#Length: <5000 Words

[harry-potter-archive]

Your Move, Draco by chachisoo

Description: Complete (9 Panels)

Summary:

Through a subtle touch, Draco accidentally challenges Harry to a flirting match that turns out to be more than he can handle.

Published: Archive of Our Own; 2019 Last Updated: Dec. 31, 2019

[laugtherhyena]

Finally past this "bump" on the chapter 21 writing road or whatever you wanna call it

[7loveneverfails]

I might be planning some research to write a novel of the life of Elijah.

I might have a note on my phone....

[emmyrosee]

Hey so

This is really dumb, and kind of ridiculous, and it’s the most first world problem I’ve got, but when you make requests, please do not demand a length.

Like I totally get it, you want your idea to come to life and I’m so excited that you trust me to do it, but please remember that length comes from inspiration and I have absolutely no indication of how long something will be, so making a demand may do more harm for the piece than good.

Idk, it’s super dumb and I know that, but I just want this to be a place of thriving creativity, and if you have a length you’re expecting for one reason or another and you do not trust me to do it, please feel open to write it for yourself and tag me if you so desire.

Thank ya, baby 💖

[simpscripts]

Now I get to decide if I want to stop this chapter at 7,000 words or do the whole thing I originally planned as one long ass fucking chapter.

[roosterforme]

Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 10 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: After just two days back home, Bradley takes you on a second date. He wants more, and you don't seem to mind when he can't keep his hands and lips to himself.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, language, Bradley being boyfriend material

Length: 5000 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

"Shit."

It had been such a long time since Bradley wore anything other than a flight suit, a khaki uniform or gym clothes, he had no idea what he was supposed to wear to dinner tonight. You mentioned weeks ago you thought Italian food sounded nice for a second date, and he agreed wholeheartedly. He managed to snag a table for the two of you at Salvatore's, and he was absolutely prepared to drop over five hundred bucks, but his clothing was becoming a situation.

After spending the entire day with you yesterday, Saturday morning was a bit of a reality check. He was trying to work through three loads of laundry while he sorted through a box of mail. There was nothing sweet in there like the packages you and your class sent to him while he was deployed. It was mostly bills that had already been automatically paid online, mortgage statements, and junk. Then he started folding laundry, somehow expecting some articles of clothing that weren't threadbare tee shirts or tropical print button downs to jump out at him.

"Why don't you have normal clothing?" he asked himself as he picked up his phone now that it was late enough to text you. He wanted to make sure you were okay with grabbing a drink before the dinner reservation which wasn't until 7:45. But when he unlocked his phone, instead of zero new messages, he found a picture you sent seven minutes ago. 

"Oh my god," he groaned softly, dropping onto his bed next to some unfolded laundry. You were in your own bed wearing his favorite sweatshirt and a bright smile.

Good morning, Handsome. Last night felt like a dream, but your sweatshirt is real, so it must have happened.

He scrambled to write back, clothing crisis forgotten. God, he wanted to be in that bed in the worst way. Things would definitely get out of hand pretty quickly, but he knew those first few kisses would be the sweetest things. After last night at the beach, waiting for a few more dates was going to be the challenge of his life, but he wanted you to know he was in this for the long haul. Especially after you mentioned that you thought he may have ghosted you.

Hey, Gorgeous. My sweatshirt looks way better on you than it ever did on me. Did you sleep in it?

He hit send and then wished he hadn't asked that question. He sounded like a horny twenty year old. It was bad enough that he had to practically beg you to go inside your apartment last night while you were kissing his neck, but he didn't want to embarrass himself.

Of course I did. It smells like you. The only thing better would be having you in my bed, too...

How the hell was he supposed to wait until this evening to see you? He tossed his phone aside. His blood felt like it was on fire, and he was sweating. Never before had he wanted to move this fast from a first date to making things official. But he knew you. He'd been working up to this point for months. And the Thai dinner with Prosecco on the beach wasn't really a first date. That felt closer to a reunion with a girlfriend than anything else. The only thing missing for that to have been true was a sleepover instead of him taking you home for the night. 

