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thebettybook · 1 year ago

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Planning to write a Miguel x fem!reader fic inspired by the Disney Enchanted movie where fem!reader is someone in their mid-to-late 20s who moved to Nueva York to become a fairytale/fancy wear designer. BUT they keep getting rejected from fashion studios and fashion houses in Nueva York so they have a part-time job as a princess party cosplayer/performer for children’s birthday parties.

However, that job doesn’t pay reader much and reader gets kicked out of their apartment because they’re wayyy behind on rent. After getting kicked out, reader (who’s still in full princess cosplay with a gown and a tiara and everything from working at a party earlier in the day before getting kicked out) is sitting on a bench or something at night with their suitcase, worrying about what they’re gonna do next.

Cue Miguel O’Hara (CEO of Alchemax or a lawyer, I haven’t really thought about it yet) (also a 31-year-old single dad) and Gabriella (adorable six-year-old who loves princesses and fairytales) walking out of an ice cream shop.

And to keep this whole fic idea in the spirit of the Enchanted movie, Miguel in this fic is like Robert from the movie where Miguel doesn’t believe in fairytales or “happily ever afters” because his previous wife/fiancée who’s Gabriella’s biological mom left them or passed away when Gabi was just a few days old.

Gabi sees reader and runs up to her, thinking reader is a real princess. Reader and Gabi have a cute conversation where reader pretends to be a princess to indulge Gabi.

Miguel comes up to reader and Gabi, telling Gabi not to run off on her own and talk to strangers. Gabi points at reader’s suitcase, telling Miguel, “But the princess has nowhere to go. Can we take her home with us?”

Gabi INSISTS that reader stays with them (Gabi’s always wanted a mom and with six-year-old logic, who would make a better mom than a real-life princess??). Miguel eventually relents in letting reader stay with them because 1. He’s always taught Gabriella the importance of helping others, 2. You don’t seem like a threat and you just seem like a genuinely lost soul in need of some help in Nueva York, and 3. The penthouse he and Gabi live in has an extra room that you could use.

Thus, cue slow-burn romance between Miguel and reader where reader helps to remind Miguel that while life can come with some of the greatest pains, it can come with some of the most magical moments as well.

A couple of my other notes:

- Thinking of incorporating a scene where reader sews a gown for Gabi’s seventh birthday a few months after staying with Gabi and Miguel (because Gabi’s always talking about how she wants to look like a princess just like reader :’)). Scene would include a cute moment with Miguel and reader, where reader is sewing late at night and Miguel just got back home from work, and he tells you stories about when Gabi was a baby as well as stories about himself that make you both laugh

- I’m planning to make Lyla a human in her late 20s who’s a fashion mogul for the biggest fashion house and magazine in Nueva York. She’s like a younger sister to Miguel and Gabi calls her “Auntie Lyla.” Lyla calls Gabi her “favorite O’Hara” haha

- Lots of Gabi trying to play matchmaker for her dad and reader hehe

- I’m debating on incorporating the rest of the ATSV crew. Like maybe Peter B and Jess can be Miguel’s coworkers in this fic

- As for the younger Spider crew, I could write Gwen as an intern at Miguel’s company who is interning under Jess, and Miles is interning under Peter B, while Margo is interning for Lyla. Pavitr wouldn’t be interning for anyone, but comes to Lyla’s building often since his gf Gayatri models for Lyla’s fashion magazine. And Hobie’s not working for anyone, but he’s good friends with Gwen and just likes to hang around Miguel’s company to annoy Miguel

- ^ And to incorporate the younger Spider crew into this fic, Miguel taking reader to meet Lyla only for reader to end up helping style a shoot with Gayatri in it (reader also meets Pavitr) and Lyla notices reader’s talent and passion for gown design. Then Miguel takes reader to his workplace, where reader tries to play matchmaker for Gwen and Miles (reader notices that they have a crush on each other)

- And it’s just these little moments and more time spent together where Miguel can’t help but marvel at the warmth and kindness you exude and extend to everyone you meet—your ability to instantly make anyone smile and feel good about themselves as if by magic. And it’s moments like these where Miguel begins to fall for you little by little

- And you can’t help but fall for Miguel more and more when you see his dedication to helping others through his work + his endless love for his daughter. While you and Miguel have vastly different career passions and interests, you both ultimately want to help others (Miguel through either being a lawyer who helps people or being CEO of Alchemax where he develops more sustainable technology to help others, and you wanting to help people from all walks of life feel more confident in themselves through the clothes you create)

- Just so much fluff and cute found family trope where reader loves Gabi like their own daughter :’)

- I gotta finish my “A Renaissance of Romance” Miguel x reader fic but I’m def putting this whole new fic idea up to flesh it out soon. Lemme know if you wanna be tagged for this Enchanted inspired fic :)

#strawbetty storytime #strawbetty says #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara x fem!reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara fluff #across the spiderverse #atsv #atsv miguel #atsv x reader

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thrashkink-coven · 1 year ago

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Hi all,

Welcome to the last part of my 2024 altar tour! 4/4

What a year it has been! I have learned so much and made so many new friends! My altar has always been a reflection of my psyche, seeing it’s beauty reminds me of the beauty that exists within me. :)

So this is my final little work space where I do pendulum magick and tarot readings. There is a devotional mug to Lord Lucifer which I use for our morning coffee chats. There is also Lucifer’s devotional dragon statue, as well as the dual scrying mirror for him and Faviel.

There is a normal mirror and a statue of a pharaoh’s tomb. The board which the flowers and offerings are placed on dawns Faviel’s sigil and candle. To Faviel I have offered a palm stone, flowers, an acorn, smoky quartz, some black earrings, and some grubs.

Beside him is my pendulum in a selenite charging bowl along with my pendulum mat.

The black and white image you see was a piece of art I made for Archangel Jophiel after he gifted me a vision a year or so ago. I use it whenever I’m reaching out to him.

Beneath my altar is some space for storage where I keep my larger cauldron, mortar and pestle, larger candles, etc. There is also my stand where I keep my broom, fire poker, and shovel. My witch broom is wrapped in a protective seal. I use it to sweep ash from my prayer mat.

And finally, here are a few of the books I have in my collection that have greatly greatly aided me in my craft. Remember to do your research my dears!

The Arbatel of Magick- First English edition 1633, new edition 2013, edited by Earl Marwick

Healing with Form, Energy, and Light- Tenzin Wangyal Rinpoche

Gods and Goddesses- Hallam, Elizabeth

The Lesser Key of Solomon- S.L MacGregor Mathers and Aleister Crowley

The Dictionary of Alchemy- Diana Fernando

The Art of Angels- Howard Loxton

Backland’s Book of Spirit Communications- Raymond Buckland

Transcendental Magick- Éliphas Lévi

The Greater Key of Solomon- S.L MacGregor Mathers

A History of God- Karen Armstrong

A Dictionary of Angels, Including Fallen Angels- Gustav Davidson

Making Talismans- Nick Farrell

The Sixth and Seventh Books of Moses- Johann Scheibel

The Egyptian Book of the Dead

The Rise and Fall of the Nephilim- Scott Alan Roberts

Buckland’s Complete Book of Witchcraft- Raymond Buckland

Candle Burning Rituals- Raymond Buckland

The Complete Book of Black Magick and Witchcraft

Green Witchcraft, Folk Magick, Fairy Lore & Herb Craft- Ann Moura

The Book of Forbidden Knowledge, Black Magick, Superstition, Charms and Divination- First Edition 1910s Johnson Smith & co. New Edition 2016 edited by Earl Marwick

Three Books of Occult Philosophy- Henry Cornelius Agrippa

and of course, The Holy Bible- New Living Translation.

I have many other books in my collection on tarot and astrology in my living room, but these are the books that have had the greatest impact on my craft. Here are a few of those other ones:

Love Potions- Tatania Hardie

The Book of Destinies- Jane Struthers

The Crystal Bible 2- Judy Hall

The Tarot Bible- Sarah Barlett

The Wicca Bible- Ann Marie Gallagher

Cunningham’s Encyclopedia of Magical Herbs- Scott Cunningham

Magic and Medicine of Plants- Reader’s Digest

The Power of Birthdays Stars and Numbers- Saffi Crawford and Geraldine Sullivan

The Witches’ Goddess- Janet and Stewart Farrar

The Witches’ God- Janet and Stewart Farrar

•••

I wanted to end this tour off with my reading material because I want to emphasize how important it is to understand that “magick” is not just “stuff”.

I really enjoy all of my magical tools and there’s absolutely nothing wrong with having and wanting pretty things or an aesthetically pleasing altar. In fact I believe aesthetic and care are acts of love in themselves. Don’t ever let someone shame you for wanting to decorate and indulge in the aesthetics of your craft.

But please do remember that our greatest magical tool is our minds, our senses, and our experiences- our brains. Remember to read read read lots of material from many different sources. Contemplate honestly on everything you read, hear and experience. Do not take everything you believe today as a fact, do not box yourself in to anything. (Maybe that’s the Luciferian in me speaking lol)

Learn how to do magick alone, without any tools. My magick is not my stuff, although my stuff greatly aids me in my magick. Does that make sense?

