariad.” That was always the end of it.

The most current occupants of that particular settee to be making memories were Tim Turner and Lucille Anderson. Phyllis looked over at the awkward teen, who was no longer as awkward as he had once been. He sat comfortably chatting to his companion, both of them laughing at intervals. Lucille often finishing Tim’s sentences or him proclaiming, yep that’s it or knew you’d get it when they appeared to reach a level of understanding. Of course, when she asked the student nurse about her new friendship, she would just reply, brushing the older nurse off. “Oh, he is a dear boy; He makes me laugh.”

He was certainly doing that from where Matron Crane was sitting on a leather tan Whitworth dining chair, probably by Frank Hudson. Years of heavy lifting before the introduction of patient hoists and transfer boards had taken their toll on the matron’s back. It was why she had found herself in a more managerial role much earlier than she would have planned. She looked at Student Nurse Anderson and thought maybe the NHS was in more tender capable hands than the shitstirrers would have them believe.

“I am wondering if we should start,” youth minister Tom Hereward was on his feet. “I am not sure how long baby will sleep in a strange house.”

“I have been called many things in my time, but not sure strange is one of them,” laughed Delia.

“Oh, I have Deals, it’s fine,” reassured Patsy.

Tom turned pink. Trixie leaned over to him, “They are joking,” and sat back onto the giant purple pouffe she was sharing with Valerie. “I know, I live here. I have to put up with it all the time.”

“So. Erm who is in charge, who has the most authority here.” Tom was still trying to create some sense of order.

“Well, Julia is the vicar,” chirped in Bobby, trying to offer her husband some support.

“But this is not the church,” Rev Julia responded with a warm smile.

“Another shock there then, it’s all coming out tonight, Patsy.” Delia couldn’t help herself when she had an audience and a bottle of Prosecco was being passed round.

“Matron Crane is on the council,” Lucille reminded everyone.

“No, I don’t think that matters lass, it’s not a council matter.” Phyllis shook her head.

“Well, someone needs to take the lead,” Tom said with a hint of irritation.

“I will! On the authority that I am a young woman on her only night off of the week,” struck up Val, “but I have agreed to come here and discuss plans for Bernie’s birthday instead of having two for one sex on the beach.”

“It’s a cocktail, and its happy hour in the Fourteen Teacups on a Tuesday,” Trixie interpreted for everyone.

“That’s ambitious having a happy hour in the Teacups, isn’t it?” said Fred, who had managed to wedge himself into a deep red Chesterfield.

“Yeah, apparently Ursula gives you the right change, that’s why they call it happy hour,” Tim smirked.

“As I am representing the Crown. I will continue,” said Val and she did, “we want to put on a Burns Night for Bernie’s birthday like in the old days. Now Tim has told us Paddy is half Scottish.”

“Why isn’t he here?” asked Bobby.

“Well, he said it would look suspicious if he left Bernie on her tod behind the bar on a Tuesday night,” Vi explained sitting on a scarlet love seat next to Fred.

“Yep, in case our two Tuesday night regulars rush the bar at once,” snorted Val.

“I think it’s more that it would look suspicious if he actually just left Bernie alone for five minutes,” Trixie corrected.

Lucille felt Tim squirm in the seat beside her. She knew he thought the world of Bernie, but didn’t like to hear her relationship with his father discussed in public. This was inevitable being a small village with one pub, one church and two of the village's most popular inhabitants linked to both. She tried to ease his tension.

“I think it’s lovely, just shows as my grandma used to say there may be snow on the roof, but there is still fire in the grate.”

As everyone surrendered to laughter, Matron shared a smile with the vicar, both of them confirming Lucille might be familiar with the saying, but maybe not its meaning.

Delia was the first to keep a straight face, “But they are only bairns, wait until they are mine and Pats age then the fire may need a little bit of stoking.”

“Yes, Deals, but remember we have never required the use of a poker.”

Val swiftly continued, “Paddy doesn’t wish to be involved.”

“Why?” Reggie asked, perched on his wooden stool.

Val motioned towards Tim, who was still recovering from the last topic of conversation.

“Because it would look ridiculous, his words not mine.” Tim continued, “and I quote, Wilf had the works, I would look like I was trying to pull a stunt to impress Bernie by looking like I was dressing in drag and taking the piss.”

Tim looked at his knees, and Lucille gave one a quick squeeze. She knew this wasn’t easy for him.

Everyone else also looked at their knees. The mood was solemn.

“We can all understand Paddy’s reasons.” There were a couple of nods and sighs in response. “But we aren’t putting up with any of that nonsense,” Val added with a grin.

This was met with a very large and unanimous cheer.

“Well, I’ve already looked up the Turner tartan,” Trixie handed an iPad over to Patsy via Val.

“That’s very smart,” approved the artist.

“Sorry I hate to throw a spanner in the works, but how are we going to afford all this?” butt in a pensive Vi.

“We’ve already thought of that,” grinned Delia, ”Mount Busby will cover the cost of the costume.”

“That’s very generous,” sniffed Evie, who had nearly dozed off in a leather recliner.

“Not really,” explained Patsy. “I have a friend that works for Kilts 4 U and they are very interested in looking into the possibility of making an alpaca lined sporran.”

This was news to Reggie who followed anything relating to his charges with great interest, “What’s a sporran?”

“It’s where he keeps his spare change,” Fred enlightened, or at least tried to.

“It’s the little purse that men wear at the front of the kilt, Reggie,” Violet elaborated. He seemed reassured by this.

“So anyway, in return for a few samples,” Patsy continued, “my friend will be happy to hire out the full regalia for the evening.”

“It’s not long now until Burns Night have you got some sort of prototype ready?” quizzed Evie.

“Lady K is working on them as we speak. She loves nothing better than fiddling with a bit of alpaca wool,” Delia replied gleefully.

“Lady K?” Phyllis queried.

“Yes, she is very creative,” reassured Trixie.

“I don’t doubt it, Trixie, but she is one of Bernie’s clients. What if the lass sees what she is up too”

“Don’t fret Phyllis,” Patsy interjected, “I find that Antonia is much less forgetful when she has an occupation to challenge her and I am certain she won’t let the cat out of its proverbial bag.”

Jack sat on the floor accidently banged his head against the fire surround he was leaning against, “Can’t imagine Berns thinking; oh look Lady K is sticking bits of alpaca wool to a man’s bag he hangs in front of his todger. That must be something to do with Paddy and my birthday”

Vi was quick to admonish Jack, but when even Tom started to laugh, she decided to let it go.

“What about the little knifey thing they keep in their sock that he stabs the Haggis with?” Fred was beginning to get excited.

“Sgian dubh,” corrected Vi.

“All part of the traditional dress,” Patsy added a tone to her voice to reassure everyone that she had thought of everything.

“So that’s the gear sorted. Me and Reggie are in charge of the beer. What else?” Fred’s eyes were wide, thinking they actually might be able to pull this off.

“Well, myself and Evie have created a menu, pretty much on the lines of what we used to do in Wilf’s day.” Violet opened a small notebook and put on her reading glasses.

Clearing her throat she read, “Cock-a-leekie soup, Scottish salmon and tattie scones or scotch egg for starters.”

“Cock a what?” shouted up Jack.

“Chicken and vegetable soup to you, young man. There will be a just vegetable option too.” Violet’s voice began to take on the air it adopted when addressing an audience. “Then we have the Haggis or vegan Haggis, neeps and tatties and a whisky sauce.”

“What about those that might not wish to partake in the Haggis?” Tom asked nervously, as he might.

Evie spoke up before Vi could respond. “There is always the Fourteen Teacups for the likes of those that don’t wish to have Haggis. It’s a Burns Night. If you don’t want Haggis, then stay at home and order in a pizza.”

“What’s for pudding?” Bobby struck up, squeezing her husband’s hand.

“Cranachan which is raspberries, cream, oats and whisky, or Clootie pudding with whisky sauce or whisky ice cream or a Scottish cheese board with oatcakes.”

Murmurs of approval were aimed in Violet’s direction.

“That’s a lot of whisky?” Lucille remarked.

Violet agreed, “Yes, we need just a house whisky for everyone for the toasts Val, I will leave that to you, but you need to pay the piper with a good quality malt.”

Silence broke out in the previously buzzing, over occupied living room.

“Piper!” Several people groaned at once.

Fred, who was not going to let anything get in the way of this Burn’s Night declared, “Look, we will just have to bung on a recording.” Turning to Tim and Jack, he said, “You lads look up the Red Hot Chilli Pipers on your phones.”

Tim reached for his phone, swiping the picture of Lucille and him with Alpaca Colin. But Lucille touched his hand, making him hesitate.

“I don’t think that would be very suitable, Mr Buckle going to all this trouble with such a delicious menu and Mr Turner all dressed up in the finest regalia and then having some squeaky din coming out of an iPhone.”

“Your right lass, it just won’t do,” supported Phyllis.

“Well, does anyone know a piper?” Fred replied wearily.

“Surely we can find a professional one online?” contributed Julia

“A professional piper that’s free on Burn’s Night at this late notice,” chided Phyllis.

“I know a piper.”

The voice came from the back of the room. Everyone turned to look at the slight dark-haired woman sat on a dining chair. “Well, I think we all do.”

“Do we, Jane?” Julia asked.

“Yes, the busker that stands outside the town hall in Appleby Thornton.”

Everyone started talking at once;

“I only go into town every second Tuesday to get my hair done.”

“Same here I only go through if I have a doctor’s appointment.”

“Well, it’s the cost of the parking isn’t it, it’s free at Tweaven Retail Park and more shops.”

“You can get it on t’internet delivered to your door.”

“I haven’t been since Marks and Spencers closed.”

“Debenhams is closing next week such a shame, that shops older than me, always been a department store in Appleby Thornton.”

“It was one of the first in the country to have a lift, you know.”

Jane cleared her throat. “There are a lot of good things about Appleby Thornton that are not always obvious.”

“Here, here!” chimed in Val, “there is still a Primark.”

“Oh well, let’s be grateful for small mercies,” stung back Trixie.

Much to Delia’s disappointment, Val bit her lip. The ex-nurse and market gardener loved a full house. She cherished her quiet times with Patsy too, but she was the more sociable of the pair. The farm was large enough for Patsy to have her office and art studio and not be disturbed while Delia fussed the alpacas with Reggie. Trixie moving in had been Patsy’s scheme, but Delia was the one who had benefited most from their new project, even if she would never let their new employee know she was a project.