He was too many steps ahead right now. You hadn't yet done the drive down to Coronado from Mira Mesa for yourself, but he already caught himself wondering if you'd consider moving in with him in the future. "You need to relax," he ground out through gritted teeth. "You'll scare her away." He cracked his neck and forced himself to fold a stack of underwear before picking up his phone to reply.

I don't want to rush things, but your bed does look very comfortable. I'm confident we could get cozy there... You're making me blush. I need to get this conversation back on track. Cocktails before dinner at Salvatore's? I'll pick you up at 5:30?

A few minutes later, you responded with a photo of you still all snuggled up in bed, smiling and giving him a thumbs up in his shirt.

--------------------------

"Just in case," you muttered, making sure your bedding was straightened and your room was tidy. You left Bradley's TOP GUN sweatshirt folded on your pillow, but you certainly wouldn't mind having the man himself in your bed tonight. Your fingers and toes tingled when you thought about it. You bit your lip and scooped up his shirt, inhaling his scent one more time before you realized he would be here any minute.

When he knocked on your door, you set it back on your pillow and glanced at yourself in the mirror as you bounced past it. Cocktails and dinner at Salvatore's would have been a major splurge for a night out for you, but Bradley selected the restaurant. All you did was mention Italian food, and he really ran with it. You'd have been happy with some pizza and breadsticks, simply excited he remembered you mentioned Italian food at all, but this called for your littlest black dress and your brightest red lipstick. 

"I'm coming!" you called, going as fast as you could in your black heels, giggling at the double meaning. You had to compose yourself before you could open the door, and when you did, you were met with the actual man of your dreams.

"Hey, Gorgeous." Bradley's crooked little smile faltered a bit as his gaze slid down from your eyes to your lips, but he didn't stop there. He was shamelessly checking you out as a pretty shade of pink crept up into his cheeks, and you did a slow turn for him. 

Your skin felt warm as you met his eyes after doing a full circle. His lips were parted as you whispered, "Hi," and reached for his hand. As soon as your skin met his, he pulled you closer to him. "Bradley." His lips were on yours as he backed you up into your apartment until you softly met the wall behind you. He was big and warm, and you were holding his left hand while his right one came up to your face.

He broke the kiss by tipping your chin up so you were looking at him. "You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen," he crooned softly. Your lipstick was smudged along his mouth, and his tongue darted out to taste it before he said, "I'm fucking crazy about you."

His rough thumb dragged along your bottom lip as you said, "And you've never even seen me dispose of a spider for you."

"Baby," he rasped. "I'd probably propose."

A shocked giggle escaped you, and his crooked grin was back as he kept you there against your wall with your door wide open. You reached up and ran your fingers along the collar of his oxford shirt before tugging on the fabric until his lips were on yours again. You let your head tip back against the wall as he devoured you, tasting your lips, tongue and teeth before his forehead came to rest gently on yours.

"You know," you gasped, trying to catch your breath, "I thought all your emails were sweet and romantic."

He chuckled as he pulled away from you. "I was hoping I was doing okay in person, too."

You shrugged playfully and tried to spin out of his grasp, but his hand was still wrapped up in yours. He followed you to your coffee table so you could grab your purse as you casually told him, "You're even better in person than I thought you'd be."

"Oh yeah?" he asked, pulling you close again. "You like my stupid looking clothes and how I can eat three meals for dinner?"

He was so endearing, you didn't know how to handle him. So you kissed him again and whispered, "I like all of it." You let your fingers trail along his shirt buttons as you said, "You look nice in this, but I can already tell you're more comfortable in your colorful Aloha shirts and jeans. And I love that you can eat three meals for dinner, because we ended up sharing everything last night."

"Let's go," he coaxed, leading you toward your door. "I'll let you pick whatever you want to try at Salvatore's. I don't usually like sharing my food, but there's just something about you, Gorgeous. You make me feel comfortable."

-------------------------

You tried to tell Bradley twice that he still had some of your lipstick smudged on his face, but he just shrugged and said, "Good," in response both times. If he didn't mind, then neither did you. It couldn't be any more obvious that he was with you when the exact color that was on your lips was also on his. You listened to him hum along to the retro oldies station as he merged onto the coastal highway while you took a minute to fix up your own smudged lipstick.

