v-thinks-on

[v-thinks-on]

[v-thinks-on]

“Sir, it is hardly necessary,” Jeeves insisted, and I could sense a bit of the stuffed frog about him.

I checked the chap instanter. I have not known him for nearing fifty years for nothing, and Jeeves, the flatterer, has given me the notion that I have even gained something of a dignified air in that time, which I meant to use to my advantage.

“Jeeves,” I said, “if you insist on staying with me instead of retiring to a little seaside cottage then the least I can do is hire a maid to help out once a week.”

[v-thinks-on]

Morning came and, still unable to permit myself to linger, I extricated myself from bed, but Watson only shifted beneath the blankets, as if shying away from the sunlight. It was a hearteningly familiar sight; apart from his time in the service—now twice over—my dear Watson was a notoriously late riser.

As he dozed, I occupied myself with what had once been the peaceful routine of my retirement. Even though the war was over, the thought of when I might again be called to serve lingered ever at the surface of my mind. However, I could not go, even if the prime minister or the King himself begged at my door, on account of the man still resting in the other room even as day wore into evening.

I, perhaps foolishly, hoped that rest and time would be enough, as it had been for me, but as the days wore on and my dear Watson remained just shy of bedbound, spending the days more restfully than the nights, I began to fear that something more needed to be done, even if I was hardly qualified to prescribe it.

(Read More on AO3)

[v-thinks-on]

The decision of which gentleman to serve is too important for any gentleman’s gentleman to leave to chance. I first met my most agreeable employer of many years, Mr. Wooster, long before entering into his employ, though he would have no reason to remember it.

Mr. Wooster had been obliged to attend a dinner hosted by one of my previous employers despite being by far the youngest of the company. I found him sitting listlessly in a secluded corner while the rest of the gentlemen smoked in the parlour, and I was struck then by his vulnerability unconcealed behind belligerence.

[v-thinks-on]

The end had come. The world crumbled. The air screamed and wept bitter shards of dust that tore and burned whatever they touched.

Utena and Anthy held each other in the midst of the tempest of the apocalypse. Utena wrapped her arms around Anthy in a feeble attempt to shield her from the splinters of the decaying world but they permeated the air.

“I’m sorry, I failed to free you,” Utena whispered, her voice rough.

Anthy looked up at her, unflinching despite the rivulets of blood. “There is no freedom for the Rose Bride. But thank you for trying anyway.”

[v-thinks-on]

“We must work within the system.”

“Charles, you know as well as I that the system you so revere is a fiction, which only exists so much as those in power permit it to. Even before its foundations began to crack, it had already proven itself insufficient. All that remains is to finish what has already begun and break it down before it is twisted beyond recognition.”

“My old friend, how eagerly you speak of last resorts. If it cannot be done peacefully, I can only fear the cost.”

“I fear the cost if we do not act soon enough.” 

[v-thinks-on]

The Great War brought misfortune and disaster for many far younger, fitter men than I. More of them than could be counted—but in truth, it was only a very small proportion of the whole—had passed through the field hospital at which I was stationed, within hearing but rarely within sight of the front. However, even when artillery fire drew within yards of our makeshift hospital, rattling the air and blasting craters into the already ruined ground, I was not caught by the blast nor struck by shrapnel.

And so, I, with the other fortunate, was only finally removed from the front with the armistice, where I was dispatched back to England among the great shipfuls of men, all weak and worn from the prolonged hardships of the war effort but our spirits lightened by victory and the relief of returning home at long last.

I could only hope that I too had my own kith to return to in England. It had been months since the latest furtive letter from my dear Sherlock Holmes, who, last I had heard, was still engaged in his own, no less dangerous, part in the war effort. The only positive proof that he was still alive and well was that I had no word from Mycroft Holmes or any other source to the contrary, but I knew all too well that even if he had survived, it did not mean he had yet returned to safety.

(Read More on AO3)

[v-thinks-on]

Utena had ignored all the rumors about the old abandoned dorm. But that was before she lived there.

It was empty yet somehow, at night the creaking was even noisier than Utena’s old dorm, which had been full of students. She rolled over in bed and glanced across the room to see if Anthy—her new roommate and definitely not fiancée—was faring any better, but the other girl’s bed was empty.

Utena jolted at the sight of a pair of eyes gleaming in the window—a reflection of the glare off Anthy’s glasses as she stood, still and silent in the doorway.

[v-thinks-on]

#bertie assuming people only want him for his money #AND JEEVES STAYS FOR HIS HEART

Not to "well, actually" the reblogs, but this is my blog and I have thoughts:

I'm not sure Wooster would really assume anyone just wants him for his money. A few times in the stories Wooster mentions someone trying to get a few pounds out of him, but it's always someone he doesn't know very well, and despite his otherwise excessively obliging nature, he's true to his class and entirely unwilling to pony up. His friends and family successfully take advantage of him in other ways, and I assume that's the reason he expects most people to stick around, not his money.

The only exception to this is of course Jeeves who is dependent on Wooster's money because he works for him. That's why, even if Jeeves and Wooster were in a committed personal relationship, I think it would be perfectly reasonable to assume that losing his fortune would be the end of it. Jeeves has to make a living somehow, and if he's to continue working as a valet, that means he would have to live with someone else. Under the circumstances, Jeeves is basically choosing Wooster over his career and, in 1929 New York, possibly any chance of a stable income for the foreseeable.

“I say, Jeeves, I guess this is it, what?”

It was the New York crash in ‘29 that did it. It sunk many a greater fortune than Bertram Wooster, and even a brainy fellow like Jeeves could not, as it turned out, foresee all things.

“I’m afraid there’s hardly enough left in the Wooster coffers for a gentleman, let alone a gentleman’s gentleman,” I soldiered on, dashed awkward though it was, “and you know I’m lacking in all practical skills of the sort that might earn it back.”

However, Jeeves remained steady. “Even so, we need not necessarily part ways.”

[v-thinks-on]

“What’s a logical gentleman like you doing in a place like this?”

Spock quirked an eyebrow at Jim, who merely smiled and slid into the empty seat beside him.

“Your best Vulcan tea for my charming companion,” Jim said to the woman behind the bar of the little deep space outpost where their ships had briefly docked.

“Admiral, there is no need for you to order tea on my behalf,” Spock protested, bemused by the illogical human gesture.

“I wouldn’t invite you back to my quarters without at least buying you a drink first.”

“Very well, Admiral, then I accept.”

[v-thinks-on]

Jim!

Admiral James Kirk awoke in a cold sweat. He bolted upright in bed on the Enterprise, his heart pounding and a painful sting in his side that wasn’t really his.

Spock! He called out with all the psychic powers he didn’t possess. Spock, do you read me?

Near the edge of consciousness and unconsciousness, he found Spock fighting to stay awake.

Spock! Jim called out again.

He felt Spock’s eyes flutter open. Jim… Spock projected, but he seemed distant and weak.  The pain spiked as he tried to move.Spock, just hang in there, Jim insisted, I’ll find you.

[v-thinks-on]

It was hardly a flat on Berkeley Square or the New York penthouse, rather more suited to a struggling artist than man about town. However, even in this humble setting, some things remained unchanged; Jeeves still brought me the tea every morning, though the silver platter had gone with the rest of the finery.

I could no longer afford to retain a valet any more than the flat or the finery, but instead of going into the service of another gentleman, Jeeves went out each day to find what work he could. Meanwhile, I took up my pen once again.

“I say, Jeeves, I guess this is it, what?”

It was the New York crash in ‘29 that did it. It sunk many a greater fortune than Bertram Wooster, and even a brainy fellow like Jeeves could not, as it turned out, foresee all things.

“I’m afraid there’s hardly enough left in the Wooster coffers for a gentleman, let alone a gentleman’s gentleman,” I soldiered on, dashed awkward though it was, “and you know I’m lacking in all practical skills of the sort that might earn it back.”

However, Jeeves remained steady. “Even so, we need not necessarily part ways.”

[v-thinks-on]

I didn't know I needed this in my life but now it's in yours too

[v-thinks-on]

“I say, Jeeves, I guess this is it, what?”

It was the New York crash in ‘29 that did it. It sunk many a greater fortune than Bertram Wooster, and even a brainy fellow like Jeeves could not, as it turned out, foresee all things.

“I’m afraid there’s hardly enough left in the Wooster coffers for a gentleman, let alone a gentleman’s gentleman,” I soldiered on, dashed awkward though it was, “and you know I’m lacking in all practical skills of the sort that might earn it back.”

However, Jeeves remained steady. “Even so, we need not necessarily part ways.”

[v-thinks-on]

“Lan-gege,” Wei Wuxian wheedled, “I can ask you anything, even personal things, right?”

“Mn,” answered Lan Wangji, unperturbed and perhaps a little intrigued.

“Of course, you know it was first announced that the second child of Clan Leader Lan was born Lady Lan but obviously you’re the epitome in masculinity—in every way. How did you do it?”

Lan Wangji’s brow had furrowed as Wei Wuxian spoke, but when Wei Wuxian finished, he answered simply, “I cultivated it.”

“Oh, I should have guessed! It’s a shame Mo Xuanyu’s golden core is so weak.”

“Mn?”

Wei Wuxian shrugged. “I was just thinking about how nice it would be to be your wife.”

(Read More on AO3)

[v-thinks-on]

After being rescued from the TV world, something like a sickness came over Naoto—it might have been fascinating if it wasn’t so exhausting that Naoto spent the following days sleeping.

Late one afternoon, Naoto awoke to find a small, crocheted toy sitting on the bedside table, bearing a note that read “Get well soon!” in messy characters. It was cute, but thankfully not cutesy; a little penguin, the same shade of blue as Naoto’s hat, wearing a miniature trench coat, also handmade.

The care that had been put into it was as bewildering as heartwarming, and Naoto held it tight.

[v-thinks-on]

I've been enjoying my drabble project, but have been starting to run out of steam a bit - as it turns out, doing one drabble a day, even though it's just 100 words, is still significant. So, I think I'll be pulling back to one every other day and seeing how that goes!