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Prompting Post V

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(updated 5 July)

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.

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REALLY IMPORTANT ADDENDUM

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Las Vegas
Gen/Humor
PG
Summary: The boys spend the night in jail on a minor charge/misunderstanding. Since I have no firsthand experience of jail and really don’t want to acquire any, I’m working off of what I’ve seen on ‘Las Vegas Jail’ and similar shows.

“I have decided,” Carolyn announced, “that Arthur will be rooming with the two of you when we land.”
The pointy end echoed with the protests of her pilots. “Carolyn, it’s Las Vegas. I refuse to be responsible for any trouble he manages to get into,” Martin told her. “And I’m not sharing a bed with him again. He won’t keep his cold feet off my legs.”

“He’s not sleeping in my bed either,” Douglas said. “It’s like sharing with a hairy octopus. Limbs everywhere.”

“Order a rollaway cot. He loves those. I plan to enjoy Las Vegas, and that’s a little hard to do with Arthur tagging along.”

“This just solidifies my plan to get myself invited into a local bed for the evening,” Douglas said after Carolyn left.

“Leaving me to babysit Arthur. Thanks ever so much, Douglas!”

“Arthur is a grown man—“

“With the mindset of a ten-year-old child. We can’t let him wander around Las Vegas unsupervised.”

“Correction: you can’t leave him wandering around Las Vegas unsupervised.”

*****

Carolyn had booked herself a room at the Bellagio. Her pilots found themselves in a grotty little motel off the Strip.

“I’m not entirely sure this place doesn’t rent rooms by the hour,” Douglas said, looking around doubtfully.

“Leave your bags outside for a minute.” Martin had a penlight out and was looking around the beds and baseboards.

“What are you doing? I’ve had ten hours on the plane and I’d like to get out of this uniform.”

“I’m checking for bedbugs. You missed the last overnight she sent us on. I’m just lucky I spotted them before I brought any home in my suitcase. The landlord would have made me pay for the exterminator.”

“Ah yes. I never imagined I’d be grateful to have the flu.”

Once Martin gave the all-clear, they made their way into the musty room and settled in as best they could, changing into casual clothes. After that, it was out onto the Strip to sightsee.

“Chaps! That casino looks like New York! Brilliant!”
“Wow! That one looks like Venice! Brilliant!”
“Oooh! It’s a pyramid! With a Stinks! Brilliant!”

“A what, Arthur?” Martin asked.

“A Stinks! One of those lion statues with an Egyptian’s head on it.”

“I believe you mean a Sphynx,” Douglas informed him.

“Oh, okay. I wondered why anyone would call them a Stinks, then I thought, they’re really old, so they must smell or something. It’s brilliant that they don’t. Yellow car!”

“Arthur, it’s a taxi. We went over this in New York, remember?” Martin said wearily. “Taxis don’t count in Yellow Car.”

“I thought that was just taxis in New York.”

They ended up wandering into a casino to have dinner at a buffet. Along the way, Arthur dragged Martin through the rows of slot machines, looking for the biggest, shiniest one to try their luck on.

“Arthur, I really don’t want to gamble. If I ever get the urge to gamble, I just flush money down the toilet until the urge goes away. So far, I’ve never wanted to gamble that badly.”

“It’s okay. I have some coins left over from the Miami trip.” Arthur finally found a machine he liked and started feeding it quarters.

*****

Douglas, meanwhile, was chatting up a pretty young thing hanging around the edge of the blackjack tables. He’d gone directly from the second Mrs. Richardson to the third, and after the divorce from Helena, he’d learned that being single in one’s early fifties was very different from being single in one’s early forties. For one thing, pulling wasn’t as easy as it had been before. But this woman seemed genuinely interested in him. “So, do you have a room here?” she finally asked him.

Once again, fate was all too happy to do lovely things for Douglas Richardson. “Give me five minutes and I will have,” he purred. She smiled and slipped her warm hand into his, batting her long eyelashes up at him. Douglas preened, knowing this old Sky God still had it.

