Weekly Drabble Challenge (have you snuggled your Jeeves today?)

[lawnnun.livejournal.com]

Rules:
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.

This week: Some frantic emotional hurt/comfort where Jeeves is the one who is desperately insecure/had an awful nightmare/has misunderstood something to his profound disadvantage.

Comments

[krisreinke.livejournal.com]

Not a drabble (sorry - I don't seem able to write short.) Perhaps another fragment from the unwritten epic of doom.
******

I waved the mail as I let myself into the flat. Normally I would have waited for Reg to sort it out, but as I had met the postman coming down the street as I came up? Well, no need to add steps to the day. I was sorting the tosh from the bills – bills set aside to be dealt with later – when an elegant crème envelope popped out.

“I say.” I said, opening the wedding invite and scanning the engraving. “Young Biffen just set the date. Shall I respond for two?”

“No, sir.”

“Right ho. Imagine you’ve already RSVP’d, what with Charlie being your nephew and all.”

“No, sir.”

“What? Family skipping the stamped invite?” Expenses tended to be trimmed in these post-war years.

“No, sir.”

“Dash it Reg! What’s with all this snippery? You can’t disapprove of Lady Alice as much as all that?”

Reg could get his back up at times – a man of iron will and all that – but Alice was a Magdalene graduate and a duke’s daughter and a spiffing blonde and a bright alto besides. Not much there to grumble at.

“No. Sir.” Jeeves was giving a fair impression of a skipped record with a bent needle.

“Now THAT, Reginald Jeeves, is the bleeding limit!” I flipped over the guest card. “Cut the no-sirring or I swear I will write in your name and have this stamped in return post before you can say…”

“No, sir.”

“JEEVES!” I was on my feet.

“I do not disapprove of Lady Alice. She is, as you imply, a desirable match.”

“So what’s with the frozen frog?”

“Her Grace?” Lady Alice’s mother, it was understood. “The lady has made it clear she does not feel the same way.”

“She doesn’t think her own daughter is good enough for Charlie?” I could see if Reginald thought that way. No. Actually. I couldn’t. See previous notice about blue eyes and first-rate profile. But I understood that relatives got a bit picky. Some of my own encounters – and escapes – in matters matrimonial had hinged on such particular perspectives.

“The opposite.”

Reg kept the monotone, but at least offered up a full sentence. Progress, of a sort.

“Oh well. No mother likes her daughters’ suitor. Or so I’ve been informed.” I personally had encountered more of the opposite, but… sundry aunts had been forceful in informing this nephew that the Wooster was a special case. “Still and all, with the engraved card in hand? One has to assume that domestic discord has been swept under the Aubusson.”

“On condition that the wedding party avoids certain of the Biffen connections.”

Now that was a shocker. Biffy did have a bit of an odd cousin on his mother’s side, who had earned a term of His Majesties hospitality over the Irish issue, but it seemed rather extreme to hold distaff politics against the lad. I said as much, which – as I should have perhaps anticipated – brought about another…

“No, sir.”

“Reginald?” I discarded the correspondence for an arm full of R.J. This was getting a bit fraught, and when Reginald Jeeves wasn’t speaking? Well, that was Heaven’s clue that there was quite a bit that needed to be said.

“Her Grace is insisting - most vehemently – that the Jeeves side be excluded from the ceremony.”

[godsdaisiechain.livejournal.com]

Now that is just plain silly duchessness... clearly as Bertie's plus one and chief snugglebunny, Jeeves is really a Wooster.

[random-nexus.livejournal.com]

Well, anyone who'd exclude Jeeves is just asking for a snubbing from all the folks in the know. *haughty sniff*

Nicely done, old thing.

[lynndyre.livejournal.com]

Jeeves and the Syphilitic Scare, in two parts.



Heedless of the damage to his cuffs, Jeeves scrubbed at his hands with carbolic soap and his stiffest brush.

Had he not gripped exactly there... if he had failed to realise... He had nearly put his mouth -

Jeeves spat into the basin, reminded himself there had been no oral contact. He did not need to apply soap and brush to his tongue, however the idea appealed.

He clenched his teeth against the urge to gag. Despite the scrubbing, he could still feel the chancre against his fingertips, the man's jaw against his knuckles.

He reached again for the soap.

[lynndyre.livejournal.com]

"Everything all right, Jeeves?"

