#augusta bell

[youaremysunshine-court]

it took me doing victoriocity voices in the kitchen while making breakfast this morning to realise that the bell siblings are named either after the month in which they were born (not normal, but happened to my grandparents) or in latin according to their birth order (even less normal, but so much cooler)

[coelart]

Can I get a Victoriocity headcanon?

Can I PLEASE get a Victoriocity headcanon?

YOURE ASKING FOR HEADCANNONS AT THE COUNTER WHILE IM GETTING PUNCHED IN THE FACE BY SEASON 3 TEASERS

jk thank u for the ask <3 <3

Here's a little one! All of the Bell family wear glasses. It's CRITICAL that they all have different styles.

[littlebookreader]

Tim: Dear friends, your Christmas gift this year… is me. That’s right, another year of friendship. Your membership has been renewed.

[traveltash]

Displays at the Aircraft Museum in Malta

[youaremysunshine-court]

Inspector Archibald Fleet is simply Zolf Smith in an alternate universe, yes I will elaborate you just have to ask

[littlebookreader]

Julius: What time is it?

Septimus: I don’t know; pass Tibewius a saxophone and we’ll find out

Tiberius: *Plays saxophone loudly and extremely out of tune*

Augusta: WHO IS PLAYING THE SAXOPHONE AT TWO IN THE MORNING ?!

Aurelia: It’s 2 in the morning, Julius. Go back to sleep.

[littlebookreader]

iustus alius dies ad domum

This has two parts: Information and the fic itself. For slightly easier accessibility, I will put both in this post itself.

Some information first:

Summary: Julius Bell knows a lot of things, and what he doesn’t know, he learns. Right? (For the Wednesday prompt ‘Favourite Bell Sibling’ of the Victoriocity Appreciation Week 2021. Takes place after ‘SMS Brandenburg’, shortly before Lunae lumen ipsum.)

Fandoms: Victoriocity(Podcast)

Rating: General Audiences

Relationships: Gen

Word count: 666 words(okay....)

Characters: Julius Bell, Septimus Bell, Augusta Bell, Aurelia Bell, Commodus Bell, Tiberius Bell, past implied Julius Bell/Dr. Emeline Tilvane, Dr. Emeline Tilvane(mentioned), John Balmoral(mentioned), Michael Monkfish | The Narrator(mentioned). 

Additional Tags: Family feud: the Victorian drama, just kidding, I have no idea what the game is, so that reference is nonsensical at best, Septimus being a sweeties for n minutes straight(?), Julius being way too salty for a man of his size, Aurelia being my crush(is that cause of Beth Eyre, I think it’s also cause of Beth Eyre), The Bells being.....the Bells, I’m waaaaay too late with this, so have two fics!, ayyy, can’t really think of much else, author regrets everything, no beta we quarrel like the Bells, here you go

@victoriocity-appreciation for the Favourite Bell Sibling.

Part 5 of Love, Actually.

This was the information. For the rest of the fic, it’s all under the cut.

Fic: 

In his position, Julius Bell had to know a lot of things. What he didn’t know, he had to learn, and what he knew, he had to hide. He’d come to understand, from brilliant inventor and trusted friend(he wasn’t ashamed to admit he’d hoped for more, but those times were long past) Dr. Emeline Tilvane, that they’d only resolved a small piece of the puzzle, that there was a lot more to the spy racket than they’d unearthed so far. Presently, however, this was not the only thing bothering him.

“You must understand, Julius, I cannot do this!”

He frowned. “Whyever not? It’s only a few men.”

“Yes,” Commodus gruffed, “And I need them all.” With that, Commodus, his brother, whom for the most part he tolerated, began to walk out, dashing all of Julius’ hopes with each retreating footstep.

“I will have them back by tomorrow, I promise.”

“It’s already the eleventh hour.”

It was at this point that Septimus decided to grace them with his presence. “Will you stop fighting? It is late, and some of us have early owuhs!”

“He’s right, Julius, can’t this wait till the morning?” Aurelia, who was a socialite, a planner of the highest order, the Bells almost never got to see, despite her schedule keeping being impeccable, had chosen NOW to visit?

“No, it most certainly cannot! This is a matter of national security!”

“It’s always a matter of national security with you, isn’t it? Never a good scoop, just an inane chatter surrounding it,” Augusta grumbled.

“Well-” He faltered. They would never really understand, would they? It wasn’t much use defending himself to them anyway, because they’d just offer up stranger and stranger critique by the passing word. “I have a source.”

This caught Augusta’s interest, while the others rolled their eyes. “Who is it?”

“I’m afraid I cannot tell you that.”

“Why?” Tiberius, who was sitting in the corner, probably writing some terrible poetry, limerick or haiku again, asked.

“Well, that could be because I do not actually know who it is, just that they’ve been sending notes all around the city to my contacts, and gauging their responses.”