He grinned over at you as you put your makeup away and said, "Come on, Baby. If you didn't want it on my face, then you wouldn't be putting more on your lips."

Every time he made a bold statement like that, you wanted to cancel dinner altogether and take him to your bedroom. "I never said I didn't want it on your face. It looks good." 

He reached out blindly for your hand, and you grabbed his immediately. "You did tell me you wanted me to kiss you as soon as I saw you."

"Yeah," you muttered. "Don't stop doing that." You knew things with him were going to get physical pretty quickly, but you'd never been quite this attracted to someone before. You drew little shapes on his palm as you asked, "How was your first night back in your own bed after so many months away?"

He groaned softly. "Epic. Fantastic. I don't fit very well in an extra long twin bed."

"No, I would imagine you don't," you said with a laugh as you watched him drive his Bronco in the evening sunlight.

He licked his lips and grinned as he said, "Would have been better if you were there though."

The eruption of butterflies in your belly left you biting your lip. You wanted to respond, but you needed to be able to make it through dinner before you were hanging off of him again like you were last night. That's when he brought your hand up to his lips and kissed your knuckles, treating you to his mustache there. "Feel like getting a drink or two in the lounge first? Maybe a bottle of wine?"

"Mmhmm," you hummed, ready to go anywhere he took you. As soon as he parked, he jogged around to help you down, letting you slide against his body with your hands on his shoulders. You wobbled a bit in your shoes, but he kept you steady.

"You good?" he asked as he leaned in, his lips brushing the side of your neck as his arm wrapped around your waist.

"So good," you promised. "Never better."

Bradley kept his hand right there on your hip as he led you along the sidewalk toward the restaurant. The lounge was packed; this was definitely a popular weekend date night locale. Couples filled the space with noisy conversation, but you could hear Bradley perfectly as his lips found your ear when he said, "There's an empty stool at the far end of the bar." He gave your hip a little squeeze as you headed for it, and he leaned on the bar next to you. "Why don't you pick out a bottle of wine or whatever you want? I'll go let the hostess know we'll be hanging out in the lounge."

When you agreed, he kissed your lips like the two of you had been at this for years, not just since yesterday. You weren't the only one who watched him walk away in his snug pants and Oxford shirt that somehow showed off his biceps. He was just that good looking. When you saw him without a shirt on, you'd probably faint and need him to revive you. When the bartender came over, you were chuckling to yourself at the idea of having sex with Bradley while he kept his shirt on to save you from that fate.

"Can I get you a drink?"

You looked at him in a daze, realizing you meant to choose a bottle of wine. You blurted out what kind you liked best, and with a nod and a smile, he turned to fill your request. And that's when you finally looked at the menu and realized the bottle was more than a hundred and fifty dollars.

"Oh shit." But it was too late. He had already opened it and was heading your way with it. You scrambled in your purse for your wallet, cringing at the idea of Bradley seeing the bill when you could have simply ordered a cocktail instead. Just as the bartender was pouring out a bit of the wine for you to try, you found your credit card successfully. And that was also when Bradley came back.

"They'll come get us when our table's ready," he said. "I told them it would be easy to find me since my date is the most beautiful woman in the restaurant." He watched the bartender pick up a second glass and said, "Oh perfect, you found some wine that you like."

You nodded and tried your best to pass your credit card across the bar undetected with your hand covering it. "I sure did."

Bradley's eyes followed your hand as he took a sip of the wine. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing," you told him, picking up your own glass with your other hand. You tasted the wine and nodded at the bartender, and then he filled up both glasses while Bradley reached for your credit card.

"That's not necessary, Gorgeous. You can put that away."

You waited until the bartender walked off before you shook your head. "Let me pay for the wine. I was distracted and just picked a random bottle before I looked at the price, and then it was too late because he already had it opened. It's expensive."

Bradley looked completely unfazed as he eased your card from your hand and tucked it back into your wallet. "I don't care about that."

"I do," you said softly in your embarrassment. "I don't want you to think that's what I expected."