Delia enjoyed listening to Trixie’s anecdotes and gossip. She felt reconnected with a world that was moving so fast. The Two Loves were business women and technology hadn’t passed them by. It was the music, the celebrities, the trashy telly that Patsy despised and Delia loved that made having Trixie and her friends around delight Delia.

Delia’s carer probably wasn’t as up-to-date with pop culture as Trixie and her friend. Val was now a frequent visitor to Mount Busby, as she and their new lodger had struck up quite a friendship. Nurse Bernie always looked a bit behind the door when the other two were in full flow about some reality TV show.

But since Trixie had moved in, Nurse made Delia’s blood pressure check the last visit on her rounds and she drank tea, sitting and chatting with Trixie. Bernie didn’t need to watch Love Island. She had her own romantic paradise in Poplar-on-Tweaven and Delia couldn’t be more happy for her.

Val had bitten her lip, her new friend was still a bit of an enigma to her. She did know Trixie might talk as if she had been born with a silver spoon in her mouth, but in the last few months she had gleaned enough to know that spoon had been tarnished sometime ago. So in spite of all her bravado, Trixie was as familiar with Poundland as she was with Prada.

It was Julia who cut through the chatter. “I believe I am familiar with the young man you are referring to. He has a small dog with him if I am right?”

“Yes, Reverend.” Jane was beginning to believe she had dreamt the piper and maybe also Appleby Thornton.

“He’s rather good, as I remember.”

Jane was beaming as she nodded.

“So problem solved,” Fred rubbed his hands together with glee, “tot of whisky, a bowl of water for the pooch, bob’s your uncle, sorted”

“No, it certainly is not.” Trixie’s tone caused everyone to alter their gaze, “this man is a professional musician surely, if he has a regular spot he has a license. I am sure Chummy is well acquainted with the gentleman and his story. We can ask her.”

Inspector Noakes had been unable to attend the meeting because of work commitments, and Peter’s Tuesday evenings were spent running a youth football team that Jack and Timothy had both enjoyed being a part of. Alas, Tim had become too rangy and prone to injury, and Jack had become too lazy and prone to chips.

Trixie continued, “He deserves an appropriate wage for his efforts.” She turned to Val. “I believe the Crown has an entertainments licence.”

Val nodded and smiled reassuringly at her friend, “Paddy does, leave it with me and I will also make sure he and the mut are fed and provided with transport both ways.”

Trixie relaxed and shared a smile with the aromatherapist sitting at the back of the room. “Do you know his name?”

“Kevin.”

Fred let out a huge sigh. “So we are all sorted then?”

“It would appear so,” replied Lucille, grimacing at Tim.

“Apart from Dad.” groaned Tim.

Followed by an echo of sighs.

“Leave your dad to me, Chick.” winked Val.

#call the midwife #berns night revisited #january 2020 seems like a lifetime ago #hope it has a happy ending #hate those angsty slow burn au fics

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darkmindsotome · 4 years

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Risque Rouge pt10

Tagging: @umbralaperture @otome-smut-queen @silver-fox-of-azuchi @tsundere-mitsuhide @jennacat84

General warnings for the whole fic: Angst, some fluff, Mental health issues, emotional things, trauma, blood, death and possible triggers. Please read responsibly.

Darkmindsotome Masterlist

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Chapter 10

Her inner mantra ran on repeat in her mind reminding her that she was a professional performer. It was fighting what felt like a futile battle to overpower the nerves inside her that were making her feel like her body was locking up as if it were a rusty machine.

“Genevieve?” Comte stood at the head of the table holding out his hand to her as he called for her again. His soothing voice didn’t drown out her inner monologue, it laced with it as naturally as if it simply belonged there and had always been part of her.

Aware of the number of eyes still on her she tried her best to ignore the looks of curiosity as she walked past them to join le Comte. As soon as she was close enough, she placed her hand in his and found the warmth she had missed since his departure from her room. He guided her to a chair that was on his right. It gave her a clear view of the other men who were all in alignment on the opposite side but also meant she was once more in a position closest to him.

Somewhere in the back of her muddled mind, she wondered if this was something he had planned to make sure she felt more at ease or if there was another calculation involved she was still to be informed of.

“There we are.” Comte spoke as he gently pushed her chair under her. “You look wonderful in that dress, far greater than I could have imagined.”

Comte watched as she shuddered at his quiet voice issuing her a well-deserved compliment. He felt a little childish taking delight in such a thing but he maintained his composed smile and returned to his own seat. Taking that to be the signal the other men sat back down as well.

“Thank you, Comte.” Evie ended up blushing at the direct compliment and busied herself with placing her napkin on her lap.

“If all you did was bring us here in order to show off, it could have waited.”

Evie looked up finding a pair of violet eyes giving both her and le Comte an irritated and annoyed glare. Unlike the other men at the table who were simply smiling or looking relaxed this violet-eyed man with white hair simply looked irritated and impatient to leave.

“Ignore him Cara mia, he’s not interested in anything that doesn’t have eighty-eight keys and made out of mahogany.” Leo chuckled at his own joke shrugging off a silent reprimand from Comte who gave him a look known to most children as a parent telling them to behave themselves.

“Pardon?” Her curiosity got the better of her nerves as she pressed for clarification as to why that was somehow humorous.

“Mozart is a composer. Which I suppose leads us nicely into introductions.” Comte expertly navigated the conversation back to the matter of hand and away from the troublesome man to his left who seemed to delight in inventing problems for him. “The gentleman at the far end of the table is Mozart, he tends to keep mostly to himself in the music room.”

“Not that I expect you to be interested in such things but I would prefer it if you could avoid unnecessary noise around my room.” Mozart spoke in a way that was abrupt and slightly condescending.

“You could stand to be a little more friendly.” Leo chided which had the effect of making Mozart almost bristle.

“I refrained from telling her to avoid the room and myself completely that is friendly enough.” Mozart gave a defiant glare for what he felt was an uncalled-for reprimand.

Evie watched the casual back and forth between the two men and wondered if this kind of exchange was commonplace. The two men appeared to be complete opposites. Leo was easy going, friendly and looked a little slovenly. Mozart appeared to be ordered in both his appearance and his movements. He certainly had the attitude of someone passionate in one field and lacking social skills as a result of their dedicated focus.

“A pleasure to meet you… I think.” Evie gave a polite greeting and maintained eye contact with the prickly musician. Mozart held her gaze for a moment before averting his eyes and falling silent.

“Comte tells us you are from outside of the city?” A friendly man with messy short blonde hair struck up a conversation next.

It was almost as if he had sensed the unsure clouds in the atmosphere and was trying to push them back with pure sunshine. The piercing blue eyes were as clear as a summer sky but a hundred times brighter. Evie felt herself feeling like her mood was lighter simply by looking at him.

“Montmartre, it isn’t really that far.” She attempted to amend his question so it sounded a little less like she had been discovered in another country. It was a thought that, had her inwardly laughing as it was fairly obvious that if she had been found somewhere further abroad, she would not stand out in this crowd.

Since arriving she had already met several people who not only spoke with different accents but also reverted to the occasional phrase from their native homelands. She was thankful for once that the broad spectrum of people that found their way to the performing house had at least made her aware of the world beyond the capitol’s limits.

“It must be very nice there.” He smiled and it was like looking directly at a stage light. Evie found herself returning his bright and carefree display naturally as if they were old friends. “Oh! I’m so sorry that’s very rude of me. My name is Vincent, I’m a painter. My brother isn’t here at the minute otherwise I’m sure he’d be happy to meet such a pretty young lady.”

“Thank you, Vincent.” Evie was back to feeling a little uncomfortable at yet another direct compliment. It wasn’t that she was not used to the praise per se, it was more along the lines that these felt more genuine and less like a platitude dealt out like candy after a performance. She also noticed whilst they made her feel a little unsure it was nothing when compared to the comments from a certain someone.

“You should see if Vincent would paint you Cara mia.” Leo piped up with a deadpan expression.

Evie looked wide-eyed at Leo after his suggestion completely, unsure as to how to respond. There were plenty of artistic patrons at the performing house requesting the chance to paint the girls that graced the stage but she had never been approached which was probably thanks in large part to Uncle and his overprotective nature.

Comte glanced at his old friend and was met with a defiant look that was full of curiosity. It was all too clear Leo was enjoying himself and it reminded him of their chance meeting in the hallway previously. Comte suppressed a sigh along with a groan. He would have loved to have shown both expressions, even if it was only to release some of the frustration he was feeling as it grew inside him knowing that Leo was playing games.

“Oh yes! I would love to if you had to the time to sit for me.” Vincent enthusiastically latched on to the idea, giving her a look that was rather difficult to refuse. It was not dissimilar to being stared at by a puppy whilst eating and feeling the desire to cave to its plea and hand over some scraps.

“A painting of me? I’m… erm…” She fumbled her words trying to figure out her reply. It wasn’t that she hated the idea of sitting for a painting, more that she had no idea of what it really meant to be a model. She felt mildly stupid after giving herself a pep talk about how she was a professional performer and then allowing herself to become plagued by a fear of failure.

“Pfft, you just imagined yourself modelling au naturel didn’t you?” Leo’s laughter broke the awkwardness making the situation feel completely outlandish.

“Excuse me!?” Evie cried out her face went pale as she registered what Leo was suggesting and wondering exactly how on earth he would think that she had even thought of that as a possibility to begin with.

She wasn’t the only one to be a little scandalised by the notion. Mozart scoffed muttering something incoherent and looked even more irritated than before. There was a very silent man focusing intently on his tableware that had turned as red as an apple. Comte was doing a rather fine job of glaring at Leo without actually changing his placid expression and Vincent was fidgeting in his seat apologetically even though none of this was actually his fault.

“There really is no need to worry I would never propose such a thing to a young lady, I would be happy to paint you as you are now. The dress is very beautiful on you.” Vincent was looking rather like an uncomfortable child which made Evie feel sorry for him. She was almost certain that Leo was joking and that it was probably done in order to tease her so she did feel responsible for poor Vincent becoming collateral damage.

“Genevieve you already know Leo. We appear to be blessed under a rare star today as it is unusual for him to attend a meal at the table whether I request it or not.” Comte interjected doing little to hide his exasperation.

“I simply felt like it might be fun for a change.” Leo replied smiling like a cat that got the cream.

