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the-hilda-librarians-wife · 4 years ago

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Halloween Coutdown - Burn

Summary: Hilda’s classmates are beginning to pick up on her witchcraft. She doesn’t care, but the librarian doesn’t like people talking about her apprentice behind her back. Family Fights Halloween themed ficlet

Notes: 4 days until Halloween!! This chapter takes place in the 5 month skip in Family Fights. If you haven’t read the fic and want to, the link is here. If you don’t feel like it, you just need to know that the librarian is training Hilda to be a witch.

(I dedicate this chapter to the awesome @mr-hyde-and-mr-seek, who unknowingly helped me pick the theme for ths fic and who just gives my writing and me more support than I could possibly hope for. Everyday is halloween when I’m with you, fren <3)

Read it on ao3

Spooky song rec: Burn The Witch by Queens of the Stone Age

It had been years since Maven had set foot on Trolberg’s Elementary School. Before her sister had complained about it and asked her to stop doing it, she’d often pick Myra up when her classes were over. The last time she’d been there, it had probably been to walk her home.

Her own memories of the place felt more like a haze. She did remember that she’d attended that school, and that she’d had few friends and so spent her recesses in the library, and she even had some weirdly specific recollections of sneaking out of physical education to write stories in a secluded corner of the dressing room. She wasn’t there for her sister, though, much less for the pleasure of remembering her childhood years. That day, she was there to pick her apprentice up.

Leaning against the grids that surrounded the school, the librarian watched a group of children walk by her, complaining about how unfair it was that they would have classes on Halloween, and she thought about how much easier this was for people for whom All Souls Night was just another holiday. Being a witch, she had much more ease sensing the things that lurked in the shadows at that time of the year, and they were more likely to target her as well. That was exactly the reason why she’d asked Hilda to allow her to accompany her home that day, even though it wouldn’t really be Halloween until midnight.

She was probably exaggerating on her worry, but a young witch with too much power and not enough control over it was the perfect target for all the dark creatures that arose when the veil got thinner. When she’d talked about this to her, Hilda had promised not to leave her house alone on Halloween, especially since there would be no fun in trick or treating alone, anyway. She did, however, reveal that she walked to her house alone after school, and Maven was not completely at ease with that.

When she asked Hilda if she’d allow her to pick her up at school, the girl hadn’t looked like she’d wanted to comply, though she tried to hide it. Even when she accepted, she didn’t act very happy about the prospect. Maven didn’t think it was anything she’d done that had upset Hilda, since they had been talking normally just seconds before, which left her to wonder about Hilda’s behaviour.

Walking side by side with her two closest friends, Maven noticed Hilda leaving her school’s main building when she waved enthusiastically at her, now acting as happy as ever, if a little nervous. After they said their goodbyes, the trio parted ways. The girl returned inside the school, the boy left for the school’s auditorium, and Hilda ran her way.

“Hey, Mave!” She greeted joyfully. “Good afternoon.”

“Good afternoon. How are you?”

“I’m fine.” Hilda began walking, taking the lead since she knew the way to her house way better than Maven did. “What about you? Have you done anything interesting today?”

“If by interesting you mean magical, then no, That will only begin tomorrow.”

At the mention of magic, Hilda glanced around, which made Maven lift her eyebrows. She’d never seen Hilda being skittish before, and she didn’t even think the girl had it in her to be.

“Are you sure everything is fine, Hildie? You seem a little bit… off.”

“Me? Oh no, I’m fine!” She assured, clearly lying. Knowing she’d been caught, Hilda was about to come up with an excuse when they heard a gasp. They still hadn’t left the school’s block, and on the other side of the grids there was a playground for the children. Inside it, a boy was pointing at her.

“I knew it! I knew you were a witch! You’re with the witch librarian!”

Hilda sighed wearily, and Maven crossed her arms. Her apprentice had told her about the boy, and how his misadventures with the Great Raven had led him to believe she was a witch, a belief that had only gotten stronger when he heard her chanting a small good luck charm before an exam.

“Trevor.” Hilda groaned. “Can you please just leave me-”

“Little child, you shouldn’t go around saying things like that!” Maven whispered with fake alarm in her voice. Hilda’s face was confused as her mentor kneeled down to the ground to get on the boy’s level. She looked around, as if making sure no one could hear her, and after noticing this Trevor got closer, curious at the prospect of a secret.

“It is dangerous to speak the way you do. Especially at this time of the year! Do you know which day tomorrow is? The real witches might hear you.”

Apprehensively, he took a step back. “T- the real witches?”

“Oh, yes.” Maven widened her eyes, trying to give herself the appearance of a madwoman. “Has nobody ever told you? No, I suppose they wouldn’t tell this to a child. Trolberg was built upon the grounds in which witches were burnt in ancient times. And every year in All Souls’ Night, they come out for anyone who even vaguely reminds them of their persecutors!”

It was clear that Maven had scared the boy. He was fidgeting nervously and stuttered when he spoke. Her apprentice, on the other hand, was watching her with curious eyes.

“They come… come out? To do what?”

Abruptly, Maven grasped the grids and and pulled her body forward, her face only inches from him.

“TO BURN THEM!”

Trevor began screaming and ran away with fright. Barely containing her laughter, the librarian stood up again and took Hilda’s hand.

“Let’s get out of here before he comes back with an adult and I get sued.”

They ran away to the next block playfully, Hilda’s giggles stopping Maven from regretting wasting her time on some ignorant kid. When they had left the school behind, they returned to their normal pace.

“Is that why you were worried?” The librarian asked, noticing Hilda looked much lighter now. Rubbing her neck, Hilda nodded.

“Yeah. I don’t really mind him calling me a witch. He’s a nasty person, really. I just didn’t want him to give you a hard time. I heard him calling you a witch too one day, you know, and his mother will believe anything he says. I was afraid he’d try and cause you some trouble, is all.”

Touched by Hilda’s worry for her, Maven put a hand on her shoulder affectionately.

“Don’t worry, Hildie, I don’t think there’s anything he can do against me. This sort of person already doesn’t go to the library, anyway.”

Hilda chuckled and smiled up at her.

“Yeah, they probably don’t. Was any of what you said true, by the way? About the witches?”

This time it was Maven who chuckled, thinking about the bunch of nonsense she’d come up with.

“No, I was just trying to scare the boy into being a little less unbearable. The city doesn’t really like us, but there were never witch burnings in this area. Plus, we are the real witches.”

Both relieved to know the city hadn’t, in fact, been built upon witch hunt grounds, and emboldened by Maven’s statement, the girl stood up straighter as she walked. They began trading stories about their days, the librarian listening eagerly as her apprentice told her about her classes and her friends. Eventually, though, when they were close to arriving in Hilda’s home, she restarted on their previous topic.

“I’m glad you came with me.” She said. “I’m not too worried about these creatures you mentioned, but… I did always find humans scarier.”

Looking up at her mentor, Hilda was somewhat surprised to find the utter empathy on her face.

“Can I tell you a secret?”

Hilda nodded.

“I do too. Unfortunately I came to find there are humans much scarier than any monster that I have seen. There are monsters who resent witches, of course, since technically we’re humans. But to some humans, we fall in the same category as said monsters. At least magical creatures aren’t too selfishly scared of us to try and see past their prejudices.”

“That’s exactly it!” Hilda exclaimed. When she came to think of it, that was the first time in her life someone seemed to understand that part of her. “There are great humans, obviously. It’s just kind of scary to try to find out which type of human each one is.”

“And yet we keep on trying. That’s how brave we are.”

“Yeah!” As she raised her hand to high five Maven, she noticed that she didn’t seem too used to the gesture. Hilda hadn’t been either, since she grew up in the wilderness and learned about it with David and Frida, but it struck her as odd since the librarian had grown up in the city.

Soon they arrived at the building in which Hilda lived, and she opened the door.

“Do you want to come inside? Mum is home, we could have some tea.”

“Not today, but thank you.” She nodded discreetly, a small gesture that showed that she was indeed grateful for the invitation. When Hilda was stepping into the building, she spoke again.

“If anyone else gives you a hard time… please tell me about it. I don’t want you to suffer because of who you are.” Maven didn’t know what she’d do in case Hilda did tell her in the future about another mean kid. Past experience showed that she wasn’t apt to handle bullying of any sort, heaven knew. But the thought of Hilda being picked on, especially because of something that was in a way Maven’s fault, didn’t sit well with her.

“Don’t worry, Maven.” Bringing her hand to her forehead, Hilda made a signal which Maven thought was probably the Sparrow Scouts salutation. Never having been part of the group, she didn’t know for sure. “This witch won’t burn!”

They smiled one last time at each other and said their goodbyes. The girl closed the door behind her, but Maven spent a few seconds staring at the wood. Now that she was alone, she got an uncomfortable, sick feeling on her belly. It seemed that the encounter with the boy had affected her more than she had thought, and much more than it should have.

“No.” She whispered, even though there was no one around to hear her. “I will make sure you won’t.”

#wow I really went and said: im gonna make the librarian as feral as i possibly can #and i did it #you go you chaotic mess of a witch #wife's halloween countdown #fic: family fights #my fic #hilda librarian fanfic #hilda fanfic #hilda (hilda) fanfic

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anakinsbugs · 4 years ago

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Call the Midwife Trixie (BBC)

New Post has been published on https://walrusvideo.com/call-the-midwife-trixie-bbc/

Call the Midwife Trixie (BBC)

When it comes to “Call the Midwife’s” Trixie, there’s something unique in the way the British drama does it. It can make us feel so warm and fuzzy inside with its characters’ familiar maternal presence, but at the same time leave us gutted by the harsh realities of London’s East End in the 1960s. Who wouldn’t want to have a baby delivered by the bubbly blonde nurse Trixie Franklin (Helen George)? She heralds her still-in-pin-curls arrival—to both a birth and a new season—by chirping, “magic-carpet midwifery services at your disposal!” but by the end of the episode, not even Trixie’s happy engagement news to her curate boyfriend Tom Hereward (Jack Ashton) can scrub away the agony we’ve just witnessed over the past hour.

On This Page

Trixie from Call The Midwife

Trixie Franklin – Helen George

Trixie – Helen George

More on “Call the Midwife”

“Are we going to close after all?” Nurse Trixie asked but she was assured Nonnatus house would be safe. Sister Julienne divulged: “No. We are going to expand. Early next year I will be revealing further details”.

Characters from Call the Midwife

Helen was pregnant during the filming of series 7 of call the midwife. Her character nurse Trixie Franklin made an emotional exit from the show after Helen’s baby bump began to show and couldn’t be hidden. To create a plausible exit for her, nurse Trixie was seen seeking help after spiralling back into alcoholism.

Resume

Helen George was born on June 19, 1984, in Birmingham, West Midlands, England as Helen Elizabeth George. She is an actress, known for the three musketeers (2011), call the midwife (2012) and the monster (2015). She was previously married to Oliver Boot.

Nurse Trixie has been the life and soul of Nonnatus house since the very first episode of call the midwife in 2012. Trixie loves nothing more than to gossip with her fellow nuns and nurses and enjoys poking her nose into other people’s business.

Helen George stars as nurse Trixie Franklin

Between biking around poplar, working late nights, and dealing with lots of crying babies (and mothers), the midwives of Nonnatus House don’t often get the chance to dazzle with their hair and makeup, but for the real-life actresses who play them, walking the red carpet is just another day in the life. In preparation for the show’s upcoming ninth season, here’s a look at what the characters call the midwife really look like.

The entire episode of call the midwife has me broken. Trixie deserves better honestly she’s just so selfless and it makes me so emotional.

All about Call the Midwife

Set in the 1950s and 60s in the East End of London, “Call the Midwife” is a period drama television series that centres around a group of midwives and nuns of Nonnatus house. They are trying to do the best they can for the community, given the medical issues and lack of facilities. Created by Heidi Thomas, the show first released in the UK on January 15, 2012, on BBC !.

Call the midwife sadly will not be back on TV screens in December 2020 as the filming of the new episodes was pushed back due to the pandemic. The BBC has confirmed the official date when Series 10 will return, however fans have been treated to a behind-the-scenes image of one iconic character.

Where is Trixie on “Call the Midwife” Season 7? We can understand the episode picking up tonight and there are many out there who are asking said question almost immediately. So, where is she? It’s a pretty simple question with a fairly simple answer: Trixie is off getting some time away from Nonnatus, presumably to recover from her recent struggles with alcohol abuse. She allowed her addiction to get the best of her and, as a result of that, put herself in a position where she could harm some other people with her habits.

“Call the Midwife” fans were in tears after Sunday night’s finale (23 February), which featured a devastating death and a powerful moment for Trixie Franklin. The season 9 finale was hailed for its sensitive handling of Ann Mitchell’s character Elsie Dyer battling against Oesophagus cancer while being cared for by her distraught niece, Jennifer Kirby’s nurse Valerie.

One of the things that we’ve come to learn with call the midwife over time is that effectively, nobody is spared from a medical emergency. That includes Shelagh and Dr Turner’s au pair Magda, who found herself at the centre of some controversy over an illness. For more “Call the Midwife” article-talk we think that you will enjoy a visit to the Totally Pregnant website here: Totalypregnant.com

The Article Call the Midwife Trixie (BBC) First Appeared ON : https://gqcentral.co.uk

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Go to Source Author: Steve

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wolfpawn · 4 years ago

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I Hate You, I Love You, Chspter 147

Chapter Summary - Tom talks to Ben and Danielle before a call from Danielle that concerns him

Previous Chapter

Rating - Mature (some chapters contain smut)

Triggers - references to Tom Hiddleston’s work with the #MeToo Movement. That chapter will be tagged accordingly.

authors Note - I have been working on this for the last 3 years, it is currently 180+ chapters long. This will be updated daily, so long as I can get time to do so, obviously.

tags: @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog @jessibelle-nerdy-mum @nonsensicalobsessions @damalseer @hiddlesbitch1 @winterisakiller @fairlightswiftly @salempoe @wolfsmom1 @black-ninja-blade

'So, how did she take it?’ Ben asked Tom as they went on the last part of their press tour for the movie. 'She seemed to be okay meeting everyone and the photographers were obsessed with her.’

'I am in the proverbial doghouse.’

'For which part?’

'Not warning her.’

'You didn't warn her beforehand?’ Ben asked, slightly shocked.

'I told her that there was literally deaths to come. She gathered that meant Loki too, but she was angered that one, I died so early into it after all the promotion work I have been in and two, how particularly graphic it was. Apparently, that deserved a warning. I argued it was Loki, not me, she argued that since Loki had my face, her brain did not see it that way.’

'Completely understandable.’ Tim looked at his friend. ‘No, really. Sophie saw me disintegrate but I was not the first one to do so, so she was prepared.’

'I think Holland was more heartbreaking for Elle than anyone else.’

'I think that was the point of keeping it in, to break everyone's heart. He was actually half excited to meet her.’

'I think she half adopted him as a younger brother.’ Tom chuckled. 'As soon as he said he was half Irish and showed her pictures of Tessa, they were talking for ages.’

'She seemed to get on with Olsen too.’ Ben watched Tom's reaction to his words, bit Tom merely nodded. 'Is that not a little weird, since you two...what was the story there?’

'Nothing serious is was happened.’ Tom state firmly. 'Elle could get on with anyone and yes, she and Elizabeth were very amiable to one another. Elle has this thing where before her is none of her concern and all she is bothered by is us as we are. As long as it is in the past, whatever happened is fine.’ He explained.

'You realise, if you ever do anything to mess this up, you'll be the biggest fool to ever exist, you know that?’

'No, I am never risking Elle, if it were up to me…I think it will be my biggest regret.’

'What?’

'Not allowing myself to love her sooner.’

'You have her now. Appreciate that.’ Ben commented, handing Tom his coffee. Tom nodded. 'So, no post-premiere fun for you last night then?’

'Stop bragging.’ Tom growled, remembering Danielle's less than impressed face as she walked into the house after more than once glaring at him at reference to Loki's demise.

Ben chuckled. 'How did the media take it?’

'According to Luke, fine. A few people attacking.’

‘Nothing new there.’

'And more seeing how beautiful she is and happy we are.’

'Did she choose green on purpose?’

'Yes, apparently she thought it apt.’ Tom smirked. 'She seemed to enjoy it for the most part. I mean, she was slightly terrified, I could feel her anxiety but she took it well.’

‘I think she looked well beside you.’ Ben smiled. 'She would look even better with a ring on her finger though.’ He licked his teeth as he teased Tom, who glared at him. 'You know, the more you show that bothers you, the more everyone, myself included, will tease you about it.’

'Hey.’ Danielle was out of breath on the other end of the phone. 'Sorry, long session.’

Tom frowned. Of late, Danielle had decreased her training. He rang her over an hour and a half ago and the way she was panting told him she was literally just finished. 'Hey, how are you?’

