mirabilelectu:

She was going to fail the exam.

There was no doubt about it, not anymore. There was absolutely no doubt left in Molly’s mind that she was going to do so poorly on her Biology exam that she would probably fail out of her course, and possibly out of university altogether. How could she not? It was the night before the exam, or quite possibly the morning of the exam at this point, and the cramped words of Molly’s notes were swimming before her eyes and making absolutely no sense whatsoever. Sentences were bleeding together, familiar terms no longer made sense, hell, by now she had probably forgotten basic facts she had learned years ago. Mitosis? What was mitosis again?

Oh no oh no oh no, there’s no way I can learn this all in time. I’m not ready, I’ll never be ready, oh God this is what failure feels like - 

Her mental spiral of panic and self doubt was brought to an abrupt halt however by a ringing crash that echoed hugely through the darkened corners of the library’s 24 hour study room. Molly nearly fell out of her chair in surprised panic, scrabbling at the table to stay upright despite the hammering of her heart and casting about the room wildly to see what could have possibly made such a clamor. Up until the moment that the peaceful silence had been shattered Molly had been quite sure that she was alone in the study room, all the other students having gone safely and sensibly to their beds hours ago. But apparently not, not if the fervent swearing coming from the doorway or the shuffling of books being hastily shoved back in a bag were anything to go by. Whirling around in the hard wooden chair that had been her home for the last several hours, Molly caught a glimpse of bright red hair as a figure knelt on the ground and angrily attempted to shove far too many fat textbooks back into a bag that had ripped wide open under the strain.

“Oh bollocks this is just what I need, this is great, just absolutely bloody great, I can’t believe this is happening that was my only bag, oh damn -“

“Um, hello?” Molly called out uncertainly, not sure whether the boy in the doorway knew that there was someone sitting in the room he had just disturbed so spectacularly. “Are you alright?”

Judging by the jump from the boy when she spoke, the wide eyes he flashed in her direction, and the brilliant crimson that flooded his face, he had in fact not known that she was present. In fact, he looked absolutely horrified to see Molly sitting there, and he nearly fell flat on the ground in his attempt to shrink out of the room while still kneeling on the ground. “Oh my God I’m so sorry, I didn’t know you were here. Oh this is so…sorry. I’m just really sorry, but my bag broke and everything fell, sorry. I’ll go. I’ll just go, I’m bothering you, sorry.”

The poor boy looked about ready to choke on his own tongue he was stammering so badly, and his attempts to gather up his books and shove them back in his bag had somehow gotten even more fruitless thanks to his fumbling hands, a feat that Molly had not thought possible. Without realizing what she was doing, Molly found herself rising from the prison of her chair and crossing the room to where he was kneeling, and in moments found herself kneeling next to him and reaching for the book closest to her.

“Oh please don’t worry about it, really. I needed the break anyway, I think my eyes were about to fall out of my head. You know it’s bad when you can’t even read English words anymore, much less the sciency stuff.” Her reassuring tone seemed to calm the boy slightly, and the smile she sent him as she handed him the astoundingly fat textbook even earned a slight grin in return. “So, what’re you here for? I’ve got a bio exam tomorrow myself, and I’m 90% certain I’m going to fail.”

“Electrical engineering,” he answered bitterly. Well, that explained the enormous books, as well as the early morning study hours - not to mention the tinge of frantic desperation that was in his every movement. “I’m 100% sure I’m going to fail. I’m not even close to ready, the exam is tomorrow, and I can’t even study at home because my roommate is making so much noise. God, I hate this.”

Molly nodded in sympathy. “I know exactly what you mean. Why do we do this to ourselves anyway?”

“Buggered if I know. I don’t even want to do this stupid major, but my dad was absolutely insistent that I do something practical while I was here, so here I am.”

The poor boy looked absolutely miserable, and Molly could feel the despair at her own situation ebbing away ever so slightly. Sure, she might be bogged down in her course and worried about her grade, but at least she enjoyed what she was doing. She loved science, loved it with a ferocity that made the pain of her degree worthwhile and kept her going even in the darkest of times. But to hate what she was studying? To be forced into it by an overbearing parent? Unthinkable.

Catching the boy’s eye, Molly handed him the last textbook with another smile. “Why don’t you come over to my table and study with me? We might be miserable and awake when no human beings should be, but it might be a little less horrible with another person there to suffer with. I’m Molly, by the way.”

“Martin. I’m Martin.” He blinked in surprise, apparently caught entirely off guard by Molly’s question. But he returned her smile tentatively, some of the panic draining from his face as he stood and offered an unladen hand to help her to her feet. “I’d love to study with you. Who knows, I might even enjoy being up this late now.”

If the slight shiver that ran through Molly as she took his hand was anything to go by, she just might as well.

Quickie sketch! I can’t handle their faces.

Blindspot

mirabilelectu:

Martin had never liked mirrors.

It wasn’t difficult to guess why, really. What possible reason could he have for liking them, when all they ever showed him was the rather pathetic image of his own face looking forlornly back at itself? Too many hours as a teenager spent staring into a bathroom mirror had well acquainted him with the process of picking apart flaw after flaw, moving from freckles to uneven skin to a funny nose to ridiculous hair in endless repetition. He hated it, hated the feeling of despair and engulfing helplessness that came from that cycle of contemplation and revulsion that echoed with schoolyard taunts and giggles as sharp as knives. No, Martin bore no love for mirrors whatsoever.

And besides, what use did he have of mirrors now? It wasn’t as though he had much space in his flat for anything more than the small hand mirror he used to check that his hair wasn’t sticking up in the back before rushing out the door, and any other occasion to use such a thing certainly never presented itself. His life was fixed routine: sleep, van job, flight, flight, van job, sleep again when he had the time. A large mirror would have done little but gather dust in the limited space that was available in the attic, would have only served to reflect things that Martin much preferred to forget as best he could. He didn’t need a reminder of just what his life looked like in the form of a perfect reflection, he had enough of that on a daily basis.

But in Molly’s flat, it felt as though mirrors were inescapable. There was the mirrored key hook just inside the flat door, the scrolled mirror over her mantle, the decorative sunburst mirror in the sitting room, the floor length mirror in her bedroom. Everywhere Martin turned, he caught glimpses of himself that made him cringe. But he swallowed his distaste, because even if he hated constantly seeing himself reflected in Molly’s flat, it was a tiny price to pay for actually being in Molly’s flat. He could live with his mirrored selves as long as they were sitting wrapped up with the most beautiful woman in the world on her couch, talking and laughing over nothing in particular as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Silence had fallen, as it so often did between them, the comfortable and happy silence that Martin still could not quite believe was possible instead of the tortured agony of awkward pauses and horrified surprise. They were happy like this, sharing the quiet, perfectly happy to simply sit and occasionally look at each other with a small laugh. In fact, Molly had been looking at him steadily for the last few minutes, a small smile on her face and a glow in her eyes that could not be accounted for by anything that had happened recently.

“What is it?” Martin finally asked, curiosity overcoming his happiness and reluctance to break the quiet.

“Oh it’s just…it’s silly,” Molly said with a laugh. But when Martin poked her in the side with raised eyebrows and a meaningful look, she sighed slightly and continued, “It’s nothing, it’s just that I love looking at your freckles.”

“My – my freckles?” Martin stammered, caught entirely off guard. “Why would you like my freckles?”

Molly giggled and reached over to tweak his nose gently. “Well because I like everything about you, silly. And I especially like your freckles, and looking at them, and looking at you in general. I can’t get enough of it.”

Martin gaped at her. She enjoyed looking at him? And she enjoyed looking at those ridiculous splotches on his face that had been the source of endless childhood torment, the unmistakable stamp of “ginger” branded across his nose and cheeks with damning permanence? If Martin had his way he would have bleached those damn freckles off his face years ago, but it seemed that Molly liked them. And she liked looking at them – looking at him, a thought that he simply could not fathom. What could she see there that warranted more looking?

Perhaps…perhaps Martin would have to give this whole “mirror” thing another go to find out.

have a quickie sketch to go with this. 

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

mirabilelectu:

This evening had been perfect.

Well, almost.

It had started off beautifully at least. Molly could not have asked for a better end to her work day, nor a surprise that she would more excited to receive than to have her long-distance boyfriend show up unexpectedly in her office with flowers in his hand and a smile on his face to whisk her off on an impromptu date. She had not even known that Martin was going to be in London for another several weeks, but apparently neither had he until this morning when their flight had been re-routed and he decided to surprise her on the spur of the moment. And what a wonderful surprise it was, so good in fact that she had nearly knocked her desk over in her mad scramble to run over and throw herself into his arms for a hug.

The feeling of having his arms wrapped around her again was wonderful beyond words, and one that she had not felt in far longer than she cared to remember as she melted into his embrace. Their relationship had never been anything resembling easy or typical, living so far apart as to nearly be worlds away and dealing with prolonged separations thanks to Martin’s job that really did take him worlds away from her. Early relationships were difficult enough to manage even when they did not have to be carried out entirely though text messages and emails with only a few dates in between to tide them over, but somehow through determination and a steadfast desire to just make this work, Martin and Molly had muddled through. For almost five months now, they had been growing closer despite the distance between them, and now tonight they were reunited for the first time in weeks and things were shaping up to be magical.

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This was done for the cottoncandy_bingo prompt: firsts. 

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!

Just A Glance Away

mirabilelectu:

The stars shone glittering and brilliant in a sky that was free of bombs.

