weekly drabble challenge
Aug. 10th, 2012 05:02 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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indeedsir_backupRules:
1) A drabble is, by definition, a 100-word story therefore all responses should be 100 words exactly, no exceptions.
2) You may also choose to respond to this challenge with a five-minute sketch.
3) PLEASE put the word DRABBLE at the top of your post. That way people can easily spot the drabbles in amongst any reader comments they receive.
RATING: I don't think this should be limited so reader beware that they could be any rating (you could put it in the subject line if you feel it needs it)
PLEASE try to remember to make each drabble a comment in response to the original post. That way, if the comments start to collapse, the drabbles themselves should remain visible.
WIP Amnesty
Time to dust off those old files and lead them gently, carefully, blinking in to the light.
Choose any old stories, sketches or whatever you have - select 100 words or thereabouts (or the rough sketch etc) and post it here. If you want then include a line or two of explanation if you think it needs it and hopefully we can all help you along with turning whatever it is into a completed piece of work :)
Time to dust off those old files and lead them gently, carefully, blinking in to the light.
Choose any old stories, sketches or whatever you have - select 100 words or thereabouts (or the rough sketch etc) and post it here. If you want then include a line or two of explanation if you think it needs it and hopefully we can all help you along with turning whatever it is into a completed piece of work :)
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Date: 2012-08-10 04:51 pm (UTC)[I'm going to have to break the 100 word rule, as there's no way to get it perfect and still keep my excerpts intact. These are actually only a couple of my WIPs, but the rest live on my PC, which is down for the count and awaiting new parts.]
From untitled fic #1, in which Bertie makes a confession
He took a deep breath, as if steeling himself, and blurted out, “Jeeves, I’m one of those upside-down chappies.” He blushed miserably.
Ah. “Do you mean you are an invert, sir?” Despite my speculation of moments ago, I had to school my features to hide my surprise. While I had wondered on the subject early in my employment with Mr Wooster, I had dismissed the notion, and until this morning, had truly believed him content to remain free of romantic entanglements of any nature.
“Yes, that’s the one. Trust the young master to be so mentally negligible as to not know that chaps ought to fancy beazels, not other chaps, eh, Jeeves?”
From untitled fic #2, in which there is a heatwave and undressing is naturally the only solution
"Sir?" he asked, his voice sounding unusually hoarse. My gaze flew to his face as I finally realised what I was doing.
"Sorry, Jeeves, sorry." I babbled. "I don't know what I was thinking. It's this heat, you know, enough to drive a man mad." I could feel my face flaming, and belatedly snatched my hands away from his trousers.
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Date: 2012-08-10 06:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-08-11 05:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-08-12 12:32 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-08-12 03:22 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-08-12 02:15 am (UTC)Would love to see this finished.
I am certainly interested in more of that second one, too!
;D
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Date: 2012-08-12 04:39 am (UTC)Drabble: At theDrones
Date: 2012-08-11 11:50 pm (UTC)"Dash it, Bertie! Look what you made me do," my assailant, proving on closer examination to be Bingo Little holding a badminton racket, said.
"You hit it fair and square," Ronnie Fish called, similarly armed with a badminton racket. "Too square, I'd say. Game and set," he added, saluting Bingo with his racket. "Crusty-roll badminton, Bertie; care for a game?"
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Date: 2012-08-12 02:13 am (UTC)\o/
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Date: 2012-08-13 08:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-08-12 04:37 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-08-13 08:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-08-13 12:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-08-13 08:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-08-12 02:11 am (UTC)(I couldn’t seem to squish this down to 100 words, but I managed 120)
Jeeves was deeply grateful that his master didn’t have a more inquiring nature, nor a more observant one; although, sometimes Bertram surprised him. Jeeves came closer to actual fear than he had in a long time when he heard Bertram sing out in the entry hall. At that moment, Jeeves was lost in a daydream in the master bedroom, a certain half-folded dressing gown in his hands. One might be forgiven much, but no explanation could excuse being physically aroused in his employer’s bedroom—let alone whilst clutching an item of his apparel. Luckily, Jeeves had cultivated firm self-control, and so needed but a few moments to will his body into obedience; fear of his secret being discovered helped immensely.
