Has anybody else noticed that Benedict Cumberbatch reminding everyone that he did the motion capture is starting to sound like Martin Crieff reminding everyone he’s the captain?
In the unlikely event of actor non-recognition, actor doffs cap and gestures to motion capture dots.
this is the standard amount of gold they put in a dwarf kingdom…
I AM THE SUPREME COMMANDER OF THIS DRAGON
*starts x-raying hobbits to find out which one swallowed the One Ring*
I love everyone in this shire’s air-dot!
the tentacles inch their way under his pants as he lay on his side, tickling under his balls and stroking along the crack of his ass. Martin felt his cock give a half-hearted throb and sighed, pushing back slightly into the motion. 'Just, just give me a moment to rest,' he muttered into the pillow. 'There's... humans... refractory... oh god, there, please there' --- when Martin came down to breakfast the next morning, there was a smile on his face and a hitch in his step and Arthur just beamed
YES!!! Now I’ll have to post the last set and this set together, in order!
Let me know if that’s okay with you, Anon?
*shiny happy dancing*
Martin slumped down onto the mattress, panting for air, his body covered in sweat and the slick of the tentacles, his pants soaked with come. The tentacles continued to hold him loosely, gently moving as his breath slowed and he came back to himself. Martin groaned, blushing, uncertain what to do now and feeling his muscles ache. Martin rolled to the side, the tentacles sliding along his skin as he moved, making Martin shiver. Martin lay on his side, too tired to get up, when he felt the -
caressing his balls, pressing along his cock more firmly. Martin moaned lowly, thrashing his head back and forth as he tried vainly to move his hips, to get friction, faster, more. The feeling of being held down, the heat and touch of the tentacles every where, the scent of his own musk, Martin felt his body tighten and one last jerky thrust up, one last squeeze over his whole body - Martin came, screaming. The tentacles continued to constrict and caress through his orgasm, drawing it out -
restricting. Martin felt overwhelmed, moaning and panting, twisting in the tentacles' grip, trying to get as much sensation as he could. Martin's cock was already hard and dripping, his pants sticking to him from the mixture of precome and slickness from the tentacles, rutting up into their mass, his inability to move as much as he craved a delicious tease. The tentacles holding his ankles slowly pulled his legs apart as the ones covering his groin began to move faster and lower, caressing-
Martin shuddered and moaned, anticipating something. Anything. Why weren't they moving? Martin writhed, his motion limited by the tentacles but they finally reacted, curling and spiraling around him, caressing his skin. Martin gasped and one of the tentacles touched his face, rubbing along his cheeks, his lips, a faint residue leaving his face tingling and hot. The tentacles didn't try to penetrate, at least not yet, they just rubbed all over, all at once. Heat and pressure and deliciously-
(con't, on anon because it's more fun this way) his ankle. It was warm. So warm, a bit slick, holding his ankle still. Then there was another one, on his thigh and another and another. Soon there were tentacles holding down onto his legs, arms, and across his stomach. They weren't moving really, just a slight rhythmic squeezing. They weren't doing anything overt, not yet. Martin began to feel his skin tingle. The tingling spread out from the tentacles to the rest of his body. He shuddered-
(You anon your socks off, m’friend! I am grinning fit to split my face!) \o/
(dubious consent, tentacle sex) - Martin lay in the dark, waiting anxiously, trying unsuccessfully not to fret. /It's completely possible that this tentacle thing of Arthur's was a figment of his imagination, a bit of underdone potato with a kinky side. At least I hope it is. Of all the indignities I've suffered being stood up by a tentacle beast-/ Martin heard something move in the dark. There was a sensation of something making the bed move and then he felt something wrap itself around his-
Cabin Pressure Fic: At The Après Noel Party
This is for Mydwynter's “Longest Week Drabble Fest" - though I’m pretty sure no one’s surprised I didn’t do a proper ‘drabble’ of 100 words? No, didn’t think so. Though most are doing Sherlockian fics, the first thing that popped into my head was something from the Cabin Pressure ‘verse. So, here we are.
Title: At The Après Noel Party
Fandom: Cabin Pressure
Rating: G (yes, srsly, G)
Characters: Martin Crieff, Arthur Shappey, (Reference to Martin Crieff/Princess Theresa & Carolyn Knapp-Shappey/Herc Shipwright)
Summary: Martin’s having some kind of problem and Arthur’s determined to help.
[AO3] & [LJ]
Arthur found Martin sitting out back on the big stone mushroom next to the sandbox; the fairy lights still up on the house throwing a faint, sparkling dance of colour across the snow-dusted landscape, barely reaching Martin’s spot at the bottom of the garden. The sound of the music, along with the voices of the people inside talking and laughing, was just faint enough that the garden seemed almost like another world. Even though it was three days after Christmas, everyone seemed to be enjoying the ‘Après Noel’ party—dubbed that by Douglas—and Arthur, himself, had been having so much fun being the Party Steward he’d almost missed seeing Martin slip out the back door.
After dusting off its little mound of collected snow, Arthur sat on the slightly shorter, wider mushroom next to Martin’s. Up until Arthur was nine, there had been six stone mushrooms in a rough circle around a little ornamental fish pond Arthur had adored, until Arthur’s dad had taken a sledge hammer to the other mushrooms—Mum had stopped him before he’d got the last two—but she hadn’t been home when Gordon had the pond filled in and turned into a sandbox. Although Arthur had really enjoyed the sandbox, he’d liked the pond better. Still, that was a memory so old and worn that Arthur hardly even thought about it when he joined Martin in sitting on the second of the last two mushrooms. “Why’re you sitting out here in the cold, Skip?”
“Just needed some air,” Martin replied with a shrug, tilting his head back toward the house. “Go on back in and have fun, Arthur. I’ll be back inside shortly.”
“Skip,” Arthur said tentatively, scuffing the tips of his new-for-Christmas-hiking-boots into little patterns in the thin snow. “You remember that course I took on understanding people?”
Martin sighed, rolling his eyes a little, and pulled one hand out of his jacket pocket to pat Arthur’s nearest knee. “I know, Arthur. Yes, my behaviour means I’m a little unhappy, but it’s nothing you or anybody else did wrong, okay?”
“Then what is it?” Arthur asked after a few moments, having worked out that, just because no one did anything wrong, didn’t mean there wasn’t still a problem of some kind—Martin would be inside still enjoying the party, otherwise.
Shaking his head, Martin let out a long sigh, his breath making a plume of mist that the twinkling glow of the fairy lights turned into something almost magical.
REC: On the Importance of Timing
Cabin Pressure slash is new to me, and if it’s new to you I’m going to go right ahead and offer you two words: Lockheed_London. Read Lockheed_London.
The above story for example, for which this is lovely artwork…
Next is Martin’s shoulder blade, hard under the warm cotton of his T-shirt, and Douglas nuzzles it, lets his mouth shape I love you noiselessly against it. (On the Importance of Timing)
Lockheed_London is, indeed, a CP ficcer of awesomeness, and MXDP is a fanartist of equal and - obvious - complementary awesomeness! I highly recommend both of them! \o/
Thank you for flying MJN Air.