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loupettes · 4 years ago

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Some Ten/Rose domestic fluff for the DoctorRose Fic Marathon, mostly to soothe my mental health but who doesn’t need more Ten/Rose in their lives?

T W E N T Y O N E

SUMMARY: Ten/Rose. It's Rose's twenty-first birthday, and she's invited the Doctor along to a party thrown by her mum. A night of pub celebrations, boisterous friends and family gatherings, quizzes, a little bit of jealousy and some hard truths ahead, the Doctor must grit and bear the domesticity for his best friend — well, the love of his life. If only there was something to make it worthwhile..

TAGS: fluff, domestic, romance, jealousy, pub quizzes, everyone loves Rose Tyler (the Doctor being top of that list), mutual pining, longing, etc etc

Read on AO3: twenty one

***

“See you’ve found a way to pass the time,” she muttered once Laura was out of earshot, slipping her arm out from his and grabbing the napkin from the bar. She looked at it distacefully for a moment, before she passed the napkin to him.

“Enduring terrible flirting and being come on to is just one of the many things I’m voluntarily subjecting myself to to be here with you tonight.”

“How hard that must be for you.”

He couldn’t put his finger on why, exactly, she seemed irritated, and when Laura put the drink in front of her and begrudgingly took the tenner from the Doctor, Rose seemed to only sadden as she swirled her straw around in her drink.

“Just didn’t think you were interested in this sort of stuff, s’all,” she shrugged.

He frowned; he assumed she must have meant flirting. “I’m not.”

Rose looked at her drink for a moment, a pinch in her brow that he couldn’t translate. It wasn’t indifference, it wasn’t even the irritation she was projecting on her voice, but he wasn’t fond of it, he knew that much.

“Only got eyes for you, promise.”

***

It was one of those days, the ones he hadn’t really ever had to subject himself to in his many years of life, and he calls them ‘obligatory domestics’. The kinds of days where he needs to drop Rose off so she can do a bit of ‘life admin’: check in on her grandparents, nip to primark to get some basics, cash her birthday cheques, all that sort of stuff.

And then, of course, there were the days he needed to attend parties.

Now, he wasn’t a party person. Awkward small talk, terrible music — depending on the decade, of course — dreadful finger food, that annoying needless obligation to stay and ‘enjoy yourself’ when all you really wanted to do was leave. This was one of those days where Rose had a party to attend, and had asked him to just drop her off back at home for the night and they could get back to travelling the next day.

The problem was, it was her birthday party.

Now, if it were his birthday — if he even had a birthday — then he wouldn’t exactly call it a mark for celebration. Not even at the turn of a new century, and he most certainly wouldn’t call turning a thousand a celebration, which he was sure was coming up soon. And the funny thing was, Rose didn’t feel the need to celebrate birthdays, either. Well, unless they were somebody else’s; she would go out of her way to make that day astronomically special for them. So when she had turned to him last week, when they were out enjoying a milkshake in a diner on Panvorix, and told him, regrettably, that her mum wanted to throw her a birthday party with her friends and family for her twenty-first, which he was sure meant something to humans, he wondered whether he really needed to be there.

But, and this is where he finds it difficult: he somehow knew she wanted him there. She hadn’t explicitly said so, she had just sort of shrugged and said ‘you can come, too, although I doubt you’ll want to’. But other than that, she had talked about it as though she was going to go, not they. And if he only paid attention to her words and what she was saying, like he thought most humans — and, well, every other species in existence — did, then he would have felt no obligation whatsoever to join her. But these humans, and especially the British, have this odd sort of way of communicating where they would say one thing with words but also without them, and usually, the things they weren’t saying was quite different to the things that they were. And it seemed as though this was the case with Rose. Her lack of eye contact, the slight reddening in her neck, the indifference that he just knew wasn’t as indifferent as she would have liked it to be. She’d slurped her milkshake and changed the subject and that was that — no need to dwell. But once she had gone to bed that night, he wondered. He tinkered away in the control room and tried to interpret all those little things and he just couldn’t, so he gave up and decided to take her for her word. So he told himself, if she brings it up again, if she asks-but-doesn’t-ask him to come, then he’ll go with her. Otherwise, he’ll leave her with her mum for the night and come back for her the next day as she asked.

That was until Jackie called.

“You’re coming,” she had said flatly, and she had said it in such a frighteningly threatening way that he only nodded and agreed.

Rose had seemed most happy when he had said they were getting to her mum’s for midday on Saturday. She had quickly tried to hide it, and once more he got the impression that she was only acting nonchalant. But he wasn't quite sure, so he double checked just to be safe.

“You sure you want me there?”

She had frowned, and again shrugged without looking at him. “Course, you’re my best mate.”

And so here he was. Waiting in the control room for her, in a blue suit this time, while she packed her things in an overnight bag.

Today was her actual birthday. Her mum had called her all excited, wishing her a happy birthday — even though she was about to see her in a couple of hours. The Doctor had made her a cup of tea and said happy birthday, too, but Rose’s cheeks had flushed pink and he took that to mean that was enough making-a-fuss over her birthday for the day. Other than that, he hadn’t seen her all morning, and so when she entered the control room freshly showered and now in her jeans and a hoodie, her backpack slung over her shoulders, she grinned quite sheepishly and said,

“Hello.”

“Hello,” he echoed, a little less nervously. “All packed and ready, then?”

“I am indeed,” she nodded, and skipped over to him with a bit more gusto. “You mentally prepared?”

‘Oh, absolutely not.”

“Me neither,” she chuckled, and tugged on his arm. “You didn’t see mum on my eighteenth — she gets several octaves higher, just to warn you.”

He shuddered. “Well, lucky for you— and me, I suppose— my capacity to detect high pitches gets less and less with each passing century.”

“That’s good to know.”

After they had gone to Nando’s for lunch, Jackie had asked the Doctor to join her and help set up at the pub while Rose got ready back at the flat with a couple of her mates. He hadn’t been in love with the idea — a few hours alone with Jackie filling him in on the gossip of somebody called ‘Bev’ while various 90s pop songs echoed through the room, that was — and she certainly did like to talk when she was excited. They had pinned a few ‘Happy 21st Birthday!’ banners around the room, chucked a lot of small plastic ‘21’s across the floor and the bar, and, by the time Rose called to say she was on her way, the room had filled with quite a lot of people indeed. Some family members he was sure he had met before, little kids of cousins he definitely hadn’t, and a few of Rose’s friends who seemed to know her family quite well. It was the first time that day he had sort of warmed, seeing that Rose had grown up with such a loving group of friends and extended family, and he even loosened just a little as he chatted to a few while they waited for Rose to turn up.

“Everybody, she’s at the bottom of the road!” Jackie called out loudly, when she received a text from Shareen. At that, people picked up nearby birthday poppers and whistles, getting to their feet with excited and anticipatory smiles — the Doctor even had a confetti cannon himself ready to go for when she walked in.

But of course, when she did walk in, he couldn’t do anything at all except look at her.

As people called out excited ‘happy birthday!'s and set off their poppers, the Doctor found himself completely anchored to the spot while the room only burst with colour and into life. He had always found her quite beautiful, especially when she was giggling away or saying something particularly clever, and he had even found himself breathless once or twice to watch her. But tonight, goodness — he wasn’t convinced he had two bloody hearts because neither one was beating and certainly neither of them were supplying oxygen to the rest of his body.

It was her smile, without a doubt. It was different somehow, like an old smile he was sure she must have used before she met him, to see all these familiar faces of her loved ones. That, and her cheeks were dusted a delightful pink, a little shy he knew she must have been to have so many people around her for her. Her hair was wavy for once, and she wore a black dress that the Doctor was momentarily ashamed to find himself looking at; the way it sculpted her curves and defined the most enchanting silhouette, cut mid-thigh and exposing her legs — and he was especially ashamed for his gaze to linger on those, but she was simply so exquisite, everywhere, that he soon felt instead the same overwhelming awe he gets when he studies a painting, ones in which the colours tell a compelling story and the shapes express feelings that words could not completely.

He still hadn’t managed to find his breath by the time she caught his eye, and he found himself desperately trying to cling to coherent thoughts when she nervously made her way over to him.

“Hello,” she said again when she got to him, pausing for a moment before she reached up on her toes to give him a hug. He had just enough semblance of normality to return the gesture, albeit weakly — still trying to process his thoughts as he was.

Tell her!

“Happy birthday,” he whispered instead, and he heard her giggle by his ear before she released him, and there was a moment where he could have told her just how breathtaking she looked, but of course, he didn’t.

Instead, she scratched her arm and looked around the room. “Thanks for helping mum set all this up.”

“Oh, right—” he cleared his throat “— sure, no probs.”

“You’ll have to fill me in on all the gossip later.”

“Don’t worry, I took notes.”

She chuckled, and her eyes softened as she looked at him, taking him in, and they seemed to even darken somehow, which sent an odd sort of sense of affirmation through him — he was right not to shave today, then.

“Listen, er—” she began, her brow creasing in awkwardness, and she started scratching her arm again. He watched her curiously, wondering what she was about to say and feeling strangely nervous, all of a sudden. “Please don’t — I mean, thank you for coming, it— I just wanted to say please don’t stay, if you don’t want to— if you’re feeling awkward or anything just feel free to, you know—”

“Rose, it’s alright,” he grinned, putting his hands in his pockets. “I’ll be alright.”

“I know, I just didn’t want the last of the Time Lords to perish here in this pub in Southwark out of boredom.”

“Yeah, would be a dreadful end to their race I must admit.”

“Not one for the textbooks,” she giggled. “Nor one I’d particularly like on my conscience, either.”

“Blimey, you’re right — lot riding on the entertainment this evening, then.”

“Well in that case, I should remind you that mum planned this party.”

“Oh,” he groaned, and sighed defeatedly while she only continued to chuckle. “It’s just a couple of hours. I can do it.”

He sort of regretted saying that. Well, no, he definitely regretted saying that.

He’d spent the first hour or so meeting Rose’s family, and then after that getting to know five or six of Rose’s friends, sat around in a booth. They were all friendly enough, inviting him in as one of their own and of course, he thought, Rose’s friends would be charming, since they were Rose’s friends after all.

And then there was Callum, he thinks his name was, and at first the Doctor was able to maintain a calm composure despite his irritability when the lad put his arm around Rose, but after twenty minutes or so and he still hadn’t moved, the Doctor started to sincerely regret his decision to come here tonight and wondered whether he could quietly slip away and narrowly avoid some other, less painful end. But then Rose would give him that look, that smile that just seemed to settle him if only for the fact that it was hers. And so he stayed, listening to stories of their school days and joining in with their laughter until it became just a little too much, when Callum started whispering things to Rose when nobody else was paying attention. Rose didn’t seem particularly bothered by him, nor was she giving off any signs that she was uncomfortable, but he certainly seemed to have more of an agenda than she, and just enough that it pissed the Doctor off enough for him to excuse himself to get a drink instead.

“Just a Coke, thanks,” he said as he reached the bar, but the bartender looked back at him apologetically.

“Pepsi alright?” she said.

His shoulders slumped in disappointment because why would he want a Pepsi if he was ordering a Coke—

“Just kidding,” she grinned, reaching down for a glass and picking up a glass bottle of Coke. “Wouldn’t do that to you.”

“Oh,” he only half smiled, and loosened his tie just a little to finally just be able to breathe. “Well, that’s a relief.”

“You look like you could use something stronger, though.”

“Do I?” he frowned, somewhat surprised but not entirely that he must look exhausted to others. It was exhausting, realising that he was far too in love for his own good. But the bartender didn’t look like she thought that, not at all, as she grinned over to him.

“Parties don’t really seem like your sort of thing.”

He shook his head, resting his elbows on the bar. “No, not really.”

“So what is your thing, then?”

Earth wasn’t quite ready for the question to be answered with ‘time travel, mostly’, so he flustered a little in search of an answer more reasonable for the time period. “I tried soap carving, once. That was fun.”

She looked back at him completely confused for a moment, and he only added the admission to the long list of things he was regretting about this evening, before she gave him a friendly smile.

“Not something I would have expected you to say.”

When the Doctor only shook his head in hopeless exasperation, she grinned,

“I’m Laura, by the way.”

“John,” he retorted, as she placed the Coke in front of him.

“Nice to meet you John — this one’s on me.”