Thank you so much for reading! I look forward to growing and learning so much more this year! :)

Blessed be!

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gallescouture · 2 years ago

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She was wild and vivid in a cautious and pale world, always burning a little more brightly than anyone around her. Her husband was beguiled by the dazzle she left in her wake. She made people into happier, bolder versions of themselves. She made her husband into a better man - Carole Radziwill

Carolyn was as charismatic as John was. Charisma, you know, was once a theological term meaning 'grace’! And she had that. I was also impressed with the fact that she was a bit eccentric. She was not conventional in any sense. She reminded me of Jackie in her quirkiness and in her unbelievable capacity to engage one's attention. Carolyn had Jackie's ability to be talking to six people at one time, and make everyone feel like the only one in the room - John Perry Barlow

Bam! In walks the hottest girl I'd ever seen in my life. Tall, bright blond, in loose-fitting jeans and a big blue shirt, she literally glowed. She said hello and turned to John. From somewhere, he pulled out a cigarette-a sure sign he was a wreck because he rarely smoked. Carolyn whipped out her lighter, a Zippo with the words BLUE EYES engraved on it, and lit John's cigarette. She told us she'd gotten the lighter from an old boyfriend, which made me think of roadkill. I asked her, pretending fear, "What happened to him?" She laughed sweetly. I learned later that Carolyn was completely aware of the effect she had on people and chose to disarm or disturb them as she saw fit. That night she chose to leave me hanging. I had trouble looking her in the eye - Robert Littell

Happy (belated) Heavenly Birthday to Carolyn Bessette-Kennedy. She would’ve been 57 yesterday!

#carolyn bessette #carolyn bessette kennedy

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theladyofshalott1989 · 11 months ago

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Damien Andrew Evans (My OC/MC from the Like Moths to a Flame series)

*I modeled his character off of a young Garrett Hedlund. Here are some photos of Garrett (one with his hair down long - LMtaF Damien - and one with his hair short - BB Damien):

I wrote this in a frenzy last night (referencing my already copious notes from the past… hmm… eleven months??? WHAT), so I apologize if it reads like word-vomit (LMAO). BUT, without further ado, here is my Damien info-dump. Damien is my OC from my series, Like Moths to a Flame, which I started on Wattpad in March 2023. Check it out if you are so inclined (AO3 link because AO3 is better…please don’t hate me, Wattpad police haha).

General Info:

Born and raised in London

Lives in a huge estate in Mayfair

Father’s family comes from old money

Birthday: 13th December 1874

Mother: Mary REDACTED Evans (yes, redacted because it’s a spoiler for Burning Bright)

Died shortly after Damien turned two

Father: Andrew Robert Evans

Magistrate in London

Workaholic, doesn’t interact much with his son, leaves him to his own devices the majority of the time (he is very lucky Damien is a good boy; the shenanigans Damien could have gotten up to if he was so inclined…lmao)

Half-blood (only found this out after he came to Hogwarts; his mother never shared this information with his father)

Only child

Personality:

ENFP (apparently) (thanks Myers-Briggs test!) Fueled by interaction with others (being an only child and spending most of his time alone during the summer holidays deeply damaged him)

Attracted to the same sex (and has known this for as long as he can remember)

Alas, he is super self-conscious about his sexual orientation, having grown up in Muggle London, where being gay is a crime. He is also quite secretive because of it; he wants to open up more to people (it’s in his nature) but is hesitant until he feels he can trust them fully. This can take a while.

Nearly everything he does, he always has this nagging thought in the back of his mind (it follows him literally everywhere): Would my mother be proud of me? (He has never told anyone this; it also haunts him immensely)

Highly intuitive

Very forgiving (arguably to a fault) of anyone he grows to love and trust

Feels very deeply, but, again, he tries his best to hide it. Something must be terribly wrong or extremely upsetting for him to cry in a public setting.

Not very organized (also has a problem with tardiness), EXCEPT when he is at home. He doesn’t want to make a mess for the servants, so he is extremely meticulous and clean when he’s home for the summer. Any other time, he couldn’t care less (LMAO). Physical Description:

Very unique brown eyes with golden flecks in them (Seb is absolutely obsessed)

Taller than average (a little taller than Sebastian, much to Sebastian’s chagrin)

Long blonde hair (just past his shoulders) that he keeps tied back in a low bun (his preferred style)

Sebastian would much rather he wear it down and loose (he is quite vocal about this), but he eventually is like fine…you do you, fam

In Burning Bright, Damien has to cut his hair short so his father isn’t suspicious. He has a cute little tuft at the top of his head that sometimes cascades across his face, which Sebastian is enamored with

(Eton, the all-boys boarding school Damien attended before Hogwarts, has strict uniform and hygiene protocols and would never permit him to wear his hair long; Damien’s father thinks he is still attending Eton so he must keep up appearances)

Lithe but muscular, a testament to how active he is when he arrives at Hogwarts. His go-to when he’s not in classes is to ride his broom around the Scottish Highlands and complete Merlin Trials. He is obsessed with finding and completing them all. (What a Ravenclaw…)

Ample arse though (LMAO) which Sebastian loves… (Seb is an arse-man; you’re welcome HAHAHAHA)

Tan from being outdoors most of the time

Sharp jawline, broad neck and chest, prominent collarbone (he is quite thin), very angular features

Light spoiler for stories post-Burning Bright: Older Damien is a bit heavier in adulthood (and Seb loves this development)

Magic Reveal:

Damien never had one of those “oh shit what just happened???” magical moments, so when Fig showed up on his doorstep with his Hogwarts letter at the very beginning of the summer in 1890, Damien thought it was a joke. When Fig did some magic for him to convince him, Damien lost his goddamn mind. He was thrilled, but also terrified. Fig told him not to worry, that he could stay with him over the summer to prepare Damien for the school year.

Damien’s father was (unsurprisingly) not home when Fig arrived. Damien also asked Fig not to say anything to his father. Fig sensed there was some tension between Damien and his father and agreed (for the time being). Eventually, once Fig got to know Damien better, he decided Damien was right and it was for the best that his father didn’t know about his magic. This was the moment when Damien realized he could fully trust Fig. Surrogate father/son bond activated <3

Their backstory (if Damien’s father asked) for why Damien was gone over the summer was that he was traveling with a friend from Eton. Damien’s father was hella neglectful and didn’t even bother to ask, which to be fair, made things super easy for Damien and Fig (LMAO).

Likes:

The color green

Flying (he loves how freeing it is and the feeling of the wind in his hair)

DADA is his favorite class (his early dueling wins probably played a factor; poor Damien didn’t have a lot of wins in his life prior to coming to Hogwarts, well…besides being rich AF LOL)

CATS (dude adores cats to the EXTREME; he would love to adopt all of the ones he finds wandering around Hogwarts and Hogsmeade; I even have a headcanon that very early on in his time at Hogwarts he smuggles a cat into his room - a room which he shares with Amit, Everett, and Andrew, mind you. Unfortunately, Amit is allergic, so that plan goes to hell in a handbasket rather quickly.)

Magic (obviiiiiii); he still can’t believe his luck that he’s at Hogwarts

The Wizarding World and how accepting it is of all forms of love. He cannot believe his lucky stars that he can be openly affectionate with Sebastian. It even takes him a while to realize this because no one straight up told him and Sebastian at first wants to keep their relationship on the down low since he’s still trying to figure out if Damien feels as strongly about Sebastian as Sebastian feels about Damien. Silly boys #idiotsinlove

Dislikes:

Herbology (he SUCKS at it; Sebastian and Damien have this in common, but Damien is much, much worse. He never uses magical plants in his duels because he is bitter about how bad he is at growing them and doesn’t want to spend money buying them at the Magic Neep hahaha)

Close-minded people (which is why he is understandably upset and confused by Sebastian’s very vocal hatred of goblins; it nearly ends any potential of a relationship from that point forward, but Seb does eventually apologize more than once *PHEW*)

Dark Mongrels, and to a certain extent dogs (le sigh) (light spoiler for Burning Bright so I won’t go into detail about it)

Interactions with Other Characters:

Fig -

Fig was the father Damien always wanted. Supportive, understanding, a wealth of knowledge. Losing him was absolutely devastating; it nearly broke Damien.

Natty -

Besides Sebastian, Damien’s second kindred spirit. When Sebastian and Damien aren’t on good terms for a large swathe of Like Moths to a Flame, they are joined at the hip. Sebastian even worries that they might be a couple at one point and is very jelly. (C’mon Seb, read the freaking room!)

Poppy -

Damien likes Poppy but is a bit intimidated by her. He still really enjoys her company, just in moderation. Ominis -

Damien willfully ignored him before they officially met. He didn’t realize it at the time, but eventually comes to the conclusion that he was jealous that Ominis was best friends with Sebastian. Notably, he easily sensed that Ominis wasn’t into Sebastian romantically, so that was a relief at the very least. Damien was super annoyed by Ominis after the encounter post-Undercroft. He couldn’t understand how someone could lose their temper so easily. Eventually, they do bond… hilariously, it’s Ominis that makes the effort to get to know Damien better. (Of course Ominis knows that Seb and Damien are snogging; he’s ~scary~ perceptive; at first Ominis is just vetting Damien in a protective “I need to make sure you’re a good person for my best friend” kind of way, but then he eventually realizes he enjoys being in Damien’s company. Likewise Damien to Ominis. They eventually also bond over classic music (Ominis lets Damien borrow his gramophone every so often and they sometimes even listen to it together.)

Amit, Everett, and Andrew -

Damien’s roomies! He likes Amit and Everett a lot, but definitely has more in common with Everett since they are both obsessed with flying. Damien even buys Everett a broom so he can stop using a school one. Damien finds Amit a bit awkward, but in an endearing way. He would beat someone up for realsies though if he ever overheard anyone make fun of him.

Andrew and Damien don’t really care about each other either way. Andrew hangs out in different crowds. They don’t talk much.

And yes, I realize that Duncan Hobhouse is also in Ravenclaw, but I've decided he has his own room. Damien finds him annoying, even though Everett is friends with him for some reason lmao.

Sebastian - HOOOO BOY HERE WE GO Damien fell for Sebastian HARD almost immediately after meeting him (their dialogue after the match in DADA was such a turn-on hahaha). He really struggled to play it cool that entire exchange though. He does succeed (sigh), but later… um… goes back to his room and yeah, in my headcanon he furiously does what you would expect lmao.

Sebastian immediately found Damien intriguing BUT he was not sure why. He had always appreciated the beauty of both genders, but he had only ever been with a girl so it never even crossed his mind that he could be romantically interested in Damien. He didn’t realize until <BIG SPOILER FOR LIKE MOTHS TO A FLAME> Damien asked Seb to kiss him in the Undercroft. Once their lips touched, Sebastian had one of those *connect the dots <Charlie from It’s Always Sunny at the blackboard scribbling nonsense> moments* and is like… OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. And then he just rolled with it. Doesn’t question it at all he’s so confident in what happened. Damien is immediately his. MINE MINE MINE seagulls from Finding Nemo gif.

Unfortunately, Dark Magic was a HUGE cockblock (*sad face*) and their budding relationship combusted to the extreme. Damien was devastated but would NEVER admit it so he lost himself in his other friendships (thank you for being there Natty, you QUEEN). As we all know, Sebastian sucks at expressing himself (LMAO say it louder for those in the back), so he avoided Damien like the plague and stewed in his anger. But he is confused and upset and just a turmoil of emotions and it plagues him. A proverbial storm cloud follows him everywhere he goes.

And then all hell breaks loose with the relic (DAMN YOU RELIC), BUT Damien and his strong intuition senses something is up and realizes that Seb is not himself. He activates stealth mode and becomes Seb’s shadow without Seb realizing, following him around and making sure he is okay. After the catacomb ~incident~, Damien won’t let him out of his sight and refuses to permit him to head back to the castle alone. In fact, it scares him so much that once they make it back to the castle, Damien has an OH SHIT I LOVE HIM BUT HE JUST MURDERED SOMEONE moment and he is so lost in his thoughts that Sebastian runs off. This haunts Damien immensely because he is so worried that Sebastian is going to hurt himself. And then, of course, he gets all caught up in the repository / goblin invasion stuff that he is distracted, but he still follows Sebastian around when he can. #sneakyDamien

And I’m not going to go into further detail because massive spoilers for the end of Like Moths to a Flame hahahaha.

***

So, that’s my Damien. He is my ~goodest~ boy. And he has definitely stolen my heart. <3

#oc character #hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow x male mc #sebastian sallow x mc #queer fanfiction #hogwarts legacy fanfic

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biscuits-of-bagend · 4 months ago

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DnDoc, The Loch o' the Lowes #2 - The Ettrick Shepherd

Part 1

Previous stories: DnDoc, Coming Home DnDoc, Space Band DnDoc, A Man's a Man DnDoc, The God of Rock 'n' Roll

---

Once they'd all extricated themselves from their wetsuits back in the TARDIS, they climbed very carefully back onto the paddle board in shorts and t-shirts and took it across to the north side of the loch. If they hurried, they could grab dinner from the café in the lochside cabin before it closed for the evening. The Doctor also said he wanted to introduce the others to an old friend, though he was being sufficiently cryptic about it that Rogue didn't think it was going to be straightforward.

There was a bit of a queue at the café - the slightest sunny day in Scotland seemed to bring the population out in droves - so they decided to go statue first, food after. The Doctor took them across the car park, over a row of giant boulders at the boundary, then into a patch of long grass with a path mown through it. The path took them up a small incline then around the face of a low wooden wall. Rogue had been watching the ground to make sure his slightly tired feet went in the right places, but now he looked up at the enormous marble statue on a high, stocky column.

It obviously wasn't as tall as a magnificent column in the middle of a city or something - if it was it would probably hit the tree cover - but because you were standing right next to it, it felt mightily imposing. The marble figure on top was sitting on a marble rock, with a marble plaid thrown over his shoulder and an adorable marble dog at his side. On the sides of the column, which the Doctor gestured for them to follow him around, there were a few couplets of simple poetry in memory to James Hogg, the man depicted above.

"He was a nice lad," the Doctor said. "Terrible liar, but earnest about what he cared about. But at the same time not cheesy. He was oblivious in some ways, but startingly sharp in others."

"What do you mean bad liar?" Ruby said. "Did he mess you around?"

The Doctor laughed. "Oh, he's definitely not an ex. We had an argument up in the hills about ghosts once. I was absolutely shitting myself because I kept thinking I could hear things, and he kept rolling his eyes and asking me if I was a southern tourist. I was also white at the time, kind of don't want to know what he'd have said if it happened now. Who knows, maybe it'd have been fine, but I could imagine the word 'voodoo' being used, and not correctly.

"No, what he lied about was his birthday. He tried to convince people he had the same birthday as Robert Burns, but this was like, categorically untrue based on something previously published. Same thing again with conflicting autobiographical details about when he started writing poetry, god love him."

Ruby chuckled, but Rogue was distracted. There was never baking heat in Scotland, but he'd been quite warm ever since he towelled off. Whereas now he was shivering. He turned around to face the loch - well, lochs, since from this angle you could see both the Loch of the Lowes and St. Mary's Loch, which was connected to it via a narrow stream, or as it was known in Scotland, a burn. He was sure he could hear some sort of foghorn, but surely there were no boats around; no boat big enough to have a foghorn could have fitted down that burn. It was a low hum he could hear, not unlike the TARDIS, and it was coming from the water.

He turned back to face the statue. The Doctor had been watching him, and he put his hand on Rogue's upper arm.

"Hey, you okay?" said the Doctor, rubbing his hand up and down.

It occurred to Rogue that was the second time the Doctor had asked him that in the past hour.

I just want to have a nice day out, Ruby had said, a holiday from monsters and gods and stuff. If Scotland doesn't work out this time, I'll never ask to go there again.

Presumably, she didn't actually mean that forswearing of Scotland forever more, but Rogue still didn't want to ruin the mood of the afternoon, not when he didn't have any evidence that anything was wrong. Mind over matter, motion over mind.

Rogue put his hand over the Doctor's. "I'm okay, just hungry."

"Alright, let's go grab some toasties," said the Doctor.

"Sounds good." Rogue nodded.

They sat outside at a picnic table to eat their toasties and sip their tea. Rogue could have gone for some fish and chips, in all honesty, but the caravan-shaped café was charming and wildly convenient. Plus this ham and cheese toastie was delicious.

As the Doctor and Ruby chatted, Rogue kept hearing a buzzing echo. It was like someone on a video broadcast didn't realise they'd left their mic on so he was hearing the instructions and requests from a producer filtering through into some sports commentary or something. Except the content didn't concern programming schedules or pieces to camera.

Poor heartless man! And wilt thou lie

A prey to this devouring flame?

That thou possess not bonny May,

None but thyself has thou to blame.

He squeezed his eyes shut then opened them again, trying to shake the words out of his head but without anyone noticing.

O tempting spirit I beg of thee

These twisting arguments to desist

How dare thee bring thy heinous words

And compel this mind which pious ist?

Who were the voices talking to? Clearly not him. Whatever was going on was not meant to be overheard. His shoulders started to rise up around his ears and there was a sinking feeling in his stomach. Whoever this 'pious mind' was, he got the feeling it bloody well better resist or something terrible might be about to happen to 'bonny May.' More frighteningly, neither of the others had heard the voices. It was probably some fragment of poetry he half remembered, something his brain had dug out for him as a crisis response when he got scared in the water and when the Doctor started talking about ghosts. Gods, he was out of practice. He wondered if he'd even be any use as a bounty hunter at this point.

He looked out over the water, trying to hide his expression from his friends. Maybe he could just be a good tourist instead. He thought he saw a cottage in between the two lochs, but once again a blink took it away. He could find nothing solid to rest his mind upon.

He felt the Doctor's hand stroking his thigh as he and Ruby talked. Well, at least there was that. He took the Doctor's warm, strong hand and held it, waiting for the fear to pass and wishing he'd never gone swimming.

---

Part 3

The poem I'm referencing here is a ballad Hogg has collected and put his own spin on called Mess John. In the spirit of keeping balladry alive, the second verse is my own invention!

@off-traveling-in-the-stars @casavanse @monster-donut @randomwholocker (let me know at any point if you no longer wish to be tagged in each post)

#doctor who #fanfic #fanfiction #doctor who rogue #timerogue #scottish literature #scottish borders #james hogg

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sunnsartbook · 1 year ago

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“If she really survived, then i will find her and bring her back home...”

― Viktoria/Via (OC)

Viktoria's new Outfit after Rising + Character profile sheet:

After rumors appeared that her uncle mind got some informations about her Mother, Via corporates with him to find her missing Mother. So she traveled to Germany where her Mother may be living. On her journey in Germany she met an old Face. Robert Jürgens, asking him for help, he surprisingly accepted it and helped her research. Their search led both of them to a beyblading academy.

Here now some Profile Informations:

Viktoria Balkov:

Also Known As: Vik (by Tyson, Max,Ray and Ruben VdV-father)

Vikky (by Maxim (Brother/OC), Mike (OC)

Via (by Boris, Kai, Yuriy and Victoria-Mother)

Hair Color: Purple

Gender: Female

Age: 19-20

Birthday: August 1st

Occupation: Professional Blader, Coach of the BBA,

Leader of the MvM Team (OC)

Beyblade(s): Matari (defective)

Nebi (former/- NO Bit-Beast)

Family: Mother: Victoria Balkov (Unknown but

known as deceased)

Father: Ruben Van der Vaart (OC)

Uncle: Boris Balkov

Half-Brother: Maxim Van der Vaart (OC)

Unknown fiance

“Brother”: Yuriy

Allies: BBA, Bladebreakers, Yuriy, Bryan,

Spencer, Robert J. and MvM

Enemies/Rivals: Mao Wong (with reasons), Ming-Ming,

Brooklyn, Boris and Voltaire

Some Fun-Facts about Via:

-Sofiya was the name that her Mother choose for her. But her Uncle, choose the same Name as his Sisters: Viktoria.

-In an Battle against Kai, her Blade Matari, got Overheated. The attack she used was to strong and her Bit got destroyed. While collecting her Blade, she burned her left Hand.

-Via had some bronchial problems, thats why she wears an Neckscarf that she got as an present.

-Via hides the informations about her fiance.

#anime #oc #anime oc #beyblade #beyblade oc #bakuten shoot beyblade #oc sheets #oc profil

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maximumwobblerbanditdonut · 1 year ago

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What is this? an Outlander show in New York?

For Sam’s new American friends who have never been on a Burns supper, the Address to a Haggis has no sword ⚔️ but a knife 🔪 and it is not a drama 🎭 It’s an evocative ode that reaches its climax with theatrical stature when the artist wields a large knife, he declares: his knife sees the rustic work. The artist, deep in his feelings, recites “Address to a Haggis.”

To A Haggis (also known as Address To The Haggis and Ode To The Haggis) is a Scottish poem that is the centrepiece of every Burns' Supper (Burns' Nicht) celebrating the poet's birthday on 25th January 1759.

The Robert Burns poem Address to a Haggis is traditionally read. At the line ‘His knife see rustic Labour dicht’, whoever is reading the poem should draw and sharpen a knife. (you don't intimidate anyone with a knife or a sword) Then, as they read the line ‘An' cut you up wi' ready slicht’, they should plunge the knife into the haggis and cut it open from end to end.

Check out the video below and watch a different version at the National Museum of Scotland 👇

youtube

🎥 @smancin3 IG Stories

#Youtube

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m0ther-of-p3arl · 2 years ago

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i follow just to find you

(robert aeor high au p6)

masterpost

It’s hard to describe just how excited Jim is, the way he’s spinning in circles over and over and over again till he falls down, his dress flooding out around him like a halo. The way his eyes are brighter than Scott’s ever seen them. He must have genuine emotional attachment to the idea of seeing this movie; with the level of excitement he’s exhibiting, Scott can’t really think of another reason for it.

or, Scott, Jimmy, and Joel go to see spirited away (amazing movie btw) also Xornoth's return :00

(4699 words)

TW: self-hate, internalized homophobia, bullying

They’re all quiet on the drive to the movies, watching the scenery flash by out the windows of Joel’s car. Scott can’t help but feel that he’s broken something between him and Jimmy, and he can’t quite tell what, but something’s changed and he’s not sure if it’s for the better.

He can almost feel the awkwardness in the air, so thick he thinks he could freeze it with just a glance. He’s certain that Jimmy feels it too, scrunched up with his hands clasped tightly in his lap, posture straight and dress rumpled. But Joel… Scott supposes that he has to see that something’s wrong, how could he not, but all he’s doing up in the front is singing along quietly to the radio.

It’s been almost five minutes of sitting in silence and Scott cannot have the day go like this, he’s been looking forward to it for so long, and he knows Jim has as well. He needs to say something. So of course, when he opens his mouth, trying to break the silence, he just says the most boneheaded thing imaginable given the situation.

“Um. I like your dress,” he tries, immediately realizing his mistake. Oh, god, why? He wants to slap himself hard across the face, his cheeks are burning again, if everything wasn’t ruined, it certainly has to be now, right?

“I noticed,” Jimmy mutters, scrunching up his dress even further. Of course he’d noticed, Scott was literally staring at him, honestly what a dumb thing to say- “Uh, I would say I like what you’re wearing, but it’s really…” Jimmy continues. They both look down at Scott’s meager outfit, and Scott snorts.

And then he snickers. And then Jimmy starts to giggle his little chirping laugh, and Scott’s laughing so hard and so is Jim and Joel’s so confused, asking, “What are you doing? What on earth are you laughing about?” Which of course, just makes them guffaw harder, until Jimmy’s fallen over with his head leaning on Scott’s shoulder, and he’s suddenly painfully aware of the fact that he hasn’t laughed this hard in a long, long time.

Joel shakes his head knowingly from the front seat, and Jimmy coughs, hastily lifting his head from Scott’s shoulder. “Sorry,” the avian mutters.

“It’s fine, I don’t mind,” Scott fumbles, “Um, anyway, what movie are we seeing?”

“Oh!” Jimmy’s whole face lights up, and the corners of Scott’s mouth quirk up at the sight. “It’s a movie I’ve wanted to see for a really long time, ever since I was a little kid. I already know the whole plot, but you know, I’ve never seen it, so…”

“Yeah, I know the feeling,” Joel chimes in from the front seat. “Once, I was at Pearl’s birthday party and Lizzie was there, and oh did she look beautiful. We went out to a movie, all of us, and I sat by her and almost held her hand-”

“What on earth does that have to do with Jim’s movie?” Scott asks.

“Um, well, you see, a movie was a part of both of these situations-”

“Shut up, Joel,” Jimmy groans, rolling his eyes. “Anyway, the movie’s called Spirited Away, maybe you’ve heard of it?”

A flash of recognition goes off in Scott’s brain. “Yeah, I think I have- is it that one about the spirit bathhouse?”

“Yes!” Jimmy’s excited now, his eyes even wider than usual, his smile charming and genuine. “That’s it! How do you know it?”

“I used to go to the movies a lot, when I was younger,” Scott explains, “But then I… just kinda stopped, I guess.” He shrugs, and Jimmy nods in understanding. This isn’t the whole story, of course, it never is- the truth is that Father used to take Scott to the movies all the time just silly little thirty-minute flicks. It had been one of the only times of his childhood that he still holds dear, but now he’s seventeen and it’s slipped away, right out of his fingers. “Maybe I should be asking… how do you know Spirited Away?”

“Um, you know, I just saw a… a pamphlet.” Jimmy picks at his feathers, something of an anxious habit that Scott’s recognized from this past month. “Yeah, a pamphlet, back where I used to live. Patty would bring them to me sometimes, as, like, little gifts, I guess. And I was hooked when I saw the one for Spirited Away.”

“...I have questions,” Scott’s stuck between a smile and a frown, a weird half-state that he’s sure must make him look ridiculous. “Who’s Patty? And since when do movies have pamphlets?”

Jimmy’s mouth draws itself into a straight line, and Scott knows immediately that he’s messed up. “Patty was… my guardian, I guess. But we, uh, kinda split ways. I haven’t seen her in about a year. And your question about pamphlets is just silly. Of course movies have pamphlets. Where are you even from?”

Oh.

Suddenly, a lot of things Jimmy’s said in the last month make sense to Scott. The way he mentions that he hasn’t been flying long, the amount he doesn’t talk about his home life. Because Beks’ parents aren’t his parents. Scott supposes he should’ve known that in the first place, because he’s not really sure how genetics work, but he doesn’t think two owl avians could have a canary.

Scott’s not going to assume he’s suddenly correct about all of Jimmy’s past, but the one thing he is certain about is that Jimmy ran away from home at some point- probably about a year ago, from what he’s just said. It makes a lot of sense, especially with what Bek had said about him either being dead or in a homeless shelter. God… Scott’s never even considered running away from home. Would that be a good option?

