cabinpres_fic: (pic#1165825)cabinpres_fic ([personal profile] cabinpres_fic) wrote,
@ 2011-08-10 03:16 am UTC
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Current mood: chipper
Entry tags:prompting part ii

Please see the most recent MOD NOTE


(updated 6 June)

Welcome everybody. How you got here I have no idea but thank you for coming and welcome again, nonetheless . As you may have gathered this is a Fic Prompting Meme dedicated solely to the hilarious and oh-so-addictive BBC Radio 4 sitcom - Cabin Pressure. I'm aiming for this to be pretty anything goes - but in order for everything to run smoothly, there are a few guidelines. Don't worry - they're not too restrictive.


FILLING GUIDELINES



As you probably all know - our meme now has it's very own database created and maintained by the great Enigel. It both catalogues each and every prompt that we post and provides links to fills. You can find it here: Google Spreadsheet

We also have a Pinboard archive which has been put in place by the lovely [personal profile] oxfordtweed in the place of our late Delicious Archive. This Archive contains a list of all the prompts this meme has to offer - you can find it here: Pinboard Archive

This is a great step forward in making our meme just a little more organised (but not too organised of course. This is Cabin Pressure) which is always a good thing.

So in order to make things easier to archive - Please nest your fills.

This can be done by either posting each part as a reply to that part's immediate predecessor, OR by replying each time to Part I OR - well you get the idea :D

It makes it simpler for Enigel and myself to link fills in a clean and clear manner. Following these guildelines will be very much appreciated guys :D

REPROMPTING



Reprompting is allowed but please include the URL of the original prompt when you do so. It will make it infinitely more easy to Archive which would make both Enigel and I very happy :)

As for everything else



  1. Be respectful to one another. Disagreements are fine, but not everything disagreeable is trolling. If you suspect someone of trolling, just ignore it. If you cannot respond to a comment without attacking or trolling someone else, keep it to yourself.

  2. No bashing prompts. It might not be your cup of tea - but obviously someone wants it enough to go to the effort of requesting it. So just scroll past it.

  3. Prompt away as much as you like guys - seriously, go wild - but please try to fill as well.

    4. NEW - If your fill includes a major element that veers from the original prompt (crossovers, established universes, kinks, et cetera), please take a few moments to check with the OP that such additions are welcome. This has caused problems in the past and it only takes a few moments of your time.
  4. Please no RPF. I'm not trying to oppress you RPF writers and enthusiasts, I would just really like to avoid any legal problems.

  5. When you post a fill (or post a new part of a WIP) please go over to the Filled Prompts Post (if it is complete) or the WIP Post (if there are still more parts to come) and, following each post's guideline's, post a link to this fill or new part.


REALLY IMPORTANT ADDENDUM



According to numerous Child Safety laws it is illegal to provide pornographic material to minors. Seeing that the majority of the stuff we have here is rather adult in nature, this Meme is consequently an 18+ zone. Failing to comply to this rule could result in the Meme getting shut down. So if you're here and you're under 18 please back button now.

+ Please do not post anything regarding minors in a sexual situation. It really doesn't matter how tasteful or crass it is, there are laws that classify that sort of thing as child pornography and as such, I'm afraid we're going to have to go with the attitude that safe is better than sorry.

It really is VERY important that these rules are upheld as the consequences are severe.

Other than that - go crazy guys. Any problems please just message me and I'll try my best to work it out.



Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Prompt Index

Current Prompt Post | Current Chatter Post | WIP Post | Filled Prompts Post | Searching Post | Orphan Post | Page-a-Mod Post | FAQ | Beta/Concrit Post

[livejournal.com profile] cabin_pressure | Cabin Pressure @ AO3 | IRC Chat @ irc.ecnet.org #FittonATC

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Domestic bliss


(Anonymous)
2011-09-06 05:47 am UTC (link)
Can I get a short fill of a domestic scene with the whole dog pack (bonus points if Herc is worked in somehow)? Maybe they camp out at Carolyn or Douglas' house for the holidays or all get snowed in together?

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FILL: Boggle By Firelight 1a/?


(Anonymous)
2011-09-06 09:00 pm UTC (link)
A/N - I don't know about 'short', I'm afraid, but today has been the first really dark, cold, rainy, blustery day of the Autumn over here and the mention of them getting snowed in together coupled with the weather here made me fancy writing something really cozy & domestic. So here it is!

2pm

‘It’s cold.’ Arthur, ever the master of the unnecessary statement, cheerily met Martin and Douglas with this observation as he opened the door to them. ‘Isn’t it cold? Are you cold, Douglas?’

‘Quite cold,’ replied Douglas, wrapping his arms around himself, despite his thick coat, ‘yes.’

‘Are you cold, Martin?’ added Arthur.

Martin hugged himself tightly, pulling his elderly denim jacket closed over a cheap pullover. ‘Yes, Arthur,’ he replied, teeth chattering.

‘I’m surprised you didn’t wear a coat, Skip,’ Arthur added, clearly perfectly happy to keep on chattering on the doorstep, rather than inviting them in to the relative warmth. ‘What with it being so cold and all.’

Martin glanced down. ‘This is my coat.’

‘Oh,’ trilled Arthur. ‘I like it. Very Rock & Roll. You might be a bit more comfortable in my old Parka, though, when we go to the pub. Because, it really is pretty cold.’

‘Yes,’ said Douglas. Frankly, even in his wool coat, he’d half frozen just on the quick walk down the gravel drive to the door from where he’d parked the car. The further minute or so spent loitering on the doorstep making pointless conversation about the weather had fairly chilled him to the bone.

Because it really was, as Arthur may have pointed out at some point, really jolly cold.

‘Anyway,’ added Douglas, hoping that a change in conversation topic might prompt Arthur into ushering them in, ‘Happy Birthday.’

‘M-many hupp-puppy ret-trns,’ shivered Martin.

