thisbluespirit: (b7 - dayna)
[personal profile] thisbluespirit
Welcome to the Obscure & British comment fest V! Last year didn't happen for various reasons, but it is now back. And it would be wearing a hat if it could. \o/

This is a comment fest for any tiny/small(ish)/medium(ish) British fandom and open to all fanworks.

If you've ever loved any British fandoms, find yourself too obscure for most fests, or you're busy wondering why there's still no Emma Peel in all this Avengers stuff, you're in the right place. Come on in and help yourself to a cup of tea and a crumpet. Also you should make prompts and fill them.

Rules & Guidelines
This commentfest works in the same way as most comment ficathons, although all kinds of fanworks are welcome. (Fanart, icons, fanmixes, vids, or whatever your creative mind can come up with or prompt for.) Just leave your prompt and/or browse through other people's prompts to see what you can fill.

1. Be polite - no bashing or shaming of anyone, or any prompts, characters, ships or fandoms! Thank you.

2. One prompt per post, please use format: Fandom(/Fandom), Character(s)/Pairing(s), prompt (i.e "Spooks, Tom/Ruth, apocalypse AU"). You may repost prompts from previous years (or even from elsewhere, as long as that's okay with the other fest/comm/whatever).

3. Post fills as replies (or links in replies) to the comment containing the prompt. Please format the subject line as follows: Fandom - Character(s)/Pairing(s) - Ratings/Warnings (if included). There's a fills thread at the start of the post. Please also link your fill here, if you can. (I will also start up a masterlist post as soon as we have some fills.)

4. You may fill your own prompts if you wish, and multiple fills are more than welcome. (No prompt claiming, please.)

5. For crossovers any fandom is allowed as long as the first fandom qualifies. (If it's a cracky multi-fandom crossover prompt, that's fine, too, though try and make sure there are always equal or more eligible fandoms in proportion to those that are non-eligible.)

6. Any other questions - there's a questions thread at the start of the post if there's anything else you want to ask.

7. Prompt, fill, away!

Eligible Fandoms
Basically, any rare to small/medium British fandom, no matter how odd, old, obscure, non-existent, random or how shiny and new or in what medium - anything that's not on the below list is fine. (Definitions of British are also fairly wide and hand-wavy - check on the questions thread if you're not sure.)

Non-eligible fandoms
ALL non-British fandoms are ineligible and the following fandoms are British but too large and therefore ineligible for this fest (although don't forget that you can prompt for any fandom as a crossover with an eligible fandom):

Chronicles of Narnia (all), Doctor Who (2005+), Downton Abbey, Harry Potter, The Hobbit (all), James Bond (Craig!Bond films), The Kingsman films, Lord of the Rings (all), Merlin, The Musketeers (BBC), One Direction, Primeval, Sherlock (BBC), The Silmarillion, Torchwood.

(RPF is welcome. Please use specific categories when prompting (e.g. history by century, and all actor/bandom RPF by individual series/film/band or whatever grouping seems most appropriate. In the spirit of the fest, please try and avoid RPF for non-eligible shows/v. popular actors like Tom Hiddleston & Benedict Cumberbatch, but as they turn up in less popular film/TV RPF, that's a guideline, not a rule.)

There's no closing date for prompts or fills - the fest will stay open until next year's post goes up. Once you've created a fill, you're welcome to crosspost it anywhere you like. (If you're posting to AO3, there's no collection for the fest, but there is an "Obscure & British Commentfest" tag you can use if you want.)

If you want to promote the fest, then thank you! Please do. You can find a selection of banners ready made with code here and rebloggable tumblr posts here, here, here, here, here, here, and here.

You can find the previous fest (2016) here. Also: O&B 2015, O&B 2014 and O&B 2013. If you want to fill or repost a previous prompt, you may, although please also post to the fills thread on the current post.

