mercyrobot | It's a post. A posty post.

Current Mood: cranky

Entry tags:

It's a post. A posty post.

0. Mostly, I wanted to show off this icon I made. *points*

1. Writer's block like whoa. I get like one sentence out and get distracted by something shiny. My brain's doing something that goes a little bit like Trek! Jooster! Joostertrek! No, wait! Fireflytrek! TorchJooster! Ianto is Jeeves and they're on the Enterprise and run into Serenity! And what about that thing where Jeeves had a secret wife? Ducky? Ducky who? ARGFARGLEVALETSPACE. Yeah. That's what my head sounds like on the indoors.

2. KINGDOM. Was great. Is great. Is being great. Oh Lyle. *looks at watch* Hey, next week! Get here with new ep plz. When does Peter get a boyfriend? Wishful thinking, I know.

3. Well, it would be a pretty lame list if it only had two things on it.....

Um. Make me write porn. Prompts. Issue them now. Maybe with word count limits.

ETA 6/10: I am exhausted and falling asleep. Ficlettings to continue on the morrow.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

500 words of jeeves and bertie talking to river aboard serenity. go! ;D

Done and done! Totally not porn, but words is words. ;)

"Specific dream rabbit," River says, looking straight through Bertie.

Bertie squirms under the penetrating gaze, wondering if the girl's got some aunt in her or if she's just stark-raving.

One of Jeeves's eyebrows climbs towards a less-than-usually kempt hairline.

"You're his, he's yours," she says back and forth between them, as though speaking to excessively dim children. She shakes her head in a lord-what-fools sort of way. She captures a surprised Bertie's hand and starts to a song there's no way she can know.

Dashed unnerving, Bertie thinks later, once Simon's explained, to have someone learn the fox-trot straight out of one's head. But he does his due diligence and dances with her, never one to refuse a lady. He nearly (only nearly) trips over his own feet when River pirouettes round and round and twirls him straight into Jeeves, still singing high and mad and haunting but my baby don't want nobody but me.

Jeeves looks approbrious, his every thread proclaiming that such things are Not Done, but they are in space, on a spaceship, and Bertie's sheepish smile is no less effective for it as he shrugs his 'what's a chap to do' and holds out his hands. As Bertie was once told, the man swings a dashed efficient shoe. There's no discussion about who will lead but it's Jeeves that does, and it doesn't feel as off as it should.

Jeeves excuses himself stiffly as soon as River stops singing.

She giggles at his retreating back.

"What on earth is so funny?" Bertie asks, piqued.

River giggles and giggles. "Nature's bachelor," she croaks out at last, smirking to win a pageant.

"Chow!" Kaylee calls before Bertie can formulate a response.

Meals are his least favourite time. Bertie has the vague sense that Mal and Jayne might shoot him at any moment, and that if he's too chummy with Kaylee they'll be having one of those weddings captains can perform, and speaking of auntly personages, Zoe shares not a few traits with several of them. Simon and Wash he likes; Wash is the sort of chap it's impossible not to like, and Simon's the sort of chap he's used to running across. Book seems nearly as put out as Bertie is that Jeeves isn't making an appearance for dinner.

Inara is nothing short of terrifying, for some reason especially so when she loads up a tray and says, "I'll take this up to Jeeves. He must be hungry."

Bertie startles from his chair. "No!" he exclaims as it slaps to the floor behind him. "Erm. That is-- I mean to say-- you being a lady and all. I ought to do it."

He meets with no protest, and more than one knowing female smile as he takes the tray and stumbles his way through railings and decks.

Jeeves answers his knock in that funny Chinese they speak that sounds like a toast to Bertie's ears. He shoves the door aside with his foot to find Jeeves in his shirtsleeves, rising from the small bed.

"You should not have troubled yourself, sir," Jeeves says, using that kindly tone he takes on when Bertie's done something especially daft. "I find myself not particularly hungry."

Bertie sets the tray down on the bedside table, thinking with a pang of London and breakfast trays and sunshine. "Was dancing with me as bad as all that?" he asks, very interested in the floor.

"No, sir."

Bertie jerks his head up and wonders how he could have missed this before.

You should write about Peter getting a boyfriend :p I don't know about length limits.

What would happen if you crossed Capt. Jack from Torchwood & Mal from Firefly? After the snark fest would there be porn? Explore.

Good Gawdz, what would happen if you crossed Jeeves & Ianto? Preparing the perfect tea could totally be foreplay for these two.