Arthur’s face lit up with the glow of a small neutron bomb. ‘Happy my-Birthday to you,’ he sang, proudly, ‘Happy my-Birthday to you, Happy my-Birthday, dear Douglas and Skipper, Happy my-Birthday to you! Hooray!’ He paused. ‘Can we go inside, now? I’m starting to get pretty cold.’

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FILL: Boggle By Firelight 1b/?


(Anonymous)
2011-09-06 09:01 pm UTC (link)
‘They say it might even snow,’ added Arthur merrily as he led the two pilots through into the living room. ‘Mum says she wouldn’t trust the Met Office to predict what day’s going to come after Wednesday so not to get my hopes up, but as far as I see it, my hopes are just naturally always up anyway, so why lower them just because it’s my birthday? Because it’s never snowed on my birthday before and snow on my birthday would. Be. Brilliant. We could make snow angels! And Snow Jesus! And Snow Richard Dawkins, for the Atheists!’

‘Or,’ added Carolyn, from what Douglas gathered to be a deliberately inconspicuous distance away from Herc on the sofa, we could make nice, hot cups of tea and watch people struggling away from the bus stop from the warmth of the kitchen, as is my favourite pastime when it snows. Not that we’re even going to do that, because it is not, I repeat, not going to snow today.

‘I don’t know.’ Herc was peering out of the bay window. Presumably, Douglas supposed, so as not to be seen staring at, looking at or in any conceivable way making eyes at Carolyn. ‘There’s quite a bit of cloud starting to gather out there.’

Carolyn groaned ‘You pilots and your clouds. You’re all obsessed with the silly, fluffy little things.’

‘Aren’t you getting clouds confused with Air Stewardesses?’ asked Douglas, giving Herc a little not-so-friendly nudge as he passed.

‘I do that, sometimes,’ said Arthur.

Douglas peered out at the cloud in question. Nothing too dark or ominous. ‘You might get a flurry if you’re lucky, Arthur.’

‘Yes!’ Arthur shrieked, startling the dog. ‘Maybe we can have my cake outside in the snow after the pub. Or maybe we can sledge to the pub after we’ve watched my present!’

‘You… want us to watch your present?’ Martin was still rubbing at his arms, by the radiator. He shot the others a glance of alarm. ‘This isn’t like when you kept showing us that electronic singing fish you got for Christmas, is it?’

‘No. Although Freddy Fish was absolutely amazing. He’s still up in my room. No. This is my present that I want us to watch!’ He held aloft the latest Harry Potter DVD, humming what he obviously thought was the Harry Potter theme but was in fact “In The Hall of the Mountain King”. ‘Mum got it for me! Isn’t it brilliant? Nobody tell me how it ends!’

‘Arthur,’ argued Carolyn, ‘you saw it at the cinema. Twice!’

‘Yes, Mum, but this is the DVD!’

‘It’s still going to end the same…’

‘Shush, Mum! I told you not to tell me how it ends!’

Carolyn squeezed the bridge of her nose, with a soft sigh. ‘His 30th Birthday, and he wants to spend it watching Harry Potter and playing in the snow.’

‘Sounds better than my 30th Birthday,’ muttered Martin.

Douglas didn’t say anything, but remembered the frankly horrific, drunken row he’d had with Mrs Richardson mark 1 on his 30th – the one that had knocked the final nail into their marriage’s coffin. If he was to be honest, then even Martin’s 30th had been preferable to his own. Luckily for him, Douglas wasn’t going to be honest.

‘I’ll draw the curtains,’ Douglas offered. ‘Do we have any popcorn?’

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Re: FILL: Boggle By Firelight 1b/?


[identity profile] perhael.livejournal.com
2011-09-06 10:09 pm UTC (link)
This is great so far. I lost it at Arthur wanting to make a snow Richard Dawkins for the atheists. And again when Arthur admits he sometimes confuses clouds and air stewardesses. Brilliant!

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Re: FILL: Boggle By Firelight 1b/?


[identity profile] minim-calibre.livejournal.com
2011-09-07 12:41 am UTC (link)
We could make snow angels! And Snow Jesus! And Snow Richard Dawkins, for the Atheists!’

Brilliant!

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Re: FILL: Boggle By Firelight 1b/?


[identity profile] elvendork-lee.livejournal.com
2011-09-07 08:49 am UTC (link)
We could make snow angels! And Snow Jesus! And Snow Richard Dawkins, for the Atheists!

Presumably, Douglas supposed, so as not to be seen staring at, looking at or in any conceivable way making eyes at Carolyn.

Haha, BRILLIANT!! XD I love it. Poor Martin and (don't get to say this very often) poor Douglas. :( But I'm sure this is going to make up for their bad birthdays - Arthur won't mind sharing. :)

His 30th Birthday, and he wants to spend it watching Harry Potter and playing in the snow.

I'm with Arthur. That is EXACTLY how I want to spend my 30th birthday. XD

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Re: FILL: Boggle By Firelight 1b/? - Author's Snow Angst Issues


(Anonymous)
2011-09-07 12:40 pm UTC (link)
It snowed on Anon-Author's 30th birthday, which would have been really cool had it not meant my surprise weekend in a farmhouse with a dozen of my friends had to be cancelled because the road to it was completely impossible to get a car down :(

Maybe I'm making up for it by making Arthur's birthday snowy in a fun way rather than a ruining everything way!

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FILL: Boggle By Firelight 2a/?


(Anonymous)
2011-09-07 10:26 pm UTC (link)
5pm

As was his habit having watched a film that he had really enjoyed (every film he had ever seen, in other words), Arthur burst into wild applause as soon as the credits started to roll.

‘Amazing,’ he beamed, actually standing up as if if he did so, the film might play him an encore. ‘Brilliant. Wow! Who saw that ending coming?!?’

‘Well, you must have done, surely,’ replied Douglas, ‘if you’ve already seen it twice.’

‘Yeah, but who’d have known they’d go with keeping exactly the same ending they’d used in the cinema on the DVD?’ asked Arthur, delighted. ‘What a twist!’