ETA: The fills post is here

For those who don't have an Dreamwidth account or prefer to remain anonymous, anon commenting is on.
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Date: 8 May 2018 05:19 pm (UTC)
stranger: Orpheus as Sun, with Lyre (Orpheus)
From: [personal profile] stranger
Would the Matter of Britain, excluding BBC Merlin, be fair subject matter? There are eight centuries of fanfic-ish retellings, but it's still archetypical.


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Date: 7 May 2018 04:53 pm (UTC)
timelessapeel: (Jason King)
From: [personal profile] timelessapeel
Department S, Annabelle, Stewart, Jason & Sir Curtis, holiday:
Edited Date: 7 May 2018 05:40 pm (UTC)
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Date: 7 May 2018 10:54 am (UTC)
emeraldarrows: White Collar - Neal smiling with text "Nice!" (15)
From: [personal profile] emeraldarrows
Robin of Sherwood, Robin/Marion (either Robin) or gen group, a happy day in their lives.
liadtbunny: Disney Cartoon Lion (Default)
From: [personal profile] liadtbunny
The outlaws were in a glade deep in the forest. In the middle of their group was a chest overflowing with gold and jewels.

“One for you, Marion” said Robin. He passed her a tiara. “I wouldn't have imagined an Abbess would have such a wide array of trinkets.”

“Anything more than a plain, wooden cross is excessive,” said Marion in mock disgust.

“I'm glad you said that, we were doing the woman's soul a favour by robbing her,” said Will. He picked up a diamond encrusted crucifix and made the others laugh.

“Robin's got you a crown fit for his May Queen,” said Much.

“I can't keep it, the villagers need it to pay the new taxes.” Marion put the tiara back into the chest.

“And a crown of wild flowers is as beautiful,” said Tuck.

“I can't keep a crown of flowers either; they soon fade,” said Marion, wistfully.

Robin put an arm around her waist and kissed her. “You'll always be my queen whatever you wear. My love won't fade away.”

“And that's better than any crown,” said Marion, with a smile.

Date: 7 May 2018 12:28 pm (UTC)
el_staplador: (Default)
From: [personal profile] el_staplador
Thunderbirds, John Tracy, change of scene

Date: 7 May 2018 12:28 pm (UTC)
el_staplador: (Default)
From: [personal profile] el_staplador
Thunderbirds, Lady Penelope Creighton-Ward, when in Rome

Date: 7 May 2018 12:53 pm (UTC)
el_staplador: (Default)
From: [personal profile] el_staplador
The Prisoner of Zenda, Rudolf Rassendyll/Rupert Hentzau, play-acting

Date: 7 May 2018 12:54 pm (UTC)
el_staplador: (Default)
From: [personal profile] el_staplador
North Face, Miss Fisher/Miss Searle, day trip

Date: 7 May 2018 01:00 pm (UTC)
el_staplador: (Default)
From: [personal profile] el_staplador
Captain Scarlet and the Mysterons, Captain Scarlet/Captain Blue, destiny
timelessapeel: (Default)
From: [personal profile] timelessapeel
“I should’ve known,” Annabelle Hurst said miserably, huddled in her bathing suit on Jason’s couch with her beach towel swirled around her shoulders. “A working holiday on a tropical island was too good to be true.”

“I should have known,” Sir Curtis grumbled, sitting in a nearby armchair distractedly puffing on a cigar. “The invitation to the peace conference came too suddenly. If we hadn’t been having problems with our internal mail delivery, I would’ve treated it with more caution.” He sighed in exasperation at his mistake. “I was so concerned that we were going to arrive late that I didn’t follow my usual protocol. I would have worked out that it was a trap.”

“No, I should have known,” Jason King muttered darkly around the cigarette between his lips, fingers otherwise occupied with flying across the keys of his typewriter. “Why I ever suggested that the three of you could stay in my vacation house for the duration of the conference is beyond me. I must need my head examined.”

“What I want to know,” Stewart Sullivan said tersely, busily stacking furniture against the beach house’s front door, “is when the three of you are going to quit sulking and help me! Annabelle?”