It was a miracle, or at least it seemed that way to the people of London who had feared that they would never escape the constant threat of bombardment that had hung over their city for the last four years. For many, they had forgotten what it was like to live in a city that was not reduced to rubble, to sleep through a night without the fear of air raids, to not constantly be checking the sky to see whether or not a German plane had slipped through the lines to rain death and destruction down upon them. Terror had become the watchword of London throughout the war, and now that it was over and life could slowly be patched back together once more, the people as one could breathe out the sigh of relief they had been holding in for far too long.

But first, before normality could begin to work its way back into the streets of London, there was a bit of celebrating to do. They had won, they had beaten back the Nazi menace that had seemed so sure to sweep over the entire world with its unstoppable might and unthinking hatred. For so long it had appeared as though even Britain, even the shining beacon of hope and strength that they all had thought never to fall, would be brought down by the German war machine and crumble into nothingness. But all of the struggle, all of the sacrifice, all of the countless loss and death and destruction had all been worth it for this victory. And so, before the tedious business of rebuilding and restarting could truly get underway, the survivors and the victors could indulge themselves in some well-earned revelry. 

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now with art!

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
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: 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.

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mirabilelectu: “Alright, careful now, there’s a bit of a step here.” A soft giggle echoed through the darkened house, quickly muffled by a hand clapped over the offending mouth of the indistinct figure that had uttered it. The two figures froze in the middle of the sitting room, hands clasped together and bodies held in absolute concentration as they listened intently for signs that they had been discovered. Thankfully they were answered only by silence, and after a moment of tense alertness they both relaxed slightly and began to creep towards the stairs once more. The taller figure was leading the way, guiding the smaller through the darkness by the hand and relying on memory alone to get them to safety. The house was nearly pitch black at this time of the night, the occupants either sound asleep or safely ensconced in their rooms, and the man picking his way with utmost care through the room had absolutely no desire to disturb them. “Ok, we’re just about to the stairs now” Martin whispered as quietly as he could manage in Molly’s ear, hoping that she would be able to contain her giggles this time. They had stayed out at the pub for far longer than he had intended, caught up in talk and laughter and the joy of finally seeing each other again after three long weeks apart. It was Molly’s first time in Fitton, and she had managed to scrape together enough vacation days to come and stay for nearly an entire week. Now, with the buzz of just enough alcohol to make them delightfully tipsy and the electric promise of what was to come singing in their veins, Martin felt at once both wonderfully alive and absolutely terrified of being caught. Read more
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mirabilelectu:

“Alright, careful now, there’s a bit of a step here.”

A soft giggle echoed through the darkened house, quickly muffled by a hand clapped over the offending mouth of the indistinct figure that had uttered it. The two figures froze in the middle of the sitting room, hands clasped together and bodies held in absolute concentration as they listened intently for signs that they had been discovered. Thankfully they were answered only by silence, and after a moment of tense alertness they both relaxed slightly and began to creep towards the stairs once more. The taller figure was leading the way, guiding the smaller through the darkness by the hand and relying on memory alone to get them to safety. The house was nearly pitch black at this time of the night, the occupants either sound asleep or safely ensconced in their rooms, and the man picking his way with utmost care through the room had absolutely no desire to disturb them.

“Ok, we’re just about to the stairs now” Martin whispered as quietly as he could manage in Molly’s ear, hoping that she would be able to contain her giggles this time. They had stayed out at the pub for far longer than he had intended, caught up in talk and laughter and the joy of finally seeing each other again after three long weeks apart. It was Molly’s first time in Fitton, and she had managed to scrape together enough vacation days to come and stay for nearly an entire week. Now, with the buzz of just enough alcohol to make them delightfully tipsy and the electric promise of what was to come singing in their veins, Martin felt at once both wonderfully alive and absolutely terrified of being caught.

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I shouldn’t be allowed to read fic while wearing makeup: a True Story

Oh look, there’s a new chapter! 

HOORAY!

.

.

.

Wait. What’s happening here?

OHMYGOD!!!!

OH GOD.

OH GODDDDD. MY EYES! THEY BURN!!! DAMN YOU STORY! DAMN MASCARA!!!!!!


THE END.

unless I’m beta reading.

Because then additionally to that: “Oh, btw, I think you missed an apostrophe here.”

Mirabile Lectu: Title: Breathing’s Just A Rhythm (Chapter 9/12)Author:...

mirabilelectu:

Title: Breathing’s Just A Rhythm (Chapter 9/12)

Author: MirabileLectu

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Drama, Crossover (Cabin Pressure/Sherlock)

Warnings: Attempted Suicide

Summary: After failing his CPL exam for the fifth time, Martin is ready to give up. But a young doctor is determined to help him put his life back together and refuses to give up on him.

Chapter Summary: In the long and illustrious history of Bad Ideas, this had quite likely been the worst. And for Martin, that was really saying something.

(Chapters 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8)