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OTFC #19 In Formal Wear

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PLEASE READ: I am taking the 30-prompt OTP challenge fav.me/d5dn7ex and CHANGING it to be "OTF"--"one true family," not "one true pairing." Hopefully it's obvious that Scotty and my OC, Orin, have a COMPLETELY INNOCENT, father-and-daughter-type bond, but I just wanted to make that extra-clear here. Most of the themes on this challenge are G-rated and can apply to parent-and-child relationships just as easily as romantic (and I thought they were just too cute to pass up, hence me jumping on the challenge bandwagon :aww:), and the few that aren't, I of course will be finding innocent substitutes for.

~~~

Day 19: In Formal Wear

It was a glorious morning just a month or so after his retirement, and Scotty was excited. For the first time in years, he would be able to go to the Brackenfife's local Highland Games--a traditional celebration of Scottish culture, held in the fresh green hills. And now little Orin could experience them with him too. The wee lass may have been a Dinarian, but she was his daughter now by adoption, and in Scotty's mind, that made her a proper little "Scot" as well as a proper little "Scott." Orin seemed to share this opinion, judging by how enthusiastically she tried to prove it--she was eating haggis and shortbread and "neeps," skreeking on Scotty's bagpipes to the best of her tiny lung capacity, demanding he read her old Scottish poems on several nights, and even sometimes mimicking his burr with a giggle. Scotty couldn't have been more pleased and amused.

Orin had looked forward to this day for over two weeks now. She was nearly bursting to see the beautiful Highland dancers, the sheep-herding contests, and the tug-of-wars and caber tosses. And of course, as Scotty had explained to her, it was best that they both get a proper outfit for the occasion. One quick look at Scotty's old kilt and jacket from several years before revealed that it was a might too many inches tight in the middle (this sending Orin into further giggles), and meanwhile, Orin needed her own "plaidie," so off to the tailor's shop they went.

Scotty had coaxingly shown Orin a neat little tartan dress once they arrived. However, after one of the wee Dinarian's extremely rare but fierce temper tantrums, the old engineer had arrived at an immediate decision: if Bairnie *wants* a boy-kilt instead of a girl-dress, Bairnie *gets* a boy-kilt instead of a girl-dress! The duo departed the store on much more peaceful terms, Orin bouncing happily out, clad in a miniature version of her guardian's kilt and argyle jacket. Scotty just rolled his eyes heavenward and smiled. He had also put on his old glengarry bonnet, while Orin had selected a cute tam-o'-shanter to crown her own head.

When Scotty and Orin arrived at the rim of the Game fields, the steep green hills and streams of heather seemed extra-beautiful in the crisp late-morning air. Orin tugged at her guardian's arm and let out a wild scream of glee as she heard the first trills of bagpipes below, and darted down into the glen.

"Och! Slow doon noo, Lassie!" Scotty chuckled, clasping his bonnet with his other hand to make sure it didn't fall off.

"'Wanna toss the cabers! 'Wanna toss the cabers!" Orin grinned and piped hopefully, bouncing up and down.

Scotty chuckled again, shaking his head as he propped both fists on his chubby, well-dressed hips. There were smaller cabers made specially for children, but he still didn't know if his tiny bairn would really be able to budge them. It was more often the little boys who participated, after all, and they struggled enough. But Scotty knew Orin would likely provide quite a cute and memorable show of trying, whether she managed to move one of the stout wooden poles or not. And he already knew he would be immensely proud of her either way.

"Nay rush, Darlin', first Ah think we mebbe should go fetch us some meat pies an' drinks an' shortbread at one o' the concession stands..." Scotty began, but Orin was tugging vigorously at his wrist once more, and suddenly threw both herself and her guardian off-balance.

"Wuh-HOOOOOAAAAH...!" Scotty yelped, and Orin squeaked, as they both tumbled down the grassy slope, scattering dust all over their nice new outfits. They landed in a slump, a tiny pair of legs with purple-hippo-patterned panties sticking out of one puddle of tartan, and a much larger pair of legs with Scottie-dog-patterned boxers sticking out of the other.

Slowly crawling up and straightening their kilts, the odd little duo grinned at their ridiculous predicament. The day was off to a comical start, but it was certainly going to be fun!

~~~

My first pic of the new year! Fun with Scottish heritage for the win! :aww:

Some visual quirks about this picture which may need an explanation:
1. That barely-visible thing on top of Scotty's lifted knee is his sporran. That's the fur-decorated pouch traditionally worn hanging from the belt on top of a kilt: www.pinterest.com/pin/32074080… (Orin just has a little puffball purse in place of a true sporran on her kilt, to match the fuzzy bauble on her tam.)
2. Those reddish-purple blobs on the background hills are supposed to be (my weak attempt at) patches of heather. ^^;
3. And those gray blobs are standing stones/ancient monuments of some sort.
4. Hopefully it's at least semi-obvious that the green-and-brown blobs on top are trees....

Anyways, here, have some mood music: :) (The good stuff starts at 0:40!)
www.youtube.com/watch?v=aKD5CW…

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ticklishnatasha's avatar

Orin could also wear Scotty's old outfit when she gets older; wouldn't take much adjusting to correct the size difference.