DRABBLE: #2 Snippet From My As Yet Untitled Jeeves & Wooster/Hot Fuzz Crossover WIP
No doubt you’re wearing some sort of sneery or goggle-eyed expression indicating you think old Wooster has gone off his chump, or is having you on, but I assure you my time machine does work. Reasonably well, actually, if you don’t mind feeling turned a bit inside-out and spun around like a toy boat in a hurricane. However, the most invigorating part of the experience is when it’s stopped and one is staggering out into the fresh air once more with the assurance that one has, astonishingly, survived. Then it’s all laughs and cheers and looking about for familiar landmarks.
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Date: 2012-08-12 03:25 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-08-12 04:36 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-08-12 09:00 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-08-12 03:49 am (UTC)#1 Florence Craye had never experienced sexual pleasure. Agatha Gregson had suffered similarly—her first husband, while admirable in several respects had not been talented in the bedroom—and saw in Florence a kindred soul. Lady Worplesdon could take the liberty of finding a way to correct the problem. After watching Florence slap D’Arcy Cheesewright soundly about the head during a moonlit stroll, Lady Worplesdon knew it was time to act, and not only because D’Arcy, as one of the few people would could induce Bertie Wooster to move with a bit of energy, held a special place in her heart.
#2. A steely look entered the younger woman’s eye. “But, Lady Worplesdon, my husband, most certainly, would never…”
Agatha recalled her first evening with Lord Worplesdon, the abject shame she felt while spasming ecstatically against him calling out his name. He had chuckled fondly and petted her while she nestled against him and mewled like a kitten. Of course, he had known his power over her from that moment. To this day, he had only to pat her bottom and she was helpless to resist him. “It is always wise to be prepared for any eventuality.”
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Date: 2012-08-12 04:34 am (UTC)Although I'm happy to see some Stilton lurching about there, since I adore how you write the Cheesewright.
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Date: 2012-08-12 08:57 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-08-12 04:48 pm (UTC)Eulalie Labs: The Future in Your Armoire
“I say, Jeeves, these fellows have come up with some rather delish-looking undergarments and what-have-you here, what?”
I extended an eager paw to finger the luscious folds of a heliotrope silk number with a single thickness of violet knitting through the crotch. Jeeves grabbed me out of the way. The Wooster mouth had barely opened in indignation and conster-thingummy when the whole thing went off with a nasty “bang!” leaving a charred and scorched dressmaker—er underthingmaker—dummy. Bits of charred silk and knitted wafted around us gently.
“It’s a ‘blasting suit,’ sir,” said Jeeves with a certain far-from-gruntled thingness.
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Date: 2012-08-13 12:18 am (UTC)Exerpt from 'The Last of the Preux Chevalier'
WARNING Apparent character death (WW2 Jeeves/Bertie established relationship)
A moment or two passed then Mrs Travers took a deep breath, seemingly more composed.
“Jeeves, I have no idea how to tell you this. I think you should sit down.”
I very nearly sat down on the carpet in my strange dazed state, until I realised she was indicating I should sit next to her. I moved across the room as if moving through thick treacle, my limbs oddly unwilling to comply, almost as if I felt that were I not to sit next to Mrs Travers then I would not have to face the obvious, abhorrent truth.
“Jeeves.” She said again, taking my hand between her own. It is truly a testament to how completely out of sorts I felt that I didn’t even startle at the impropriety of that action. “Reginald, I am so terribly sorry I have to tell you this-”
A tear tracked its way down Mrs Travers’ cheek but she carried on regardless, her voice hitching slightly as more tears threatened.
“I have received intelligence that Captain Betram Wooster was shot and killed by a group of enemy soldiers yesterday morning just outside the village of Voizin.”
It was at this point that I let out an entirely inappropriate bark of laughter as the icy paralysis which had begun to overwhelm my sense froze my insides completely. I shook my head.
“That simply cannot be the case, madam. He is no longer on active duty- he is coming home, he wrote to me and said- he said he would be home and promised-”
Notes: This is probably going to end up about a 20,000 word long fic written in Jeeves's P.O.V. I'm a sap, so don't worry too much... would people be interested in reading this?
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Date: 2012-08-13 10:35 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-08-13 12:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-08-18 07:08 am (UTC)It is very compelling so far.
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Date: 2012-08-13 12:37 am (UTC)Okay, I honestly don't remember what this was about or where I was going with it, but here goes. I had not (and still have not) really figured out how to draw Jeeves, really.
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Date: 2012-08-13 12:44 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-08-18 06:31 am (UTC)