Two uniformed security men stepped out of the shadows. “Candee, how many times do we have to kick you out of here?”

“Hey, it’s a free country! I can hang out wherever I want to.”

“Not when you’re working, you can’t.”

“Wait—what? What do you mean? What?” Dear God, Martin was rubbing off on him. They were already slapping handcuffs on the girl, and Douglas felt metal sliding around his wrists as well.

“Sir, you’re under arrest for solicitation.”

“What? No! I wasn’t soliciting! I was chatting her up!” Off to his right, Douglas heard an officious voice and closed his eyes.

“Excuse me, what are you doing?” Martin bustled up to his elbow, puffed up for battle like a bantam rooster.

“Arresting this man for soliciting a prostitute.”

“Douglas? You’re kidding me! This man doesn’t need to pay for it! Women throw themselves at his feet!” The security men looked at the slightly podgy, greying middle-aged man they’d cuffed. One raised an eyebrow. “Look, I’m sure this is just a misunderstanding. We’re here overnight. We’re pilots. I’m Captain Crieff, and this is my first officer.”

“It’ll be sorted out down at the jail. You can pick him up there. Give them a few hours to process him, he’ll be ready to go by morning.”

“I am an airline captain and you cannot arrest this man—“ Douglas groaned and let his chin drop to his chest. It was Boston all over again. Martin kept ranting, digging himself in deeper. “Wait! What? Why?” Martin was being cuffed.

“Interfering with an arrest.”

“I wasn’t interfering, I was explaining why this can’t possibly be what it looks like!”

“That’s for them to sort out at the jail.”

“Oh God!” Martin started panicking. Douglas could hear him hyperventilating. “Oh God! Jail! I’ve never been to jail! I’m an airline captain!” His voice had gone up to a mere squeak by the end.
Douglas sighed. “Martin, just take a deep breath and keep quiet. This isn’t helping.”

“Hi chaps! I won five dollars off the fruit machine! How much is that in pounds again?”

“And neither will this,” he groaned softly.

“Um, Skip, Douglas, why are you wearing handcuffs?”

“They’re taking us to jail!” Martin wailed.

“Oh. Okay, I’ll come along.”

“Sir, you can’t just ‘come along,’” Two policemen had arrived to collect them from casino security.
“I have to!” Arthur held out his wrists. “Please? Pleasepleaseplease?” He turned to Douglas and Martin, sounding a little desperate. “Mum told me to stick with you chaps no matter what!”
Douglas sighed again. “You might as well bring him along. You’ll get no peace otherwise. He’ll probably run alongside the car screaming if you don’t.”

“Brilliant! I’ve never been to jail before!” As they were led out to a waiting patrol car, he started chanting “Attica! Attica!”

“Arthur, shut up!” Douglas told him. On his other side, Martin was keening softly. All was quiet for a few minutes as they rode away.

“Yellow car!”

The Las Vegas jail was a massive modern building. The large room they were led into was white, with rows of plastic seats and little booths with windows all the way around. They had to give up their phones along with their watches and wallets. Under normal circumstances, Douglas would have tried to chat up the pretty officer who was collecting his things, but he didn’t dare to now. For all he knew, the Americans had made it illegal to chat up a policewoman.

Fortunately, they were allowed to sit together in the middle of one long row of seats. Martin sandwiched himself between the two taller men, looking around with wide, slightly wild grey eyes. The catch of the day seemed to be mostly drunk tourists with a scattering of hookers and a handful of violent people. Two drunk twentysomething men about Martin’s size had a loud argument and were separated. A couple brought in on domestic disturbance charges kept shouting across the room at each other until a tall, burly officer had a quiet talk with each of them. One large, tattooed man was so out of control they strapped him into a rolling chair, put a bag made out of some sort of opaque breathable white fabric over his head to contain his spitting, and wheeled him into a quiet corner to cool off. Douglas could feel Martin trembling beside him.

Arthur, meanwhile, was treating it like a grand adventure. They went through processing one by one, first with a nurse to make sure they didn’t have any health issues, then with an officer handling their paperwork.

“I swear to God I didn’t know she was a prostitute,” Douglas sighed wearily when it was his turn. “I’ve been married for the last ten years. I just got divorced. I thought she liked me.” He hated how pathetic he sounded, but he was exhausted, at the end of his tether, and his ego was reeling under the blow it had just received. First Helena had left him for a younger, fitter man, now his attempt to pull had gotten him arrested.

“You’re lucky, actually,” the officer said as he typed on the computer. “A lot of those girls go up to a room with a guy, then knock him unconscious and steal his wallet and anything else he’s got that’s valuable.” Douglas groaned. In some ways, that would have been an even greater humiliation.

Martin was practically a basket case when it was his turn. “I’m an airline captain. Douglas is my first officer. I thought it was all a misunderstanding, and I was trying to help him. I just don’t understand the States at all,” he moaned. “First Boston, and now this. Maybe it’s North America. Qikiqtarjuaq went badly, too. North America just doesn’t like me, I guess.”

Arthur bounced up to the booth with his usual cheerful energy. “Hi! I’m Arthur Shappey!”

“Er, I’m Deputy Lopez. Please have a seat.”

“That’s usually my line. I’m the steward on my mum’s plane.”

The officer scrolled through his list. “You’re not on here. What are you in for?”

“Oh, I’m not under arrest. I just came along with my friends. Mum told me to stick with Martin and Douglas, so I’m sticking like a—like a really sticky sort of thing! What’s it like working in a jail? Are there riots? Do people set their beds on fire and stuff? Have you met Hannibal Lecter? He’s really scary, and I don’t think eating other people is brilliant at all and—“

“You go have a seat with your friends while we sort this out, okay, Arthur?”

“Sure thing, Deputy Lopez!” Arthur gave him a lopsided salute before bouncing back to his seat next to Martin.

*****

At the casino in the Bellagio, Carolyn was sipping a cocktail while she played a nickel slot machine. She had a full cup of nickels beside her that she’d already won, and she was still going. Her phone chimed just as this machine disgorged a jackpot and she grabbed a second cup to catch the bounty. Once it was finished, she rummaged in her handbag and found the phone. One missed call. She played the voice mail back.

“Carolyn, this is Douglas. You absolutely must get us out of here—“

“Spoiled little pilot whinging about his room,” she said airily, deleting the message without listening to the rest of it. She rose, clutching her cups of nickels. Time to hit the quarter fruit machines.

*****

“Ooh! Dinner, chaps! That’s good. We didn’t get dinner at the casino, and I’m really hungry!” Arthur cheerily thanked the uniformed man delivering dinner on sturdy plastic trays.

Douglas regarded his meal doubtfully. His eyebrow raised as he examined the sandwich. “Bologna on white bread.” Next to that was a compartment with a pile of small potato hash-things. “What on earth are these?”

“Tater tots,” Martin told him after swallowing a mouthful of the same.

The last item was an apple. It was merely a boring Red Delicious, but it was the only thing on the tray that Douglas could bring himself to eat. He polished it on his sleeve and took a bite. It was bland and mealy, but it would have to do.

“This is brilliant!” Arthur announced. “Mum never lets me have bologna at home!”
Martin was devouring his meal.

“How can you eat that?” Douglas finally asked him.

“I’ve learned to never turn down a free meal,” Martin answered honestly. Having all but licked his tray clean, he turned to eye the one Douglas still held. “Are you going to eat that?”

“Bon appetit,” Douglas told him, handing over his tray.

*****

Carolyn was perched at a quarter slot machine with yet another cocktail and a plate of nibbles from the buffet. She’d traded in her nickels, and was now winning cup after cup of quarters. Her phone chirped. She fed another quarter to the machine and pulled the lever. The modern ones where you just pressed a button were easier, but there was something satisfying about pulling on a one-armed bandit. A pile of quarters spilled out.

When she checked her voice mail, the call had been from Martin. “Carolyn, please!” He sounded strained, but then again, he often did. “You’ve got to help us!” She deleted the rest of the message. Complaining about the room, no doubt. She’d made sure this one didn’t have bedbugs. She’d asked the clerk when she’d booked it.

*****

“We have one phone call left,” Martin said morosely.
“It’s her own son. She won’t ignore him.”

*****

Carolyn had just won a jackpot on a dollar slot when her phone chimed a third time. She didn’t hear it over the racket the machine was making.

*****

A guard arrived to show them to their cell. “H-How many others w-will be in the cell?” Martin stammered.

“Just the three of you. This kind only holds three.” She led them to the cell, all concrete painted white. There were two concrete ledges, one on either side, and a metal one above one of them. At the rear of the room, behind a waist-high wall of concrete, was a sink and toilet. The corridor wall was solid, the door metal with a thick window.

Once locked in for the night, Douglas sank onto a ledge. It was just long and wide enough to work as a sort of bed. Martin took the other one and lay down, curling up on his side. Locked away from the other prisoners, safe with just Douglas and Arthur, he was finally able to relax a bit. He shrugged. “You have to admit, it’s actually not as bad as some of the hotels Carolyn’s put us in.”

Arthur scrambled onto the metal ledge above him. “It’s like bunk beds! I love bunk beds!” He was asleep within minutes. The other two managed to get some sleep, despite the fact that the cell never did go dark and there was a drunk in the next cell alternately singing, shouting, and sobbing for a few hours.

Breakfast proved to be scrambled eggs (“powdered,” Douglas groused after one bite), toast, and an orange. Douglas left the eggs, contenting himself with toast and the orange. Arthur ate most of his breakfast, and once again Martin hoovered his tray clean and started eyeing Douglas’s leftovers.

“Oh, go ahead,” was the sighed answer.

“What do we do now that we’ve all used our one phone call and Carolyn hasn’t answered?” Martin asked as they sat around the cell after breakfast.

Douglas scratched his stubble. “Wait until she arrives at Gerti and discovers none of us are there.”

“Do you think they might let one of us have a second phone call, since none of ours were answered? It’s not like we’re dangerous or violent. Maybe Arthur, since she’s his mum.”

Douglas’s gaze sharpened. “Arthur!”

“What?”

“Arthur, are you actually under arrest?”

“Um, no, I don’t think so. They couldn’t find me in the system last night, so they sent me back to sit with you chaps.”

“Which means—“ Douglas’s tone had turned low and dangerous.

“He can have as many phone calls as he likes!” Martin exclaimed.Both men turned to look at Arthur.

“You didn’t even have to hand in your mobile!” Douglas added.

“I did if I wanted to stay with you. And Mum said to—“

“Stick with us. Yes, Arthur, we remember,” Douglas said wearily. “And you’ve done a thorough job
of sticking with us. You have, in fact, stuck with us to a fault.”
Martin buried his face in his hands.

“Arthur,” Douglas announced, “you are a clot.”

Martin’s voice was muffled. “If he is, then we’re clots, too.” He lifted his head. “We didn’t think of it until now.”

It took a bit of doing, getting a guard’s attention, then trying to explain that one of the men in cell A-3 wasn’t actually under arrest. But at last Arthur was allowed out to make a phone call.

*****

Carolyn was awakened by her phone. “Arthur, dear heart, this had better be good.”

“You’ll never guess where Skip and Douglas and I are!”

“It’s too early for this.”

“Guess!”

“Oh, I don’t know—jail?”

“Awww, Mum—you guessed on the first go.” Arthur sounded terribly disappointed.

“What?” Douglas in jail she could see, but not her uptight captain. “How?”

“I’m not quite sure. Douglas chatted up some girl in a casino last night and got arrested, Skip tried to help and they arrested him, and you said to stick with them no matter what, so I did.”

“Let me talk to Douglas or Martin.”

“I can’t. They’re not allowed out of the cell yet. They only let me out because I’m not under arrest.”

“You stayed in a cell even though you weren’t under arrest?”

