mirabilelectu: Can I talk about how I have the best friends in the world? Because I really, really do. And nothing brings that home like getting a surprise package from Lexie full of the most amazing stuff. I mean, look at it! There’s: A lovely necklace A hand-painted MJN Air mug (with an adorable Martin and the standard amount of gold braid for a captain’s uniform, of course) An amazing original piece of Lexie’s art featuring a waterbending Molly that was commissioned by the fantastic tygermama because didn’t I mention that I have the best friends in the entire world? So yeah, today’s been a pretty darn good day. You are SO welcome, love. I think you’re pretty damn amazing too.
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mirabilelectu: Can I talk about how I have the best friends in the world? Because I really, really do. And nothing brings that home like getting a surprise package from Lexie full of the most amazing stuff. I mean, look at it! There’s: A lovely necklace A hand-painted MJN Air mug (with an adorable Martin and the standard amount of gold braid for a captain’s uniform, of course) An amazing original piece of Lexie’s art featuring a waterbending Molly that was commissioned by the fantastic tygermama because didn’t I mention that I have the best friends in the entire world? So yeah, today’s been a pretty darn good day. You are SO welcome, love. I think you’re pretty damn amazing too.
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mirabilelectu: Can I talk about how I have the best friends in the world? Because I really, really do. And nothing brings that home like getting a surprise package from Lexie full of the most amazing stuff. I mean, look at it! There’s: A lovely necklace A hand-painted MJN Air mug (with an adorable Martin and the standard amount of gold braid for a captain’s uniform, of course) An amazing original piece of Lexie’s art featuring a waterbending Molly that was commissioned by the fantastic tygermama because didn’t I mention that I have the best friends in the entire world? So yeah, today’s been a pretty darn good day. You are SO welcome, love. I think you’re pretty damn amazing too.
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mirabilelectu: Can I talk about how I have the best friends in the world? Because I really, really do. And nothing brings that home like getting a surprise package from Lexie full of the most amazing stuff. I mean, look at it! There’s: A lovely necklace A hand-painted MJN Air mug (with an adorable Martin and the standard amount of gold braid for a captain’s uniform, of course) An amazing original piece of Lexie’s art featuring a waterbending Molly that was commissioned by the fantastic tygermama because didn’t I mention that I have the best friends in the entire world? So yeah, today’s been a pretty darn good day. You are SO welcome, love. I think you’re pretty damn amazing too.
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mirabilelectu:

Can I talk about how I have the best friends in the world?

Because I really, really do. And nothing brings that home like getting a surprise package from Lexie full of the most amazing stuff. I mean, look at it! There’s:

  • A lovely necklace
  • A hand-painted MJN Air mug (with an adorable Martin and the standard amount of gold braid for a captain’s uniform, of course)
  • An amazing original piece of Lexie’s art featuring a waterbending Molly that was commissioned by the fantastic tygermama because didn’t I mention that I have the best friends in the entire world?

So yeah, today’s been a pretty darn good day.

You are SO welcome, love.

I think you’re pretty damn amazing too.

The Navigator by ~lexieken medium: graphite I was listening to the “Newcastle” episode of Cabin Pressure the other day and thought to myself, “What if Linda’s navigator is actually Molly? Little mousy Molly who isn’t mousy at all, but a kick-ass lady that’s just a bit of an adrenaline junkie who is the navigator for a rally car driver. And that’s how Martin meets her for the first time, when Linda invites him to a rally, and then there she is…” I don’t actually know if the navigator is in the car or on the sidelines, but I’m going to pretend that she’s in the car.  This was done w/o references of any kind so I’m so sorry.
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The Navigator by ~lexieken

medium: graphite

I was listening to the “Newcastle” episode of Cabin Pressure the other day and thought to myself, “What if Linda’s navigator is actually Molly? Little mousy Molly who isn’t mousy at all, but a kick-ass lady that’s just a bit of an adrenaline junkie who is the navigator for a rally car driver. And that’s how Martin meets her for the first time, when Linda invites him to a rally, and then there she is…”

I don’t actually know if the navigator is in the car or on the sidelines, but I’m going to pretend that she’s in the car. 

This was done w/o references of any kind so I’m so sorry.

Mourn Me

mirabilelectu:

The phone rang at 4:15 AM on a Thursday morning.

At 4:17 Molly’s life shattered to pieces.

As much as she had feared this very moment, she had never truly thought that it would actually happen. No matter how many nightmares she had, no matter how many sleepless nights or restless days, deep down there had always been the quiet conviction that it was all just pointless worry to make her relief all the sweeter. Things like this just didn’t happen out of the blue, they just…didn’t.

But then it did. On a routine trip, one that should have lasted no more than two days, the unthinkable happened. Molly hadn’t even been that worried this time, letting her preoccupation slip to the back of her mind as she concentrated on the far more immediate concerns of the stack of paperwork she needed to get through and the grocery shopping that needed to be done. Was that what did it? What if she had worried more? What if…

All of the what ifs in the world couldn’t change a thing now. 

Now as she lay curled into a ball wracked by noiseless sobs on her sitting room floor, Molly could feel her soul rip into pieces with every labored breath and every painful gasp. She tried in vain to tell herself that it wasn’t happening, that there had been a mistake, that things would turn out alright as they always did, but there was no escaping the truth. Not when she kept circling back again and again to the grim words spoken by a man she did not know over the phone in the blackness of the early morning, not when she could already feel the swallowing emptiness of a life broken and ruined in the space of a moment and the knowledge that she would be left alone to pick up the pieces. Those words, those damned words that had brought the world crashing down echoed and burned in her memory, terrible in their permanence and finality.

“Miss Hooper? I’m from the Civil Aviation Authority, and I’m very sorry to inform you as the listed next of kin for one Martin Crieff that there was a sudden thunderstorm over the Bering Sea early this morning that caught the airplane designated Golf Echo Romeo Tango India by surprise. It appears that the craft was brought down by the turbulence and crashed into the ocean at approximately 2 in the morning.

There were no survivors.”

Molly opened her eyes to the new day, warm and glowing and full of bright promise.

She hated it.

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Zip Me

mirabilelectu:

“Molly, I’m going to be late!”

“No you’re not, just keep going!”

The time was half past seven, and Martin was definitely going to be late. There was no way around it, really, not at this point when he was just now brushing his teeth, had yet to shave, and had somehow managed to lose three quarters of his uniform in the space of two days spent at Molly’s flat. The taxi would be here in approximately 16 no, damn, 15 minutes, and if Martin didn’t manage to complete his morning routine before it pulled up and honked its horn there was a very real chance that it would leave without him. He was, to put it politely, bloody well screwed.