“Quite! Which brings us to the last of the introductions, Isaac is a physicist.” Comte seemed to work a lot of feeling into the last word he directed at Leo before moving on to introduce the very silent man.

It was a little amusing watching the two men having this kind of interaction. It reminded her a little of the way siblings fought without actually coming to blows. It spoke volumes of the level of closeness they had between them and also had a slightly unexpected result of her feeling a little jealous.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Isaac.” As she addressed him the red-headed man who was still staring intently at the tableware as if it was about to grow legs and wander off looked in her direction.

“Is it?” Isaac fixed her with a calculating gaze as if he were trying to figure out a scientific formula.

“Yes?” Evie tentatively responded to his question that had caught her completely off guard.

“You don’t sound very sure.” Isaac didn’t sound particularly angry or irritated as he replied. His voice sounded almost bored as it was so monotone. She wondered if he was tired or just not used to socialising. It would perhaps have been a bit easier to strike up a conversation with him if she had an idea about what he was interested in.

Given how quiet he was it was difficult to get an idea of what he was like. The way he became lost in thought and focused on things was probably part of the curiosity needed to be whatever a physicist was. She lamented a lack of knowledge that spread further than what she needed to know for performing.

Evie had been given books and a few of the performers had also helped her when she was growing up with understanding things. That was the extent and limitations of her education, just enough to not be completely clueless, but never enough to be able to hold an in-depth conversation on something outside of her remit.

She opened her mouth to reply and quickly forgot what she was about to say when one of the windows to the room was opened from the outside and a pair of feet covered in strange white socks and wooden sandals appeared.

“What’s this? Is my little Apple-kun making friends?” A tall man dressed in what looked like a robe of some sort pulled himself free of the window and corrected his attire. He ran one hand through his black hair as he tucked the other inside his robe at his waist.

Evie wasn’t sure if it was the strange choice of clothing or the way in which they entered the room but she remembered a time when one of the performers managed to lock themselves out of the building during a costume change and how they were too embarrassed to enter through another door.

“I forget how many times I’ve asked you not to call me that.” Isaac complained grumpily and made it very obvious that he desired nothing more than to ignore the new arrival by returning his attentions to the table and began staring so hard at the table cloth it was a wonder it didn’t catch fire.

“Probably the same amount of times Sebas has asked him to use the door.” Leo chuckled. He looked delighted that the room once more balanced on a fine line between chaos and control. It was the same kind of delight Evie thought you might see in someone attending a circus and being told the show was about to start.

She took the opportunity to look at her host and found that he was wearing a smile that looked a little forced. She wished she could be more helpful and defuse some of whatever was troubling him but it was rather difficult to help someone when you didn’t even know where to begin.

As if sensing her looking at him Comte turned his head to return her gaze. She had a troubled look on her face that struck him as rather adorable. It didn’t take a great mind to imagine that the reason for her expression stemmed from a desire to be helpful. She was an extraordinarily kind-hearted young lady. He had seen it during his visits to the performing house but also felt it in every tear she shed that night after that unfortunate experience.

“Dazai sensei…” Sebastian spoke clearly in a firm tone that was acknowledged by the new arrival and promptly ignored with a display of obliviousness that boarded on obtuse.

Evie watched as such a simple manoeuvre was executed so masterfully. It could not help but succeed in its desired intention of avoiding being scolded whilst also laying down just enough groundwork to prevent any further discussion on the matter by making it appear to be completely pointless because the man they were trying to correct continued to be unaware of any wrongdoing.

She felt a little bad for imagining the new man was this sneaky but also couldn’t ignore her own instincts. Evie made a mental note that just because these men happened to be guests of le Comte she would still have to keep her eyes open.

“Oh dear, I appear to have arrived late.” The black-haired man looked around at the gathering his eyes looking at the spread of food on the table that was yet to be touched before looking in Evie’s direction as if he had only just noticed her. “And who is?”

“This is Genevieve. Genevieve, Dazai is a writer.” Comte helped supply yet another name to a new face as he slipped a pocket watch from his waistcoat and checking the time.

“A writer? Anything I am likely to have read?” Evie’s prior warning to herself fell rather spectacularly to the wayside as her enthusiasm for books took over.

“That depends Toshiko-san can you read kanji?” Dazai took their seat next to Isaac much to the other man’s thinly masked irritation. His yellow eyes crinkled in mirth as he smiled at her and she was unsure if he was delighted by Isaac’s reaction or her own.

“Kanji?” Evie ignored Dazai’s use of the wrong name, assuming he was either playing a game of misdirection or was simply terrible with names and focused more on the unfamiliar word.

In all fairness she was not exactly familiar with a lot of the foreign words these men used but they were usually a little easier to figure out a basic idea about what they meant from the context of the conversation. She was once more reminded of why she had tried to warn herself of the tricky nature of some people as she sat there in confusion.

“He is referring to written Japanese Mademoiselle.” Sebastian assisted in clearing up the matter as he placed a cup of milk tea next to her and returned to his tea set to pour another for le Comte. She had not noticed him until he had spoken to her but a quick look at the other men seated at the table showed he had been busy serving them all while she was distracted.

“Oh, erm, no I am sorry to say I can’t.” Evie lowered her eyes feeling embarrassed as if he was drawing attention to her lack of knowledge. It was probably a completely unintentional result that had everything to do with her growing sense of inferiority but it did not change her current mood.

“Dazai we are here for introductions and luncheon, could you refrain from making my newest guest uncomfortable?” Comte found her hand on the table and placed his over it giving it a pat as he did so. Her eyes followed the flow of his hand to his arm right the way up until she was once more looking into his eyes forgetting some of her tension looking at his smile. “Genevieve the roast beef is deliciously tender and I highly recommend the quiche. Sebastian, you’ve outdone yourself once more.”

“Thank you, Monsieur le Comte.” Sebastian gave a small bow that seemed to indicate that luncheon was to commence.

---

The heavy door was like one used on a well-protected wine cellar or a catacomb and when they pulled it the noise of happy chaos surrounded them like the smoke from their cigarettes. Of all the places to meet they had no idea why it had to be in such a location. As they descended the staircase they were hit with the smell of several scents at once that reminded them of just how myopic the world of cattle could be. Simple creatures that were little more than slaves to their baser instincts.

There was a long bar set up with bottles of various liquors that was also well stocked with people in various stages of inebriation balanced on tall stools. A burst of laughter drew their attention to a gaggle of women fawning over two men. One looked more than happy for the attention the other appeared to be glaring at the females for daring to get in the way of them and their drink. There was a scent of strong perfumes and rich foods that made their stomach turn.

Pursuits of pleasure beyond what was necessary held no interest to them at all. Everyone had a past and theirs had taught them the dangers in chasing that level of desire. It was a path fuelled by lust that led to a life fraught with judgement and persecution. It was not an experience they wished to relive no matter how sweet the call back to the darker side of temptation was.

Ignoring the small group of inebriated pleasure seekers, they looked around the room for their associate and found them propping up a corner of the bar in the furthest corner. If they had been accused of being a person of mystery when it came to descriptions beyond their general appearance then this man was the perfect spectre.

Everything about them was a calculated addition in an unwritten formula that produced the perfect average, non-descript person that quite literally fades into a crowd.

“You kept me waiting.” Their master spoke loud enough for them to hear whilst hunched over the edge of the bar one hand holding his glass over its rim as he rocked it watching the amber liquid inside move like a wave on the ocean.

“I’m sorry I was following up on a promising lead and forgot the time.” Slipping on to a stool next to the bored-looking man they were then presented with a matching glass of amber liquid.

“I trust you got more out of your avenue of interest than a full stomach?” The man let a dry chuckle escape them as they picked up their glass and drained its contents in one go.

Momentarily lost in awe they found themselves watching the man thinking that this is exactly what made them a master in their craft. In a matter of seconds, it was as if all secrets had been laid bare and had already been calculated into a plan of action in order to move forward. It meant that conversations flowed easily but also left a rather unpalatable taste in the mouth knowing you were serving a purpose but also superfluous to requirements.

“Enough.” They adjusted their suit unsure if the comment was made from an observation out their appearance or a lingering scent. “It appears our mutual interest has taken on another.”

“Interesting but hardly something that will be a major Achille’s heel.” The master signalled the bartender and received another dram of whiskey.

Alcohol did little for them as a rule, but there were still aspects of it they could enjoy even as a vampire. The dryness, the scent, the subtle changes in flavours from the multiple types of brewing and distillation. They watched their master take another sip of their new drink and imagined the variations of alcohols, ages, locations, treatments were not dissimilar to blood and found their own mouth-watering at the idea.

“That is where you might be wrong. This one is a female.” They passed on the information they knew and took a sip of their own drink. The liquid felt thin as it slipped over their tongue and ran down their throat.

“Female? Well, now that is interesting, very interesting indeed.” A smile came to their master’s lips as he placed his empty glass down and turned to him. “What are your plans now?”

“To follow orders naturally. I was sent to observe and inform, I shall continue…”

“No.” The master cut off his lackey before he could finish.

“Then what would you have me do, Lord Amos?”

Ideas were forming in the gloom of his mind that shifted shadows into place like pieces on a board. Part of what made him the best, that kept him employed and sought after was his ability to think freely. To make calculated guesses that could be reported back and acted upon later. This was one of those times and he wasn’t a master for nothing.

“Await my orders like a good little pawn, I shall have to consult with the other party and see what actions they wish to take now.” Amos placed some coins on the bar that would cover the cost of drinks for most of its occupants and then pulled on a hooded leather jacket. “You did well, Latour. I’ll be in touch.”

---

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platinumsupa · 5 years

Note

Diakko highschool AU maybe?

(but isn’t it already a…?

in any case! Here’s a diakko high school au! Diana may be the popular girl at school, but unfortunately for her, she’s ended up head over heels for a certain someone at the exact opposite end of the bell curve…

1700 words, so it’s a bit long, but that’s because I was having fun with it, sorry~ ^ ^;)

Diana was what people would call the popular girl.

Student Council president, top of the class, head of theDance Squad, and she was perhaps the prettiest in school to boot, or so that’s whatpeople told her. Boys who were unaware of things often tried to ask her out, orat the very least sit with her and hope she looked their way. Every time shewould respectfully decline, which seemed to just add to her reputation as an unattainable beauty.

