Weekly Drabble Challenge
May. 31st, 2013 09:16 am![[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)
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.
Your mission, should you choose to accept it: Soft toys. Does Jeeves secretly cuddle a teddy bear during thunderstorms? Did Bertie's velveteen rabbit help after his parents died?
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no subject
Date: 2013-05-31 10:58 pm (UTC)Bit OOC but yeah:
“So that’s it,” I said. “We are ruined.”
“Not ruined, sir,” said Jeeves. “Merely... diminished,” but at the thought of my aunt’s bankruptcy I flung myself into bed and wept, broken-hearted. I heard him leave and return, insensible though I was. At length, something brushed my nose; automatically, I pushed it away.
It was my rabbit.
“Wilberforce!” I yelped, gripping the velveteen bunny as though it were an anchor and I a ship adrift.
Wilberforce’s whiskers tickled me reassuringly.
“Take courage,” said Jeeves. “We may yet secure an arrangement.”
Either way, 'twixt bunny and butler, I would not be alone.
no subject
Date: 2013-06-19 11:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-05-31 11:30 pm (UTC)No-one asks where valets sleep. Few discuss their reading matter. Wooster – sweet, empty-headed Wooster– is a blessed exception.
My room is cold, mattress lumpy, furnishings austeure. I don’t waste his money on my comfort.
At night I sit at the desk and read, awaiting Wooster’s return. The sounds of the empty house speak of the bleakness of life alone.
When the door opens and Bertie totters in, his good-humour fracturing an unfortunate vase, I return my unfinished textbook to Cholmondeley’s paws. Spinoza says that “there is no hope unmingled with fear,” but Cholmondeley can face the future with an equinamity I lack. His stuffing and plush feel neither pain nor loss, whilst I must weather the slings and arrows of Wooster’s misfortune.
My bear’s button-eyes drop to reflect the text. And I? I rise to face the night.
--and now I really have to stop this. This prompt is addictive. And THE PLOTBUNNIES ARE HUNGRY TONIGHT.
no subject
Date: 2013-06-02 02:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-06-20 12:01 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-06-20 01:20 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-06-19 11:04 pm (UTC)Where did you get the name 'Cholmondeley'? It's unusual.
no subject
Date: 2013-06-01 01:29 am (UTC)Also, also, isn't Madeline Bassett just perfect for this prompt? :DD
no subject
Date: 2013-06-01 01:51 am (UTC)*** *** ***
“Donate or dump?” Margaret Pinker-Travers asked, waving a pair of Steif toys in her father-in-laws direction.
“Neither!” Lamont Travers all but pounced. “God.” He clutched the dusty plush to his chest. “Those are by way of being family heirlooms.”
“Stuffed teddies?”
“Christening gifts to my patter from his uncle. Or Uncle and uncle-in-law, although they didn’t *say* back then.” He smoothed a well-chewed ear. “More the second, I’d guess. Trust Jeeves’ to find toys back in the war years.”
His face softened. Lamont was too young to have known the War, but family stories had constructed a sort of memory.
“This is Bertie Bear.” He held out the blond poppet. One embroidered eye had frazzled, lending the bear a confused aspect, as if uncertain of the introduction.
Margaret accepted the toy with care, twitching its bright pink tie back to a perfect bow.
“And this.” The senior Travers passed over the second toy, matching the first save for the black fur. One felt paw had been worked to bits by the child owner and repaired (badly) with amateur stitches of clashing red thread. The glass eyes, however, remained a brilliant, unclouded jet. “This fine specimen of bearhood is Roar-ginald Jeeves.
no subject
Date: 2013-06-02 02:24 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-06-02 03:15 am (UTC)There is a Beezle-Bear heading your way - in a wedding dress. Your days as a Bear-cholor will be numbered if Bear-Jeeves can not save you!
