cabinpres_fic (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
cabinpres_fic) wrote2012-04-03 07:26 am
cabinpres_fic) wrote2012-04-03 07:26 am
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PROMPT POST PART IV
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
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 ArchiveThis 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
- 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.
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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.
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 | Part VII | Part VIII | Prompt Index
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cabin_pressure @ LJ | Cabin Pressure @ AO3 | IRC Chat @ irc.ecnet.org #FittonATC
Arthur comfort
Maybe Arthur, for whatever reason, sees Gordon again. And he catches Gordon saying to someone else just what he thinks of Arthur- he's stupid and useless. Arthur is, although not surprised, hurt by this and is caught in tears by Douglas and Martin and possibly Herc.
I'd just like them telling him how Gordon is a colossal arse and that they love Arthur to bits, and going all BAMF for him again. I need a bit of fluff in my life.
Re: Arthur comfort
(Anonymous) 2012-04-10 01:12 am (UTC)(link)Re: Arthur comfort
Re: Arthur comfort
Really looking forward to the fill! Big fan of your work here! <3
Re: Arthur comfort
Re: Arthur comfort
Re: Arthur comfort
Fill: Sticks And Stones
Arthur never really thinks much about Dad. After all, Arthur only hears from him once a year (and that’s not even because Dad wants to talk to him. Dad wants to pick at Mum until she screams down the phone line and it’s before the divorce all over again).
Arthur hates it when Dad upsets Mum, so eventually he takes it on himself to answer the phone. There’s no shouting that way and Mum doesn’t lock herself in her room after and fume. It doesn’t matter if Dad belittles and condescends to him because he can’t seem to remember Arthur isn’t ten years old anymore. Arthur can take down a message just fine if he has a pen and paper handy. He knows he forgets things—that’s why he writes all the important things down.
Things aren’t easy for Mum with running the house and balancing all of MJN’s books. Speaking with Dad only adds to her stress. Arthur knows that he doesn’t really do all that much to help—he’s the steward and that’s brilliant, of course, but it’s not a real paying job. He’s not contributing anything at all.
Handling Dad is the least he can do. Mum doesn’t need to hear any of Dad’s sniping, so Arthur makes sure she doesn’t.
Later, when he rings off, it becomes a sort of ritual to retreat to his room so he can cry and scream into his pillows where Mum can’t see or hear. He thinks about all the times before Mum shut herself in her own room and feels horribly guilty and just plain stupid for not picking up the phone sooner.
~*~
Speaking with Dad doesn’t get easier as the years go on, but Arthur has found a way to cope. He doesn’t burst into tears mid-conversation and then desperately try to cover up his sniffles anymore. The second Arthur hears Dad’s voice go all deep and sharp he just sort of… shuts down. Everything goes a little dull, like he’s taken a step back or he’s dreaming in slow-motion, and then he doesn’t feel anything at all. He thinks not being face to face make the not-feeling easier.
The older Arthur gets, the quicker the not-feeling comes when he speaks to Dad, and the longer it takes for the aftermath to catch up with him. Sometimes, he can go for days without breaking down and until he finally collapses on his bed and sobs himself sick, he can nearly pretend that the phone call never happened.
When the tears have wrung themselves out, he’s left dry-eyed and completely knackered, and he wonders if someday the phone calls will just stop coming. He knows one way they would—probably the only way—but thinking about Dad dying isn’t… well, it’s a horrible thing to do, exactly the sort of thing Dad would do (“There’s a circle in hell for miserable bitches like you, Caro, and I hope you rot in it.”), so Arthur makes sure he never thinks about that kind of thing at all.
He buries his face in his pillows, concentrating solely on the not-feeling. When he opens his eyes again it’s the next morning and he’s lost an entire day.
He wishes he could have lost the sound of Dad’s voice instead.
~*~
No matter where Arthur is, he can pick Dad’s voice out of a crowd, and every time he does it sends lines of ice down his spine. Being in public places doesn’t make things better, it just means Dad will only raise his voice. (Arthur reminds himself he’s not a kid anymore—he’s older, bigger. He’s an adult and nothing is going to happen. The ice doesn’t go away and the not-feeling creeps slowly in.)