Septimus sighed, then frowned. “There was a man at St. Bernadine’s who’d been shot in the leg, but left wight the day after, would ‘your contact’ have had anything to do with that?”

Julius pulled him aside and asked, “Would this man happen to be registered, in records as John Balmoral, by any chance?”

“He most coitanly was!”

“Oh, then yes, I suppose so, why?”

Septimus was not someone he’d generally disagreed too much with, though they’d still had their fair share of arguments leading with one either throwing something at the other, or chasing him around with a scalpel. Right then, Septimus almost looked comical, eyes bulging out of his head, eyebrows waggling about every which way.

“He was placed under obsoivation! And, he was shot in the leg! Couldn’t your contact have waited a few moi days?”

He simply shrugged. “I had nothing to do with that. Balmoral made his choice. I simply pushed him in the right direction.”

“Which was what, exactly?”

If he was being honest, even he had no idea. Apart from a small test, just to understand their reactions a bit better (Fleet and Ms. Entwhistle being the more inaccurate of the two in their assumption, as that interaction had become somewhat common knowledge due to Michael Monkfish’s incessant narration), he wasn’t entirely sure why he’d sent the notes out in the first place.

A new worry began to grow in its stead.

 What if his contact went rogue, sending more notes all around Even Greater London? What then? He hated the conclusion he’d come up with, but he knew he would be better of admitting it while he still could. Before it was too late.

He shook his head, and sighed, looking at his brother, whose anger began to melt into genuine worry. “I don’t know, Septimus. I don’t know.”

[littlebookreader]

rota et charta

This has two parts: Information and the fic itself. For slightly easier accessibility, I will put both in this post itself.

Some information first:

Summary: Clara is assigned a story. (For the Tuesday prompt ‘Favourite Main Character’ of the Victoriocity Appreciation Week 2021. Takes place a week after ‘SMS Brandenburg’. ) 

(Note: This can be read as a standalone as well, but this does provide some context into Clara’s throw-away line about a wheel and a paper being friends, in  Ego ne hic quidem.)

Fandoms: Victoriocity(Podcast)

Rating: General Audiences

Relationships: Gen

Word count: 438 words

Characters: Clara Entwhistle, Augusta Bell, Bodkin(mentioned), Lavender Boothroyd(mentioned), Lester Horrocks(mentioned)

Additional Tags: News story, written for context, another main character cause I honestly cannot pick between Fleetwhistle, a wheel and a paper being friends is just so wholesome, haha, crack treated seriously as crack, can’t really think of much else, author regrets everything, no beta we advertise like Augusta, here you go

@victoriocity-appreciation for the Favourite Main Character.

Part 2.5(or 3) of Love, Actually.

This was the information. For the rest of the fic, it’s all under the cut.

Fic: 

The Morning Chronicler had begun to face an uptick recently with the national intrigue surrounding the matter of the Tower and internal spies, though most would admit that the newspaper, up till then had been incredibly droll.

A few days after the dust had settled, Clara began to see why. Even Greater London was full of crime, on most occasions. Recently, however, things seemed a little….quiet. She stayed nights at the offices, while visiting the paper in the mornings. Even Lester, whom she’d realised had never really lost his touch, to begin with, seemed to have trouble sniffing out the next big story. She greeted Ms. Bodkin at the front desk, who still assumed she’d wanted to meet Dr. Bell, and headed inside, fully prepared for a day of quiet editing.

When she reached her desk(a recent acquisition), she wasn’t quite so alarmed by Lester’s absence….or the fact that Augusta seemed to be a little too happy all of a sudden, when generally, most of her days consisted of her shouting at one of her many siblings or at Boothroyd.

What did alarm her, however, was the wheel placed on her desk. It wasn’t as big in size as an actual object as it was in her mind, of course, but she was a writer, after all. She did tend to exaggerate occasionally.

“Good Lord, what is this?”

“It’s a wheel, Ms. Entwhistle, I thought that should be obvious.”

Clara shook her head. “I understand that, no, I mean, why is it on my desk?”

“Oh! The wheel production mill has decided to put up an advertisement in the paper, something that tells a story, and you are the person for the job.”

“I am the person…..to chart up an advertisement for a wheel?”

“Yes, you could say that the wheel and the paper were best friends.” The wheel and the paper were best friends? What?

Clara blinked. “I…shall certainly try.”

“Right, you might want to get to it, then. We have a deadline tomorrow, spit spot.”

With that, Augusta whirled on her heel and walked out, leaving Clara all alone to lift the wheel off her desk and write the advertisement in peace. She had said that she wanted a piece after all, hadn’t she?

She huffed and puffed slightly, somewhat managing to push the wheel off her desk. The thing turned out to be surprisingly heavy for something of its size. She sighed, shook off the strangeness of this entire situation, and got to work. The wheel and the paper were best friends?

Maybe there was something to work with here, after all.