#Mark and Mazz AU

[scouts-mockingbird]

Remember that time we talked about Mazz being a space alien? How about that AU?

1. The Roswell incident was in New Mexico, but a lesser known UFO crash happened in 1990 in the middle of nowhere near a small town in Arizona. The wreckage was cleared, but there was some evidence that someone... or something... may have survived the crash. 

2. Mark Hunter is an average kid in every way, except that he’s living a double life as the town’s illegal radio shock jock every night. On this particular night, he goes to his backyard for a smoke after the broadcast and sees something very strange. 

3. He let’s the weird guy crash on his couch, and Mazz explains that he’s an alien and that the government is looking for him. Mark tells him that the government is looking for him too, because of his illegal radio activity. They bond over this. 

4. Mark decides he may as well bring the guy to school, and tells everyone that Mazz is his friend from back east, come to visit for a while. Nora immediately sees through this, and asks him what’s up. Mark is a terrible liar and blurts out the truth. 

5. Harry’s next broadcast features a lot railing against the government, ultimately ending with the reveal that they’re hiding the existence of aliens, and Harry has the proof. The crew has to run away from the government, expose their secrets, save Mazz, and pass trig. It would make one hell of a tv series. 

[weshallc]

Did you know there’s five chapters to this! Who knew? Better crack on then. 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿 (found it)

BERNS NIGHT (Again for St. Andrew’s Day)

A Crown Jewels AU Call the Midwife fanfiction. (Paddy, Bernie, the pub, Poplar-on Tweaven, the rest of them)

CHAPTER TWO: THE BONNIE LAD THAT’S FAR AWA’.

“His Face With Smile Eternal Drest, Just Like The Landlord’s To His Guest’s, High As They Hang With Creaking Din, To Index Out The Country Inn.” Versicles On Sign-Posts by Robert Burns 1788.

“The Needle Returns To The Start Of The Song, And We All Sing Along As Before.” Nothing Ever Happens by Del Amitri 1989.

January 2020.

Fred Buckle clambered up from the cellar of the Crown Inn and perched his ample posterior on a bar stool, wiping his forehead with an old bar towel he used when helping Paddy exchange the old barrels for new. Violet tutted as she placed a sausage sandwich and a mug of tea on the bar in front of him.

“Sure you don’t want one, Paddy.”

“No, I am fine, Vi. Just a cuppa, cheers. I had breakfast with Bernie before she went on her rounds.”

“I will have another one, Violet”

“I am sure you won’t Reggie you scoffed that back like there was no tomorrow, doesn’t your uncle feed you.”

No one replied to this as everyone knew Violet fed them both, if not at the Crown, at either her home or Fred’s. To spare Violet’s blushes, Fred began.

“I have a little beauty brewing, be just right for Burns Night, Doc.”

“Burn’s Night?” questioned Vi.

“Yep, soon comes around after Christmas, Vi. Be Valentines before we know it.” He winked and Vi wiped a cloth under Paddy’s mug and straightened the bar towel.

“Fred, I don’t think so, not this year anyway.” Paddy added, trying not to look at Val, who was checking the mixer fridge with visibly shaking shoulders.

“But we always do a Burns Night, it’s tradition,” protested Fred.

“No, we haven’t done one for the last couple of years, Fred. Not since Wilf took poorly.” Vi had regained her composure.

“Well, it’s about time we did again.” Fred was like a dog with a bone, or in this case a sausage.

Val, also more composed now, looked at Vi, who was in turn looking at Paddy. Tim, who had been trying to clean all the chalk marks off the dart scoreboard under Evie’s instruction, looked at his mentor and they both moved closer to the bar.

“Look, I know, Bernie. She won’t be upset because her dad’s not here to do the twiddly bits. She wouldn’t still be in Poplar if she was worried about being reminded of her dad.”

“Always wondered why she was still in Poplar,” Tim smirked and Evie frowned at him, deciding it was time to enlighten everyone.

“The reason we haven’t had a Burns Night since Reverend Wilf died is because we have no one to address the Haggis.”

“Well, Mr T could do it,” Reggie chirped in as Paddy went pale.

“Yeah, you’ll like that boss,” Val added, “any excuse to slope off and leave me on my tod behind the bar. I presume Lorraine Bernadette Kelly won’t be working either.”

Evie and Vi sighed in unison.

“What,” said Val.

Paddy turned to her, but before he could speak, Val interrupted,

“Don’t tell me you are scared of haggis as well as alpacas.”

Tim, Reggie and a lurking Jack found this highly amusing, but Evie had had enough.

