#turnadette au

[miss-ute]

[deepdowninmybones]

Can't stop thinking that in my Call the Midwife AU universe, today should be Julie Turner's birthday 🎉🎂🥲👑😌

Happy birthday to my beautiful girl 🥰

[bekkalynne]

can nuns have cell phones?

I feel like if you have a vow of poverty, you couldn’t and it would just be a landline at the convent.

but also, imagine the wild things Sister Monica Joan could send in a group chat if someone taught her in her more lucid moments. Sister Evangelina using all caps. Sister Julienne, phrasing her texts as if she was sending a letter because it seems more proper. Sister Winifred uses way too many emojis.

*cough* Sister Bernadette secretly listening to secular music *cough*

[clonethemidwife]

ok. so. au number 3 (tattoo shop au) is now complete! i do have some bonus content that’s not written but to which i am not opposed to writing should you all want that.

but let’s talk about the behemoth mother of all fics: the church au.

i love this au and it would go on indefinitely if i let it, however there are other things i would also like to write, so… i have to figure out how to wrap this up. my question is: would you all prefer a fuller picture of life with fr and mrs turner with some time jumps or a shorter term happy ending that leaves the future open to interpretations? I can write either (but i won’t write both). please let me know. you can also feel free to send me a message 😃

[queenkenzo24]

Hey guys, I’m thinking of writing a marriage of convenience turnadette AU, but I’m so nervous about doing it right. I haven’t done a multi-chapter fic in so long. I’m thinking I might start with a one-shot version just to test the waters and see if it does well. What do you guys think? Are you interested in seeing something like this?

[lillywhitefield]

Lilly Whitefield's Fanfiction Masterlist

Bridgerton

WIPs

The Christmas Cake-Off

Colin Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington, Rated T (for now 😈), Christmas, librarian!Penelope, cake decorating competition, Hallmark movie vibes

A Poison Tree

Colin Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington, Rated Explicit, Regency, Marriage, Learning to be friends again, falling in love, Angst, only one bed

Made of Honor: A Polin Love Story

Colin Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington, Rated Mature, Modern AU, based on Made of Honor, written with Vertraymer

Twelve Years, One Night

Colin Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington, Rated Teen (for now), Modern AU, Six Days Seven Nights

Complete

Penelope Needs to Know

Colin Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington, Rated Explicit, Modern AU, Love Confession, Size Kink, Smut

Why Don't You Say So, Colin?

Colin Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington, Rated Mature, Modern AU, Love Confession, Masturbation

Summer Afternoons

Colin Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington, Rated Explicit, Regency, PWP, Married Sex, Basically One-shots

Chapter 1: In their rooms

Chapter 2: By the pond

Chapter 3: In the library

All's Fair in Love and Pall Mall

Colin Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington, Rated Explicit, PWP, One-shot, Married Sex, Sexual Frustration

Baby, It's Cold Outside

Colin Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington, Rated Explicit, Pregnant Sex, One-shot

They've Been Feelin' Freaky Deaky

Colin Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington, Rated Explicit, One-shot, Valentine's Day date night

Kissing the Kettledrums

Colin Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington, Rated Mature, Masturbation, Fantasizing, Shame

Switch It Up

Colin Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington, Rated Explicit, BDSM, Dom Pen

In His Wildest Fantasies

Benedict Bridgerton/Lord Fife, Cressida Cowper/Lord Fife, minor Polin, Rated Explicit, Angst, a lot of it, also M/M and F/F and M/F, unrequited love, marriage of convenience

Lilly Whitefield's Polin Week 2023 Series

Colin Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington, All Ratings, Check tags for prompts/tropes

Polin Month 2023, Ed Sheeran Edition

Colin Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington, All Ratings, Check tags for prompts/tropes

Romancing Captain Bridgerton

Colin Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington, Rated Explicit, Regency, Sailor/Mermaid AU

you are impossible

Colin Bridgerton/Penelope Feathertington, Rated Mature, Diet Smut, Songfic, LW Aftermath

Come With Me

Agatha Danbury/Lord Ledger, Rated Explicit, no PIV but I swear it's hot

Bloodlust

Colin Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington, Rated Explicit, Vampires, Blood Drinking/Eating/Licking, Seriously check the tags plz