Bradley laughed in response. "First of all, I would never think that. And second, I was on that aircraft carrier for so long, and this wine tastes so good, and you look so pretty... I don't even want to tell you how much I'd be willing to pay for that bottle of wine and our dinner."

You simultaneously felt better and a little warm. "Okay, fine. But next time we go out for dinner, we're getting burgers from In-N-Out, and I'm paying."

His smile grew as you sipped your wine which really was quite good. "So that means you want to go out again?"

You rolled your eyes up at him where he stood, his hand brushing your knee where it was crossed over your other leg. "I'm about to make an In-N-Out reservation right now."

"Perfect," he replied. "Which night? I have to work late a few days next week to get caught up on everything I missed while I was away."

"You're ridiculous," you told him with a laugh. "How about Wednesday?"

His fingers toyed with the hem of your dress as he said, "Wednesday's good. You also need to let me know when I can visit your classroom again." His words were so sweet, and his gaze was sincere, but the feel of his fingertips inching along your skin above your knee was something else. 

You set your glass down next to your purse and reached for his hand, letting his fingers slip underneath your dress as you met his brown eyes. When he teased your skin with his rough hands, you reached for his shirt, and Bradley came willingly. Salvatore's didn't provide the two of you with the same level of privacy as the beach last night had, but you didn't really care, and he didn't seem to either.

-----------------------------

You had the softest skin. How was he supposed to keep his hands off you? And that red lipstick made your little pout when he teased you even more delectable than he could have imagined. And he'd been doing plenty of imagining for the last few months. He'd imagined you in a variety of scenarios with him, but so far being with you in person surpassed everything his vivid thoughts came up with.

When he mentioned visiting you at work, you treated him to the silky soft feel of your skin, and then you literally grabbed the front of his shirt and tugged until he was kissing you. Oh god, he was never going to recover from this. He had to wrap his hand around the middle of your thigh to keep himself from going any further as you moaned softly into his mouth. He was absolutely starving and a little dizzy from the wine, but he was thinking about skipping dinner in favor of the solitude of the Bronco right now.

"Mr. Bradshaw?"

Your tongue was slowly tasting his when you jerked away from him as the hostess strolled over. Embarrassed, you turned toward the bar as Bradley grunted in response at the young woman who told him the table was ready for the two of you. And maybe that wasn't a bad thing, because feeling you up in the middle of the crowded lounge wasn't something he'd feel good about later. At least not on the second date. He'd bring you back here in a few months and see if the two of you even made it to dinner.

With a smile, he reached for your free hand after you picked up your glass. You halfway hid your face against his bicep as the hostess picked up the bottle and led the way through the lounge and into the restaurant. Bradley kissed your forehead and murmured, "If I could keep my hands off of you, this wouldn't be a problem."

You peered up at him through your lashes. "Hanging out on your couch alone is sounding better and better."

"Fuck," he groaned softly as you released his hand and took a seat at the table set for two which was overlooking the bay. Bradley pushed your chair in, and his thumbs met your bare arms. He took a few deep breaths before taking the seat opposite yours and accepted one of the menus as he listened to the specials while he looked at your face. He muttered some sort of response, and then the two of you were alone.

You emptied the remainder of the wine between his glass and yours, and then Bradley watched you lick a little droplet from your thumb as you smiled at him. "So which three dinners are you planning on ordering tonight?"

It took him a second to realize that he was holding an open menu even though he hadn't looked at it once. He cleared his throat and said, "Definitely some homemade spaghetti and meatballs. The last time I ate spaghetti, it was overcooked and sad, and I had to go back to my bunk and think about you to make myself feel better." You covered your mouth with one hand while you laughed, and it was the most charming thing he'd ever seen. "I'm so serious, Gorgeous. I got a plate of soggy noodles, and literally the only thing that made it better was imagining you teaching your class about military grade jets and aviation."

Your pretty eyes were glittering as you told him, "I keep extending my lessons on the topic, and you are completely to blame for that. After the first time you responded to us, my students asked about you every single day. They are completely enamored with you."