If he were smarter, Arthur would have turned and gone the other way. If could think… But he’s not and he doesn’t and when Dad rounds the corner of the duty-free, stops and sees him, all the air in Arthur’s lungs disappears.
“Well, son,” Dad says. His smile doesn’t touch his eyes. “Fancy running into you.”
Arthur opens his mouth, tries for words—he knows he should say something, needs to say something, but his throat closes tight and he gawps like a fish.
The corners of Dad’s mouth droop ever so slightly even though he’s still smiling and all at once the not-feeling gets crowded out by the sudden wet heat in Arthur’s eyes.
Talk, he tells himself. Say something. Anything. Talk!
He doesn’t. He can’t. The only thing he hears is Dad telling him what an idiot he is, what a failure, even though Dad hasn’t said a word.
“Bit old to be giving me the silent treatment, aren’t you?” Dad says, the beginnings of an edge sliding into his voice. “All this time and not even a hello? You got taught manners or didn’t they stick?”
Arthur manages a jerky nod, which he quickly changes into a shake because he wants to give the right answer. He’s not even certain there is a right answer. He doesn’t know.
He can feel the tears welling up in his eyes, feel the frustration rattling in his bones, the uncertainty, and all he wants to do is rush back to GERTI and hide. He wishes Mum wasn’t back home laid up with the flu because then he wouldn’t be a wreck if she were here because she would see and…
He drops his eyes to his shoes and wills the tears away. If he’s not looking, it’s not face to face, right… Not face to face, he can do that. He has done that. It’s fine. Everything’s fine.
“God almighty, what are you crying about now?” Dad groans. “Your mother insisted on coddling you within an inch of your life and look at what good it’s done. All it did was make you soft in the head. You planning on wailing like a banshee when I say goodbye?”
Arthur knows exactly the kind of goodbye he would like to give Dad, but the words sit heavy on his tongue and he swallows them down. If you don’t have anything nice to say, he reminds himself.
Someone is calling him name. He knows he should answer, know he should recognise the voice, but it’s already too much to concentrate on not falling apart. He doesn’t know it’s Skip until Skip stops beside him with a quiet, “Oh” and a tight, “Mr. Shappey.”
“At least someone in this outfit remembers how to give a proper greeting. Fancy that.”
Arthur knots his hands into fist until his nails cut crescent moons into the flesh of his palms.
“Though not all of us remember basic civility, it seems,” Skip grinds out.
Arthur sees Douglas’s uniform shoes edge into his line of vision before he hears him, feels Douglas curl his hand round the back of his neck and suddenly it’s easier to breath.
“Everything all right here?” Douglas says, even though Arthur knows Douglas can see it’s not. “Ah, Gordon, what luck meeting you here. Having another go at larceny or do you limit that to once a year?”
“Listen here, you.” The edge to Dad’s voice is sharper, the words louder. Arthur flinches, but he doesn’t hear what else Dad says when Douglas’s gently tightens his grip.
A moment later Skip lays a hand on Arthur’s arm, turns him round, and they start back the way they came.
“I know precisely what kind of man you are,” Arthur hears Douglas says to Dad behind them. The rest of his words, unfortunately, are lost in the noise of the terminal, but Arthur is inordinately proud of the steel in Douglas’s voice.
~*~
The crew lounge is deserted when Skip guides Arthur in and sits him in a chair. The stuffing is coming out of the upholstery and the only thing Arthur can think of is a dissected teddy bear. Douglas leans against the doorframe pretending to look easy but instead only looking cross.
Skip drops into the seat beside Arthur with a sigh, slumping on his knees, with one hand raking through his hair and underneath his Captain’s hat. He lays his other hand on Arthur’s arm and simply asks, “Are you all right?”
