#Timothy turner

[amira-house]

In the anti-fairy world, without anyone being aware, a baby was born; loved by his parents, especially by his father, who would do anything to protect his family...

[shelaghdette]

shelagh + holding her babies for the first time ♡

[mg-bsl381]

In 1962 Timothy Turner's explanation is simple (6.1)

In 1969 medical student Timothy Turner has more detailed reasoning (13.8)

Poplar residents please aware -

Timothy Turner will NOT dispense antibiotics over the telephone.

(No one would dare ask this of Miss Higgins!)

[weshallc]

Call the Midwife: Patrick & Timothy Turner.

[ilovemushystuff]

🎼🎻🎼

[miss-ute]

s02e09 II s13e05

[hey-lady]

I know this is normally @miss-ute’s forte, but I rewatched the s2 Christmas special on a different streaming service today, and there were extended turandette scenes???? And different wedding music???

Also, sir, please…

“He’s counting the days till you move in…and so am I.”

[couldpolyamorysavethem]

A.J., CHESTER MCBADBAT, and TIMOTHY "TIMMY" TURNER from FAIRLY ODDPARENTS

Justification:

"rip chester and aj u got reduced to cameos" - Anonymous

[ctmwidower]

A little while later...

Miss Higgins and the Tortoise

Did Patrick ask Timothy to take the tortoise to Miss Higgins because he'd anticipated her initial reaction?

CtM Christmas Special 2023 (1968)

[procrastinatingalways]

New Story Alert! Here is the first chapter for a new Turnadette AU called Families, throwing it all the way back to season 2 and taking some different twists and turns from the show. I hope you all enjoy.

[amira-house]

In a different universe, Cosmo and Wanda had Timmy as their biological son, deciding to hide in the human world and live as humans...

[causetheturtle]

Call the Midwife is just not leaving my brain right now

[mg-bsl381]

Shelagh's new glasses (13.1 & 2.1)

The differences between men and women or maybe just the inattentiveness of the Turner men!

Also Shelagh had the same glasses for 11 years

(the upswept frame 1958 - 1969)

[weshallc]

Call the Midwife: I don’t think a tortoise could teach Timothy Turner much else about life and death at Christmas.

[ilovemushystuff]

Young Mr Turner

[fixomnia-scribble]

I hate to pester again, but would you share another bit of 'My Fortress Be'? It's been quite a week, and we need some cheering!

It's never a bother! Continuing on from the last snippet, in which Shelagh has just arrived at Patrick's house in the middle of the night:

“I did think perhaps I should have gone to the Leopold to help,” she admitted. “But…” 

“They know how to manage,” he said quietly. She nodded and her fingers tightened slightly on each other. He smiled and reached out to take one chilly little hand in his. “I’m glad you came. We’ll be all right here. No casualties, you say?” And he led her from the front hall into the house. They spoke in whispers and tiptoed down the carpeted hallway, so as not to rouse Timothy. 

“Not that I heard, but the power’s been shut off, so there’s likely to be falling injuries and abrasions coming. There’ll be sick and elderly at the Leo, too, and several expectant mothers - and you know what the stress will be like for them.”

They were at the door of his room. She’d never been inside till now, though she’d peered in the doorway a few times. He nodded her ahead of him as matter-of-factly as he could, and she stood looking around in the dark. It was simply furnished and starting to look like a bachelor’s room, as little by little the decorative and homey touches of Marianne were overlaid by convenience. 

The light was off, but he’d clearly kicked aside untucked blankets and sheets, and his clothes from the day before were still draped over a chair. It couldn’t be helped now. At least his underthings had made it into the laundry basket. He wondered if Shelagh was comparing it with her own pristine little room. He decided that if she was, then she was likely also mentally tidying up and adding a few bright touches of her own. It was a cheering thought.

He reached for his dressing gown, always ready across the foot of the bed, and slung it on quickly, in the cold. 

“I’d better dress and stay up,” he whispered. “The lav’s all yours if you want to change, too, and then you must get some more rest. I’ll be done in a jif and we’ll make some tea and get you settled.”

She looked at a bit of a loss. “Well, the thing is, Patrick, my dress box is all I picked up on the way out. I’d meant to go to the Leo and work. I hadn’t thought to come here until I did. So I’m not packed for a night away. Fair glaikit av me. Didn’t we always used to keep a bag ready by the door.”

He grinned. “If I didn’t know you better, my darling - but fear not. The house can provide.”

Quietly easing open the bottom drawer of his dresser, he pulled out a set of pyjamas and passed them up to her. She took them and held them against her.

“Go 'round me twice, these will.”

“At least you’ll be the warmer.”

For a heartbeat the hushed intimacy hit them both, and they shared a smile. How many late nights would they spend talking here, in the future? He’d rather have her curled up in his bed, in his arms (in his pyjamas, or not), but at least she was here.

He meant to dress quickly, and then keep awake to listen for the phone and door. He’d settle her back to sleep in his still-warm bed till morning dawned properly. But -

“What’s going on?” demanded Timothy. They both jumped guiltily. Timothy stood in dressing gown and slippers, hands in his pockets, looking from one to the other of them for a clue. “Hello, Auntie Shelagh. It’s shockingly late.”

“Or early.” she smiled reassuringly. “Did we wake you?”

“No, I woke up all hot. I’m all right now.”

Shelagh’s palm was on his son’s forehead before he finished speaking. She nodded approvingly. “Well, if you’re up now, you might as well hear.”

The moment had swung from an intimate glimpse of the future to a drawing-room farce, Patrick thought. “Timothy, can you and Auntie Shelagh see about some tea? I need to dress in case I’m wanted. She can tell you what’s going on.”

“Aye, gie’s a haun w’ th’ brew.” she steered Timothy out of the room.

“Was that Scots?”

“Aye, ya wee loon.”

“What did you call me?”

“Young lad, that means.”

“Ya wee loon,” he practiced. “I’m calling Jack that, next time I see him.”

He smiled to see Timothy lean in as Shelagh wrapped an arm around his shoulders. Tim was getting to be a big boy, and he’d been a little sullen and quiet as of late, but he’d missed having a mother, and cuddling up with one in the middle of the night was clearly still special. 

He watched till they were down the hallway before he closed his door. He dressed hastily and halfway, ready enough to finish up for a middle-of-the-night callout, and listened to them puttering in the kitchen. Timothy’s voice sounded more excited and interested than scared, thanks probably to Shelagh’s clear, calm explanation and the prospect of a bomb, which he’d never known raining down from the skies except in stories. 

If Poplar needed its district GP on hand, Timothy would have to be a day-evacuee at the Leo with the other children. Unless Shelagh was willing to stay home with him. Which, it appeared, was her plan.