Top of my head, late and half asleep, but still willing to fling prompts.

\o/ heeeee!

Oh dear. You have writers block? Hope that goes away soon. I'm still waiting for that 'Bertie's nephew and lost Jeeves' thing.

The inside of your head sound pretty interesting. LOL.

Sulu and Toshiko on a blind date (no doubt their friends were well-meaning)

or River and Spock having an argument

I agree. The inside of your head needs careful examination simply because it's so interesting. Cool job on your little ficlet there.

*agrees*

OH! I meant to say: OMG! LOVE YOUR ICON!!!!!!

I have no idea where this came from. Beatrice elbowed her way in. Still not porn.

Oh, um, and series 3 spoilers are hinted at kinda.

***

Beatrice continues to take it extremely personally that Peter would not find her a nice soldier to take to bed. It's the story of her life, isn't it, 'no, you can't, Beatrice,' and 'soldiers are not material objects, Beatrice.'

The problem, she decides, is that Peter has not had a good hard shag since probably sometime during the Thatcher government and has forgotten what it's like to enjoy himself. Not that she wants to think of her brother enjoying himself, but she's very good at not-thinking about things, even while causing them.

Except causing them turns out to be harder than she thought.

"What do you think you're doing?" Gloria asks as the third woman Beatrice has paraded in here leaves without Peter ever having registered that she's got tits.

"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm--"

Peter comes out of his office, pinching the bridge of his nose. "It's very sweet of you, Beatrice, to try to find a date for Lyle, but I do wish you wouldn't send them round during working hours with flimsy cases. I'd like to get some use out of my junior partner, hmm?"

Petra starts screeching-- that's my girl!-- and Beatrice legs it.

Peter had a point, Beatrice thinks-- the young, fit women really were more Lyle's type. The shagging-over-the-desk type. Peter's more the dinner-and-a-show type. If he is a type, or has one. Simon would have known. Maybe.

She thinks she remembers something about a Leslie or a Laura in the Cambridge days. Not from Peter, of course. From overhearing Simon. Beatrice hauls Petra into the attic along with her and starts digging. There's nothing actually useful, just stupid hats and old essays scrawled over with just-short-of-glowing remarks.

Then it does get interesting, all in very quick succession. Beatrice finds a biscuit tin wrapped in a blue jumper. Petra begins to cry, startling Beatrice into dropping it. The tin crashes to the floor, spilling out letters and seashells and a photo of the jumper's owner, a smirking man with eyes the same colour. Beatrice registers what it is about the time Peter thuds in with a cut off, "Beatrice, what--"

They stare at each other across it. Peter doesn't look angry, at least. Petra's still wailing. Beatrice picks her up and rocks her and she keeps wailing. The wailing is different than the screeching. Screeching is for attention; wailing is for some need or other but aside from when nappies need changing Beatrice hasn't worked out what need the wailing is for. "What happened to him?" she asked. He must have died horribly and tragically, in the Falklands, maybe, or a car crash. A boating accident?

"He got married," Peter says. Nearly worse. "I didn't know that was still up here."

"Why didn't you tell me? You never tell me anything!" Beatrice snaps, and it stops Petra crying, at least.

"I honestly haven't thought about him in years, Beatrice."

"What about someone else?"

"Oh, yes. I think about you, and the baby, and Simon quite a lot--"

"Peter."

"No. Not in a long time."

"Why not?"

"Have you visited Market Shipborough?" Peter makes an expansive gesture. He has a point.

"Maybe Mr. Rowing Blues isn't married anymore," she says, waving the photo temptingly. "Go find him."

"Oh, don't be ridic--"

Beatrice smiles. "Just look him up." Somehow she's forgotten all about the soldiers.

I love it love it LOVE it xD
Nevermind about any other fic, you must continue thiiiis. Peter needs some loving.

I adore how you write the characters, Beatrice was perfect, Peter, too. It would make such an awesome episode, Beatrice would soon have handsome men parading all over the place trying to get Peter's attention.

Oyyy, hey now miss grabby pants. You can't have both! Pick one! ;)

Bertie and Jim keep getting accidentally engaged to aliens; Jeeves and McCoy have to constantly rescue them and patch them up.

Edited 2009-06-10 20:08 (UTC)

I think the operative words here are 'head' and 'needs' and 'examination.' :P

Thanks!

Awwwwwww! *pout* I was gonna let you decide (secretly hoping you couldn't either and would do both *greedy grin*)

Well, I had to flip a coin to choose, and I'd like to see what you can do with Jeeves & Ianto, pretty please, ma'am!
:D

I have flagged this space as being obviously full of win.