Arthur nods because he is, but even so, the tears run tracks down his face. He covers his face, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes, and sucks down deep, shaky breaths. When Skip curls an arm round his shoulder to pull him into a hug, Arthur doesn’t try to stay quiet anymore.
“What did you say to him?” Skip asks sometime later.
For a second Arthur thinks Skip is talking to him, but Douglas answers instead.
“Just what was on my mind,” Douglas says. Arthur can tell by the airiness in Douglas’s voice that none of those things were nice.
Skip snorts. “No less than he deserves.”
“Oh, he deserves far less. Mostly a box six feet under so he can cosy up with the worms and the maggots. I imagine he’d view it as a coming home party.”
“Douglas,” Skips warns.
Arthur just shakes his head against Skip’s shoulder. “It’s all right,” he says, straightening up. His throat is just a tad scratchy.
Douglas smiles and runs a hand over Arthur’s hair. “Of course it is.”
~*~
When GERTI is refueled and cleared to head back to Fitton, Arthur spends his time in the flight deck, trying to win a cut of the cheese tray and laughing at Skip and Douglas’s teasing until his face hurts. For the entire flight, he doesn’t think about Dad once.
Things are just as they should be.
Re: Fill: Sticks And Stones
This was fantastic.
Re: Fill: Sticks And Stones
Thanks very much! I'm glad you enjoyed. :D
Re: Fill: Sticks And Stones
(Anonymous) 2012-04-14 06:26 am (UTC)(link)Re: Fill: Sticks And Stones
Re: Fill: Sticks And Stones
This fic feels so incredibly true, and so *hugs* for you :)
I think the line that caught my attention was Arthur can take down a message just fine if he has a pen and paper handy. He knows he forgets things—that’s why he writes all the important things down. and the bit about knowing he doesn't contribute and hence this is the least he can do for Carolyn. Oh Arthur.
Re: Fill: Sticks And Stones
Re: Fill: Sticks And Stones
Re: Fill: Sticks And Stones
OP loves you <3
I re-read it now because I knew I should leave a comment and I'm just welling up. Mainly because it's been a sensitive day and because I wish I had a Martin and Douglas right now.
I also want to wrap my arms around Arthur and never let go. *sniffle* Thank you for this. <33
Re: OP loves you <3
Re: Fill: Sticks And Stones
Re: Fill: Sticks And Stones
Re: Fill: Sticks And Stones
XD
Re: Fill: Sticks And Stones
Re: Fill: Sticks And Stones
Re: Fill: Sticks And Stones
Re: Fill: Sticks And Stones
Re: Fill: Sticks And Stones
FILL: A Worthy Regard 1/1
When they had been dating for six months, Carolyn Knapp-Shappey asked Hercules Shipwright to move into her house. It wouldn't, she insisted, by anything like living together. "You'll have your own wing," she told him. "You'll practically have your own post code. No reason at all to even clap eyes on each other, if we don't want to."
So Herc took up residence with Carolyn and Arthur, and, because he liked them enough to move in with them in the first place, they saw quite a bit of each other. Herc cherished hopes of being allowed to leave a toothbrush in Carolyn's wing, soon.
When Herc had been living there for two weeks, Carolyn took him aside when Arthur was out of the house and showed him a photograph of her ex-husband, Gordon Shappey.
"If he ever turns up when I'm not at home, you're to send him packing, and be sure to check the silver once he's gone," she tells, in a terse voice. "And for God's sake, don't let him come anywhere near Arthur."
Herc hadn't understood that, really. True, Arthur was never going to give Immanuel Kant a run for his money when it came to the exercise of pure reason. But he's always struck Herc as a pleasantly unflappable individual. And of the three men working for MJN Air, he knows who he'd trust first in a crisis. Gordon Shappey is undoubtedly a thorough reprobate, Herc's made enough discreet inquiries to be certain of that, but, frankly, he thinks Carolyn doesn't give Arthur enough credit.
Until a few months later, when they fly to Perth, and he realizes he's been giving Gordon too much.