The sound of Molly running frantically throughout the flat in search of his tie echoed into the tiny bathroom where Martin was attempting the land speed record for shaving without slitting his throat open in the process, an endeavor that was not aided by Molly nearly crashing into him as she skidded into the room to loop his tie around his neck. There was a tricky bit of maneuvering as Martin turned his body to allow Molly to tie the damned thing as he continued to shave, but luckily no blood was spilled in the process and quick as a flash she was off again to locate his jacket. Martin could only spare a few quick seconds to wonder how on earth she managed to get his tie on better in the first go than he did in three or four, but that thought was soon lost as he turned his attention immediately to combing his hair into something as close to a style as he could manage with what he had. It wasn’t much, but at least it didn’t take very long.

Running from the bathroom to pull on trousers was next, and it very nearly ended in disaster as he somehow managed to shove both feet into one leg at the same time and almost face planted onto the carpet of Molly’s bedroom. Only a desperate windmilling of his arms and Molly’s steadying hands saved him from a truly impressive rugburn on his face that he would surely never hear the end of, and in moments nimble hands were pulling trousers up and slinging a jacket around his shoulders before he could even process what had happened. 

“Alright, your wallet and all your things are in your trouser pockets, and I made sure to put your epaulettes on the right way this time, what else do you need?” Molly asked breathlessly, brushing stray lint off of his jacket and adjusting his tie to make sure that it was the proper length. 

Martin blinked, somehow unable to believe that he was awake, much less dressed and apparently ready to go. “I think I have everything -“

The sound of a shrill taxi horn rent the air, causing them both to jump in surprise. As if the horn had been just the reminder he needed, Martin realized the last piece of his uniform that he was missing and gasped in horror. “My hat! I don’t know where my hat is!”

He cast about frantically for several moments, scanning bed, floor, and dresser in quick succession and coming up empty. But before he could truly panic that his beloved hat would have to stay this journey behind and open him up to several hours of teasing he didn’t want to face, there was a flash of motion as Molly bent over to rummage under the bed and produce his hat none the worse for wear with a triumphant grin. In seconds it was perched jauntily on his head, and she leaned up with a happy smile for a kiss that was as much of a “You’re welcome” as an “I love you, have a wonderful day”.

“Go get ‘em, Captain,” she murmured against his lips, and with a quick shove pushed him stumbling and laughing towards the door and whatever adventure this day held for him.

image

mirabilelectu: artbylexie: Riding by ~lexieken mo-ho and  strawberrypatty  made me do this based on this post. (once again, my scanner HATES larger-than-8x11 paper and some of this got cut off, but it’s just a small bit). “John, this is ridiculous.” “Come off it, I’m not passing up this opportunity.” “What, an opportunity for you to get blackmail on me? I don’t think so.” “No, an opportunity to get a picture of the two of you, and a picture of you two looking lovely. Now hold still.” “Oh, please Sherlock? It’s just one picture.” Molly was the deciding factor, as she ever was. Whether it was convincing Sherlock to take her riding again for the first time in fifteen years, or something as simple as sitting for one photograph in their riding gear before they left, there were times when all it took was a winning smile and a patient plea from Molly to have the man wrapped around her little finger. It was a talent she used sparingly, but to great effect, and this instance was no different. Sherlock would grumble, and Sherlock would pout, but Sherlock would relent. And that in itself was no small miracle. Settling into his chair with a sullen frown, Sherlock glared at John across the room as though his anger would render the camera ineffective at a distance of ten feet. Molly seemed much happier about the proposition however, positioning herself next tot he chair and cheekily propping one elegantly booted foot on the seat and looking for all the world like a conquering hero claiming it for her own. She had never looked quite so refined or elegant as she did in the riding habit that Sherlock had found for her somewhere, hair swept back into a regal bun and tall black boots polished to a high shine that matched the gleam of Sherlock’s own. They were a stunning pair together, Molly’s distinction complimenting Sherlock’s simplicity perfectly, and John was quite sure he had never seen a more distinguished pair. “Alright, ready?” he asked, hoping that he would be able to get something out of Sherlock that wasn’t an angry frown and yet quite sure that he would not. But as he raised the camera up, a light of wickedness that John knew all too well lit Sherlock’s face. Grabbing the riding crop that had lain forgotten on the arm of his chair, Sherlock used his right hand to slowly caress the leather of Molly’s boot even as he reclined into the chair as a picture of perfect nonchalance. The movement was slow, intimate, and so suggestive that it could mean one thing and one thing only. It was too late to stop now, and the camera flashed out into the living room before John could process what had just occurred. But when he blinked away his confusion to look at the display screen, it was all too clear. One look at the riding crop resting delicately against Molly’s boot, the suggestive pose with legs sprawled out, and the knowing grins from both woman and detective who clearly had bigger and better plans for John this evening than he had expected, and John knew that the two of them had definite ideas on how to put that crop to use. And somehow, he really could not bring himself to be bothered about it. Surprise Jollock!!!! This is LOVELY.
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mirabilelectu:

artbylexie:

Riding by ~lexieken

mo-ho and  strawberrypatty  made me do this based on this post.

(once again, my scanner HATES larger-than-8x11 paper and some of this got cut off, but it’s just a small bit).

“John, this is ridiculous.”

“Come off it, I’m not passing up this opportunity.”

“What, an opportunity for you to get blackmail on me? I don’t think so.”

“No, an opportunity to get a picture of the two of you, and a picture of you two looking lovely. Now hold still.”

“Oh, please Sherlock? It’s just one picture.”

Molly was the deciding factor, as she ever was. Whether it was convincing Sherlock to take her riding again for the first time in fifteen years, or something as simple as sitting for one photograph in their riding gear before they left, there were times when all it took was a winning smile and a patient plea from Molly to have the man wrapped around her little finger. It was a talent she used sparingly, but to great effect, and this instance was no different. Sherlock would grumble, and Sherlock would pout, but Sherlock would relent. And that in itself was no small miracle.

Settling into his chair with a sullen frown, Sherlock glared at John across the room as though his anger would render the camera ineffective at a distance of ten feet. Molly seemed much happier about the proposition however, positioning herself next tot he chair and cheekily propping one elegantly booted foot on the seat and looking for all the world like a conquering hero claiming it for her own. She had never looked quite so refined or elegant as she did in the riding habit that Sherlock had found for her somewhere, hair swept back into a regal bun and tall black boots polished to a high shine that matched the gleam of Sherlock’s own. They were a stunning pair together, Molly’s distinction complimenting Sherlock’s simplicity perfectly, and John was quite sure he had never seen a more distinguished pair.

“Alright, ready?” he asked, hoping that he would be able to get something out of Sherlock that wasn’t an angry frown and yet quite sure that he would not. But as he raised the camera up, a light of wickedness that John knew all too well lit Sherlock’s face. Grabbing the riding crop that had lain forgotten on the arm of his chair, Sherlock used his right hand to slowly caress the leather of Molly’s boot even as he reclined into the chair as a picture of perfect nonchalance. The movement was slow, intimate, and so suggestive that it could mean one thing and one thing only.

It was too late to stop now, and the camera flashed out into the living room before John could process what had just occurred. But when he blinked away his confusion to look at the display screen, it was all too clear. One look at the riding crop resting delicately against Molly’s boot, the suggestive pose with legs sprawled out, and the knowing grins from both woman and detective who clearly had bigger and better plans for John this evening than he had expected, and John knew that the two of them had definite ideas on how to put that crop to use. And somehow, he really could not bring himself to be bothered about it.

Surprise Jollock!!!! This is LOVELY.

Source: artbylexie

Let’s talk about malicious ignorance and reason #3 as to why we can’t have nice things.

I’m not sure what’s happened to this website where it seems like there is a movement sweeping across several of the largest fandoms where people are going OUT OF THEIR WAY to stand on a soap box and make declarative sentences that are neither well thought out nor do they particularly make any real sense. 

Even more worrying, they then take this ignorance and use to harm others, using their words like wrecking balls through people’s enjoyment. 

Why are they doing this?

WHY?


I’m not a person that generally talks about these things, but I now have had TWO of the most wonderful people I know be HARASSED to the point where they are ready to walk away from fandom.

Clare, wonderful, brilliant, kind and FUN strawberrypatty, who brings nothing but the BEST THINGS do our fandom has been accused of being SEXIST? Are you FRAKKING SERIOUS RIGHT NOW??? Because I think it’s possible one of the MOST MALICIOUSLY IGNORANT THINGS THAT HAS EVER BEEN SPOKEN. Let’s not talk right now that this comment is also about how Molly is a character that portrayed misogynisticly (which, I don’t want to go into). What I want to focus on is the fact that the statement that was being made was in every way FALSE. Now, there could be an argument made this is a personal opinion and everyone’s entitled to have them and express them and I agree that that’s true. 

My problem comes when “personal opinions” are delivered in such a way as to MAKE OTHERS FEEL BAD or otherwise lessen their enjoyment.

Which brings me to mirabilelectu, whom has actually WALKED AWAY from tumblr due to all the negativity across her fandoms. 

Is there some sort of sadistic pleasure in bringing people down? How is that healthy? Why is that acceptable? Your blog, your opinions, yes, but that’s why there’s the “new text post” button on your dash and you can talk about the things that matter to you to your heart’s content and not forcibly impose your opinions on others.

Another thing to remember in this particular case: there are those of us here on tumblr who are here because we have JOY. We have families and responsibilities and other things that require our attention, but we have taken the time and effort to BE HERE and SHARE OUR JOY. When we are being brought down by people’s poor choices, well we do the sensible and adult thing: we walk away and take our joy with us. 

And honestly, I’m not at all sorry for that. 

I leave you with this:

The test of a first-rate intelligence is the ability to hold two opposed ideas in the mind at the same time, and still retain the ability to function.

F. Scott Fitzgerald, ”The Crack-Up” (1936)

ETA: OMG and now, NOW people are going around and CHANGING gingerhaze’s ART? HOW DARE YOU. HOW DARE YOU. That is ACTUALLY a CRIME. 

mirabilelectu: “You wanted to what?” Martin shifted uncomfortably, staring down at his shoe scuffing the ground aimlessly while his wings deflated and shrunk to hunch down against his shoulders. He’d known somehow that it would end like this, but somehow he’d still hoped that Molly would understand the silly dream he’d hoarded to himself for so many years of his short life. Of all the people who should have understood it should have been Molly, the one girl, no, the one person who had ever bothered to listen to him any more than was necessary. The only person who had bothered to like him. But Molly had looked at him with such a look of surprise and disbelief on her face when he had told her the first thing that he wanted to be when he grew up that the hopeful fluttering of his wings had died immediately, a blush rising to his face and shame stealing over him once more in a way that he had never hoped to feel when speaking to his only friend. When he finally found his voice to speak, it was so quiet as to be an inaudible mumble into the dust of the field behind his house.”It’s…it’s stupid, never mind. It was a joke.”  But before he could shrink entirely into horrified embarrassment and slink away to hide Molly stepped forward to touch his shoulder gently as a wordless request to stay. He looked up, startled by the sudden gesture, and to his immense surprise and joy a small smile not of derision but of quiet happiness was on her face. “Hey, sorry about that. I didn’t mean to sound so surprised, I just wasn’t expecting it, you know? I thought you were going to say fireman or something stupid like that.” A small smile to match Molly’s cracked Martin’s serious countenance. She could always do that to him, no matter the situation: even when his father had yelled at him in frustration, even when Simon pushed him around, even when the other, bigger boys thought it would be fun to shove him to the ground and call him whatever names they had come up with that day. No matter what, Molly was always there to pick him back up and put a smile back on his face. Steady Molly, faithful Molly, fantastic Molly. His smile stretched into a grin as the silliness of his reaction hit him, and he huffed out a tiny laugh. “Yeah, wanting to be a fireman is stupid. Why would I want to run into fires?” Molly giggled along with him, and Martin felt balance restore itself in his universe. “Naw, being an aeroplane is way better – no fires, no worries, just…soaring.” He looked up into the sky for a moment, lost in the daydream that had haunted him for as long as he could remember. Impossibly white and fluffy clouds drifted overhead, meandering through the clear blue sky in gentle puffs and eddies that beckoned him like nothing ever had. Even now, when he had given up on the fleeting dream to be that magnificent machine powering through the open air, the clouds still called him upwards and onwards, singing the song of freedom from the life he lived that already felt like it was not enough. Yes, the sky called to him, but that did not mean there were not things here on earth to keep him tethered and grounded a well. Another gentle tap on the shoulder brought him back to reality, and Molly’s smiling face reminded him just why the sky might not be the best place for him after all. “Why don’t you though?” she asked curiously, earning a blank stare from him. “Soar, I mean. You could, couldn’t you?” The question took Martin aback, derailing his peaceful thoughts entirely. As ever, Molly had managed to set his world on end in an instant, and he had no idea how to gain his footing once more. Oh true, he had thought about flying before – how could he have not? And he had even tried it, imitating one of the older winged boys he had seen swooping about the schoolyard by flapping and jumping and flinging himself about in his backyard after school one day. But even though the bit of height he had gained had been thrilling, even though he had dreamed for so long of soaring through the open sky, something about flapping around alone in his yard had simply not captured his imagination the way he had hoped it might. It had not come close to living up to the dream he had constructed for himself of tranquil gliding, and so in frustration and no little disappointment he had given up and resigned himself to wishful thinking. Molly was still looking at him curiously, and he shrugged awkwardly, bringing his wings into the gesture to emphasize his point. “I don’t know…I mean yeah I could. I guess. I did try, but it wasn’t the way I imagined it, you know? Besides, flying by yourself doesn’t seem like any fun I guess. The whole point of being an aeroplane is to take people places.” A smile as bright as the sun dawned over Molly’s face. - “Are you sure this is a good idea?” “Yes, Martin, I’m sure!” “But…” “Just do it! Fly!” - The sky was clear, blue, and endless. Martin had never felt so utterly terrified in his entire life, nor so alive. The wind was rushing beneath his wings with fearsome speed and indescribable joy, whipping against his face and blowing through his feathers and breathing new life into him that he had not even known he needed. Not even the great distance to the ground beneath him could stop him now, nor make him want to return to earth to place his feet on the solid ground, nor take his head out of the clouds where they belonged. This was freedom, this was happiness, this was living. Molly was a solid weight on his back, heavy and solid and reassuring. He had worried that he would not be able to take off with her there, but somehow her arms wrapped around his neck did not pull him down out of the sky but instead gave him the strength to fly higher and farther than he had ever dreamed. Her laughter and squeals of delight as they swooped and dipped brought a smile of delight to his face, and spurred him on to greater feats of aerial showmanship. This was marvelous. This was better than marvelous. This was the most wonderful thing he could have ever imagined. He had no idea how long they would be able to do this, how often they would be able to soar into the sky together, if this would possibly be the only time they would be able to move as one person high in the sky and forget the world below. All he knew was that for now, in this moment, with the wind in his wings and his best friend giggling in his ear, life was perfect. - (Art/fic collaboration with Lexie for the Cotton Candy Bingo Challenge. Fill for the prompt “wings”.) This was the most fun! All the feelings!
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mirabilelectu:

“You wanted to what?”

Martin shifted uncomfortably, staring down at his shoe scuffing the ground aimlessly while his wings deflated and shrunk to hunch down against his shoulders. He’d known somehow that it would end like this, but somehow he’d still hoped that Molly would understand the silly dream he’d hoarded to himself for so many years of his short life. Of all the people who should have understood it should have been Molly, the one girl, no, the one person who had ever bothered to listen to him any more than was necessary. The only person who had bothered to like him.

But Molly had looked at him with such a look of surprise and disbelief on her face when he had told her the first thing that he wanted to be when he grew up that the hopeful fluttering of his wings had died immediately, a blush rising to his face and shame stealing over him once more in a way that he had never hoped to feel when speaking to his only friend. When he finally found his voice to speak, it was so quiet as to be an inaudible mumble into the dust of the field behind his house.”It’s…it’s stupid, never mind. It was a joke.” 

But before he could shrink entirely into horrified embarrassment and slink away to hide Molly stepped forward to touch his shoulder gently as a wordless request to stay. He looked up, startled by the sudden gesture, and to his immense surprise and joy a small smile not of derision but of quiet happiness was on her face. “Hey, sorry about that. I didn’t mean to sound so surprised, I just wasn’t expecting it, you know? I thought you were going to say fireman or something stupid like that.”

A small smile to match Molly’s cracked Martin’s serious countenance. She could always do that to him, no matter the situation: even when his father had yelled at him in frustration, even when Simon pushed him around, even when the other, bigger boys thought it would be fun to shove him to the ground and call him whatever names they had come up with that day. No matter what, Molly was always there to pick him back up and put a smile back on his face. Steady Molly, faithful Molly, fantastic Molly. His smile stretched into a grin as the silliness of his reaction hit him, and he huffed out a tiny laugh. “Yeah, wanting to be a fireman is stupid. Why would I want to run into fires?” Molly giggled along with him, and Martin felt balance restore itself in his universe. “Naw, being an aeroplane is way better – no fires, no worries, just…soaring.”

He looked up into the sky for a moment, lost in the daydream that had haunted him for as long as he could remember. Impossibly white and fluffy clouds drifted overhead, meandering through the clear blue sky in gentle puffs and eddies that beckoned him like nothing ever had. Even now, when he had given up on the fleeting dream to be that magnificent machine powering through the open air, the clouds still called him upwards and onwards, singing the song of freedom from the life he lived that already felt like it was not enough. Yes, the sky called to him, but that did not mean there were not things here on earth to keep him tethered and grounded a well. Another gentle tap on the shoulder brought him back to reality, and Molly’s smiling face reminded him just why the sky might not be the best place for him after all.

“Why don’t you though?” she asked curiously, earning a blank stare from him. “Soar, I mean. You could, couldn’t you?”

The question took Martin aback, derailing his peaceful thoughts entirely. As ever, Molly had managed to set his world on end in an instant, and he had no idea how to gain his footing once more. Oh true, he had thought about flying before – how could he have not? And he had even tried it, imitating one of the older winged boys he had seen swooping about the schoolyard by flapping and jumping and flinging himself about in his backyard after school one day. But even though the bit of height he had gained had been thrilling, even though he had dreamed for so long of soaring through the open sky, something about flapping around alone in his yard had simply not captured his imagination the way he had hoped it might. It had not come close to living up to the dream he had constructed for himself of tranquil gliding, and so in frustration and no little disappointment he had given up and resigned himself to wishful thinking.

Molly was still looking at him curiously, and he shrugged awkwardly, bringing his wings into the gesture to emphasize his point. “I don’t know…I mean yeah I could. I guess. I did try, but it wasn’t the way I imagined it, you know? Besides, flying by yourself doesn’t seem like any fun I guess. The whole point of being an aeroplane is to take people places.”

A smile as bright as the sun dawned over Molly’s face.

-

“Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“Yes, Martin, I’m sure!”

“But…”

“Just do it! Fly!”

-

The sky was clear, blue, and endless.

Martin had never felt so utterly terrified in his entire life, nor so alive. The wind was rushing beneath his wings with fearsome speed and indescribable joy, whipping against his face and blowing through his feathers and breathing new life into him that he had not even known he needed. Not even the great distance to the ground beneath him could stop him now, nor make him want to return to earth to place his feet on the solid ground, nor take his head out of the clouds where they belonged. This was freedom, this was happiness, this was living.

Molly was a solid weight on his back, heavy and solid and reassuring. He had worried that he would not be able to take off with her there, but somehow her arms wrapped around his neck did not pull him down out of the sky but instead gave him the strength to fly higher and farther than he had ever dreamed. Her laughter and squeals of delight as they swooped and dipped brought a smile of delight to his face, and spurred him on to greater feats of aerial showmanship. This was marvelous. This was better than marvelous. This was the most wonderful thing he could have ever imagined.

He had no idea how long they would be able to do this, how often they would be able to soar into the sky together, if this would possibly be the only time they would be able to move as one person high in the sky and forget the world below. All he knew was that for now, in this moment, with the wind in his wings and his best friend giggling in his ear, life was perfect.

-

(Art/fic collaboration with Lexie for the Cotton Candy Bingo Challenge. Fill for the prompt “wings”.)

This was the most fun! All the feelings!

mirabilelectu:

It was laughable, really, that none of them had figured it out yet.

The ruse was nearly transparent to anyone who looked closely enough, the very idea enough to make him laugh aloud in disbelief when it was first proposed to him in documents far more official than the absurdity contained within deserved. Who would ever believe such a thing? A fine actor he may be, skilled beyond compare in the arts of deception and subterfuge and the long con that had become as natural to him as breathing, but surely this was a step too far. Surely no one would fall for a story straight out of a cheap melodrama, no one would believe a history so patently engineered to earn sympathy and trust and condescending pity. But they had. One by one, they all bought into the carefully constructed identity that he assumed like a second skin, assessing and dismissing him as harmless and hopeless in an instant. Just as he intended.