‘Well.’ Hercules got up from his still-suspiciously-right-at-the-other-end-of-the-living-room-from-Carolyn spot, and stretched out. ‘Now that we’ve immersed ourselves in the Wizarding World, I for one fancy immersing myself in a pint of bitter and a vegetable pie.’ He threw open the curtains. ‘Who else is for the pu… oh.’

Douglas knew immediately that something was very wrong with the light coming through the window. Along with the others, he got to his feet and looked out.

The sun must have only just started to set, but was doing so behind a slate grey-green cloud that covered the entire sky and had already made it look as dark as night. Everything else in view outside the window was made up of soft, round mounds of orangey white as the streetlights on the other side of Carolyn’s tall front garden wall cast an artificial glow on all the snow.

And bloody hell, there was a lot of snow. At least 9 inches had managed to settle during the film, and fat flakes were continuing to drift silently down. On the now completely blanketed driveway, his and Herc’s cars looked liked cars that had died several years ago and come back to haunt the Earth, scaring living cars into mending their mean spirited, car-y ways.

‘A “little flurry”…?’ quoted Carolyn, archly.

‘More like an Avalanche,’ said Herc.

Martin joined then at the window. ‘More like God decided to pick up Antarctica and shake it upside down over Fitton.’

Arthur pushed past them all, and pressed his face up against the window.

‘Oh. My. Crikeys,’ he gasped. ‘Wow with a capital city. This is amazing! It’s like the world’s hiding!’ He sprang away from the window again. ‘I’ll go and get the sledges!’

‘As much as I’m sure we’d all love to dash through the snow in a one-Arthur open sleigh,’ Douglas told him, ‘I’m afraid this sudden snowdrift means we’ll regrettably have to cut your birthday party short.’

Arthur stopped in his tracks. ‘What? Oh, no! Why?’

‘We’re going to have to dig the cars out,’ Martin explained. ‘It’s bad enough as it is – if we don’t take action now, we’ll never get home.’

‘Oh, but you can stay here! Can’t they, Mum? Say yes, Mum. Sleepover!’

‘Arthur,’ warned Carolyn warned.

‘Oh, come on, Mum, there’s room. And Herc’s sleeping over anyway, what difference does it make if Douglas and Skipper do, too?’

‘Arthur!’ Carolyn’s expression was as frosty as the scene outside.

Douglas arched an eyebrow at Hercules, who was suddenly as interested in the curtains as Martin apparently was in his own shoes.

‘As comfortable as that would be for all concerned,’ replied Douglas after a moment, ‘I think it would be better if we headed off before Fitton gets any more lethally picturesque. Where do you keep your shovel, Carolyn?’

‘Garden shed,’ Carolyn told him. ‘Come on.’

‘Oh, yes!’ Arthur cried. ‘Let’s all go into the garden!’

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Re: FILL: Boggle By Firelight 2b/?


(Anonymous)
2011-09-07 10:29 pm UTC (link)
5.20pm

After a little wrangling over Arthur being told to put a coat and gloves on, Arthur stating that that wasn’t fair because Skipper didn’t have gloves or a coat, Martin then being told to put Arthur’s old Parka and spare gloves on, Martin complaining that the gloves were women’s gloves, Arthur explaining that no they weren’t, they were just really nice and colourful, if a bit small but that shouldn’t bother Martin since he only had little hands anyway, Arthur asking if he and Skip could wear those matching hats that Granny had knitted that time she’d forgotten Arthur wasn’t a twin, Martin saying no, he was fine without a hat, Arthur going to get the hats, Martin saying no, really, he was fine and Arthur looking hurt until Martin caved and put the hat on, they were ready to brave that garden. Carolyn opened the door and both Snoopadoop and Arthur bounded out instantly, leaping through the deep snow with combinations of surprise and wonder, limbs thrashing, ears and scarf respectively flapping behind them, leaving wobbly trails in the whiteness wherever they went.

Carolyn sighed, trudging a line through Arthur’s large snow footprint spiral towards the shed. ‘It’s like they’re brother and sister. Some sort of terrifying manchild-dog hybrid, rolled into two hairy, over-enthusiastic specimens.’

They reached the shed, only to find that the snow had collected even deeper at that end of the garden and was now packed almost a foot high against the shed wall.

‘You don’t happen to have a back-up spade with which we can liberate your main spade, do you?’ Douglas asked.

‘You’ve got four,’ Carolyn replied. ‘Two hands, two feet. Get to it.’

‘Carolyn, I’ve already got snow in both of my shoes…’

‘So have I.’ Martin started kicking snow away. ‘So they’re hardly going to get any colder or wetter, are they? Just tell your feet that the sooner we get the spade, the sooner we can get the car off the drive, the sooner you can get them home and put them in some dry socks. That’s how I’m appeasing mine, right now.’

Douglas started to heft away the snow, grudgingly.

‘You know,’ he told Carolyn, ‘it’s in your interest for us not to get snowed in here, too. You could help out.’

‘Skip!’ called Arthur from the garden beyond.

‘I am,’ Carolyn replied. ‘I’m undoing the padlock.’

‘Or at least,’ added Herc, ‘that’s what you’re doing in theory. Is the key jammed?’

‘Just a little sticky,’ Carolyn told them, struggling with the lock.

Douglas straightened up. ‘Let me try.’

‘It’s stuck?’ Martin was starting to panic. ‘It’s stuck, isn’t it?’

‘I’ve jimmied open many a padlock in my time,’ Douglas soothed. ‘It just needs a little persuasion.’

‘I think what it needs,’ said Herc, ‘is not to be frozen.’

‘Skip!’ called Arthur, again.

‘Little bit busy right now,’ Martin called back, and turned back to the others. ‘So the door’s jammed with snow and the lock’s frozen up. Perfect.’

‘We can scoop away the snow,’ said Douglas, inspecting the padlock, ‘and surely Carolyn has de-icer.’

‘Yes, I do,’ replied Carolyn. ‘It’s in the shed.’

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Re: FILL: Boggle By Firelight 2c/? - (Anonymous), 2011-09-07 10:31 pm UTC (Expand)
Re: FILL: Boggle By Firelight 2c/? - (Anonymous), 2012-08-09 09:10 pm UTC (Expand)

Re: FILL: Boggle By Firelight 1b/?