"Of course, sir."

Mr Wooster leaned an interrogative head around the kitchen doorway, clad in his dressing gown. "It's only you seemed to be washing a jolly long while, and look ever so slightly distressed."

"There was an unexpected element of discord earlier in the evening. The situation has been resolved."

"Relieved to hear it, old thing."

His employer vanished again; Jeeves subsided against the countertop. The strength of his reactions disturbed him, and equilibrium remained elusive.

In the sitting room, the piano lid thunked, and strains of Chopin issued forth.

Jeeves breathed in the sound.

[krisreinke.livejournal.com]

OH dear.

I DO hope the two drabbles are... ahem... unconnected. So to speak.
Hate to think that Bertie was the ... discord.

Brilliant ficlet, however. Very vivid. And this is something that could be so developed in a historical fiction such as the Woosterverse.

[lynndyre.livejournal.com]

Anonymous guy on his night off, and oblivious but wanting to be helpful employer, thankfully? If I were posting it with headings, I think the pairing/summary info would make it clearer- sorry.

I wanted to play with some of the historical stuff I hadn't run into before. And this was something I figured would genuinely scare Jeeves?

[krisreinke.livejournal.com]

All the more reason to settle down with Bertie, Jeeves. *smile*
Give up the floozies and go for true love.

[random-nexus.livejournal.com]

Absolutely!

[random-nexus.livejournal.com]

OH NOES!
Close call, there, Jeeves. My sympathies!
Best to pursue the young master. Definitely. *nodnodnod*

Also, yow, touchy subject, but well handled... and ew at the mental imagery there, sorry, given the subject.
*runs away to wash, as well.*

[lynndyre.livejournal.com]

Thanks so much for the comment- ^.^

Yeah, I think anything bad enough to rattle Jeeves is unfortunately bad enough to rattle whoever's writing/reading it too!

[godsdaisiechain.livejournal.com]

Um... eew... but powerfully done. Poor, poor Jeeves.

[lynndyre.livejournal.com]

I'm sorry? I haven't gotten an eww in a while, but I guess this one deserved it.

Jeeves has been thoroughly convinced of the disincentives in anonymous encounters, at least? And can come home to nice music?

[godsdaisiechain.livejournal.com]

Sorry. I meant that in the best possible way. It's so hard to make anything at all seem even remotely icky in the Jooster universe.

But, he wants to wash out his poor mouth with carbolic soap... poor Jeeves.

[godsdaisiechain.livejournal.com]

DRABBLE: An Unwelcome Missive


An annoyed head poked into the kitchen seeking an overdue whiskey. A jaw dropped. Jeeves had slumped across the table, shoulders heaving.

Bertie pressed the shoulder. “Forgive me, sir,” Jeeves gasped. “Your whiskey…” He shimmered out. A letter fluttered to the floor.

I know what you are. The Wooster nose crinkled in confusion.

Jeeves returned with the whiskey. Bertie handed it back. “You need this more than I do.” He poured another glass.

“Thank-you, sir.” Jeeves drained a grateful glass.

Bertie sat and patted a chair. “Out with it, now, Jeeves. Tell Wooster all. I will endeavor to help you.”

[lynndyre.livejournal.com]

I love Bertie for how easily and genuinely he will always, always want to help.

[godsdaisiechain.livejournal.com]

Yes, he is a bit schmoopy. And love your little icon by the way.

[random-nexus.livejournal.com]

Let Bertie help, Jeeves. If he can't fix it, he'll certainly make you feel much better.

Nicely done, old fruit!

[random-nexus.livejournal.com]

DRABBLE: Even Jeeves Has Nightmares

Bertie bolted awake at an anguished wail of his name. Blinking in confusion, he heard muffled sobs coming from… Jeeves?

Bertie touched Jeeves’ shoulder, “What’s the matter, old thing?”

Jeeves went still, and then rolled over alarmingly fast, wrapping around the Wooster corpus like a four-limbed barnacle. Bertie reciprocated the embrace, smooching his beloved’s head. “Nightmare?”

“Yes,” rasped Jeeves into Bertie’s neck. “I erred; we were discovered… you went to prison.”

“Impossible,” crooned Bertie. “You’re far too clever.”

Jeeves shook his head, burrowing closer. Bertie petted him lovingly, whispering endearments and reassurances till his beloved slipped into Morpheus’ kind embrace.