For who would ever dream of suspecting that Martin Crieff, the nervous, bumbling, useless pilot was nothing more than a cover for Martin Holmes, undercover agent for the British government?

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So, my primary job is to be a Consulting Enabler. 

Mostly, I do this with a handful of people over gchat, usually late at night.

Just the day before yesterday, I had the BEST IDEA IN THE WORLD. Naturally, I gave it to someone who actually knows how to write properly. 

Here is the result.

**grins**

mirabilelectu: Just thought I’d share the little bursts of Martin/Molly fluff by the fabulous artbylexie and sadovayastreet that I scattered around my apartment. I’m a real grownup, I swear. Honey, you are wonderful! I’m SOOOOO glad that these make you happy. <3
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mirabilelectu: Just thought I’d share the little bursts of Martin/Molly fluff by the fabulous artbylexie and sadovayastreet that I scattered around my apartment. I’m a real grownup, I swear. Honey, you are wonderful! I’m SOOOOO glad that these make you happy. <3
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mirabilelectu: Just thought I’d share the little bursts of Martin/Molly fluff by the fabulous artbylexie and sadovayastreet that I scattered around my apartment. I’m a real grownup, I swear. Honey, you are wonderful! I’m SOOOOO glad that these make you happy. <3
Zoom Info

mirabilelectu:

Just thought I’d share the little bursts of Martin/Molly fluff by the fabulous artbylexie and sadovayastreet that I scattered around my apartment.

I’m a real grownup, I swear.

Honey, you are wonderful! I’m SOOOOO glad that these make you happy. <3

mirabilelectu: It was one of those rare spring days in London that had actually decided to conform to the dictates of the season, complete with cheery sunshine, a warm breeze, and white puffy clouds straight from a painting drifting through a crystal blue sky. The residents of the city collectively blinked in surprise at the unfamiliar sight of the sun after so long under the cover of perpetual grayness, shrugging in resignation and acceptance of the fact that the warmth would very likely be short lived. And yet there was no denying that the city seemed to have extra bounce in its step today, its people smiling a little wider and laughing just a tiny bit more brightly as they shed their winter clothes for a brief moment of sunshine and joy. The park was especially vibrant. Everywhere children ran shrieking with laughter, tumbling into the grass with yells of happiness as they reveled in the chance to escape dreary homes and let out the energy that had been pent inside them for far too long. Dogs darted around their smiling owners enjoying leisurely strolls through the sunshine, and joggers wove through flying Frisbees and footballs that had made appearance months ahead of schedule. And in the midst of it all were the happy couples dozing and picnicking in the warmth of the sun, oblivious to the world around them and lost in the romance of a spring day that had lived up to its full potential. Much to their mutual surprise, Martin Crieff and Molly Hooper were one such happy couple lounging on a brightly colored blanket on the grass, enjoying the remains of a hastily thrown together picnic lunch and scarcely able to believe their luck. They had very nearly not been able to spend the day together, but a last-minute cancelled flight and a light load of work at the morgue meant that fate was for once on their side and graciously allowed them to be together on the nicest day of the year so far. They were taking full advantage of the opportunity, beginning their sixth official date together with a slow stroll through one of London’s many shopping districts before ending up happily ensconced in a neighborhood park where they intended to while away the afternoon in blissful indolence. It was quite possibly the perfect afternoon, and neither of them wanted it to ever end. Molly had claimed most of the blanket for herself, stretching herself out to rest her head contentedly in Martin’s lap and stare at the clouds floating lazily overhead while handing Martin the daisies she had picked earlier with a giggle every time he plucked one out of her fingers. For his part, Martin was putting the skills learned as a younger brother to a bossy older sister to good use, braiding the daisies slowly into Molly’s hair with nimble fingers as he had done for Caitlin so many years ago. He was amazed that he still remembered how to do it quite frankly, but something about the soft whisper of Molly’s hair across his fingertips as flower after flower was gently put into place felt so natural and so soothing that before long an intricate crown of flowers had taken shape. “What’s that you’re humming?” Molly asked with a smile. Martin blinked and looked at her questioningly, unaware that he had been doing anything of the sort. Molly only grinned wider and reached up to tweak his nose gently. “Yes, you were humming, silly. What song was it? It sounded familiar.” With an embarrassed blush, Martin realized that there was only one song it could have been. It was the flowers that had done it, reminding him of the plan that had seemed like such a good idea last week and had been on his mind ever since. He’d been meaning to tell Molly about it all day but could not quite seem to find the right moment.  Well, now was as good a time as any. “It was, um. Well, the flowers reminded me…” he trailed off with a nervous swallow, then braced himself to take the plunge. “How would you like to go to San Francisco?” Any pretense of subtlety or smoothness had vanished in the blink of an eye. Molly stared up at him in shock, mouth dropping open slightly. Martin’s blush deepened, and he spoke again quickly to cover up the incredible suddenness of his question. “Well, um, MJN is flying to San Francisco next week, and I thought that, well if you wanted anyway, you could come with us? I’ve always wanted to go because of this song my mum used to sing me when I was little, and apparently it’s nice this time of year, so I asked Carolyn and she said that you can come along for free and we can stay for a few days, just the two of us. It’ll be nice.” While he was speaking, Molly had taken the chance to sit up slowly, staring at him in astonished silence all the while. The bottom seemed to drop out of Martin’s stomach as she did not respond, and he stammered hurriedly “Of course you don’t have to, it was just an idea. God, sorry, it was a stupid idea, I never should have mentioned it, it’s way too early for us to do something crazy like that –“ Any further words were silenced as Molly threw herself at him and kissed him for all she was worth. As Martin held her tenderly in the spring sunshine with the scent of flowers all around them, he could not help but remember with a glow of happiness the old song that had for so long been the refrain of hope and love weaving through his life with gentle reassurance. If you’re going to San Francisco, be sure to wear some flowers in your hair.
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mirabilelectu:

It was one of those rare spring days in London that had actually decided to conform to the dictates of the season, complete with cheery sunshine, a warm breeze, and white puffy clouds straight from a painting drifting through a crystal blue sky. The residents of the city collectively blinked in surprise at the unfamiliar sight of the sun after so long under the cover of perpetual grayness, shrugging in resignation and acceptance of the fact that the warmth would very likely be short lived. And yet there was no denying that the city seemed to have extra bounce in its step today, its people smiling a little wider and laughing just a tiny bit more brightly as they shed their winter clothes for a brief moment of sunshine and joy.

The park was especially vibrant. Everywhere children ran shrieking with laughter, tumbling into the grass with yells of happiness as they reveled in the chance to escape dreary homes and let out the energy that had been pent inside them for far too long. Dogs darted around their smiling owners enjoying leisurely strolls through the sunshine, and joggers wove through flying Frisbees and footballs that had made appearance months ahead of schedule. And in the midst of it all were the happy couples dozing and picnicking in the warmth of the sun, oblivious to the world around them and lost in the romance of a spring day that had lived up to its full potential.

Much to their mutual surprise, Martin Crieff and Molly Hooper were one such happy couple lounging on a brightly colored blanket on the grass, enjoying the remains of a hastily thrown together picnic lunch and scarcely able to believe their luck. They had very nearly not been able to spend the day together, but a last-minute cancelled flight and a light load of work at the morgue meant that fate was for once on their side and graciously allowed them to be together on the nicest day of the year so far. They were taking full advantage of the opportunity, beginning their sixth official date together with a slow stroll through one of London’s many shopping districts before ending up happily ensconced in a neighborhood park where they intended to while away the afternoon in blissful indolence. It was quite possibly the perfect afternoon, and neither of them wanted it to ever end.

Molly had claimed most of the blanket for herself, stretching herself out to rest her head contentedly in Martin’s lap and stare at the clouds floating lazily overhead while handing Martin the daisies she had picked earlier with a giggle every time he plucked one out of her fingers. For his part, Martin was putting the skills learned as a younger brother to a bossy older sister to good use, braiding the daisies slowly into Molly’s hair with nimble fingers as he had done for Caitlin so many years ago. He was amazed that he still remembered how to do it quite frankly, but something about the soft whisper of Molly’s hair across his fingertips as flower after flower was gently put into place felt so natural and so soothing that before long an intricate crown of flowers had taken shape.

“What’s that you’re humming?” Molly asked with a smile. Martin blinked and looked at her questioningly, unaware that he had been doing anything of the sort. Molly only grinned wider and reached up to tweak his nose gently. “Yes, you were humming, silly. What song was it? It sounded familiar.”

With an embarrassed blush, Martin realized that there was only one song it could have been. It was the flowers that had done it, reminding him of the plan that had seemed like such a good idea last week and had been on his mind ever since. He’d been meaning to tell Molly about it all day but could not quite seem to find the right moment.  Well, now was as good a time as any.

“It was, um. Well, the flowers reminded me…” he trailed off with a nervous swallow, then braced himself to take the plunge. “How would you like to go to San Francisco?”

Any pretense of subtlety or smoothness had vanished in the blink of an eye. Molly stared up at him in shock, mouth dropping open slightly. Martin’s blush deepened, and he spoke again quickly to cover up the incredible suddenness of his question. “Well, um, MJN is flying to San Francisco next week, and I thought that, well if you wanted anyway, you could come with us? I’ve always wanted to go because of this song my mum used to sing me when I was little, and apparently it’s nice this time of year, so I asked Carolyn and she said that you can come along for free and we can stay for a few days, just the two of us. It’ll be nice.” While he was speaking, Molly had taken the chance to sit up slowly, staring at him in astonished silence all the while. The bottom seemed to drop out of Martin’s stomach as she did not respond, and he stammered hurriedly “Of course you don’t have to, it was just an idea. God, sorry, it was a stupid idea, I never should have mentioned it, it’s way too early for us to do something crazy like that –“

Any further words were silenced as Molly threw herself at him and kissed him for all she was worth. As Martin held her tenderly in the spring sunshine with the scent of flowers all around them, he could not help but remember with a glow of happiness the old song that had for so long been the refrain of hope and love weaving through his life with gentle reassurance.

If you’re going to San Francisco,
be sure to wear some flowers in your hair.

Source: artbylexie

mirabilelectu: artbylexie: “What is it, Martin?” “Nothing. It’s just you might be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” I am feeling schmoopy and when I feel like this, I need Molly and Martin. In all of his years of travelling and the many and varied places he had visited in his life, this summer in Fitton was quiet possibly the hottest series of months that he had ever experienced. England wasn’t supposed to be this hot, not ever, and yet the heat was so oppressive that even breathing had become difficult in the blazing light of the sun. People throughout the country were wilting, drooping despondently in the face of sweltering temperatures that they were simply not prepared for. England was melting, and Martin was melting right along with them. Still, he reflected as he entered the stifling apartment and peeled gratefully peeled off his overshirt and kicked off his shoes with a sigh of relief, it could be worse. He at least was able to escape the house and move about freely to find some measure of coolness elsewhere, something that could not be said for his wife at the moment. Molly, the poor thing, was currently not only housebound but bedridden as well, just beginning the ninth month of her first pregnancy and no longer able to bear the stress of walking for longer than a few minutes. She hated being confined to the house, hated how tired she was at all times, and most certainly hated the lethargy that came with being so hugely pregnant during one of the hottest summers on record. No matter how bad Martin felt he had it in the heat of the day, he knew that Molly had it worse. He breathed out a sigh of relief as he entered the bedroom however, reveling in the rush of cool air that came out to greet him in the close air of the hallway. The bedroom was the only room of the house that was a livable temperature thanks to the air-conditioning unit they had scrimped and saved to afford when the thermometer had begun to climb at the beginning of the summer. It had been a heavy expense to bear on top of the necessary preparations for the baby, but one that Martin was grateful for every day. He could not stand to see Molly suffer in the heat, and he would pay for a thousand more air conditioners if it would help her through this last month. She was propped up in bed now, cushioned by pillows as she read a book with her left hand resting gently on the swell of her belly and a small smile on her face. She was, quite simply, radiant. Even despite the heat and the discomfort she was feeling, it was obvious from the glowing satisfaction that poured from her just how happy she was, and Martin felt his heart ache with happiness just to look at her. The happy grin she sent at him only made the glow of happiness in his chest expand, until it felt as though he would burst from the joy of simply looking at his wife. Crossing the room quickly he climbed onto the bed where Molly was reclining, climbing across towards her until he was sprawled out in front of her. Her smile only grew as he pushed up her shirt slightly to reveal the skin pulled taut over the child growing insider her, and bloomed into a quiet laugh when he brushed it with a delicate kiss. He looked up at her as she ran a tender hand through his hair, hand resting reverently on her stomach, and seeing the tumble of her hair around a face that was radiant with beauty and life and love stole his breath away. “What is it, Martin?” she asked quietly when he did not speak but simply continued to stare at her in awe. “Nothing,” he murmured, reaching up to tangle his fingers in her hair. “It’s just you might be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” BABY YOU ARE THE BEST THANK YOU FOR BEING SO GOOD TO ME.
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mirabilelectu:

artbylexie:

“What is it, Martin?”

“Nothing. It’s just you might be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

I am feeling schmoopy and when I feel like this, I need Molly and Martin.

In all of his years of travelling and the many and varied places he had visited in his life, this summer in Fitton was quiet possibly the hottest series of months that he had ever experienced. England wasn’t supposed to be this hot, not ever, and yet the heat was so oppressive that even breathing had become difficult in the blazing light of the sun. People throughout the country were wilting, drooping despondently in the face of sweltering temperatures that they were simply not prepared for. England was melting, and Martin was melting right along with them.