[personal profile] hajimebassaidai
2013-03-09 06:51 pm UTC (link)
Poor Martin, frozen in his 90's demin jacket, the Carolyn-and-Herc show, Arthur's endless enthusaism and all of Douglas' internal commentary is just fantastic!

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Re: FILL: Boggle By Firelight 1a/? - Author notices mistake straight away, is annoyed.


(Anonymous)
2011-09-06 09:05 pm UTC (link)
Oh, bother, look at Arthur calling Martin Martin & not Skip in one of the very first lines! Silly of me.

- Anon.

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FILL: Boggle By Firelight 3a/?


(Anonymous)
2011-09-08 10:31 pm UTC (link)
5.45pm

‘There’s plenty of clean sheets, at least,’ said Carolyn as Herc put on the kettle. ‘A guest room, sofa bed and so on. We’ll all fit, for the night. We should probably knock the pub on the head, too, but there’s plenty of food for supper and I think Arthur’s enjoying his birthday perfectly well without a pie and a pint…’

As if on cue, the kitchen door swung open and Arthur happily skipped through, trailing a snow-caked Martin.

‘Snow plane’s finished!’ He chirped. ‘In the end it turned out not to be Concorde, it’s the RAF’s Typhoo.’

‘RAF Typhoon Jet,’ corrected Martin.

‘Yes. That.’ Arthur spotted the kettle being boiled. ‘Oohh, cocoa! Brilliant.’

‘We were just discussing the practicalities of sleeping arrangements, since I’m stuck with everyone, now,’ continued Carolyn.

Arthur punched the air, accidentally hitting the overhead light as he did so. ‘Sleepover! Sleepover!’

‘I’d say that Douglas and Martin can fight it out as to who gets the guest bedroom, but let’s not kid ourselves, shall we? There’s a perfectly good zed bed in Arthur’s room that you can use, Martin.’

‘Oh, now wait just a minute…’ started Martin.

‘Oh, can’t I take the zed bed, Skip?’ asked Arthur. ‘I love that zed bed. Sometimes I get it out and sleep in it even when we haven’t got guests. The springs squeak a little tune every time you turn over!’

‘One little question, Carolyn,’ added Douglas. ‘If I am staying in the guest room, then where on earth is poor old Hercules going to lay his weary head? Not in with me, surely – I know we’re old friends, but we’re not quite at the stage where I’m comfortable sharing a double bed with him.’

Herc drew breath to say something.

‘After all, legend has it that he snores terribly. And even gets the occasional Night Terror.’ Douglas paused, inspecting a thumbnail. ‘At least, that’s what all the Stewardesses at Air England used to say.’

Carolyn treated Douglas to one of her coldest, sharpest smiles. ‘There is a sofa bed in the living room.’

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Re: FILL: Boggle By Firelight 3a/?


(Anonymous)
2011-09-08 10:33 pm UTC (link)
‘The sofa bed?!?’ Arthur’s mouth fell open – his face taking on the expression of a small child who’d just remembered he’d left a packet of sweets in his pocket the day before and that by rights they should still be there for the eating. ‘Oh, Mum, can I change my mind? Can me and Skipper have the sofa bed, and Herc can have my bed and the zed bed too, if he likes?’

‘Why is it automatically being assumed that, wherever I end up sleeping, it’ll be sharing something with Arthur?’ Martin protested. ‘This is my Aunt Gladys’ house and the “kids’ table” all over again.’

‘Might I offer another suggestion?’ asked Herc.

‘She still makes me sit at it now,’ lamented Martin over him, to anybody who would listen.

‘It’s not as if Douglas and Martin live in another town,’ continued Herc. ‘Couldn’t they just walk home?’

‘Hercules,’ retorted Carolyn, sternly, ‘this house is hardly the most accessible to the rest of Fitton by foot. It’s over three miles to Douglas’ house, almost four to Martin’s. I’m not sending my two pilots out to walk that far in the middle of a blizzard.’

Douglas blinked. ‘That’s surprisingly hospitable of you, Carolyn.’

‘It is not,’ Carolyn replied, haughtily. ‘I’m simply being practical. I need two pilots to fly my plane. Unfortunately, all I can afford is Laurel & Hardy, here. One; a former alcoholic in his late 40s whose waistline bears witness to his overindulgence in almost everything, and whose only exercise seems to be occasionally imposing himself on top of some poor woman or other who may or may not happen to be his wife at the time…’

‘Carolyn,’ protested Douglas.

‘And, two,’ continued Carolyn, ‘a man who looks like a drawing of a sad-faced Victorian orphan.’ She ignored Martin’s indignant squeak. ‘Who weighs about as much as Kate Moss, is currently wearing trainers that are already soaked through, and is shivering even in a warm coat, gloves and a hat. So when one of them keels over of a heart attack from fighting through miles of shin-deep snow and the other succumbs to pneumonia in his draughty little attic, and I can’t replace them, my company goes bust. And I don’t want that. So, we shall all stay here tonight, in the warm, Arthur will fetch dry socks for Oliver Twist here so that he doesn’t die of consumption, with any luck there’ll be enough of a thaw tomorrow to clear the roads and we can all go our separate ways knowing we’ll live to fly my plane another day.’ Carolyn paused. ‘Well, hop to it, then. Socks. Tea and cocoa. Organise where you’re all sleeping and what you want to cook me for supper.’

‘I’ll investigate the fridge then, shall I?’ asked Douglas. ‘Not sure about what vegetarian options there are, Hercules. I’m sure there’s some cress or something that you can eat.’

‘I’ll cook something for myself,’ said Herc, seeing to the teas.

‘Socks for Skipper,’ said Arthur. ‘Gotcha.’

‘I don’t look like a sad-faced Victorian orphan,’ complained Martin.

‘You sort-of do,’ Arthur told him. ‘The kind you’d expect to see with his face pressed up against a restaurant window.’