'Fucking bolloxed. How are things there? Did the interview go well?’

'Yes. It did.’ He smiled at Ben who sat beside him to text Sophie. 'What was the session?’

‘Swimming, so much fucking swimming. Then a ten k after, why the ever loving fuck did I agree to it?’

'Who convinced you to do that?’

'Mark, from work. I was just talking yesterday and he mentioned his wife was a swimmer and how he was trying to get her to do Tri's with him and we got talking and I was talking about how I need to improve my swimming, I told you how I wasn't happy with it.’

'The technique, wasn't it?’ Tom recalled.

'Exactly, well she does lessons too, she was really big in long-distance swimming for ages and I said we should work together on a few things if she is keen on doing some Tri, so here I am with them and putting myself through hell.’ She explained. 'I am dying. I am after getting so unfit.’

‘You have not.’

'Oh, I have. My muscles are not trying to save my feelings, they are telling me in no uncertain terms that I am.’ She laughed.

Tom chuckled. 'I am back in two days, we can see if you are recovered by then.’

'I have another swim and run session then, so I doubt it. I also have to go to Suffolk soon, do you want me to hold off or go tomorrow?’

'Leave it until I get back. What are you going for?’

'My bike, the one you got. I need to bring it to London.’

'Elle, are you training again?’ Tom asked curiously, having asked before about Danielle's triathlon training only to be told she ceased it due to work.

'I am.’

'That's good. Right?’

'Yes.’ There was uncertainty in her voice.

'Elle?’

'I did something stupid.’

'What did you do?’ Tom was unsure what the response would be. 'Elle?’

'Mark and Hannah were talking about it and in a rush of blood to the head I did it too.’

'Did what?’

'I signed up to a race.’

'Surely that's a good thing, right?’

'After a year plus off, I don't know.’

'When is it?’

'September.’

'Well, there is plenty of time to train yourself up again after the time off, that's months. What's the issue?’

'It's the Tenby Ironman.’

'Iron...you mean...?’

'Yes.’

'A full one?’

‘A 2.4-mile swim, then a 112-mile cycle and a marathon-length run to boot.’ She recited.

'Is she fucking insane?’ Ben, who had, by being so close to Tom, been half listening to the conversation, could not stop his reaction. 'Why would anyone do that?’

Tom was still processing the sheer distances. 'Elle, are you...why?’

'I always wanted to do one, now I feel I can.’ She explained.

Tim could hear something in her voice, he was uncertain if Danielle even knew it was there, but there was a slight hint of something that made him think something was not entirely right. 'Well, we better get your bike sorted.’ He made sure his tone was light and jovial. 'How will you juggle it with work?’

‘I wanted to talk to you about that. I am going to be taking less work for the next few months. I mean, I'll still be in charge of the office, I will still be the boss, but I...I have been asked to take time to do something else too.’

Tom frowned at the phone. 'Elle? What's going on?’

'I got made an offer. I want to take it.’

'What is it?’

'Remember when I assisted Waters with the whole thing after my course work?’

'Yes, I was the one to tell you your results last year.’

'I am being asked to be the foreperson for the new way it is done, they want me to take the time to do it, I have six months to write it. I want to take it.’

Tom didn't know what to say. 'Will you have to travel?’

'Only for the meetings in Safeguard. I will have to go to the office twice a week also, but I can work from wherever in the world I want. We can do the summer by the coast we were talking about.’

Tom's brows rose at that. He wanted them to get to Southampton for part of the summer because he had work there and he had wanted Danielle to come with him but she was concerned about work. 'That's incredible.’ He chuckled. 'Really, that's….that's incredible.’

'You approve?’

'Fuck yes, I approve. That's great.’

'I was worried you wouldn't.’ There was relief in her voice.

'No Elle, that's brilliant.’

‘The situation with the new guidelines?’

'Yes?’

'Tom, it's worth a small fortune, I... I cannot believe this. I'll be published for this. I will be cited material.’

Tom felt a surge of pride in his chest. ‘I can think of no one better, Elle. Between this and the Ironman, you'll be incredibly busy.’

'That's sort of the plan.’ That caused Tom's brows to furrow. 'I better let you get back to work, Love. Say hello to Ben for me. I better go home and get fed and changed here. I have to get some shopping in too, so I will talk to you before bed tonight okay?’

'Okay, Darling. I'll talk to you then.’ Tom stated.

'Love you.’ With that, and without waiting for a response, she hung up.

Tom took his phone from his ear and looked at it in time to see the words “call ended” on the screen.

'What's up?’

'I am not sure. There's something going on with Danielle.’

'In what way?’

‘I’m not entirely sure but there is something in her voice. For someone who is moving up at work and supposedly wants to do an Ironman, she does not seem overly enthused.’ He declared.

'You are probably reading way too much into it.’ Ben commented. 'If someone said I had to do a marathon after all that other stuff, I wouldn't be overly enthusiastic either.’

Tom did not respond, instead he looked at his phone.

Back in London, the smile that Danielle had forced on her face to talk to Tom fell off and she felt herself become consumed by her feelings once more. Starting the engine on her car, she considered what she could do to wear her out even more for the evening so she would collapse into bed and fall asleep rather than be awake with her thoughts. As "Human" by Christina Perri came on the radio, she swallowed as she focused on the words, barely able to stop her eyes welling up

#i hate you i love you #wolfpawn #chapter 147 #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fic

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holycafe · 4 years ago

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Trying not to seem like I’m stalking your tags but...I need to know more about your dogs. They sound adorable.

I’m always happy to talk about my boys!

So, this is Lenny. He’s a little more stoic than my other dog, though it’s all put-on. He loves everyone really, he’s just very calm. Though he can and does get excited.

My favourite memory of Lenny so far was when he was about one-year-old. For the first few months when we had him, I spent most of my time at home because it was my final year of university. So the first day that I went to work full-time after graduating was also the first day I spent more than a few hours away from Lenny. So, when I came home that night, he literally jumped on me, knocked me to the floor, and wouldn’t let me up for about five minutes (he’s a big 40kg dog and was just about fully grown at that point) while he just kept barking and licking my face xD

Some facts about Lenny:

He’s the smartest dog I’ve ever had.

He’s very, very gentle.

He loves to hunt flies and will get hours of entertainment out of it – as do we watching him. He is yet to catch one, but he’s still the first point of call if I see one in the house.

When he’s happy, he likes to just carry toys around with him. He will also hug them (as pictured above)

He has a mark on his forehead that kinda looks like a heart <3

He loves the snow, which is very apt considering he was named after Captain Cold.

This is Vinnie, he is the exact opposite of Lenny in terms of personality. Where Lenny is gentle and calm, Vinnie is boisterous and excitable.

My favourite memory of Vin was only a few months after we had him. I was sitting in the living room waiting for my mum. She came into the room holding a couple of cinnamon buns, and called Vinnie in from the hallway so that she could shut the door after her; all I heard was the little patter of his paws on the hardwood floor as he ran to us. Then out of nowhere he just appeared diving through the air – all four paws off the ground, and already about two feet up in the air – trying to get the food from my mum’s hands xD

Some facts about Vinnie:

He’s extremely loving. When he wants a fuss, he will just bury his head forcefully against your body. He absolutely loves hugs.

He’s very food orientated and will eat anything.

Unlike Lenny, Vinnie hates snow with a passion because he doesn’t like getting his paws wet.

He drinks in a very funny way. It’s difficult to describe, but it’s just weird and I love it.

He looks up to Lenny as though Lenny is his big brother (though they aren’t actually related) and will copy him in pretty much anything he does, though often you can tell Vinnie doesn’t actually know why they’re doing something.

That’s not everything, but I guess I should stop now. So, one last picture before I go.

Thanks for the ask, from Lenny [left], Vinnie [right], and Ellie [me].

#long post #dogs #personal post #random stuff #italian spinone

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sophieellisbextorarchives · 4 years ago

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Lockdown's dancing queen: Sophie Ellis Bextor explains how she's survived with five sons while performing web concerts from her kitchen - and owes her life to the NHS after almost dying during childbirth

SOURCE: https://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-8371137/Sophie-Ellis-Bextor-talks-surviving-lockdown-five-sons-performing-concerts-kitchen.html

Any mother of five who is still sane after two-and-a-half months of lockdown will surely have some survival tips for the rest of us. And Sophie Ellis-Bextor does indeed have advice.

Come Friday night, when the textbooks have been flung in a corner and you've finished screeching at the kids, you should dig out your heels and put on your sparkliest hot pants, she says.

'If you don't own a sequined one-piece, you should get one,' the singer insists. 'They make you feel like a disco superhero!'

She would also recommend a glitterball to hang in the kitchen. It will distract from the dirty dishes, she says.

Tidying the kitchen is optional, though: 'I do try to but if there's the odd dish in the sink, who cares?'

When the history of the great British lockdown is written, there will be villains (take a bow, Dominic Cummings) and heroes.

And Sophie Ellis-Bextor will surely be in line for a medal, for services to the national dancefloor (kitchen disco division).

Every Friday night for ten weeks she has donned her own glad rags and, via the magic of social media, invited us all to a disco round at hers.

She has been in charge of the mic, singing her own hits (with tweaks) and cover versions of some of her other favourites (speaking of favourite things, she even does a mean Julie Andrews).

Each week she has changed the lyrics of one of her biggest hits, Take Me Home, to the lockdown-friendly Stay At Home. We cheered. We heeded. 'Well, most people did,' she says.

Lots of entertainers have been doing their stuff in lockdown. Few of them have done so with five children in tow, though, and with such pizzazz.

You'd never guess it from the size of her waist but 41-year-old Sophie — whose mother is former Blue Peter presenter Janet Ellis — has five sons, aged from 16 down to 16 months. Her family life has never really been a part of her work.

But at the start of lockdown, something changed and she decided to stop being so precious about the work/home life divide.

'I've always been quite private, never showing the kids' faces, that sort of thing,' she says.

'But suddenly it all felt totally irrelevant. I just had this desire to sort of connect with people, to have fun and do something that just distracted us all — and for me, as an entertainer, that meant getting up and putting on a show.

'If it was going to be a show in my own house, the kids had to be involved as we're all locked down together. That overwhelmed any other emotion, really.

'I said to them, 'We're going to have a party. Do you want to come? What do you want to wear?'

'We pulled out all manner of sequined things we already had. They got out costumes, hats, whatever. There were no rules. They could be in their pyjamas if they wanted, because they often are.

'At the end of the first one, I remember making a joke like, 'This could be the end of my career.' '

In another time, it could have been. What too-cool-for-school singer sashays around the Lego, for goodness' sake? And what pop star hoicks a baby onto her hip, limbos around the lightsabers or attempts some sexy strutting when there is a pint-sized Superman in the way?

'It has been quite surreal, hasn't it?' she says with a laugh. 'But this whole situation is surreal, so I guess it has been fitting.

'We've had all sorts — the kids joining in, or sitting there bored with it all as I dance around them. We've had the baby crawling across the floor, trying to pull the plug out of the router. It's not stuff you normally have to contend with when you go on stage.'

And the performances have been all the more magical for it, I suggest. Her kitchen discos have been in keeping with the national mood, which lurches between delirium and despair and involves much trying to get on with the day job, with the kids at our feet.

All our kids are represented in hers, too. There is Sonny, 16 and a typical teenager, who mostly rolls his eyes at the idea of being in his mum's disco 'but actually he's invaluable because he helps with the baby so I can relax'.

Kit, 11, has 'kind of dipped in and out of the discos. He has missed a few. Sometimes he'd just rather do something else'.

Ray, eight, and Jesse, four, are generally game for anything — but if the children all join in at the same time, while wearing masks, the potential for chaos is high.

Last is baby Mickey, who likes to reach for bright lights. And cables. And sparkly shoes.

'I think what has kept some people tuning in is the music, but others are only watching to see if any of my kids injure themselves,' Sophie says.

People may also be tuning in to see her game attempts at making the most inappropriate songs kid-friendly. Her new repertoire includes the highly suggestive Prince song Gett Off. If the kids ask, it's a song about getting off the climbing frame, she explains.

When we speak, Sophie is preparing for — sob! — the last lockdown disco. Kitchen Disco No 10 will finish with a rousing rendition of the Madness hit Our House, which contains the lines 'Our house it has a crowd/ There's always something happening/ And it's usually quite loud'.

How apt. That sums up family life in all its messy glory.

It will be the end of a very weird chapter for Sophie.

'We could keep going but I'm getting the feeling that lockdown is being eased. There is a different feel, so it's time to stop. Although I'm bad at saying 'never again'.'

It has been a blast — and Sophie admits she has benefited herself.

'The discos have done my soul and my spirit the world of good. I've always turned to music anyway when anything has been happening in my life, good or bad, but I don't know what shape the past few months would have taken without this outlet.

'I've been doing cover versions of songs and they have all basically been like love letters to people I can't see any more.'

Lockdown came earlier for this household than for most of us. One of the children showed symptoms even before the schools closed, so they all isolated early.

That Sophie's stepfather — Janet's husband, John Leach — was having chemotherapy as part of his cancer treatment made the situation even more serious.

They are a close family. Janet, who lives only a few streets away in West London, is used to popping in and out, and provides childcare once a week. Any contact at all between them stopped overnight, as it did for so many families.

'I haven't hugged my mum since I don't remember when,' Sophie says. 'They couldn't leave their house at all at the beginning, so it was a case of leaving some groceries on the doorstep. My stepfather has Stage Four lung cancer and was in the middle of chemo, which had to stop.

'Now, thankfully, it has restarted but it has been a terrible time — devastating, really. For so many families the world has just tilted.' The older children understand why they can't see their grandparents, the little ones less so.

This is a united family (Sophie's mum split from her father, film and television producer Robin Bextor, but they are all on good terms), yet not necessarily one that ever did things by the rulebook.

Many will recall the furore when Janet — then the nation's darling, as many Blue Peter presenters were — fell pregnant with Sophie's brother Jackson. She was unmarried at the time and it was a national scandal.

It sounds as if Janet was the sort of mother Sophie has become — old-fashioned about some things (table manners, eating together) but more relaxed about others. And Mum having a slightly crazy day job was par for the course.

'I remember going with her when she did a skydive. She was in the Guinness Book of Records at one point for the highest-altitude jump for a female. At the time it was just normal.'

Janet didn't mind when Sophie decided she would not go to university because she wanted to join a band. 'Many parents would have said, 'No, we have paid for this private education. You will go,' but they never did. They were completely supportive.'

And of course, it worked out. Sophie started to get attention in the industry in the Nineties with indie band Theaudience — but in 2000 her career went mainstream thanks to a feature spot on the song Groovejet (If This Ain't Love) by Spiller.

Further hits followed. Then, in 2013, she went even more mainstream, signing up for Strictly Come Dancing. Her Charleston was a thing of wonder but she lost in the final to Abbey Clancy.

She knew her husband, The Feeling bassist Richard Jones, for a year before they started dating. When they did, it was something of a whirlwind and she discovered she was pregnant within weeks.

'Sonny was premature, so he was actually born eight months after we got together. Weird maths.'

Then, finding that it was rather fun, they kept having children. 'In a way I think it sort of set the tone, having Sonny so early. We've never really known what it is to be just the two of us.'

Juggling a pop career with five children can't have been easy, but her laid-back approach must help.

Some aspects of her parenting style have come in handy in lockdown, she says. 'I try to get up and dressed myself, but I'm not bothered if they want to stay in their pyjamas,' she admits.

Other aspects of lockdown have been hard. She admits she is not a natural home schooler.

'With five, it has been really difficult keeping up with the school stuff. I think their teachers do a brilliant job and I can't compare.

'At the start I did try hard, but to be honest I was feeling a lot of pressure to be running the home and making them emotionally happy. I quit quite early, realising it was making me really tense and really unhappy.

'We've kept the eldest two doing more formal work (Sonny is in his GCSE year, she explains) but with the little ones it's more about projects they can do.'

She says it isn't practical — or even desirable — to turn their home into a school. 'I'm hoping that home is where they learn to interact with each other, where they learn how to be happy, how to be kind.'

They have all been clapping on the doorstep on a Thursday night, too, aware of the debt they owe the NHS.

Sophie's life was saved by doctors when she suffered from complications during her first two pregnancies and gave birth prematurely both times. Kit weighed just 2 lb 6 oz.

'Anyone who has ever had a loved one's life in the hands of hospital staff knows what it is to feel that gratitude,' Sophie says.

'If it wasn't for them, I wouldn't be here and neither would my first two.

'I'll never forget their faces, the doctors and nurses who treated us in the neonatal unit. You don't, because you owe them everything.'

To be a singer in this climate is perhaps to feel a little superfluous, but Sophie says the only things she can do are sing and dance. The reaction from the wider world to her 'little discos' has been heartwarming.

'If you can make people smile and laugh at how daft it all is, then you make a connection that is actually quite special.'