“No, it’s not that, it really should be a Scot that addresses the haggis otherwise it’s just not going to sound right, a bit like well like when Captain Kirk sang Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds.”

“Isn’t that your ringtone, Tim?” Jack smirked. Tim ignored him as per se.

“Weezer doing Africa,” Val was beginning to understand.

“Miley Cyrus doing Nirvana,” Tim added, still ignoring Jack.

“But, Bernie is Scottish!” added Reggie optimistically

“Yes, but it’s traditionally a man,” Vi said nervously.

“Oh, well, heaven forbid we bring Poplar into the 21st century,” Val cried. “How do you know all this anyway, you two?”

“We have been doing this for years. Wilf was a member of the Burns Society. Val, you were there at the last one we had, must have been?” Violet explained.

“Oh, I was there alright, working behind the bar. Sorry, if I didn’t have time to memorize ancient Scottish protocol while fighting off the thirsty English hoards.”

“Can we all just calm down,” Paddy sounded exasperated, and it wasn’t even ten o’clock. “Look, I appreciate while Wilf was alive and in Evie’s time we celebrated Burns Night.” He continued a little firmer, “Me and Mazz tried to keep it going as long as Wilf was around, but he is gone. Let's be honest, Wilf arranged everything, even the piper was his mate from Kelso. Do you have his number, Evie? I know I don't.” The ex-landlady shook her head. “Come on, let's admit it we are just pissing in the wind.”

“Dad.”

“But it’s for Bernie, you do know it’s also her birthday,” Val said sulkily.

“Yes, I do know, and if I know Bernie. She would rather just go to the pictures and a Parmo then all this fuss.”

“Would she really?” grumbled Val.

“Dad.”

“I do know how to prepare a good Burns supper, never had any complaints in all the years.” Vi sounded defeated.

“I brewed some ale specially.” Fred’s tone was flat in a way his beer never was.

“Dad.”

“Paddy is right. Burns Night was Wilf’s night gave him a chance to show off without having to stand behind a pulpit,” Evie reminisced. “For one night only, he could be Wilf Mannion in a kilt and not Poplar’s vicar in a dog collar. If we can’t do it properly, we shouldn’t do it at all.” Evie nodded toward Paddy.

Thank you, he mouthed in return.

“Dad.”

“Does anyone else think we are overthinking this.” Val never took no for an answer,

“Yes,” Reggie cried.

“Basically, all we need is someone who is Scottish, I mean if I have to hike up to the Borders myself and toss one over my shoulder and bring em back, I will.” Val quipped,

“Dad.”

“Not now, Tim.”

“But Dad.”

“Not now, Tim.”

“Do they have to be 100% Scottish?” Tim asked, facing Vi and Evie, who seemed to be the authority on this. They looked at each other, but Val stepped in.

“I don’t know Tim,  I will just look at the rule book. Oh, look at that there isn’t one”

“I think we would settle for a left bollock’s worth right now,” muttered a despondent Fred.

“Fred, there is no need to be vulgar! Reggie, don’t listen to him,” Vi reprimanded.

“I could do it then,” said Tim.

“You have a Scottish bollock, Turner. Does Lucy know?”

“Jack Smith!” Scalded Violet as Reggie chuckled.

“No, Smithy, but my Gran was Scottish.”

Tim blushed from the neck up, as is the way of teenage boys when the whole room is looking at them.

“Your gran, so Marianne’s mother,” Evie enquired.

“No, Dad’s mam.”

All eyes moved towards Paddy, who seemed to lose as much colour as Tim had gained.

“OK, so I don't think we are going to get any further today. We open in 5 everyone back to work.” Not one of his staff moved in obedience until Paddy started to roll up his sleeves and they knew he meant business.

[scouts-mockingbird]

I stumbled upon your blog bc I was reading your Heather stuff BUT!!! I noticed your posts about CWD's and I thought I'd settle you're debate cause I actually keep a pair of them! I watched PUTV and I can happily confirm for you that Reggie is indeed, as you were speculating, a young male dragon. He looks 18 months, so just entering juvenile hood. But, he's a bit too small for his age, possibly a runt. That said, he's extremely healthy looking! I just hope Mark plans to upgrade his enclosure soon

Chris and I have many headcanons about that. Pretty sure Mark and Mazz are seen in shop class at one point or another in the film (at least one of them is) so they could build him a new enclosure that suits his needs. Paige helps them research what exactly those needs are. 

[scouts-mockingbird]

(Just realized there was a quote thing so sending another one) 😊 It was such a nice gesture. The kind of things Mark would never have thought of in a million years, but that occurred to Mazz as easily as breathing, because he was just that damn nice. (From "Who's Harry?")