Still, he reflected as he entered the stifling apartment and peeled gratefully peeled off his overshirt and kicked off his shoes with a sigh of relief, it could be worse. He at least was able to escape the house and move about freely to find some measure of coolness elsewhere, something that could not be said for his wife at the moment. Molly, the poor thing, was currently not only housebound but bedridden as well, just beginning the ninth month of her first pregnancy and no longer able to bear the stress of walking for longer than a few minutes. She hated being confined to the house, hated how tired she was at all times, and most certainly hated the lethargy that came with being so hugely pregnant during one of the hottest summers on record. No matter how bad Martin felt he had it in the heat of the day, he knew that Molly had it worse.

He breathed out a sigh of relief as he entered the bedroom however, reveling in the rush of cool air that came out to greet him in the close air of the hallway. The bedroom was the only room of the house that was a livable temperature thanks to the air-conditioning unit they had scrimped and saved to afford when the thermometer had begun to climb at the beginning of the summer. It had been a heavy expense to bear on top of the necessary preparations for the baby, but one that Martin was grateful for every day. He could not stand to see Molly suffer in the heat, and he would pay for a thousand more air conditioners if it would help her through this last month.

She was propped up in bed now, cushioned by pillows as she read a book with her left hand resting gently on the swell of her belly and a small smile on her face. She was, quite simply, radiant. Even despite the heat and the discomfort she was feeling, it was obvious from the glowing satisfaction that poured from her just how happy she was, and Martin felt his heart ache with happiness just to look at her. The happy grin she sent at him only made the glow of happiness in his chest expand, until it felt as though he would burst from the joy of simply looking at his wife.

Crossing the room quickly he climbed onto the bed where Molly was reclining, climbing across towards her until he was sprawled out in front of her. Her smile only grew as he pushed up her shirt slightly to reveal the skin pulled taut over the child growing insider her, and bloomed into a quiet laugh when he brushed it with a delicate kiss. He looked up at her as she ran a tender hand through his hair, hand resting reverently on her stomach, and seeing the tumble of her hair around a face that was radiant with beauty and life and love stole his breath away.

“What is it, Martin?” she asked quietly when he did not speak but simply continued to stare at her in awe.

“Nothing,” he murmured, reaching up to tangle his fingers in her hair. “It’s just you might be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

BABY YOU ARE THE BEST THANK YOU FOR BEING SO GOOD TO ME.

Source: artbylexie

Feels Friday

Things I have feelings for:
- the end of The Full House is coming up soon (excite!)…
- I still haven’t finished Hopper House Rules (shame)…
- nor the illustrations for TFH (panic) (it’s fifty chapters, cut me some slack, Lex!)..
- fandom (general ennui coupled with the inclination to flee).
- the other illustration that right now might become a collab piece (OMG EXCITE!!!).
- SDCC (HOLY FRAK IT IS GOING TO BE EPIC)
- BBri (happy)
- work (nervous)
- gchat + my Erik = THE FULL SPECTRUM OF FEELINGS
- art giveaway contest (conflicted). Should I do a giveaway? Should it be old work or new work or both? How many? Just my followers or anyone? How do people do this?

mirabilelectu: Here Comes The Sun Under normal circumstances, gathering together an entire houseful of college students in one place for any significant amount of time was enough of an achievement to merit a special notation on the calendar, but to have everyone sitting around the kitchen table at 8 AM on a Saturday morning and mostly coherent while doing so was very nearly a miracle. The last time even a fraction of the house at Parkside Terrace had been awake this early on a weekend was when exams were in full swing and both Colin and Olivia had stayed up all night studying together in the kitchen in a frenzied attempt to pass their chemistry class, and that had been a case of “never slept” instead of “got up early”. This morning was quite frankly an anomaly of fantastic proportions, and not one that was likely to be repeated soon. The early morning wake-up rumblings for the household had begun with Olivia once again, and she was very decidedly not happy about it. To be honest she had absolutely no idea why her body had decided that it needed to be awake at 7:30 in the bloody morning on one of the only two days that she got to sleep in, but awake she was and awake she was going to remain for the time being. No matter how she tossed or turned in her narrow bed she simply could not fall back asleep, not with the sliver of light that was coming through the window to fall directly on her face or the way Lizzie and Darren were both snoring as they clung to each other across the room. Finally with a frustrated groan she lurched herself out of bed and rummaged around blindly for the slippers that had managed to disappear again, grumbling angrily to herself all the while until she finally located them under a pile of dirty clothes that had not yet made it to the laundry. Bollocks, I really need to do those…later. Not now. Coffee now. Read more
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mirabilelectu:

Here Comes The Sun

Under normal circumstances, gathering together an entire houseful of college students in one place for any significant amount of time was enough of an achievement to merit a special notation on the calendar, but to have everyone sitting around the kitchen table at 8 AM on a Saturday morning and mostly coherent while doing so was very nearly a miracle. The last time even a fraction of the house at Parkside Terrace had been awake this early on a weekend was when exams were in full swing and both Colin and Olivia had stayed up all night studying together in the kitchen in a frenzied attempt to pass their chemistry class, and that had been a case of “never slept” instead of “got up early”. This morning was quite frankly an anomaly of fantastic proportions, and not one that was likely to be repeated soon.

The early morning wake-up rumblings for the household had begun with Olivia once again, and she was very decidedly not happy about it. To be honest she had absolutely no idea why her body had decided that it needed to be awake at 7:30 in the bloody morning on one of the only two days that she got to sleep in, but awake she was and awake she was going to remain for the time being. No matter how she tossed or turned in her narrow bed she simply could not fall back asleep, not with the sliver of light that was coming through the window to fall directly on her face or the way Lizzie and Darren were both snoring as they clung to each other across the room. Finally with a frustrated groan she lurched herself out of bed and rummaged around blindly for the slippers that had managed to disappear again, grumbling angrily to herself all the while until she finally located them under a pile of dirty clothes that had not yet made it to the laundry. Bollocks, I really need to do those…later. Not now. Coffee now.