LOL
I adore your image - which has just the most PERFECT Bertie-Bear expression. Thank you so much for sharing your incredible talent. *hugs*
no subject
Date: 2013-06-02 02:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-06-19 11:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-06-02 01:33 pm (UTC)The crowd dispersed after another incident involving a piece of silver, Constable Oates, and one of Madeline’s unfortunate young men friends. “Really, Roderick, I cannot understand why you insist on carrying that bear with you everywhere,” Watkyn Basset frowned. “It makes you look foolish.”
Spode clutched Mr. Kneesies possessively. “I don’t care. I can’t sleep next to you and I won’t sleep alone.”
Watkyn’s face softened. “Thank-you very much for the silk underthings.”
“You didn’t find the lace excessive? I was afraid you might.”
The magistrate blushed. “Perhaps I should try them on and you should tell me.”
“Of course.”
no subject
Date: 2013-06-02 07:10 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-06-02 08:41 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-06-02 08:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-06-19 11:03 pm (UTC)*Sweeps up the mess*
no subject
Date: 2013-06-20 01:14 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-06-02 07:20 pm (UTC)I had intended to keep Mopsy's existence a secret from Mr. Wooster. But when he became so very ill and I could not leave his bedside, I found that I needed something to comfort me. All that time he lay there in a fever too high to recognise me, I held Mopsy in my lap, her floppy velvet ears just brushing the backs of my hands.
When Mr. Wooster woke and asked me who my friend was, I was too relieved to be embarrassed.
"This is Mopsy the rabbit, Mr. Wooster, a friend of mine since birth."
Mr. Wooster smiled.
no subject
Date: 2013-06-16 01:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-06-19 11:07 pm (UTC)(Oh noes, I think my offering is unintentionally similar to yours. Apologies in advance.)
no subject
Date: 2013-06-20 04:53 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-06-20 04:56 am (UTC)XD
no subject
Date: 2013-08-04 03:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-06-19 11:11 pm (UTC)A/N: Apparently the only way this could happen was in more than 100 words, so I bring you a Jeeves and two Bertrams (tsk tsk, get your minds out of the gutter) in 300 words. Triple Drabble Score! \o/
Bertie woke feeling like a juiced orange. He vaguely remembered being poorly and Jeeves shuffling him off to bed, but that was… when exactly? Something fuzzy brushed his chin as he spotted an alarmingly rumpled Jeeves dozing in a chair near the bed. The fuzzy something was a worn, slightly squashed stuffed toy—possibly a bear—and Bertie’s fingers were still curled around a threadbare limb.
“You’re awake at last… sir,” Jeeves murmured hoarsely as he rose and put wonderfully cool fingers to Bertie’s sweaty map.
“What’s this?” Bertie croaked, waggling his new pal’s little arm.
“He was mine as a child,” explained Jeeves as he primly sat on the edge of the bed. “You kept calling for Lucy and wouldn’t rest. I phoned your cousins. They said it was your old stuffed rabbit.”
Rolling his eyes before closing them, blushing like a schoolgirl—feeling rather like one, actually—Bertie covered his face with a heavy hand, groaning.
“You mustn’t feel embarrassed, sir,” insisted Jeeves gently. “You were delirious with fever.” He went on in a slightly brisker tone. “Have some water. I shall make you tea and toast, if you feel up to it, sir.”
Parched as several deserts, Bertie drank all the liquid in the glass and nodded. “Sounds doable, old thing.” Then he simply had to ask, “So? Who’s my new chum, then?”
As Jeeves looked away, Bertie could’ve sworn a wash of colour visited those damask cheeks. “I hesitate to say, sir.”
“Silly name, then? That’s all-right, old fruit, you were a nipper when you named it.” Adding some winsome baby-blues to the mix, Bertie wheedled, “Humour the patient?”
Clearing his throat, Jeeves rose, murmuring, “Bertram… sir,” before shimmering out of the room.
Bertie blinked, and gave his love-worn little visitor a wondering smile. “I say…”
no subject
Date: 2013-06-20 01:17 am (UTC)