What I love about this scene is that it never even occurred to Mark to worry about this, because he doesn’t expect people to treat him all that well. He’s so surprised that Mazz came over to hang out with him when he thought he was grounded because he just doesn’t expect his friends to treat him like that. It’s a little sad but it also speaks to what a wonderful friend a just all around good guy Mazz is. Makes me happy :)

[scouts-mockingbird]

39 with a putv ship of your choosing :p

This got really long and it’s completely unedited but I like it. Chris D and Mazz deserve an origin story. 

39. “I think we really need to talk about what happened last night,”

“Hey, Mazz, um, I think… I think we need to talk about what happened last night.”

Mazz had, in his time on earth, made some rather poorly thought out decisions, some of which might even qualify as mistakes, but he prided himself on not being the kind of person who forgot the stupid shit he did, so when he looked at Chris and replied, “Huh?” He really meant that he had no idea what was going on.

Last night, as far as he knew, Paige had introduced him to Chris at the bonfire, and they had talked and flirted. It hadn’t gone further than that, though certain thoughts had crossed Mazz’s mind.

Chris flushed, looking like a deer caught in headlights, or like Mark when a teacher called on him in class. Also like Mark, Chris struggled for words for a second, then ducked his head. “Sorry. My mistake.” He turned and hurried down the hall into the crowd.

Mazz thought about calling after him, but he was already too far away for there to be much of a point. He attempted to shrug it off, but something about the exchange lingered, remaining with him for the rest of the school day while he spaced out in his classes.

He caught up with Mark on the way out of the building, in his usual rush to get as far away from school as possible in the least amount of time.

“Mark, buddy, hold up!” He reached out, but caught himself before he grabbed onto Mark’s sleeve; unexpected touching wasn’t something Mark liked. “This is going to be a weird question.”

“When isn’t it with you?” Mark asked, turning down the alley that would take him to Main Street and the post office.

“Did anything weird happen last night?”

Mark frowned. “I don’t know, weren’t you there?”

“Yeah, but that guy, Chris, came up to me and said he wanted to talk about what happened, but I have no fucking clue what happened, or what he wanted to talk about.”

“With Paige’s friend?” Mark shrugged. “I didn’t notice. You talked a lot, but that’s not weird. You always talk a lot.”

“Do you think I talk too much?” Mazz asked, momentarily distracted. “Wait, nevermind. Is that all you remember?”

“Yeah. Hang on I have to get my letters.”

Technically speaking, they were Harry’s letters, or that’s what the people who sent them thought. People like Mazz’s friend and crush, Confused, who he’d been talking to on the phone for a couple weeks now, starting not long after he’d found out that Mark and Harry were one and the same.

“Three today, that’ll be enough to keep the show going,” Mark said, “I didn’t have much to say tonight.”

That usually meant Mark’s day had been relatively good.

Mazz looked at the letter on the top. “How come that one’s fucked?”

Mark shrugged. “I don’t pay enough for them to take good care of the letters.”

It had been crumpled up and folded awkwardly, as if it had been forced into the narrow mailbox slit the wrong way. The address was scrawled across it, but there was no stamp.

“Can I read it?”

“Nah, I’ll save them for tonight. Are you going to come by after the show?”

Mazz smiled. “I’ll be there.”

“Let me know how it goes at the field.”

Hours later, Mazz was listening to Harry talk about their shit school, only half paying attention. The other half scanned the crowd, searching. Are you here Confused?

“This last letter is from a repeat offender,” Harry said, and Mazz looked at his car radio, as though that might make him talk any faster. “Dear Harry, remember me? I’m Confused. You gave my number to a friend of yours, and we’ve been talking for a few weeks. I liked him a lot, but I didn’t know who he was.”

Mazz was holding his breath, leaning into the radio like his life depended on it.

“I met him last night,” Harry said, still reading aloud from the letter. “I met your friend, and we talked, and it was just like being on the phone, but I could see his face and he was right there!” Harry stopped reading. “Folks, I think it’s important that you know that he underlined that.”

“Get on with it!” Mazz muttered, and he thought about driving to Mark’s house to take the letter from his hands, but he didn’t want to lose the signal on the way.

“I met him, but then today, after we’d talked practically all night, he acted like he didn’t recognize me at school, but I’m sure he knew. Why would he do that? Yours, Confused.”

Now Mazz did start the car, because he realized what an idiot he’d been, because everything made perfect sense.

He screeched to a halt in front of Mark’s house, leaping out of the car and over the wall into the back yard where he nearly ran directly into the glass door leading into Mark’s room.

He waved his hands frantically, and Mark looked up, slightly panicked. He covered the microphone. “What?”