It took him a second to realise she had just bought him a drink — of Coke — but a common gesture nonetheless he was sure indicated flirting. “Oh— er, thanks.”

She nodded, but didn’t turn to serve any of the other guests, not that it was all that busy up at the bar, anyway. “So, John. Did you, er, come here with anyone tonight?”

As dreadful to admit as it was, he couldn’t say that he had. And it seemed so odd to him to think about, because he went everywhere with Rose, but he had never been anywhere with her. It wasn’t really something he had ever considered, whether he would like to start going places with Rose as his and he as hers, but now, as he thought about Rose with that slimy little git behind him, he rather wished that he didn’t have to fret. Not about the dreadful moment she tells him tonight that she’s going back to Callum's, and not about any other time in the future she would admit to having fallen in love with somebody else. It wasn’t a possessive thing, he didn’t want for nobody else to want her because she was his, but he wanted to just love her and be free to; no more of this pining and hiding and instead just be able to say that he was so terribly in love with her and that wasn’t going to change, no matter how much he wanted it to. Except he highly doubted she would want that, this nine-bloody-hundred-year-old alien who had murdered and cowered to be hopelessly devoted to her when she didn’t exactly ask for it. So, he swallowed, feeling his hearts sink in defeat as he did.

“No. Just me.”

Laura’s lips curled in triumph, and she leant in a little bit closer. “In that case, what are you doing tonight?”

If he was just that little bit less in love, he might have been tempted, he had to admit. But he was far beyond the point now of needing a distraction to this dreadful torment, he was much too in love with Rose to even be able to be distracted in the first place. Yet, he couldn’t quite find his voice to decline, so he only started to fluster as he broke eye contact, and took a sip of his drink in the meantime.

“Tell you what,” she smirked, taking a napkin from the bar and began to scribble something on it. “I finish at eleven-thirty. Here’s my number, just in case.”

As he helplessly watched her, he felt somebody put their arm through his as they approached the bar from behind, and was somewhat mortified to find Rose appear beside him. She looked quite peculiar indeed, an expression he had seen a couple of times aimed directly at the woman in front of her, and he glanced down in confusion when she placed her other hand on his arm.

“Malibu and Coke, please.”

Laura looked over to her, then down to her arm, then back up with a look that only seemed to mirror Rose’s. “Got any ID?”

Rose scoffed. “This is my party, you know.”

“Can’t serve you unless you’ve got ID.”

“Tell you what—” the Doctor interrupted, reaching into his pocket for the psychic paper as he heard Rose about to counter “—this one’s on me. Can’t have the birthday girl paying for her own drinks.”

Laura only looked back at him in disillusionment, her eyes flickered back to Rose. “Okay, but it was just you I was buying the drink for.”

Rose scoffed incredulously, and wrapped her arms around the Doctor’s only tighter as the two women seemed to be engaging in a fight without actually fighting. Or from what he could tell, anyway.

“Enduring terrible flirting and being come on to is just one of the many things I’m voluntarily subjecting myself to to be here with you tonight.”

“How hard that must be for you.”

“Just didn’t think you were interested in this sort of stuff, s’all,” she shrugged.

He frowned; he assumed she must have meant flirting. “I’m not.”

“Only got eyes for you, promise.”

She seemed to only laugh in spite of herself at his words, and seemed to receive his joke — although he couldn’t be certain he had meant it to be one. She looked up at him through those devilishly long eyelashes of hers and he tried desperately to think of just about anything to say to change the subject.

“Having a nice night?”

Rose pulled up a bar stool and hoisted herself up, wiggling about to get comfortable. “S’been nice, yeah. So many mates I haven't seen in forever — not since we all went to get our GCSEs.”

He gazed to the side of her in thought. “Five years ago, that must be now?”

She raised her eyebrow, but didn’t smile. “Yeah. Can’t believe it.”

She started poking at the ice in her drink now, but not consciously. She was distracted, seemingly saddened by the thoughts running through her mind. He watched her hand, her nails recently painted, wearing the ring her mum had got her for her birthday.

“I’m twenty-one,” she almost whimpered.

“Wait till you get to nine-hundred.”

He was relieved to hear her laugh, a real one, and she glanced at him with kind eyes, her eyes, not those strangely woeful ones she looked at her glass with. “Yeah. If ever I’m feeling old, I’ll just think about you instead.”

“There are some benefits to being ancient, then.”

She giggled, and it only seemed to tickle her more until he saw her completely, Rose as he knew her returned back to him. It relieved him, and he realised he had stiffened to see her so glum. She glanced once more down at the napkin and he sighed, unsure exactly what she was thinking, before something told him to lift up her glass and place it underneath instead. She turned to him with a shy smile, her lips thin as she tried to hide whatever emotion was surfacing, and she was unable to hold his gaze for long when she leaned against him to nudge his arm with hers. An apology, he guessed, and he himself tittered in response. She was less saddened certainly, but her silence was not quite unburdened, so he sought,

“What’s on your mind?”

“Hmm?”

“You,” he said softly. “I know you don’t like your birthday, but something’s up.”

She once more gave him one of those thin smiles, a smile he recognised was one she was trying to put on for him but unsuccessfully — he knew her, afterall. She sighed, and shook her head.

“Everyone’s… it’s just so strange. Being back, after having been away. Things have just… happened. Like Charlie’s had a baby, can’t believe it. She’s younger than me.”

So that was it. He felt an odd sense of guilt in the centre of his chest that only sank lower, and he realised she had only been confronted with how much she had missed since travelling with him. How much she was missing out on, and how much he had taken from her while he only wanted to keep her for himself. But he didn’t suppose she needed his self-loathing tonight, so instead, he frowned as he thought.

“Charlie’s your…” he began, trying to remember as he scanned the room.

“Cousin.”

“Right,” he nodded. He was surprised to find her watching him with a gentle smile when he looked back at her. “What?”

“Nothing,” she grinned, sheepishly, looking down briefly as her smile only grew less so and slightly more endeared, might he say, instead. “Just you, trying to learn all my family and friends.”

“Trying being the keyword there — there’s a lot of them.”

“I know, but it’s funny,” she teased, that tongue sticking out of her teeth that he had to quickly avert his gaze from, “You can remember something complex and yet still get lost remembering the names of my family.”

“My mind sadly is not a TARDIS,” he jibed, and she chortled delightfully into her glasses as she took a sip. “Everytime I have to remember one of your cousin’s names, I have to forget about something else. I’ve forgotten Einstein’s special relativity equation to remember you have an Aunt called Jeanette.”

“Well, that's a bummer for relativity, because my Aunt’s called June.”

He frowned at her, momentarily fooled, before he rolled his eyes. “No she’s not.”

Rose scoffed with her mouth agape in shock. “Yes she is!”

As she giggled away, he vaguely recalled meeting a month, before his eyes widened and he blinked in defeat.

“Blimey, right then.”

Rose put her drink back down on the bar and struggled to contain her giggles and, goodness, he simply couldn’t look away. Her eyes scrunched shut, her nose wrinkled and smile so bright, she was impossibly beautiful when she was like this, her laughter sounding so pure and so wonderfully joyous. He wasn’t convinced she was laughing solely at his complete inability to remember anything remotely related to something so important as her family, because he only imagined it to be quite disappointing, but he wasn’t about to step in and stop her, especially not when he felt his own smile begin to grow at seeing her this way. She shook her head and opened her eyes as her giggles subsided but smile remained and she looked at him in the most breathtaking way and he could feel himself falling, needing to physically stop himself from leaning in closer to her.

There was a moment, one terribly long agonising moment, where he thought he might just falter. Despite everything inside him begging him not to, he found himself unable to hear himself when her eyes locked with his in such a way, in fact, the only thing that was able to prevent him from kissing her was knowing how terribly awkward it would be when she pulls back, wondering what on Earth he was thinking to presume she would want him to kiss her. So he swallowed, and looked away, back down at his drink and he took another sip.

Thankfully, before he had a chance to make a fool of himself and try to string a sentence together, he was interrupted by a voice sounding from a microphone behind them. They both turned, and, over at the corner of the pub stood two of Rose’s girlfriends, both of whom he remembered were with them at the table earlier, standing with a few pieces of card in their hands.

“Ahem — can we have everyone’s attention, please?” one of them — he was sure her name was Grace — announced, a smug anticipatory smile donned her slightly flushed face, and the room went quiet a moment before the music turned down, too. “Hi! Good evening, everyone! So, in case you aren’t all aware yet, today is our very own Rosie Tyler’s twenty-first birthday!”

The room broke into applause, a few cheers and the odd wolf whistle as many turned to look at Rose beside him.

He teased quietly only to her, “Rosie?”

“Shut up,” she muttered as she elbowed him, but couldn’t stop grinning despite herself. “Little gits know I hate being called Rosie.”

“So before we get started, a very happy birthday to you!” the other girl — Cara, was it? There goes Euler’s equation, he surrendered — said into the microphone. “We hope you’re having a great night, and we love you—”

“Even if she did nick my GHDs.”

Rose snorted when Grace stuck her tongue out at her. “I did not! I just forgot to give them back to you!”

“Hmm, how convenient— anyway,” Grace stressed, and the room was chuckling to their playful teasing. “We thought we might play a little game, before we start the, er, slideshow in a bit—”

“Oh, god,” Rose muttered under her breath, and the Doctor sniggered quietly.

“— just a quick ‘How well do you know Rose Tyler’ quiz. No teams, no competition, strictly for embarrassment purposes alone.”

“Get me out of here,” Rose whispered to him, but he stayed firmly put.

“Oh, absolutely not. I’m staying for this.”

“Then I’m going to fly your ship myself and leave you here stranded.”

“Fine by me, I want to see all those pictures you’ve been so adamant remain hidden away in a box every time we go round to your mum’s.”

She groaned, and hid her face in her palms.

“So, without further ado: question one.” Grace paused for dramatic effect, reading the words on her paper with a teasing smile. “What was the name of Rose’s first boyfriend?”

“Oh my god, my mum’s here—”

“Jimmy!” one of her friends shouted, and the Doctor felt Rose bury her face against his arm.

“No,” she whispered, about the same time Grace called out,

“Incorrect!”

“Craig David!” a male voice shouted, and Rose groaned loudly as the room went quiet.

“That is correct!”

The Doctor scoffed next to her as the rest of the room erupted into laughter. “Oh, come on.”

“Rose absolutely believed she and Craig David were meant to be back in year six, and told everyone they were boyfriend and girlfriend,” Cara giggled, and the Doctor only chuckled to hear Rose repeatedly whispering ‘Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god’ into his arm.

“Had to get her a poster!” Jackie called with a squeal of delight.

“Get me— you’re a Time Lord for god’s sake, go back in time and stop this from all happening!” Rose urged.

“Not a chance.”

“Question two!” And once more, the room went quiet in anticipation. “And a little less embarrassing, maybe—”

“Thank God,” Rose mumbled. At that point, he couldn’t really stop himself from giving her arm a gentle stroke.

“— Which film was Rose obsessed with at the beginning of secondary school?”

“Easy! Back to the Future!” another one of her friends called out.

The Doctor scoffed, “You’re kidding?”

Rose pulled away, then, unashamed. “Marty Mcfly, hottest fictional character in the world, I stand by it.”

“If I dress up in that puffer vest and the TARDIS gets her act together to disguise as a DeLorean, are we just playing out your secondary school fantasy?”

“Why do you think you had me so hooked with ‘did I mention it also travels in time’?”

“And that is correct!” Grace called, and just on queue, The Power of Love began to play through the speakers. Rose shook her head, and broke into a timid but unabashed smile.

“How many gigawatts to travel in time, Rose?” Grace called.

“One point twenty-one!” she volleyed, unashamed.

“Is that all? I’ll remember that for next time,” the Doctor whispered, and she elbowed him with a smirk.

“Question three — and sorry, Jackie — but why did Rose get two weeks of detention in year eleven?”

“Oh my god no!”

“Two weeks!” The Doctor kept his exclamation hushed, and once more Rose turned back around to face the other side of the bar, but he tugged on her arm to bring her back around, leaving her unable to hide her embarrassment and red hot cheeks.

“For skipping maths to snog Jimmy in the art room!”

“Rose!” Jackie gasped loudly as the room cheered.

“This is the worst thing that has ever happened in my life ever,” she groaned to the Doctor, and he only found her that much more gorgeous as she looked so delightfully mortified.

“That is correct!”

Rose whimpered quietly to the Doctor as the rest of the room erupted into laughter, “Please do that thing again where you make me forget all of my memories.”

“The snog wasn’t that great, then?”

She shuddered. “Far too much tongue.”

“How delightful,” he chuckled, feeling a peculiar sense of victory.

“Question four!” Grace called, and waited for the room to settle. “Which medal did Rose win in the county gymnastics?”

“The bronze!” the Doctor called, surprised but unashamed for calling out himself, and the room roared in cheer and a thunderous applause broke out.

“And quite right!” Cara hailed into the microphone, and Rose bumped arms with the Doctor.

“Was only the bronze,” she mumbled.

“Hey!” he denounced, “The bronze is bloody excellent!”

Her smile was thin and bashful and begged to be attended to; he responded without thinking by pulling her into his side and she wrapped her arms around his waist.

“Okay, okay, our last and final question—” somebody at one of the nearby tables began to perform a drum roll as Grace paused to read the card “— What did Rose do on her eighteenth birthday?”

“Get absolutely hammered?” someone suggested, and by the way Rose only hid herself further into his chest and shook her head, he imagined they were right.

“More detail needed!” Grace called.

“My whole family’s here,” she whimpered quietly.

“How PG are we keeping it?” one of the boys from the table they were all sitting at earlier shouted, and they giggled amongst themselves.

“Oh god, was it that bad?” he whispered to her, but she just kept shaking her head.

“More PG than your eighteenth, Liam,” Cara pointed out, to which Liam held his hands up in his surrender.

“Didn’t you throw up at Tottenham Court Road bus stop?”

“That was not me!” Rose called out, releasing her hold on the Doctor. He folded his arms, now very aware that the rest of the room was looking at them. “That was Shareen!”

Shareen gasped somewhere in the crowd. “You little grass!” She slammed her hand down on the table and stood up. “And for that, I’m breaking my silence — on Rose’s eighteenth birthday, she got drunk and performed ‘Steps, Tragedy’ up on a table on Carnaby Street in front of the entire street with accompanying dance moves — and she fell down at the end.”

“And we have the video to play to you all later!” Cara beamed, just as the room erupted into an excited cheer.

Rose shrieked in protest, her cheeks burning red and the Doctor only cackled at the image of Rose drunkenly bearing her heart and soul out to what he knew was her favourite girl band of the 90s, so he could only imagine how animated that performance must have been. People had got to their feet, cheering and clapping as Rose hid her face in her palms and Tragedy began to blare through the speakers. Some chanted along, some were too lost in their own giggling and retelling of old anecdotes, and some flocked to Rose to give her gleeful hugs and cheer her on. But something about it saddened him all of a sudden, watching as Rose was swallowed up by the love of her friends so fierce and unashamed, a dull and remorseful ache somewhere in his chest that he couldn’t quite place but certainly didn’t like.

He turned back around and spotted Laura, now leaning against the back bar, and he caught her eye.

“I’ll take that stronger drink, now.”

She glanced over at Rose, now completely lost to the crowd, then back at him, and nodded.

He didn’t drink often, not at all, so he insisted only on a single, handing Laura a fiver and telling her to keep the change. He got to his feet, grabbed his jacket, and slipped quietly outside and into the pub garden.

The night was pleasant, the stars for once visible over London, but he imagined most might not catch them so clearly amidst the surrounding light pollution. There were strings of warm fairy lights hanging from the brick wall that surrounded the quite large garden, a few pub benches dotted around with even less people quietly chatting amongst themselves over a beer and the odd cigarette. What encouraged him the most was the quiet, the peacefulness that greeted him as he stepped out of the pub, sitting down on one of the vacant tables just under a tree with yet more fairy lights hanging from it.

He sighed deeply, but he found he wasn’t quite fully able to breathe in all the way, like something caged his chest and prevented it from fully expanding. He took a sip of the — what he discovered was — whiskey and shuddered to feel its heat trickle down his throat, settling something that had been rising in his body all night. He looked down at his hands, quivering now although he was not cold, and swallowed thickly.

He was in love, he had known that for a long time. But tonight he had realised how terribly irrevocable it was, how awfully trapped he had made himself in his dreadful and unavoidable addiction to her, how he had known this was going to be devastating and he was going to regret it but yet hadn’t cared. And now here he sat, alone as he always was and always would be, wondering just how he might survive this in the end.

It wasn’t that he worried about the day she would no longer be with him, although that wasn’t a thought he liked to entertain. It was this horrible ache, a dullness in his bones, a contradiction to the life she inspired within him. It was twisted, it was confusing, and it was devastating.

He looked up at the stars, a universe above him that he knew and yet didn’t. Taking another sip of his whiskey, and following another subsequent involuntary shudder, he closed his eyes to the return of that hollowness in his chest. The vacuum above felt infinitely small in comparison, and he knew there was no fighting it’s torture except to grit and bear it for as long as she stayed with him, and even longer than that.

He didn’t shudder when he took a third sip of his drink.

He had been so lost in his thoughts for so long that he only realised the environment had altered when a figure sat beside him. There were less people now he realised, only one or two at a table a few away from his, but none of that seemed to matter when he saw it was Rose who had sat down next to him.

“You alright?” she asked.

“Hmm?”

She shivered, and looked down at his drink. “Bit too much back in there, yeah?”

He couldn't reply at first, but his lie found his tongue at the time that he swallowed. “Na, it’s been alright. Just needed five outside in the quiet.”

Rose grinned, a warm smile he knew well, and shivered once more. The goosebumps began to line her skin, soft hairs rising on her arms, and he glanced down at her things to see the same pattern emerging there. He unbuttoned his jacket and slipped it off, attentively hanging it over her shoulders and she looked down with a smile, pulling it tighter around her.

“Thanks,” she whispered, a soft sound that settled on the air and he closed his eyes to it, trying to still what it did to his hearts. Once more, he breathed deeply, now that he could as she sat close to him, and when he opened his eyes on his exhale he saw her looking down at the table, mulling over something in her mind.

“Are you alright?” he murmured, and she closed her eyes to that.

“Mmm. Just needed to step out — don’t like havin’ all the attention on me, you know that.”

Funny, he thought, if she knew just how much she claimed all of his attention, his thoughts and dreams, his hopes and longings, even down to his physiology and heartbeat, she would flee.

Her legs had started to bounce — anxiously or because they were cold, he didn’t know — but he found himself looking at a mole on her thigh, one he of course had never seen before. He closed his eyes once more in a desperate plea to try and stop the thoughts from drowning him, of how much he wanted to see every piece of her, to know all her moles and the feel of her skin under his fingers, to learn her and know her in a way nobody else did or ever could possibly again.

“Y’know, I remember the first time you met all my family, when we were huddled in my mum’s living room watching the telly,” she grinned, and her voice encouraged him to avert his gaze, and, thankfully, his thoughts. “Said you didn’t do domestics and all that.”

“I still don’t,” he pointed out, and she sniggered. “I have no idea how I keep finding myself in these situations so often.”

“I think you like them, really.”

“I like you, there’s a difference.”

She chuckled, “So if I’m understanding you correctly, the last of the Time Lords bends to nobody’s will except mine?”

“You understood that correctly, yes.”

Her gleeful hum in response was enough for him to let her believe he was exaggerating. After a minute or two, she spoke again.

“I used to come here all the time. Most Thursdays after work. Sometimes it’d be all of us — it was quite central for where we all worked — and sometimes it’d just be me and Mickey.”

He grimaced as she rubbed salt into the wound unknowingly. He was reluctant to admit to himself just how many hours he had spent thinking about them, of their dates in the park and stolen kisses in her lunch break, of nights spent together and mornings in love. He glanced back down at the mole on her leg and knew of course he wasn’t going to know her as nobody else did, he never could even if he did ever give in to his hearts.

“It’s like a different life,” she sighed. “I always thought this sort of stuff would hit you in your thirties, lookin’ back over your school days and realising how much had changed since then. But I’m twenty-one, and it feels like a completely different me and it was only two years ago!”

He was still while she spoke what was on her mind. He didn’t get the feeling that she regretted it so much, and he was a little relieved at that. But he thought perhaps it was more the speed of time passing that stunned her, her perspective of it all shifting and she wasn’t quite ready for it. As a Time Lord, he so wished he could slow it down for her, make it just that little bit more manageable because, truthfully, it terrified him sometimes, too.

“It’s only that you fill your life with so much that it feels that way,” he tried, and she sniffed in the cold. “It feels a bit like time passed you by because, well, it has. You didn’t even see it go, you were far too busy moving and adapting but it passed, at the same rate it always does. But you didn’t.”

She frowned, and gave him a lopsided smile. “I suppose you would give me some nonsensical explanation of time that oddly makes sense.”

“It’s what I’m here for.”

“Really?” She scrunched her nose. “I thought you were here to protect time.”

“Whoever told you that?”

She rolled her eyes with a more symmetrical smile now, her hands moving to cover her face as she attempted to hide just how funny she found his joke. “If it’s this bad at twenty-one, must be bloody awful for you.”

He inhaled sharply, making her giggle more. “The trick is not to think about it.”

“Take each day as it comes,” she reflected, and he hummed beside her in agreement. “They were right, all those adults. Everytime they said to live each day to the fullest.”

“That they were.”

And then she seemed to sadden again. After a moment, and with a quiver to her voice, she whispered,

“If only it didn’t make time pass faster that way.”

He nodded slowly in agreement, although he protested she be thinking such morose concepts on her twenty-first birthday. She began to pick at the skin around her nails, the nail polish on her thumb had chipped and he knew she must have been doing this all night, then.

“Why don’t you like your own birthdays?” he asked, realising that he never had.

She shrugged. “I used to love my birthdays. Birthday cakes, party bags, trips to the London Fields Lido and all that stuff.”

“Then what changed?”

She hesitated, and frowned. He waited while she thought, but he realised at some point she wasn’t searching for the answer, she was only debating whether to give it to him. Eventually, she swallowed, and spoke flatly,

“I met a Time Lord.”

And there it was. He felt his thoughts click into place, then, that strange sadness about her all day that he hadn’t quite been able to interpret finally making sense. It was, truthfully, his biggest regret, although he should have seen it coming, and he only gritted his teeth at his own negligence.

“Rose—”

“No, but think about it,” she insisted, and for once he found himself wanting to listen to her, to hear her worries about something he considered constantly. She seemed too intent on bearing herself to him here, in this garden, on this night, and he could only let her. “Every day I get older—”

“You’re twenty-one, that’s hardly you getting older—”

“But it is!” she retorted, a strange smile that wasn’t a smile by any means only holding back her tears now and he didn't know how they had got here, but his hearts ached to see her like this nonetheless. Her mouth hung open as if to say something else, but she seemed unable to and only let out a small croak instead.

“Hey,” he murmured, and he took the opportunity to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, curling his fingers as he dared himself to brush her cheek. “I do not want you to miss out on any of this because you’re afraid of getting older next to me.”

“M’not afraid of getting older,” she contended plainly. “I’m afraid of leaving you all alone.”

His breath was uneven as he exhaled, but he didn’t think she would have detected it. He dropped his hand back down to the table, and she sniffed wetly, seemingly annoyed by herself for some reason. She bit down on her bottom lip with her eyes closed before she opened them to find his, holding his gaze firm. He saw all of her, then, the things she didn’t want him to see in her eyes even in this light, and he knew she must be seeing all of him, too.

Because it consumed him to learn that this was how she felt. That she regretted each passing day because it was one less day — not that she got to spend with him, but that he had left to spend with somebody. The dreadful wringing of his chest at that, at knowing how much of her life and how many of her days she was spending in fear for his inevitable loneliness when that was only his worry, his concern. Rose wasn’t supposed to feel any of that, much less break her own heart every day, and he realised he must have been doing a terrible job at keeping those worries and concerns to himself. Rose only ever wanted everybody else to be okay, and now, on her twenty-first birthday, she was furious with her own mortality for getting in the way, stopping somebody she cared for so deeply from hurting.

So he had no alternative, really, when he leaned in to her this time. He just about had enough control to pause, give her the chance to pull away if she so wanted, and it seemed as though time completely stopped as he did. He could hear her breathing shallow, see the goosebumps line her neck and he took that moment, those few seconds, to learn her as he had wanted. His eyes found another mole on her collarbone, and upwards, the pulse in her neck at having him this close to her. A quiet and strained whimper on her lips, a plea, and then the feel of those lips against his.