‘Toad in the hole?’ Suggested Douglas, looking at the ingredients available. ‘I could do it with a nice onion gravy.’

‘See?’ Arthur pointed at Martin. ‘There it is. The “sad orphan with his nose against the window” face. You get it most times somebody suggests giving you a nice dinner.’

‘I do not!’

Arthur had already turned to head towards the stairs. ‘What kind of socks do you want, Skip? I’ve got some with my name on, or some with the day of the week on, as long as it’s Tuesday…’

‘I’ll just have plain ones. Thank you.’ Martin followed Arthur. As he passed the hall light switch, as was, Douglas had noticed, an automatic habit of Martin’s, he switched off the unneeded light.

That was the moment that everything - Everything went completely black. The hall, the kitchen, the whole house, the garden outside the kitchen window and the street beyond.

‘Oh, Martin,’ sighed Douglas in the darkness. ‘What have you done now?’

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Re: FILL: Boggle By Firelight 3a/?


[identity profile] lady-t-220.livejournal.com
2011-09-08 11:28 pm UTC (link)
Oh, curse you, now I really want toad in the hole.
*lol*

Sad-faced Victorian orphan -you're right, it is strangely appropriate.

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Re: FILL: Boggle By Firelight 3a/?


[identity profile] elvendork-lee.livejournal.com
2011-09-09 08:51 am UTC (link)
I want to copy and paste all my favourite lines, but a briefer way to explain might be: see those words you posted, Anon-Author? Those are my favourite ones. Ever. And hear those happy squeaky noises? They're me, reading them. XD ♥♥♥ Love this story so much. Just...everything about it! Going to stop now before I list it all anyway...

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Re: FILL: Boggle By Firelight 3a/?


(Anonymous)
2011-09-09 11:05 am UTC (link)
I want to wrap this fic around me because it's sooo lovely <3

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Re: FILL: Boggle By Firelight 4a/?


(Anonymous)
2011-09-10 10:26 pm UTC (link)
6.10pm

‘It wasn’t me,’ said Martin for the 5th time as they used a penlight to search the cupboards under the sink for any more torches. ‘I only switched the hall light off!’

‘I still think we should check the fuse box,’ Arthur said. ‘Once I can remember what you do with it. And where it is.’

‘I doubt that it’s possible to blow all the fuses in the street just by switching off a light,’ added Herc.

‘Probably not,’ retorted Douglas, ‘but if anybody were able to achieve such a feat, let’s face it – it would be Martin.’

‘Oh, thank you very much, Douglas.’

Douglas just shrugged. ‘I have faith in my Captain.’

Carolyn came through into the kitchen, by the light of her mobile phone. ‘Downed power cable,’ she explained. ‘Half of Fitton’s out, apparently. Those idiots at the electricity company didn’t seem to have any idea when it’ll be fixed.’

‘Oh, marvellous,’ groaned Martin.

‘Isn’t it, though?’ enthused Arthur with his usual complete absence of irony. ‘This is exciting! It’s like in the war! Only, we’re not even being bombed, it’s just all snowy instead. Brilliant!’

‘Be of a stout heart, Little Dorrit,’ Carolyn told Martin. ‘It’s not that bad. The oven may be electric, but the hob is gas, at least.’

‘Great,’ Martin grumbled, ‘we’ll all gather around a hot gas ring for warmth in this blizzard then, shall we?’

‘Don’t be silly,’ Arthur chirruped from the gloom. ‘We’ve got a fire. Well. A fireplace, but we can make a fire in it.’

‘I always assumed that that was ornamental,’ Douglas admitted. ‘There’s never been any hint of a fire having been lit in it since the invention of radiators.’

‘And generally, Douglas, that is the case,’ replied Carolyn, pulling away the boxes that had been blocking the door to the cupboard under the stairs. ‘A roaring fire may be pretty, but it’s far too much fuss and bother when you can just stick on the central heating instead. However, on this occasion I think the inconvenience of fuelling and lighting the wretched thing might just about be preferable to the nuisance of dying of hypothermia.’ She opened the cupboard door. ‘Et voila! All the home comforts that the Middle Ages have to offer. Firewood and candles.’

Carolyn started passing candles out. There were at least two dozen of the things – some in glass jars, some covered in glitter, some sculpted to look like fruit, and all faintly smelling of a combination of old candle wax and faded perfume.

‘Haven’t you got a lot of candles?’ Hercules noted. ‘Are you in training to be a Gregorian monk?’

‘Of course I have a lot of candles, Hercules, I’m a woman. You remember that phase everybody seemed to go through around a decade ago where, if they needed to get a present for a woman and didn’t know what she’d like, they just got her a scented candle…?’ Carolyn glanced across at the others. ‘Well, of course you don’t, you’re all men. In any case, that’s why I have half of Wax Lyrical under my stairs. Obviously I’m just the type of woman that nobody knows what sort of present to get for. Thank goodness everybody just gets you wine or gift tokens these days. Anyway.’ She pulled out a fire lighter. ‘What shall we have in the kitchen, do you think? Vanilla, spiced orange or sandalwood?’

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FILL: Boggle By Firelight 4b/?


(Anonymous)
2011-09-10 10:27 pm UTC (link)
7pm

The kitchen and living room were filled now with dancing firelight shadows and a mishmash of smells – artificial lavender and white musk here and there, thankfully overpowered by the very genuine smell of a crackling wood fire in the kitchen and that of a jolly good fry-up in the kitchen.

‘Trying to bring all of our cholesterol levels up to your own high setting?’ Carolyn asked, poking half-heartedly at a pan of tinned tomatoes.

‘Couldn’t exactly do toad in the hole on a hob,’ replied Douglas. ‘I thought I’d put the sausages and eggs to good use, anyway.’ He raised his voice so as to be heard in the living room beyond. ‘Not vegan too are you, Hercules? Won’t faint at the sight of eggy bread?’

‘Not at all,’ called Herc. ‘And I’ll have the extra slice, since you’re all getting my share of the sausages.’

‘Damn,’ muttered Douglas, returning to the tomatoes.