“You told me to stick—“

“Stick with them, yes, I know.” Carolyn hauled herself out of the comfortable bed. “I’m on my way. Give me an hour or so.”

Carolyn entered the jail like a ship in full sail. “I’m here to claim my two idiot pilots and one idiot son,” she told the first deputy she saw. She was taken to a window and handed a small pile of paperwork. She looked through it. “I can tell you right now that Douglas wasn’t soliciting. It would never occur to him to pay for sex. He has no idea he’s not the dashing young chap he used to be. And Martin is simply hopeless. He has a knack for saying exactly the wrong thing in exactly the wrong way at exactly the wrong time. Then there’s my son Arthur. A sweet boy, the light of my life, and a complete clot.” She shook her head in fond exasperation.

It didn’t help. The only way to free them was to pay their fines, which ate up most of her winnings from the night before. When the other three made their way out to her, rumpled, unshaven, and (except for Arthur) looking a little sheepish, she had her arms crossed and was tapping one foot.

“I’m sorry, Carolyn!” Martin told her immediately.

“It was a ridiculous misunderstanding, is all,” Douglas said.

“I had a winning streak on the fruit machines last night, and I was feeling generous. I thought I’d give each of you a bonus out of it. But then I had to spend most of it to get you out of here to fly my plane. So there goes your bonus, gentlemen.”

“I just wish we could have stayed a little longer,” Arthur said as they were leaving.

“Why on earth would you want to stay in there any longer?” Douglas asked.

“I asked one of the guards, and they said there were going to be peanut butter sandwiches for lunch. It would have been brilliant!”

I never knew how much I wanted this until now. Yes. Just yes.

This part is short. Like, really short!
I am also bored but this seems like crap to me. Oh well. when I claim this story I'll clean it up some. Anyway. Sudden plot, and Caps lock. lol.

---

Gordon Shappy was not a man to trifle with; that is his own personal philosophy. He was almost the most richest man in England, if one did not count Lord Buckingham of which Gordon was never able to get into the good graces. Still, business was good. Even after his wife had left him, taken his son and his ship. He hadn't seen her now for over thirteen years. In that time, Carolyn, Arthur and the ship, Gerti, had become well known in the area of the Caribbean Islands as pirates. Pirates who knew how to do business; not just take a ship's cargo and unload it upon the first idiot they came across. No, Carolyn did business.

Business that centered around, mostly, his trading ships. He'd lost over a million pounds thanks to her. She had even stolen a private shipment of Talisker whisky from Iceland. That wasn't why he was mad at Carolyn; it was just one reason. The other reason he hated her, wanted to see her dead, is that she poisoned Arthur against him. Of course, the boy was a bit slow, but with enough help he'd come around and into the family business. He was a Shappy after all, and Shappy's always had a head for business.

Gordon banged the desk before him; the little trinkets jumped from the vibrations the action sent through the wood. He glowered at the empty room. If Arthur were here with him, they'd be sitting by the fire, having a bit of whisky before bed. He wouldn't have to eat alone any more, and he could be the father Carolyn stole from Arthur.

The idea was always at the back of his head; there were so many late night's where he thought about it. He wanted his son back. By his side. They'd build the biggest trading empire the world had ever seen. Bigger than Rome and England combined.

He grabbed the feather quill and ink; and then began to write.

Thank you. I always freeze up when the porn comes up. lol.
So. I've distracted myself, but I am getting back to it. :)

Branwyn is awesome. I just love her!
I love those ending lines too.
This is the best charachter-insert fic I have ever read. Like ever.
Bravo!

I WANT THIS LIKE I CANNOT EVEN TELL YOU oh god i can't take another prompt noooo

During a flight some where in England, Martin comes across a Gypsy. He's nice and everything to her, not judging her and just acting like a gentlemen who isn't out to have sex with her. She decides to repay him with a curse.

For one month, Martin is the luckiest man on Earth.