"Yeah? Just them? Or you too?" He knew his words were reminiscent of the way you'd tried to blame it on your kids when you asked him to send you a picture so you could see what he looked like.

"Hmm." You pretended to peruse your menu. "I'm thinking about the ravioli. Or maybe the penne with vodka sauce." Your foot tapped his leg beneath the table, and he had to fight the urge to reach under and touch your skin again. You were teasing him in every way right now, and he was absolutely loving it. When the waiter dropped off glasses of water and some freshly baked bread, he asked if you wanted anything else to drink.

"You want another bottle of wine, Gorgeous?" Bradley asked, deciding to tease you right back.

"Absolutely not," you told him, looking at him like he had two heads before kindly telling the waiter, "No, thank you."

He was still laughing when he picked up a piece of bread. "So we'll get spaghetti, penne and ravioli?"

"You don't have to order what I want," you told him, your foot still running along his calf while your expression dripped with innocence.

"No. I want to though." It was kind of fun spoiling you with something as simple as dinner. Vanessa would have made a comment by now about how much she hated the slightly kitschy, over the top restaurant, even if the food was supposed to be immaculate. You didn't seem to mind one bit that he ordered three massive entrees and intended to finish whatever you didn't. Vanessa always got embarrassed, but all you said was that you were excited to try all three.

There was never a lull in conversation. You actually listened to Bradley when he was talking, and he could have listened to you all night.

"So you know how last night I mentioned... that I'd never really thought about dating someone in the military who deploys for work?"

"Yeah," Bradley rasped, not sure he loved where the conversation was heading.

You looked a little apprehensive as you said, "I was thinking about it more last night after you dropped me off." 

"And?"

You kind of shrugged and said, "I think I'd actually be okay with it, as long as it's you. It almost feels like we got some big, scary thing out of the way already, you know? And I could always write to you, because I kind of loved doing that. And yes, Bradley, I am also completely enamored with you."

It was almost a shame that the food arrived then, because as you started to cut into an enormous ravioli, all he could think to say was, "I'm completely enamored with you, too."

-----------------------------

You were so full from dinner, you didn't know how Bradley could walk. He ate at least two times what you did, and then he insisted on ordering a piece of cheesecake. When you caught sight of the bill, you tried not to gasp, because it was more than you spend on groceries for a whole month. But he handed over his credit card and signed his name without even breaking conversation with you. And now you were discreetly grabbing a handful of mints on your way out of the restaurant as he held your hand.

It was late, and you knew he was still tired. He mentioned briefly that he had a lot of chores to do this week amidst some late nights at work, but you didn't know how you'd be able to wait until Wednesday to see him again. When he started up the Bronco and headed in the direction of your apartment, your mind flooded with questions, but he asked you one first.

"I already have plans tomorrow, but I don't think I can wait until Wednesday to see you again. What time do you usually get to school?"

"7:20."

"Okay. And what kind of coffee do you like?"

You couldn't stop smiling as you told him what you usually ordered on the rare occasion you had time to stop at Starbucks. You kind of already felt like he was spoiling you.

"Have you memorized everything I've ever told you?"

"Yep," he replied, his handsome smile evident in the street lights. "And I've gotta say, you're one of a kind, Gorgeous."

You honestly didn't want the ride to end. The fact that there was no buffer of traffic to add to the twenty minute drive made you pout a little bit. Bradley's deep voice layered over the music playing on the radio while he held your hand was intoxicating, but you made a disappointed sound as he parked in front of your building.

When he released your hand to kill the engine in the near darkness, all you could see was his handsome profile. "You thought the drive would be too much for me," you whispered. "But when I'm in the car with you, I don't want it to end."

He cleared his throat and softly said, "Well, we don't have to get out quite yet if you don't want to."

Your pout turned into a grin as you unbuckled your seatbelt. "I can tell you still need to catch up on some sleep. I don't want to keep you out too late, Bradley."

He chuckled and undid his own seatbelt. "Why don't you come a little closer and say my name again."

As you eased yourself onto your hands and knees, you scooted across the seat and whispered, "Bradley," with a little laugh.

"Closer?" he asked, and you crawled over to him until you were able to kiss his cheek.

"Bradley."

He turned his head so his lips met yours, and he whispered, "Closer," against your mouth.

You were immediately in his lap, your hands resting on his chest as the steering wheel met your lower back. Your lips found his scarred cheek just like last night, and you kissed your way along his mustache and the side of his nose. You let your hands drift slowly down over his abs until they met the leather of his belt, and you whispered his name one more time.

His big hands closed around your wrists as he groaned, "You really love teasing me."

You nodded and said, "I really do," as he guided your hands up to his shoulders and around his neck.

"You're really good at it, Baby. All those pictures of you in your bed are enough to get a man through a deployment and then promptly kill him once he's on dry land if he can't touch you immediately."

He kissed the inside of your arm, and you scooted your body a little closer to his. "You can touch me." Your words elicited a deep groan as he slid his big hands along your bare arms, leaving goosebumps in their wake. He kissed your lips, swiping his tongue against yours as his fingers trailed down your sides. You almost cried out when his thumbs grazed the sides of your breasts before he gently squeezed your waist and your hips.

You could invite him to stay over. You didn't think he'd turn you down if you did. But all you could manage to say was, "Bradley," between kisses.

He tipped his head back against the headrest and whispered, "I love the way that sounds." His eyes were glittering in the darkness as he looked at your face and your body, and you remembered his text message from earlier.

I don't want to rush things

It was hard for you to remember that yesterday in your classroom was the first time you touched him. The first time you heard his voice in person. As much as you wanted to lean in close and ask him to stay, instead you kissed his ear and said, "You promised me movie night on your couch. When?"

"Friday?" he asked, kissing along your neck. "Let me end the week with my Gorgeous girl?"

"Yes."

You were afraid you were going to melt right out onto the pavement when he opened his door, but he helped you down and kept his arm wrapped around you. Bradley walked a half step behind you in the darkness all the way to your apartment. While there was no expectation that he was going to join you inside, you ended up pinned against your door, because it didn't seem like he was quite ready to leave yet either. 

He was eager. You could feel it as his lips found your neck again. He smiled against you as he whispered your name in that deep raspy voice. "Since you don't like surprises, I'm telling you right now that you should expect to see me in the parking lot at your school on Monday morning. Sound okay?"

"Oh god, yes," you whined as he released you. There were so many things you wanted to tell him as he put a foot of space between your bodies, really giving you a chance to see his pink cheeks and the way he was breathing deeply. You blurted out, "I'm falling so hard for you."

His crooked little grin was back as he nodded at your door. "Lock it behind you. And when you get in bed, in my sweatshirt, send me another selfie."

"I will," you promised, and you did exactly what he said. A minute after you texted the photo, you got a message back from him.

I think I'm falling even harder.

-----------------------

I'm so obsessed with them. She was so concerned about that bottle of wine! And he really wasn't lol. Coffee and burgers and a couch date coming up. This story will be 18+ soon. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 11

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[tomicscomics]

07/26/2024

When the carnivore diet gets out of hand.

JOKE-OGRAPHY: 1. In this Bible story, Jesus and His disciples go to rest on a mountainside, but a big crowd of followers tracks them down. They want to hear more of Jesus's cool Jesus-words and see more of Jesus's cool Jesus-deeds. Jesus asks Philip what they can feed everyone, and Philip replies incredulously that it'd cost 200 days' wages to buy everyone something little. Of course, Jesus was only testing his faith with one of His many Jesus-tricks. Then Andrew appears, escorting a kid who offers to share a few fish and some loaves of bread. Jesus accepts the food and passes some out to everyone, and somehow, there's plenty for over 5000 men (not including families that might have been with them). When Jesus asks His disciples to clean up, the leftovers fill twelve baskets -- way more than they started with. The people are all wowed, dazzled, and amused. 2. In this cartoon, I inject an extra bit of dialogue into the story. When Andrew introduces the boy, Jesus assumes Andrew is suggesting they eat the child, causing Andrew to panic until the boy clarifies his true purpose. Of course, Jesus only said this to test them, for He Himself knew what He was going to do (John 6:6), and is just being super hilarious.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This cartoon is a Tomics "Second Coming," where I've taken an ancient comic that was already resurrected, and redraw it once again. You'll notice through these iterations that it's gone back and forth between length, but the pacing remains roughly the same throughout. The first version features my ancient desaturated style in all its boring wonder. The second features brighter colors but strangely greenish skin, and also a shorter and more to-the-point format. I think I prefer the longer version for setting a scene, but I could go either way -- and I have! Anyway, it's a very exclusive status for one of my comics to be redrawn twice. Maybe one day I'll redraw it a third time, but for now, how does it compare to its past selves?