“The conference was only supposed to be in the mornings,” Annabelle moped. “I was going to spend all the afternoons on the beach working on my tan.” She regarded her decidedly-untanned bare legs despondently.

“Sir Curtis?”

“The peace conference is undoubtedly underway by now,” Sir Curtis sighed. “It will reflect very badly on Department S that no one is representing us.”


“Stewart, I’m on a deadline,” Jason said irritably. “If I don’t have this manuscript typed up by the end of the day, Nicola will have my head.”

“If we don’t stop those armed men coming up the beach,” Stewart exclaimed, looking worriedly out the window, “there won’t be enough of you left to fill a paper bag!”

Jason snorted in a puff of smoke. “Stewart, if you think that’s going to dissuade Nicola, you’re very much mistaken. Death to an editor is but an unfortunate stumbling block on the way to publication.”

“But they’re coming here!” Stewart said desperately, trying to make his colleagues understand the severity of the situation. “Lots of them! All armed to the teeth!”

“Well, I hope they’re not expecting me to play host,” Jason said distractedly, tapping his cigarette into the ashtray with long, elegant fingers. “The three of you have drunk and eaten me out of house and home. I’m fresh out of champagne and strawberries.”

“Food’s going to be the least of our worries in about five minutes,” Stewart warned, drawing his gun.

Jason sighed expansively. “If you’re so worried about our chances, we can always slip out through the secret underground tunnel.”

Stewart froze from lining up a shot between Jason’s exquisite silk curtains. “What secret underground tunnel?”

“Hmm?” Jason said distractedly, typewriter tapping out a jazzy tattoo. “Oh, didn’t I mention it? I had a secret tunnel installed when I built the property. Comes out in the jungle at the other end of the island. It’s handy for avoiding tax collectors, ex-girlfriends, that sort of thing.”

Stewart was gaping uncomprehendingly at Jason. “Why didn’t you say something earlier?”

“Oh, because Mark Caine’s only just mentioned it,” Jason said unconcernedly, pulling the sheet of paper from the typewriter, and adding it to the leather portfolio at his elbow. “I suppose we should get going. If they break in and get blood all over my new pages, Nicola will have an absolute fit.” He packed the typewriter in its case and closed the portfolio, hefted both and moved to where Annabelle was brooding. “Annabelle, you’re mechanically-inclined. Carry this for me, will you? There’s a good girl.”

Annabelle scowled at the black case plopped in her lap. “I came here for a holiday, Jason, not to be your bellhop.”

“Chin up. The sun’s much better on the other side of the island at this time of day,” Jason informed.

Annabelle’s face brightened instantly. “Is it really?”

“I have the sunburn to prove it.” Jason turned to Sir Curtis. “There’s a café, as well. You can use their phone to get in touch with Department S.”

Sir Curtis perked up instantly. “That’s excellent, Jason. Perhaps I can arrange a charter flight. We might be able to attend the last part of the conference.”

“Suit yourself,” Jason said unenthusiastically. He strode over to a bookshelf laden with Mark Caine first editions, and pulled at the spine of a hardback. A secret door swung open, and Stewart could just make out a long flight of stairs leading down. “Come along, everyone. Unless you want to stay on and greet our invited guests, Stewart?”

Stewart took one last glance out the window before stalking over to where Jason was waiting. “How do you do that?” he demanded, as Annabelle and Sir Curtis filed down the staircase.

Jason was nonplussed. “Do what?”

“Save the day without breaking a sweat.”

“Infuriating, is it?”


“My dear Stewart,” Jason condescended. “Because I’m Jason King. What did you expect?”

Stewart watched Jason’s retreating back with pursed lips, then followed. It was a glib answer, but Stewart was damned if it wasn’t the right one. Annoyingly right.