Akko was a new transfer student here at school. She was continuously almostbeing kicked out of the lacrosse team because she couldn’t keep her grades up,and when she wasn’t getting into very loud, fiery conversations with herteammates, she was usually getting into trouble with teachers. Last week, Diana watched ahalf-asleep Akko walk face first into a doorframe.

And Diana had noidea how to talk to this girl without feeling like a complete moron, because god, she had it bad.

How did she let it get this out of control? She really couldn’t say.

The first time Diana saw Akko, she was walking home with fellowclub members Hannah and Barbara, and they all stopped when they saw a short Asiangirl up in a tree, tangled in tree branches. And they watched, slack jawed, asthe branch broke from under her and she came tumbling down hard to the grass.

In her arms was a small black cat. In a show of gratitude toits rescuer, it clawed at Akko’s hands and took off running back home. Akkotook a moment to suck on her bleeding pinky before she finally noticed the threeof them looking down at her on the ground.

“Hi there!” She said, still on the ground. “I’m Kagari Atsuko, but everyone just callsme Akko. What’s up?”

Hannah and Barbara laughed at her, and Akko grumbled, simplystanding up and rubbing the dirt off her sleeves, watching the cat’s rapidly retreatingtail.

Diana’s heart started pounding, for some reason.

Some time later, Akko had talked back to Finnelan and landedherself an after school detention. Diana had found her alone in the classroom,not cleaning like she was supposed to. She took no notice of Diana there, becauseAkko was too singing along to an anime theme song playing through herheadphones and dancing with her mop like it was a microphone.

Diana spent all night thinking about it.

And then soon after, Diana absently looked over in Mathclass, and spent a good five minutes staring as Akko glued plastic gemstonesto her lacrosse stick in the shape of the Big Dipper. By that point, through nochoice of her own, Diana was definitelyvery interested.

Because Akko had a very cute face, not to mention such a passion in her voice, and a swagger inher step, and one would think a student in the running for some of the most prestigiousscholarships in the country wouldn’t be so stupidly useless, but here Diana was,her standards dropping like an elevator with its cables cut.

She spent a good portion of Mrs. Lukić’s science classtrying to keep her attention on the slides, and not the opposite table whereAkko was doodling in her notebook. To the point where she almost didn’t evenhear Mrs. Lukić’s announcement.

“Why don’t you all get with a partner and work through someof the problems on the board?”

Most students simply immediately went with the same friendsthey always did. Frank looked in Diana’s direction hopefully, as did Hannah andBarbara who sought to make a group of three, but Diana only had eyes for oneperson.

“So.” Diana said, standing over table. “You don’t appear tohave a partner at the moment. Allow me to help you.”

“Partner?” Akko looked up from her notebook and cocked herhead. “Wait, we’re doing group stuff?”

“You should really pay better attention. It would be problematicif you failed, especially in regard to your games, would it not?”

Akko huffed. “I don’t need you to tell me that. I can keepmy grades up just fine on my own!”

“I was not saying you couldn’t. But in any case, the teacherintends for us to work in pairs for this assignment, so…”

Akko shoved her things to the side of the table to give Dianaa place to set her own notebook down, and the blonde gracefully took her seat.She looked calm and serene, which was surprising given the frantic thoughts runningthrough her head.

It didn’t surprise either of them how begrudgingly Akko wentthrough the questions, with Diana mostly just trying to convince her of the valueof hard work as an extant concept. In about five minutes, the most they hadmanaged to accomplish was putting both their names down on top of the paper.

“I just don’t get why teachers like to cram us with allthese little assignments…” Akko said, twirling her pencil around. “I mean, sheprobably won’t even check this at the end, so it’s a little pointless, isn’tit?”

“They’re not pointless.It’s important to have practice with these concepts if you’re going to understandthem for the exams.”

“Yeah, but her instructions make no sense anyway. What even is this stupid equation she wants us todo? Like it’s all these weird G’s and x’s…how do you keep these straight?”

Diana glanced down at Akko’s notebook. Interspersed throughall the cutesy doodles, Akko had made an attemptto copy down the equations Lukić wrote on the board. Though not all of them, andwith one of the most crucial ones, she had simply stopped halfway through.

“Take this one for example, Akko.” She gestured to it. “It’sover r squared, not just over r.”

“What? But she said…”

“Here, if think of it more like this, it should make iteasier to follow.”

What happened next was mostly Diana’s fault. She neverreally did group projects, so shewasn’t even thinking when she started writing in her notebook in front of herwithout moving it. She actually had caught herself and was about to tilt thepage so Akko could actually see what she was doing, but Akko had already leanedover, unintentionally pressing their shoulders together.

(Diana’s heart was pounding again. Mother would be ashamedif she knew how weak her baby girl had become…)

“Oohhh! Is that how you’re supposed to do it?” Akko asked, eithernot noticing or not caring that she was all but leaning atop of the other girl.“That’s not how they taught it at my last school. Weird.”

“It…” Diana nodded. “I suppose I can imagine some of the…erm,letters and such and such might change depending on the…the language. That’s whyit’s important to practice, after all.”

“Yeah, but you did a better job explaining it than Mrs. Lukićdid. I guess I’ll have to remember this way for later then. Thanks.”

Akko took her notebook for a moment so she could copy downthe explanation into her own notes, and she quickly flashed Diana a gratefulsmile as she settled back into her own seat.

(oh god, her hair smelled really nice.)

“Think nothing of it,” is what Diana said at last. “…So.Aside from this, how have you been…adjusting to the new school?”

Akko simply shrugged. “It’s okay, I guess. I miss my oldfriends, but I met a lot of nice people here already, so it’s not so bad. Yourguys’ lacrosse team is a lot better than my old one at least!”

“You enjoy lacrosse then?” And what a shockingly goodquestion to ask her that was, because obviously she carried the stick aroundjust for fun.

But thankfully, Akko leapt at the chance to talk. “It’s the greatestsport there is! We’re totally gonna be going to nationals soon, I’m sure of it!I’m gonna be the best player on the entire team before the end of the year.”

“That’s…a lofty goal. But it’s good to set your sights high.After all, you don’t get the things you dream of, you get the things you workfor.”

Akko gasped excitedly at the lyric. “Oh my gosh, do you listento Chariot’s albums too?!”

“I’ve…overheard a song or two, yes. I just thought it seemedrelevant to the conversation.”

Akko laughed out loud. “You know, you’re a nicer person thanI thought, Diana! We should do more group stuff together some time!”

“Oh, that would be nice. I’d really like to spend more timegetting to know you better.”

“Really…?” Akko looked at her curiously.

Diana clamped her mouth shut. The calm expression she tried to take was betrayed by the visiblyhot blush spreading across her features.

No, she couldn’t lose her calm here. Friends could want toget to know each other better too, after all. Right? And every second she sather staring silently at Akko made her look more guilty. All she needed to dowas calmly explain what she meant in that context.

“I-”

“5 more minutes!” Lukić called out. “I expect you all to haveeverything answered…”

Akko quickly snapped back to her. “Oh shoot, we gotta finishour assignment, right?”

“Right. Right, the assignment.”

Diana picked up her pencil and set to work, and after a moment,Akko tossed Diana’s notebook back with the rest of Diana’s stuff, and set to helpingher finish.

Fortunately, they managed to finish all the questions intime.

After the assignments were collected, everyone returned totheir seats. And as for Diana, she spent much of the remainder of class stewingin her own gay frustration. She must have run through the entire conversationin her head 5 times a minute, picking apart every stupid thing she said. Shewas supposed to be good at speech,how did she do so bad at talking to one person? Akko must think she’s an idiotnow.

Lukić told them to remember to bring their textbooks fornext class, and Diana moved to write it in her notebook. But she paused, lookingat the top margin.

That note written there…that definitely was not her handwriting.She looked at the note more closely. It read;

‘got a game Friday at4pm!! you should come cheer me on! :3

Akko ♪’

Diana could not stop the grin from taking over her face. Hannahand Barbara would never understand the intensity in which she stared at thescribble at the top of the page.

She spent the rest the night trying to lay the perfectoutfit out for Friday.

#fanfic #writing #little witch academia #I know i'm slow at these but i'll definitely finish all of them so no worries #diakko #diana cavendish #akko kagari

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bookishnerdhero · 5 years

Text

ROTBTD - OUAT AU Episode 2 (Part 2)

REVISED. I forgot it was supposed to be a snow day and tweaked this a bit. I also placed the former Part 3 in here since both parts were short.

Note: Bit of a short one for now! But still here! This fic still exists! And hopefully the fandom ;)

If you came here not having read the first Episode then you might want to check that one out first. Here's the LINK to the very first post for this Fic. Otherwise this part is pretty confusing.

ROTBTD - The Big Four – OUAT AU

Hugo

Hugo balanced the book in his lap while sitting under a snow covered tree, already absorbed in the story of a Viking choosing to learn about the dragons instead of seeing them as an enemy. Somehow he identified with the hero, even if he wasn’t sure he’d ever defended anything in that same way, other than the occasional attempt at standing up for his friend, Freddie, and any other fellow nerd (though silently). He continued to quietly marvel at the illustration of the Viking boy with his hand outstretched, palm up, as the dragon reluctantly bowed its forehead to him.

Okay, but no way does this guy look like me, he thought, assessing just how scrawny the boy was drawn, thin arms, legs, and a shirt that seemed much too big for him secured by a belt. Okay maybe a little like him. He wouldn’t have known this was supposed to be a Viking boy if the text didn’t include it. Weren’t Vikings supposed to be all big and brawn and intimidating, rah, rah rah? And then there was the dragon which didn’t even look like your typical European dragon guarding the cave full of treasures, nor did it look like those cool Chinese dragons that represented rivers in stories he’d read. If anything its head was too oval, like a dark watermelon with a little snout, and his eyes were big in its face like a cat’s. But the dragon really did look like the one in his dreams, whatever type it was supposed to be derived from in imagination. The Night Fury. He could even remember, in great detail, what it felt like to ride the dragon in the dream, even though he wasn’t exactly sure what he looked like in it. Dreams were weird that way anyway, he considered, you weren’t really sure if you were an omniscient observer or a character playing a part in the dream. One thing’s for sure is that there’s something happening and the information is clear as memory a little while after he wakes up and is able to gather his thoughts.

His attention and gaze were too fixated on the book that he didn’t really see his surroundings. Naturally, he got hit in the head by a tennis ball.