He had always wondered how she would taste. The time he had kissed her on Satellite Five, he had only done so to take the time vortex from her, and for that his senses were mostly dulled. Now, as time slowly began to resume once more, he couldn’t taste a thing either; all he could do was feel. This overwhelming relief surging through him, his hearts beating as they should to feel this alive, and, for a moment, an assertion that nothing could tamper with his hope.

And then she gasped; her mouth opened and that’s when he could finally taste her. And he did, the tip of his tongue finally tasted home as it explored the texture of hers and everything he was learning about her he already knew. Because she was familiar, she was her, he knew her lips already and running his tongue along them told him nothing new about them but yet wanted more even still, to know how her bottom lip felt between his teeth, and he was a quick learner, picking up on the sensitive spots that would draw her moans and which of them would catch her breath in her throat.

His heightened senses had thus far only proven to be most valuable, until now, because she consumed all of him to a point where it was too much, and he had to break away, just to focus. But she didn’t hesitate to keep going, so keen was she on tasting him too, and she trailed her kisses across his cheek and along his jaw and this was new, feeling her learn him with her own senses, the moans she drew out herself at certain points on his skin.

“Rose,” he breathed, a plea and a promise in itself, and she brought their lips back together once more.

She began to shift without breaking their kiss and he felt her move one of her legs over him, soft chuckles she released onto his lips as she fumbled onto his lap on the most uncomfortable bench he could remember sitting on. But he quickly lost all conscious recognition of the world outside him, outside them, when he felt her hands move to cup his neck before her fingers slowly trailed up and through his hair. Her lips curled when he groaned and a second later so did she when she ran her nails back down. Their kiss was broken when her head rolled back to the feel of his hands on her thighs, sliding up to her waist where they held her hips close to his and in their respite, his lips found her neck and he sucked, just over her pulse, her breath catching in response. He felt her hands loosen as they became less conscious of their actions and more reflexive to her feelings and he felt her pulse drum fervently beneath his lips. With a final nip to her skin, he released her, the darkened bruise forming he could see even under this light, and pride raptured his veins to have finally claimed just a part of her as his. But then the trouble was he wanted to claim all of her as his, if she would let him, and by the way she rocked into his hold when he pulled away only confirmed that she would. As her lips began their descent once more down onto his skin, pressing sweet and messy kisses down the bridge of his nose and to his lips, he realised he couldn’t find the trouble in it at all.

He deftly slipped his jacket off her shoulders and shuddered at the speed in which her goosebumps prickled beneath his fingers, before he dragged them slowly across her shoulders and down her back, as far as her dress would allow. One hand stayed where it was, exploring the planes of her shoulder blades as they contracted with the movement of her hands, and the other travelled south and to the small of her back where he pressed, gently, until she arched into him. That move released another sound from her lips, much lower this time, much deeper and hungrier and his was only lustful in response. She tore her lips from his to bow her head to his shoulder, pausing only to catch her breath with the intent of resuming, so he peppered his kisses this time further down her neck, softening as they pressed across her shoulder until he felt her lips on his neck, her teeth grazing his skin as she matched the mark made on hers. He shivered to know she was doing the same, marking him, and he moaned into her skin as he allowed her to.

“I want you,” she breathed, he was sure she was trying to sound firm but her need strained her request. “But not here.”

He remained still as his surroundings began to settle into their rightful place and he remembered where they were. He was in no way ready to pull back, but he couldn't exactly keep going, so instead he kept his eyes closed as he followed the trail of his hands on her body, slowly tracing the curves and dips of her frame. She didn’t move either, but it seemed she too was focused only on his hands, as she had since stopped exploring him herself. To feel her in this way, to roam freely as he wished while she remained compliant and willing above him, prevented him from asking if she was sure she wanted him, and if was even a little bit more level-headed than he was at the moment, he would ask if she had really thought this through.

But all he could seem to focus on was her words, the sound of her telling him she wanted him. After that, nothing else mattered.

“Doctor,” she whispered again, and he opened his eyes to find that mole on her collarbone beneath him. He swallowed, and with considerable difficulty, and pressed his lips to it before he finally pulled away.

She cleared her throat and started to shift off of him and he spotted the other table glance over in their direction. Right, he thought, scratching the back of his neck and neatning his — he was sure — disheveled hair. Public decency, must remember that one.

Rose was grinning sheepishly by the time she settled down next to him, and for a moment, neither looked at the other. He swallowed, now that he was finally able to, and ran his palms over his trousers to neaten them down just a little. Rose tugged on the hem of her dress to bring it a bit further down her thighs and he swallowed again to see her legs bare, having only very recently felt them beneath his hands, and the tips of his fingers tingled at the memory.

Rose let out a breathy laugh, then, and he glanced over to her just at the time she looked up at him. She drank him in, her eyes flickering across his face, but he couldn’t quite do the same; he found himself transfixed only on her eyes.

“C’mere” she grinned, licking her thumb and rubbing it across his cheek. “You’ve got lipstick all over you.”

He nodded, before he gestured to her. “Funnily enough, so do you.”

She pressed her fingers to the side of her lips and giggled while he fumbled around in his suit pockets for some makeup wipes, and then she brought them down to her neck to press gently into the bruise beginning to form over her pulse.

“Bit more worried about everyone seeing that.”

He raised his eyebrow. “Didn’t hear any complaints from you when I was giving it to you.”

“Nope,” she affirmed smugly. She tugged at the wipes when he pulled them out, taking one and began cleaning up his face. “Think I’ve got some concealer in my bag, anyway.”

“Your bag’s inside.”

“Bugger,” she cursed, and he chuckled. “Reckon you could go and grab it for me before anyone sees?”

He pointed to his neck. “I think we just have to own this one, Rose.”

“It’s a lot easier to own it when everyone doesn’t know you.”

“It’s only you they know.”

“Right,” she beamed, “so you won’t have a problem going and getting my bag then, will you?”

“Bugger,” he cursed, and she chuckled.

He watched her, then, the golden lights shimmering in her eyes as she smiled, her lips still a little swollen and hair messier now. She wasn’t aware of him watching her, he didn’t think, so she was caught off guard when he began to smooth down the strands, running his fingers softly through her hair to bring back a bit of order. As he did, his gaze remained fixed on her, the shy way she kept herself still and allowed him to sort her out, to fix her back up as if she needed fixing in the first place.

“You are…” he tried, but the word was lost on his lips. He had no way of surmising her beauty at that moment, and he supposed that's why people looked to poetry or song in times where words weren’t adequate to suffice.

Perhaps she didn’t need any of that, because she seemed to understand exactly what he was trying to say, or at least the depth of it. She took his hand then, which had since frozen in his quest to articulate just how captivating she was, and brought it to her lips. She kissed each of his fingers deliberately, carefully, attentively, her eyes closed as she spoke the words caught in her throat on his skin and all he could do was listen.

God, she was divine. He felt the way his hearts completely responded to her alone, their slight quickening as her lips brushed his skin and the harder they beat for her when she released him. He was sure they had a song about them, her song, and he could have them converse with her for as long as he lived.

“What are you thinking?” she murmured, and he had been mostly — no, completely — unaware of her watching him. He wasn’t quite ready yet to translate his hearts’ intent, so instead he leaned back into her, touching his lips to the corner of hers to kiss her where he was hesitant to pull back, captured instead by a sweetness that lingered on her skin. When her lips curled beneath his, he finally did pull away; not too far though, just enough for her to hear the words he didn’t speak.

Neither said anything, for a while. Not through their searching for something to say, but simply because this was unlike them to be so close and they were familiarising themselves with it.

He was falling in love with it.

“You know,” she whispered with a smile, “I don’t think I’ve ever known you to say so little.”

“Would you prefer it if I were babbling away instead?”

“God, no,” she chuckled as he pulled away. “Think I can safely say that’s one of my preferred ways you’ve made use of your tongue.”

He raised his eyebrow and her cheeks flushed pink furiously.

“Oh my god, no! I didn’t mean— not that!”

He raised his other eyebrow and, after quickly searching his eyes, she raised hers.

“Wow, okay so maybe that, if you’re—”

He chuckled, and kissed her shoulder before climbing to his feet. “I’m going to go and get your bag.”

“Or—” she grabbed his hand to stop him “— how about we both go back to the TARDIS and pick up where we left off?”

He snorted. “No chance am I missing your drunken Steps performance.”

“Not even for a good shag?”

He stilled to hear her say it, and only then did it occur to him that that was where this was heading. It was sobering, but he couldn’t say in any way it was repellent — not at all — only completely unbelievable.

“Oh god—” she slapped her hands to her face “—you didn’t— that’s not what.. what you— oh my god you didn’t say that’s what you wanted—”

“Rose,” he stressed, although gently, pulling her hand away as he crouched down in front of her. He tried to look at her, peering up from underneath her, but she wouldn’t look back at him. “I don’t think we’d be fooling anybody if I said I didn’t want that, too.”

She nodded firmly, still unable to look him in the eye. He rubbed his thumb over her fingers as they rested firmly in his, still a little nervous was she while he was completely certain.

“But it’s not all I want.”

“Yeah?” she said as she chewed her bottom lip. He nodded, and she paused for a moment, hesitant, before she spoke. “But…”

And then it was lost on her, either the rest of that sentence or her confidence to say it. Her fingers began to fidget in his, and he loosened his hold but not entirely, simply only allowing her the freedom to dwell without letting her drift entirely.

“But what?” he probed.

She looked even further down now, her chin tucked to her chest. “Wither and die, and all that.”

Ah yes, he grimaced. That.

The truth was, of course that’s all he could think about. And he regretted saying that to her every day since he had, because it shouldn’t have been her problem and yet he had made it her problem. By only showing her how much it anguished him, she had taken it upon herself to fix it for him, only to realise that she couldn’t. Nobody could, and for that, she couldn’t simply rest and allow herself to be happy while he only awaited misery. He wondered, then, if that was why she was so hesitant — not because she didn’t want this with all her heart, but because he had given her reason to believe he was petrified for his own survival, for a future of solitude without her but it was specifically that last part that tortured him now.

Without her. How could she possibly begin to resolve her heartache when she worried tirelessly over something she couldn’t control? He had to unburden her, assure her that he wasn’t scared for him, when truthfully he felt sick by his awaited grief. So for that, he bent his head to kiss her knee, and swore to inherit all her anxieties himself and free her of them.

“I know you’re a whole twenty-one-years-old now, but I don’t see you withering anytime soon.”

She didn’t laugh, but he still smiled reassuringly, intent on fulfilling his promise.

“But I will, one day,” she countered, and he fought back a sigh.

“Are you always this miserable on your birthday?”

“Doctor!” she pleaded, but she was beginning to smile despite herself. “This is serious!”

The worst part was that he had had this exact argument with himself, time and time again, only he was normally on her side himself. But it had all changed when he had heard her tell him she wanted him; up until then, those arguments with himself were a response to the very hypothetical situation she might want him, but now that she actually did, he found himself quite unable to see her side now.

“Alright, alright,” he held up his hands in defeat. “You’re right.”

She didn’t exactly bask in it, but he knew he wasn’t about to give up anytime soon. So he perched himself down next to her, the picnic bench groaning as he settled his weight. A silence extended between them and he watched as Rose played with her ring, fiddling about with it in the interlude as she tried to find her words. But as the silence passed and she remained quiet, he realised perhaps she had nothing to say unprompted, so he asked a question he was sure he never would in the hope that she might finally release herself.

“What do you want?” he whispered.

She hesitated even still, before her breath carried her answer in a sigh. “You.”

He could have her say it over and over again and never tire of it; perhaps that serenely restful truth caused the words to tumble from his lips so desperately. “You have me. Christ knows why you want me out of anyone else in the whole bloody universe, but whatever you want is yours.”

Perhaps it was the slight inflection on just the right word, or perhaps it was all of them together, but he felt her somewhat loosen beside him. Determined though he was, he was misplaced to hear himself say it, something he only ever imagined might terrify her now only somehow consoling her.

“This is… mad,” she shuddered with a smile. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted this?”

“I can take an educated guess.”

“And you really want this too?”

He shrugged. “Probably— I don’t know, haven’t really thought it through.”