Date: 7 May 2018 02:07 pm (UTC)
peoriapeoriawhereart: very British officer in sweater (Brigader gets the job done)
From: [personal profile] peoriapeoriawhereart
The Avengers/Doctor Who (old school, 2nd-5th) Mrs. Peel consults for U.N.I.T. (or interacts with Sarah Jane Smith, U.N.I.T related characters)

Steel & Sapphire/Man from U.N.C.L.E Author picks whose 'procedural' it is and whether there is any outside antagonist.

The Avengers, Mrs. Peel crosses paths with Peggy Carter (Captain America:The First Avenger)

Lord Peter Wimsey Mysteries Really, the crossover possibilities are infinite with any of the above mix/match.

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Date: 7 May 2018 05:19 pm (UTC)
gillo: (Hilarity ensues)
From: [personal profile] gillo
The Eyre Affair (Jasper Fforde series) crossover with any Dorothy Dunnett. Meeting of TN with any of the charismatic women - Sybilla, Kate, Phillippa, Gelis, Katelijne, Marion de Charetty, Gruoch etc.

Date: 7 May 2018 05:20 pm (UTC)
gillo: (Book Lover)
From: [personal profile] gillo
The Eyre Affair, (Jasper Fforde series. Miss Havisham trains a newby from any other qualifying fandom.

Date: 7 May 2018 05:21 pm (UTC)
gillo: (Killl Manny)
From: [personal profile] gillo
Green Wing. A patient goes missing. (Bonus for crossover with Black Books)

Date: 7 May 2018 05:31 pm (UTC)
kimaracretak: (Default)
From: [personal profile] kimaracretak
BBC River, Stevie, born without a name on the darkest day
rosehiptea: (Bela B)
From: [personal profile] rosehiptea
[I'm really not sure if this is what you were going for, but I hope you like it.]


They told her she didn't want to be a mother. Not that she was too young, they didn't quite have the nerve to say that to her after all she had been through because of them, but they told her how hard it was, how she would be up all night. As if she wouldn't be up all night anyway, wondering what happened to him. But in the end they let her know him, sometimes even called him hers when he was a little one, thought they were careful never to teach him to call her "mother."

When she had given birth, at home for secrecy, with everyone gathered around, they tried to not even let her hold him. But she yelled at everyone to leave, putting all her pain into her voice, and they had left for a short time. She had held him then, and sung to him, and promised him the world though she knew she could not give it. Stevie named her son "Robert," simply because she liked that name. She knew they would erase that name, though, and give him another.

They told her she didn't want to be a mother, but she already was.

Date: 7 May 2018 05:33 pm (UTC)
rusty_armour: (stalky)
From: [personal profile] rusty_armour
The Persuaders, Brett Sinclair/Danny Wilde, hurt/comfort. It would be great to have a fic set after "Someone Like Me," but I'd be happy with anything. :-)
rusty_armour: (brothersinarms)
From: [personal profile] rusty_armour
Filling my own prompt, baby! \o/

Brett was drinking too much. Cynthia had raised an eyebrow when Brett had ordered another bottle of Champagne and had exchanged a look with Annabelle. Danny quickly called the waiter back and cancelled the order, smiling innocently when he was met with the cold Sinclair glower.

“Brett, we’d better make tracks if we’re going to make it to that meeting with Judge Fulton,” Danny said.

Brett stared at Danny blankly for a few seconds and then smiled, looking slightly abashed. “How careless of me to forget. I must have lost track of the time. Ladies, I hope you’ll forgive us for cutting short such a delightful evening.”

Cynthia patted the back of Brett’s hand. “Of course, darling. We understand completely.”

Brett took Cynthia’s hand and kissed it. “We’ll have dinner soon.” He cast a glance at Danny. “Alone.” He rose from his chair. “We’ll give you both a lift before our-”

“Sorry, kid, there isn’t time,” Danny said. “I’ll just lend Annabelle my car. I can get it back from her tomorrow.”

Annabelle leaned over and kissed Danny on the cheek, pausing long enough to whisper in his ear. “I hope Brett feels better soon.”

