Jan
2
Oh, I love that this is getting more attention once again! Thanks, rebloggers!
(via parodyoffandoms)
Wheresmycow
This is me on Tumblr. Fanlady. Roger Allam Fan. Cumberbitch. Cabin Crew. Batshitcrazy.
Posts tagged imadethis
Dec
29
… and some more lovely Allam in The Creatives. This is ep 01x03, in which Charlie really is young Douglas. And can I just say this ep is so terribly politically incorrect and wrong in so many ways that I actually felt a bit ashamed for laughing so much.
Oct
7
I was just going to post a photo, and before I knew it I was writing a D/M fic. How the hell?
* * *
MARTIN: Douglas, I was cleaning out some cupboards and I found a box with some old pictures.
DOUGLAS: Oh dear god you didn’t. Martin, not the Martinair hen’s party. Please, tell me you didn’t look.
MARTIN: Well, I did. I didn’t know it was a hen’s do. I mean, I did notice the girls and all the do… ing. Ohmygod don’t tell me one of them was the bride? Did you do a bride? And why were you there in the first place? A hen’s do is supposed to be all girls! Having fun and doing fun things and not doing… you.
DOUGLAS: Martin, I have very vague memories of that night, all I know is that the bride isn’t in any of the, oh well, she’s not in any of the more explicit pictures, I checked that before putting them in that box. I remember kissing her, I kissed the whole lot of them and-“
MARTIN: Okay, so that’s one of my questions answered. Why were you there and how and why turned an innocent hen’s party into… into…”
DOUGLAS: I was invited! Dammit Martin, I was single at the time, and knowing Dutch stewardesses in those days, I was hoping to well, get lucky.
MARTIN: And you got extremely lucky, obviously.
DOUGLAS: I was taken by surprise!
MARTIN: Yes, I have seen that particular photo. You look quite surprised. I mean, who wouldn’t be surprised when seven stewardesses wearing nothing but their red hats-“
DOUGLAS: YES! Stop please. Don’t go describe it, please. Just give me the photos and I’ll go burn them now.
MARTIN: Well,… here you are.
DOUGLAS: That’s just one. Oh, and that’s about how it started. One of the bridesmaids showing off her bare tits and daring me to touch them. I do remember those tits, lovely small firm tits. Hm. But, but where’s the rest?
MARTIN: The other photos are safely locked away.
DOUGLAS: And may I ask why and where?
MARTIN: I’m not going to tell where. Come on Douglas! And why, well, you know about a hundred secrets things about me, and I like having one little dirty Douglas secret.
DOUGLAS: Ah.
MARTIN: Yes.
Oct
1
Cabin Pressure fic: Den Helder part 2
part 1 is here
Title: Den Helder
Pairings/characters: established Carolyn/Herc, Martin/Douglas pre-slash(ish), Martin/Douglas/Arthur friendship
Warnings: Unbeta-ed experiment, inspired by Air Crash Investigations. Disturbing images. Dead people.
——
It was just a short cargo flight to Den Helder, a small Dutch airport about eighty kilometres from Schiphol. Carolyn had seen no need to come along. It had been a lovely morning, with coffee and cake and Herc in the garden, chatting comfortably and making plans for the afternoon.
And then she got the call from Carl at Fitton ATC, after a friend at Schiphol had contacted him.
She had instantly turned on the telly. BBC news were already covering the Penny Air mid-air explosion, confirming dead passengers falling into Dutch back yards, while an Airbus with a gigantic hole in the fuselage was still in the air, attempting to turn back to Schiphol to land. And as far as Carl knew, Gerti had been mentioned.
Mentioned.
MJN weren’t mentioned in any of the news coverage. They also weren’t responding when she tried to contact them through the SatCom, nor were any of them answering their mobiles.
She had started trembling at some point, not crying, just quivering with her teeth clenched and her finger nails digging into her palms. Herc had held her tightly to his chest, talking quietly, trying to reassure her. When her phone had rung again, he had actually grabbed it from her hands.
“I will take that call, Carolyn,” he had said calmly, and she had nodded dumbly, staring at the telly still only mentioning the Airbus, now safely on the ground with no additional casualties.
A moment later, Herc had cupped her face. “Gerti is still up in the air. They are alive.”
Carolyn had searched his eyes. No relief there, just worry and compassion.
“But they’re not alright.” She had meant it as a question, but it came out as a statement. She knew they weren’t okay. She would never openly admit to such irrational nonsense, but she just knew, deep down on some strange intuitive level, that her child was not alright now. She had no idea if he was just frightened or hurt or in mortal peril, but she knew, beyond doubt, that things weren’t brilliant for Arthur right now.
“They’ve been hit by debris from the Airbus explosion,” Herc had said. “Gerti is probably damaged. They’ve called a mayday and they are cleared to land on Den Helder. Carl will call again as soon as he learns more.”
With her face pressed against Herc’s chest, she had whispered: “So we wait?”
“We wait.”
The feeling of not knowing, and most importantly, not being right there with them where she belonged, had been the worst part. A thousand scenario’s had bombarded her mind back then, and those same scenarios had later caused plenty of nightmares, some of them so detailed they were almost worthy of selling for horror movie rights. The worst one of all still haunted her now and again.
Gerti still in the air, but stalling, falling to the ground, with Douglas dying or dead, her gorgeous, ridiculously clever FO reduced to a bloody mess of crushed bones and torn flesh, one hand still on the controls, the other one touching Martin’s dead face, her Captain’s pale grey eyes wide open and horribly empty, and Arthur still alive, panicking as Gerti dives down. Her child, lost and terrified and whimpering: “Guys, please, please. Douglas? Skip? Please! Mum please. Mum. Mum help me please, please. Mum, mummy, MUM PLEASE!” And then darkness and silence.