*
It's never entirely comfortable, flying as a passenger, when you yourself fly planes for a living. You're all too aware of the things that can go wrong. And when you know the people in the cockpit, you can imagine them going wrong all too vividly.
But Herc keeps his (wholly justifiable) concerns to himself and heads to the airport bar for a drink to reward himself as soon as they touch down for their layover. Douglas and Martin nip over to the sandwich shop next door, while Arthur wanders down to the duty-free to hunt the wild Toblerone in its native habitat. Presently, Douglas comes into the bar sits down next to Herc, turning backwards on the stool so he doesn't have to look at the bottles on the wall.
"Martin got put off his lunch by the fact that there was kangaroo steak on the menu," he says. "I did attempt to explain that the living, breathing Australian kangaroo bears little, if any, resemblance to the beloved A. A. Milne characters Kanga and Roo, but I am afraid the damage was already done."
"Interesting man, your captain." It's the best Herc can do by the way of diplomacy, with two G&Ts in him.
"Oh, that's not the least of it." Douglas looks as though he's about to launch into one of those stories about Martin he finds so terribly amusing, only to stop himself, frowning.
"Well, well," he says, his voice suddenly darker and entirely unamused. "As I live and breathe. Gordon Shappey."
"Good lord, really? Where?"
Douglas inclines his head. Herc looks to his left, and spots the man immediately. He's got a shock of white hair and one of those faces that have collapsed under so many years of malice and hard-drinking that it's difficult to imagine what he must have looked like as a younger man. Herc can't help feeling a degree of smug contentment. Anyone looking at Gordon and Herc side by side would have to agree that Carolyn has traded up.
"Do you happen to know where Arthur is at the moment?" says Douglas, in a tone Herc immediately identifies as far too casual.
"The duty-free still, I think."
"You're sure?"
"Well, I--"
Douglas slides off his stool. "I believe I'll just go and check."
"Oh, well. If you must."
"Yes, I think I must. Look here, Herc. Just--keep a weather eye out, will you?"
"What on earth are you talking about?"
"I will be too busy flying the plane to hold Arthur's hand. Which means the responsibility will fall on you. Unless you don't mind the extra dry cleaning after he's wiped his nose on the shoulder of your three thousand pound suit--"
"Honestly," Herc laughs. "You people. You act as if Arthur isn't a grown man."
Douglas pauses, like there's something he's not quite sure he should say. "Just watch him, will you?"
"All right, Douglas. I'll watch him."
As Douglas slips from the bar--Herc has to admire the skill with which he weaves in and out of the milling crowds, entirely avoiding Gordon's line of sight--Herc settles his bill and wanders down the concourse to a bookshop. By examining the window display, he's able to remain near Gordon without making himself conspicuous. It's rather jolly fun, this spying business. Perhaps he ought to have been a secret agent. He certainly looks the part, and they do fly planes, on occasion.
Herc is just reading the back of a conveniently placed Le Carre novel, when a delighted-sounding laugh sounds from the back of the shop. He looks up, and sees Arthur turning the pages of a children's picture book.
Blast, he thinks. Arthur must have doubled back when he wasn't looking. He's not sure what he ought to do now. Text Douglas? Go to Arthur and alert him that his father is near?
In the end, he decides to do neither. He's rather curious, what Arthur and Gordon's interaction will be like, and besides, it might be just the thing to let Arthur have an opportunity of proving to the others that he's not as wet as they think he is. Herc will keep an eye on things, just in case, and when Douglas returns, he can enjoy the pleasure of informing Carolyn's smarmy first officer just how wrong he was.
Arthur makes his purchase and walks out of the shop. Herc, by the cunning ruse of standing in the corner with his back turned, manages to escape his notice. He puts the book down and walks after Arthur, just in time to see the boy come face to face with his father and drop both his shopping bags with a yelp.
There are rather too many people between them for Herc to hear and see the entirety of the exchange, which is brief. But he does catch the look on Arthur's face, and it isn't pretty. In fact, Herc thinks, suddenly and uncharacteristically discomfited, it suggests that he's got the wrong end of this thing entirely. People don't react to their parents that way, unless there's bloody good reason.
He doesn't know all the details of MJN's last encounter with Gordon in St Petersburg, and what he does know he's heard in the form of bragging from Douglas--not the most credible of sources. But he's got enough of a sense of the man and the situation to know that they'd made a proper fool of Gordon, and that Gordon isn't the type to forgive and forget anyone making a fool of him. If it had been Douglas, bumping into Gordon, Herc would have expected what followed. But--honestly, anyone who could feel threatened by Arthur--
Herc feels his shoulders squaring up as Gordon's face contorts into a rictus of anger. He stabs a finger at Arthur, advancing on him a step or two, and Arthur flinches wildly, stumbling backwards, and tripping over his own bags. He falls to the floor, and Gordon looms over him, his expression of fury converting to a look of contempt.
Before he quite knows what he's doing, Herc strides forward, angling his way through the crowd until he appears in the small clearing that's formed around Arthur and Gordon. He leans down and touches Arthur's shoulder, and Arthur looks up at him with slightly wild eyes.
"You all right, Arthur? Let me give you a hand." He reaches down and pulls Arthur to his feet, settling a firm hand on his shoulder once he's upright again. "What the devil's going on?"
He addresses the question to Gordon.
"And who might you be?" says Gordon. His tone is far from friendly, but he's lost the sneer, now there's a third party present.
"Hercules Shipwright," he says. He considers how to describe his relationship with Arthur. Mother's boyfriend? Step-father in waiting? A little premature, perhaps, and certainly none of Gordon's business. "A friend of Arthur's."
Gordon's answering snort is immediate. "And how does someone like you get to be friends with this useless lump, eh?"
"By endeavoring to be worthy of his regard," says Herc, playing the line straight.
Gordon's head snaps back. He huffs, then looks at Arthur, grimacing. "For god's sake, Arthur, stop your sniveling. Your mother's not here to be impressed."
Herc glances beside him at Arthur. He's looking at the floor, and while Herc can tell that he's crying, it's not immediately obvious, which suggests two things: one, that Gordon has seen him cry often enough to know the signs, and two, that Arthur's had a lot of practice trying to repress it. Put together with Gordon's comment about Carolyn, and there was a portrait of a family in a nutshell.
Herc has never been the sort to feel especially protective of anyone, even those he's fond of, because in his opinion people mostly get on best when they're allowed to handle distressing matters in their own way. But he's got children of his own, and while he maintains that Arthur is a grown man, he's still quite a young one. And parents tend to go on treating their children just as they always have, which in Gordon's case suggests something rather repellant about the sort of father he was when Arthur was younger.
"That's quite enough of that," he tells Gordon coldly. "Do remember that other people can hear you. Arthur, Douglas was just off to the duty-free, would you mind going after him and telling him I want to see him?"
Arthur nods silently and scurries away, leaving his bags behind him. Herc draws himself up and stares at Gordon, unsure whether to give the man another opportunity of disgracing himself or to simply walk away.
"I know you," says Gordon, eyes narrowing. "You're with Cal Air, am I right? That must make you Caro's new bit on the side. Have to say, I was surprised to hear about that. Thought she had more decency than to still be flashing her knickers at uniforms, at her age."
Herc laughs. Thinking back on the small offensive campaign he had to wage just to get Carolyn to admit she liked him a bit, Gordon's comment is almost too ludicrous to be offensive.
"Honestly," he says. "You were married to her. Do you know her at all?"
"Do you? She's a vindictive cow, you mark my words."
He almost laughs again. He's got four ex-wives. Carolyn would have to ascend to truly heroic levels of vindictiveness to top anything they've come up with.
Just as he's about to inform Gordon how thoroughly bored he's grown with his disgusting conversation, he spots Douglas, striding up the concourse with Martin, looking like grim death, the both of them. Arthur's lagging slightly behind, a guilty, hang-dog set to his shoulders. Herc tuts under his breath. That won't do at all.