"Sorry!" came a voice, approaching, as Hugo rubbed at the spot at the side of his head. Somehow it seemed fitting that this sort of thing would bring him back out of his little fantasy of being that Viking hero. He took off his glasses, only then realizing how smudged the lenses were all this time, checked if it’s still in one piece, and then attempted to wipe the snow off with the hem of his shirt. Blurry eyes squinted at the legs of a girl in gray leggings and snow boots and then looked up quickly in case she’d think something of it. She must’ve been playing Tennis because she carried a racket over her shoulders and, when he picked up the ball that broke him from his reverie, it was, in fact, small, lime green, and Tennis-ball like. In this weather? At the same time Hugo readjusted his glasses.

"I’m really sorry. I was—“

Their eyes met—sky blue against earth green—and for a split second there was a moment of recognition that Hugo couldn't place. The girl wore an aquamarine sweater over a white collared polo shirt. She had hair that was a mass of wild curly red, like a crackling flame in the middle of the grayscale day. He suddenly felt self-conscious.

"Playing tennis," she continued.

Hugo noticed there was nobody else around.

"By yourself? And in this weather?"

"Aye, I'm trying to find my next sport." She had a distinct Scottish accent and spoke a bit as if she was out of breath. "And the weather's not that bad." Her face was flushed and her wide blue eyes had a cheery light in them, the kind you’d expect to see in someone about to chortle. She seemed like the type of person who was capable of chortling. He wasn’t sure what to make of it.

"What happened to the old one?" he said, realizing he sounded monotone and must’ve looked deadpan. If not a little too nerdy, still-getting-used-to-the-voice voice.

"Got bored with it. I seem to be good at a lot but champion of none,” she responded. She had the ball in her hand but she was still talking to him and didn't seem to be in a hurry to leave. If anything she looked like she wanted to sit down. “I want to know which one will make me feel free."

He thought about how she said it. Mostly he wondered why he'd never noticed her there earlier because, well, she was cute.

"Free?"

"Aye, like adventure free. Getting away from the mundane free, more like."

She was still talking to him and his voice was still the same boring drone! Why was this cute girl still talking to him? Why was he complaining? Add a little variety, Hugo. Keep the conversation going! He cleared his throat.

"Track and Field? Hiking? Definitely a lot of getting away and freedom in that."

She smiled. Did she find him amusing? "Have I seen you before?"

He thought the same, but wasn't about to jump up and announce it. Instead he said, “If you mean, skulking in a corner somewhere, then maybe yes. That could be me."

She laughed. She laughed. "Sorry bout' your head again, er...?"

His name? Did she want his name?

"It's alright. I tend to be a magnet for trouble." What was that? He mentally kicked himself. "I mean, I get hit on the head a lot so there's nothing to worry about. Not that anyone's hitting me in the head, no. People are generally good to me. Ignoring me and pretending I don't exist to disappoint but-" Why am I still talking? "I'm a klutz."

"Really?"

Hugo pursed his lips in that way that made his cheeks bunch up and shrugged.

"But what is your name though, klutz boy? I was just going to ask."

"Hu-Hugo. It's Hugo." He blushed.

"H-Hugo? Really? Do you always hiccup your name that way?"

"No, I was just stuttering."

She laughed again. Ask her for her name, genius!

"Erm...so..."

"Mairi," she said. "Mairi Reid. My friends call me Mair, though."

"Mair."

For some reason this was happening and he didn’t have the presence of mind, nor the will power, to ask her what it was all about, why she bothered to ask for his name at all. Not that it automatically meant anything. Not that maybe she was interested in him. It was probably just polite conversation for hitting him in the head with a Tennis ball. That was probably it. He couldn’t help noticing how she looked at him, a fierce stare that shot straight.

She had just turned to leave when he mumbled, "How about Archery?"

"What?" Her eyes were wide.

"Archery? Have you considered Archery? It's, you know, probably a lot of fun. Maybe even liberating."

"Hmm. I do have good hand eye coordination. I never miss."

"You just hit me in the head with a tennis ball."

She winked at him and then left him stunned with the realization.

"See you around, H-Hugo."

He had a funny smile on his face when he turned the page of the book and there's an illustration of the young Viking riding the dragon.

Past

“We should be safe here,” Merida said, settling herself and her bow against the wall of a cave. Her hair was damp from the spray of the falls and her heart had just about relaxed at finding a place to hide. Hiccup guided Toothless, who didn’t seem to have a problem with the relative darkness, inside and scrambled next to Merida. The sun had already started to set outside

“Good, because I think we all need a breather, don’t you?” Hiccup said, heaving as he adjusted his position on the cave floor and picked away at a rock he accidentally sat on. He, then, placed a hand on Merida’s shoulder. She could only barely see the details of his face in the dark. “You okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be? We’re on the run. It’s exciting.” If he’d notice the way it sounded half-meant he didn’t, couldn’t, show it either. She’d always wanted adventure, ran after it on a most awaited day and daydreamed about it when she was stuck in the castle with princess lectures. This kind of running, with a young Viking, a dragon, and clans of men hunting them down, was just the kind of thing she would’ve expected herself to like, and yet she wasn’t as excited. Her fate was changing, she could feel it. But wherever it was leading her she wasn’t about to go anywhere without the person sitting next to her now.

“Is it just me or is it too cold here in this cave? Freezing cold?” Merida shivered as if to emphasize her point. It was a welcome distraction away from her lingering doubts about leaving Dunbroch. Hiccup scooted a bit and placed an arm over her shoulder. It wasn’t as awkward a gesture as his usual attempts at being romantic, probably because it comes naturally out of concern. She snuggled closer, pulling her legs against her chest.

“I’m used to it.” Hiccup rubbed at her shoulder just as Toothless curled as gracefully as he could next to Merida, breathing through his nostrils to give her warmth. “We should probably light a fire.”

“The smoke would be seen.” Merida was quick to shake her head.

“We can’t stay here very long. Maybe we could leave in the middle of the night. They’d be tired eventually.”

She nodded a bit, then sat up straight, only just realizing another complication. “Except they’d all know I’ve gone by now. The search party would be endless.”

She felt the heavy rise and fall of Hiccup’s chest. He shifted in his seat.

“I was thinking,” he said slowly, “of taking you back up to the castle before I left.”

“What?” She pulled herself away. “No. It’s too risky. We’re trying to get you away from the clans not back to them. And what makes you think I want to go back? Didn’t I follow you?”

It was dark but she could see Hiccup’s silhouette with what little light the setting sun provided and he was raking his fingers through his hair in frustration.

“Maybe you shouldn’t have followed me.”

“You said!” her voice grew angrier, she could tell. It echoed. “You said you were waiting for me. If you didn’t want me to follow you then you should’ve left!”

“I said I was waiting in case you were following me. Merida, this is just the kind of thing I had a feeling you’d do.” Her mouth fell open. If he could see her well enough he’d see fire in her eyes enough to keep both of them warm in the stupid cave.

“What? What kind of thing?”

“This! You said so yourself, there is going to be search parties looking for you! And all the clans and young lords, I suppose?” His voice took on his usual ramble but it was annoying with the tone of condescension instead of cute. “How was that going to help?”

“I didn’t want there to be. Who knows if they even noticed anyway? I just assumed!”

“Sure, no one’s bound to notice you’re gone.”

Merida threw her hands up and groaned, mirroring his frustrated hair-raking gesture. “That’s not fair. I make my own decisions, Hiccup, alright? I chose you!” She said it as if ‘I’, ‘chose’, and ‘you’ were in three different sentences of their own.

“It’s…it’s not about that.” He faltered, clearly not expecting her to confess with such passion and certainly not during an argument. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make it sound like I’m telling you what you can and can’t do. I’m just…I shouldn’t even have been an option.”

“Well you are,” she said with an added huff. “Besides, it’s not like I make much of a difference if I’m there. My mum’s got it handled.”

There was no denying that deep down it felt like she was just abandoning her kingdom until things died down with the other clans and her mum would finally be forced to tell them that the princess won’t go through any sort of arranged marriage at all. Ever. As much as Hiccup was her choice, back at home she was practically left with no other choice but to follow her stubbornness. No amount of years and growing up would do the job. She couldn’t just accept, grow to love whoever is ‘right’ in time. She didn’t expect breaking tradition was this hard, let alone extreme. It would be so much easier if she could ask him to stay. If he could stay.

“Oh, come on. What if your kingdom needs you?” Hiccup was more careful now. He really did believe she was meant for something great and that she could do it all by being her version of a princess, she could tell. If only they could just be. Just the two of them.

“Do you really want me to go back where I’d have to make the decision of who I’m going to marry?” She wasn’t sure if she was more irritated, amused or just plain tired at the fact. Merida hugged her legs closer to her again, prompting her chin against her hands. “My kingdom made it clear what purpose I have for it.”

Hiccup was silent for a moment. Toothless was either watching, waiting for them intently in the dark or already asleep.

“You do realize what this looks like?” Hiccup said.

“What what looks like?”

“Like I’d kidnapped you, little do they know this basically counts as eloping.”

Merida snorted. Hiccup moved slowly in the ever growing darkness and tried to reach for her face. She felt his fingers tug absently at the damp mess of curly hair.

“Aye, I was never ready for an arranged marriage before,” Merida whispered, surely staring at the way what little light they had casted the outline of Hiccup’s face. “I realize I would never be ready ever. I’d fallen in love with no prince.”

“A Viking? Of all things.” Hiccup thought out loud. Almost playful. “What would your people say?”

“They should’ve known I’d follow my heart and my own time, and my heart’s getting really impatient. It wants to be with you.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Maybe we do get to decide. Maybe we can forget where we’re from because of this. We can just be…this.” Her fingers intertwined with his, and she knew it was all a bunch of the sappy silliness that they were feeling when they were alone together. The lot of things she’d been saying, she wouldn’t have pegged herself to be the type to come up with them before. But she felt like she could be anything with him, most especially herself.

She had just fumbled enough in the dark to think he was closing in for a kiss, but he moved away, sat back and just seemed to consider her.

“We’ve been branded as invaders for so long,” Hiccup said, all serious again. “Much as I’m all for being with you, I have a responsibility to Berk.”

Something about that stung and it took her a second to process before biting back. He was standing up and she didn’t know why that sudden act alone made her jumpy. .

