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mercyrobot) wrote2009-06-09 11:25 pm
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.
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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.
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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.
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\o/ belated woots!
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;D
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PS: You really should post this at the Kingdom comm as well. It's dying. :c
CONTINUE THIS. Please. Pleeeease.
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*hides in corner nearby and awaits wonderful Jooster fic :D *