"Well hello, Gordon," says Douglas, sidling up. "What a surprise to see you here. How are your hands? Did the skin grafts take?"
"Don't be rude, Douglas." Herc's never seen Martin smile quite like that before. "We never thanked him for our lovely new engine."
"Yes, it is lovely, isn't it? Arthur was ever so pleased. Your finest moment as a parent, I shouldn't wonder."
Herc notes, with amusement, the gathering storm of apoplexy in Gordon's face. He slips away silently, leaving him to the mercy of MJN's finest comedy double-act, and walks over to Arthur, who's still hanging back, looking rather fretful.
"All right, Arthur?" Herc places a light hand and his back and begins to draw Arthur away from the scene. Douglas and Martin can catch them up later. "He had no business to speak of you that way. I hope you don't take him seriously. It isn't in the least true, you know. You aren't useless at all."
"That's nice of you to say, Herc." Arthur sounds weary, and the absence of his customary ebullience makes for a startling contrast. His disbelief is patently obvious. Herc frowns.
"Really, Arthur." He guides Arthur to a bench and sits next to him. The concourse walls are made entirely of glass, and the light of the brilliant sky on display behind them makes Arthur's brown mop look faintly reddish. Herc has the faint urge to ruffle it. "Take it from me. Any father who would humiliate his own child in front of a stranger--well, it's simply not done. He only made himself look rather pathetic. If he hasn't the intelligence to know he should be proud of you, that's hardly your fault."
Arthur does smile at that. "Your kids must be really happy to have you for a dad."
"Well, I hope so." Herc chuckles and leans back. "Oh, goodness, look at that. I believe airport security is coming to have a word with your father."
Arthur watches, gaping, as burly men in uniforms lead his red-face father on a brisk march across the concourse. A moment later, Martin stumbles back to them, supported by Douglas and clutching a bloody handkerchief to his nose.
"It was worth it," Martin says insistently to Douglas.
"Yes, Gordon's suffering the inconvenience of being detained by security for a few hours is certainly worth the fact that your nose, when it heals, will probably change direction twice." Douglas rolls his eyes and deposits Martin on the bench beside Herc.
"Skip." Arthur's eyes are huge. "Did you--set him up, or something?"
Martin tilts his head back, and smiles a little under the coating of gore. "I might have goaded him a bit."
"That's--that's--that's--brilliant!"
Herc smiles.
Re: FILL: A Worthy Regard 1/1
That. Was. AMAZING! How you nailed Herc's voice so perfectly I have no idea, but you did (and for everyone else's too!). Herc as a spy? Le Carre novels? Martin being a BAMF even thought Gordon punched him out? *flails*
To paraphrase Arthur, "This fill rather puts my piece in the shade." Lovely, lovely, lovely! :D
Re: FILL: A Worthy Regard 1/1
Re: FILL: A Worthy Regard 1/1
(Anonymous) 2012-04-17 12:39 pm (UTC)(link)Re: FILL: A Worthy Regard 1/1
(Anonymous) 2012-04-17 06:26 pm (UTC)(link)Re: FILL: A Worthy Regard 1/1
THIS WAS AWESOME! OMG! TWO brilliant fills for this and this one with Herc... AAAHHHH!!!!! \o/ I cannot contain my shouty glee! THIS WAS DAMNED EXCELLENT! OH, IT'S CHRISTMAS!
*gleebounces all over you*
OP LOVES YOU <3
Re: OP LOVES YOU <3
Re: FILL: A Worthy Regard 1/1
Also, I'm always happy to read BAMF!Martin! <3
Re: FILL: A Worthy Regard 1/1
(Anonymous) 2012-04-25 09:43 pm (UTC)(link)"Don't be rude, Douglas." Herc's never seen Martin smile quite like that before. "We never thanked him for our lovely new engine."
I just lost it right there in tears and laughter, and I don't think I'll ever get it back. Absolutely wonderful, this whole thing.
Re: FILL: A Worthy Regard 1/1
(Fellow Anthony Stewart Head fan here, but not been at it for quite as long as you, ha ;))