“Tell him to… tell him to meet me where we were last night!”

Mark sighed and nodded. “Well, I just heard from my friend, Confused, and he really wants to talk to you. Meet him where you saw him last night if you want to hear him out.”

As soon as he’d heard the words, Mazz went back to his car and drove away, out into the desert until he’d gotten to the old campsite where they’d had their fire the night before.

It was cold enough to justify the many layers Mazz usually wore and he was grateful for his jacket as he settled in to wait.

It felt like hours went by as he sat in silence, too far from Mark’s house to get the signal for his show.

When he eventually heard the sound of tires crunching over old sand, he jumped out of his car, hitting his head on the door frame just in time to see Chris riding his bike into the campsite.

“You came!” Mazz said, long before his brain had caught up with him.

“What happened?” Chris asked, his eyes darted around as though he expected someone to pop out of the scruffy desert bushes any second. “This morning you acted like you didn’t know me.”

“I didn’t!” Mazz insisted, “Well, what I mean is, I didn’t know you were, you know, you. Confused. I thought you were Chris.”

“But last night…”

“I didn’t know last night!”

“How… We talked for ages, you didn’t recognize my voice?”

“You recognized mine? Mazz asked, feeling oddly warm, despite the cool breeze.

“Immediately.”

“Wow. I’m… Well I told you I’m kind of an idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot,” Chris answered. “I just… I thought you were embarrassed or something.”

“Me?” Mazz asked, gesturing to his outfit and his hair and trying to encompass everything about his existence with one word. “I have never felt shame in my life.”

“Oh.” Chris glanced at the ground. “So…”

“I like you too,” Mazz blurted. “Just, you know, in case you were wondering.”

“Right…” Chris hesitated. “So… what now?”

Mazz didn’t know how to answer that. He wasn’t the kind of person who made plans, or thought about things before he did them. So he relied on old habits and didn’t let himself think before he stepped closer to Chris and leaned in, stopping just before he kissed him.

You’re supposed to ask, right? He thought, hesitating for a fraction of a second. “Is this–”

Chris closed the space between them, drawing Mazz in with a hand on his neck.

The broke apart after a moment of awkward, fumbling perfection, blushing and a little breathless.

They made eye contact and laughed, both looking away.

“That was–”

“So how–”

Mazz paused. “You first.”

“Um… What now?”

A glance at his watch told him that they had probably missed the end of the broadcast. “We could… Do you know anything about stars?”

Chris looked momentarily flummoxed. “A… A little I guess. I know like… why they’re called what they’re called and stuff.”

“Perfect,” Mazz said. “Let’s stay here for a while and you can tell me about stars.” Now that he knew whose it was, he wanted to listen to that voice for a little longer.

[scouts-mockingbird]

Happy Birthday to Chris @penguinpatrolerarmy! If anyone deserves nice presents and warm wishes today, it’s him. This is from a Pump Up the Volume au that we’ve been creating together. Enjoy! 

Mark slammed his locker closed, pulling away to dive into the crowd, ready to head home. Before he had the chance to breach the seamless wall of people flowing towards the exits, Mazz gripped his collar holding him back.

“Hey! Do you want to come to the field to listen to Harry’s broadcast tonight? You said you wanted to do it sometime.”

Mark’s heart sank. He’d been hoping that Mazz would forget that he’d said that. He should never have said it in the first place, but saying anything was hard enough, saying the right thing was nearly impossible.

And he hated lying to his best friend, one of his only friends. “I… I can’t. My parents don’t want me to go out that late.”

Mazz’s expressive face fell. “Oh. Okay.”

You should tell him, The little voice in the back of Mark’s head whispered. It had been growing louder recently, but fear always stopped Mark before he managed to tell Mazz the truth.

He was afraid that their friendship would change if Mazz knew the truth, and Mark didn’t have enough friends to risk one.

“I’m sorry,” Mark said lamely. The word died towards the end, a sign that Mark had reached his speaking limit and might not be able to form words.

As always, Mazz noticed. “Hey, it’s okay. We’ll find another time. Maybe your parents will go out of town sometime and you can go then.” He bumped gently against Mark’s shoulder in a surprisingly encouraging gesture.

Forcing a smile, Mark nodded. “Yeah. That would be cool.” He sounded like he was being strangled.

“Do you want a ride home? It’s pretty hot for walking.” Mazz didn’t bother waiting for an answer, which was good, because he wouldn’t have gotten one. He grabbed Mark’s arm and started steering him towards the parking lot where he’d left his car.

Walking through crowds was always easier with Mazz. Though he wasn’t exactly tall, people always stepped out of the way for him, some because of his rather intimidating air, and others because they knew him and knew better than to get in his way when he was in a hurry.

The drive home wasn’t exactly quiet-- Mazz was almost never quiet, even when he wasn’t talking-- but Mark wasn’t expected to participate in it.

“Oh, shit,” Mark muttered, remembering that he hadn’t picked up his mail for the broadcast tonight.

Mazz gave him a strange look, and Mark realized those were the first words he’d said since they’d left the school. “You okay?”

“Uh, yeah. My, um, mom said she wanted me to get some… stamps on my way home. Do you mind stopping at the post office?” Yet more lying to his best friend.

“Sure, no problem.” Mazz’s easy agreement made Mark feel even worse for lying to him.

When they pulled into the small parking lot, Mark jumped out of the car. “I’ll be out in a second, you don’t have to come in with me!”

“Okay…”

Mark ran inside, knowing that Mazz was giving him the same searching look he had before.

There were a couple letters in his box, thankfully making the trip worth it, but when he walked back outside with them tucked into his pocket, Mazz was still looking confused.

“Where are they?”

Panicked, Mark replied, “Where are what?”

“The stamps?”

Shit. Fuck. “Um… They were out.”

“The post office was out of stamps? Weird. Do you want to go somewhere else?”

God, why did he have to be so damn nice? “No, thanks. I’ll just tell her what happened.”

It was a relief to pull into his driveway, and Mark practically dove out of the car, waving a quick goodbye to Mazz, he walked inside and hid in the basement.

The house was built into a hill, which meant that the basement-- which had become Mark’s other bedroom for all intents and purposes-- had a door that opened into the small backyard. He considered leaving again, but wandering around the neighborhood in the heat wasn’t anymore appealing than waiting around here, bored.

He couldn’t wait for ten, already words churned in his head, ready to become a broadcast, spread from radio to radio, until his words were on the lips of every student at Hubert Humphrey High.

The confusing day and his frustration at having to lie to Mazz could only be purged when he had his microphone.

Homework and yet another dull, small talk-filled dinner with his parents passed so slow Mark was beginning to think he’d died and ended up in hell.

“Probably better than fucking Arizona,” He muttered, returning to his basement and beginning the process of setting up the radio.

Before he started “Everybody Knows” and turned on his ‘On Air’ sign, he crossed the room and pulled the curtains over the back door. This was something he preferred to do without an audience.

“Do you ever feel like you lie to every goddamn person you talk to?” Mark said, holding the microphone a little too close to his mouth and enjoying the crackle of his voice disguiser.

“I swear, every time I talk to anyone, I end up lying. Sometimes it’s stupid shit; ‘Hey, want to meet up to work on that project for class?’ Sorry, I can’t my grandma’s in town.’ Or when teachers ask how you are and you say ‘good’ because you know they don’t give a fuck. God, I’m sick of that.”

“Every fucking time I try to talk to someone, I gotta lie about something. It’s fucking exhausting.” Mark felt himself getting into his groove, slipping into Harry’s personality like an old sweater that fit perfectly.

He took a deep breath, ready to launch back into his rant, when he heard the creak of the curtain opening and a sudden, loud thud as something heavy crashed to the floor.

“SORRY FOLKS TECHNICAL DIFFICULTIES BACK IN A SECOND.” Mark flipped the switch, playing Leonard Cohen’s ‘I’m Your Man’, just to have something on the air while he dealt with Mazz.

Mazz, who had just walked into his room carrying a radio.

Mazz, who had immediately dropped said radio when he’d seen what Mark was doing.

Mazz, who was now staring in speechless shock. “I… You… Are… What?”

“Hi, Mazz, uh… what’s up?”

“You…” Mazz paused, looking at the still glowing ‘On Air’ sign. “I… You said you were grounded and couldn’t come listen to the broadcast with the crowd, so I brought the broadcast to you. I guess I didn’t have to.”

It was such a nice gesture. The kind of things Mark would never have thought of in a million years, but that occured to Mazz as easily as breathing, because he was just that damn nice.

“So… you’re Hard Harry?”

Mark nodded. “Yeah.” With that, he exhaled, feeling like he’d been holding the breath in since the start of this friendship. Mazz knew, and things would fall apart or not, and there was nothing Mark could do about it now.

“And… you’ve been Hard Harry this whole time?”

“Yeah.”

“Wow…”

Mark just nodded. “Yeah.”

There was a very long silence, something that had never happened when Mark was with Mazz.

“That’s amazing,” Mazz finally said, and Mark looked up, surprised and confused. Mazz was beaming. “I can’t believe I’ve been friends with Hard Harry, THE Hard Harry all this time, and I never guessed! This is awesome!”

Still reeling, Mark watched Mazz, looking for a lie in his face. “Seriously?”

“Fuck yeah, man! This is amazing! Now I can watch the crowd for you and tell you what people think of the broadcast!” Mazz was practically dancing around the cramped room in his excitement.

Mark laughed, relief and happiness making him giddy as he watched his friend.

“Wait,” Mazz stopped and looked back at Mark. “The crowd! You have to get back on air!”

“Oh, Shit!” Mark went back to his desk and threw himself onto the chair, readying the set and poising one hand over the switch to go back to talking. Before he flipped it, he turned to Mazz with a smile. “So, do you want to watch?”

Mazz smiled back. “Hell yes.”

[scouts-mockingbird]

I read that Mark and Mazz fic and considering how Mazz acts I'm surprised you mentioned people being scared of him? He seems so nice!

He is nice, but he dresses like this: 

and he’s pretty abrasive to authority figures, so if people only saw him in class, they’d think he was kinda scary. He’s a sweetheart when you get to know him though!

[scouts-mockingbird]

I took exactly 1 look at that pic of Mazz and went "Welp, I'm gay"

He has that effect on people. 

[scouts-mockingbird]

Oh it's mazz time? I think he's like a vigilante around the school! Stands up for everyone's injustices. Protects students who can't help themselves.

It’s always Mazz time. And this is true, he works as a kind of… middle man for Harry. Whenever people call in or send letters to Harry about bad stuff that’s happening to them, it’s Mazz that checks in on them, rather than Mark who a. can’t reveal his identity and b. Can’t talk to strangers

[scouts-mockingbird]

Nora DiNiro?

Sexuality Headcanon:

Lesbian, sorry MarkA ship I have with said character:

No one, actually. Let them be friendsA BROTP I have with said character:

Paige and MarkA NOTP I have with said character:

No one really? A random headcanon:

Mark is a big part of her coming to understand her sexuality. She realizes after dating him for a bit that she’s isn’t in love with him, just his revolution. Mark is like “Yeah me too. Also, I’m bi”General Opinion over said character:

I need to headcanon more for her for the Mark and Mazz au because she’s still underdeveloped. 

[scouts-mockingbird]

Fic Facts!

Thanks @lawlessferalgayor the tag!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

28 on one account and 33 on the other

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

965832 across both accounts

3. How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

Hmm... around 10 probably? Including things I didn’t publish because they weren’t very good lol

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

That Girl I knew with 644. It’s a post-canon heathers fic where JD lives and he and Veronica accidentally move into the same apartment building, featuring my favorite cat I’ve ever written.

Horseshoes and Hand Grenades with 404. It’s a heathers fake dating au/christmas fic that’s very soft.

Saving Souls with 322, it’s a heathers ghost hunting au where Veronica is a medium. It’s one of my earlier works and uh... that shows lmao

Someone Else’s War with 259 I... god I love this fic. It’s a strange Heathers au with superpowers and dystopian vibes

(On my other account) No Answer Will Be Heard to the Question No One Asks with 257. My first spn fic. it’s a post-canon fix it situation that I’m actually very fond of.

5. What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

The Kind of Tired Sleep Can’t Cure. It’s one of my Haven fics and like... I mean no one dies but no one comes out of that one happy.

6. What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

Uhhhmmm.... I guess probably Horseshoes and Hand Grenades. The ending is very soft and sweet. I smile when I read it

7. Do you write crossovers? If so, what is the craziest one you've written?

I have. Saving Lives and The Victim Gets His Way both feature characters from musicals a little cringe lol but I do like the fics.

8. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yes I definitely do. Idk about what kind, it really depends on the characters and what their dynamics are, I’m always trying to work within that.

9. Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

Yes! Depending on my mood and how much the comment gives me to work with, my responses might be more or less effusive, but I always like to thank people for taking the time to comment.

10. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Yeah, I’ve received different random things. Sometimes I make dramatic choices for my fics that people don’t vibe with. I also recently got a comment that was... just disgustingly transphobic. I have no idea what about this fic set this terf off but it was horrible. Although they did say that they liked the fic, they were just upset that I was “not a real woman” whatever the fuck that means.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not really

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Someone reached out a while back about translating one of my heathers fics into Mandarin but I have no idea if it happened or not.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Not exactly, but I share the Mark and Mazz au with @penguinpatrolerarmy and we both wrote fics for it. It’s very near to my heart.