Before the Amsterdam incident, Carolyn had never in her sixty-three years known how devastatingly painful darkness and silence could be when it hit you in your worst nightmare.
Carolyn shook her head, needing to get rid of the memory of those bad dreams, and of how it felt back then, seven months ago.
Herc had talked her through the panic on the day itself, and had comforted her after each and every nightmare. With a small smile, she looks over her shoulder and watches him, standing in the kitchen, busy putting biscuits on a plate.
“I love you, you idiot,” she says, just loud enough for Herc to hear.
“And I love you too, darling,” Herc replies. “Darjeeling or Earl Grey?”
“Green.” That’ll keep him busy for a while, searching her cupboards and the pantry, because she’s pretty sure she has no such tea anywhere in the house.
She takes a deep breath, and starts reading.
To be continued…
Sep
30
Coming soon: Den Helder
This is an experiment re cliffhangers. This fic is more or less finished, not yet beta-ed (please do feel free to point out errors!), and I wonder if posting in chapters would work.
Title: Den Helder
Pairings/characters: established Carolyn/Herc, Martin/Douglas pre-slash(ish), Martin/Douglas/Arthur friendship
Warnings: inspired by Air Crash Investigations. ‘Nough said.
—-
Den Helder
“Dear Ms Knapp-Shappey,
Per your request, included you will find the excerpts of the final report on the 06-08-2012 Amsterdam incident, regarding the involvement of flight MJN812, Lockheed McDonnell 312, registered G-ERTI.
As also expressed in the official findings, the crew of flight MJN812 showed a remarkable level of professionalism, creative thinking and bravery during…”
She puts the letter aside. Nothing new there. Carolyn wants to know what really happened, and she doesn’t need more tales about their bravery. There’s been quite enough of that in the media.
Sep
26
Ooh yes!
Two posts I made are suddenly getting loads of notes again, and for a change, these are really things I am still very proud of.
They look so much alike in these pics, headcanon.
and
I still find it hilarious how 5 so different batches could make a boy band.
Sep
7
New Cabin Pressure fic!
Copacabana, Cabin Pressure, gen, 4729 words. Beta-ed by the amazing Branwyn, and it has a PLOT. Of sorts. A tiny plot. It’s a bit plotty. There are traces of plot.
It does have a lot of Barry Manilow song titles though. If you’ve never heard of Barry Manilow, go and listen to Copacabana first, and then go look for John Barrowman and Barry Manilow singing ‘I made it through the rain’ / ‘Look’s like we made it’.
Oh, and yes, please, read my fic and tell me if you like it. It’s here on AO3.
Aug
18
Batch up your life.
Reblogging because some people really need to batch up their life. And because Poshbatch is just as great as Gingerbatch.
(via cupcakesforcastiel)
Aug
16
Cabin Pressure fic: When you smile
Wit AO3 down, I suppose I could post it on Tumblr for now. Cabin Pressure, 663 words, gen, and maybe, dunno, who knows, probably, part 1 of a longer story. Beta-ed by the brilliant chess-ka.
edit: and now on AO3! It’s up and running again, yay!
When you smile
The weather is perfect and the night sky of Fitton filled with stars when Douglas lands Gerti after the flight back from St. Petersburg. Right after touch down, Douglas hears Martin let out a deep sigh, as if he’s been holding his breath.
“I know,” Douglas says. Because he indeed does exactly know how it feels to land safely the next time after an emergency landing that could have gone horribly wrong. Even after more than thirty years of flying and at least a dozen emergency landings, he’s still feeling it himself.
Aug
14
Douglas has control - 2. Barcelona
MARTIN: It must be here somewhere, Douglas. Damn, where is it? Damn!
DOUGLAS: Is Sir planning on going another round? Because, as much as I hate to state the obvious, we actually are very nearly out of fuel now. So why not do the sensible thing and ask for help?
MARTIN: Oh okay, fine! Do it your way, go ahead!
DOUGLAS: Barcelona ATC, Golf Tango India here. We seem to have run out of fuel.
BARCELONA ATC: “Roger, Golf Tango India, commence emergency landing towards… but… but you’ve already landed ten minutes ago!”
DOUGLAS: “You do have an amazing memory, ATC. Indeed, we have already landed. Otherwise we would almost certainly be in big trouble now, because, as you may remember me saying, we seem to have run out of fuel. So to avoid my dear Captain having a panic attack while driving along your beautiful, but rather large airport, we would be very thankful if you could please point us in the direction of a fuel truck.
—
Douglas has control - 1. Amsterdam
Schiphol ATC: Golf Tango India, continue taxi to the holding position 20R south via Tango. Check for workers along taxiway.
Douglas: Roger, ATC. 20R south via Tango. Workers checked, all are working, except for a tall blond guy smoking a cigarette and winking at my handsome captain as we drove by. We may need fire truck to stop the blushing.
Schiphol ATC: Golf Tango India, please repeat former message. Did you request fire truck?
Douglas: No thanks, ATC, icy cold stare from Captain already made temperature in cockpit drop to freezing levels. Fire risk is non-existent, approaching holding position.
Schiphol ATC: What? Oh shit, you are MJN aren’t you? God, and I thought my colleagues just made you up to scare me.
Douglas: ATC, I do have an amazingly witty reply to that, but my handsome Captain is about to attack me. Please confirm that I’ve stated that whatever happens next is purely self-defence.
Schiphol ATC: Roger Golf Tango India, I… I don’t know. God, I hate my job. Fuck you.
Yes, a bit of ancient art definitely makes my blog look more mature.
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