“Yeah, me too. Thanks, sweetheart.” Danny gave both Annabelle and Cynthia a cheery wave and followed Brett out of the restaurant. Brett stood with his arms crossed, leaning against his Aston Martin.

“I suppose you’d prefer to drive,” Brett said.

Danny kept his expression neutral. “Not necessarily.”

“Ah. You just don’t want me to go off on my own – or with Cynthia, apparently.” Brett sighed deeply. “What the hell is going on, Danny? Why didn’t you just tell me I was drinking too much instead of concocting that ridiculous story?”

“I was just trying to preserve your lordly dignity, your lordship,” Danny said.

Brett rolled his eyes. “When has that ever concerned you?”

“It concerns me plenty, Brett.” Danny leaned back against the Aston Martin as well, intentionally brushing against the sleeve of Brett’s jacket as he did so. “What happened, kid? The date was going swell. You were scintillating and charming, oozing lordliness all over the place. You had Cynthia eating out of the palm of your hand...” Danny trailed off when he saw Brett frown. “Is that it? Were things going too well?”

Brett swept a hand across his face. “As you may recall, I haven’t been myself lately.”

Danny snorted. “Yeah, brainwashing will do that to a fellow.”

Brett grimaced. “I don’t want to be alone with Cynthia – or anyone – until I’m sure that-”

“You’re okay now,” Danny said.

Brett raised an eyebrow. “Am I?”

“Yes, Brett, you are.” Danny squeezed Brett’s shoulder. “You’re just tired, that’s all. What you need more than anything is a good night’s sleep.”

“I’m not sure if that’s possible,” Brett said. “Whenever I go to sleep, I see flashes of the hospital room, flashes of Fowler and Sam...”

“Sounds like nightmares to me. They’ll fade in time.”

“And until then?”

“Look, let’s continue this conversation back at your place. I’ll heat up some warm milk and-”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Brett said. “I’ve already tried to kill you twice.”

“Technically, it was just the once. You only knocked me out the second time.”


“You say you don’t want to be alone with anyone, but I bet you’re more afraid of being alone with yourself.”

Brett’s forehead furrowed in confusion. “Alone with myself?”

Danny gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “You know what I mean. Properly alone. Alone alone.”

Brett smiled wearily. “All right, Daniel. I think I catch your drift.”

“So we’re heading to your place?” Danny asked.

“If it will finally bring this discussion to an end, yes.”

! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !

“I’m sorry, Daniel, but you’re really not my type,” Brett said as Danny dragged him into the bedroom. “We’re from two very different backgrounds. It simply wouldn’t work.”

“Ah, are you worried that I’m too good for you because I grew up in the Bronx? That’s really sweet.” Danny gave Brett a shove, and Brett landed on his bed. “For the love of God, get some sleep. It’s nearly 2 a.m.”

Danny thought he’d been making progress when he convinced Brett to change into his pyjamas and drink the warm milk, but then Brett had settled on the sofa and had spoken about almost every topic under the sun. Out of sheer desperation, Danny had seized Brett by the arm and had hauled him off the sofa. Now, he was pulling back the bed covers, and Brett was watching him with an alarmed expression.

“You aren’t planning to tuck me in, are you?” Brett asked.

“I might.”

Brett sighed and, rising from the mattress, walked around Danny to climb into bed. Somehow, he didn’t seem entirely surprised when Danny sat down on the other side of the bed. “At least remove your shoes, you hopeless pleb.”

“Yes, of course, your lordship. I was just about to do that.”

Brett cast his eyes to the ceiling when he felt the mattress shift. “You know, there’s a perfectly good sofa in the sitting room.”

“Oh, no, your lordship,” Danny said. “I’m staying right here where I can keep an eye on you.”

Brett glared at him. “I’m not a child, Daniel.”

Danny raised himself up on one elbow and faced Brett’s ire. “No, you’re a guy who’s had a really rough time lately and desperately needs to get some sleep.”