14. What's your all time favourite ship?

I don’t really have an all time favorite, I tend to just vibe heavily with my hyperfixation. I’ll always love Threegulls from Haven, JD and Veronica from Heathers, and uh... well to be honest I’ve been super into Destiel lately. The hyperfixation wants what it wants I guess

15. What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

Watching Supernovas, Starfall, Don’t Look the Other Way. I love the ideas but for various reasons don’t think I can return to them.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Descriptions! in particular I’m proud of my descriptions of pain, it’s a weird thing but I think I do pretty well with those.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Dialogue. I hate it when people have to talk to each other, please just communicate with eye contact.

18. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I have done it, and I always try really hard to do my research and get it right, but I know there’s plenty that’s not great. I don’t include translations though, I like to let context carry it if I go for it.

19. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Phantom of the Opera. I don’t think the fic still exists though. On here, Heathers.

20. What's your favourite fic you've written?

That Girl I Knew remains one of the most important things I’ve ever written. It really helped me heal from some things and to this day it’s still something I find extremely comforting. I also really really love the series I’ve been working on lately for spn Lost in the Wilderness I’m not going to tag anyone, but if you want to do it, please do and tag me, I love reading about other writers :)

[weshallc]

BERNS NIGHT.

CHAPTR TWO: THE BONNIE LAD THAT’S FAR AWA’.

A Crown Jewels AU Call the Midwife  fanfiction. 

Thank you for the lovely response to the return trip to Poplar-on-Tweaven. We are back to the original time-line and hopefully more Burn’s Night traditions will become clear for you and Val. They will become more familiar as we go on, probably another two, maybe three chapters because I am having so much fun!

Thanks to @roguesnitch for laughing in the right places and @lovetheturners for doing the same and pointing out when it all gets a bit too Scottish or even English!

“His Face With Smile Eternal Drest, Just Like The Landlord’s To His Guest’s, High As They Hang With Creaking Din, To Index Out The Country Inn.” Versicles On Sign-Posts by Robert Burns 1788

January 2020.

Fred Buckle clambered up from the cellar of the Crown Inn and perched his ample posterior on a bar stool wiping his forehead with an old bar towel he used when helping Paddy exchange the old barrels for new. Violet tutted as she placed a sausage sandwich and a mug of tea on the bar in front of him.

“Sure you don’t want one, Paddy.”

“No, I am fine Vi, just a cuppa, cheers. I had breakfast with Bernie before she went on her rounds.”

“I will have another one, Violet”

“I am sure you won’t Reggie you scoffed that back like there was no tomorrow, doesn’t your uncle feed you.”

No one replied to this as everyone knew Violet fed them both, if not at the Crown, at either her home or Fred’s. To spare Violet’s blushes, Fred began.

“I have a little beauty brewing, be just right for Burns Night, Doc.”

“Burn’s Night?” questioned Vi.

“Yep, soon comes around after Christmas, Vi. Be Valentines before we know it.” He winked and Vi wiped a cloth under Paddy’s mug and straightened the bar towel.

“Fred, I don’t think so, not this year anyway.” Paddy added, trying not to look at Val, who was checking the mixer fridge with visibly shaking shoulders.

“But we always do a Burns Night it’s tradition,” protested Fred.

“No, we haven’t done one for the last couple of years Fred, not since Wilf took poorly.” Vi had regained her composure.

“Well, it’s about time we did again.” Fred was like a dog with a bone or in this case a sausage.

Val also more composed now, looked at Vi, who was in turn looking at Paddy. Tim, who had been trying to clean all the chalk marks off the dart scoreboard under Evie’s instruction, looked at his mentor and they both moved closer to the bar.

“Look, I know, Bernie. She won’t be upset because her dad’s not here to do the twiddly bits. She wouldn’t still be in Poplar if she was worried about being reminded of her dad.”

“Always wondered why she was still in Poplar,” Tim smirked and Evie frowned at him deciding it was time to enlighten everyone.

“The reason we haven’t had a Burns Night since Reverend Wilf died is because we have no one to address the Haggis.”

“Well, Mr T could do it,” Reggie chirped in as Paddy went pale.

“Yeah, you’ll like that boss,” Val added, “any excuse to slope off and leave me on my todd behind the bar. I presume Lorraine Kelly won’t be working either.”

Evie and Vi sighed in unison.

“What,” said Val.

Paddy turned to her, but before he could speak, Val interrupted,

“Don’t tell me you are scared of haggis as well as alpacas.”

Tim, Reggie and a lurking Jack found this highly amusing, but Evie had had enough.

“No, it’s not that, it really should be a Scot that addresses the haggis otherwise it’s just not going to sound right, a bit like well like when Captain Kirk sang Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds.”

“Isn’t that your ringtone, Tim?” Jack smirked. Tim ignored him as per se.

“Weezer doing Africa,” Val was beginning to understand.

“Miley Cyrus doing Nirvana,” Tim added, still ignoring Jack.

“But, Bernie is Scottish!” added Reggie optimistically

“Yes, but it’s traditionally a man,” Vi said nervously.

“Oh, well, heaven forbid we bring Poplar into the 21st century,” Val cried. “How do you know all this anyway, you two?”

“We have been doing this for years. Wilf was a member of the Burns Society. Val you were there at the last one we had, must have been?” Violet explained.

“Oh, I was there alright, working behind the bar, sorry if I didn’t have time to memorize ancient Scottish protocol while fighting off the thirsty English hoards.”

“Can we all just calm down,” Paddy sounded exasperated, and it wasn’t even ten o’clock. “Look, I appreciate while Wilf was alive and in Evie’s time we celebrated Burns Night.” He continued a little firmer. “Me and Mazz tried to keep it going as long as Wilf was around, but he is gone. Let's be honest Wilf arranged everything even the piper was his mate from Kelso. Do you have his number Evie? I know I don't.” The ex-landlady shook her head. “Come on, let's admit it we are just pissing in the wind.”

“Dad.”

“But it’s for Bernie, you do know it’s also her birthday,” Val said sulkily.

“Yes. I do know, and if I know Bernie, she would rather just go to the pictures and a Parmo then all this fuss,”

“Would she really?” grumbled Val.

“Dad.”

“I do know how to prepare a good Burns supper, never had any complaints in all the years.” Vi sounded defeated.

“I brewed some ale specially.” Fred’s tone was flat in a way his beer never was.

“Dad.”

“Paddy is right. Burns Night was Wilf’s night gave him a chance to show off without having to stand behind a pulpit.” Evie reminisced. “For one night only, he could be Wilf Mannion in a kilt and not Poplar’s vicar in a dog collar. If we can’t do it properly, we shouldn’t do it at all.” Evie nodded toward Paddy.

Thank you, he mouthed in return.

“Dad.”

“Does anyone else think we are overthinking this.” Val never took no for an answer,

“Yes.” Reggie cried.

“Basically, all we need is someone who is Scottish, I mean if I have to hike up to the Borders myself and toss one over my shoulder and bring em back I will,” Val quipped,

“Dad.”

“Not now, Tim.”

“But Dad.”

“Not now, Tim.”

“Do they have to be 100% Scottish?” Tim asked facing Vi and Evie who seemed to be the authority on this. They looked at each other, but Val stepped in.

“I don’t know Tim,  I will  just look at the rule book. Oh, look at that there isn’t one”

“I think we would settle for a left bollock’s worth right now,” muttered a despondent Fred.

“Fred, there is no need to be vulgar! Reggie don’t listen to him.” Vi reprimanded.

“I could do it then,” said Tim.

“You have a Scottish bollock, Turner. Does Lucy know?”

“Jack Smith!” Scalded Violet as Reggie chuckled.

“No, Smithy, but my Gran was Scottish.”

Tim blushed from the neck up as is the way of teenage boys when the whole room is looking at them.

“Your gran, so Marianne’s mother,” Evie enquired.

“No, Dad’s mam.”

All eyes moved towards Paddy, who seemed to lose as much colour as Tim had gained.

“OK, so I don't think we are going to get any further today. We open in 5 everyone back to work.”

[scouts-mockingbird]

So in the Mark and Mazz au was there an adjustment period where Mazz had to realize that Mark wasn't really Harry?

Like his personality wasn’t like Harry’s? No, because in the au Mark and Mazz become friends before Mazz realizes that Mark is Harry. I wrote a fic about it!

[scouts-mockingbird]

I was going to threaten to write angst of the Mark and Mazz au but looks like you've been motivated so I've been stopped (for now)

The last thing I need right now is angst. I have enough misery in my real life. 

[scouts-mockingbird]

Vacation fic with your Mark and Mazz AU (it don't have to be shippy)

I wish I knew enough about disney land to have ideas about the crew going on a road trip to California for theme parks and fun. I know it would be great though. Mazz would probably get banned. Actually they’d all probably get banned, but it was Mazz’s fault. 

[scouts-mockingbird]

Mazz/Chris with whichever questions you want cause I'm having trouble picking they're all p good ones

8. In a coffee shop AU, who would be the coffee shop employee and who would be the customer?

Mazz owns a very cool coffee shop/record store across the street from where Chris works as a beleaguered professor. 

14. Who would make a playlist for the other person? What would be featured on the playlist?

Chris enlists Mark’s help to make a playlist for Mazz’s birthday. It’s a very eclectic mix.