We are getting all wistful now, when I suggest that her sons will grow up knowing they were a part of something magical. She laughs.

'They are more likely to roll their eyes at their crazy mum dancing around and tell me to keep the noise down!'

#Sophie Ellis-Bextor #Instagram #Daily Mail #Kitchen Disco #article #interview #British #Singer-songwriter

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blair-the-navigator · 4 years ago

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Make Me Feel I Was Worth Something

It felt as if the room had doubled in temperature overnight, between the sun’s direct glow against the half-breed’s pelt, and the emanating warmth from the body positioned against his own. The usual increase would be bothersome, but given the comfort of being nestled close to the only one his mind was constantly focused on.

“...and ne’er will we ever find solace, in a home we forge alone...”

The softly flowing cadence caused the ferret to sink into his partner’s chest, Blair’s walnut fur coalescing with the copper shine of a fox that held him close. There was a safety in his arms that couldn’t be matched in any other capacity, and though he would never admit it, Blair didn’t know how he could spend a morning not being soothed by Ellis’ rich timbre.

“It’s always somethin’ sappy with ye’.”

“...and yet, you didn’t stop me before I was finished.” The fox ran his claws through Blair’s messy mop of hair. “Almost makes me think you might have even enjoyed it, dare I say.”

“Watch your tongue.” Blair adjusted his head to look towards the fox’s own, placing a paw beneath Ellis’ jaw. “I won’t tolerate yer slander.”

“I don’t believe you’ve ever been able to stop me before.” The slightly muffled words fought against the ferret’s opposition. Ellis wriggled himself upwards to free himself from the obstruction. “We need to get up. It’s already light out.” He shuffled through a bag beside their bed, pulling his clothes for the day and resting them beside the pair. “We promised my mother we would be over tonight, and I won’t have us waiting until the last minute... again.”

Blair chuckled softly, extending his body across Ellis to also rummage through the bag for his own clothes. “That was not my fault in the slightest, and ye’ know it. If memory serves me right, you decided that the moment before we left was the perfect time to-”

The fox rolled himself on top of Blair, clamping his muzzle shut tightly with his paws. “That was absolutely not me, you rodent.” The struggling ferret managed to remove the fox’s grip and wrap an arm around his neck, pulling him into the bed and attempting to smother him against a pillow.

“Don’t tell me that ye’ didn’t have a good time.”

Ellis planted his paws against the bed, pushing himself up against the much less physically apt ferret attempting to hold him down. The force caused him to roll to the floor, audibly grunting as he made impact with wood.

“You would like to think so highly of yourself, wouldn’t you?” He flashed a smirk before getting to his feet. He tossed the now lighter bag at an unsuspecting Blair. “Stop stalling. I’m going to clean up.”

The ferret watched Ellis grab his clothes and walk slowly out of the room, ensuring that each step was ingrained in his memory.

---

Frigid air wasn’t expected for the evening, but the two found themselves making the trek home with their breath visible with each passing step. Blair held tightly onto Ellis’ arm, very much struggling to maintain the same pace as the much taller fox. Every stride felt like it’s own marathon.

“I don’t think yer mother takes to me.”

“We have this conversation every time we leave her place. No, she does not... but I do not care.”

“I know ye’ don’t, but I do.”

Blair felt the strides shorten, possibly due to his obviously exasperated speech. He took the moment to rest his head against Ellis’ arm. “Always the same talk, every dinner... children. I don’t know what ye’ tell her when I’m not around, but I s’ppose it involves a lot of ‘oh mother, I promise you, one day!’”

Ellis’ head fell forward as he laughed at the thought. “Yeah, that’s it. I’m so afraid of my mother that I’ll say whatever it takes to make her happy.” He placed a paw over Blair’s, giving them a loving rub. “It’s... more your line of work. I don’t think she sees it as...”

“...as real work, eh?”

“That’s a good way to put it.”

The two were quiet for a moment, taking in the soft wind and small chirps of insects.

“...well, you tell ‘er that next time she’s found herself in the thick of Evenglade, she would wish that someone like m’self was there.” He stared at the ground as he walked, losing his normally chipper tone. He swallowed before continuing. “On that note... I’ve been meanin’ to talk to ye’ about all of that.”

He halted his own pace at the end of the phrase, allowing Ellis to slow and stop his own. They faced each other, and the fox looked down at the concerned ferret, who’s demeanor was abnormal at best.

Oh.

“Is everything alright?” He used a paw to raise Blair’s head to meet his eyes, taking note of the lack of eye contact. “Did something happen?”

“O’ course not, no.” Blair looked above the fox’s head, trying as best he could to avoid any shake in his voice. “No, no... no, not... not yet, I guess.”

“Not yet. What do you mean by yet?”

“I’ve... been thinkin’.” The ferret closed his eyes and took a deep breath before continuing. “I know ye’ want to be close to your mum, and I want that for ye’, I really do.” He felt his hands tremble slightly, and though he didn’t believe it to be noticeable, Ellis could feel it instantly. “But I... I can’t continue my work here. I’ve traveled every corner of this place. It was just a hobby o’ mine for so long, but I think I’ve gotten pretty good at it.”

“You certainly have... but you know that I can-”

“-ye’ can’t go with me, I know.” The last word broke with a pain that he couldn’t avoid. “That’s... that’s the problem now, isn’t it? I can’t just leave ye’ here and go off doing what I feel like I’m meant ta’ do, or... am I even meant ta’ do this? Am I even doin’ things right?”

Ellis could feel a panic setting in, and before it could spiral past a point of coherency, he pulled Blair tightly against him. He leaned his forehead against the mess of cold hair on the ferret’s head, cradling the back of his neck with a paw.

“Shh, stop talking about yourself like that... Blair, you need to breathe... there you go. Hey, listen to me.”

He gently lifted Blair’s head once more, this time making sure that there was an acknowledgement before speaking.

“It’s late. We’re both tired, and I don’t feel like I have the right words that you need to hear right now.” He could see the beginning of an emotional break in Blair’s eyes, and at the very least, he wanted to be home for all of it. “We’re nearly there. How about we draw a bath and take it easy? This is nothing that can’t wait until morning.”

Blair went to speak, but felt his throat close before anything could escape. He settled for a slow nod, mustering a forced grin before falling back into Ellis.

“That settles that, then. Don’t fret yourself into a frenzy over this, I trust we can figure it all out in time.”

The wind picking up pace, Ellis took Blair’s paw and resumed his long strides. A flickering lantern signaled them home in the distance, and no matter what the remainder of the night held for the two, they would make the most of it. [Date: October 18, 1066]

#BOTGD2 #blair blogs #ellis blogs #backstory #one shot

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sherlollysecretsanta · 6 years ago

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Situational Obliviousness

This is the mod fanfic gift for @ukthxbye , who wanted a certain sentence used in a Sherlolly fic.

“That’s probably just how it is.” Molly sighed as she sipped her tea and turned to look at her brother-in-law. I will never manage to surprise Sherlock, no matter how hard I try. And trust me, I have tried. He is worse than a little boy at Christmas sniffing around under the tree.”

Mycroft smiled slightly at that. She could see that was an apt description of Sherlock. Quite possibly, that was what he had been like as a boy; Sherlock didn’t have many concrete memories of his childhood, thanks to the conditioning done after his poor little friend’s death. Now, he was piecing together things with the help of his brother, but yes. It had lead to some very sleepless nights while Sherlock had doubts about a great number of things.

But never her. Never them. And she was so eternally grateful that one good thing had come out of this mess.

“What, exactly, are you trying to keep a secret from him?” Mycroft asked before taking a sip of his own tea. “Your upcoming blessing?”

Molly’s eyes widened and then she glared at Mycroft. “If you say one word, Mycroft, I swear, I’ll stick your umbrella up your arse...with the sword uncovered.”

He chuckled. “Trust me, Sherlock is oblivious. He thinks you’re keeping a different secret, that you’re leaving your post. You could wave the test under his knows and maybe then he’d realize your frequent sick days aren’t a protest, it’s morning sickness.”

The mere mentions of the words “morning sickness” gave her stomach a lurch and she made a face. “I am not suited for pregnancy.”

“I know of many top obstetrics and gynecology doctors. Most of them female. When Andrea had her child, she researched everyone in the country. I’m sure she’ll share with you.”

“How is she, by the way? Have you seen her since she left your service?” Molly asked.

Mycroft nodded. “She asked me to be the godfather.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful!” she said. “And you did say yes, right?”

“Not yet.” He frowned. “What could I possibly offer her son that she won’t already give him?”

“A safe place in case anything happens to his mum or dad,” Molly said, reaching over to pat Mycroft’s hand. “That’s what I gave Rosie, after everything with Mary, when John simply couldn’t. And you’ll care about him, I know you will, as much as you’ll care about your niece or nephew.” She finished her tea and then set the cup down before getting up and kissing Mycroft’s cheek. “I suppose I better tell him so he doesn’t wear a rut in the carpet thinking he’ll need another pathologist. Well, full time, anyway. He will when I’m on maternity leave.”

“I’m sure that won’t occur to him right away,” Mycroft said wryly, kissing her cheek in return. She rather did enjoy tea with her brother-in-law; it was a holdover from their time when Sherlock was away, and it was a nice bit of relaxation with excellent tea and Mycroft’s cheat days allowed from some yummy treats, though today she’d abstained. She really didn’t think herself suited for pregnancy.

She made her way home to Baker Street and when she got in, she saw Sherlock with sheet music all around him, scribbling a few notes here and there. She moved behind him staring over his shoulder. “Anything interesting?” she asked.

“I haven’t been able to get this out of my head,” he said.

“What kind of tune is it?” she asked as she tilted her head.

“A soft piece. Something...soothing, I suppose,” He looked up at her. “Enjoy tea with the ice lord?”

“As usual, yes,” she said, leaning over and dropping a kiss in his hair. “Though not as much as usual. The thought of sweets today made me feel ill.”

Sherlock frowned. “So you’re really ill? You’re not just staging a sick out?”

She nodded. “Morning sickness is a right pain in the arse, it really is.” She pointed to the music. “Would that make a good lullaby? Because we might need one in eight months or so. Give or take.”

She watched as the last few sentences she’d said whirred about in his head and his brain struggled to compete. “Morning...sickness?” he finally got out.

She nodded again. “Common side effect of pregnancy, yes. We might want to make sure we stay stocked in saltines, at least until the first trimester is over. After that, I’ll probably have to consult an OB/GYN if I’m still having issues. Andrea has a list of the best in the country, apparently.”

Sherlock scrambled to his feet and gently placed his hands on either side of her waist, looking down, before moving to frame her face, a wide smile blooming on his face. “You’re pregnant?” he asked, his tone a happy one of wonder.”

“Yes,” she said with a soft chuckle. “About a month, I think, only because I haven’t done blood work to confirm.” She was going to say more but he swooped in for a kiss, gently pulling her against him, and she kissed him back, wrapping her arms around his neck. “So,” she continued when he was done snogging her. “You’re happy?”

“Very.”

“Good.” She gave him another quick peck on the lips. “Then go tell people. I’ll let you share the good news with your mum and Dad and John and Greg. I’ll tell everyone else.” He gave her another quick kiss and then went for his mobile. Yes, he was beaming and quite happy but as Mycroft had said, he was quite oblivious to the fact, and she idly wondered if they ever went through this again if she could surprise him twice...

Also @ AO3

#sherlolly #mollock #molly appreciation week #ukthxbye #fanfic #mod gift #sherlock

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peckhampeculiar · 5 years ago

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All hands on decks

TENDAI CHAGWEDA ACHIEVED HER DREAM OF BECOMING A DJ – AND NOW SHE’S ALL ABOUT HELPING OTHERS DO THE SAME.

The inspiring Peckham resident explains why she’s passionate about working with those who might struggle to access the DJ world otherwise

WORDS: EMMA FINAMORE PHOTO: LIMA CHARLIE

Many people consider their career mission over once they reach their dream job. But Tendai Chagweda isn’t like most people. The Peckham-born and raised DJ achieved her goal – being able to play music to other people for a living – and has now turned her hand to helping others achieve their own DJ dreams too.

Her Inspiring DJs school offers a wide range of workshops and classes, to help teach an even wider range of people all sorts of skills related to DJing. Through sessions at Mountview theatre academy and Peckham Levels, as well as classes in and around south London and up in Dalston, Tendai teaches everything from the basics on the decks, to how to operate as a professional DJ. Her students range from six to 50 years old.

It seems apt that Tendai is helping people achieve their musical ambitions in Peckham, having lived here her whole life – on Sumner Road – and beginning her DJ career in south London in 2007, playing sets at places like The Cube in Camberwell, and clubs in Streatham and London Bridge, spinning her beloved South African house music under her moniker, Petite DJ.

Now she’s DJed at places like the Shard, but it was here in Peckham that her love for music began.

“I was always raving; Lazerdrome in Peckham was my first experience of that,” she recalls, of the now-closed nightclub at the top of Rye Lane. Lazerdrome was open from 1988 to 2005, playing host to drum ’n’ bass, house, garage and jungle parties, as well as regular club night Innersense and DJ sets from the likes of Kemistry & Storm – who were huge in the ’90s UK drum ’n’ bass scene.

“I used to grab the mic, basically. Me and my girls who all grew up in Peckham were the ‘Dancehall Massive’,” Tendai laughs, remembering a chant she and her friends would shout. “We’d get the mic from the famous DJs.”

When a good friend who was also from Peckham offered to teach her to man the decks herself – rather than wait for someone to do it for her – Tendai was unsure at first.

“I wanted to be front of stage. Back then it was all about the person on the mic,” she says. “I wanted to be out there.”

She eventually changed her mind though and took some DJ courses, and although she gained the technical abilities required, she says she felt completely on her own as soon as the classes were over, with no guidance on how to use her new skills: “They took my money and then said, ‘Bye’. There was no aftercare whatsoever.”

Even though Tendai went on to establish herself as a DJ for clubs and events, specialising in South African house and even being interviewed on BBC World News about the rise of African house music in London, she never forgot that feeling of being left to fend for herself.

That’s what drove her to establish Inspiring DJs in 2016, bringing on board another impressive teacher – the award-winning DJ Smasherelly, who specialises in scratch and drop classes and is the tour DJ for big names like Stefflon Don and Estelle.

The school held its first classes at the PemPeople shop on Peckham High Street in November 2017 – “Nicholas [Okwulu] was the first person to believe in me,” Tendai smiles – and one of the first enquiries that came through was from the mother of an autistic child.

“He was an absolute pleasure,” says Tendai. “These people are excluded from society, but they have super powers! I refuse to call them ‘disabilities’. I’ve been attracting loads of people with super powers ever since.”

As well as a range of ages, Inspiring DJs is opening up the DJ world to those who might struggle to access it otherwise: people with ADHD, autism and dyslexia, as well as those from pupil referral units and foster care. What many teachers might see as hurdles in their pupils, Tendai embraces as strengths.

“For them, they love the encouragement and they love the autonomy,” she says of students with autism or ADHD. “Once I’ve taught them the basics, I just let them get creative without direction, but with lots of encouragement and motivation. It’s not difficult though because they genuinely have a super power, they get it [DJing] in a completely different way and style to other people. When I try to explain things to people without those super powers, they often overthink it, bring in too much logic.

“For some of the mums it’s a breath of fresh air seeing their children use their creativity in a way that is encouraged. It’s beautiful when you gain the trust of the mums. If they leave to go do their own thing, I record classes so they can see what we’ve done – it’s great when you see the parent looking back on what their child has achieved, and they’re like, ‘That’s my child!’

“I remember one mum [during a class delivered to foster care providers] just came up and hugged me – I guess she’d never seen her child in that capacity, being so enthusiastic.”

Working with young people from pupil referral units has been equally as revelatory. “They said they’ve never seen the kids so engaged ever,” says Tendai. “One of the kids kept on stopping us to ask when we were going to be doing it in schools. To hear they’d never been that engaged before, that touched my soul.”

Tendai describes how quickly pupils can pick up DJ skills. “One of the children, I call him my little David Rodigan [a reference to the iconic reggae and dancehall DJ] – within half an hour he was mixing, he’d never touched decks before,” she says. She also talks about how DJing is becoming more popular within schools: it’s starting to be taken seriously as a career choice.

This is where the other side of Inspiring DJs comes in: offering the “soft skills” required to build a business as a working DJ. Tendai offers coaching sessions for over-16s at offices she has in Vauxhall’s impressive Tintagel House, helping them plan for the future. “I find out what their dreams are, and teach them to dream big,” she says. “I basically do life-coaching with them, asking them, ‘Who are your dream promoters?’ and ‘What’s your idea of a dream salary?’”

Tendai tells how one of her students has gone on to work with some of his dream people in different capacities – proof that her holistic approach to DJ training really works.