PCO. (please carry on)

Er, and by flag I mean clicked track to follow this post like the creepy stalker I am.

Oh. And porny request?

500 words-ish. Bertie/Jeeves. Surprise piano-sex. At the Drones or at the flat, your choice.

Or at the Junior Ganymede?

Er, this is short and wonky, sorry. :P

Ridiculously awkward covers it fairly well. It was fine, even really quite nice, until Uhura dragged Spock away to parts unknown, followed by Scotty suddenly remembering some piece of equipment he needed to beam back up to turn off.

Sulu blinks. "I think we've been set up, Sato."

That's who she is now, Lieutenant Sato. The brilliant programmer in the short uniform. At least she's still brilliant here. At first Starfleet was a way to get access to tech and codes and give herself the best chance of running into someone, anyone who could help her. Now it's more the end than the means; like the uniform, she got used to it. She's content, in a way.

Though not just now. Sulu doesn't seem to want to be on a surprise date any more than she does, fortunately. "I had no idea they were planning that," she says. "I'm sorry."

His relief couldn't be more obvious. "Then you don't--?"

"No." Tosh smiles ruefully to show she's not insulted. "It's my fault, I think," she says. "I mentioned to Nyota that I haven't been on a date in three hundred years." It's a bit of a game sometimes, to tell the complete truth and watch it be laughed at as hyperbole.

Sulu laughs. "You look good for your age." He stands up and claps his hands once. "Well, we don't have to be on a date, but there's nothing that says we can't enjoy our last few hours of leave."

They play pool and Toshiko finally tries hypervodka. By the end of it she's pleasantly woozy and telling Torchwood stories, not that she mentions Torchwood by name. She does mention Owen, though, and Jack and Ianto and Gwen. She'll always miss them, but every day buries them a little further.

Yes, or that. XD Basically....PIANO SEX, DAMMIT

not sure what wonky is, but this was fantastic. thank you!

>hyperbole
*hugs Tosh*

at least they didn't lock you up, Tosh; there's that, I suppose.

I have no idea about this. O_o Sorry if it's not what you envisioned!

They dance around it for a month with hints and glances before either of them makes a move, and when they finally do fall into bed, it simply happens. No discussion, no questions. Just Jeeves turning up at the tiny flat where Ianto's waiting out the months until he will meet this era's Jack Harkness in a bar, hand him a device, and wipe his memory. After that he'll cross whatever bridges come: wondering if he's done it right, wondering when or if the Doctor will come back for him.

This is practical. A trustworthy partner in this day and age isn't easy to find. And it's good, better than good, but there are no illusions. Neither set of eyes is quite the right shade of blue, neither body quite the right shape. They close their eyes and make do.

The fourth week (Jeeves comes on his nights off) they're lying in sweat and twisted sheets, Ianto smoking his first cigarette since university and curled into Jeeves's side. It felt different this time, somehow. Perhaps he's getting used to it. "Jack will laugh his arse off when he hears about this." If he makes it back to tell the tale, he doesn't say.

"Captain Harkness always did have a most singular sense of humour," Jeeves says with a wry twist to his lip. He's very easy on the eyes normally, but flushed and relaxed like this he's simply gorgeous.

Ianto reaches over and smooths an errant lock of dark hair off Jeeves's forehead. "Still does."

Jeeves catches Ianto's hand and presses his lips to the backs of the knuckles, then plucks the cigarette from his lips and takes a puff himself before putting it out. Jeeves kisses him softly, tasting of sex and tobacco and the coffee Ianto still bothers to make when he comes round, though it's been two weeks since they've drunk more than a sip or two. It isn't going anywhere; they're still both too spent. But it's nice.

"Your Mr Wooster is an idiot," Ianto declares, trailing his fingers through the line of coarse hairs below Jeeves's navel.

"He is a good man," Jeeves says rather sharply, tensing.

"Shh. I only meant he doesn't know what he's missing."

"It is kind of you to say so, Ianto."

"It's the truth." And without knowing why, he adds, "You know, if it's really that hopeless, you could come back with me."

Jeeves shakes his head. "My place is here."

Ianto understands.

"Jeeves shakes his head. "My place is here."

Ianto understands."

I'm not even that familiar with Torchwood and this still makes all kinds of sexy sense. Good show.

Sexy sense, I like that. :D Thanks!

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Page 1 of 3

It's a post. A posty post.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject