lady-feste-pendragon asked: May I have a tiny Traveler!Martin drabble since you're stalling?


You got it! Sorry it took so long. I hope this is ok…I wanted a Martin and Arthur interaction and couldn’t think of much else that woudn’t spoil what I’m writing right now. 

Martin tightens the grip on his drawn-up legs as he hears the sound of rapid footsteps. Unfortunately for him, there aren’t many places to hide around the airfield - he knew he’d be found rather quickly. 

"Martin! Martin are you here?"

He flinches as Arthur’s voice reverberates throughout the empty hangar. Martin hasn’t ever heard Arthur call him by his actual name since he started working here. That means he knows it’s something serious. Very very serious. 

He pushes his face against his knees in shame. Arthur isn’t supposed to be anything but his carefree happy self. And not Martin’s breakdown has caused him unnecessary stress. 

Martin feels a gentle touch to his shin and he raises his head to find Arthur there, watching him with concern. It doesn’t fit on his face - makes him look far older than he has any right to look. 


Martin gives him a weak smile, one that doesn’t go anywhere near his eyes. He knows it’s not at all convincing, but he hopes it’ll help Arthur revert to using his usual nickname.

"I didn’t mean to upset you," Arthur says tentatively, as if the words don’t quite fit. And they don’t. Arthur’s hardly ever upset anyone before; he tries constantly to do quite the opposite. 

Martin wipes his eyes before shoving his head back into the cocoon created by his legs and torso. “You didn’t. It’s just…it’s stupid.”

Arthur doesn’t say anything, and Martin can practically see the gears in his mind turning, the crease in between his eyebrows deepening. Martin was serious about that, though Arthur might not be able to recognize that. Arthur hadn’t upset him - Martin’s stupid, anxiety-filled mind had.

Arthur had come in to the portacabin this morning without his mother, looking uncertain. When Martin - alone behind his desk - had asked what the look was about, he informed them that Snoopadoop was very sick. That, of course, wasn’t Martin’s cause for upset, but rather, it was Arthur’s continued discussion. 

"I really really love Snoopadoop, Skip. Like. Loads and loads. But everyone has to die right?"

At this he’d looked at Martin, waiting for a sympathetic head nod. Martin didn’t respond, instead staring without blinking at his desk as the words filtered through his mind. 

"I just mean. We’ll all die eventually. I’ll die and mom will die and Douglas will die and you will die - though hopefully none of those are soon - but it’s ok because when we’re all gone we can meet up together afterwards."

"You mean-," Martin cleared his throat, "by afterwards you mean after you all die."

"Well yeah, Skip. I’ve heard a lot about the time after death and it’ll be awesome because we can all fly GERTI and she won’t break down because she’ll be brand new and we won’t be low on money because it doesn’t matter about money after you’re dead and-,"

"Oh my god."


"I’m sorry, Arthur, I just. Oh god. I have to go."

Martin groans, pressing his forehead impossibly harder against his legs. Just thinking about it is both embarrassing and horrific. He doesn’t want to think about all of that. He wasn’t supposed to have to think about all of that, not for a long time. And now he’s been hit in the face with it and handled it in the worst way possible. 

It wasn’t Arthur’s fault. Martin is so glad that he’s handling this so well. But, well, it scares him terribly. Perhaps Arthur is right about the afterlife being a real thing and being as wonderful as he says, but Martin will never know.

Worse still, maybe Arthur is wrong and even if Martin had a chance to find out, it would be useless. Once his friends are gone, they’ll only be available in his memories - another set of faces to add to a stupid scrapbook. He wants more time with them. He wants them to be with him forever. He wants to fly and laugh and not worry about the limited time they all have while he’ll have to carry on. 

It’s not fair. None of it. He always does this to himself, but for this reason he feels this desperation more than ever before. These people - MJN - are so much more important to him than anyone else has ever been. They’re a family, something Martin has wanted for millennia, and all too soon they’ll be gone. 

"I’m sorry Martin. I know some people don’t like to talk about that. Mum certainly doesn’t. She made me leave when I tried to earlier."

Martin shrugs, slowly raising his head to peek at his friend. “It’s fine, Arthur.”

"No it’s not. I don’t want you to be sad. If it makes you feel better - I know for a fact that none of us are going to die for a really really long time."

Martin’s mouth comes up in a half smile at Arthur’s ridiculous tactic. “Is that so?”


"And you’re absolutely positive?"

Arthur jumps up, spreading his arms wide. “One hundred percent, Skip!”

Martin wipes his face again and smiles tentatively up at Arthur. “Well that’s good to know. I was worried.”

"I could tell, but it’s ok. Now we’re all better." He stops, glancing back at Martin uncertainly. "Right?"

Martin pushes himself up, engulfing Arthur in a hug. He may not have forever with them, but he has right now, and he intends to make the most of it. “Right,” he whispers.

fractionallyfoxtrot asked: Martin/Douglas - coffee shop!AU but they're both baristas.