“I’ve been in similar situations,” Scott whispers, biting his lip. Jim’s eyes widen, he’s surprised that Scott’s figured something out.

“W-whatever could you mean?” He’s really, really bad at playing dumb, and Scott doesn’t want to say it’s cute, but it is. Jimmy tucks his hair behind his ear nervously, picking at his wing feathers even more.

“Come on, I’m not stupid, I can figure out a bit of what’s going on,” Scott says, “And do you remember the first day we met, how you said that if I ever needed to talk, I could talk to you? Well, it goes both ways. I care about you and I want you to be safe, so if anything ever happens, or Patty (I don’t know who she is but she sounds like she hurt you) tries to contact you, please, please let me know.”

Jimmy stares at the floor, not moving. “Yeah, okay. And for the record, she didn’t hurt me. Not really.” Shit, has he done something wrong? He’s definitely done something wrong; he’s made a mistake, committed a critical error- though he’s not quite sure what.

“Sorry,” he mutters, looking the other direction. Well, that’s it, he’s officially ruined everything, and he doesn’t even know how but between the staring and the way his stomach has been flipping around the avian and prying into his personal business, Scott feels like he can be pretty certain that this friendship is over.

“No, wait, don’t be sorry!” Jimmy takes hold of his shoulder, spinning Scott around to face him, brown and cyan eyes staring into each other. “It’s fine. Thank you for offering that, I’m just not used to people… being kind to me, I guess. But you’re fine, I’m fine, we’re fine. In fact, I’m only slightly disappointed that you haven’t said this earlier on.” He lets out a little awkward laugh, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand.

“Genuinely?” Scott wants to be certain that he’s not intruding, certain that he’s not messing something up like he always does, whether he realizes it or not.

“Yes, Scott, my god!” Jimmy laughs, before his voice takes a more serious turn. “Seriously, you’re one of my favorite people. I probably would’ve had a much worse time at school so far if not for you, especially with what’s been going on with Xornoth.”

“Thanks.” Scott smiles, but it’s not real because something’s still wrong between them, something’s broken and he’s still not sure how to fix it.

“Are you all done with your sappy conversations?” Joel calls from the front seat, “Because we’re here! You ready to go watch a movie, you smelly boys?” Jimmy and Scott laugh in unison, Scott’s quiet cackle a direct contrast to Jim’s melodious chirping.

They all pile out of the car, waiting a moment so Jimmy can straighten his dress, and head into the movie theater, the avian running ahead and chattering eagerly with wide eyes. Scott looks around, realizing how much this theater looks like the one he used to visit with his father- it has the same arches above the entrance, the same carpet, the same cheesy old movie posters ring the walls.

In fact, if Scott isn’t certain that the one he used to go to is halfway across town, he would’ve sworn they were one and the same. But there’s no way, it’s just deja vu, dumb and fake and he needs to stop this, because he’s here to have a good time with two of his best friends and he’s already ruining everything-

“Scott, you coming?” Joel and Jimmy are standing in the doorway, the height difference mammoth in appearance. Their silhouettes intertwine on the floor, and Scott wants nothing more than to join them.

“Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, I’m here.” He takes a deep breath and steps forward, his feet landing in divits in the pavement, staring straight ahead. He is here, now, and he’s not going to let old ghosts ruin one of the only times he can be truly happy anymore.

“I can’t tell you how excited I am to finally see this movie.” Jimmy keeps chattering on and on about Spirited Away, this and that about how it’s the greatest movie of all time, blah blah blah. It’s quite endearing, actually- Scott can’t help but grin a little, seeing how happy the avian is.

“Jimmy-you’re-spoiling-everything!” Joel shrieks after Jimmy goes on an especially long tangent about parents turning into pigs or something of the sort, hands clasped over his ears. “La la lalallala, I can’t hear you, I can’t heaaar youuuu…” Scott shakes his head affectionately, putting a hand on Joel’s elbow because he can’t reach his shoulder.

“Calm down, bestie,” he says, slapping Joel lightly in the arm. “We gotta go get popcorn like, now. Otherwise we’re going to miss the beginning and Jim’ll freak.”

“NO WE’RE NOT,” Jimmy calls from where he’s standing in line twenty feet in front of them. “NO WE’RE NOTTTT! We aren’t going to miss a single bit, and if we do, it’s your fault, Scott Smajor.”

“How would it be my fault?” Scott smirks. “If anyone, it would be Joel’s fault.” He pulls Joel, protesting incoherently, forward by the arm, almost bowling down a family of movie-goers, and they join Jimmy in line.

Joel pays for the popcorn and sodas, Jimmy practically vibrating with impatience. “You ready to go?” Scott asks the avian, laughing slightly at his outraged expression.

“I’ve been ready for years,” Jimmy says haughtily, puffing ahead of them, his dress flying behind him like a following of clouds. Scott and Joel make their way forward at a leisurely pace, exchanging grins every couple feet when Jimmy, twenty feet in front of them, looks back and spreads his arms wildly, gesturing for them to hurry up.

They finally make their way into the theater and find their seats, cushy red recliners made for different species. Joel heads way back to the section for larger people, saluting the two of them with the arm that isn’t holding his five giant bowls of popcorn.

Scott and Jimmy make their ways nearer to the front, but still slightly in the middle; the section for medium-heighted people. They’ve gotten seats in the very center of the row, right next to each other, and Scott slips in quietly, so as to not disturb the families seated on either side.

Jimmy has a bit of a hassle getting into his seat, however, as his wings are simply not cooperating, the excitement causing them to fluff up when what he really needs is for them to tuck them into his back.

“...Do you need help?” Scott asks after being forced to watch this torture for a couple minutes.

Jimmy lets out a disappointed sound somewhere between a groan and a sigh. “Yes, please.” Scott lifts himself up out of his recliner, making sure his shades are still pulled securely over his eyes.

“What… should I do?” Scott asks, his hands hovering awkwardly in the air, not sure where to start.

“Best way to calm me down is- wait, remember the very first day we met, when I was dissociating?” Scott nods, waiting for the canary to continue, “And Mx Leiverman kind of rubbed the spot between my wings? Do you remember where that is?”

“Yeah…”

“Kind of massage me there. It’ll get me calmed down and then we can watch the movie.” At the last few words, Jimmy’s wings floof up even further.

Scott’s hands are shaking slightly now, the gravity of what he’s about to do beginning to weigh down on him. “You want me to… rub your back?” he asks, just to clarify, just to make sure he hasn’t heard Jimmy wrong.

The avian’s cheeks go red. “It- it calms me down, okay? And yeah, because otherwise I won’t be able to see this and that would be horrific, just the worst of the worst. Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for this?”

Actually, no, Scott doesn’t, but he nods anyway. “Y-yeah, okay,” he mutters, still not quite sure where to start. “Um, should I just… go for it, then?” Jimmy nods impatiently, wings poofier than ever. Scott tries to relax; this is fine, he’s just helping out his friend, this is a completely normal thing to happen and he’s not flustered at all.

He absolutely cannot feel his heart thumping out of his chest, and by no means is his stomach fluttering so wildly he can barely stand. Oh, and he’s especially not wondering how Jimmy’s feathers might feel under his fingers, soft and bright and-

Okay. Deep breath in, Scott, deep breath out. He needs to calm down and get the job done because otherwise his friend might not be able to fulfill this hope he’s been wishing for, and that would be a literal catastrophe, that would be horrific. And so he steels himself and moves his hands forwards until they’re touching the soft light green fabric of Jimmy’s dress, right between where his wings poke out.

As soon as Scott’s fingers connect, he can hear Jimmy gasp, just a tiny quiet breath of air that escapes from his lips- and just for a second, Scott’s inside Jimmy’s mind, twisting and turning, only glimpsing one tiny glimmer of a memory- a boy’s bright bluish eyes staring at him. And then it’s gone,

What. The hell. Was that.

He assumes it must be something from his siren heritage, and he brushes it off, just another thing that’s wrong with him. He runs a hand through his snakes and returns to the task at hand.

Scott’s never done this before, he’s not completely sure how, so he just goes with his instincts, working his fingers along Jimmy’s back, undoing the anxious knots of muscle, going from the middle to the seam where the avian’s wings connect with his body, hands brushing smooth, tiny feathers. And it seems to work, Jimmy’s wings relaxing bit by bit, until the avian lets out a sigh, stretching, and returns to his seat, seemingly contented.

Scott keeps standing, like an idiot, for a couple seconds before taking his seat as well, his whole body buzzing. God. What in the world was that? Why is he smiling as he pushes the familiar button, his chair reclining, the opening scene beginning to flicker across the screen? Why is he smiling when he knows he’s just done something his father would never approve of? Why is he smiling when he’s so disgusting he can’t even bear to look in a mirror, his colors and the people he loves and just… himself… so repulsive and defective that he’s nothing more than a disappointment to everyone he knows?

He wishes these were genuine questions. He truly wishes he didn’t have an answer to why his lips turn up. But he does know, deep down somewhere in his chest the truth resonates and he will ignore it for as long as he can because he can’t take it, he just can’t let himself-

But he wants to. He wants to scream to the whole world that he is who he is and he’s sick of people telling him he has to change (not that they’re wrong). But he knows, he already knows that he’s beyond saving, too broken to do anything more but scatter his pieces in the wind, and there’s not really any changing that because believe him, please believe him when he says he’s tried. And he really has, but he can’t get rid of the fact that he’s a hybrid or the ice that comes from his eyes.

And no matter how much he’s wished, how hard he’s tried to beat it out of himself, Scott can’t get rid of the feeling, the knowledge, that the only people he’s ever wanted to kiss have been boys. Owen is right. He’s always been right and always will be right but Scott can only let himself know that for a few seconds because otherwise he’ll fall, and once he starts falling, he can’t come out.

So he lets himself have the knowledge for a couple of seconds and then boxes it away again, shaking his head slightly in the darkness, glancing cautiously over at Jimmy, his face awash in the light from the big screen, transfixed by the movie. He catches Scott looking, and smiles brightly in his direction, gorgeous and happy and everything Scott isn’t.

God.

It’s going to be a long couple of months, a long couple of years until he can leave, he knows it will be. And the movie passes quickly; Scott sometimes tuning in, though it’s hard with his mind wandering this way and that, looping and twisting and going in twenty different directions at once, but never back to whatever he had seen in Jimmy’s mind. And then it’s over and Jimmy’s pulling at his arm, telling him they’re leaving.

They file out of the theater, Joel loping forwards behind them, Jimmy absolutely buzzing, starstruck. “So, did you enjoy the movie?” Scott asks, pretty certain he knows the answer.

“Yeah.” Jimmy really does have the most beautiful smile, perfect rows of shining white teeth, rounded and normal, nothing like the sharper siren teeth that line Scott’s mouth, one of his only fully siren features. “I really, really did, thank you guys so much for agreeing to come with me.”

“Anytime,” Joel grins, rubbing the avian’s head, causing his hair to stand up on end and his hairclip to fall out. “Oh, sorry!”

“It’s fine.” Jimmy leans down to pick up his barrette, folding his wings in close (probably so they don’t smash into the other moviegoers). “Joel-” he starts, before the pin is snatched from the floor by a pair of dark purple hands- hands that aren’t Jimmy’s.

“Well, if it isn’t the boys!” Xornoth smirks, spinning the hair clip between zir fingers. Joey’s practically dripping off of zir other arm, grinning while sucking on a bright red lollipop; Sausage peering out from behind the tiefling, eyeing the three party boys curiously.

Scott freezes. Oh, hell no. Not this again. For the past month, ever since Jimmy first came to school, Xornoth’s been non stop tormenting the avian, turning zir focus away from Scott and hounding in on Jimmy. There have been countless incidents where Scott or Joel or Shelby, or even Owen, have found Jim sitting at the end of the hallway, visibly trying very hard not to cry.

Jimmy looks up slowly, almost as if he’s hoping that somehow, his blissful moment won’t be ruined by the appearance of his biggest problem. But there’s not really a chance for that, is there, and Scott can’t help but wince at his expression, fallen about twenty places from just a few moments before. “What are you doing here,” the avian whispers- and it’s not a question, it comes across as more of a curse, an quiet anger personified into words.

“Just watching a movie, same as you, right? Hope there isn’t a problem with that, Little Bird.” Ze smiles down at Jimmy, still knelt on the floor, too shocked by this sudden and unfortunate turn of events to get up.

“Don’t call me that. I don’t like it.” The intonation on every syllable makes it extraordinarily clear what Jimmy’s trying to communicate here, and yet Xornoth cocks zir head to the side in mock confusion, an overdone exaggeration of Jimmy’s bird-like mannerisms.

“Who knew I’d be seeing you all here,” Xornoth purrs, walking in a wide circle around Jimmy, Scott, and Joel. “And what a surprise your little gnome isn’t here! I can see why the tiefling might decide to not take part in this little outing, though.”

“What do you mean?” Jimmy asks, finally getting up off the floor, standing straight in his full height, but he’s still dwarfed by Xornoth- so is everyone else here, except for Joel.

“I mean,” Xornoth continues, absentmindedly checking over zir nails while glancing out of the corner of zir eye to gauge the reaction of the others, “that Owen hasn’t really been hanging around you all a lot lately, has he now? Wherever has he been? Or maybe more importantly: where do you think he’s been?”

“Well, he’s with Lilith,” Scott inserts himself into the conversation, making sure Jimmy doesn’t get too overwhelmed. “You know, his enbyfriend.”

Xornoth’s eyes widen and zir grin grows, bright fangs contrasting incredibly against zir dark purple skin. “So you really don’t know. That’s very interesting, isn't it? That he wouldn’t have told you. Maybe you aren’t as good friends as you think.” At the last word, Xornoth pokes a sharp nail into Scott’s chest, emphasizing every word ze’s just said tenfold in Scott’s mind.

He looks up to speak again, tell Xornoth that ze’re wrong, there’s no other words for it, Owen’s just having a rough time is all, what with Jimmy arriving and all his sisters and just everything. But as he opens his mouth, Joel pushes him back and steps forwards, crossing his arms as he towers over Xornoth, Joey, and Sausage, his tail swinging menacingly behind him.

“Get out of here.” Joel’s tone is flat and final, leaving no room for speculation. “We don’t want you ruining our time, and you don’t know shit about Owen or any of us. Leave.”

Xornoth glances to the side, and Scott can tell that ze knows ze isn’t getting out of this one if ze continues. “We have places to be anyway,” ze smirks, snaking an arm around Joey’s shoulder, the siren moving closer and resting a hand on Xornoth’s chest. “C’mon, Sausage, or we’ll be late.” Sausage grins and mock salutes Scott, before following after the other two as they saunter down the hall.

The three of them just stand there for a minute, unsure of how to continue. There are a couple beats of silence before Jimmy says, “I didn’t get my hairclip back.” His voice is low and cautious and Scott can tell that he might start crying. Oh, god, he doesn’t want Jimmy’s perfect time to be ruined, he’s been waiting to see this movie since forever and now Xornoth’s popped up out of nowhere and almost ruined everything.

And so that’s why Scott steps forwards and wraps his arms around Jimmy’s shoulders, hugging him tightly. “I’ll get you a new one,” he whispers in the avian’s ear, ruffling his hand in Jimmy’s hair.

“Thanks,” he mutters, clutching tightly around Scott’s midriff, which flutters at the contact. Then Jim lets go, rubbing his eyes. Scott hangs on for just a millisecond too long- he’s not the best at reading queues, and if he’s honest, it was just a really nice hug, nothing like the stiff ones he receives from Owen.

Jimmy coughs, Scott clearing his throat and looking at Joel. “So… what should we do from here?”

“I mean, it’s lunchtime, do you all want to go grab some shitty fried food?”

“That sounds really good right about now,” Scott says. He stretches, cracking his neck a few times to work out a little pain that’s been growing there throughout the movie.

“Yeah,” Jimmy agrees, quietly looking off into nothing.

“Alright, come on, let’s go then!” Joel begins to walk confidently forwards, Jimmy not quite following. Scott turns back, grabbing his wrist and dragging him along. The avian doesn’t resist, even smiling a little.

The rest of the day is much better, Jimmy’s salad seeming to cheer him up immensely, Scott quite enjoying his own chicken sandwich. After lunch, they leave the restaurant and head off to a state park for a hike or two (or seven, as it turns out), where Jimmy gets to practice his flying; something he’s quite new at. Though he’s not as grateful as other avians Scott’s seen, he can’t deny that there’s some sort of clumsy charm about the way Jimmy flops through the air, so proud whenever he manages to stay aloft for a couple minutes time.

And then they’re heading home, and Scott’s house is the first along the way. He’s dropped off in front of the mansion, Joel going off on his usual tangent about how no one, “not even a celestial as tall and handsome as me,” needs to live in a home this oversized. And Scott has to admit, as he grabs his bag from the car and thanks Joel and Jimmy for the day out, that his house is ridiculously ginormous.

He reaches into his pocket to pull out his phone (he wants to check on Owen and Shelby) but it’s not there. Huh. Scott realizes he hasn’t seen it this whole time, he’s been too preoccupied to even think of checking his texts- he must have left it at home in the first place. Well, at least that’s where he is now.

Scott sighs and begins to make his way through the immaculate front garden, even the walkway stones clean and polished, not a single piece of gravel out of place. It’s dark now, and the lights have turned on, old-fashioned Victorian oil lamps that line the edges of the garden, giving Scott just barely enough light to see by. It feels weirdly foreboding tonight, the slight drizzle from the morning having turned to a thunderstorm.

He stretches quickly before reaching the front door, grabbing the key from his pocket and turning it in the lock. The huge double-M door creaks open, and Scott makes for the staircase, planning to just go straight upstairs so he doesn’t have to face his father.