Arguably, her success as a teacher is also down to the fact that she loves music. When talking about South African house, that passion really shines through: “A dream set for me would be sort of ancestral house – a lot of drums and chanting. A lot of the time the music we’re listening to, we don’t have a clue what they’re saying, but the beat and the rhythm is so entrancing. It’s hard to explain, but it’s when people just become one. No one knows what they’re saying but everyone feels it.”

This passion and emotion comes through in her selections and mixes: a fan got in touch with Tendai just a few days before we meet, enthusing about a mix CD she’d given them years earlier.

It’s an enthusiasm Tendai wants to pass on to everyone: as well as one-to-one classes, Inspiring DJs offers group sessions (for example parent and child, groups of friends) as well as fun sessions for birthdays and team away-days for local businesses.

Brimming with ideas, she talks about recent Netflix series The Umbrella Academy, and how she’s creating a DJ version of this in south London, acting as a platform to help her students get bookings. Southwark Council has already booked Inspiring DJs to play at an event, and instead of Petite DJ, it’ll be her young protégés taking to the decks.

She says real-life jobs like this will help them become better DJs, completing their training in the real world: “They’ll become more engaged, knowing what to play and how to keep their audience engaged.”

All this activity hasn’t gone unnoticed. Last year Tendai was nominated for Female Personality of the Year at the Zimbabwe Achievers Awards, a celebration of talent, art, business, expression and achievement in the Zimbabwean community (Tendai’s roots are in Zimbabwe), and she was even invited to Downing Street to talk to the prime minister’s business adviser about her work in local communities.

“The bread of that conversation was all about university,” she remembers of the Downing Street meeting. “But I said, ‘Sorry I’ve just got to interject here, I’m from the inner city, I personally haven’t gone to uni.’

“It’s about getting them to understand that not everyone wants to go to uni and not everyone can afford to go to uni, but they’ve still got the ability to do whatever they want.”

Tendai is living proof of this. She has achieved her DJ dream without a degree, and also teaches social media at London South Bank University.

“I don’t have a degree or any experience in universities, but I can still do it,” she says, reflecting the can-do, sky’s-the-limit ethos of Inspiring DJs. To all aspiring DJs out there, she says: “Come on down, we’ll show you the way.”

#featuredpost

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tenroseforeverandever · 7 years ago

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Dear Father Christmas… Chapter 23: December 24, 2038

MASTERPOST

Characters: Tentoo; Rose Tyler; Jackie Tyler; Pete Tyler; Tony Tyler; OC Hope Tyler-Noble; OC Charlotte Tyler-Noble; OC Wilfred Tyler-Noble; OC Therin Thomson; Javic Thane; Gray Thane; OC Tianza; the TARDIS; OC Abby Tyler-Milne;

Rated: Teen

Tags: Family!Fic; Kid!Fic; Pete’s World; Letters to Santa; Christmas Fic; Family; Fluff; Hurt/Comfort; Angst; Romance; Love; gun violence; violence resulting in death; life-threatening injury; life threatening situations; life threatening illness; original characters

Summary: When Rose Tyler was little, she always wrote a Christmas wish list to Father Christmas. As she grew older, the wish list became more of a letter to someone she could confide in once a year, but she fell out of the habit somewhere along the way. Now, as a new mum, celebrating her daughter’s first Christmas, Rose takes up writing her Christmas letter to Father Christmas once again.

Rose’s Christmas letters are excerpts from her life with her beloved Tentoo and their children in Pete’s World, written once a year, for each of 31 years.

Chapter Summary: Jackie decides to make Ugly Christmas Jumpers for everyone in the family.

Notes: Wow! Another chapter that got away from me! LOL And boy, did this one put up a fight.

To my betas, @rose–nebula and mrsbertucci: once again, this chapter would not be what it is without you. You gave me inspiration (which I still feel guilty about!) and we had many, many discussions about lots of things to get me through this, including a particularly hilarious discussion about aliens (I’m dying laughing just thinking about it now… I don’t know why I find it so funny, I just do!) Just thank-you, both, for always being there when I need you, and putting up with my whinging. I love you both!

Thanks to @doctorroseprompts for their 31 Days of Ficmas prompts. The prompt I used today was Santa and/or Elves.

I know it’s the middle of April, but since the weather outside (here in Ontario) is still frightful, I don’t feel too guilty about posting part of my Christmas story. I have eight more chapters to go for the full 31 Days of Ficmas. I’m not sure if I will post any more through the year, or just write them and post them at Christmastime in December. I’ll see how it goes… ;D

Also read at: AO3; FF.net; Teaspoon

December 24th, 2038

Dear Father Christmas,

My mum never does anything by halves. When Jackie Tyler sets her mind on something, she doesn’t hold back. She gets stuck right in; she takes the bull by the horns and beats it into submission. God help anyone or anything standing in her way. Just ask the Doctor…

(On second thought, best not. He might not take it too well, especially not after… well, you’ll see.)

Anyroad, ever since we welcomed my little niece, Abby, into our lives last autumn, Mum’s been on a knitting rampage. She taught herself. She started out with little things like baby mitts and booties, but quickly progressed to sweet little cardigans and jumpers. And she’s gotten really good! My very favourite one was an adorable navy-blue jumper with the words “I LOVE MY DADDIES!” emblazoned across the front in big, pink letters. Tony and Noah (the proud Daddies in question) loved it too, and dressed little Abby in it all the time, until summer came along, and they were forced to admit it was too hot for her to wear it anymore!

This year, sometime around August, Mum’s knitting took a rather… erm… dangerous turn. Stand aside, Molly Weasley: Jackie Tyler announced she was intending to knit jumpers for all of the Tyler clan, and their significant others, this Christmas.

And not just any jumpers: Ugly Christmas Jumpers.

She only told me and Dad, not wanting to spoil the “surprise” for everyone else. Honestly, we just had to grit our teeth and tell her what a “great idea” it was. It wasn’t like it would’ve made any difference if we’d told her how we really felt. Besides, this way we were likely avoiding the pain of a good hard smack, and months of her patented Jackie Tyler silent-not-silent treatment.

Anyway, it wasn’t like she’d told us about it because she was actually seeking our approval. No, we were to be models, though I rather think guinea-pigs would be a more apt description. Honestly, as Christmas approached, I was seriously beginning to think it would have been better to shut the entire Ugly Jumper Project down in its early stages and endure whatever punishment Mum might have dished out, but at that point, we were in too deep to turn back.

The worst part of the whole process was Mum constantly calling me throughout the autumn to come over to the mansion to try something on, or to bring over jumpers the kids had left behind when they came to visit, so she could compare the sizing with what she was knitting. To be honest it got to be a bit tedious very quickly, but I could hardly say no to her when she was throwing her heart into it. Besides, this way I was able to keep an eye out and nix any design I thought wouldn’t go down very well with the intended recipient.

But, the jumpers were, for the most part, not too bad. They were beautifully designed and made. I was honestly quite impressed. Most of them either featured a cute character like a snowman or penguin or something like that, or they were the traditional Fair Isle design, with rows of little repeating Christmas characters and symbols in garish colours. Regardless of the pattern, all of them had some sort of saying on them, like Joy to the World, ‘Tis the Season, or Let It Snow.

“Soooo, which one is mine,” I asked.

“Never you mind, little madam. For your information, I ‘aven’ started it yet. And even if I ‘ad… as if I would spoil the surprise.”

I suddenly had a horrible thought. Cold dread washed over me. “Erm… what about the Doctor’s…?” Ever since he had revamped her dishwasher to sing Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer seven or eight Christmases ago, Mum had been out for revenge. Not that she would admit it. From the look she gave me, you’d think butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth, but I knew better.

“Oh, I’m tryin’ to come up with jus’ the right pattern for ‘im. I’ve a couple in mind.”

“Muuuuum, don’t do anything rash, yeah?”

“Oh, honestly Rose, don’t be such a stick-in-the-mud. I’m jus’ tryin’ to create a little Christmas cheer.”

“Oi! I’m the one stuck in the middle of you and the Doctor and your flippin’ Christmas cheer. Me and Dad!”

She ignored me, of course, and did a complete about-face on the topic. “Oh, speakin’ of your Dad… I got his jumper finished. What d’ya think?” She held up a dark green jumper, with a comical Santa body on it. The pattern stopped at the collar, so Dad’s head would be taking the place of Santa’s head (your head, Santa!) The words Ho Ho Ho were knitted in bold yellow letters below Santa’s feet. “I’ll get ‘im to wear a Father Christmas ‘at and all!”

I had to laugh. “Good luck with that!”

“’E’ll do it if ‘e knows w’at’s good for ‘im!”

“That’ll make for more of your Christmas cheer, then…”

“Oh, don’t ya worry; I’ll make it worth ‘is while.” She winked at me. “There’ll be plenty of Christmas cheer and bells a jinglin’ around ‘ere.”

“Mum! TMI!”

“Since when ‘ave you been such a prude? I mean, jus’ look at the way you and ‘imself carry on.”

“Yeah, but there are certain things I really, really do not need to know. And that, right there: that tops the list! Look, I gotta run. Dad’s asked me to give a presentation this afternoon.”

“Oh, well, I suppose… Oh, Rose, wait a mo’. I meant to ask: Charlie, is she seein’ someone regular these days? Will she be bringin’ a date for Christmas Eve? I’ll need to make ‘im or ‘er a jumper too, yeah, whoever they are.”

“I dunno, Mum. I never know with that one these days. I worry… a lot.”

“She’ll be all right, sweetheart. It’s jus’ a phase. ‘Sides, she’s nearly twenty years old. I don’t need to remind ya w’at you were up to at ‘er age… gallivantin’ around with that bleedin’ alien. Not that you cared a fig about my worries!”

“Mum…”

“She’s jus’ like you in so many ways, so bloody-minded.”

“That isn’t helping, Mum! I jus’ hope you’re right… about it being a phase. Anyway, I’ll let you know as soon as I hear anything definite about her bringing a date.”

“An’ in the meantime, I’ll knit an extra generic sort of jumper, jus’ in case.” Mum must have noticed I was about to protest, because she cut me off before I’d even had a chance to open my mouth. “Nah, don’t worry; Lor’ knows, it’s no trouble. After all, Therin might still decide to bring someone, too, and I’ll need one for ‘er. Best to be prepared.”

“All right. Suit yourself. See ya soon. Love ya.” I kissed her on the cheek and headed out the door, the problem of Charlie weighing heavily on my mind.

--ooOoo--

That night as I was standing at the stove making supper, the Doctor came up and wrapped his arms around me from behind. He gave me a lovely kiss behind the ear. It was just what I’d needed. I’d been wound up all day.

“Penny for ‘em? You’ve been doing (might I say) a piss poor job of shielding your emotions.”

“That obvious, was it?”

“Yup.” He squeezed me tighter and gave me another tender little kiss. Even without our telepathic bond, I expect he would have figured out something was wrong. And I really had been sloppy about keeping my worry contained. To be honest, I’d been hoping he’d notice. “You could have just told me if something was bothering you.”

I leaned my head back against his shoulder, giving the sauce another stir. “I know. You’ve just been so stressed lately.”

The Doctor had been called in to help with seventeen frightened and violent Trumhurgi whose ship had crashed in Torquay. They were badly injured, and the Doctor was the only one who had any decent knowledge about their unusual physiology. It had been two months of providing medical care for them, sometimes round-the-clock for several days running. He’d been training Torchwood physicians and nurses as well, but it all took time. In addition, he’d been consulting about repairs on the Trumhurgi ship, and travelling back and forth in the TARDIS, obtaining spare parts and contacting worried family members, carrying their messages and even bringing them back to Earth to visit their recuperating relatives.

I’d been working on the case too, but I was helping out the traumatized humans who’d been caught up in the original crash and the violent, defensive outburst that had followed. Shots had been fired and, by some stroke of luck, there had been no deaths, but it had been a close call. Fortunately, I had a huge, experienced team at my command, so my end of the job had been a lot easier than the Doctor’s.

“I’m all right, love,” the Doctor assured me, as we dished up our supper and sat down at the table. It was the first time in weeks we’d actually been able to eat together. “Besides, by end of this week the last of the Trumhurgi go home in their very own, working-better-than-ever ship! Let’s have tonight be about us.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes. Now spill. What’s got you so upset?”

“It’s Charlie. I’m worried. I didn’t tell you about it because… well, the Trumhurgi… but Javic dropped by shortly after all that happened… with news.” The Doctor’s eyes darkened, and his lips tightened reflexively, but he waited for me to continue. “It seems Charlie has been taking a page out of Javic’s book, recently. She’s been, erm… let’s just say ‘embracing her sexuality’… a lot!”

“And he knows this how?”

“Well he ran into her at one of his favourite… spots.”

I sensed the Doctor’s anger flare, white hot. “He didn’t touch−”

“God, no! In fact, he’s sort of taken her under his wing, so to speak. Made sure she’s stayed away from all the dangerous places.”

The Doctor growled. He looked like he was fighting really hard to keep his emotions in check. His eyes flashed at me. It had been a long time since I’d been a target for the Oncoming Storm. It was properly frightening (and more than a bit thrilling!) “And you… you never thought to tell me? This? About our daughter?”

“You were so busy. And it’s not like−”

He launched himself out of his chair with a roar. “You kept this from me?”

Reflexively, I shrank back into my seat, like some timid little creature. “I’m sorry.”

He began to pace, tugging at his hair. Each time he passed me, he opened his mouth, but the words wouldn’t come out. His mental shields were locked in place and impenetrable.

After five long minutes, I decided enough was enough. It wasn’t my habit to let him intimidate me and I wasn’t about to chicken out now; history told me, it was far better to confront him, not let him get away with his bullying behaviour. “Doctor, stop! Enough. Sit down so we can talk.”

“Oh, so now you want to talk to me!”

“That’s was the point of having this conversation, yeah? Sit!”

He did as I asked, shoving his plate away from him, across the table. I grabbed onto his hand before he could move it, pouring my love through our bond. I was gratified when his shields began to give; it was only a little, but it was a beginning.

“Any other information you want to impart?” he bit out.

“Well… apparently she has one of Wilfred’s Vortex Manipulators, so… erm… she’s dancing through time and space.”

“Bloody hell!” He moved to stand again, but I held firm to his hand. He glared daggers at me. “Let go! We have to−”

“Have to what, Doctor? What do you propose we do? You’re not going to go storming in there like the Great Exterminator!”

“Try me!”

“This is Charlie… intimidation has never worked on that kid, and it’s not about to this time, either. We need to be rational and calm and supportive.”

“Supportive! But she’s−”

“I know. And Javic has been keeping an eye on her. He’s making sure she checks in with him, and he assures me she’s doing… fine.”

“Somehow, I don’t imagine Javic’s definition of ‘fine’ is quite the same as ours.”

I had to admit (but only to myself) I’d been thinking much the same way, though I knew Javic: he’d go to the ends of creation to protect any of us. “Hope’s been keeping in touch with her too,” I offered, hoping to appease the Doctor.

“Well that, that is a bloody recipe for disaster!” His anger flared.

Again, I had to agree with him, Santa. For all that she means well, Hope tends to get a bit bossy with her younger siblings. She’s mellowed over the years, but still… My arguments were crumbling around me. “You’re right. Let’s go!”

“What?”

“Let’s go… TARDIS. You. Me. Chat with our daughter.”

“But I thought you said...?”

“Changed my mind.”

--ooOoo--

Charlie, it turns out, was not thrilled to see us. I hadn’t been expecting a joyous family reunion or anything, but I think it would have gone a lot better if the Doctor hadn’t barged up to the bar where she was cheerfully chatting up some green-skinned bloke, waving his psychic paper around like some crazed maniac and bellowing to said bloke that Charlie was under-aged (an outright lie… on that planet) and if he didn’t want to find himself in a whole heap of trouble he’d better scram. He’d then grabbed Charlie by the arm and hauled her out of the building and into the TARDIS.

To say Charlie was furious was the understatement of the year! She was ranting on about how it was bad enough her “puritanical” sister was on her case, but the fact that we were now interfering in her life as well incensed her to no end. She only finally calmed after I ordered the Doctor out of the TARDIS. I would deal with him later.

In the end, there was very little I could actually do other than let Charlie know we’d both be there for her if she ever needed us. She assured me she was fine: having fun; being careful; and not doing anything too wild (and “bloody hell, Mum, I can’t believe I’m even having this conversation with you… it’s just wrong…”.) I tried to understand, but I just couldn’t put myself in that mindset, and I told her as much.

“It’s just such a relief to be able to have fun and feel good without any obligations. I have so many obligations, Mum. School, Hand in Hand, work... This makes me feel, well free.”

Oh, Santa, it was then I realized how much that little girl (young woman) had taken on in her young life.