Even if it's minimal luck, like he can pay rent and still have enough money left over to buy some food. Or maybe he wins a small bet against Douglas and get's the cheese tray or something. The luck can't be huge so that when the curse wears out he goes looking for her. The curse works within the financials of the person who's cursed.

(Inspiration for this prompt of the girl who gave the old beggar woman some water at the well, and the woman turned into a fearie and rewarded the girl with the magic spell of whenever she spoke, pearls, jewels, gold and silver, and other treasures would fall from her mouth)

In a small country, Arthur is kidnapped by a small radical political group intent on proving they are serious by holding a British citizen hostage.

After a week, they let Arthur go and all turn themselves in, happy, carefree and dedicated to the search for yellow cars and Toblerones.

I'm sorry if what I am about to ask is incredibly stupid, but if you really have a published novel, I'd love to get my hands on it

aka Lima syndrome: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stockholm_syndrome#Lima_syndrome

Seconded!

;A; moooorrrreeee

"I'm frightened, Douglas. She just stares at me and writes in a little pad."

"Are you sure it's about you?"

"I can read upside down. She wrote that I was ravished by tentacles! Specifically, your tentacles."

"Oh my."

"And I found a sack of potatoes with my name on it, tied to the door handle of my van! Potatoes, Douglas! What does that mean? Bashed in by potatoes? Ravished by potatoes? Watched by a thousand potato-ey eyes? Oh God."

"A gift of potatoes and an awkward roommate's fantasy seem harmless enough."

"But her friends! I caught one of them taping a voice recorder under my hat, said she thought it was a medal that fell off! Really. And they're following me!"

Martin's eyes widen, as the wind rustles a very suspicious shrubbery.

"If they are, let's give them something to watch."

Douglas leans forward and wraps his arms around Martin. He gently kisses Martin's hair, then his cheek, then his mouth. Martin sighs.

"I have no idea what these people want," Douglas whispers, "or why they think I have tentacles, but we will get them sorted, Martin. We will. Until then, you can stay with me."

"Yes, thank you," says Martin, holding his coat in front of his trousers to mask the excited movements of his genital appendages. "Let's go."

Meanwhile, dressed as a shrub, a shipper conspirator sends a text to the team: "Mission Accomplished."

---

Elsewhere, Martin's roommate takes a moment from constructing a trail of Toblerones to someplace not creepy at all and smiles.

"Douglas, help!"

"What has sir gotten himself into now that requires him phoning me on a day off."

"It's her."

"What, again? I really don't know why she bothers you so much, Martin, it's likely an innocent little crush."

"She's feeding me, constantly."

"From what little I know of the Creiff financial situation, I should think that would be welcome."

"No, I mean constantly. There's a bowl of soup and a plate of 'cookies' outside my door. Waiting."

"American, is she? Bring the 'cookies' along if you don't want them, I'm sure Arthur would be thrilled to have them."

"There's a bundle for him as well. In a purple handkerchief, with a label that says 'Arthur' and has a list of ingredients with measures like 'a squish' and 'about yay much'. The writing on the label is atrocious. I think she might be clinically insane. If she is a she."

"If?"

"I- I've never actually seen her up close. Not more than a few seconds or from nearer than ten feet. If she's there in a room I go into she runs out."

"Painfully shy, fragile thing, then? You two should get on like a house afire."

"I wouldn't say fragile. More, um.... More."

"More?"

"More."

"Ah. Zaftig, voluptuous?"

"Enormous. She's at least twice my size, possibly twice yours. But she doesn't make a sound running out, she just disappears."

"So you have a shy quiet fat student, probably a girl, intent on stuffing you with soup and cookies. Still not seeing a problem."

"It's terrifying! I feel like, like I'm being watched."

"In a lustful way?"

"Douglas!"

"There's nothing wrong with a girl with some meat to her. Most larger women tend to have an oral fixation, which in the bedroom becomes very-"

"Douglas!! Not like that!"

"Well how then?"

"Just watched. Watched over. And...when I came back from that flight to Athens. There was a note on my van, from her. She'd changed my oil and tightened my air filter."

"Well now!"