But there’s already someone walking down the steps, glaring down at him, angrier than Scott’s ever seen him, a phone clutched in the man’s right hand, his snakes hissing aggressively, his shades removed.

It’s Father.

“Scott. You need to explain yourself. Now.”

Oh, shit.

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townsenddecades · 6 months ago

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1301 - Day 3

(TW: descriptions of a past event of sexual coercion)

Once the harvest is over, it gets harder and harder for Anne to find excuses not to confess her adultery to her husband. She finally gathers her courage while he is out near the beehives, while the girls are gone into the village.

“So, I’m happy that the harvest went well.”

“So am I”, he agrees. Their dealings with each other have been a bit stiff lately, but he seems genuine enough. “And I’m even happier to finally get a moment alone with you. There has been so much going on, Mrs. Townsend.”

He pulls her into a kiss, and she enjoys it for a moment, before she remembers her promise to herself and pulls back. He looks at her with concern. “Is something the matter?”

“There is, actually. And I think you already know what it is.”

He goes still at that. Her heart is pounding, and her mind is screaming at her that this is the last chance to take it back and run. She has been keeping silent about it for a year, hasn't she? Why can’t things just stay that way? But it wouldn’t be right. She knows it wouldn’t. Still, her breath shudders and her eyes sting as she speaks. “And I’m so, so sorry.”

“Anne?”

“Do you remember Marjorie Watmore’s birthday celebration? The one you went to with the girls?”

“I do. Benji had been sick, and you said you’d stay behind to care for him.”

“That evening, I…I received a visitor. The Earl showed up unexpectedly.”

“Unexpectedly”, he repeats, derisively.

He knows.

“It was unexpected! I invited him in, because I didn’t know what else to do, and he talked some about his own children and that he remembered how worried he’d gotten whenever they got sick. And then…” She swallows, looking away. “And then he kissed me.”

Benjamin is silent, but he has gone unnaturally still. Anne presses on.

“I had noticed him paying me attention and complimenting me when he came by before, and I tried to discourage him, I swear I did. And I told him that what he was doing was a bad idea, but he…he…”

“He didn’t stop, and you shared your bed with him?”

Her cheeks are burning. She can do nothing but nod.

“Did he force himself on you?”

“Not…not as such. I just didn’t know how to tell him no. He is the Earl, after all.”

“Yes, and I’m sure that he is handsome and charming and powerful has nothing to do with it”, he spits out. He had known, of course, what must have happened, even if he hadn’t known that his wife had slept with the Earl of all people. “It’s obvious, when you think of it. Robert is the spitting image of him. I must have been blind not to put two and two together.”

“I didn’t want this, Benedict!”, she shouts back. “Any of it. But I didn’t know what to do! He has the power to ruin our lives if I anger him. You know that as well as I do. I just didn’t want to risk it.”

“And not telling me about any of this for almost two years? Was that also necessary?”

“You’ve known”, she says hollowly.

“Not from you. Not from my own damned wife! I’m disappointed, Anne. Both that you’d do this in the first place and that you’d have me raise the Earl’s bastard and not even trust me with the truth!”

Her eyes fill with tears. “I was afraid of what you’d do. I didn’t want you to storm the castle and confront the Earl, and I didn’t want Robbie to be caught in the crossfire.”

“And now I’ll just have to live with the neighbours knowing that we are raising a bastard. I should have just given him to the abbey in the first place.”

She reels back in shock. “You wouldn’t.”

“He is a bastard.”

“He is my son!” She stares at his face, and suddenly turns around, eyes filled to the brim with tears. “I’m going to the market. It may be better to get some distance from each other.”

And with that, she runs off. Benedict can only stay back, heartbroken and angry and confused. He has known for months, and still, hearing her acknowledge it cuts deeper than anything else. A part of him had wanted to believe even now that he was imagining things, that Robert is his son, but of course, he had been right.

But he isn’t just angry at Anne. He is angry at the Earl as well. Because, much as he doesn’t want to acknowledge it right now, that man is the one that has put them into this situation. He still wishes and believes that Anne could have found a way to put him off, but he is equally angry at nobles just taking what they want, and drat the consequences for anyone else.

And most of all, he doesn’t know what to do.

Loud crying snaps him out of his stewing. For a moment, he can’t quite believe his ears, but then he is certain: Robert is crying inside the house. He can’t believe Anne would have left him behind, after the cruel, angry words he had said to her. Nothing could have done more to convince him of her distress. He stares at crying baby for a long beat, then he walks over and picks him up out of his cradle to calm him.

“Oh, little one, what are we to do?” He looks at the infant, so small in his arms, and his heart softens a bit. Despite what he said, he can’t hate the baby, even if it is the Earl’s son. Not only is the boy innocent, but he is the child of the woman he still loves.

When have things gotten so dreadfully complicated?

Anne returns eventually, but over the next few days, they hardly speak to each other. The girls ask a few timid questions, but only get the answer that mama and papa have had a disagreement. They absent themselves as much as they can. Now, between the summer harvest and sowing the autumn crop, there is little to do on the farm, so they enjoy those last summer months by playing in the village. They even meet a boy from Mahlsberg, a village closer to the Abbey of St. Wright.

As if to make up for the distance with his wife, Benedict is extra affectionate to all of his children.

And even his wife, he does eventually talk to.

“Are you still planning to take my son away from me?”, she asks one evening, quite bitterly. He had noticed that she had clung more closely to Robert since their argument, as if truly afraid be might snatch him away.

He feels guilty, but also angered that she’d play the offended party. “Do you truly think I’d do something so vile?”

“I don’t know. You’d say something so vile, at least.”

“I was angry, Anne! Can you blame me?”

“No”, she says, after a moment. “And I am sorry. Truly. If there was any way to make it up, I would, but…”

“But there isn’t much to do, now, is there?”

There is silence between them, but eventually, he sighs. “I honestly don’t know if I can forgive you. Not just for sharing your bed with the Earl, although I’m not happy about that. But for not trusting me. I’ve spent a year wondering if you’d ever tell me the truth, Anne.”

“I’m sorry”, she repeats. “I just didn’t know how to tell you.”

“And it still doesn’t change the fact that we are raising the Earl’s bastard. Judging by the fact that he hasn’t shown up here in the past year, it doesn’t seem he has much interest in finding out if something resulted from your…liaison.”

She looks away, biting her lip. “He did come by once while I was pregnant and said that if the child is his and I was ever in need of anything, I could send word to him. It made me hope that maybe, he’d take an interest and provide opportunities for Robbie’s future…but you’re right. It doesn’t seem like he’s still interested.”

Prev: 1301, Day 2 <---> Next: 1301, Day 4

#ultimate decades challenge #the sims 3 #ts3 #townsend legacy #udc: townsend family #udc: gen 0 #1300s

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scotianostra · 24 days ago

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On November 29th 1813 a campaign was launched in Dumfries to raise public subscriptions to fund a mausoleum for the poet Robert Burns.

The first attempt to have a memorial erected to Burns was made as far back as 1812, by John Forbes Mitchell of Bombay, and it is ironic that the first expression of a national, as opposed to a local, nature, should have come from overseas. Although Mitchell eventually collected a large sum of money for this purpose, it was not until he returned to Britain in 1819 that he could take practical steps to implement his proposals. In the meantime, plans for monuments to Burns had been maturing elsewhere.

In 1813, John Syme, who had been a close friend of Burns, campaigned to raise funds for the Mausoleum. The structure was designed by Thomas Frederick Hunt while sculptor Peter Turnerelli created the scene in marble of Burns at the plough contained inside.

On 19th September 1815 the poet`s remains were exhumed and re interred in the mausoleum. The service was attended by his wife Jean Armour, who had been unable to attend the original service as she was giving birth to Burns` son.

It was actually built by a local stonemason named John Milligan at a cost of just over £300. Though the structure was completed in 1817 Burns' body was moved to its new home in 1815 while the mausoleum was being built.Burns' wife Jean Armour was interred beside her husband in 1834. At this time a plaster cast was made of Burns' skull. Also buried in the mausoleum is the couple's son Maxwell Burns, who died in 1799 at just 2 years and 9 months old, and Francis Burns, another son who died in 1803 at 14 years old.

The mausoleum takes the form of a neoclassical rotunda with pairs of Ionic columns supporting an octagonal drum with a dome at the top. Within the mausoleum is a group of sculptures by Peter Turnerelli.

The sculptures show the ancient Muse 'Colla', a representation of the Ayrshire region of Kyle where Burns was born, throwing her mantle over Burns while he ploughs a farm field. The cloak is a mantle of inspiration, a reflection of how Burns' life early life in Ayrshire inspired his poetry. Colla's mantle of inspiration summons Burns the ploughman to become Burns the poet.

The original sculptures were replaced by copies sculpted by Hermon Cawthra in 1936. They were installed as part of an effort to restore the mausoleum and were unveiled by Prime Minister Ramsay MacDonald.

The mausoleum is made of local red sandstone. Around 1880 the structure was painted bright white, with the dome a pale green. The base of the mausoleum is open on three sides, but each of these sides is now protected by an iron gate so that you can see within but cannot actually enter the building.During the 19th century the Dumfries Burns Club began a custom of laying a wreath at the mausoleum on Burns' birthday (25th January) and the custom continues to this day.