She whacked his arm with a chuckle she couldn’t quite suppress. “Oh my god—“

“Rose,” he whispered, urged perhaps, and she all but stilled completely to hear him say her name in such a way. He turned to look at her but she had closed her eyes, so he took her hand, small and fragile and soft as it was, and started to settle the ache in his fingers by running them across her skin. So warm, even if she didn’t think so in the cool April chill, and the softness against his, coarse and tired, was sublime.

“Why me?”

“Why you, what?”

“You said I could have anyone in the whole universe, well what about you? You’re a Time Lord,” she breathed the name of his race with such wonderment while he only regretted it, but he kept still. “And you’re the last one! You have literally all of time and space to choose from, why would you choose somebody with such a short life span— somebody who you can’t exactly share the rest of your life with or even a substantial part of it. Sixty years, that’s all I have! That’s all we’ll have!”

“This is a bit like talking about breaking up before you’ve even gotten together,” he pointed out, and she grinned again despite herself at that, and it only seemed to frustrate her that he joked when she searched for an answer much more reassuring. But the fact was, it would seem she had thought about this, and perhaps had even used it to convince herself he didn’t want her in return, which was utterly absurd to him. Joking with her wasn’t seeming to do the trick, lightening the mood in the hopes of lightening her worry was proving to serve no end to her own perceived stalemate, and she wasn’t just taking him at his word and allowing herself this.

So he bent his head to kiss the ball of her shoulder and he lingered there, breathing her in, unable to stop himself from kissing the same spot again. He needed saving from this, he realised, because kissing her seemed entirely unpreventable since he had allowed himself to only minutes ago, and right now she needed his reassurance.

“I’ve seen it all, Rose. Nine hundred years of travelling, I’ve met some spectacular people. But you have something on me that I can’t describe, and I know for a fact it’s irreversibly binding. I know, because I feel it in the way you smile, the sound of your laugh, I know I don’t stand a chance when you say my name as you giggle and I’m a complete lost cause when you touch me in any way. What I’m trying to say is I’ve met so many people in this universe, from so many corners of it across so many ages and none of them have ever given me something so completely tangible to hold on to.” He frowned, realising how he must sound completely bonkers, and he wasn’t exactly the greatest romantic of his time, but he really was limited by his words in describing what she was to him, so he settled instead on one final, simple sentiment. “You’re everything.”

He sniffed, because it sounded so terribly feeble and uninspired, and pulled away. She had been watching him as he spoke his mind, perhaps thinking he was an absolute nutter, but her palm touched his cheek and she leant forwards, brushing her lips to his and only holding on to time, savouring each passing second in this point in time and he felt how overwhelming it was, even to him. All the seconds passed, all the ones following it were immeasurable, literally, and for only a few of them, just one or two, they kissed. When she pulled away, he found himself wondering how he could possibly not chase more of those seconds.

“And don’t even get me started on that,” he breathed, and she giggled delightfully.

“You know, when you told me you were coming tonight, I thought maybe I might be lucky enough to hear you tell me I look beautiful—“

“Which I still haven’t done,” he chastised.

“— I never imagined any of this might happen, not for a second.”

“You didn’t?” he retaliated. “I was spending my day hoping that I could just survive it — and I have to say, there was a moment when your mother was telling me about Bev’s one night stand where I really, honestly, thought I might not.”

“And yet, you stayed,” she grinned, somewhat smugly and a little sweetly. “And you hate domestics!”

“I could get used to them,” he shrugged, and she only looked back at him in surprise. “Well, okay, I could learn how to tolerate them.”

“For me?” she said, still a little in disbelief.

“I told you, anything in the universe, time and space, all of it, is yours,” he assured. “If that includes family gatherings and ‘life admin’ days, then so be it.”

“Christmas dinner?”

“I’m there.”

“Even Mum’s fiftieth birthday bash?”

“Even that.”

“Christenings, baby showers, all that stuff, too?”

“If Charlie pops out any more kids, you bet I’ll be meeting them all.”

Rose scoffed, “Who are you and what have you done to the Doctor!”

“S’what you’ve done to me,” he corrected.

“It’s what domestics have done to you.”

“No, no, it’s definitely you.”

The sound of these giggles in particular, the ones where she was endearingly timid as he all but worshiped her, were entrancing; a new world he had yet to explore lay in their sound and he was a traveller, after all. It was far too tempting, she was far too tempting, and her darkened eyes as she looked at him here and now held a map to a path unknown, a whole universe in itself and he was ready to be lost in this one.

Her eyes flickered to his lips and she licked hers almost straight after, before she met his gaze once more and they were somehow even darker now. He found himself falling before he had even let go; their noses touched and her hand on his thigh sparked, and this was ridiculous, it was completely without sense that it all should feel like this. How many times had he fallen in love, how many moments had passed like this one and yet none of them were like this one, nobody looked as she looked at him, nobody’s touch was as devilishly hypnotic and never before had his hearts drummed so mercilessly for a moment in time to pass and yet remain—

“Rose!”

They both tore away to the sound of her name being called from the door, and all at once it came back: the sounds of merriment inside, the rustle of the leaves above them, the very harsh reminder that they weren’t alone.

“We’ve been looking all over for you, your mum wants to do a speech.”

“Oh, god,” Rose groaned as Shareen trudged over to them. But her steps slowed as she got closer, until she stopped completely just before them, her mouth open as she realised what she had interrupted.

He wished, with everything he had really, to be anywhere else but here.

“Oh my god, are you two—“ she gasped, narrowing her eyes at them before she pointed at their necks. “What! is that a— have you two got hickeys?”

Rose fidgeted excessively, pulling her dress down as much as she could before slapping her hand to her neck. “Shareen— please can you go get my bag?”

She scoffed indignantly and folded her arms. “Concealer ain’t gonna cover that up— what did you do to her!” she teased at the Doctor, and he only hung his head low and desperately willed for this to be over.

“Shareen,” Rose groaned. “Please, c’mon— I got two bloody weeks of detention covering for you when it was both of us skipping science to snog our boyfriends!”

The Doctor scratched his neck and shuddered to realise he was now in a situation akin to snogging his high school girlfriend when he should be in science class. He’d always wanted the human experience but this was not so high up on his list.

“As your mate, it’s my duty to have you completely mortified on your twenty-first — but—“ she insisted, when Rose began to protest “— as your best mate, I’m going to do you this favour and help you cover up the fact that you were out here neckin’ with a bloke none of us have really met before.”

The Doctor leapt to his feet, finally deciding to remove himself from this dreadful situation, but Shareen put her hand on his chest to stop him instead.

“Nope— you stay here, you look even worse than she does,” she smirked, before turning back to Rose with a wicked grin. “Give me two mins, but if your mum finds you in the meantime then I can’t help you.”

“Nobody could,” the Doctor muttered, mostly to himself, but Shareen caught it and giggled in agreement, before she turned to head back into the pub.

“I take it back,” he insisted as Rose got to her feet, too. “None of it, you can have none of it.”

“Nope,” she grinned. She took his tie in her hand and began to fiddle with it, but the look in her eye told him she was doing this deliberately, the little minx, and, worse yet, she knew exactly what it was doing to him. But she released him from it, this torture of being in a very public place when he so very much wished that they weren’t, and stood on her tiptoes to wrap her arms around his neck and pull him down for a chaste kiss, smiling into his lips as she whispered, “No taking it back now, Time Lord.”

And it was worth it, he thought, to see a smile he hadn’t seen before. Well, that and the way she had called him “Time Lord” in a way that sent shivers down his spine. But her smile now was one where she was so completely happy and at ease, and he was quite happy indeed to bear the weight of her concerns if it meant she could enjoy her time alive.

He supposed, then, for her twenty-first birthday, he might have given her time itself.

#ten x rose #tenth doctor #rose tyler #dw fic #loup.fic #doctor who #ficandchips #oh god these two

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uglypastels · 5 years ago

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idk if it has been requested but i’d love to see something with waterloo and harry styles. preferably smut👀

you got it :) it uh, lost a bit of track from the song but the general theme is still there? > pure smut under the cut, 18+ <

> catching up on my Spotify blurbs

Song: #19 - Waterloo by ABBA ___________________________

It had been a horrible idea. Why did you ever agree to it? Who in their right mind thought it was a good idea to go up on a dare like this. Oh, it would be just for fun, he said. Bullshit, and you should have known it. Because nothing between you two was just “for fun”. It always ended in a big competition, and this was no exception.

Who could last the longest without giving in? That was the real question, leading to days of constant flirting and teasing, with no real way out. The need for Harry to touch you, for a release, was only growing and growing and you couldn’t do anything but sit there. How much you wanted to cum, there was no way you would lose this fight.

And unfortunately, Harry was just as competitive as you. A trade that came very useful in Pub Quizzes or couples game night, was now your biggest curse. Whoever would lose, they’d never hear the end of the day about it. This would be the lost battle that would go down in the history of your relationship.

You were sitting on the couch, cuddled up under a blanket. It had been two weeks since the beginning of the game. You were watching a Christmas movie, popcorn on your lap as you were wrapped in Harry’s arms. But the popcorn almost went flying when you felt his hand on your thigh.

“Harry?” you whimpered, to which he only replied with a soft and innocent hum, as if he had no idea that that single little touch was already causing you to squeeze your thighs together.

“Don’t please.” You begged him. You were so desperate for him, you didn’t know what else to do to not lose the fight.

“Oh don’t be like that baby, you know you love it.” It would be a joke to lie at that. And there wouldn’t be even any use in pretending as his fingers slid over your legs, pushing them open, just enough for him to place his hand between them. Not moving, just placing it over your slit. Oh how badly you wanted to move your hips, any kind of friction would suffice.

Then you realised, two could play that game. Without making Harry move, you leaned forward to put the popcorn down. You held in the moan that came when you finally felt his palm press against your clit. When you sat back down, you placed your hand on his thigh. Inch by inch you moved closer until you were palming him. The silhouette of his hard-on was unmistakable, it had been for days almost. It was truly impressive how long he managed to last.

You held your hand there, just like he did yours. Anytime one of you moved, even the tiniest bit, the other would mirror. If you flinched your arm up, he would move his. If he moved, so did you.

“You’re so wet for me,” he whispered into your ear. “I can feel it through two fucking layers. It’s almost pathetic.” Your walls clenched around nothing as you responded. Your warm breath hitting his lips.

“As desperate as to how you’ve been so hard for me all this time, hmm? You can’t even leave the house babe.” The growl that those words of yours received made you weak. His hand left your body, but instead of letting go yourself, you adjusted your place so you could hold on to his length through his trousers. You could see how his jaw clenched at the unexpected feeling.

“I bet you’re so ready to cum too, hmm, babe?” you asked, slowly moving your hand up and down, probably an inch at most. Harry didn’t respond. You stared into each other's eyes as you started to move again. Your hand was around his tip, about to move down again, but he grabbed your hand.

What happened next went by in a flash. Harry pulled you in closer, his eyes will with sexual frustration, with dominance.

“Take off those pants or I’ll rip them off you.” He said, and you didn’t dare quip back. Not if you were so close to the finish. You got up and pulled your pants and underwear down. Your eyes glued to how Harry licked his lips at your sight and pulled his cock out. The tip was already red and leaking precum.

Your clothes had barely hit the ground when Harry pulled you back on top of him. You could feel him against your throbbing clit, but you didn’t move. And that was quickly rewarded when you felt Harry’s fingers slide over your soaked slit. He kissed your neck and you felt the vibrations of his moan as he continued.

“Harry, please.” How good his fingers might feel, you needed more. And it all came to his amusement.

“You’re so desperate, for my cock, aren’t you love? Hmm, so wet and needy?” He pulled his fingers out of you, they were glistening in your juice like the silver of the rings he was wearing.

“Fuck, you know it, but who made you this hard, hmm?” you said, thrusting your hips forward. You both moaned a whimper in unison.

“Oh, it was 100% you. I can’t stop thinking about your sweet lips around my cock, or having my way with your tight cunt.”

“So, what’s stopping you?” you cocked your head to the side, keeping your hip movements steady and on rhythm. “Fuck me, Harry.”

“With pleasure,” He had already been holding his dick up, so all he had to do was position it right and you could slide onto him with ease. The moans that came from both your mouths as you felt each other were harmonious. It was absolute ecstasy. Harry held on to your hips as you moved up and down. Slowly at first, but you were so needy you couldn't bother to fuck around with teasing and quickly moved up the tempo.

