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@theneuroticcaptain
cabin pressure in five sentences
douglas: anything you can do I can do better
herc: I can do anything better than you
martin: excuse me as captain I command that we focus on actually flying the plane
arthur: aRE WE SINGING
carolyn: oh my fucking god
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;; --- [I'll be deleting by the end of the week probably. Sorry.]
Downtown Montreal by olivier.demarcin
Send an "Ń " for my muse's reaction to being sent accidental nudes.
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;; â- [ Considering deleting. No one who I used to rp with is on anymore, and I canât do the fancy formatting like the rest of you which makes me look like a noobish 15 year old tit, and no one seems to want to pick up Martin and play with him, with the exception of a few of you, so. I donât know, itâs just not fun anymore.]
;; --- [ Considering deleting. No one who I used to rp with is on anymore, and I can't do the fancy formatting like the rest of you which makes me look like a noobish 15 year old tit, and no one seems to want to pick up Martin and play with him, with the exception of a few of you, so. I don't know, it's just not fun anymore.]
Next is Martinâs shoulder blade, hard under the warm cotton of his T-shirt, and Douglas nuzzles it, lets his mouth shape I love you noiselessly against it. (On the Importance of Timing)
xpathologist:
"Thereâs really quite a lot of buildings here actually. More than just a few⌠Yes, it is Dr Hooper. Who are you exactly?â
"God, no wonder I'm lost... I'm... Martin. Martin Crieff. My, er, mum is in having some tests run since she's having another 'not-a-heart-attack'."
      âIf you can get him to wear the tights to look         like heâs come out of a comic, youâll be my         bloody hero. I donât do much of the actual         crime solving, and, er, not much of a celebrity         either. Just⌠John Watson, really.â
"Seems he's already got a costume; wears that silly hat like a mask, and that dramatic coat might as well be a cape. Ha... Um, anyway, I'm... probably wasting a lot of your time. Sorry. I'm not usually... chatty."
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"I need to assert my dominance as a man!"
How I Met Your Mother Ask Meme
"Well good for you. And just who might you be?â
"Oh you want the blonde overÂ
there? Very nice, if I do say so myself. I donât think youâll have all that much trouble wooing her⌠Those breasts. Theyâre about popping out of that shirt⌠So what kind of company is this and why would flirting with her get her to come to you? Donât businesses usually do all those long talks on why people should join them?â
"Ha-- um. Well, my company is definitely... unorthodox when it comes to matters of standard professionalism. I work for a... quite small air charter company. We need the business. A-also... my co-pilot bet me fifty quid I couldn't get her to have a drink with me..."
dxtective replied to your post:;; â- [*loudly blacklists team b-bsled*]
*loudly curls into you*
[well hello gorgeous]
"Alive is all I want to feel tonight."
{meme}
 âââItâs good to see youâve decided to let yourself go a little.â
 âââSounds like a plan. Iâm sure they have an interesting film or two at the hotel. And if not, we could also hang out at the casino for a while. Theyâre hosting an excellent jazz band tonight that I wouldnât dare miss. But frankly, I would like to be wherever you prefer.â
     "Huh. A jazz band? I would... really enjoy that. Let's do it. I-I don't gamble - certainly don't have the luck for that sort of habit - but... casino could be fun. Am I... dressed well enough?"
;; --- [*loudly blacklists team b-bsled*]
"what sort of person do you take me for?"
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M!A: Baby boom ( 2 months)
Itâd started with the sickness. God, it was so awful, he had to call off a few flights, which pissed off Carolyn to no end. And the few flights he felt up to taking ended up with his head in GERTIâs loo with the all-tto-helpful steward rubbing his back and shushing him. Everyone remarked that Martin looked awful, and that he needed to see a doctor so he could get sorted out.
And so he did.
And he wasnât happy with the result.
Christ, how was he supposed to know he was a carrier? The rarest of men, less than a thousand known in the world.
Two months. He was two months pregnant. And he knew straight away who the babyâs father was.
Itâd been a few weeks since heâd seen Hercules Shipwright, when theyâd went to see another opera. To be truthful, Martin found them all too long, and couldnât understand a word, but the music and the atmosphere were pleasant, as was the man heâd been dating. Were they dating officially? He didnât know. It would feel strange to call a man twenty years his senior his âboyfriendâ.
After long and careful consideration, Martin decided Herc should know. Before Martin made a decision, anyway. Because it was a decision, and he wasnât sure which route he would take yet. He couldnât raise a baby by himself, and he certainly wasnât giving up his job, and he knew there wasnât exactly a maternity (paternity) leave policy in MJNâs contract.
After a shuddering breath, Martin finally worked up the courage to phone Herc, squeezing his eyes shut and pressing âcallâ before he lost his nerve again. He sucked in another breath, holding it, waiting anxiously as he counted the dial tones.
Herc was usually good with crossword puzzles but some of the newer pop culture references were outside of his ken. He was still puzzled by what a âdougieâ was (and also wondering what Douglas would do if called this) when he heard Martinâs voice.
Glancing to 16, he swiftly wrote it in. âThank you, Martin.â He said as he looked up with a warm smile. âThe only actor I could recall from that film was Anthony Edwards and obviously he didnât fit in the spaces.â
Martin chuckled warmly, folding his hands on the table and staring at his slightly calloused fingers contemplatively. "I, er, did the crossword this morning already, actually. As much of it as I could answer, anyway. Exercising the brain..." He coughed, hoping he wasn't sounding too rambly. "So, er, what's on the agenda after dinner, Captain Shipwright?"
Baloo in the village
Having to wait for Skip to open the door was like being on board Gertie and waiting for the take-off; except that Arthur knew it wouldnât be half as bumpy. He shifted his weight excitedly on his feet, and just when he thought that perhaps Skip wasnât even at home, he heard his cute, familiar voice from behind the door. And then the door opened, and Skip was standing right there - right in front of Arthur - and looked just as brilliant and small as he did in Arthurâs head whenever he tried to think back at the times when theyâd all still worked together.Â
"Skip! Hi, Skip!" All that happiness and excitement to be here now, with Martin, after so many months of not being with Martin, finally bubbled up in Arthurâs belly, and he wrapped his arms really very tightly around his friend to pull him into a long, firm hug that lifted Martin right off the ground because he was really short and Arthur, well, Arthur wasnât. âHi! Hi, Martin! Oh, itâs brilliant to see you again - and I made it all the way here, just for you, and you didnât know I was coming because itâs a surprise, and now Iâm here, and youâre here, and weâre finally being at the same place at the same time again!â He really carefully put Skip down again and drew back so he could look at him - and, oh, he really was just as cute as he remembered him! Arthur just had to hug him again, this time a bit more carefully, and it was great, because he could smell the shampoo in Martinâs curly hair and feel the softness of his shirt against his fingertips. âI thought Switzerland was a bit more toblerone-y - I wanted  to buy one, but they donât accept euros here⌠did you know that, Skip?! And also, wow, youâre speaking French now! Thatâs brilliant! Who taught you? Was it Douglas?â
Martin stood dumbfounded as the man who once served as his steward manhandled him. He felt dizzy, and his stomach was buzzing like a television with no reception. It was so unexpected that Arthur was suddenly here in front of him, with his strong, careful arms wrapped around the pilot's slender body, that Martin thought he was being washed away with the tide and swept under the ocean. "A-A-Arthur," Martin stammered, his voice cracking. He wanted to start answering the other's barrage of questions, but found his chest constricted by the hug-- or perhaps something else. He slithered his hands between them and pried himself from Arthur's hold, pulling away but keeping at a friendly distance away. "I-- you pick up a bit of language when you live around it-- they don't use euros, the national currency is francs-- Arthur, what on earth are you doing here? How-how did you even find me?"