"On the van! The note also said my brakes would need replacing in another thousand kilometers, but that she would find me the parts for cheap, and to keep an eye on my transmission fluid level."

"Handy girl, then."

"Douglas!"

"I really don't see what the problem is Martin. This girl seems bent on taking care of you, and is asking nothing in return."

"That's it though. What does she want? She can't just want to take care of me for nothing. I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop."

"Just a thought, but have you tried talking to her?"

"I waved hello once when she first arrived."

"And?"

"She make a squeaking noise and ran off."

"Very shy. But comfortable enough in leaving notes. Right. Here's what you do. Take the soup and cookies from outside your door, leave her a note in response. Say hello, thanks for things, and so on."

"I can't do that! She'll think I'm interested in her! She'll, she'll tie me up in the basement and force feed me for the rest of my life!"

"I rather think she won't. In fact, if you take notice she'll probably back down and hide more often, given how shy you've said she is. She just sees you've got your financial sticking points and wants to help you out."

"Do you think? I mean, I don't want to hurt her feelings, or be rude, but it's really quite disturbing. I've never had anyone care about me before."

"...Martin..."

"What? Oh. I mean yes, of course someone's cared for me before, or cared about- I mean I had a family. Have a family. Just, it never, blast it, Douglas! Not like this! You know what I mean!"

"I do, but I'm not sure if you-"

"Shh!"

"What?"

"The- the. My door. My door just... sighed. Wistfully."

"Oh dear."

*high fives*

I've never seen Fight Club, but that was my assumption, too. This was fun!
^5

haha. I'd totally feed and stalk him too! Poor Martin.

I'm glad you ...enjoyed it?

Or at least took the time to read it.

Sorry for the sad?

Yes, at least there's that, I suppose.

Thank you!

I don't know about warnings. Maybe spelling because I can never remember how to spell Mid-Evil.

any who -

Kingdom Crieff is a very small kingdom. So small in fact that they always side with the Kingdom with the biggest army. In this case, Fitton, ruled by the great Douglas Richardson.
In order to show their loyalty, they must send one of the Royal Children as a slave to serve in the Royal House of Fitton.

King Douglas was certain he'd get the oldest child, or possibly the girl-child who was said to be very beautiful. However, the Crieff family sent him - Martin. A thin young man who tended to stutter and had never been outside the tower where he'd been locked up.

Douglas isn't so sure Caitlyn is the fairest in the land, because Martin's beauty is bewitching and Douglas may just find himself falling in love.

I need a scene of a detailed spanking.
The pairing can be Douglas/Martin, Arthur/Martin, Herc/Martin or a foursome, Douglas/Herc/Arthur/Martin.

As long as Martin is the one getting spanked. I will be a happy OP.

PS. IF it's punishment, that's fine, or a scene with a bit of D/S (I don't need warnings!) or whatever the Anon wants to take it is fine by be.

(except scat and waterspouts)

lol

Otherwise the anon(s) can go wild. :)

Another terminal Martin, but this time an AU.
Martin is diagnosed terminal before joining MJN. He is desperate to fly and takes the unpaid job because nowhere else will hire a dying man. Carolyn knows from the start but says nothing and acts normally as best she can.
Martin spends his last year alive as Captain of MJN.
Relationships, actions, etc change? Douglas and Arthur only find out at the end?

Martin isn't gay, he's just Douglas-sexual

Sorry for the late update, RL has been kicking my ass recently. Not to worry, though, I'll rebound and have a more fixed updating schedule soon. Also, despite what it looks like, there will be romance in this story. It's just been slow to build so far. Also sorry for any errors you notice. Please let me know and I'll fix them in the final copy of this.

In his uncertainty at the man’s words, Martin finally takes a good look at him—David, he tells himself. Dark hair, blue eyes, light tan skin. He’s not a bad height. At least Martin supposes it’s not a bad height. A bit hard to tell with him sitting in a chair. Probably shorter than Douglas but taller than himself. Most remarkable is the clarity with which Martin can see him. Often, his nighttime visitors are a little indistinct, as if they were made of cloth fraying around the edges, a fabric which no longer holds its original shape.