“Fuck, you feel so good around me,” He said, letting his head fall back, you felt a harsh pain on your ass he slapped it. “Don’t you dare cum.”

“Was- fuck,” you moaned through your sentence as he trusted into you at the perfect time, “was gonna say the same to you.”

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #harry styles blurb #harry styles au #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #fic #fanfic #blurb #smut #au #imagine #spotify blurbs

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weshallc · 5 years ago

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

Berns Night (Revisited) 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿

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

Chapter Three: OF MICE AND MEN

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why isn’t he here?” asked Bobby.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This was met with a very large and unanimous cheer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Lady K?” Phyllis queried.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sgian dubh,” corrected Vi.

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

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

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

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

“Cock a what?” shouted up Jack.

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

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

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

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

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

Murmurs of approval were aimed in Violet’s direction.

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

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

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

“Piper!” Several people groaned at once.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know a piper.”

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

“Do we, Jane?” Julia asked.

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

Everyone started talking at once;

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He’s rather good, as I remember.”

Jane was beaming as she nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Kevin.”

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

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

“Apart from Dad.” groaned Tim.

Followed by an echo of sighs.

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

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

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knovesstorytelling · 4 years ago

Text

Murray Mysteries S1E1 Transcript

Episode 1. Mina Murray’s Particularly Powerful Podcast Preface

Written by May Toudic

Mina: Welcome to Murray Mysteries.

[Theme music plays.]

Mina: Hi! Hello.

Mina (chuckling nervously): Howdy, nope.

[She groans.]

Mina: Welcome to this podcast. I’m Mina Murray. Blessed with an alliterative name since 1996. By day, I’m an unemployed twenty-something with a teaching degree. But by night, I, uh. I read books, watch true crime shows, and do jigsaw puzzles with my boyfriend.

[She laughs.]

Mina (pretending to be a sports announcer): And the crowd goes wild!

[She laughs more.]

Mina: Yeah, I know, I know. I sound uh, I sound boring. Honestly, I might be? You’re probably thinking “Everyone and their mother has a podcast nowadays. Why should I listen to this early-onset grandma talk about her life as an unemployed jigsaw puzzler?” If I were you, I probably wouldn’t want to listen to me either. BUT, but. I can be interesting, I promise. I love learning about psychology, and history, and criminology, and a lot of other things ending in -y and—

Mina (laughingly): I like sharing that knowledge too.

Mina: Trust me, I did not get a teaching degree because I love spending all my time with kids and teenagers. I did it because I want to make them better adults. And for every twenty brats there are, there is one who’s actually interested in learning stuff and listening to me rambling on about who came closest to catching Jack the Ripper. Weirdly, that primary school I did my placement in didn’t ask me back full time. Something about topics appropriate to discuss with six-year-olds? Their loss. Honestly, the kids loved it.

Mina: If that didn’t convince you, you should know I also hang out with way more interesting people than myself. My boyfriend, Jonathan, is a solicitor! Yeah, that doesn’t sound any better, but I swear he’s fun. He’s currently on a work trip to Transylvania, so clearly the job has benefits. He’s been sending me a lot of pictures of his food on the way to his client’s place and he said he was going to record his trip for my podcast’s travel segment. Didn’t have the heart to tell him that, uh, this trip’s the first one he’s been sent on in two years and we’re way too broke to fund our own travel segment.

Mina (thoughtfully): I guess we could do some very illegal camping in the nearest park and pretend the ducks are exotic wildlife.

Mina: Doesn’t that sound exciting. Well, beside budget Bear Grylls, I spend most of my time with my best friend and my flatmate, Lucy. Who’s probably the coolest person alive. She’s really hard to keep up with, in, like, the best way. Always has some kind of dodgy plan that will either turn out the best time of your life or a total disaster. No in-between. One time, she took me to this rave in an old, covered market where everyone was wearing vegetable costumes and they all played remixes of Play That Funky Music. I almost lost an eye to an asparagus, but man that was a fun night. Lucy met someone at the party and even ended up dating him for a bit. It didn’t last very long.

[Mina chuckles and clears her throat.]

Mina: The tomato costume should’ve been a … red flag?

[Mina starts giggling]

Mina: In my opinion.

[She giggles more.]

Mina: Sorry. I should be ashamed. Lucy made a pun jar for the flat and I have to put a quid in it every time I make a really bad one.

Mina (quietly): I won’t tell her about this one if you don’t,

Mina (normally): Oh! Oh, oh. I might’ve given her my login details, so there is a strong possibility she will hijack this podcast. Lucy, if you’re listening to this, don’t hijack the podcast?

[A door opens and shuts.]

Lucy (in the distance): Did I hear my name?

[Footsteps come closer.]

Lucy: You didn’t tell me you were recording.

Mina: You were out?

Lucy: Only for a bit! Did you wait until I was gone, you sneak!

Mina: I needed silence! And you were getting ready to the entire discography of Abba.

[Lucy chuckles.]

Mina: Didn’t you have a date?

Lucy: What? Um, no. Just drinks.

Mina: With someone who thought it was a date? Hmm?

Lucy: Maybe? So, what are you talking about?

Mina: You, actually.

Lucy: Oh, great choice of topic! Are you telling them about the—

Mina: —the veg party, yeah.

Lucy: That was a, that was a night.

[Lucy laughs.]

Lucy: I wonder how that tomato’s doing now.

Mina: No, no, don’t call the tomato.

Lucy: It’s just a call, it couldn’t hurt.

Mina: Lucy, what would Karamo say?

Lucy (in a nasally voice): You deserve better than a toxic relationship with some who doesn’t even know a fruit from a vegetable.

Mina: So, what are you going to do?

Lucy: Not call the tomato.

Mina: Good. Now, you’re either going to help me record this, or you’re going to get out of my room because you’re very distracting.

Lucy: I get that a lot. I’ll help you of course. What’s the next item on those little notes of yours?

Mina: Um, I was just about to tell them how we met.

Lucy: Oh, good! Now they can hear it from both points of view. A dual perspective, if you will.

Mina: You’re really milking that theatre degree there, aren’t you?

Lucy: Well, what else am I going to do with it?

Mina: Fair point.

[Lucy laughs.]

Mina: There’s really not much to the story.

[Lucy gasps.]

Lucy: Not much to it? It was a day for the ages. The origin story of our friendship. A platonic meeting of souls!

Mina: It was an eighties-themed pub quiz.

Lucy: Hey, pub quizzes are a magical thing. Anything can happen in a pub quiz. Case in point: meeting of souls.

Mina: So, it was the last day of freshers week. And I made myself go to this thing because I felt like I had missed out on all the university-mandated binge drinking.

Lucy: Mmhmm.

Mina: I went on a couple campus tours, a couple coffee crawls, but I couldn’t bring myself to talk to anyone there. Lucy, on the other hand, was there with a gaggle of glamorous people she’d managed to gather around her like moths to a very sparkly flame.

Lucy: I was wearing that holographic dress, wasn’t I? That was a good dress, I wonder what happened to it.

Mina: Um, you tore out the bit in the back in third year while trying to prove you could do the splits to that um, Brazilian exchange student.

Lucy: Oh. Yeah, I remember that. I think.

Mina: Anyway, I’m sitting there alone in a sticky booth, hoping for a miracle. And this glittering ball of charisma comes up and says “You look like you know stuff.”

Lucy: I’m very observant. You look smart and interesting and very sad and lonely. How could I resist?

Mina: You just wanted someone who was sad enough to have seen every John Hughes movie three times.

Lucy: Well joke’s on me because now I’ve seen them all too. And Molly Ringwald is an eternal icon.

Mina: Yeah, it turns out Lucy’s love of eighties music and my knowledge of history and cheesy movies made us pretty much unbeatable.

Lucy: Mmhmm.

Mina: We won a hundred-pound voucher and Lucy convinced everyone to get a mountain of pub food instead of drinks because she could tell I didn’t want any alcohol.

Lucy: I’m a very good friend. And the chilli chips at that place were amazing!

Mina: Oh, I miss those chilli chips. They piled so much cheese on those, you couldn’t see the chilli or the chips!

Lucy: Nothing will ever beat Jackie’s chips. But we could still order some from that new place tonight and eat while we pack.

Mina: Pack for what?

Lucy: Going on a trip?

Mina: No we’re not, I have stuff to do.

Lucy: Yes we are. My mum wants me to come home and visit and I am not leaving you here alone to brood over your long-lost love, far away across the sea. Come on, it’ll be fun! I promise to do one jigsaw puzzle for every party I drag you to.

Mina: I have to hunt for jobs, Lucy.

Lucy: You can do that online.

Mina: And be around in case they like, need an interview or something.

Lucy: It’s only a couple of hours on the train, you can commute.

Mina (consideringly): Did you say, one puzzle per party?

Lucy: Of less than three hundred pieces. I’m willing to comprise, but I haven’t completely given up on life yet.

Mina: There’s no talking you out of this, is there?

Lucy: Nope.

Mina: I’ll get my suitcase.

Lucy: Yes!

Mina: Goodbye listeners, if you don’t hear from me again, I’m probably being held hostage by one of Lucy’s quaint exes.

[Lucy laughs as the credits music begins to play.]

Credits: Murray Mysteries is a Knoves Storytelling production. This episode was written and produced by May Toudic and featured Drew Victorie as Mina Murray and Megan John as Lucy Westerna. Original music by Sophie Kay. Thank you for listening.

#mm transcripts

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velvetgons · 6 years ago

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seunghun as your boyfriend;

seunghun x reader

warnings; hm maybe some swearing but nothing else :)

word count; 3.2k

requested; yes :) the junkyu one is already done and is under my writing// tag!

so what’s seunghun’s vibe i hear u ask? well it’s: ROMANCE

seunghun is the epitome of movie romance boy babey!!

you’d still meet him a very Normal and Generic setting, though

but it would still be super cute and the kind of experience where you think about it later that night and you gotta think ‘did that actually happen??’

i’m thinking a coffee shop because idk i got those chill vibes from seunghun

it’d be this really small niche coffee shop that plays the lo-fi hip-hop radio 24/7 and you only really go there because a. it’s small so there’s not a lot of people and b. the drinks are just so good?? you don’t know what they’re doing to make everything taste five star restaurant worthy but you don’t care!!

and one day you go there just to be chilled out and continue to work your way through the entire menu to test your theory that god himself is making these drinks

but when you’re just sitting and ~chilling~ you hear the door open

n you honestly don’t usually look up because it’ll just be another hipster teenager walking in, which is very valid and you’ve lowkey started to think that hipster fashion is maybe not so bad

(your friends disagree but i mean, who’s actually seeing hipster fashion up close and personal daily??)

but this time ur just like hm wonder who’s coming in today

and oh my god?? you feel like your brain has just short-circuited

there’s this cute ass boy with the softest looking hair wearing an oversized soft jumper walking into the shop with these pretty eyes that are glancing around to observe the space

and your interest is peaked, so you’re paying full attention to him now like godly drink? not important there is the most beautiful man over there and you are about ready to die with how shocked you are

and then he just. gets his coffee and you think he’s gonna turn and leave so you’re :((

but as he about reached the door he turns his head a little and he sees you and he’s like :O

tbh he’d probably actually gasp like yeah that’s seunghun and he’s shocked!

and he wants to walk over to your table but he doesn’t know if you want company or if you want to be left alone

so he’s 365 so stressed and rushes out of the coffee shop because omg he can’t make someone ((and himself)) nervous that’s too much to do in one day

and so now you’re left wondering like?? was that a good shocked face and run away? because that’s definitely not usually a good sign

but you go back the next day as usual except this time you’re waiting for something ((spoiler: it’s seunghun. you went there to see the Cute Boy.))

and tbh you don’t think he’s gonna come back because i mean who gasps and runs out of a building for a good reason

but he does!! and he’s being ‘sly’ okay seunghun trying to check to see if you’re there that day and when he sees you sat there like yesterday he’s so excited

he’s been getting prepped all throughout yesterday and mostly through the night because he didn’t sleep properly

but now he’s ready to go ask if he can sit with you and make nice polite pleasant conversation

forgive him he’s only on phase one of his long-term plan to marry the cute person he saw at the coffee shop

so he gets his coffee and he walks over to you and says in the uwu small text “hello! does anybody sit here or is this seat free?”