It Was a Graveyard Smash

Colin Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington, Various Ratings, Check Tags, One-Shot Collection, Halloween

Love in Bloom

Colin Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington, Rated Explicit, Sex Pollen, One-Shot, Greenhouse Sex, Mild dubcon but only because it's sex pollen i swear they are both very into it

Santa Baby

Colin Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington, Rated Explicit, Christmas, Colin is Santa, Pen looks hot, very unserious

Call the Midwife

WIPs

None atm

Complete

I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus

Turnadette, Rated Explicit, Fluff, Christmas, Couch Sex

may God hold you in the hollow of his hand

Turnadette, Rated T, Hurt/Comfort, Grief

When I Fall In Love, It Will Be Completely

Turnadette, Rated Mature, First Date

Talking

Turnadette, Rated Explicit, PWP, Married Sex

[a-tardis-at-downton]

Alright, my lovely Turnadette people! I want to begin writing for our two lovely Turners, but I'm not sure where to begin.

That said, I'd love to begin accepting prompts! I'm only in S8 right now, but will be wrapping up the available episodes on Netflix (U.S.) sometime this week or next. It's about time I stretched my writing skills and accepted some prompts!

Let me know if there's something you'd like written! I'm willing to write AUs, missing scenes, etc.

[procrastinatingalways]

Chapter 3 of What Happens in Vegas, my modern AU Turnadette is up. I am sorry that this one is angsty but that will be fixed soon. Also this is probably the most Trixie filled chapter so I had to use her in the image.

[thatginchygal]

I LOVE your fics. I just finished CTM in an embarrassingly short amount of time and then powered through all the completed fics on A03. I don't know if you take prompts but there was something about one of your fics where I thought "what if Shelagh was on the train? What would have happened?" I don't know if you take prompts but if you do I would love your take on it.

Regardless, I adore your writing and can't wait to see what is next for you. Thanks!

Hi! Thanks so much!! I really appreciate your kind words. 🥰 And I’m so glad you found and enjoyed CtM and Turnadette!! I hadn’t thought about that particular AU idea (Shelagh on the train as she should have been—except in a sense of survivor type guilt in that one fic) but it’s an interesting one. I’ll see if I can come up with a little ficlet about it soon. In the meantime, I’m (slowly) working on a post-ep ‘expand-it’ fic for the finale. Thanks again and hope to see you around Tumblr!! 💕😁

[weshallc]

Berns Night.

So we’ve had a lot of birthdays @thatginchygal @rahleeyah @wednesdaygilfillian (sorry I missed that one) @roguesnitch coming up and @ilovemushystuff is celebrating too! and @h4t08 finally joined Tumblr and @clonethemidwife has returned and there are lots of new folk. Sooo I felt like throwing a party and there ain’t nothing like a Crown Inn party!!!!

This was supposed to be a Crown Stoppy Back but had other ideas so I will post the first chapter tonight as people are still recovering from Burns Night. Don’t worry if you are not familiar with the Burns Night traditions they will be explained more in chapter two. Probably 3 in all. We shall see as they say!

As always, I would be lost without @lovetheturners endless patience and thanks to @roguesnitch for encoraging me. This is dedicated to the most bonniest of lads I hope you had a great birthday and Burns Night with the Bard himself this year😉😘🤗 

CHAPTER ONE: FAIR FA’ YOUR HONEST, SONSIE FACE

“Fair fa' your honest, sonsie face, Great chieftain o' the pudding-race! Aboon them a' ye tak your place, Painch, tripe, or thairm : Weel are ye wordy o'a grace As lang's my arm.”  Address to a Haggis by Robert Burns 1786.

Monday 25th January 2016

“His knife see rustic Labour dight, An' cut you up wi' ready sleight, Trenching your gushing entrails bright, Like ony ditch; And then, O what a glorious sight, Warm-reekin', rich!”

The room was swept in darkness apart from the light of the wolf moon and the north star penetrating the cold window panes. All eyes were facing towards a wooden table and the elderly man stood behind it. He was in his 60s and wiry, small for a man, but with a silver mess of what once must have been a bonnie head of fire red hair. The body may have looked weak, but the intensity in his bright blue eyes cut through the dimly lit surroundings.