"Trying to make me jealous, Sir," Douglas asks, smirking as Martin flushes a deep red, his hands starting to shake nervously while he makes a latte for the pretty young girl at the serving counter.

"I-I-I don’t know what you’re talking about," he splutters, eyes focused far too hard on the coffee in his hand than warranted. 

"Martin, oh Martin - I recognize flirting when I see it."

Martin flinches. “I was not flirting I was merely performing the duties required of a customer service representative, especially those of the manager of the establishment we currently find ourselves in and-,”

Douglas rolls his eyes at Martin’s increasingly formal language. He moves next to Martin, leaning in close and cutting him off with a quick kiss to the area just under his ear - a movement easily hidden by the large cappuccino machine to their right. “My dearest manager needs to learn how to take a joke,” he whispers, grinning when Martin turns an even deeper shade of red. 

douglasrichardsonships asked: Marlas; douglas finds out martin is an alien; please don't make it //too// sad if you can help it


But Gracie! Sad is my middle name! Allie Sad-Whump-Angst-sometimes-fluff…

Also I’m really bad at keeping it down to three sentences so you get a couple more.


"Well," Douglas says, turning away to allow Martin to compose himself, "that was new."

Martin squeezes his eyes shut, berating himself about the fact that he’d allowed such a moment of inattention to happen while he concentrates on returning his eye color to normal.

"Hey," Douglas says, tentatively brushing his hand against Martin’s as the man starts shaking with what Douglas assumes is self-loathing, "listen: that wasn’t the weirdest thing any of my partners have ever done.”

Martin snorts and Douglas smiles. “Ok, it really is the weirdest. But,” he continues, raising an eyebrow, “as you don’t seem to be preparing to eat and/or kill me, I’m going to chalk this down as something we can work through.”

lady-feste-pendragon asked: May I have three sentences of Traveler!Martin please please?


Heck yes you can! This is the perfect chance to write out a little drabble inspired by a post that I can’t find right now about an immortal having walls filled with pictures of their old friends and family. 

Martin shuffles his feet, running his hand through his hair as he looks anywhere but at Douglas, mumbling, “I know, I know - it’s stupid.”

Douglas vigorously shakes his head, unable to do much else besides that as he stares at each album stacked in the small closet in awe. They’re huge - some old and worn, some newer, all filled to the brim with plastic pages, some with papers sticking out from the sides.

"No," he chokes out, "This is-. These are-. Wow, Martin. Incredible."

If any of you are following Last Blood, you should know an update will be posted soon :). Im sorry it’s been so long but I’ve been working hard on it during my free time in Europe.

Also it looks like I have some messages. Idk when those came through but I’ll answer them when I get home. Sorry if they’ve been sitting there for too long - I never got a notification.

Tags: personal

It’s late and I probably shouldn’t be posting this crazy as hell Sherlock Magical Realism/Fantasy AU but…meh. The story is huge and intricate and I don’t think I’ll ever get it all down but I could not get this conversation out of my head, so I’ve written it down. Further description under the cut. 

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Each Sunday, post six sentences from a writing project — published, submitted, in progress, for your cat — whatever.

No, Sherlock Holmes is not a sociopath. Sociopaths kidnap landladies, flatmates, and colleagues for fun. James Moriarty is a sociopath - rather - a psychopath. The need to hurt and destroy, to win is in his very nature: the Carl Powers case should have revealed that to Sherlock without a doubt. It should have instilled in him a greater sense of urgency to catch Moriarty, to end their foolish game - a game Sherlock, with his recently more-opinionated emotions, is not even interested in playing anymore.

But he’s procrastinated; Moriarty has always been there, a constant, unreachable itch at the back of his mind that’s only gotten weaker and less annoying as time has gone on with little to no word from the criminal mastermind. He’s put the problem that is Moriarty on a high, unnoticable shelf within his mind palace for too long, and now this has happened - now he’s facing the consequences.



Support is actually over now! It’s crazy!

I hope you all enjoy this last chapter. It’s been very challenging but very fun writing this, and even more fun seeing peoples’ reactions. Thank you all for reading!


Each Sunday, post six sentences from a writing project — published, submitted, in progress, for your cat — whatever.

They both blink, shocked at the sudden change of scenery. No sooner are they acclimated to their surroundings than Martin cries out, pulling his hand from Douglas’s wrist and cradling it against his chest. He stares at Douglas in surprise, eye widening as he watches him.

Douglas lifts his hand to reach out to Martin, but when he does, he notices its newly acquired translucency. He jumps at the sight, his own eyes widening in confusion and alarm. Martin shouts his name, but before the word is fully out of his mouth, Douglas is gone.


A shorter chapter this time, but things are about to get crazy once more! Hope you all enjoy a bit more fluff until then :)