“As have I to our kingdom, we’ve established, but don’t you get it? I’m not just considering throwing it away for nothing. I’m doing this for you. For me. For us. I want us to have a chance to find a better path.”

“I’m that nothing, Merida. Maybe we should think about this first.”

She was on her feet before she could do that thinking he suggested.

“Oh, don’t start with me now. I know that. I know we need to think about it. Which is why I need you to help me…think of a way we can be together without…without you leaving.” There! It had to be said as well.

“I don’t exactly have a choice. Like you said, all the other clans are after me. I can’t just forget about Berk, I have people who expect me to lead…even if I’m not sure how to, dragons to take care of.”

“And Astrid.” She sounded whinier than she’d intended. Luckily he couldn’t have seen her face at all, otherwise he would have seen the immaturity in her expression. It wasn’t just his previous romantic relationship, but he had other friends who were important to him too. A father, a family. It was a little too late now, she was blinded by the jealousy that was too apparent and one she’d kept stamping down for too long.

“Why? Why does this keep coming up? You know that’s over, Mer, can we not bring this up right now? She isn’t even part of the issue.”

“Then what is the issue? It’s not like I’m making you pick between me and Berk, I’m just asking you to consider that maybe there’s a way where we can have both.”

“Well, if there is we can’t see it now by being together for too long. We both have to go back.” It was lucky she couldn’t see his expression. It was lucky he couldn’t see hers. It was bad enough hearing how they argued so easily. Why did she let it get this far? Why couldn’t she stop feeling for a second a think about how to fix this?

“You expect me to just go back and forget whatever happened between us?”

“That’s not what I—“

“Fine.” No. Because maybe it was hopeless. It was too desperate, a cry for help and compromise, but maybe she knew from the start. Maybe she wanted this argument. She was already in the process of leaving, grabbing her bow, clenching her fists, and overcome by emotions as he continued to ramble on. This was getting them nowhere. It already hurts.

He was clearly ready to give up what they have to hopelessness and so was she.

She had tears in her eyes but she rubbed them away with her sleeves hastily, then huffed. She wanted to be angry instead of desperate. She needed to be furious instead of wanting so much to beg him to stay because she knew they couldn’t make the rest of the world adjust so that they could be together.

The climb down was difficult and messy since she tended to stumble and scrape her knees and arms with the rate at which she moved. Hiccup was probably looking down at her or at war with himself whether to let her cool off or come after her on Toothless. It was almost cruel the way she went off, considering he couldn’t just chase her with his leg the way it was.

She made it to a ledge, wide enough for her to sit and rest. It gave her a moment to cry. And that’s when she noticed a wisp appear a few feet away from her, blueish light unmistakable in the dark.

She followed it and it led her to the Dark One.

“I suppose fate has led you to me then. In need of a bargain?”

(End of Part 2)

Episode 1

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Episode 2

Part 1

Tag List: @rose-sparks13 @beautifulslimezonkpaper @rosesnvines@jewishicequeen @hiddenwriterspirit @shiroi-majo

Just let me know in the comments if you want to be tagged!

Thanks for reading!

#the big four ouat au #the big four fanfiction #rotbtd #mericcup #jelsa #jackunzel #fanfiction #rise of the brave tangled dragons #rotbtd au #rotbtd fandom

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yellowmagicalgirl · 7 years

Text

With the Distance Amplified Chapter One

And Now the Silence Screams

Chapter Summary: A few months after the battle with Zarkon and Katie’s disappearance, the paladins get a distress paladin from the Black Lion. They rescue a quartet of prisoners; one of them is not whom they expect.

Heavily inspired by @sabertoothwalrus‘s age swap au.

Do not tag as Sh*eth.

Both chapter title and fic title come from “Frequency” by Starset.

“I hope that was effective enough for them,” Matt said as he slumped in his chair in front of the dinner table. They had done another Voltron event, which had been packed. Unfortunately, this had also attracted the Galra. The Robeast that they had fought had, in addition to way too much armor, a rather annoying power that the other ones had had for the past couple of weeks. It was similar to the Kromar device, in that it was able to manipulate the quintessence of the paladins. That had made the battles even more tiring than they had been, what with Katie being gone and Lotor’s games of cat and mouse.

He stared at the food goo on his plate, trying not to fall asleep. He was tired, but he still had several hours of programming to do. More modification of algorithms, fine tuning to find his family and Keith. There were also the various projects he had been working on, although many of them were probably going to have to be pushed aside, other than the documentation of Lotor’s tactics. Matt was just glad that, so far, they hadn’t had to fight Lotor and a Robeast at the same time.

“We fought a giant monster in front of them, and didn’t get too beat up in the meantime!,” Lance said. “We always look great, but in that case we looked even -”

“-Meet me in the control room!” Shiro said rather suddenly, bolting from his chair.

“Wait, what? We just sat down,” Hunk said. “Is this an emergency? If not, can we please wait until after dinner?”

“Black’s sending me a signal,” Shiro called over the shoulder. “Something along the lines of ‘old paladin attack base danger’?” The other paladins stood up for their chairs and began to follow him. “That means that either Zarkon is doing something bad enough to get her attention, or Katie is…” He turned around and shrugged.

“Are you getting any coordinates? If so, I can start a wormhole,” Allura said.

“Um, one tic.” Shiro turned around as he bit his lip in concentration. “Okay, so Black isn’t sending me the coordinates, but she’s going to send them to Blue, who will send them to you.”

Once suited up, Hunk pulled up the scanners. “Okay, so we don’t have any new transmissions from the Blade, so either this is sudden or they haven’t been able to get any leaks.”

“I have the coordinates from Blue,” Allura said. “We’ll be wormholing to an area that is approximately half a xaral away. If it’s Zarkon, I don’t want to be led into a trap.”

It was a quick jump, only a few doboshes, which led them to a star with four gas giants orbiting it. The second one from the star, while it didn’t have any rings, did have several moons that looked to be only slightly smaller than the planet Mars. The smallest of those moons, upon closer look, had metal plating on one of its sides as if it had been built up to be a base.

“Shiro, is that moon our target?” Matt asked, barely sitting in his chair.

“So I, erm, we still don’t know what the nature of this is,” Shiro said as he stood up and faced the team. “Everyone, get to your lions, but be careful. And Matt, well, sort of. Part of me really gets the feeling that that’s no moon.” The elder Paladin groaned at the reference as he jogged to the entrance of the Red Lion’s hangar.

“Are you sure?” Allura said as she pulled her hair up. “According to its chemical makeup and overall structure, it seems like a natural satellite of the planet.”

“We are definitely going to make a detour to Earth after this and watch Star Wars,” Lance said.

“Hunk, Allura, scan the base for architecture and biosignatures,” Shiro said when they departed the Castle of the Lions. The Blue lion let out one of its sonic blasts, and the Green lion paused as its’ eyes seemed to grow more of a yellow-green.

“It seems fairly simple,” Allura said hurriedly. “It’s pretty much uniform, in fact. Just hallways and small rooms. Anything from Black?”

“Nothing new.”

“Katie? You there?” Lance asked as he opened a com to her helmet.

“Knowing the Galra, they probably wouldn’t leave her with her helmet,” Allura said.

“Aside from for torture purposes,” Matt said. He gripped the handles like they were kitchen knives, as if he could just reach out and stab the druids like they were slabs of meat.

“I’ve got twenty or so lifeforms; most of them are heading towards the eastern side,” Hunk said. “I think Green’s scanners are broken or something, though. They’re saying that there’s half a Galra, one and nine twentieths of humans, and a whole lot of Alteans.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Shiro said. “We still have to -”

“Kates, don’t!” a voice called out as the Paladins heard the sound of wind. All of this was highly distorted by static.

The Black lion’s incessant thoughts went silent.

A single ship streaked out from the base. It was small, and beat up looking, but it was clearly Galra.

Matt fired Red’s main laser just behind the ship as a warning shot.

“Voltron, do’ya read us?” a different voice said. “If so, could’ya stop shooting at us?”

“Guys, that’s Katie’s comm,” Lance said.

“How did you get my sister’s frequency?” Matt said. While he trained Red’s lasers on the ship, he didn’t fire.

“I’m sorry, Matt,” the first voice cut in. Their voice was somewhat familiar, and it had a slight rasp to it, as if they weren’t used to talking. “The Druids took her before we could get out. She gave us her helmet so we could contact you.”

Shiro licked his lips. It took a couple of tries before he could form words due to how familiar the first voice. “Do you know if there were any other prisoners left on the base?”

“They’ve beyond helping,” the second voice said. “They’ve practically Robeasts themselves. In the non-thinking way, not the power way.”

“We’re going to escort you to the Castle of the Lions,” Shiro said. “There we can get you healed. Um, how many of you are there?”

“Four,” the first voice said.

Matt opened a private comm. “Guys, I know it’s petty since they’re prisoners, but I don’t trust the first of the two that spoke. I don’t like how he knew my name.”

“Maybe Ka… maybe she said something about you?” Lance said.

“Hunk said there were Alteans on that ship,” Allura said. “We have to go after them!”

“Not to mention that they have my sister.”

“We’re too late,” Shiro said. “Black’s gone quiet; she did so when that guy screamed out her, well, maybe it’s a nickname?”

“Um, actually, guys? They’re gone,” Hunk cut in before Allura could go and attempt to rescue the multitude of Alteans.

“What do you mean, they’re gone?” Allura asked.

“I dunno, it’s like they disappeared or something? Maybe they teleported, like with a Teleduv! Either way, they’re not showing up on Green’s scanners.”

“Let’s get back to the castle and help the prisoners she freed,” Shiro said, ignoring the general feeling of dissatisfaction that everyone, including himself, felt.

When the ships landed in the main hangar, Coran was already there. “I brought a stretcher, in case any of them was unable to walk. Of course, I wouldn’t have minded them saying so, but I’ll cut them some slack.”

The first of the aliens to stumble out of the Galra pod reminded Hunk of the gray-skinned gladiator they had met back on Arus The second looked like they were the child of an Unilu and a Balmeran with some platypus thrown into the mix. The third had six eyes and was very tall, tall enough that Hunk worried that they might not fit in the healing pods. Ve helped the fourth of the prisoners walk.

The fourth prisoner was probably the half Galra that Green had picked up, with their batlike purple ears and their lilac clawed hands, one of which was pressed against their side. They had long, purple-black hair that seemed to make their already pale skin paler. Their eyes were downcast and haunted; one was entirely gold while the other had a white sclera, black pupil, and violet iris.