and i mean first of all it’s completely unnecessary for him to sit with you like there’s so many free seats

but lowkey yeah you’ve been thinking about him too so you’d say yes

even if there is the slight worry that he might be a serial killer you decide to Take The Chance this one time

and omg as soon as you said yes seunghun could swear his heart did a keyboard smash and then stopped beating for a whole minute

but he takes his seat! and then completely freezes

he just doesn’t know what to say at first :(( he’s worried he’ll say something weird or not say enough to impress you so he just sits quietly and drinks his coffee

but then he sees that you’re wearing this cute lil necklace so he’s like “wowie!! that necklace is super cute :))”

and of course you’d say “omg!! thank you so much!!”

and like tbh. he gets so much confidence from them on. he just takes that one small comments and creates a whole conversation from

he asks where you got the necklace, if you shop there often, if you shop overall often, what other things you like to shop for, what other things you like in general

when it gets to a time that either one of you have to leave, seunghun genuinely wouldn’t want to, and if he had plans he’d check to see if he could cancel them without feeling guilty to spend time with you

but if you had to leave or if he couldn’t cancel his plans he’s gonna be a sad boy

you honestly just feel like you’ve been on a date tbh

so you’d honestly forget the inhibition and be like “aw :(( well it’s okay just give me your number so we can do this again!”

and you only realise when he does the same face he did yesterday that oh whoops maybe you didn’t fully realise that you were saying that

he just makes you feel really comfortable so you honestly forget about things that would’ve made you nervous with other people

but once he recovers from the shock he’d just be like “:] yeah okay that sounds fine with me”

and he just wants to talk to you 24/7!! but he refrains from texting you all the time because he doesn’t want you to end up finding him annoying :-)

tbh though he’d respond to your texts pretty quickly all the time either way? if he’d been talking to you all day, then his responses would take like ten seconds while he typed them out. but if you hadn’t been talking to him at all, his responses would probably still only take fifteen minutes max unless he was busy with something

on that note, he’d tell you whenever he was busy with things so you didn’t ever think he was purposefully ignoring you

and he’d take you out to different coffee shops in an attempt to prove or disprove your theory about the niche lil one you go to

and if you had hobbies like visiting museums or shopping? he’d totally come along with you!!

brings you along on little trips he takes too!! if he’s going to buy something from a store he doesn’t usually go to? guess who he’s inviting!!

tries to make you push him around in the cart to see how long you can go until a staff member tells him to get out (your current record is an hour and twenty-one minutes)

tbh everyone around you would probably think you were dating?? like your friends just assume you’ve told him that you like him already and now you’re just dating

and seunghun’s probably told his friends that he was In Love with you the day he met you, because he firmly believes in soulmates even if he friends don’t

after being close friends with you for like six months you’d probably think it was time to give him a big speech about how you like him as more than just a friend

so you sit him down and give him this whole lengthy rehearsed statement like “first of all, seunghun, i really don’t want to ruin this friendship…”

and by the time you’re done rambling about how much you think he’s amazing and perfect in every way he’s like

“well, i’m really touched, seriously, i’m tearing up a little…” and you’re like :(( he’s trying to let me down gently at least, but then he just goes, “but i thought we were already dating???”

and, first of all, you’re kinda just like ok damn that was seriously unnecessary then huh. but second of all, that’s definitely not bad news!!

so you kinda just laugh n say, “we never agreed that !”

and he’d say “well you know i kinda just assumed :( my bad”

and then you become the meme (you know the one where the guy’s like “that ain’t no problem, that ain’t no problem!” that one)

but anyway! now you have a big babey as your boyfriend so you struck out there

and like. nothing changes? you’d have thought that at least something would change but now he just gets to kiss you!! and that’s about it

seunghun is a hand holding enthusiast, first of all

he loves making you really do really obscure odd things with him that if anyone else asked you to do you’d be like ‘no wtf’

but with seunghun it’s like: go find the strangest most ugly painting in an art store and take a picture of you imitating them mood it portrays? sure that sounds fun! even more fun when you actually buy it!

or maybe he wants to make a scarecrow entirely out of pictures of himself? and you’re just like, “sure, yeah, that sounds like a fun activity”

idk if this is just an english thing or if it’s world-wide but you know like pub knowledge quizzes? he’d make you go to things like that on subjects neither of you have no idea about at all

but he’d also do really cute things with you or for you sometimes :(

like, he’ll buy cards with pretty art or cute cartoons on the front and write you lil short paragraphs about a different aspect of you that he loves

or he’ll get a collection of different flower bouquets and put them all together for you

and he’s not scared to admit it either!! if you bring it up in front of other people’s he doesn’t get embarrassed because that’s his mfing baby!!

gives you about a thousand kisses every day but his favourite kind of kiss is when you give him lil pecks or pepper his cheeks with kisses :)) they make him feel all warm n cuddly n safe

all of his kisses are very sweet and soft for the most part though

and tbh he doesn’t really kiss you for any other reason than a. he knows you like being kissed omg and b. it’s such a cute lil way of showing affection

he also adores having the classic late night conversations

okay but: seunghun loves going outside late at night, he doesn’t care really whether it’s cold or warm but summer nights after a long day are his favourites, and lying or sitting on a blanket with you and having you both go off on different tangents about a thousand different things you’ve been thinking of or that you have an opinion on

for example, his fixation with soulmates

you ask him one of the many times you’re sat outside looking at the stars with him why he’s so obsessed with the concept of soulmates

and he’d kinda just shrug at you and be like “i just really do think they’re real. i really, really believe in them. that’s about it.” and he’s got these big cute eyes that are reflecting the stars and you’re two seconds away from giving him a smooch

but he’s not done!! he’d go on to be like, “well i mean. i did think they were real, but now i know they’re real because i’ve met mine.”

you might cry a lil bit at that. that’s understandable.

but he’s smiling so softly and his eyes are so starry and pretty and he’s like “can i give you a kiss :-)”

and you’re just like :(( yeah, yes pls

you’d realise a while into your relationship that he’d gotten a necklace that matched the one he’d complimented when he first met you too

and when you’d ask him why he’d tell you it was because he wanted a reminder of you and meeting you with him always

if you came to watch him practice or expressed an overt interest in his debut or anything to do with his passion he’d be so happy!! he’d love to explain things to you, or show you new choreographies and songs he was working on

i feel like seunghun’s the type to wanna have lil conversations before bed

he already knows how your day’s been because if he hasn’t been keeping in regular contact with you throughout the day, he’s definitely asked you the second he sees you

he just wants to have another run-down over it so he can comment on stuff more in depth if he hadn’t had the chance before

tells you about his day and discusses how he’s felt about things so he can hear your opinion on them too

omg but you two would definitely spill tea together i mean, if there’s drama in your day? guess who’s getting a text w a tea emoji so he knows you have something to tell him about when you see him in person

and if he sees some stuff go down? he’d probably straight up call you in a bathroom to start telling you the story before he had to rush off to make sure he didn’t miss anything

you two just gossip. you both know everything about everyone. that one girl from your class who sits in the second row and always has to borrow a pencil from someone and you think it’s because she likes someone in the class? he knows about that. he has a theory on that.

we all also know seunghun’s kinda loud right?

because if he’s hyping you up, he’s Hyping You Up

you go out shopping with him and some friends? they’re like “wow that’s a cute shirt!!” but seunghun’s like “you are the most beautiful human being on this planet” (bass boosted)

has two different reactions when you compliment him:

either it’s “omg not here i’m gonna blush and that will so embarrassing for the both of us!!!”

or it’s “thank you for saying my shoes are nice i would die for you :-*”

either way, you’re just like :] of course any-time buddy

onto another topic, seunghun has a range of different pet-names for you

in private it’s like “my angel !! my baby !! my princess !! my lil love-bug cuddle-bug uwu machine wife !!”

but in public it’s like your full name. or maybe ‘babe’ if he’s feeling bold.

he just doesn’t want his friends to tease him because he Knows they would never let him live it down if they heard his nicknames for you

also seunghun seems like the type to leave you audio messages instead of just texting you? especially if he was gonna say something cute because now there can’t be any screenshots

(if u two have tea to spill and have to be apart, you best believe you’re sending each other audio of you laughing or commenting or at the very least giving a dramatic rendition of how arguments happened)

but his normal audio messages are usually just him telling you that he loves you a lot :) and he hopes you have a good day :) and reminders to eat and drink regularly :) and if you ever show this to anyone he’ll fight you >:)

just so you know, play-fighting doesn’t exist with seunghun because the concept is dumb to him

so either you’re wwe fighting or you’re not qualified to fight him

saying that, if you try and tickle him, it’s over. just don’t do it. he will not accept that sort of treachery in his home

funny how he says that and then would also spend a couple of hours cuddling you while you’re wrapped up in blanket so you can ‘feel like you would on a cloud’

the duality!

still makes you do dumb stuff after you start dating though that’s not going away

you wanna go for a walk as soon as the sun starts to rise so you can see the sky change colours and look really pretty? how can you say no to that offer!

he’d do that but then get genuinely concerned when you say you’re tired before at the very least after 5pm

he just doesn’t like the idea of you not being healthy and happy

on this topic, i really don’t think seunghun’s the type to argue? about anything?

he just. he just doesn’t get angry very often tbh. maybe he’d get annoyed with you occasionally but if he has an issue with something you’re doing he’ll just tell you bro he’s not pressed about it

and he really expects you to do the same if it’s something that you seriously don’t like because he won’t be offended by it

he’s a firm believe that you’re both best friends!! you can tell each other anything and nothing comes with negatives if it’s something you need to address with one another!!

like, getting jealous? yeah, he does!! but he’s rational and he knows he can trust you so what’s there to get seriously mad about

and if you get jealous? that’s fine, as long as you know too that he’s serious about how you two are supposed to be able to fully trust one another so you don’t need to be worried about anything

he doesn’t get snappy when he’s tired, he just wants to take a nap and maybe get a cuddle while he does :))) as long as you’re fine with that, he’s not bothered

he’d get quite upset if you snapped at him though, and he’d make sure to tell you whenever you calmed down from your mood that you can just tell him if you’re not in a good place or if you’re tired and he’ll give you your space

he always seems like a person who’s so quick to bounce back from things? and i think he’d like to be able to just rant at you sometimes about how he’s really feeling before he has to rationalise it just so he isn’t bottling anything up

gives you genuine heart eyes when you remind him that it’s okay for him to have normal human emotional reactions to things like everybody else does

tbh seunghun would give you heart eyes all the time :///

i feel like this one’s been shorter than others but i just. i just honestly think dating seunghun would be a really nice pleasant experience?

he’s just such a genuinely good person and has so much he wants to do with you

(he’d probably make a lil bucket list hhhhh)

would probably conclude that he’s definitely gonna marry you from the very moment he first started talking to you tbh

like he would constantly remind you, he firmly believes that you two are actual soulmates, so no problem is too big for the both of you to face in his eyes :((

#sEuNgHuN sEuNgHuN #i love my bAbY #writing//#ygtblbr #ygtb imagines #ygtb scenarios #ygtb reactions #yg treasure box reactions #yg treasure box scenarios #yg treasure box imagines

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fluentlanguage · 6 years ago

Text

9 of the Best Podcasts for Learning English

What would you do if you could easily understand spoken English?

Would you finally watch your favourite films or TV series without worrying so much about subtitles? Maybe you’d be able to travel without feeling anxious or even study abroad in an English-speaking country. Imagine just being able to order a beer at the pub with some new friends, buy a big slice of New York pizza, or attend a BBQ on a beach in Australia.

There are lots of ways understanding English could help you achieve your dreams and finally allow you to feel comfortable during real conversations with native speakers. The only question is: how do you find the time to practice your English listening skills?

Podcasts are a great way to add a little English listening practice into your day-to-day life. They are free, and can accompany any part of your day: driving a car, washing your dishes, doing laundry, working out, reading, and more.

The Fluent Show

In addition to the English podcasts you’ll find in this article, check out the Fluent Show. That’s my own show, co-hosted by Lindsay Williams, where we discuss languages, learning methods, and how to live a multilingual life. Click here to listen and subscribe.

Quick Primer: How Do Podcasts Work?

If you're curious about podcasts, but not quite sure how they work, here's what you need to know:

You can subscribe for free to podcasts on your phone, tablet, or computer.

If you use an Apple computer, iPhone or iPad, go to the Podcasts app. If you're on a Mac that does not have the Podcasts app, use the iTunes directory.