Brett growled something unintelligible and turned over on his side, his back to Danny.

“It’s hardly the first time we’ve shared a bed,” Danny said. “Remember the time when we stayed in that pensione in San Gimignano?”

“I think ‘pensione’ is a rather generous description of that hovel. And we wouldn’t have needed to stay there in the first place if you had turned right when I told you to.”

“Or if you had let me take the route I wanted to take in the first place.” Danny gently prodded Brett’s back, observing that Brett flinched but didn’t try to move away. “Do you want me to go?”

“No,” Brett said.

Danny smiled. “What can I do?”

“Keep talking.”


“Anything. You’re such a dull conversationalist that anything you say is bound to put me to sleep.”

Danny reached over and ruffled Brett’s hair. “Thatta boy. You’re sounding more like yourself already.”

“Daniel, if you ever do that again, I’ll sick the dog on you.”

Danny studied Brett’s silk-clad back in bewilderment. “You don’t have a dog.”

“I’ll get one,” Brett said.

Danny gave Brett’s back a mock look of horror and then launched into a story about the first big deal he ever made. He knew Brett had heard it before, but he thought Brett might find that familiarity comforting. Brett also had little interest in business, especially Danny’s business, and claimed that any talk on the subject was guaranteed to put him to sleep. Sure enough, Danny was only about five minutes into his anecdote when he heard soft snores coming from the other side of the bed. Danny curled up under the covers and decided to get some sleep himself.

Edited Date: 21 May 2018 10:36 pm (UTC)

Date: 7 May 2018 08:00 pm (UTC)
el_staplador: (Default)
From: [personal profile] el_staplador
Ballet Shoes/A Company of Swans, Manoff and Galina Simonova, ars longa vita brevis

Since I just now discovered this series :)

Date: 7 May 2018 08:10 pm (UTC)
romanajo123: (Default)
From: [personal profile] romanajo123
The Avengers, Steed, Peel, Needed in a snowy mystery
Edited Date: 7 May 2018 09:45 pm (UTC)
timelessapeel: (Emma)
From: [personal profile] timelessapeel
Emma Peel bent over the prone figure lying on the ground, knee-high boots sinking into the snow with a muffled crunch. “Same as all the others,” she pronounced, straightening up and looking to Steed, who was crouched a short distance away beside another spread-eagled form. “And you said that they all behaved similarly before they died?”

“Just as Peters, Miller, and Saunders,” Steed confirmed, rising to his feet and sauntering over to where Emma was blowing into her leather-gloved hands. “They became agitated, ran frantically out into the snow, dropped to the ground, started waving their arms and legs back and forth, and—“

“Never got up again,” Emma finished, huddling a little further into the depths of her fur coat. “I don’t imagine that these titans of industry would be pleased to have known they’d spend their last few seconds making snow angels.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Steed demurred. “There’s a certain charming whimsy to it, spending one’s last moments frolicking about in the snow.”

“Well, I wish they’d chosen to be charming and whimsical near a roaring fire,” Emma managed between chattering teeth.

“I had an auntie who used to make biscuits like these,” Steed murmured to himself, off in some childhood reverie.


“Hmm? Oh, I’m terribly sorry, my dear. I agree, it is rather brisk. Let’s find you a nice roaring fire.”

“Preferably somewhere that they also sell a hot cup of cocoa,” Emma asserted.

“Definitely,” Steed agreed, guiding Emma back toward her Lotus. “Cold aside, there is one good thing to come out of this assignment.”

Emma arched an inquisitive eyebrow. “Yes?”

Steed leaned in conspiratorially. “Despite the snow, there isn’t a murderous Father Christmas to be seen.”

Emma shivered, and not from the cold.