Shiro stepped out of his lion and found it hard to maintain a leaderly gait rather than run up and wrap his arms around them. “Keith?”

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girl-next-door-writes · 7 years

Text

Work For Free - Part 8

Characters: Reader, Fili, Bilbo, Bard, Faramir, Smaug, Eowyn, Tauriel, Eomer… anyone else I fancy just throwing in.

Summary: Here is the tale of a day, just one day, confined within the four walls of a small but perfectly formed Tea Room. There is drama and romance and probably a bit of slapstick thrown in to break it up a bit but I’m not promising anything.

Word Count: words

Prompt: Coffee Shop AU (I may have taken a little bit of a liberty with this.) and Neglected Characters from the Tolkeinverse.

A/N: There are some ideas that just take hold and won’t let you go until you have captured them on the page. This is one of those ideas.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

Through a door in a wall there was a tea room. Not a nasty, sticky, damp tea room filled with incontinent old ladies complaining and the faint smell of wee, nor yet a minimalist, ironic hipster take on a tea room with beanbags you can’t get out of and strange ergonomic chairs that dig into your spine: it was Bilbo Baggins tea room, and that means comfort.

The shop had been in his family for as long as he could remember and although it never made millions it made enough money for Bilbo to live quite comfortably. He had a home, a nice apartment of his very own but… well, he spent most of his time right here in the cozy, warm cocoon that was Bagend and lately he had become even more grateful for the hustle and bustle of the place, it was familiar and comforting as he was about to embark upon something so far from his own comfort zone that he sometimes wondered what would become of him.

Standing behind the counter with his trusty notebook he was doing a manual stock take, not entirely trusting this new-fangled modern technology. Fili was busy setting up the tables when the little bell tinkled and a bright voice called out, “Morning Boss.”

“Good morning? Is it a good morning?” He grumbled as the numbers on his page seemed to dance. How could it possibly be a good morning? What good had happened so far to qualify it as such. Bilbo continued with his task, looking up only when you passed him by to hang up your coat. He noticed the way Fili’s expression would soften whenever his eyes fell upon you and he wondered when the boy would actually pluck up the courage to say something to you. There was definitely a difference between him and his brother and while quiet caution had its place sometimes in matters of the heart bravery has more sway. “Are you going to stand there day dreaming all day Master Fili?” he chastised, biting back a fond smile as Fili grinned sheepishly.

“Awww, come on Bilbo, cut the poor boy some slack, he had a hot date last night. Right Fi?” Bilbo looked at the young man with a raised eyebrow and shook his head with a sigh, it didn’t look like the lovesick brooding was about to come to an end any time soon.

“Yeah, yeah that…that didn’t really… erm… it didn’t work out.” Fili rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding all eye contact and Bilbo felt a pang of pity for the boy. To spend all your time with someone you have feelings for and never reveal them must be hard, especially when, like now, that person was offering some sort of comfort.

“You’ll find her Fi. She’s probably out there right now just waiting for you to show up.” Bilbo wanted to shout ‘HE’S IN LOVE WITH YOU! WHY CAN’T YOU SEE THAT!’ but he held it in, the door opening to reveal the first customer of the day providing a timely distraction. “Morning Faramir, you want the usual? Just set up at your table and I’ll bring it over to you.”

“Thank you.” The nervous man replied before scuttling off towards the back corner to a table next to an electrical socket.

“It’s not his table, it’s my table and my electricity he comes in here using every day.” His usual tone of mild annoyance present as he wandered off to the small office at the back of the shop muttering to himself at the general liberties people were taking.

Sitting down in his favourite chair, the leather padding of the seat encased him like a warm hug as his body filled the perfect imprint he had spent years cultivating, Bilbo let out a frustrated sigh. His phone was vibrating on his desk as yet another of his greedy relatives tried to get hold of him to once more request some form of cash injection. Shaking his head, he ignored the insistent thrumming against the wooden surface and picked up his ledger. Running his fingers carefully across its cover he gingerly opened the tome and cast an eye down the figures there. When he had first agreed to this foolhardy plan it had been out of indignance that his friend hadn’t even asked him. Surely Thorin knew that he would help in any way he could, he had, after all, employed both of his nephews after the family fortune was practically stolen from them. They were so close now. It had taken over a year on this adventure of sorts but within his hands Bilbo nearly had the extend of the fraud and when he passed it onto the IRS then a certain customer was going to find himself without the price of a cup of tea to his name. He only hoped his little stint as a cat burglar getting his hands on the original files didn’t come back to haunt him. As it was he was going to have to take great lengths delivering this evidence so it could not be traced. Even so far as hiding whenever Smaug entered the tea shop for fear of being recognised. The one thought that kept him going was that after all this there was a chance his dear friend could once again call Erebor his home once more and his family name would be restored to where it belonged. He only hoped Fili got the girl before that otherwise there may always be that doubt as to if it was him or the status she had finally fallen for. Rubbing his chin his brow furrowed as he checked the figures once again. Yes, this would all be worth the heart stopping panic that he had begun to feel each morning.

Bilbo had spent all day in his office only briefly pausing in his work to take some lunch. The afternoon was taken up with the stock take, putting together the new order and filling out payslips. “You do realise it’d be easier if you let me set all the accounts up on a computer for you.” The voice caught him off guard for a moment, he hadn’t realised it was that time already.

“I don’t trust those things.” He frowned, glaring suspiciously at the computer on the corner of his desk.

“I know but Bilbo it would be…”

“I saw Fili defending your honor earlier.” That seemed to shut her up. It was amazing the things Bilbo had witnessed in that shop and after seeing how she had looked at the lad after he had stepped in the kindly owner decided maybe it was an opportune moment to give them a push. He knew Fili wasn’t about to take that step but this one, well, if she gave him a little encouragement then perhaps that would change. “He’s a good lad.” Bilbo looked up at her and she nodded as she placed the money down on the desk. Smiling to himself, Bilbo suspected he had caught on something there and as she turned to go he called after her. “You could do far worse.” Shaking his head he placed the money into the safe and made his way into the shop just in time to catch the sweetest moment between Fili and the woman who had captured his heart.

Fili leaned on the broom in his hand, his cheeks a little flushed and a dopey grin on his face. “Well Master Fili, if that doesn’t stir you to move then maybe you don’t deserve her.” Bilbo stated, schooling his face into a stern expression inspite of his amusement.

“What?” Fili nearly fell over his own feet, startled by the voice and then a little confusion at the statement.

“The girl thanks you and gives you a kiss on the cheek and you just let her walk away? Favor fortunes the brave my boy. Go after her because you may never get the chance again.” Bilbo smiled kindly and took the broom from Fili who took a moment to catch on. Grabbing his jacket, he shot his employer a thankful look and darted out of the door. Bilbo sighed and locked the door. No matter what happened he always found a sense of peace in this place. There was nowhere in the world he would rather spend his time than at Bagend Tea Emporium.

Tag: @deanxfuckingadorablexwinchester@nea90sweetie@knittingknerdy@feelmyroarrrr@vintagevalentinexx@cojootromuelle@sdavid09@luckynumber1213@zombi3gyrl07@neeadinghugs@hobbithorse19@fromthedeskoftheraven@everyjourneylove @rosa-kirk @palaiasaurus64 @like-a-bag-of-potatoes@luckynumber1213 @littleblue5mcdork

#myfic #something I wrote #nomoreneglectedcharacters #middleearthcoffee

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weshallc · 4 years

Text

BERNS NIGHT: CHAPTER THREE.

So much love to the most patient person in the world @lovetheturners and all you folks who are willing to take on another chapter.

A Call the Midwife AU in the Crown Jewels Series.

Chapter Three: OF MICE AND MEN

“The best laid schemes o’ Mice an’ Men. Gang aft agley. An’ lea’e us nought but grief an’ pain. For promis’d joy!” Robert Burns, To A Mouse 1785.

The largest reception room at Mount Busby Farm would have once been very grand, with Queen Anne furniture and Regency coffee tables. The only thing that remained unchanged was that the original fireplace still gave up warmth and light provided by nature and the windows let in the light from the same star constellations and the same moon.

The Two Loves preferred antique furniture of a later period and in their 80s comfort was paramount. The room was stocked with love seats, chesterfields, recliners. bean bags, generous cushions and a rather charming gold settee that suspiciously looked pre-war. Just no one was sure which war. Everyone mocked it, but everyone fought to sit on it as it was very comfy. Patsy often talked about replacing it, but Delia wouldn’t hear of it. You don’t throw your memories out with the rubbish and there are more memories than just ours hidden within these cushions, Cariad. That was always the end of it.

The most current occupants of that particular settee to be making memories were Tim Turner and Lucille Anderson. Phyllis looked over at the awkward teen who was no longer as awkward as he had once been. He sat comfortably chatting to his companion, both of them laughing at intervals. Lucille often finishing Tim’s sentences or him proclaiming, yep that’s it or knew you’d get it when they appeared to reach a level of understanding. Of course, when she asked the student nurse about her new friendship she would just reply, brushing the older nurse off. Oh, he is a dear boy; He makes me laugh.

He was certainly doing that from where Matron Crane was sitting on a leather tan Whitworth dining chair probably by Frank Hudson. Years of heavy lifting before the introduction of patient hoists and transfer boards had taken their toll on the matron’s back. It was why she had found herself in a more management role much earlier than she would truly have preferred. She looked at Student Nurse Anderson and thought maybe the NHS was in more tender capable hands than the shitstirrers would have them believe.

“I am wondering if we should start,” youth minister Tom Hereward was on his feet. “I am not sure how long baby will sleep in a strange house.”

“I have been called many things in my time, but not sure strange is one of them,” laughed Delia.

“Oh, I have Deals, it’s fine,” reassured Patsy.

“So. Erm who is in charge, who has the most authority here.” Tom was still trying to create some sense of order.

“Well, Julia is the vicar,” chirped in Bobby trying to offer her husband some support.

“But this is not the church,” Rev Julia responded with a warm smile.

“Another shock there then, it’s all coming out tonight, Patsy.” Delia couldn’t help herself when she had an audience and a bottle of Prosecco was being passed round.

“Matron Crane is on the council,” Lucille reminded everyone.

“No, I don't think that matters lass, it’s not a council matter.” Phyllis shook her head.

“Well, someone needs to take the lead,” Tom said with a hint of irritation.