David is sharper than most other ghosts he’s seen. His shirt is a grey button-down with small white buttons and the gentle wrinkles of everyday use. His trousers are a darker grey and pleated. Looking closely, Martin realizes that David seems to be gaining more detail. The texture of the shirt is changing, allowing Martin to identify the pattern of the weave when before it was simply smooth, like dull plastic. Peeking over the edge of the bed, Martin sees that he’s wearing a pair of worn but comfortable looking loafers. The watch on his hand develops numbers and moving hands and his hair takes on a distinctive wave and several slightly unruly locks. It looks soft.

Looking up again, Martin looks at David’s face. “Um, I don’t think I’m all that different, but thank you. There’s nothing extraordinary here.” Looking down again, he continues, “Did you need me? N-not that I you would! I just, I mean, sometimes people like you ask for a bit of help. But I’m not implying that you need it! At all! I just—Sorry…” he trailed off slowly.

David gives him a small smile, “I think I understand what you’re trying to say. I don’t need any help in particular. Nothing specific. As I said, my time here has been an unchanging stream of nothing. My awareness of this place and myself grew after you moved in. I didn’t make the connection immediately, but you were the only thing that stood out. And then I realized it. Do you know you talk to yourself, Martin?”

Martin instantly flushed red. “I don’t mean to! It’s just the students are always busy and no one ever visits, not that there is any room to visit. And there’s never any time for that because if I’m not flying, I’m taking van jobs. And the only thing I can talk about is flying and, and, and no one wants to hear about that anyway. So, it’s not exactly by choice.”

David shakes his head, “I’m not judging you for it, Martin. On the contrary, I understand what it’s like to have no one to talk to or simply even notice you.”

Martin becomes slightly redder, “Of course, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to complain. At all. It’s just not easy, though, is it?”

“No, Martin, it isn’t. That’s sort of why I’m here. I realized, quite recently, that we might have lots on common. We’re both limited in our choices of communication, aren’t we? I thought, it might be alright, if you like, to rely on each other? I’m sure it would do me a world of good and I think you’d enjoy it as well.”

“Do you mean we would be friends? Is that what you want? Is that all? Most ghosts ask for something else, something more substantial. Help contacting living relatives or maybe passing some other message along. Are you sure you’ll be fine with having me as a friend?” By the time he finishes speaking, Martin looks as though he’s bracing himself for a blow.

“Friendship is plenty substantial, Martin,” David replies. “And I have no doubt friendship with you is a rewarding, if unique, experience.”

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Page 148 of 229

Prompting Post V

Please see the most recent MOD NOTE and ADDENDUM

FILLING GUIDELINES

REPROMPTING

As for everything else

REALLY IMPORTANT ADDENDUM

Re: Prompt and a self-fill: Go Directly to Jail (1/2)

Re: Prompt and a self-fill: Go Directly to Jail (2/2)

Re: Inspired by a prompt here above - crossover

Sea Pressure 13/? (TW for SUDDEN PLOT THAT HAS NOTHING TO WITH MARTIN, AND CAPS)

Re: Another Note

Re: I can't believe I'm actually FILLING this.

Re: Inspired by a prompt here above - crossover

The Good Luck Curse

Reverse stockholm syndrome

Re: I can't believe I'm actually FILLING this.

Re: Reverse stockholm syndrome

Re: FILL: Binaries 2/?

Re: I can't believe I'm actually FILLING this.

Shipping: outside the government, beyond the police [tw: stalking, manipulation]

Now I'm going to hide forever.

Re: Now I'm going to hide forever.

Re: FILL- Tradition

Re: Now I'm going to hide forever.

Re: FILL: Left Behind (2/2)

Re: FILL: Left Behind (2/2)

Mid-Evil Kingdom/Slave AU

Blow by Blow

Terminal Martin AU

no subject

Re: Fill: A (Para)Normal Romance: 2/?