Carolyn prodded a wooden spoon at another gently simmering pan. ‘Douglas, either these smelly candles have completely shot my olfactory system, or you’re currently heating up a bottle of red wine that smells like pudding.

‘I found a cheap bottle of Rioja on your wine shelf,’ Douglas told her, ‘so I mulled it for you. Well – mulled it as well as I could. A couple of oranges, a dash of nutmeg, you had a couple of cinnamon sticks lingering in your spice rack…’

‘I did?’ Carolyn seemed genuinely surprised ‘The spice rack is generally where I leave funny little bottles of stuff to die.’

‘Yes, I’d noticed. I had to throw your paprika away – something was living in it.’ Douglas took a slurp of his own, specially mulled apple juice. ‘Right,’ he called, ‘the fry-up is fried. How are things going in there?’

Arthur came bounding in with far more bounce than was probably safe in a kitchen filled with hot fat and naked flames. ‘Good news! I got my laptop up and running, and found something good for us all to watch on iPlayer! Not so good news – that was when the battery died.’

‘Oh.’

‘But!’ Arthur started windmilling his arms in excitement, narrowly missing an incense scented candle as he did, ‘really, really, really amazingly good news: I found the Boggle!’

‘Oh,’ drawled Douglas. ‘Goody.’

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FILL: Boggle By Firelight 5a/?


(Anonymous)
2011-09-12 10:41 pm UTC (link)
7.45pm

‘OK.’ Martin peered at his sheet of paper in the flickering firelight. ‘Jam.’

‘I’ve got jam,’ said Carolyn, striking the word off.

‘Me too.’

‘And me.’

‘I’ve got jam,’ announced Arthur, ‘jams, jammier, jammiest, jammist…’

‘”Jammist”?’ repeated Martin, irritably scribbling out both “jam” and “jams”.

‘Yeah,’ replied Arthur. ‘Someone who hates jam just because it’s jam. Like a racist.’

‘No, Arthur. That’s a made-up word. You’re not allowed that one. Remember how we spoke about that, earlier?’

‘No? Oh, all right.’ Arthur took a swig of wine and waited for Martin to carry on.

Douglas noticed that both of the younger men were slurping rather enthusiastically at the mulled wine. Martin, Douglas supposed, because it was hot and tasted good, much like the fry-up he had wolfed down like a man who hadn’t eaten any lunch – which was quite likely the case. Arthur just generally did everything enthusiastically, drinking being no exception.

‘Um,’ said Martin. ‘Ham.’

‘Got that.’

‘Me too.’

‘And me.’

‘Ham,’ listed Arthur, ‘hams, hammier, hammiest, hammer, hammerer, hammeriest, hammest, hammist, hamming…’

‘You’re just using pretend words again!’ Martin protested.

‘Are none of them real?’ Arthur didn’t look downhearted at all, just curious.

‘Everything up to “hammeriest” was,’ Douglas told him. ‘That’s a lot of points. Well done.’

‘Oh! Arthur grinned. ‘Good-oh!’

‘Don’t you even know which words are real and which aren’t?’ asked Martin, infuriated. ‘Arthur – do you just write down lots of letter chains that look like they might possibly be real words, and hope that they are?’

‘Oh, Skip!’ Arthur looked utterly impressed. ‘You worked out my Boggle strategy! Well done!’

‘You can’t do that!’

‘I did. I do. It’s my Boggle strategy.’

‘But it’s cheating!’

Arthur frowned a little at that. ‘Is it? I’m fairly certain that Mum would have mentioned that at least once over the last 20 years.’

‘Martin,’ said Carolyn, ‘does it really matter?’

‘Yes it does! Check the rule sheet!’

‘We can’t,’ Arthur told him. ‘Snoopadoop ate it. I had to sift her poo just so we could remember how many points you got for an 8 letter word.’

Martin sighed wearily, took another swig of mulled wine and turned back to his score sheet. ‘Lame.’

‘Got that.’

‘So have I.’

‘Me too.’

‘Lame,’ listed Arthur, ‘lamer, lamier, lamiest, lamist, lamming, lammer…’

Douglas reclined his easy chair & closed his eyes. This was going to take a while.

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FILL: Boggle By Firelight 5b/?


(Anonymous)
2011-09-12 10:43 pm UTC (link)
9pm

‘Anyone want another round?’ Arthur asked, shaking the Boggle tray, once Carolyn and Hercules had disappeared into the kitchen with the washing up. ‘Chance to even up the scores?’

‘Arthur, you’re 200 points ahead of Douglas,’ Martin groaned. ‘250 points ahead of me. There’s no way any of us could possibly even the score.’

‘Well, not with that attitude, you won’t,’ countered Arthur, cheerily.

At Arthur’s request, the sofa bed had already been pulled out and made up. At one point around half an hour previously, Martin had switched positions to peer at the Boggle tray from a new vantage point at the edge of the sofa bed, shivered considerably since this meant he wasn’t as close to the fire and then slowly, quietly crept under the covers as the game had proceeded. He was now lying with the duvet up to his shoulders, pink faced in the fire’s glow from the wine. Arthur, similarly ruddy-cheeked, flopped down beside Martin on the bed.

A quietness fell over the living room, punctuated occasionally by a gust of wind that shook snow from branches, rattled window panes and howled across chimneys, the crackle and pop of the fire, and snatches of Carolyn and Hercules’ conversation in the kitchen beyond.

‘I don’t see why you can’t do any washing-up yourself.’

‘I oversaw supper.’

‘You didn’t do anything.’

‘I bought the sausages.’

‘Which I didn’t eat.’

‘That’s not my fault. And I’m boiling the water.’

‘You’re just standing next to a pan as it heats on the hob.’

‘And wouldn’t your job of washing up be so much harder were I not standing next to a pan as it heats on the hob?’

Unable to stand the outrageous flirting a moment longer, Douglas spoke up from his very warm and comfortable spot, thank you very much, in the recliner by the fire.

‘New game. Rhyming journeys of the rich and famous.’

‘Not more rhyming journeys,’ grumbled Martin.

‘Marilyn Monroe, departing from Heathrow,’ said Douglas.

Martin sighed deeply, thinking. ‘Um. Isaac Newton, arriving in Luton.’

‘Very good.’ Douglas rested his clasped hands behind his head. ‘Are you playing with Martin, Arthur?’

Arthur looked up, a little bewildered, frozen like a bunny in the headlights, if bunnies ever got caught in the headlights while half-way under the duvet of a sofa bed. ‘No, I wasn’t, I swear, I was just getting under the covers because it was a bit cold.’

‘He means, the word game,’ retorted Martin, shuffling awkwardly away from Arthur a tad. ‘I hope.’

‘Oh! I might sit this one out. Still don’t quite understand the rules of these games of Douglas’s.’

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FILL: Boggle By Firelight 5c/? - (Anonymous), 2011-09-12 10:44 pm UTC (Expand)
Re: FILL: Boggle By Firelight 5c/? - (Anonymous), 2011-09-13 01:36 pm UTC (Expand)

FILL: Boggle By Firelight 6/?


(Anonymous)
2011-09-13 10:22 pm UTC (link)
9.15pm

What a very romantic scene welcomed Douglas as he wandered out into the kitchen. Bathed in merry candlelight, Carolyn stood, cross-armed, next to the hob while Hercules, resplendent in a pair of marigolds, scraped fat from the pans at the sink.

‘I’m fairly certain it’s against the vegetarian ethos to clean up the fat of poor animals that other people have eaten,’ muttered Hercules.

‘Oh, well I’ll tell you what,’ retorted Carolyn, ‘after you’ve done this, you can go into the garage, build a time machine out of whatever odds and ends you can find there, go back and complain to Ghandi about what a terrible person I am.’ She looked across at Douglas. ‘Everything all right in there? It’s all gone very quiet.’ She paused – a look of horror crossing her face. ‘Good God, they’re not playing charades, are they?’

‘The children,’ Douglas announced, ‘are nestled all snug in their bed, as visions of sugarplums dance in their heads. Well. I imagine that’s what’s in Arthur’s head, at least. Martin’s probably dreaming about Boeing 757s. That, or Nigella Lawson again. Whatever it is, it’s a happy place he’s in.’

‘Bit early for them to hit the hay, isn’t it?’ asked Hercules.

‘I don’t think either of them planned it,’ said Douglas. ‘Martin told me he was up at half five for a delivery today.’

‘And with it being Arthur’s birthday, he was up at a similar time.’ Carolyn stifled a yawn. ‘As was I.’

Douglas went back to rifling through the tea caddy. ‘Got anything here that’s decaf?’

‘No, because I’m not a health freak or a hippie. What’s the point of decaf?’

‘Well, Carolyn, sometimes people fancy a hot drink before bed that isn’t packed with stimulants.’

‘There’s Horlicks in the cupboard. I stuck the milk out in the snow. Colder there than in the powerless fridge.’

‘Saucepan-heated Horlicks, at a quarter past nine,’ sighed Douglas. ‘Well, after all, it is Friday night. Why not go mad?’

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FILL: Boggle By Firelight 6b/?


(Anonymous)
2011-09-13 10:23 pm UTC (link)
9.50pm

The snow had stopped falling, at last, bar the flakes that were blown down from the trees by the wind that moaned and blustered and scuttled about the house. Douglas set down the cup, and watched the fire. The flames had died down now, leaving hot, glowing embers in their place. Neither Arthur nor Martin had woken up, nor did either seem likely to do so in the near future. He’d shared rooms with both Martin and Arthur before, but had generally been too busy catching up on sleep to pay much attention to their sleeping habits. Martin was foetally hunched on his side - his face calm and delicate, and unwittingly turned towards Arthur so that his nose almost brushed the Birthday Boy’s ear. Arthur was sprawled on his back, his mouth slightly open, one arm splayed over the catatonic captain. He drooled a little, and smiled in his sleep. Asleep in the dim firelight, with Martin all small and peaceful, and Arthur’s blissfully innocent snores, they really did appear like a couple of kids on a sleepover.

In the kitchen, Carolyn and Hercules were arguing about hot water bottles.

Douglas gave up on spending any more of the evening awake, picked up a candle and went upstairs to the guest bedroom. The bed was freshly made, with cotton sheets and a lovely, soft duvet. Unfortunately, it was in a large, dark room that was absolutely bloody freezing. He stared at it for a while, shivering even in his jumper, then hefted the duvet off the bed, slung it under one arm while carefully keeping the candle out at arm’s length in the other hand, and left the room. He bumped into Hercules on the landing – almost literally.

‘Oh,’ said Hercules, conversationally, ‘hullo. I’d ask if you were off to bed, but you seem to be moving your bed elsewhere.’

‘Never mind outside in the snow,’ replied Douglas, ‘Carolyn should stick the milk in that guest bedroom. For once, I think Arthur and Martin might have had the best idea – I’m going to sleep by the fire.’

‘Oh, right.’ Hercules nodded. ‘Turning in, myself.’ He held aloft a hot water bottle. ‘Should warm things up.’

‘I see,’ said Douglas.

‘Well,’ added Hercules, a little awkwardly, ‘night.’

‘Good night,’ replied Douglas, not moving from his spot.

There was a moment’s stalemate before Hercules slowly put his hand on the door to Arthur’s room, pushed it open and stepped inside.

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FILL: Boggle By Firelight 6c/? - (Anonymous), 2011-09-13 10:25 pm UTC (Expand)
Re: FILL: Boggle By Firelight 6c/? - (Anonymous), 2011-09-14 07:20 pm UTC (Expand)

FILL: Boggle By Firelight 7a/7


(Anonymous)
2011-09-17 03:19 pm UTC (link)
7.56am

The first few times that Douglas had been jolted awake by Arthur’s wordless “I have woken and it is a new day and I’m just so happy to be alive and conscious with the whole day of fun ahead of me” morning cry, it had startled him, rather. He was as used to it these days as the harsh chirrup of an alarm clock, and at least, this was rather more full of joi de vivre.

‘Happy morning-after-our-sleepover!’ Arthur shouted, standing bolt upright in the sofa bed, then bounding over towards the window, capsizing a still half-asleep Martin out onto the floor as he did so. ‘Look at all that snow! Wow! It looks all twinkly in the sunshine! Skip! Skip! Skipskipskip can we build another snow plane?’

‘Ow,’ was all that Martin had to add, for the time being.

‘Oh well,’ said Douglas, ‘if the sun’s out, there’s a chance that there might be a thaw today.’

Martin looked up. ‘If the snow’s stopped, we could always walk home.’

‘We could,’ replied Douglas. ‘But let’s think about that after breakfast, shall we? I’ve got no particularly pressing engagements today, and since your van will still be grounded in this sort of snow, I can’t imagine you will, either.’

Martin nodded. Shivering again now that he had been bounced out of the duvet, Douglas noticed.

‘I’ll go and boil some water,’ Douglas announced.

8.45am

By the time Carolyn eventually surfaced, Douglas was on to his 2nd cup of tea, sitting at the kitchen table, watching a stockpot full of water as it gradually heated up on the gas hob.

‘Good gracious,’ she said as she helped herself to the hot water from the milk pan for her own much needed caffeination, ‘are we making tea for the BFG?’

‘Alas,’ said Douglas, ‘no giants have dropped by thus far this morning – if they had, your son would currently be outside with them, making the most impressive snow angels the world had ever seen. There are, however, now five people in this house rather in need of a morning spruce-up, and I thought, given the current temperature, it would be more comfortable to have a strip-wash with warm water than a cold shower.’

‘Ah, I see.’ She paused, adding the milk to two cups of coffee. ‘I should probably go upstairs and tell Hercules that. When I left him, he was bracing himself for what he described as “a brisk wash”.’

‘Oh, leave him to it,’ shrugged Douglas. ‘We pilots are made of stern stuff. Besides, perhaps he could do with a cold shower.’

Carolyn narrowed her eyes. ‘Must you, really?’

‘Oh, I must.’ Douglas took a sip of tea. ‘It’s not as if you don’t know jolly well that, if it were Martin or Arthur or I in possession of a new paramour, you would be enjoying fresh opportunity to have a little light-hearted fun at our expense.’

‘I have never made fun of my son, whenever he’s started seeing someone new,’ replied Carolyn, haughtily. ‘Granted, if you or Martin started bouncing around all starry-eyed I’d have a dig, but that’s only because you’d both be utterly infuriating. With Arthur, I only ever concern myself with whether whatever honking Sloane he’s picked up next is good enough for him. And don’t judge me for that. When your daughter’s older, you’ll be just the same.’

‘I suppose.’

‘Goodness knows, you and Martin could do with somebody to perform a similar vetting process,’ Carolyn continued. ‘Maybe then you wouldn’t be on your 3rd divorce and he wouldn’t have to suffer humiliating put-downs by whichever stuck-up succubus of a passenger he’s decided is just dreamy on a particular flight.’

‘Quite,’ replied Douglas, returning to his tea, as Carolyn picked up the coffees. ‘And, Carolyn?’

‘Yes?’

‘Ditto.’

‘Oh, do shut up, you soppy sod.’

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Re: FILL: Boggle By Firelight 7b/7


(Anonymous)
2011-09-17 03:20 pm UTC (link)
11.30am

Douglas stood on the decking, the bright Winter sun in his eyes, and surveyed the roads. The main road in front of the house was now clear, and even the smaller road to the side of the house looked traversable. All about him, melted snow dripped off rooftops and trees. He could tell that there wouldn’t be a full thaw that day, but enough of a melt to make things start getting back to normal.

He’d wondered vaguely whether the thawing snow would have disappointed Arthur at all. Of course, it hadn’t. Watching snow melt was, apparently, “brilliant”. As had been the power coming back, twenty minutes ago. Douglas had left Arthur switching lights on and off, and laughing about how one rarely noticed how great light bulbs were until one had to do without them for a while.

This had been shortly after Arthur had gone into the utility cupboard to fetch a mop, following an incident with the stockpot full of, thankfully by then only blood temperature water, and had discovered that the spade had been in there all along, rather than the shed.

Douglas could be home by lunchtime. Peace & quiet – his own bed, his own space. Time to read a book, or do a crossword, or just listen to the radio.

Alone.

Yes – peace and quiet and solitude. That was what he needed.

Through the window he could see the other four in the kitchen – Arthur delighting at the wonders of a working kettle while making yet more cups of tea. Carolyn and Hercules were clearly arguing – again – while Martin buttered a slice of toast in his usual, irritatingly careful and precise manner. The kitchen looked bright and warm, and thrumming with chatter.

Yes. Peace and quiet and solitude. Douglas couldn’t wait.

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FILL: Boggle By Firelight 7c/7 - (Anonymous), 2011-09-17 03:22 pm UTC (Expand)
Re: FILL: Boggle By Firelight 7c/7 - (Anonymous), 2011-09-17 03:38 pm UTC (Expand)
Re: FILL: Boggle By Firelight 7c/7 - (Anonymous), 2011-09-17 05:05 pm UTC (Expand)
Re: FILL: Boggle By Firelight 7c/7 - (Anonymous), 2011-09-17 06:07 pm UTC (Expand)
Re: FILL: Boggle By Firelight 7c/7 - (Anonymous), 2011-09-17 06:54 pm UTC (Expand)
Re: FILL: Boggle By Firelight 7c/7 - (Anonymous), 2011-12-11 03:33 pm UTC (Expand)
Re: FILL: Boggle By Firelight 7c/7 - (Anonymous), 2012-02-16 07:48 pm UTC (Expand)

Re: FILL: Boggle By Firelight 7a/7


[identity profile] aura218.livejournal.com
2012-06-14 02:55 pm UTC (link)
*squints* Did... did Carolyn just thank Douglas for his brotherly protection of her virtue? Oh my god this fic... :D

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