On a PC or Android device, try the Stitcher app for a quick and easy start.

Subscribing means you'll always have the latest episode ready and waiting for you as soon as it's published.

The 9 Best English Podcasts for English Learners

In this article, you’ll find:

British English Podcasts

American English Podcasts

Podcasts with both British and American English

English Video Resources

Story-Based Shows and Business English Podcasts

A Special Tip for Advanced Learners

British English Podcasts

Culips ESL Podcast

The Culips ESL Podcast is great for upper beginners who want to improve their English listening skills. The Simplified Speech series offers discussions on a number of cultural topics recorded at a slower speed for learners. Similarly, the Speak Easy series explores pronunciation tips for common issues, such as word endings.

All podcasts also offer downloadable study guides for each episode to help you out.

Luke’s English Podcast

Luke’s English Podcast covers topics you likely won’t find in an English textbook. With over 500 episodes on British culture, comedy, expressions, and more, there’s plenty for upper intermediate and advanced learners to choose from.

Luke speaks clearly and provides notes for each episode, including vocabulary. There are also a number of episodes that have complete transcripts.

American English Podcasts

Conversations with Kate

If you’re after real conversations about interesting topics rather than language lessons, Conversations with Kate is a great resource. Host Kate invites both native and non-native English speakers from around the world as guests to help learners become familiar with different accents as well as learn about people, language, and travel.

You can also access full transcripts, lesson guides, vocabulary, and expressions by signing up on the website, giving you even more opportunities to study and understand each episode.

All Ears English Podcast

Looking to improve both your business English and your everyday English? All Ears English Podcast covers business topics as well as English grammar, expressions, American culture, and even IELTS (International English Language Testing System) specific topics.

The website also has short summaries for each episode. Subscribers can also get access to full transcripts.

British and American English Podcasts

EnglishClass101

EnglishClass101 from InnovativeLanguage covers everything from basic through advanced English. The episodes are exciting and immersive. You’ll easily find a large variety of topics, including both American and British culture, idioms, and even business-related episodes.

The dialogues are presented by engaging hosts in a clear, concise way covering many grammatical features and cultural topics. On the website you can sign up for premium content to access spaced repetition flashcards, PDF lesson notes, and a community forum.

English Across The Pond

Co-hosts Dan and Jennifer offer an entertaining way for you to get more comfortable with both British and American English. In addition to discussing vocabulary, grammar, expressions, and cultural topics, each episode is also followed by a short, in-depth focus on vocabulary or grammar points related to the episode.

You can also choose to sign up for membership access to get full transcripts, study plans, and additional learning resources every week.

English Video Resources

Yabla

Yabla is a video-based learning platform with bilingual subtitles and integrated dictionaries. The subtitles are interactive, which is a really cool concept! Check out how Yabla works in detail by reading my full review.

Yabla is great for all levels from basic to advanced. There is a free English podcast available with plenty of videos to watch.

Story-Based and Business English Podcasts

BBC Learn English

This podcast series from the British Council follows conversations that take place between hosts Tess, Ravi, and their guests as well as the activities of a fictional student, Carolina. These episodes on on the longer side, ranging from 20 to 35 minutes, but they’re split up into sections so you can pause if you need to.

Complete transcripts are available for each episode. Plus, the website offers short quizzes to test your comprehension and practice exercises.

Business English Pod

For those who are motivated to improve their English for business reasons, Business English Pod covers everything from sales and communication to presentations and job interviews.

Episodes are easy to understand and contain an explanation of the topic along with some cultural tips. These explanations are followed by conversational dialogues as well as explanation and practice sections. Members can also access PDF transcripts, online quizzes, and additional lessons.

Advanced Learner Tip: Native English Podcasts

English learners who are looking for something a bit more interesting and immersive might prefer to check out podcasts intended for native speakers. If that’s the case, try searching through popular English podcasts for something that sparks your interest, like true crime podcasts, TED Talks, or podcasts that keep you up-to-date on pop culture.

There are also a few public radio stations that offer apps you can explore, including BBC Sounds, SBS On Demand, and NPR. These apps offer a wide variety of English podcasts to make your search a bit easier.

#reviews #podcasts #9 of the best #listening skills #English

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jencala · 7 years ago

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But hey, how about them recs??? 😏😏

LOL I’ll rec you what I’ve been following and have read lately. Funny enough they are all Muggle Au’s. I’ve been on somewhat of a kick lately. They’re all excellent, some are complete and the ones that are WIP’s are updating frequently and totally worth a read.

Twelve Things by Mianck: @ourtwosoulsarethesame When Remus Lupin visits the Evans' beach house for the summer, all he wants to do is relax and forget about his past. When he meets Sirius Black, he realizes he will get to do neither of those things.

here's to never growing up by elixirsoflife: A group chat documents the lives of four highly dramatic teenage boys as they navigate their A Levels.Or, like, die trying.

Lost to Yourself by OfALaurel: Sirius Black writes gay porn for a skin mag, and meets Remus Lupin, who does professional readings (audio recordings) of his fictions, and there is flirting, and courting, and love over narratives, cds, and fictionality.

He’s blinding but you can’t look away by JaguarCello: Remus Lupin - new English teacher, wearer of extraordinary jumpers, pub quiz winner - and Sirius Black - ill-articulated scandulous past, wearer of leather jackets, Physics teacher - are going to have quite a year. Lily Evans has given James Potter a quest, and it won't be easy: to coach the football team to some sort of victory, to put on an incredible school play, and to get the best results from his History class that the school has ever seen. Peter Pettigrew just wants to make cakes and do some colouring in, really. His Geography class couldn't even tell you which bit of the volcano is the top. Snape wants to see death and destruction and mayhem, and also to finally destroy James Potter once and for all.There is Arthurian romance, pub quizzes, kisses, bad singing on tables, far too many highlighters, and lots of alcohol. Maybe a little true love, not that Remus believes in that any more.

Mountain View by NachoDiablo: @wolfstarhq Sequel to Palo Alto, so you should probably read that first. Or at least read the last few chapters, RIP.It's been four years since Sirius and Remus got their shit together. James and Lily aren't doing too shabby, either. Things are going great.Sure, James still hasn't gotten any of his business ideas off the ground quite yet. And yeah, Lily's still not ready to move in with James, even though she spends every night at his place. And okay, Remus might be starting to freak a little about whether his PhD is going to land him in some no-name wasteland town for a job. And fine, Sirius has stalled out a bit since he left work to pursue his dreams of... well, to find a dream to pursue.Regardless. Things are great. Very chill.That is, until a family tragedy brings an adorable bundle of responsibility into their lives.

#fic recs #Wolfstar #love them all #check these out if you haven't read them #and don't forget to review if you do!#we writers thrive on feedback #Anonymous

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whitedreadlocks · 6 years ago

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Blog Post #11 The Flight.

Name: White Dreadlocks

Location: Seat 15B flight KL1687, somewhere probably over an ocean or something.

Occupation: soon to start.

Date: 12.09.2018

This is where I’m located while scribbling this passage in a tatty old notebook, but this is not where I’ll be when you’re reading it. (Now I’m typing up and editing, this sentence feels like a lie, but I promise at the time it was 100% true.) It’ll take some time to type up and edit, (see there you go) but the little precursor above every one of my posts is useful for moments like this. I very much feel as though I am living completely when I’m craning my neck to stare out of the window from my middle-seated position. Soon, I will hopefully be settled in Spain. (I am! I also promise that I will not use this time-bending device again, because it’s confusing me more than anyone else.) ((Much promising in this blog-post! Must make sure I fulfil all of these.))

After a few lovely days in Holland I’m starting a teaching job in Spain, ready for the usual, new ‘adventures’ to begin. To be honest, the next few days will probably be a lot of training, paperwork, and buying kitchen stuff, so I’ll try and drip-feed my eager three followers some stuff about Amsterdam until then. I’m going to attempt to keep this updated weekly for the sake of having something to work towards. After all, what do you do when you have an MA in creative writing and no professional or project to channel your effort into? Bother the internet, naturally!

There’s a lot to say about Holland but maybe after I’ve exhausted those four days, I can travel around more beautiful European countries and find something else to write about. Maybe, I’ll tour round Spain until I’m an expert on the place. Maybe I’ll keep taking pictures of that same beach in Santurtzi while continuing to pretend I’m a travel blog. Who knows? My aspirations often outrun the capabilities of my bank account as you’ll see if you scroll down and look at China.

I know now, though, that I’m ready for a fresh start. I can tell that from the way I find excuses to shower nine times a day. I’ve wanted to wash off this layer of skin for a while now, and the best way to do that, short of a scouring pad, is to get somewhere where you feel totally new. I’m ready for messy, uncomfortable, tourist hell over dull, comfortable, citizenship now. I will miss the double-bed, the cat, the family, the pub quizzes, but hopefully not too much. Hopefully, the excitement will outweigh it.

This is the time to laugh at miscommunication and lost luggage, to embrace to total and utter uncertainty. That being said, if it’s shite, I’ll do my four months as specified by my contract and then move home again. After all, this is white dreadlocks, the obnoxious, privileged, white girl’s answer to traveling. I’m always gonna be reet.

Same rules apply, there will be total, unflinching honesty, acknowledgements of middle-class privilege, and oversharing to the max. Unsurprisingly, I still have no shame.

Yours faithfully,

White Dreadlocks

Inspirational Quote of the week: Remember, wherever you are right now is exactly where you’re supposed to be. I mean, some people are in Bali on a beach doing yoga but I’m sure you’re supposed to be in bed still.

#travel #blog #spain

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shamanasinde · 4 years ago

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i-D Magazine: How do I get a Clubhouse invite?

2021 is an introvert's paradise and an extrovert's nightmare. We exist in a dystopian reality where most social gatherings are illegal, and you'd rightfully face a three-figure fine for attending a house party. Since we can barely leave our homes to socialise, you'd think FOMO would have died out by now. Aside from influencers doing "essential work" in Dubai, our Instagram feeds are filled with humble and homely content. Beyoncé's internet is officially the only safe space for socialising, which means screen times are skyrocketing.

Video platforms have certainly dominated lockdown. In March 2020 alone, House Party, the momentarily popular video-chat app, was downloaded 17 million times, while Tiktok, an app that's hard to imagine not being a part of our daily lives, was downloaded a staggering 115 million times. Recent figures show Zoom – predominantly for meetings, but also the new frontier for pub quizzes – hosts around 300 million daily meetings, compared to just 10 million in December 2019. However, the latest lockdown phenomenon may be one you've heard of but aren't quite sure how to get into.

Clubhouse is an audio-only social media. It's like a live podcast that anyone can participate in, even while using other apps simultaneously. Like Twitter has a feed, Clubhouse has a 'hallway' filled with user-created virtual rooms on any chosen topic. Users can drop in and out of rooms to listen as an audience member or join the virtual 'stage' to share their opinions. Unlike Zoom, where there's pressure to look camera-ready or ignite ire for leaving your camera off, Clubhouse feeds the desire to be heard without ever needing to be seen. (Kind of like a phone call, remember those?)

When it launched back in early 2020, Clubhouse had less than 5,000 test users and a single room where they could casually chat with founders Rohan Seth and Paul Davison. In mid-May, Forbes reported that the app had received a $100 million valuation. Almost nine months later, it is now worth $1 billion, has hit two million weekly users and, in December, was met with Twitter's swiftly-launched rival audio service, Spaces. In short, if you're not on the app already, then what are you waiting for?

Discover the full article on i-D Magazine

#online #digital #clubhouse

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weshallc · 5 years ago

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BERNS NIGHT: CHAPTER THREE.

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

A Call the Midwife AU in the Crown Jewels Series.

Chapter Three: OF MICE AND MEN

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why isn’t he here?” asked Bobby.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This was met with a very large and unanimous cheer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Lady K?” Phyllis queried.

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

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

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

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

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

“Sgian dubh,” corrected Vi.

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

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

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

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

“Cock a what?” shouted up Jack.

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

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

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

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

Murmurs of approval were aimed in Violet’s direction.

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

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

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

“Piper!” Several people groaned at once.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know a piper.”

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

“Do we, Jane?” Julia asked.

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

Everyone started talking at once;

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He’s rather good, as I remember.”

Jane was beaming as she nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Kevin.”

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

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

“Apart from Dad.” groaned Tim.

Followed by an echo of sighs.

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

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

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