For the Ship+AU post could I ask Autor and (your choice) in a College or Coffee AU?
Here’s the funny thing on this: I was going to do both, but my brain wasn’t really coming up with anything for college as an AU. I mean, I HAVE written college stuff for Autor and have other ideas for him with it, but that technically falls under my postcanon writings, so it’s not really an AU at that point. So instead let’s blow the dust off my coffeeshop AU and have a little fun.
Autor drinks his tea, nearly to the dregs of his third cup and the last supplied by the provided teapot. It’s just as empty as the open word doc on his laptop. No matter how he tries plying his brain with Darjeeling and Assam, the dam on his ideas holds firm and refuses to let out even so much as a trickle of words.
They’re right there, waiting to be typed, but he reaches for the lemon cookie he got instead. The barista recommended it, as it’s actually one of the less sweet pastries they have on hand. He wonders if that was the only reason or if she has a fondness for the duck-shaped treat since her name happens to be Duck. Either way, he bites the cookie’s head off and finds she’s right to suggest it.
The coffee shop is in its brief early afternoon lull right before the next set wakes up and heads in for a cup to start their day. Duck bustles about taking care of some simple chores like wiping down the condiment counter and spot sweeping, seemingly just as content now as she was when she started her shift this morning. For that matter, though professional courtesy is expected, Autor doesn’t believe he’s ever seen Duck in a foul mood.
Autor looks to the new voice in the shop. He’s just in time to catch her grabbing Duck by the head and twisting in such a way that he’s surprised Duck’s neck didn’t break.
“Oh, poor Duck!” the newcomer bemoans, twisting Duck’s head to and fro. “Slaving away since the early hours of morning and living on nothing but tips, too exhausted to keep up her ballet lessons! She’ll surely flunk down to the probationary class at this rate!”
“Give it a rest, Lillie,” another girl says as she pulls her off of Duck.
“But it’s okay because I’m always here to cheer Duck on when she fails!” the first adds.
Autor looks to the first of the two, the one called Lillie. She looks about as sugary sweet as a white chocolate pumpkin spice latte topped with whipped cream, but her words, struggle and stakes, and the light that comes to her eyes as she talks of it.
Conflict! Of course! If the dam won’t open, he must break it. A wrench in the plans, a twist in the neck. Why didn’t he see it before?
His heart skips a beat, from the caffeine surely, and the cogs in his head spin. Lillie resumes her honey-dipped lament for Duck’s life, and Autor’s fingers fly across his keyboard.
Autor has found his muse.