“I will! On the authority that I am a young woman on her only night off of the week,” struck up Val, “ but I have agreed to come here and discuss plans for Bernie’s birthday instead of having two for one sex on the beach.”

“It’s a cocktail, and its happy hour in the Fourteen Teacups on a Tuesday,” Trixie interpreted for everyone.

“That’s ambitious having a happy hour in the Teacups, isn't it?” said Fred, who had managed to wedge himself into a deep red Chesterfield.

“Yeah, apparently Ursula gives you the right change, that's why they call it happy hour,” Tim smirked.

“Why isn’t he here?” asked Bobby.

“Well, he said it would look suspicious if he left Bernie on her tod behind the bar on a Tuesday night,” Vi explained sitting on a scarlet love seat next to Fred.

“Yep, in case our two Tuesday night regulars rush the bar at once,” snorted Val.

“I think it’s more that it would look suspicious if he actually just left Bernie alone for five minutes,” Trixie corrected.

Lucille felt Tim squirm in the seat beside her. She knew he thought the world of Bernie, but didn’t like to hear her relationship with his father discussed in public. This was inevitable being a small village with one pub, one church and two of the villages most popular inhabitants linked to both. She tried to ease his tension.

“I think it’s lovely, just shows as my grandma used to say there may be snow on the roof, but there is still fire in the grate.”

As everyone surrendered to laughter, Matron shared a smile with the vicar, both of them confirming Lucille might be familiar with the saying but maybe not it’s meaning.

Delia was the first to keep a straight face, “But they are only bairns, wait until they are mine and Pats age then the fire may need a little bit of stoking.”

“Yes, Deals, but remember we have never required the use of a poker.”

Val swiftly continued, “Paddy doesn’t wish to be involved.”

“Why?” Reggie asked perched on his wooden stool.

Val motioned towards Tim, who was still recovering from the last topic of conversation.

Tim looked at his knees and Lucille gave one a quick squeeze. She knew this wasn’t easy for him.

Everyone else also looked at their knees, the mood was solemn.

“We can all understand Paddy’s reasons.” There were a couple of nods and sighs in response. “But we aren’t putting up with any of that nonsense,” Val added with a grin.

This was met with a very large and unanimous cheer.

“Well, I’ve already looked up the Turner tartan,” Trixie handed an iPad over to Patsy via Val.

“That’s very smart,” approved the artist.

“Sorry I hate to throw a spanner in the works, but how are we going to afford all this?” butt in a pensive Vi.

“We've already thought of that,” grinned Delia, ”Mount Busby will cover the cost of the costume.”

“That’s very generous,” sniffed Evie, who had nearly dozed off in a leather recliner.

“Not really,” explained Patsy. “I have a friend that works for Kilts 4 U and they are very interested in looking into the possibility of making an alpaca lined sporran.”

This was news to Reggie who followed anything relating to his charges with great interest, “What’s a sporran?”

“It’s where he keeps his spare change,” Fred enlightened or at least tried to.

“It’s the little purse that men wear at the front of the kilt, Reggie,” Violet elaborated. He seemed reassured by this.

“So anyway in return for a few samples,” Patsy continued, “my friend will be happy to hire out the full regalia for the evening.”

“It’s not long now until Burns Night have you got some sort of prototype ready?” quizzed Evie.

“Lady K is working on them as we speak. She loves nothing better than fiddling with a bit of alpaca wool,” Delia replied gleefully.

“Lady K?” Phyllis queried.

“Yes, she is very creative,” reassured Trixie.

“I don’t doubt it, Trixie, but she is one of Bernie’s clients. What if the lass sees what she is up too”

Jack sat on the floor banged his head against the fire surround he was leaning against, “Can’t imagine Berns thinking, oh look Lady K is sticking bits of alpaca wool to a man’s bag he hangs in front of his todger, that must be something to do with Paddy and my birthday”

Vi was quick to admonish Jack, but when even Tom started to laugh, she decided to let it go.

“What about the little knifey thing they keep in their sock that he stabs the Haggis with?” Fred was beginning to get excited.

“Sgian dubh,” corrected Vi.

“All part of the traditional dress,” Patsy added a tone to her voice to reassure everyone that she had thought of everything.

“So that's the gear sorted. Me and Reggie are in charge of the beer. What else?” Fred’s eyes were wide thinking they actually might be able to pull this off.

“Well, myself and Evie have created a menu, pretty much on the lines of what we used to do in Wilf’s day.” Violet opened a small notebook and put on her reading glasses.

Clearing her throat she read, “Cock-a-leekie soup, Scottish salmon and tattie scones or scotch egg for starters.”

“Cock a what?” shouted up Jack.

“What about those that might not wish to partake in the Haggis?” Tom asked nervously, as he might.

Evie spoke up, before Vi could respond. “There is always the Fourteen Teacups for the likes of those that don’t wish to have Haggis. It’s a Burns Night. If you don’t want Haggis, then stay at home and order in a pizza.”

“What's for pudding?” Bobby struck up, squeezing her husband's hand.

“Cranachan which is raspberries, cream, oats and whisky, or Clootie pudding with whisky sauce or whisky ice cream or a Scottish cheese board with oatcakes.”

Murmurs of approval were aimed in Violet’s direction.

“That's a lot of whisky?” Lucille remarked.

Violet agreed, “Yes, we need just a house whisky for everyone for the toasts Val, I will leave that to you, but you need to pay the piper with a good quality malt.”

Silence broke out in the previously buzzing over occupied living room.

“Piper!” Several people groaned at once.

Fred, who was not going to let anything get in the way of this Burn’s Night declared, “Look we will just have to bung on a recording.” Turning to Tim and Jack, he said, “You lads look up the Red Hot Chilli Pipers on your phones.”

Tim reached for his phone swiping the picture of Lucille and him with Alpaca Colin. But Lucille touched his hand, making him hesitate.

“I don’t think that would be very suitable Mr Buckle, going to all this trouble with such a delicious menu and Mr Turner all dressed up in the finest regalia and then having some squeaky din coming out of an iPhone.”

“Your right lass, it just won't do,” supported Phyllis.

“Well, does anyone know a piper?” Fred replied wearily.

“Surely we can find a professional one online?” contributed Julia

“A professional piper that’s free on Burn’s Night at this late notice,” chided Phyllis.

“I know a piper.”

The voice came from the back of the room everyone turned to look at the slight dark-haired woman sat on a dining chair. “Well, I think we all do.”

“Do we, Jane?” Julia asked.

“Yes, the busker that stands outside the town hall in Appleby Thornton.”

Everyone started talking at once;

“I only go into town every second Tuesday to get my hair done.”

“Same here I only go through if I have a doctor's appointment.”

“Well, it’s the cost of the parking isn't it, it’s free at Tweaven Retail Park and more shops.”

“You can get it on t’internet delivered to your door.”

“I haven’t been since Marks and Spencers closed.”

“Debenhams is closing next week such a shame, that shops older than me, always been a department store in Appleby Thornton.”

“It was one of the first in the country to have a lift, you know.”

Jane cleared her throat. “There are a lot of good things about Appleby Thornton that are not always obvious.”

“Here, here!” chimed in Val, “there is still a Primark.”

“Oh well, let's be grateful for small mercies,” stung back Trixie.

Much to Delia’s disappointment, Val bit her lip. The ex nurse and market gardener loved a full house. She cherished her quiet times with Patsy too, but she was the more sociable of the pair. The farm was large enough for Patsy to have her office and art studio and not be disturbed while Delia fussed the alpacas with Reggie. Trixie moving in had been Patsy’s scheme, but Delia was the one who had benefited most from their new project, even if she would never let their new employee know she was a project.

Delia enjoyed listening to Trixie’s anecdotes and gossip, she felt reconnected with a world that was moving so fast. The Two Loves were business women and technology hadn’t passed them by. It was the music, the celebrities, the trashy telly that Patsy despised and Delia loved that made having Trixie and her friends around delight Delia.

Delia’s carer probably wasn’t as up-to-date with pop culture as Trixie and her friend. Val was now a frequent visitor to Mount Busby as she and their new lodger had struck up quite a friendship. Nurse Bernie always looked a bit behind the door when the other two were in full flow about some reality TV show.

But since Trixie had moved in, Nurse made Delia’s blood pressure check the last visit on her rounds and she drank tea sitting and chatting with Trixie. Bernie didn’t need to watch Love Island. She had her own romantic paradise in Poplar-on-Tweaven and Delia couldn’t be more happy for her.

Val had bitten her lip because even though her new friend was still a bit of an enigma to her. She did know Trixie might talk as if she had been born with a silver spoon in her mouth, but in the last few months she had gleaned enough to know that spoon had been tarnished sometime ago. So in spite of all her bravado, Trixie was as familiar with Poundland as she was Prada.

It was Julia who cut through the chatter. “I believe I am familiar with the young man you are referring to. He has a small dog with him if I am right?”

“Yes, Reverend.” Jane was beginning to believe she had dreamt the piper and maybe also Appleby Thornton.

“He’s rather good, as I remember.”

Jane was beaming as she nodded.

“So problem solved,” Fred rubbed his hands together with glee, “tot of whisky, a bowl of water for the pooch, bob's your uncle, sorted”

“No, it certainly is not.” Trixie's tone caused everyone to alter their gaze, “this man is a professional musician surely, if he has a regular spot he has a license. I am sure Chummy is well acquainted with the gentleman and his story, we can ask her.”

Inspector Noakes had been unable to attend the meeting because of work commitments and Peter’s Tuesday evenings were spent running a youth football team that Jack and Timothy had both enjoyed being a part of. Alas Tim had become too rangy and prone to injury and Jack had become too lazy and prone to chips.

Trixie continued, “He deserves an appropriate wage for his efforts.” She turned to Val. “I believe the Crown has an entertainments licence.”

Val nodded and smiled reassuringly at her friend, “Paddy does, leave it with me and I will also make sure he and the mut are fed and provided with transport both ways.”

Trixie relaxed and shared a smile with the aromatherapist sitting at the back of the room. “Do you know his name?”

“Kevin.”

Fred let out a huge sigh. “So we are all sorted then?”

“It would appear so,” replied Lucille grimacing at Tim.

“Apart from Dad.” groaned Tim.

Followed by an echo of sighs.

“Leave your Dad to me, Chick.” winked Val.

#call the midwife #a turnadette au without turnadette #al's fics

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