The Burns Mausoleum is listed Grade A for its heritage value.

#scotland #scottish #history #Dumfries #Nithdale #makar #National poet #Rabbie Burns

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thunderheadfred · 1 year ago

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It’s my birthday so as a gift to myself I’m listing all my personal growth from the last few months

Lost 50+ pounds, well on my way to shedding 100+. Did this very simply with zero self-hatred or shame. Intermittent fasting and sugar elimination were pretty much the only requirements. Took time to adjust and a willingness to cook more, but that was the only struggle. In addition to the weight loss, my inflammatory and immune problems have been greatly improved. Chronic fatigue is still with me, but isn’t dictating every second of my day, and I hope CFS continues to diminish as I get healthier. Resources I used are now helping my dad reverse pre-diabetes, which is the cherry on top.

Went through perhaps the worst existential crisis of my entire life (and boy howdy, I’m well-rehearsed) and didn’t die. Didn’t die so hard I actually woke up from decades of numbness and changed my entire life almost overnight. This “instant” change was enabled by several years of work via intensive outpatient, group therapy, 1-on-1 therapy, medication, and deep interior work I’ve done on my neurochemistry and mental health. It feels like foundations were laid for me to finally take a huge forward step into hope and change. I finally let God back in, and have felt vulnerable, humbled, and vibrantly alive in a way I haven’t experienced since childhood.

Started re-exploring my own spiritual health, perhaps the most difficult and intense part of this transformation. Deeply personal, difficult to find words. No labels for it. See re-enrolling in college, below. Much to learn. Adjacent to this, have encouraged Catholic husband to join an inter-faith climate group, which he did. His parish church now looks likely to form their own climate support group in addition.

Re-enrolled in college for fall 2023. Built a 3-year interdisciplinary plan to graduate with a major in Dakota Language and American Indian studies, with minors in sustainable agriculture, art history, and art.

Became involved in local politics; I’ve personally met my senator and congressperson and thanked them for their work. They know me by name and I will continue to keep up with legislation on local and federal levels, vote in every election, and advocate for policies I believe in.

Started educating myself on the policies that have shaped our current situation. This is often overwhelming, and I remind myself constantly to do it in stages, to not burn myself out or get lost in anger and hopelessness. Nevertheless, it must be done. In particular, I’m finding Robert Reich’s free YouTube course invaluable for this, though it has made me cry several times. Labor movements are taking off across the country and this gives me immense hope that I’m far from the only one sharing in this experience. Millions of us are waking up to our own democratic power, and we can change things together, one step at a time.

Also started researching absolutely everything about reducing my personal carbon footprint, increasing self-sufficiency, and having at least some baseline readiness for disaster scenarios, a process that continues. Immediately stopped eating beef and pork (and most meat, actually), stopped purchasing things online and from big box stores (whenever feasible) and started walking to our local grocery co-op several times a week.

Encouraged husband to get involved in our HOA, a goal he’s had since we moved but was unable to make good on because of his work schedule (now blessedly changed) - we will soon be making a concentrated effort to meet all of our neighbors, initiate neighborhood gatherings, and encourage green initiatives in our immediate community.

Joined the local arm of 350.org. Have already done tabling and multiple advocacy campaigns. Husband is on the clean transportation team, focused on bringing electric school buses to schools. I’m on the food systems team, currently working on expanding our state’s farmer’s market SNAP program so more people have access to affordable local produce.

Expanded my patio garden to several raised planters full of herbs that I’ve been regularly using. A few things didn’t work out, but I’m learning what thrives in that location and have grown the most delicious tomatoes I’ve ever eaten, with basically zero effort. Working on a plan to build a small deer-proof Three Sisters food garden in our limited backyard space.

Started my basement cannabis grow tent, have two plants thriving and bringing me joy when I talk to them every day and tell them what lovely ladies they are.

Converted all our household power draw to sustainable wind (this took all of one phone call to our utility provider) and in a few days we will have meters installed on both our hot water tank and our air conditioner, so those are cycled during peak hours for even less energy consumption.

Started fishing together with one of my oldest childhood friends and my dad. Went from zero outdoors experience to learning how to hook minnows without flinching and hold a beautiful emerald-green bass in my hands. An amazing experience that will continue through the season.

#good job me #keep it up you sexy beast

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itrin · 2 years ago

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many worlds like this one

(concept taken from splitting-infinities's post)

There are many worlds like this one.

Robert is small enough that he has to shift onto his knees on his chair to lean over the dining table. There's a cake in front of him, big and round with white icing he helped slather on. There's rainbow sprinkles and Skittles and M&Ms he'd slapped to the side, and it took the better half of the evening to make, mostly because he wouldn't stop getting in the way, so impatient he was.

There are seven candles on top, burning. His parents were singing Happy Birthday, and he was just old enough now to feel embarrassed at the attention. He sat through it though, and then finally Robert leaned forward until his face hovered over the burning candles, birthday hat sitting askew on top of his head, and closed his eyes to make a wish. And then he took a long, deep breath and blew his candles out.

Robert was old enough to hate being sung Happy Birthday to -- it was awkward and he never knows where to look. Robert was still young enough to want it anyways. His parents started singing, and stopped when Robert cringed, then started again, then stopped again until the conflict made them start coughing. Then they stopped coughing because Robert didn't want them to.

Robert, sat in his chair, and leaned over the dining table to see his cake with thirteen burning candles on top. It looked just like any other cake he wanted. Robert glanced up at his parents, and they stared back blank-faced. Robert brought his face close to the flames, closed his eyes, inhaled and blew.

There are many worlds like this one.

Robert is in a lavish penthouse suite, all greys and neutrals and off-whites and egg-whites with floor-to-ceiling windows. Someone, probably the owner, was throwing a birthday party and so was Robert, in a way. He had a slice of cake and couldn't find a candle, but there's a group of people that managed to surround him, and they wished him a "happy birthday!" And they started singing Happy Birthday just for him but it was discordant and they quickly grew confused as to who he was, why he was there, why they were.

Robert made a hasty exit and realized that drunk people were...messy. He stepped outside onto the street, and it wasn't busy, no crowds. He started making his way back to his equally lavish, upscale apartment, closing his eyes for a moment before taking a deep breath and blowing it out.

Damien sat on a sandy L.A. shore looking out over gentles waves. He had his knees drawn up to his chin. He thought--

Damien was in a car, tearing down the road with L.A. at his back. He thought he could actually spend this day with them, but he couldn't. Turns out he can't. He squeezes his eyes shut against it, briefly because he's going 100 miles per hour. He inhales, he exhales.

There are many worlds like this one.

"Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Damien-" that's not right.

Someone is throwing a party in a bar to celebrate, and it's a big chorus of happy laughter and awkward singing and of course the guy is feeling embarrassed at the attention, he doesn't know where to look. It's so easy to pretend, though, just for today, for right now. Damien sits at the edge of group. He doesn't drink but he has a glass in hand that he clutches for dear life, and his friends -- this guy's friends -- are singing to him.

Then one of the girls, also at the edges, turns to him, face beaming and sings Happy Birthday to him, and it's nice until she trails off like she doesn't know why she started singing to a stranger. Damien knows his cue to leave, and he wants the bartender and the girl to not remember him. He steps outside, the streetlight blinding compared to the dimness of the pub; the flinches his eyes closed against it, and lets out a shaky breath around his constricting chest.

Damien is on the open road at three in the morning, and the ground is nothing but fluid blackness under his tires. There's peace here, a peculiar feeling of timelessness, like he's detached from reality and floating away into the vacuum of space. Nothing matters, nothing exists, except his foot on the accelerator and the horizon in front of him.

Damien is drunk on a kitchen floor, calling a number on his phone.

There are many worlds like this one.

Damien is sitting at the kitchen table in Somewhere, USA in the good ol' state of Fuck All. The days have been slipping by and he feels timeless in the what's-even-the-fucking-point way. Damien, nevertheless, still knows what day it is, and he wasn't going to do this, he wasn't -- but he passed by a small, round, stupid vanilla cake.

Damien leans over the table until his face hovered above the flame of the single candle burning on top of the cake. Damien can't help but think it's missing essential candy pieces slapped onto it, and it was so ridiculously expensive that he may as well just make one himself next year. Boxed cake mix and sprinkles, it's not hard -- he did it on his own for his fourteenth. It's not hard.

Damien is too old and not nearly pathetic enough to sing Happy Birthday to himself, so he doesn't. He does, though, close his eyes, takes a deep breath, and blows out his candle.

[end]

#happy birthday damien #its not even his birthday why am i like this #happy late birthday bc I got inspired tonight #damien gorham #the bright sessions damien #the bright sessions #tbs damien #long post

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weshallc · 11 months ago

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Bern's Night

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, 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.”

“Burns 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 birthday girl Lorraine Kelly Mannion 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 and 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 five. Everyone back to work.”

#call the midwife #bern's night chapter two #thank you for reading #Tim what have you done

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