Date: 7 May 2018 08:23 pm (UTC)
ruthi: a photograph of a dormouse eating a berry (Default)
From: [personal profile] ruthi
Terrahawks, Sgt Major Zero/Dr Tiger Ninestein , requited

Date: 23 May 2018 10:00 pm (UTC)
jitterylittlething: (Goblins)
From: [personal profile] jitterylittlething
Omg someone else who remembers Terrahawks! Those puppets used to give me nightmares - even the good guys.

Date: 7 May 2018 08:37 pm (UTC)
smallhobbit: (Call The Midwife)
From: [personal profile] smallhobbit
Call the Midwife, Sister Monica Joan, flowers

Call the Midwife, Sister Monica Joan, flowers

Date: 8 May 2018 04:38 pm (UTC)
timelessapeel: (green dress)
From: [personal profile] timelessapeel
“Good morning, Sister,” Fred greeted, picking his way through the garden toward the tool shed. “Out enjoying the sun?”

Sister Monica Joan looked up from pondering the ground a few inches from her feet, and shook her head sadly. “I regret, Fred, that I did not venture out of doors for the purpose of bathing in the light of the star at the heart of our solar system, but to gather and preserve outstanding examples of flora.”

“Oh, well, nice day for it,” Fred replied, rummaging in the shed and coming up with a shovel. He turned and regarded Sister Monica Joan’s slumped form huddled on the garden bench. “Although, isn’t collecting usually a bit more…active?”

Sister Monica Joan let out a long breath through her nose in frustration. “I intended to begin my endeavour with this violet before which I have chosen to rest.”

Fred followed her eyeline and nodded in approval. “That’s a lovely violet, and I consider myself something of an expert on them.” He laughed a little at his own joke, a pun on his wife’s name.

Sister Monica Joan sighed. “Yes, but there lies the problem. If your eyes delight in the vision of the violet, then who am I to selfishly remove it, to where no one but a select few may gaze upon its beauty?”

“Well, it’s here now, but it won’t be forever,” Fred reasoned. “But it’ll wither eventually. Stands to reason more people will get to enjoy it in the long run if you preserve it.”

“Yes, but this presents another problem,” Sister Monica Joan protested. “As a living thing, who am I to decide when it should live or die? If it fades away where it has taken root, it is nature that has pronounced on its beginning and its end. If I am to preserve it, I must shorten its life considerably, a choice which is surely in the hands of a power more mighty than I?”

Fred settled down on the bench beside her. “Well, what about a carrot, then? We pull carrots out of the ground instead of letting them sit there until they rot. But you wouldn’t worry about harvesting a carrot to eat it, would you?”

“I confess I do not favour carrots when they are on my plate. They are not the most agreeable of the vegetables. But they are required for sustenance,” Sister Monica Joan reasoned. “While my preservation is for less-noble purposes: vanity and possession.”

Fred frowned in thought. “Didn’t you quote some bloke once who said something about beauty being food for the soul?”

“Many great thinkers have made such claims.”

“Well then,” Fred reasoned, “if beauty is food for the soul, then it’s important to preserve it before it goes away and all our souls go hungry. And if you don’t preserve that violet, then in a little while it’ll be gone and no one will get filled up by looking at it ever again. And then where will we be?”

Sister Monica Joan’s eyes lit up. “Fred, your grasp of logic and the matters of the soul reveal an uncommon wisdom.”

“Why, thank you, Sister,” Fred preened, sitting a little bit taller. “I do my best to keep sharp.”

“And sharpness is what I will require when I carefully separate the bloom from its stem,” Sister Monica Joan declared, picking up a pair of scissors sitting next to her on the bench. “Make way, Fred. I must save what is beautiful to provide us with sustenance during the winter.”

Re: Call the Midwife, Sister Monica Joan, flowers

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Date: 5 Jul 2018 09:05 pm (UTC)
swordznsorcery: (Default)
From: [personal profile] swordznsorcery
Thanks for reposting this prompt! I started to write it the last time, then forgot about it. I eventually found the first half in a notebook behind the bookcase. :D Hopefully it's not suffered too much from the experience...

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