Read more

mirabilelectu: (Parts 1, 2) In all of the excitement of suddenly finding herself in the arms of a man who had rescued her from imminent disaster, Molly had completely forgotten about the one potential roadblock to her unexpectedly happy day - to wit, the firmly shut doors of the departure gate that she should have gone through at least ten minutes ago. Giddy joy melted away like the morning dew under a hot sun as she stared at the empty space where her plane had once stood, feeling her heart sink in despair and tears well in her eyes at the thought of her dream vacation that had been ruined before it even began. The last thing she wanted was to start crying in front of the cute pilot who had gallantly insisted on escorting her to her gate with a proffered arm after not only catching her as she fell but helping her retrieve her lost possessions, but honestly the prospect of not even getting to go on her trip to Verona rendered everything else meaningless.  But before the tears burning in her eyes could spill down her cheeks or her chin could truly begin to wobble from the effort of repressing a sob, a gentle hand touched her hesitantly on the shoulder. With a slight jump she dashed the incriminating evidence from her eyes and turned to look at the man who had introduced himself as Captain Martin Crieff as they had walked over to the gate. His face had flushed an adorable pink as he stumbled slightly over his title, and quickly gone from pink to red along with a surprisingly large smile when she had giggled at his slip and squeezed his arm gently in commiseration. Martin was looking at her now with an expression of sincere regret and worry on his face, almost as though he were afraid that her current predicament was somehow his fault. “Oh God, I’m so sorry.” The poor man looked almost as upset as she felt, and for some reason she could not name Molly felt a bit of her despair lift at the thought. Apparently bad situations could be made a little less terrible if there was someone there to comfort you instead of make a sarcastic comment or hurtful observation about your weight. With a deep breath she steadied herself and managed to say in an admirably calm voice, “It’s…it’s not your fault. It’s fine.” That was a blatant lie of course - it certainly wasn’t fine, but there was no way that she was going to let him know that. Molly was many things, but helpless had never been one of them, and she was through letting the men in her life think that about her. “I’ll just figure out how to get to Verona another way. It’s not the end of the world.” Martin’s eyes went wide, and for a moment Molly was afraid that he had offended him in some way. But before she could ask what she had done wrong he asked in a voice full of wonder “You’re going to Verona?” And that was how, not twenty minutes later, she found herself walking across the tarmac of the airport in order to be secreted onto a tiny charter plane headed for Rome. The lucky coincidence was almost not to be believed, but Martin had insisted that they were indeed already headed for Rome and that the plane he was flying was oh so conveniently booked by only one elderly passenger. Molly had been more than dubious at first, but after Martin had repeatedly assured her that he would be able to get her on the flight without a problem the dizzying rush of excitement and adventure had swept her away and she found now as she held his hand and hurried after him like a guilty schoolchild she could not begin to wipe the grin off of her face. This was quite likely the most ridiculous thing she had ever done, and she was loving every second of it. There was a brief moment of danger boarding the plane when they saw that the chronically early businessman who was actually paying for this flight was already on board and situated in his seat, but thankfully he was also chronically sleepy as well and had already fallen into a deep slumber. Molly let out the breath she had been holding since she saw him sitting there, realizing a moment later that she was not only still holding Martin’s hand but had been gripping it tightly in fear. Blood rushed into her face as she looked down at their clasped hands, and her heart nearly skipped a beat when it occurred to her that Martin didn’t seem in any hurry to let go either. With an embarrassed smile he motioned that she should follow him to a seat in the back of the plane where she would hopefully be hidden from discovery. Heart racing, she followed him and sat, staring with an incredulous smile at this wonderful man who in another sudden fit of chivalry helped her into her seat with a bow. “My lady,” he murmured quietly with a bashful grin, eyes locked with hers and her hand still clasped in his. He seemed reluctant to let go, unwilling to lose the electric contact between them that left Molly breathless with wonder and happiness. Finally though he straightened and pulled away, fingers brushing delicately over the pulse point in her wrist and leaving a trail of fire as they went. With a last, quiet smile he turned to walk slowly up the aisle of the plane, leaving a very happy, very confused Molly in his wake to wonder what on earth had just happened to her.
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mirabilelectu:

(Parts 1, 2)

In all of the excitement of suddenly finding herself in the arms of a man who had rescued her from imminent disaster, Molly had completely forgotten about the one potential roadblock to her unexpectedly happy day - to wit, the firmly shut doors of the departure gate that she should have gone through at least ten minutes ago. Giddy joy melted away like the morning dew under a hot sun as she stared at the empty space where her plane had once stood, feeling her heart sink in despair and tears well in her eyes at the thought of her dream vacation that had been ruined before it even began. The last thing she wanted was to start crying in front of the cute pilot who had gallantly insisted on escorting her to her gate with a proffered arm after not only catching her as she fell but helping her retrieve her lost possessions, but honestly the prospect of not even getting to go on her trip to Verona rendered everything else meaningless. 

But before the tears burning in her eyes could spill down her cheeks or her chin could truly begin to wobble from the effort of repressing a sob, a gentle hand touched her hesitantly on the shoulder. With a slight jump she dashed the incriminating evidence from her eyes and turned to look at the man who had introduced himself as Captain Martin Crieff as they had walked over to the gate. His face had flushed an adorable pink as he stumbled slightly over his title, and quickly gone from pink to red along with a surprisingly large smile when she had giggled at his slip and squeezed his arm gently in commiseration. Martin was looking at her now with an expression of sincere regret and worry on his face, almost as though he were afraid that her current predicament was somehow his fault.

“Oh God, I’m so sorry.” The poor man looked almost as upset as she felt, and for some reason she could not name Molly felt a bit of her despair lift at the thought. Apparently bad situations could be made a little less terrible if there was someone there to comfort you instead of make a sarcastic comment or hurtful observation about your weight.

With a deep breath she steadied herself and managed to say in an admirably calm voice, “It’s…it’s not your fault. It’s fine.” That was a blatant lie of course - it certainly wasn’t fine, but there was no way that she was going to let him know that. Molly was many things, but helpless had never been one of them, and she was through letting the men in her life think that about her. “I’ll just figure out how to get to Verona another way. It’s not the end of the world.”

Martin’s eyes went wide, and for a moment Molly was afraid that he had offended him in some way. But before she could ask what she had done wrong he asked in a voice full of wonder “You’re going to Verona?”

And that was how, not twenty minutes later, she found herself walking across the tarmac of the airport in order to be secreted onto a tiny charter plane headed for Rome. The lucky coincidence was almost not to be believed, but Martin had insisted that they were indeed already headed for Rome and that the plane he was flying was oh so conveniently booked by only one elderly passenger. Molly had been more than dubious at first, but after Martin had repeatedly assured her that he would be able to get her on the flight without a problem the dizzying rush of excitement and adventure had swept her away and she found now as she held his hand and hurried after him like a guilty schoolchild she could not begin to wipe the grin off of her face. This was quite likely the most ridiculous thing she had ever done, and she was loving every second of it.

There was a brief moment of danger boarding the plane when they saw that the chronically early businessman who was actually paying for this flight was already on board and situated in his seat, but thankfully he was also chronically sleepy as well and had already fallen into a deep slumber. Molly let out the breath she had been holding since she saw him sitting there, realizing a moment later that she was not only still holding Martin’s hand but had been gripping it tightly in fear. Blood rushed into her face as she looked down at their clasped hands, and her heart nearly skipped a beat when it occurred to her that Martin didn’t seem in any hurry to let go either. With an embarrassed smile he motioned that she should follow him to a seat in the back of the plane where she would hopefully be hidden from discovery. Heart racing, she followed him and sat, staring with an incredulous smile at this wonderful man who in another sudden fit of chivalry helped her into her seat with a bow.

“My lady,” he murmured quietly with a bashful grin, eyes locked with hers and her hand still clasped in his. He seemed reluctant to let go, unwilling to lose the electric contact between them that left Molly breathless with wonder and happiness. Finally though he straightened and pulled away, fingers brushing delicately over the pulse point in her wrist and leaving a trail of fire as they went. With a last, quiet smile he turned to walk slowly up the aisle of the plane, leaving a very happy, very confused Molly in his wake to wonder what on earth had just happened to her.

Source: artbylexie