As he spoke again, his voice filled the room, cut through the anticipating silence. It was a voice that could take a knife and slice right through a soul. The knife in his hand in turn sliced through the offering in front of its high priest. Years of performing the same action with such a passion resulted in precision. The faithful entranced by the spectacle all gasped as one as the incision was violently made. No one daring to speak. Suddenly the trance was lost as artificial light rudely brought everyone back to the present with a blast of the pipes.

“All done then Reverend Mannion? Can I serve the Haggis now? Don’t want it getting cold now do we, not at £15 a head.”

“Aye, Violet the ceremony is over, it’s time for eating and drinking something the bard would have approved of, rightly so.”

The kilted clergyman winked at an auburn-haired girl in the crowd and tipped his whisky tumbler toward her. She raised her own glass and winked back. Her companion at her table was much taller with dark hair styled in a tidy no-nonsense bob.

The tall one leaned toward the small one and asked, “If it’s already dead, why does he have to kill it?”

“What?”

“The Haggis if it’s already dead why does he have to kill it?”

Her friend opened her mouth to speak, but she saw a tender hand take hold of Chummy’s arm and explain it was all just ceremony, it was tradition.

“Like all that malarkey at our passing out parade, the day we got our badge. That wasn’t about police work, was it? It’s just tradition.  It’s what the English do well.”

He had been doing really well up until then, but a golden raised eyebrow made him alter his stance. “It is what us Brits do best.”

The raised eyebrow whispered to the police constable. ”Peter, Chummy really doesn’t think a haggis is a real animal, does she?”

He was not the kind of man that would turn heads, but he had a kindness in his eyes and an openness in his face that she thought some would see as attractive. If only Camilla wasn’t his superior, and they didn’t work such long hours together, what might have been?

She knew her friend well and sensed more queries would follow. Not sure as a Scot brought up on Tweavenside and now living in London she could provide satisfying answers. Picking up their empty glasses and heading to the bar was a strange sort of refuge for a vicar's daughter and inner-city missionary.

There was a queue well sort of a queue. In London a queue was made up of people standing in an orderly line and the person who had been stood the longest getting served first. In Poplar-on-Tweaven it resembled more of a rugby scrum and the person who shouted the loudest being ignored and anyone who called the barmaid by name being bunked up the order. She wasn’t familiar with busy bars but she was bright enough to work out the system.

“Val, when yer ready hen.” The request came from someone not sure that was their own voice they had just heard yelling those words.

All her life she had been immersed in the wonders of the Bible and was still amazed at how so many miracles had been performed. She had heard all the CPR arguments regarding resurrections and all that, and was still not convinced. But she now knew how Moses had parted the Red Sea, he had known the barmaid’s name was Valerie.

“What can I get you, chick?”

“Here! I was first.” A grumpy voice struck up.

“Oh Al, you are always first. Let me serve this lass and then I will sort you out”

“Promises, promises.”

“Yeah in your dreams, pal.”

She was starting to feel uncomfortable she hadn’t meant to jump the queue. Maybe she should go back to the table and let Peter get the drinks. A man’s voice interrupted her thoughts, it was quieter than Al’s but held an authority. It wasn’t a Tweavenside accent, but it had a northern softness.

“You serve our impatient friend Valerie, I will see to this young lady.” Then turning to his new customer, “What can I get you, pet”

“Erm a whisky and lemonade and erm a pint, please.”

“Which whisky and a pint of?”

She wasn’t sure; she nudged her bottom onto a vacant stool for security.

“Are you with the law?” The tall bartender nodded towards Chummy and Peter,

“Yes, yes I am.”

“OK, so that’s a Grouse and diet lemonade, just a dash and a pint of Buckles Best

and for you?”

He stepped back a minute. “Your Reverend Wilf’s daughter?”

“Yes, I am.” Bernie suddenly felt more sure of herself. She was never completely certain of who she was when back in Poplar

“Bernadette?” The stranger was grinning now, his brown eyes glinting under the harsh bar spotlights, or were they green?

“Well, that’s my Sunday name most people call me Bernie, even Dad.”

“Well, since I’ve never seen you in here on a Sunday or any other day. I will call you Bernie. I am Patrick Turner, most people call me Paddy, a few Doc.”

“Oh no, you won’t have seen me here on a Sunday or any other day. I live in London now and before that, well I am not a big drinker.”

“What can I get you then?” asked Paddy loitering near the coke and lemonade pumps.

“A gin and tonic please, better make it a double it’s quite busy, save me coming back.”

Paddy smiled. “Premium gin?”

“Yes.”

While the optic was emptying into the glass, he asked, “You must have known this old place when Evie ran it?”

“Yes, I know Evie and J..Jenny”

“Oh yes. Jen was here when me and the wife took over she was a great help. We get a text every now and again, doing well for herself now all loved up.” He winked at her as he ended the sentence causing her to panic slightly.

“I was sorry to hear about your loss.” She wished she hadn’t said it.

Val had seemed to deal with ten customers to Paddy’s one and now there was just the two of them alone at the bar. He looked at her in a sort of a non-direct, sort of direct way, under that infuriating fringe she wanted to reach out and push back.

“Loss is as much a part of love as is healing,” he replied with a hint of melancholy but without irony.

She was stunned and tried to find a corresponding Bible verse, but she drew a blank.

She focused on what was real and what was present, her dad had taught her to do that. What was in front of her at this precise moment was a glass of gin and ice and a twist of lime. He was now unscrewing a bottle of Mediterranean slimline tonic.

She yelped, “No!” as he lay the bottle alongside the glass.

“Sorry most people add the tonic to the gin and I cannae bear it drowned.”

“Wouldn't dream of it surely that would be very presumptuous of me.”

“Aye well, most people I've met are very presumptuous.”

“Maybe you have spent too much time in London. if you don't mind me saying, Bernie.”

“Well, to be fair we don’t spend a lot of time sitting on stools and propping up bars in my part of London.”

“More's the pity.”

“Can I bother you for a...”

Paddy popped a black straw into her tumbler.

“I will make sure when you come home next time none of my staff will be presumptuous.”

“Oh, I doubt you will remember me, Paddy. I only come up to see my Da. I can't imagine you will be seeing much of me in the future, hardly likely that I would ever be considered a regular.”

“Now who is being presumptuous?”

Bernie went to put the straw between her lips but paused, realizing the stranger was still watching her. She suddenly felt uncomfortable. As heat rose in her cheeks and she suddenly felt awkward on the stool, squirming to find some sort of comfortable position. The stranger smiled in a way she could not understand; it wasn’t smug or suggestive, but as if there were sharing a joke, but she wasn’t sure what the joke was.

She hopped off her seat, for a brief moment realizing her arse was in the air and prayed he had altered his gaze. Focusing anywhere but behind the bar she grabbed her glass and bottle in one hand, put the whisky against her elbow and waist, the pint in her other hand, turned and swiftly moved toward her thirsty friends.

Shelagh Bernadette Mannion don’t you dare look back and see if he is watching you he is recently widowed with a son, Da said. He is, what do they call them now, a bloomer or something like that. God has shown you his path for you and it certainly does not include the Crown Inn, Poplar-on-Tweaven.

He is still watching me, I can feel it.

[bbcshipper]

Happy Valentine’s Day!!!  <3

So I meant to post this earlier as a Valentine’s treat, but the kiddos had no school today so, well, life got crazy. But better late than never!  :)  I hope you enjoy chapter 6!  Thanks again to @weshallc for reading through it for me!

[miss-ute]

[deepdowninmybones]

I'm new in Turnadette world, but these two have work some magic on me.

Here is my first CtM fan-fiction...it's a Multi-chapter AU story starting during 12x05 (since the link is not working...we're going old-school: copy and paste...here below!)

For all those who wanted that test to be positive 💖

A SPECIAL THANKS TO @miss-ute THAT ENCOURAGED ME TO DIVE IN THIS ADVENTURE.

Everything is just as ought to be

Chapter 1 - Shall we open it?

Mid September

He came home late that night, still upset about Spencer Wray's story.

The lights were off, the house was quiet. He was tired, but he needed to let go of the flow of thoughts that had invested him in the last few days.

He sat at the table, in the dark, the smell of the stew that Shelagh made for dinner still in the air. He really needed moments like that, soothing his senses and stop being Dr Turner to get into the shoes of the man Patrick Turner, the husband, the father. He sighed with a half smile, realizing that truth to be told, that side of him had no less thoughts than his professional alter ego.

The husband... of his Shelagh. God, how he loved that woman! So petite but so extraordinarily strong, delicate and bold at the same time (oh so much bold sometime…). They'd been married for ten years now, but he hadn't still finished wondering how much he loved her.

That woman who only a few days before had stormed into the Maternity Home, demanding to speak to him in private. He knew right away that it was serious... and it really was. He barely had time to close the door of his office and sit down when Shelagh blurted:

"I'm pregnant, again."

And then…there was Patrick, the father.

Timothy's father, his 20-year-old son who had been involved and quite shocked by the consequences of schizophrenia of the young Wray. His first born, everyday more and more like him, physically and temperamentally, who was growing into a young man and at the same time was also beginning to face the dark side of the medical profession.

Angela's father, his angel girl, to whom they would sooner rather than later have to disclose her whole story... reveal her about the special way she became part of their unique family.

May's father, who he loved so much that he was breathless at the thought that at any moment someone could come and tear her from their lives.

Teddy's father, their miracle, so like Shelagh in features and so like to him in character. A little rascal that with his funny faces could always make them smile, but at the same time a very sensitive and attentive kid, especially to his sisters and his mommy.

And...

He couldn't help it, the thought of a new baby possibly joining their family filled him with joy. He hadn't hesitated for a moment to be happy about it, not even when Shelagh had taken it out on him, her voice broken by tears, saying she was afraid she wouldn't make it because she was too old and too tired, that the house wasn't big enough, that they might not be enough. Of course they'll be enough! They will always be enough!

The sound of footsteps descending the stairs roused him from his thoughts. He knew those footsteps very well. He looked up and saw her coming down, wrapped in her blue robe.

"I couldn't sleep. The results of the test has arrived today…but I didn't open the envelope yet."

"I couldn't sleep either. You weren't in bed and I missed you" said her, going down the last few steps.

"Come here," he invited her with a smile, extending his hand towards hers than he kissed softly the back of her hand.

That gentle hand of his was her refuge and protection. Of course she was still scared (terrified to be honest) of what could happen from now on, but she knew deep down her heart that with him by her side she could face any storm, they had already done it in the past. They did it every day. They would do it again, no matter what.

She sat on the other side of the table, grabbed his other hand. They looked into each other's eyes, smiling tenderly.

"So…Shall we open it?" asked him.

"Oh Patrick, what if…"

"Shelagh, whatever the result, we will face it and we'll be fine."

He put his right hand in his jacket, taking off the envelope. She got up from the chair, approaching him. Patrick made her sit on his lap. They opened it together, their hands trembling, then Shelagh pulled out the sheet of paper with the result stamped from the lab.

In the center, typed, in capital letters well marked, there was written POSITIVE.

"Oh Patrick!…a baby.." stated Shelagh in a whisper

"A baby…" echoed Patrick, smiling.

"Am I allowed to be scared?"

"Shelagh, darling…you can, of course. But do know that everything is just as ought to be, because we have everything a family could want." reassured her by holding her in a warm embrace.

After a moment of silence, he softly added "And am I allowed to be happy?"

His question drew a smile on her face.

"Of course you can. I know you are happy. And I want you to know that, despite all my fears, I am too."

Overwhelmed by the emotions, they head to their bedroom still holding hands.

Once slipped into bed, they spent a few more minutes in each other arms, enjoying the moment. Before falling asleep Patrick whispered in her ear "Once more, we did it against all the odds my love".

[bekkalynne]

the chaise lounge scene but it’s the Turnadette AU in my head

[clonethemidwife]

I just got kudos on another old AU so what I’m getting is that y’all want me to finish my Turnadette AUs.

Yes?

I had started researching another really good historical AU but I never started writing it because I couldn’t get the other AUs wrapped up. So maybe pester me about that so I can share it with you???

[queenkenzo24]

I think tonight I’m going to try to start writing my marriage of convenience turnadette AU and I just wanted some input. When I first thought of this idea, I thought of it as a modern AU, but now I realize it could also work as a 50s/60s timeline fic too. I know how I’d get Shelagh living there and in a position to want to get married in a modern situation, but I also realize it’s a lot more normal to live with someone without being married now a days. I just can’t think of a situation to get Shelagh to move to poplar and be willing to marry Patrick for a 50s/60s situation. Please let me know what you’d prefer and if you can think of an excuse for Shelagh to move across the country for the 50s/60s one. I’m really excited for this though.