She must have seen the look of horror on my face. She grabbed my hand, and our familial bond snapped into place. She read me like an open book. “Mum, don’t you dare feel guilty. You never, ever pressured me, any of us, to do anything we didn’t want. You encouraged us in the best way possible, you… and Dad.” She chuckled and rolled her eyes at the mention of her father. “This is just my way of letting go a bit, taking time for me. Can you understand that?”

“Course I can, love. I worry, that’s all. Promise me you’ll keep in touch, yeah?”

“Yeah…”

“And listen to Javic.”

“Muuuuum! I know!”

“Now, since we spoiled your evening with that young man, how about we take you out to supper, yeah?”

“That sounds great! And don’t worry too much about my evening. He was a bit of a tosser, anyway. I was just about to walk out when Dad came barging in like some daft Onidsessi on pep pills. Urrrgh,” she groaned, “promise you’ll never let Dad near pep pills. Can you imagine…?”

“Oh, god, your Dad… he’s out there… Not on pep pills, but you know as well as me, he’s quite capable of stirring up all kinds of trouble without them if he gets a bit bored.”

Thankfully the Doctor hadn’t been stirring up trouble. We found him, pacing back and forth in front of the TARDIS doors. Charlie skipped right over to him, stopping him in his tracks and planting a kiss on his cheek. I couldn’t help but smile. We might all drive one another completely mental sometimes, but there was no lack of love in our little family, and this incident had assured me our children always knew we would be a safe haven for them whenever they needed it.

With all our emotions running high, I never remembered to ask Charlie if she was bringing home a friend at Christmas, so Mum could plan an appropriate jumper. At this point, though, I didn’t imagine there would be anyone special, given that she seemed to be determined to stay away from serious relationships for the time being.

I couldn’t have been more wrong…

Santa, I need to run. We’re all at Mum’s tonight, and the jumpers have finally been unveiled. There were a few… complications. And I’m running interference! I’ll try to explain later.

Blimey! There goes the Doctor, now, and he looks far too happy for anyone’s good, especially considering… Look, Santa, I gotta go! I’ll finish this letter up later.

--ooOoo--

Santa, I’m back, but I’m not sure where the hell I’m going to begin. A lot of stuff went down tonight. A lot of stuff.

Mum was just itching to hand out her Ugly Jumper parcels to everyone; I couldn’t get her to sit still, she was so excited. We were still waiting for Charlie to arrive and for Tony, Noah, and Abby, too. The Doctor had gone to collect Charlie in the TARDIS. Mum was bouncing off the walls.

Thank goodness my brother and his family decided to show up just after the Doctor left. Entertaining Abby was keeping Mum rather brilliantly distracted, and it meant I didn’t need to entertain Mum. As it turned out, it was just as well Mum was preoccupied, because it gave her time to ease into meeting Charlie’s plus-one which turned out to be a bit of a shock for her, just not for the immediately obvious reason…

The lovely, familiar sound of the TARDIS filled the room about fifteen minutes after Tony arrived. She landed in her customary corner of Mum’s living room, wearing her traditional Blue Box disguise, but topped with festive snow and icicles, and a colourful wreath on her door. The door opened, and the Doctor stepped out, meeting my gaze with raised eyebrows and a little prickle of warning through our bond. He was being very guarded, not sharing any specific thoughts or images, and that made me distinctly uneasy.

Charlie followed him and was tugging behind her what could only be her date for the evening. The creature seemed to unfold itself from the TARDIS. It was very tall and rail thin. Charlie was holding onto one of its appendages, a hand of sorts, at the end of one of its four upper limbs, formed from an assortment of tentacle-like structures. “C’mon Hrau-Ard,” Charlie coaxed. “You’re gonna love my family! Hell, you and Dad are already like best mates!”

“Possibly a bit of an exaggeration seeing as we only met six minutes ago,” the Doctor countered, allowing Charlie and Hrau-Ard to step in front of him, “but he seems like a fine chap, I have to say.”

It took me a moment to get over my shock. Now, let me be clear, Santa, I have no trouble with interspecies relationships… I mean look at my darling husband, not exactly human for all he looks it. It’s just that Charlie, for all her sexual experimentation has never strayed far from standard humanoid partners before... at least according to Javic’s accounts. That’s why I needed to collect my thoughts before I moved forward to greet our new guest.

“Hello,” I smiled up into the creature’s majestic face. And majestic it was, by any standards… beautiful. Trust Charlie to pick a gorgeous date! A long muzzle, with an expressive mouth on the end, swooped up into a spectacular curved crest above it’s head. The crest had two main parts, a longer one below and a shorter part above. Its face morphed gradually from a rich teal colour at the muzzle to a deep indigo at the tips of the crests and was edged with many sensory tentacles and filaments. Two large purple eyes bulged above the snout, and several secondary eyes protruded from either side of the crests, set on stalks which were each adorned with several metallic rings. “I’m Rose Tyler, Charlie’s mum.” I held my hands out, spread open before me in the universal sign of peaceful greeting.

The creature bowed its head to me and dropping Charlie’s hand, held all four of it’s tentacle-tipped upper limbs out, mirroring me. Its fluting voice emanated from the crests. “Christmas greetings to you, Rose Tyler. My name is Hrau-Ard. It is lovely to meet you.”

“He’s male… mostly,” Charlie informed me, “so it’s okay to use ‘he’ and ‘him’.”

Hrau-Ard piped in, bowing his head to me again, “Those pronouns seem to be the most accurate.”

Before I could respond to Hrau-Ard, Charlie impatiently snagged the hand she’d been holding earlier and tugged him past me. “Well, come on in and meet the rest of the family!”

He hooted in surprise, his long tan-coloured tunic billowing and brushing me as he passed. It dropped halfway down his two legs and contrasted spectacularly with the blues and greens of his skin and had an opening in the back through which a pair of wing-like appendages extended. They were bright turquoise and filmy (too delicate to be proper wings) and vibrated as he moved.

I admit, I couldn’t suppress a chuckle at Mum’s incredulous expression as she met him. She passed Abby back to Noah, and looked Hrau-Ard up and down, offering him all the appropriate greetings. She had come a long way since her “bog-monster” days on the Estate and was extremely well-versed in alien diplomacy. After all, she’d welcomed plenty into her home over the years. But, despite all her training and experience, she was still my mum, and I nearly choked when she repeated his name back for clarification: “Howard? Your name is Howard?”

With a low whistle of approval and if the TARDIS was translating properly, amusement, Hrau-Ard inclined his head, his facial filaments bobbing with the movement. “I enjoy the way you say my name, Charlie’s Gran.”

“Oh, just call me Jackie, please. Howard! Of all the names!”

“Is this name of significance to you?”

Mum glanced nervously over to Pete, who was busy grilling Wilfred and Tianza about the medicinal properties of a Gallifreyan plant he was interested in using in a new Vitex drink. “Oh, ‘e’s jus’ an old mate of mine.”

“Fine fellow! Liked fruit!” the Doctor enthused from the TARDIS door with a broad, toothy grin. “I borrowed his pyjamas and dressing gown once!”

“Well then,” Hrau-Ard bleeped, “I am honoured to be his namesake.”

“Oh, off the two of you go then.” Mum shooed Charlie and “Howard” off to meet Tony, Noah, and Abby. She fixed a glare at the Doctor, who had stepped up behind me. “See, there, Time Lump! A proper alien, tentacles and all! ‘E at least ‘as the decency to look the part.”

“So sorry to disappoint you with my lack of appendages, Jackie (after all, I live my life just to please you),” he snarked back at her. “Fortunately, as it turns out, there’s one Tyler who is rather fond of my one, rather impressive appendage, just the way it is.”

“All right, you two,” I cut off Mum before she had a chance to bite back, “it’s Christmastime, yeah? Peace on Earth. See, the halls are all decked,” I gestured around me, “merry and bright. Let’s try to enjoy ourselves.”

“Ooooh, I’d like to deck ‘is halls, all right…” Mum grumbled.

The Doctor leaned out around me to shoot another barb at Mum. “Is that your resting Grinch face, Jackie, or are you just happy to see me?”

Mum lunged at him, slapping-hand poised and ready. Fortunately for the Doctor, I was still in between the two of them. “Stop!”

“Cuddly as a cactus; charming as an eel… Mrs. Griii-inch” the Doctor sing-songed.

“STOP!” My shout silenced the room, everyone turning to stare at me.

“Oh, don’t mind them,” Charlie cooed at Hrau-Ard, “that’s sorta their normal behaviour.”

“Look what you two made me do,” I hissed at Mum and the Doctor. “Be civil! Honestly!” Fed up, I made to leave the two of them and go to the kitchen to pour myself a well-earned glass of wine, when Mum caught me by the sleeve.

“Blimey, Rose!” she whispered at me. “That Howard fella ‘as wings!”

“Yeah, well spotted! And tentacles!”

“No, no, no! The wings! ‘E’ll never fit into any of my jumpers! Never! And ‘e’s so bleedin’ skinny and all. (Blimey, ‘e makes the Doctor look like a sumo wrestler, ‘e does!) The jumper I made would be…”

“Mum, you don’t need to worry. He’ll understand, I’m sure.”

She burst into tears. “But I wanted everyone to ‘ave… and now ‘e’ll be without something from me… An’ it’s Christmas…”

The Doctor stepped up, concerned. He put a gentle hand on Mum’s shoulder. “What’s wrong? If it’s what I said, Jackie… you know I was just taking the mick.”

“No, no, no… nothin’ like that, ya plum.” She patted his cheek and gave him a watery smile. “I’m jus’ disappointed is all.” She excused herself and rushed off in the direction of the powder room.

“What was all that about?”

“Promise you won’t tell her I told you?”

“Oh, you know I can keep a secret, Rose! Besides, I know better than to cross Jackie Tyler by leaking sensitive information. C’mon, give.”

I explained to him about Mum’s dilemma, how she had knitted ugly Christmas jumpers for everyone (his face blanched, probably imagining what she might have created for him) and now because of Hrau-Ard’s unexpected physical attributes, none of the jumpers she had set aside would ever possibly fit.

“Well, I could help,” he suggested. “She’s probably not going to like it much, and I can’t say I’m much of a fan of it myself, but I have an idea that just might work… if she’s willing.”

--ooOoo--

Everyone was so busy with canapes and punch and cocktails they never noticed Mum and the Doctor bundling into the TARDIS and the TARDIS dematerializing. The TARDIS was proud to be showing off her new “Silent Mode”: there was only a little bit of a breeze to indicate she had ever been there. (My little darling.)

They had only been gone for about ten minutes before the TARDIS rematerialized and Mum burst through the doors, beaming and carrying a neatly wrapped parcel: Hrau-Ard’s gift. To my utter amazement, she turned back to stroke the TARDIS’ doorframe, planting a soft kiss on the blue wood. “Thank-you, sweetheart. You’re a wonder, you are.”

The TARDIS hummed in response, a wonderfully joyous sound, as Mum practically skipped over to the Christmas tree to tuck the present underneath.

The Doctor stepped up beside me, closing the TARDIS doors behind him. “They hit it off like a house on fire,” he told me, “the pair of them, thick as thieves. Turns out when your Mum was ill a few years ago, and I put her in stasis, the TARDIS kept her company in her mind; they became fast friends. Brilliant!” He grinned down at me, wrapping his arm around my waist and pulling me against him as we followed Mum to the tree. Then he paused, and I glanced up at him to ask why we had stopped. The grin melted from his face. “Although… I don’t much like the idea of the two of them plotting against me behind my back.”

I just laughed and put my head on his shoulder. “Blimey… you’re getting a bit paranoid! How long were you gone in your timestream?”

“Five and a half days, Rose. Five and a half days… with Jackie Tyler on my TARDIS! That’s enough to make anyone paranoid!”

I admit, Santa, I shamelessly started to laugh harder. “How did you ever survive?”

“After the first day, I learned pretty quick to keep my head down. I made myself scarce.”

“Oh, you’ll be all right.” I nudged him with my elbow. “They won’t plot against you…” (…much, I added silently.)

“I heard that!” He arched an irritable eyebrow at me. “Do you realize she’s got her own room, Rose? No, not room, suite! The TARDIS gave her an entire suite of rooms with her own telly and a little galley too!”

“Awww, that’s lovely.” I was warmed through that the TARDIS had welcomed Mum so enthusiastically. My darling husband, however, was another matter. “Don’t worry, Doctor, I’ll protect you from any plotting. C’mon, we better hurry. I don’t think Mum will be able to contain herself much longer.”

Mum was gathering everyone together, so she could hand out her creations, and getting a bit shirty at people who weren’t paying attention, so I dragged the Doctor over by the hand and found a comfortable seat for us.

Content that everyone was present and listening to her, Mum spoke: “I’ve decided to start a new Tyler-family tradition: Ugly Christmas Jumpers! Made by yours truly.” She preened and there was a round of groans from the family and a perplexed hoot from Hrau-Ard. “Oi! They’re not really ugly… that’s jus’ w’at they’re called, yeah. See I’m wearin’ one.” She stood up to show off the jumper she was wearing. It was made of soft, silvery yarn and she had sewn tinsel across the front to form the words “Don’t get your tinsel in a twist,” in cursive script. Of course, she also had tinsel tied around her up-do. She looked sparkly and lovely. My Mum… She’s been through so much in her life, experienced so many odd things, and taken it all in stride; things that would make most people go completely loopy. I love her so much. I was positively chuffed to see her so happy, handing out brightly coloured parcels to all our family.

Dad was the first one to get his present, and he was a real sport about it, donning both his new Santa jumper and the Santa hat Mum had included in his parcel. Everyone burst out laughing when he stood up and smoothed his jumper down over his tummy, and said: “Do you think this makes me look fat? Ho-ho-ho!”

“Oh, sit down, you!” Mum admonished, but I could tell she was pleased as punch.

After that there was great excitement as we all opened our packages. Abby’s jumper was the cutest little thing, with an adorable gingerbread man wearing a Santa hat on a bright, red background. There were miniature gingerbread men down the sleeves and a few white strategically-placed snowflakes. I figure it’ll be a new favourite piece of clothing for her doting daddies!

Javic’s jumper featured a grumpy Santa reading his list of children’s names. The words “I’m at the top of Santa’s naughty list,” were emblazoned underneath. He was ecstatic, claiming it couldn’t have been more perfect. My jumper was… well, glorious in it’s tackiness! And I loved it! Oh, Santa, it was TARDIS blue, and a string of knitted fairy lights trailed all over it. In the middle, the fairy lights formed the words “Merry and Bright” and were lit up with little LEDs. Mum had outdone herself.

Hrau-Ard seemed uncertain what to do with his package, but Charlie soon sorted him out, helping him unwrap the gift. He held the jumper up in front of him, looking around at everyone else trying theirs on. He peered at the design on the front, all of his eyes trained on the bright patterns, and gave a long low hoot.

“Well, are ya goin’ to put it on, then?” Charlie prompted. “Here, I’ll help ya!” Together, the two of them made short work of slipping off Hrau-Ard’s tan tunic and replacing it with the jumper.

Hrau-Ard stood up out of his chair to show his jumper off. It was long, like the undertunic he wore, dropping to mid-thigh, and had perfectly aligned spaces for all four of his upper limbs and his wings.

“The TARDIS helped Jackie with the proper design and style, so it was compatible with his cultural expectations and with his body configuration,” the Doctor murmured in my ear. “She even provided all the yarn, if you can believe that!”

I took a closer look at the jumper. It featured an green-clad elf body on a scarlet background. Like Dad’s jumper, Hrau-Ard’s head took the place of the elf’s head. The words underneath said: “Take an ‘elfie with me!” It was hilarious! We were all in stitches, especially Hrau-Ard, who particularly appreciated the pun in the wording, and was honking with joy, and pulling out his mobile to take ‘elfies with everyone.

I couldn’t help but notice Therin was the only one not laughing. He wasn’t even smiling. He sat on the other side of the room glowering at Charlie and Hrau-Ard and their easy familiarity. Clearly, he hadn’t gotten over Charlie. He still loved her, despite her obvious disinterest in him… at least as a romantic partner. My heart absolutely ached for him as he quietly trudged out of the room, wearing his Fair Isle T-rex jumper.

“I should go check on him,” I whispered to the Doctor.

“Nah, he needs to work this out for himself, love. He can’t change what’s in his heart. He just needs time to come to terms with it.”

“I hate to see him so miserable though… I wish I could−”

“Oi!” Mum’s shriek of disapproval cut through my thoughts. “Where’s your jumper, then, Doctor?”

The Doctor shifted nervously next to me, and I felt his crushing fear in my mind. He picked at the wrapping paper on the package in his lap.

“C’mon then, ya big baby! Open it up! I made it special, jus’ for you.”

“That… that’s what worries me,” he muttered under his breath.

“Here, I’ll help you,” I offered. Honestly, Santa, Mum was right. He was being a big baby about it. Coward every time. “Best get it over with, like ripping a plaster off.”

“I don’t like plasters, and I don’t like the sound of your mum saying, ‘special just for you’. That, right there, Rose, sends my entire brain into mauve status!”

“C’mon, how bad can it be?” Even as I said the words, I glanced over at Mum who was watching the Doctor with a piercing, self-satisfied eye, and I braced myself. “Never mind. Just get it over with, yeah.”

By this time, we had the attention of the whole room, and the Doctor in a less-than-convincing act of enthusiasm, tore away the wrapping paper in one fell swoop. He reached into the shredded paper and pulled out the jumper, holding it up gingerly. Santa, I nearly fell out of my chair laughing. I swear the tears were pouring down my face, and the Doctor was scowling at me.

I better explain. The torso and most of the arms of the jumper were mostly brown. Around the cuffs of the arms, and at certain places over the shoulders were knitted green leaves. Some of them also trailed over the torso and back. When we lifted the arms of the jumper, we found dangling from their undersides none other than beautifully crafted, little knit pears! Pears, Santa, which as I’m sure you know are the fruit the Doctor despises most in the universe… for reasons that have never been very clear to me.

The crowning glory was the gigantic bird sewn firmly to the left shoulder: a partridge.

Mum had given the Doctor a Partridge in a Pear Tree-themed jumper!

Strangely, the bird was not knitted but a small-scale but realistic model, complete with feathers… and that gave me pause for thought, and trust me when I say the thoughts were not optimistic for the Doctor…

“Well, w’at are you waitin’ for?” Mum barked. “Put it on, then?”

“What? You expect me to wear this travesty… this… this pitiable excuse for clothing? Nope. Nope. Nope. Not happening.”

“Oh, just put it on, Dad!” Hope cajoled from across the room. “We’re all wearing them.”

“Yours don’t have pears and a great bloody bird attached, do they?”

“The jumpers are splendid!” Hrau-Ard spoke up with an earnest honk. “This is the most comfortable piece of clothing I have ever owned. And it is humorous too. Doctor, you really should try yours.”

Mum just about melted on the spot at Hrau-Ard’s compliment. “Oh, Howard! You’re such a love. But, you’re just sayin’ that!”

“No, I am sincere, Jackie. It is perfect. I think I like Christmas. And Ugly Christmas Jumpers!”

“Well then, sweetheart, I’ll make you another for next year, yeah?

Howard… I mean Hrau-Ard hooted happily in response, and Mum turned her attention back to the Doctor, by which I mean, she glared daggers at him.

“Oh, all right,” the Doctor conceded, “…if it means I don’t have to listen to any more of your harping,” he added under his breath. He stalked off to the downstairs loo, crushing the jumper in his clenched fist.

“I better go help him out…” I made my excuses and rushed off after him.

I heard Wilfred snickering to Hope, Gray, and Tianza, as I passed them. “Ten quid says they’re off for a snog… or worse.”

Hope just laughed. “No deal, little brother! That’s a sure thing.”

“Oi!” (I’m sorry, I had to protest!) “Enough out of you lot!”

“C’mon, Mum, face it,” Charlie interjected, “you two are an embarrassment.”

“Yeah,” Wilfred agreed, “I’ve lost count of the number of times we’ve had to spring the two of you from prison for public indecency.”

“Oi, what’s this then?” Mum leaned in for more tidbits of information, and I cleared out of the room as fast as I could.

Exasperated, I knocked on the powder room door. “Doctor, it’s just me.”

He opened the door to let me in.

“Blimey, we’ll have to watch ourselves. That lot are making wagers on whether or not we shag in here, and they’re telling Mum all about our arrests…”

He groaned, sniffing in disdain. “Bloody brilliant! Christmas, an annual excuse for almost completely unfounded gossip and rumour.”

“Exactly!”

“And then there’s this…” He held up the jumper. “I don’t know why I have to put on this preposterous get-up?”

“Because as I recall, a few years back, you mucked about with Mum’s dishwasher. Now it’s payback time,” I reminded him. “C’mon then…” I helped him pull off the (sexy) red jumper he was currently wearing, and I couldn’t resist running my fingers through the sparse hair on his chest. “Tell you what, though: if you’re a good boy and put the jumper on, I will make it very much worth your while…”

“Oh, yes!”

I dropped to my knees in front of him.

“What? Right now?”

“I’ll make it quick… I know all your secrets.”

He growled at me, his eyes darkening. “I’ll be wanting another round later tonight, Tyler.”

“You think so, do ya?”

“Of course, I’ll be happy to return the favour. I’ll make you come so hard, your screams will be heard all the way to Gallifrey and back! Think you’re up for that?”

I gazed up at him with what I hoped was a seductive smile and stroked him where he was now straining against the front of his trousers. “You’re on! But the real question is, can you manage not to scream? We don’t really need that lot making any more wagers at our expense.”

--ooOoo--

Sorry Santa, got off on a bit of a tangent there… It happens sometimes, as you’re well aware.

So… where was I? Oh, yeah, so fifteen minutes later, we came out of the loo. With my help (holding the partridge), we managed to get the jumper over the Doctor’s head. He looked very, very, extremely not happy, despite my recent… erm… display of affection. “I feel ridiculous!” he gritted out to me.

“It’s just for a few hours, love.” I patted his arm and took his hand for moral support and made bloody sure to conceal my amusement from him.

As we returned to the living room, out the corner of my eye, I was pretty certain I saw some money changing hands, although, to his credit, the Doctor had kept very quiet and I had checked that my hair and make-up were in order. Maybe they were wagering on whether he’d be wearing the jumper… Who knows?

Anyway, I had to agree with the Doctor’s assessment: the jumper did look more than a bit silly, but everyone cheered and laughed at it. They were having so much fun over it, and the Doctor ended up being a good sport, showing it off, spreading his arms and making silly faces about the “vile” pears dangling from them.

I admit, I kept to myself the fact that I thought there had to be more to it than just a jumper with pears and a big, daft bird. Mum had waited years to get her revenge. She wasn’t about to let him off with something so… simple. I could only wonder what she had planned and when it would happen.

As it turned out, I didn’t have to wonder very long.

It was only a few minutes later when Mum called us all over for supper. She, of course, had place-cards at every setting. The Doctor was sat between Hrau-Ard and Gray, somewhere in the middle of one long side of the table, and Mum and I were directly across from them. Charlie was on the other side of Hrau-Ard; Noah and Tony were sat on either side of Abby, who was in Tony’s old high chair at one end of the table; and Dad was at the other end. Everyone else was scattered randomly around.

As the first course was served, everyone began to chatter to one another. The Doctor seemed quite relaxed, but I couldn’t help noticing the way Mum’s eyes kept fixing on him as he made cheerful small talk to everyone around him. Her lips pursed reflexively every time he stopped talking. She tried a couple of times to get Dad to tell us about something that had happened at work, but he had insisted he didn’t want to talk shop. He was determined to take some time away from it.

“Fine,” Mum muttered under her breath, “just tryin’ to liven up the conversation. Honestly.”

“I thought we were having a lovely time,” I told her. “Everyone’s relaxed and chatting… well except Therin, but you know… What’s going on? You’re up to something. I know you. You never ask Dad about Torchwood.”

“Pfffft, don’t be daft! Course I ask ‘im. And jus’ w’at do you mean ‘up to somethin’’? W’at could I possibly be up to?” With that, she turned deliberately away from me and began speaking to Hope about the progress of the Lunar settlements and asking her how she was finding living on a base. “I don’ know if I could take it, yeah. No fresh air, being cooped up inside all the time. I think I’d lose my mind, yeah.”

The Doctor’s eyes brightened as he responded to her. I was relieved he didn’t end up spewing out something rude about her already having lost her mind years back, which honestly seemed like it would be the natural course of the conversation. Instead, he launched into one of his diatribes about the environmental systems on the bases and how they purify the air.

With a smirk, Mum sat back in her seat to listen.

“…and remarkably, the fundamental design never changes from base to base, year after year. It’ll be centuries before someone gets the bright idea that basic human needs aren’t quite being met by–″ He was cut off when the partridge on his shoulder swung around and flapped its tail across his face. He frowned, spun the bird back around, and began to speak again.

This time the bird nipped his ear.

“Fuck!” he shouted in pain, which of course was mimicked loudly by Abby at the other end of the table.

“You dolt!” Mum snapped. “Now, look what you’ve done!”

“Oi! It’s your blasted bird that bit me! Oi! It just did it again!”

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” Giggles erupted from the little girl as her daddies tried to shush her, and everyone had a good laugh.

Except Mum (“Don’t be so stupid! It’s not a real bird, ya numpty!”); and the Doctor, who glowered at Mum but (remarkably) held his tongue.

“Mum,” I hissed at her, “it bit him. I saw it.”

“Bit him? Stuff and nonsense!”

The Doctor shook his head at me, and at his telepathic request, I decided not to pursue it any further.

Abby had calmed down again, her new word forgotten as quickly as it had come, and normal conversation resumed around the table as the main course was served. It wasn’t long before the Doctor had dived into a conversation about the most current medical breakthroughs with Gray and with Hrau-Ard, who was apparently training as a physician as well. They bantered back and forth for a short time and then the Doctor launched into a long discourse about the benefits of some sort of medical scanner or other. About a minute in, the bird wheeled around, slapping him in the face with its tail once more, and another few seconds after that, it bit him again.

“Right! Ow! Again, you bloody– Ow!” He dug into his trouser pockets for his sonic, threatening the bird with it. “Now, we’ll sort– Blimey! STOP! Ow!”

I glanced over at Mum who was chuckling away to herself, while everyone else was up, getting ready to help the Doctor. Oh, she knew exactly what was going on. And I had no doubt she had orchestrated it.

Hrau-Ard had stood up and was holding the bird still, his tentacled appendages wrapped around it securely. He was doing a great job keeping it from pecking at the Doctor’s ear, which seemed to happen every time he tried to talk.

Mum scoffed next to me. “Talks far too much, anyway, that one. Maybe this will teach ‘im to keep quiet and not monopolize the conversation.”

“So, this was you, then? How the hell did you...?”

“Oh, sweetheart, it only goes off when ‘e natters on for too long. It resets again after ‘e’s given our ears a bit of a break.”

“But…”

“Oh, I know a few of the folks down in Tech. They were quite ‘appy to do me a little favour, especially after ‘imself barged in there a month or so back and told ‘em they were sequencin’ somethin’-or-other all wrong.”

“He told me about that. It was all wrong!”

“Well, seems they didn’t like ‘is tone… all ‘igh and mighty and ‘I’m so clever’.”

I flopped back in my chair, and just shook my head. I returned my attention to the other side of the table where the Doctor had adjusted the settings on his sonic and was brandishing it at the animatronic bird.

“Oi,” Mum yelped, “don’t you damage my bird.”

“Priorities, Jackie! Your bloody bird is trying to damage me. Do you realize how hard I had to concentrate to get these ears… not to mention this hair?”

“It is really great hair,” I agreed.

“Oh, shush you!” Mum shot me a scathing look.

“Right then! Allons-y!” Heedless of my mum’s protests, the Doctor activated the screwdriver pointing it at his feathered attacker, and several things happened all at once.

The strangest screeching sound reverberated from Hrau-Ard’s crests in harmonics that mimicked the sonic. He lost his grip on the bird and doubled over, two of his appendages flying to his crests. “This tickles! This tickles! I think I am about to…”

The bird, freed from it’s confines, resumed its attack on the Doctor’s ear, feathers flying everywhere. The Doctor, fumbled his sonic screwdriver, caught it again, and made a quick adjustment to the frequency, constantly yammering and threatening the bird and Mum, not quite making the connection that if he just shut up, the stupid thing would stop pecking him. Finally finding an opening, he pressed the tip of the sonic to the bird’s breast, activating it with a triumphant “Ha!”

Hrau-Ard had resumed his composure once the sonic had stopped but started making that bizarre sound from his crests again once it was reactivated. His facial filaments were absolutely trembling. “It is happening again. I am going to… I am going to…″

The sound seemed to amplify the effects of the sonic. The hapless partridge stopped its attack, but its entire body began to pulse as the wailing hoots from Hrau-Ard’s crest intensified. Everyone was covering their ears, except the Doctor who had turned off the sonic, and was watching in horror, from the corner of his eye, the ominous pulsing of the bird on his left shoulder.

“I am going to–″ Hrau-Ard shouted, and his crests shrieked in a final eruption of noise, and the bird’s body suddenly exploded with a massive blast, sending feathers, sparks, and electronic gizmos everywhere.

“–sneeze,” Hrau-Ard hooted into the silence that had fallen over us all.

A long moment later, just as everyone was catching their collective breath, the Doctor yelped, as cinders from the explosion caught in his hair, causing it to smoulder and burn. “Ow, ow, ow! Blimey! My face! My hair!”

Abby started howling; everyone started shouting; I leaped across the top of the table to get to my poor husband; and Gray, the only one maintaining his composure, picked up a pitcher of ice water and dumped it over the Doctor’s head.

The Doctor sat there, completely stunned, as water dripped from his fringe into his face.

“Oh my God! Doctor!” I pulled his damp body against me, hugging him tight. “Are you all right?” I pulled back from the hug to look him in the face. I took in the angry red welts, the burned hair and…

He must have seen my astonishment. “What? What is it?”

“Your… your left eyebrow. It’s… it’s gone…”

“What? What?” His fingers flew to his brow, where the hair had been singed away. “WHAT?”

“And some of your hair… just up the left side…”

“Jackie Tyler!” he bellowed. He made to get up from his chair, but Gray shoved him back into it.

“Sit still! You have burns. I’ll need to use the dermal regenerator on them.”

“It won’t bring back my eyebrow, though, will it? My left eyebrow too. It’s my most expressive one,” he added wistfully.

Mum had come rushing around the table. “Oh, sweetheart, I’m so sorry! That wasn’t supposed to happen. I’ll cut your hair for ya, real nice. And your eyebrow will grow back again in no time, I expect.”

“Yeah, I suppose it will,” he said relaxing a bit. “And more expressive than ever! Makes you think, what would I ever do without eyebrows?” He shuddered at the thought. “And, Jackie, I have to admit, you couldn’t have known that the sonic would resonate with Hrau-Ard’s crests and make the bird explode like that. Though, I have to say, good riddance!”

“It is all my fault. I must apologize profusely,” Hrau-Ard hooted, his wings fluttering.

Mum protested, “Oh, no, Howard!”

“Nah, she’s right, Hrau-Ard,” the Doctor reassured him, “don’t be silly! But now I know not to use my sonic at that frequency in your presence.” He beamed. “Besides, what fun would Christmas be without a little bit of unexpected excitement?”

“At least there aren’t any blinkin’ killer Christmas trees, yeah?” Mum pointed out, as Gray finished up with the dermal regenerator.

“Oh yes! Too true. Looking on the bright side, Jackie. Do it while you can, because you know what…?” He bounded out of his chair, tore the remnants of the hapless partridge from his shoulder, and plucked the Santa hat from Dad’s head. He shoved it over his wet, scorched hair and with a wicked grin spreading over his face, he sang: “Jackie Tyler… you better watch out, you better not cry, you better not pout. I’m telling you why: Santa Claus is coming to town.”

Oh, God, Santa, the look on Mum’s face. “Oh, you wouldn’t dare…”

“And Santa isn’t happy, Jackie. Really, you better watch out…” He skipped away out of the dining room, heading directly for the kitchen.

Mum took off after him. “You stay away from my appliances. You’re a bleedin’ hellion, you are,” she shouted.

Hrau-Ard honked in alarm and pulled Charlie next to him, wrapping his tentacles around her.

“Don’t worry, love,” Charlie sounded resigned, “you get used to it once you’ve been around this crowd long enough. We’re all a bit mental, but we all love one another.”

So, there it is, Santa. A typical Tyler-Noble Christmas!

I spent quite a while trying to intercept the Doctor before he did any damage to Mum’s kitchen... and other things. I actually found him mucking about in her en suite. Not sure if he managed to do anything before I caught up to him and got him back home, but at least I got to him before Mum did. Like I said before, he looks far too pleased with himself, despite the missing eyebrow and the singed hair. He must have left some sort of surprise behind for Mum. No doubt I’ll hear about it soon enough.

And right now, I’m just waiting for him to “return the favour” he promised me in Mum’s powder room earlier, something about making me scream so loud I’d be heard all the way to Gallifrey. He’s just spending an awful long time in the loo... probably trying out my eyebrow pencils, if I know him. Maybe later I’ll take the TARDIS out, go back a few days, and get him some of his own for his stocking before everyone gets up tomorrow morning.

Happy Christmas, Santa. Give my love to all. Sorry for going off on a bit of a tangent earlier. I was just lying here, waiting for the Doctor and thinking… Oh, I reckon you’re used to it by now, yeah. There’ve been a few tangents over the years and I haven’t had a lump of coal yet. But, just saying, if you feel the urge to leave a lump of coal in the Doctor’s and my mum’s stockings, by all means, go right ahead! I’m all for it!

Love, Rose

#doctorroseprompts #kidfic #tentoo x rose #christmas fic #extreme silliness #fluff #family #hurt/comfort #ficandchips #tenroseforeverandever's fic

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dwardjspring · 3 years ago

Text

Dave Garland. R.I.P

It was a Sunday Morning in New Zealand. I woke to messages from Mirka and Viv and I couldn’t believe what they said. No… That couldn’t be. I couldn’t really believe what they said. I chose to push it aside and went for my normal Sunday morning swim in the lake, with the club. I was out for over an hour and a quarter. Long swim. People were wondering where I’d gone. And all I could think about was Dave the whole time out there, the water flowing around me like moving through time and memories.

Since then I’ve read online in the MTB press and various pages and peoples posts of Dave's passing. The word ’legend’ is often used and I think apt in the world of mountain bike suspension tuning and DH race set up. It’s fair to say he knew everything there was to know and more importantly, how to deliver it effectively. ‘Mercurial’ would be another fair use word of his knowledge in that dark art.

Dave left behind his wife Mirka. They had been married 4 years or so. Not long. And his daughter Niva. Now 21.

I read Niva’s post on her Facebook timeline later that same Sunday morning - of her feelings for her Dad and how she could have acted differently towards him.

There have been a number of eulogies for Dave, particularly this one by Si Paton, but so too, I want to say something from myself about my good friend Dave. This is my story of Dave. Written from my perspective. I’ve written it because I need to write it.

Dave arrived into my life in 1999 brought into Grip DH Mountain Bike magazine prior to Issue One whilst we were still in the planning stage by Editor Jerry Dyer, whom I’d headhunted from Dirt Magazine. Jerry ‘HAD’ to have a technical editor and Dave was it. So I hired him, not that I think I had any say in the matter! Those were fantastic days at the Air Publications office in the middle of Worcester. We had a real buzz going with all the magazines functioning out of that top floor on Trinity Street. Viv Jenkins, whom I had known since 1990, or even a little earlier, through snowboarding, arrived at the offices not long after Dave, rustled up by Ad Manager Wendy as she needed more help in the advertising department, what with five publications pumping. Dave and Viv took a shine to each other. They both had a BMX background. On a night out on The Shambles with the whole crew in tow Dave and Viv hooked up. That very first connection, on that particular night resulted in Niva nine months later. It was as simple as that. A one time moment with an ongoing expected commitment once the pregnancy became clear, which I don’t think Dave or Viv were really ready for.

It turned out to be a tumultuous time for all of us at Air Publications because over that next nine months a great deal happened. Dave and Viv ended up living in our house for about a month. They’d given up their house with other Air Pub staffers and they were working for free as we were trying to find a buyer for the publishing business as it had hit some rocky ground. We thought we could rescue the business, but we couldn’t. The short version was the breakdown of Air Publications, the loss of all our jobs and the dissipation of a lot of action sports potential. But that’s another story…

Dave was particular. He was a details sort of guy. When Grip was doing studio photo shoots of the DH bikes, everything had to be perfect. The backdrop, the lighting, the bike and its arrangement (of course). But I mean perfect. He created the studio in a grimy area downstairs, which we weren’t actually renting but it was a forgotten area, doing nothing, so he and Jerry commandeered it. Dave made me buy all the backdrops and lighting equipment, because of course it had to be perfect. The photographer we ‘HAD’ to use (Jerry Dyer catch phrase), Paul Bliss, also had to deliver, which he always did anyway being just as particular as Dave. The outcome of all that perfection and graphic design deliberation over minutiae was Grip DH Mountain Bike magazine. You may not have even heard of it as we only managed three issues. Dave wrote, but writing was not his forté, but the content of what he was writing was standout. It was different. It elevated the magazine. He just needed some editing help. He had the vision on where DH MTB should go from where it was at that time, and he was every bit the magazine editor alongside Jerry. Grip eclipsed Dirt magazine, the established market leader for DH at the time, and between ‘them’ and ‘us’ there was a fair bit of rivalry. Funnily enough, after Grip folded, Dirt started to take on the look and feel Grip had crafted and the direction the industry needed to move towards. Dave had every part in that.

Dave and Viv had to make decisions and for them it involved moving to Chamonix in France to be in the heart of the European snowboard scene but importantly for Dave, a blossoming mountain bike community over the summer months. They went there to make a go of it, prior to the birth of their baby, because they really did love each other. Dave started at Zero G shop and started increasing the bike activity angle of the store.

Niva famously arrived early on the 1st January 2000, the first child of the new millennium to be born in Chamonix, France. One of life's little surprises that has always stuck with me. But it was hard for them both - Dave and Viv. No family around, little support in a foreign land, a language barrier, struggling to get by financially. He worked hard. And did long hours. Very long hours. I talked a lot with him regularly, visited the store a few times and the small flat in Cham where they lived. In 2000 I was also coincidentally working in France for Regis Rolland at A Snowboards. Dave told me things weren’t particularly good between him and Viv because of all these life pressures. I think he spent so long at the store as an escape. But Viv, now with a baby to take care of, was finding it harder. Isolated, no money, no Dave who was off ‘promoting’ the store, you know, having beers, shooting shit with the boys, riding bikes. Well, he just was not around...

One day towards the end of summer in 2000 from recollection, Dave got back from being away at a race, went home to their tiny flat to find Viv and Niva were gone. Gone. Nothing there. The place was empty. Everything was gone. They’d up and left. I don’t know the exact details here but Viv had taken Niva and left back to Liverpool.

That day or the very next day I just so happened to be collecting my bag from the Geneva airport arrivals carousel. There's about six carousels all laid out in a row. One of the end walls is entirely made of glass so people waiting in the arrivals hall on land side can see the incoming people fresh off their flight getting their bags. I was waiting, looking out through the glass looking for my pick up, and there was Dave looking right at me! I don’t know who was more surprised, me or him, but I quickly saw he was distraught. He told me what had happened. He had driven to Geneva to pick up his brother or relation, or maybe it was his mum, I can’t remember now, but he was not in a good way. We made a bunch of phone calls on my phone to people back in the UK trying to track Viv down, to find out where Viv may have gone. Dave didn’t know what to do, or what to do with himself. He was pacing around backwards and forwards in worry and frustration and a sort of anger. He realised he’d fucked up. He told me that.

Very soon after, Dave moved back to the UK to Chester in an effort to be close to Viv and his baby daughter Niva. He was making the effort. He’d packed it all in at the shop and left behind all that he had been trying to do. That was not the actions of a man who didn’t care. And from this period, with Dave back in the UK in Chester, with his estranged partner and daughter Niva not far away in Liverpool, this was when Stendec was born. Dave and I started Stendec together.

Dave had realised and understood that mountain bike suspension servicing and tuning was fast becoming ‘a thing’. And that it was only going to grow. His knowledge of this thing was from ‘source’. He seemed to have the source code, the alchemist's stone, from which all knowledge derived to put it in a way you may understand. He had the Gold. The know-how to turn lead into gold. He just ‘knew’ what to do with suspension. But he needed help with the set up, the creation of the company, the accounts, the finance, the day to day boring systems in order for Stendec to function. That was my role.

Do you know where the word Stendec came from? It was the last message sent by an aeroplane as it was flying over the Andes at the end of the 1940’s through thick clouds before it crashed into a mountainside. The morse code message was S.T.E.N.D.E.C. No one knows what it meant. There are conspiracy theories based on it. But essentially no one knows what it meant because it doesn’t mean anything. It could be anything we needed it to be. Dave had been mulling it over for ages, the name, and he loved the whole story behind that word, so that’s what it was. He came up with that name for the company.

In fact he loved coming up with words to describe a new product. ‘Black Box Technology’, ‘Tuning in a Box’, ‘The Shock Footprint’. He helped me with names for the A Snowboards 2001/02 range I was working on. He really wanted me to call one of the boards ‘The Vocoder’ - “voice code your ride”. He very nearly got his wish.

We had a small industrial unit upstairs in a building very close to Chester town centre. Dave signed for it at the end of March 2001. We’d go for sandwiches round the corner at lunch time. For a cider or beer or two (or four) after work. I’d drive up from Worcester for two or three days each week in my Citroen BX Turbo. It blew up on one occasion leaving me limping off the motorway. I can’t remember any more but I think I gave the car to him when I left for New Zealand. We’d plan the business, we’d work out what the race season was going to be and plan to be at as many races as possible. Pagey would drop by. So funny. Products were created talking in the workshop, drinking our cider/beers. The range of exclusive oils, the brake fluids, the silicon spray, the grease, the springs. That all came from Dave, he did all the sourcing work, and with the oils for instance, got the oil chemist to come up with a slightly different concoction to Dave’s requirements. Back then there were, like, ten different oil weights we needed, and each of them could be combined to create mid weight oils to be perfect in the forks and shocks. The marketing words around it all came from me, and we had the special genius of Ian Roxburgh as the packaging and logo designer. Ian was the long time senior graphic designer on all of the magazines of Air publications. I remember Dave saying we needed to make springs, so we went off on a factory visit to the spring factory in Birmingham he’d found watching them being made. Coiled, heated, tempered, the ends ground, the Stendec logo printed on the coil of each spring... It was all expensive, all those products. I don’t know if we really made any money, but hell, it was a fantastic brand all backed up by Daves race knowledge and ‘source’ code. It all added to the whole. It was greater than the sum of its parts that’s for sure. The springs eventually ended up being produced by Eibach and Dave even found a supplier of the elusive Titanium Spring. So cool.

Dave's knowledge was as much a hindrance as a benefit. When I was up in Chester in the workshop I was supposed to answer the phone to allow Dave the time to actually service the forks and shocks before dispatching them back out the door. But of course the phone would go and nobody wanted to talk with me, because one, they didn’t know who I was and two, I didn’t know shit (well, not the correct shit), they just wanted to talk with Dave. The true fountain of knowledge. So we quickly found we needed systems to allow Dave to work and talk.

During all this, Dave connected with Giant Bikes and proposed to them that Stendec be awarded the contract to run the Giant Bikes Dealer Demo program, and through that we had our first employee, Pete Crump. It was a fairly crammed itinerary and Pete would be up and down the country in a very big van demo-ing Giant Bikes to the shops of the UK. That happened for two or three years I think. And Michelin tyres. So many tyres, oh my god ...

I had by this time, March 2002, moved to New Zealand to live with my wife of the time, one daughter and a baby boy, but during the first five years of living in NZ I’d be back to the UK so much, still working in the snowboard industry and going to stay with Dave. I was practically commuting. Dave had moved to North Wales and bought the farmhouse based off the back of the ‘business’, but to be honest I don’t know how he managed to pull that off as there was barely enough to feed Dave let alone a mortgage. I certainly didn’t see any return of my startup funds. Through this period, which I think was a tough time mentally for Dave, it seemed a little hand to mouth for him at times. I was not on the scene any more for day to day contact.

Dave didn’t know where Niva was or what she was doing. Not really. He really dropped out of her life. I don’t know if that was because he just couldn’t be bothered or it was simply too difficult for him. Things just stacked against him as a man and a father. He wasn’t good at providing financial support. Not really. I saw that. Viv picked that up, but too, the impression I got from Dave was Viv didn’t make it easy for him to see Niva. There were a lot of road blocks put in place. I know there are two sides to every story and I don’t know Viv’s story I admit. I only know what Dave told me and he could be, at times, frugal with the full story. But from my own subsequent experience it seemed hard for Dave to see his daughter. I felt Dave wasn’t trying very hard anymore to make an effort. But I sort of think he gave up trying because it was simply too hard for him because of the external circumstances. I have gaps of time where I am not aware of what may or may not have occurred between the three of them as Niva grew older and into a young woman. But overall I never really fully understood that. I’m sorry. I cannot judge.

As I read on Niva’s Facebook post on the day Dave died, and as Niva’s mothers friend so wisely stated in one of the replies, all Niva’s disclosures were not about her own failings. Niva did nothing wrong. The parents' difficulties were not about her. It was the way the dice rolled for her. It's easy to have perfect vision looking backward about what you should have / could have done, about decisions you could have made, about a relationship you could have had. As Niva said, her future dreams, those she thought she would enjoy at some point in the future with her dad, it turns out were nothing other than fantasy. They will never be. A tough but realistic observation on her part, I thought, when I read it. When Niva was about 13 or so, I remember how things were from Dave's perspective and how he relayed it to me, things were not so good between himself and Niva through that adolescent period. Again, I know he did try but I think over that period, although he had made some headway with Niva, it went slightly awry. So subsequently, I think he gave up even trying to try. That’s my own personal observation.

Dave came out to NZ with his friend Kellie in 2004 or so. They stayed for a few days on a big country wide tour. Again, we had lots of discussions but eventually, over the fullness of time (one of Dave’s favourite sayings), we just slowed down our talks. We talked less and less over the years, a function of being out of sight, thus out of mind. I watched as the Stendec brand became Dave’s vehicle. Even though technically it was 50% mine, really it was all Dave’s. I was his initial helping hand. Watching Dave from the other side of the world via RedBull TV, I’d watch all the World Cup DH’s religiously. I’d see Dave doing what he did so well, spannering for household names now - to make them household names, and felt real pride to see him at that level. That's where he was meant to be.

I was surprised when I saw Dave got married! I didn’t know he was seeing anyone. I didn’t ask as to why. It was a slightly grey period when I was not up to play on what was what. Friend Kellie just wasn’t around any more. Mirka appeared out of nowhere, it seemed, but too, she really seemed to have brightened his day. Mirka gave Dave some zest again. I saw it written large through the ether. I could feel it. The evolution of the springs into the standalone brand Super Alloy Racing and how Mirka deals with that has been tremendous to watch at a high level, primarily through the Enduro World Series. And then equally it seemed, out of nowhere, Dave created Stendec Data Acquisition. I just thought ‘brilliant’. What a thing to do. Such a lot of detail and thought and understanding had to go into that creation and Dave could see too, as he always did, that it had to be relevant to the biker in the street. I was surprised to see it, but at the same time, not surprised at all it had come out of Dave's brain. Of course it did.

I think Dave was a real character of a person. A strong driver within his art. The term ‘artist’ I think would also be a fair label for him. One of a kind. Generous. Knowledgeable. But so too, flawed like we all are to some extent. He thought long and hard about it all. Just a tiny bit broken, not quite complete - Niva was always there but not there. I don’t think that ever sat well with him. Dave was really hit by not being able to see his daughter properly over the years, right back from that initial shock departure, and he really cared, and I think it's important for Niva to read and hear this from someone who spent time with him, just how much he did care. Though he wasn't the best perhaps at showing it, or trying to reach out.

I feel too I missed the boat in talking more with Dave these past years. He was hard to get a hold of especially with his non-compliance of social media and stuff, but we both could have tried harder. I certainly could have. Now it's too late. I’m sad about that. There’s still things to do and talks I still wanted to have with Dave. I feel some responsibility for not doing it. There’s a lesson there for us all.

Dave Garland - 1967 - Nov 28th 2020 - Rest in Peace

Top photo: Dave featured on a poster in the centre of the first Stendec catalog. He was a pretty handy rider.

Addendum:

I found this whilst hunting… The last paragraph says a lot about Dave’s support for his riders and friends riding.

-----Original Message-----

From: Dave. Garland [mailto:[email protected]]

Sent: 14 February 2003 20:54

To: [email protected]

Subject: madison stuff

Hi Rob here's the list of stuff we could really do with to help the season along.

10x Mavic 521 32h cd

4x mavic 321 32h cd

5x dura ace ss rear mechs

5x ultegra 12-27 9speed cassettes

4x DT swiss blk comp spokes 258

6x DT swiss blk comp spokes 260

2x DT swiss blk comp spokes 262

4x xt 9speed rh shifters

2x sp40 gear housing

20x teflon gear inner wire

that's it. its about £500 worth

I got the new crowns and they look the bollox, Romic's sending full factory

shocks in about two weeks.

CALENDER.

STENDEC/MICHELIN SUPER SERIES; MARCH 29/30

DRAGON RD 1/2 APRIL5/6

SDA RND 1 12/13 APRIL

MAXXIS CUP RND2 23-27 APRIL

NPS RND1 3 / 4

SDA RND2 10/11 MAY

NPS2 24/25 MAY

WC RND1 29MAY-2ND JUNE

WC RND2 10-13 JUNE

NPS RND3 21/22 JUNE

SDA CHAMPS 4-6 JULY FORT WILL

DRAGON 8/9 9/10 AUG

NPS NAT CHAMPS 25-27 JULY

STENDEC/MICH 2/3 AUG BALA LAKE NWALES

NPSRND 4 16/17 AUG

EURO CHAMPS 21-24 AUG

WORLDS LAGANO 4-7 SEPT

WC 5 11-14 SEPT

NPS 5 20/21 SEPT

DRAGON 12/13 4/5 OCT

THIS IS THE TIME TABLE.

I know it might seem alot but as you know we got things at stake this year, Ian is looking for big things this year, from you especialy. I will give you support like you aint seen, just give a 100% back and we'll go places. for you i think you have to get used to winning races again, dont matter what series it is A WIN IS A WIN and when you get used to winning you want to win everything.

We have the strongest team in briton this year and the best supported so everyone's gotta pull their weight.

speak soon

Dave

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the-expendableconcubine · 7 years ago

Note

Do you personally think that Will was seen as the expendable one by Helen?

;; okay, let me preface this by saying two things. uno - i’m probs going to contradict myself a million times answering this BUT i’ll try to get it to make as much sense as possible. annnd dos - THIS MADE ME ALL FEELSY, OK?

okay so i don’t think expendable is the most apt word in regards to will but i do think there’s an element of it. now that’s not exactly a yes or a not but let me explain what i think.

i don’t think will’s position in the sanctuary has ever been a nonchalant appointment, in fact we KNOW it wasn’t. helen pretty much had this in the pipeline since he was 8 when his mum died, all will had to do was to say yes when the time came. and i think for will, he knows his place at the sanctuary is hugely valued. i think the will’s confidence in knowing he belonged at the sanctuary really came into fruition in season 2; there was no longer the pull of the outside world and his old life, and he knew was he was doing at the sanctuary. and he knew his place there was more than just being a psychiatrist. he was helen’s second in command, they both knew that, but he was her rock. her emotional compass. and she needs him. again, they both kind of know that. so in terms of his value and worth at the sanctuary, that’s not taken for granted by either of them in my own opinion.

however, i do think there’s an air of expendability around will. i’m also cautious to use expendable but i think it’s the way to go. there are a couple of things that don’t sit comfortably with me and, in all honesty, it’s something I’ve felt from the first time i watched sanctuary. let me explain a couple of those things:

1) season 2, episode 1 - end of nights: part 1: nikola says to will “one thing at a time, dr expendable.” BUT THAT’S NIKOLA WHO SAYS IT, THAT DOESN’T COUNT, RIGHT?! that’s not my point. my point is the reaction that line gets. nikola says it, will looks at helen, helen looks away from will, and then she gives her instructions to henry about staying in radio contact. now i wholeheartedly agree that in that moment helen has got much more important things to be doing than sparing will’s feelings, but you know what would’ve been nice? just some kind of acknowledgement from helen. helen is incredibly tactile. it’s one of her biggest feats, so even just a small touch of his arm or a nod or something would’ve been nice, especially considering they were literally moments away from heading into something dangerous.

2) season 4, episode 11 - the depths: will says “i’m sick of being the expendable human on the ticket.” now now now. i totally get it. it’s not exactly fair to take things that were said from that episode because the water was responsible for lots of things which were said. but that line from will, regardless of effects he’s feeling from the water, has to come from somewhere, right? a bit like in season 1 in requiem - i really think that a lot of what helen said must’ve pre-existed somewhere, even if it was in the darkest part of her subconscious that she wasn’t even aware about. it came from somewhere. and i think there was a small element of that in the depths, too. so will saying he’s the expendable human? he’s been carrying that since season 1. and, y’know, maybe that stemmed from nikola calling him dr expendable in end of nights and helen never acknowledging it. i don’t know. but will saying that didn’t sit right with me again. and we all know he was an asshat in the depths, but that line REALLY made me feel for him.

those are just two examples. but that doesn’t mean i think that helen thinks will’s expendable! (here comes the contradicting part). helen needs will. she absolutely, undeniably does. and she needs him more and more as time goes on, and i don’t think helen could bare the thought of losing will. if he’s in danger or his life‘s at risk, helen does everything possible to save him - even risking her own life on occasion. examples?

1) season 2/3 - the kali episodes: even though the makri leaves will, helen is abundantly clear about not giving up on him. she pretty much ask him to die, he agrees and says about how he‘s dead anyway, what’s the point in coming back. and helen makes it clear she’s not giving up on him that easily. if she thought he was so expendable? she’d have agreed and he’d have stayed dead.

2) season 3, episode 14 - metamorphosis: do i really need to explain? helen is pretty much the only one who doesn’t give up on will when he’s chaning/changes into an abnormal. she works endlessly to try and find something to save him, and even when will escapes she makes it clear that they’re to use tranqs only on him unless absolutely necessary. again, if he was that expendable, she wouldn’t have done that.

3) season 4, episode 11 - the depths: how can this episode make it on both sides of the argument? easy! will’s dying. in fact, he really should’ve died. he even tells helen to go. to leave without him. and helen’s injured, too. she’s really bloody injured and will tells her to just leave him behind and save herself. because, hey, there’s no point in them both dying down there, right? right. but helen being helen, she won’t leave him behind. she won’t leave him to die. because she needs him. she so needs him. and she knows that. so helen? risks her life. she goes back for more water. she was too weak herself to make that journey, that journey should’ve have happened, and even will said she’d never make it. but helen wouldn’t give up on will. so she does it. and she succeeds. she saves him, she lives too. they both survive because of her. it would’ve been easy for her to realise she could save herself quicker if she left him behind, but she doesn’t.

4) season 4, episode 12/13 - sanctuary for none: how important was will to helen? throughout the a large portion of season 4 (especially the last few episodes), helen pushes will away. why? because helen will do anything to ensure his safety and his happiness, even if it means sacrificing their friendship. that’s what she does. pure and simple. it needs no further explanation.

so do i think helen see’s will as expendable? i still haven’t really answered the question. but i do have a few more things to say (and this might be somewhat controversial, but that’s okay, it’s my opinion). scenario: if helen was presented with a situation in which she had to save two out of three people, and those three people were henry, will, and nikola, who do i think she’d save? henry, most definitely, as the first. henry is like a son to her and saving him would be an absolute necessity. the second person she’d save? i’d like to think it’d be will, i really do, but i think it’d be nikola. i think it’s that thing of sentiment, and not wanting to be the last of the five. and nikola is so deeply rooted in her history that i do think she’d pick him. that doesn’t mean she doesn’t care about will. i think that she cares about will in a way that she hasn’t cared about anyone for a long time. and also, she can’t stand to be without him, but that’s where my thoughts are at. if they were romantically involved? different scenario. but for the sake of canon, that’s where i’m at.

#;; ooc tag #{ fuck me so help me }#{ this is super long and I could go on for hours longer BUT }#{ my emotions trying to put my thought down are all over the place and }#{ wow }#{ also can will have a hug pls pls from anyone he just needs a hug }

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agentverbivore · 7 years ago

Note

Channukah prompts: I would love to see homesick FitzSimmons bonding over Channukah at the Academy (preferably platonic at this stage in their relationship), or a really competitive dreidel game!

thank you for sending this! inspired by @buckysbears’ Chanukah headcanons/prompts.this is the second of my Chanukah ficlet trio. (the 3rd won’t come out for another few days, since I haven’t started writing it yet.) Happy Festival of Lights!Rated G. Canon-compliant Academy era FitzSimmons, followed by a scene in the future. CW for mentions of Fitz’s father. AO3.

Although Jemma knew that Fitz didn’t like heavily populated social gatherings at the best of times, it continued to flummox her as to exactly why. Furthermore, he was even grumpier about them around Jewish holidays so far as she could tell, even though he professed to enjoy their traditions. How he could like the traditions but not the celebration confused her even further.

It was the end of their third semester at the Academy, and she was mulling this contradiction in her best friend over during their second Chanukah celebration at the Jewish Student Union. Watching him scowl as one of the party’s organizers handed him a yarmulke had renewed her curiosity about the matter. For her part, Jemma was in high spirits – they had another two weeks before the Academy closed for winter break (dictated as it was by the Christian holidays), which meant that she could enjoy tonight’s festivities without feeling guilty about wasting time that should otherwise be spent studying.

Once Fitz had the yarmulke settled on his head, she nudged him about his grumpiness and he gave her a weak smile. As the evening went on, they were both distracted by food and games and the other customary activities associated with Chanukah parties worldwide. But when they went to put on their coats before leaving, Jemma noticed Fitz drop his yarmulke into the provided basket as if the small piece of cloth had burned him. Letting out a low huff as she followed him out through the door, she decided that she was going to settle once and for all why Fitz became a Yehudi Grinch at every JSU event.

“Fitz,” she said determinedly, hopping up alongside him on the path through the quad. With the winter chill in the air, most students were inside at this time of night, providing them a more-or-less private walk in the direction of the freshman dorms. “Why don’t you like going to JSU?”

He gave her a funny look, digging his hands deeper into his coat pockets. “What? I like JSU.”

“No, you don’t,” she retorted.

“I wouldn’t go if I didn’t like it,” he argued, elbowing her in lieu of waving his hands in indignation. “I mean, their Chanukah party last year’s one of the first things we hung out at, other than chem lab. Went on my own.”

“Then why do you act like that every time we go to one?”

“Act like what?” Jemma scrunched her face into an exaggerated but apt impression of Fitz’s frown, and he made a noise of disgust. “I don’t look like that!”

“You do, every time we walk through the door!” A flash of understanding passed over his face, and he turned so that he was facing forward on the path as they walked. “What?”

“No, nothing,” he said too quickly, and she let out a frustrated groan.

“Fitz, come on,” she tried again, tugging hesitantly at the edge of his coat sleeve. “What is it?”

He let out a low huff, a cloud of air billowing out of his mouth in the night’s chill, and for a few seconds, Jemma thought he was just going to flat-out ignore her. But, at long last, he muttered an answer, dropping his gaze to the concrete beneath their respective trainers: “I don’t like yarmulkes.”

Jemma wrinkled her nose in skepticism. “Yarmulkes? Seriously?”

“Don’t like the way they look on me.”

Making a sharp noise of disagreement, she had to speed up to hold her friend’s stride. “You look fine in it, honestly. You’re being silly.”

Silence, again, stretched on between them, and she tried to think of what other questions with which she could pepper him to get at the truth of the matter. Instinct told her that there was something more to it. Before she could approach the subject from a different angle, however, Fitz spoke unprompted.

“My dad used to – said I looked like a clown in it. Half-pint clown, to be specific.” His voice was low and he was staring determinedly at his feet as they strode side by side, and suddenly Jemma felt wretched for having pressed him. Although her friend rarely spoke of the father who had left him when he was but ten years old, with every brief mention she hated the man a little more.

“That’s awful,” she whispered, tugging at the pocket of her purple peacoat. “Was… I mean, is he…?”

“Jewish?” He let out a low laugh. “Yeah. He’d be wearing a yarmulke, too. Didn’t stop him from insulting everyone he saw with one.”

Inhaling, she gave her head a slow shake. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, well.” Fitz shrugged, squinting up at the streetlamp beneath which they were passing. “So I don’t like yarmulkes. Mum stopped making me wear one when we celebrated at home, wish I didn’t have to here.”

Jemma pursed her lips, nibbling at the bottom one in thought. Although it was Fitz’s choice whether or not to wear a yarmulke, by and large, she did rather think it appropriate that he wore one when observing the more important Jewish holidays. Her own mildly agnostic feelings about religious beliefs aside, it just seemed proper to do so. Truly, Chanukah was not an important enough of a holiday for it to matter, she supposed, but on Rosh Hashanah it would feel rather disrespectful for him not to wear a yarmulke. These musings, however, she kept to herself, as her own relationship to her religion as a scientist was something she was still developing and cultivating.

“I think you look nice in a yarmulke,” she said quietly, sliding her eyes over to glance at him. “It fits nicely on your well-formed cranium.” Fitz burst out laughing, and she tried not to look affronted. “What? I mean it!”

“Thanks, Simmons,” he chortled, dodging when she tried to elbow him in the side in retaliation. “And a happy Chanukah to you, too.”

——

Jemma bounded through the front door, a padded manila envelope in one hand and a wide smile on her face. The whole apartment practically shone as she re-entered it from having checked their mail, having just finished hiding the last of the moving boxes in their bedroom. Tonight would be one part house-warming party and two parts Chanukah celebration, and between the two of them, she and Fitz had done an ample job of getting it ready in time. She had finished getting dressed for the party earlier than he, and had decided to make one last, fortuitously fruitful, run to the mailbox. With a new green and white patterned sweater and sea star necklace in place, Jemma felt both pretty and festive, and was very excited to welcome their friends into their new home. All she had left to do was finish the cookie and rugelach display – and deliver the mail she had just collected.

“Fitz!” she called out, locking the door behind her and heading towards the front hall closet. “The package from your mum finally arrived!” Instead of the enthusiasm she had expected, all she heard in response was muffled swearing coming from the general direction of their bedroom. Pausing with one hand a few inches away from the closet’s door handle, she wrinkled her nose. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” he barked, which was followed by an indistinct noise of triumph.

Giving her head an amused shake, Jemma continued her current task of fetching a screwdriver from the toolbox they had a few hours prior agreed to store beneath their hanging winter coats. About a minute or so later, her husband finally emerged from their bedroom, dropping his hand from where he had been affixing a yarmulke to his hair.

“Is that it?” Fitz asked needlessly, eyes lighting excitedly upon the manila envelope that she still held. Not quite waiting for her nod, he took it, quickly ripping the paper open and reaching for the wrapped package and note inside. “Came on the perfect night,” he said, giving her a grin as she closed up the closet and followed him to the dining room table.

“And not a day too soon,” she agreed, watching his eyes skim over his mother’s handwriting. “The thirty days are up next week.”

She noticed that his smile had softened, and reached for the card when he handed it to her. “It’s for you.”

Before she could actually read anything, Fitz slipped up along her side to wrap his arms sideways around her waist. Jemma tilted her head up to meet his gaze, and happily accepted the gentle kiss he pressed to her lips. A pleased hum slipped out of her as she pulled away, and she let him nuzzle against her cheek as she dropped her gaze to read, even with his now familiar scruff tickling slightly at her skin.

There was a note to Fitz at the top of the card – decorated on the front with a miniature, watercolor menorah – and then a second note beneath:

Jemma – May the light and love of the house you build with my son be as bright and warm as what shines from within you. This mezuzah brings the blessings you both deserve, and may it long serve as a remembrance of the love I hold for you. Chag Urim Sameach!

“We need to call her tomorrow,” she murmured, dabbing at her eyes with her free hand.

“Yeah, before work.” Fitz held out the small package that he had finished unwrapping as she read: An intricately carved, metal cylinder, flat on one side and about four inches in length. “Should have time to put it up before everyone arrives, too.”

“I thought so,” she said, craning her head back to smile up at him. Without thinking, she reached up to trace alongside the edge of the yarmulke, her fingers feathering through the short curls that puffed up around it.

“What?” Discomfort flashed across his expression, and she turned so that they were hugging each other from a more direct angle, allowing her fingers to trail down over his scruffy cheek.

“I’m glad you’re wearing it,” she said quietly, trying to imbue her expression and voice with the happiness and affection she felt for him. “The yarmulke.”

“Oh.” He shrugged self-consciously, tightening his grip around her waist. “Yeah, y’know, thought it’d right. First Chanukah party in the apartment and all.”

“You look perfect.” Jemma stretched up for another kiss, giggling slightly when he tried to deepen it.

“That’s just rude,” he grumbled, and she gave his cheek a quick peck before disentangling herself from his embrace. “We’ve talked about laughing when I kiss you before –”

“They’ll be here at any second.” She pointed to the screwdriver she had taken out for him, and he reached for it. “And I have to finish putting out the desserts.”

When Fitz opened the door, they were both greeted by the distinct sound of someone’s singing echoing down the long hallway towards their corner apartment. Jemma could just barely make out the words “dreidel, dreidel, dreidel” to the tune of a Justin Bieber song before her husband burst out laughing.

“I think that’s the sound of Daisy and Trip arriving,” Fitz chuckled, reaching over to put the mezuzah and screwdriver on the entryway table. “We can do this later.”

“Agreed,” she answered, reaching for the dessert plates.

As Jemma watched Fitz greet their friends, yarmulke worn proudly on his head, she was struck by a sudden sense of pride, both in him and in the life that they were about to embark upon together.

[Other ficlets.] [AO3.]

#FitzSimmons #Agents of SHIELD #fsfic #fstag #thefitzsimmonsnetwork #theclaravoyant #Verbivore writes #minifics #Chanukah #holidays #fanfiction #I hope you like this! as promised - platonic academy and romantic future :-)#(I just needed to write the smush - and also it could've been so much more tooth rotting but I tried to control myself)#also let's listen to the lyrics and think about how FS they are #''I love you better - when I win'' - have you ever heard anything more jemma in your life?#anyway we'll get to dreidels in the next ficlet!!#and also yeah there's that hint of tripskye because I am RELENTLESS #triplives yo

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