[frauleinandry]

the people have VERY much spoken

for context, the shorter entries range from 200-800 words, while the longer ones are shaping up to be around approximately 3000k words

[etoilesombre]

Hi im a new here i finally watched black sails after someone convinced me. And im changed. I'm. Yeah. I'm not who i was before. It's a bizarrely good show?

I'm so so so glad that so many ppl on ao3 agree with me that flint and silver need to fuck. Have fucked. Will fuck.

This will be all i think about for the next month or so.

If you have fic recs do let me know. I'm in dire need.

Hi my friend and welcome to hell! It's the best, right? ("Month" is a HIGHLY optimistic estimate about how long this will consume your brain...)

So honored that you asked for recs! I don't think I've ever compiled a general list of favorites, I had a great time and I think I'm happy with the results. This is by no means comprehensive, and obviously HIGHLY reflective of my own tastes, which are... uh.. I am known to not enjoy nice things very much. I invite others to reblog with their own favorites. Here we go...

Notes: These are in vaguely chronological order. I'm including word count and brief descriptions so you know what you're getting into but no warnings or anything, that's all on AO3. They are all silverflint and all explicit (I think, there might be one or two 'mature' in there but, this is the they need to, have, and will fuck list.) I didn't include any of my own work because presumably that's how you found my blog so you're aware, but I do have a pinned list, and if you want recs for mine or to talk about any of these just message, I will talk about silverflint all day.

Overall Recommendations:

The Most Unexpected Things by forbiddenarchives (~20k words) I think this one is a great starting point. It is very.. fic flavored fic, if that makes sense, in a great way. Hits the spot. The author's description is "season 2 if everyone were 5000% hornier" and that is accurate. Note this is marked as unfinished, but the place it wraps up feels totally reasonable to me.

As Good as Gone by spinninginfinityboy (~5.5k words) Complicated hot weird semi-hate sex on the way to Charles Town. A thing with a Spanish Dubloon that is emblazoned on my brain forever.

Combat by equestrianstatue (~10k words) A two part series, which I think captures the push-pull early frenemies vibe of s1-2 perfectly. Also the writing itself is stellar.

All alone in a moonlit shanty by PrimalScream (4.3k) Celebrating a good day hunting, Flint gets very drunk and tells the crew a dirty story. Silver tries to put him to bed, but he has different ideas. By far one of the lighter things on this list.

after the winnowing by princesskay (~14k) Set after Silver loses his leg, early in his recovery. Silk pajamas, multiple orgasms and overstimulation as well as their usual codependent fuckery.

What It Feels Like Not to Hurt by Robotboy (~9k) Another recovery fic. As the author says, it's 9k of slowburn watersports but really it's about Silver's pain and autonomy and humiliation and. Just. Even if it's not your usual cup of tea it's hot, give it a try.

vigia by doomcountry (~3k) A short, perfect rendering of their dynamic during early s3 raid times. Heartwrenching character study, excellent porn.

The Sack of James Flint by princesskay (~107k) So, yes, this is a novel length sub!Flint cock and ball torture series. I would make the argument that it is one of the best character studies in the fandom, for real. Absolutely worth your time, but fuck, it hurts your heart as much as your captain's balls in the end.

Concurrence by ember_firedrake (~2.5k) Mid s3. The first time they call each other by their first names. Now, that's not actually a thing I think they do, but, good porn and lower angst.

appreciation by nysscientia (~8k) Flint cultivates a certain aloof persona, but Silver sees right through it, and eventually they kiss about it.

Don't Fear The Ships (Fear The Black) by Farasha (~10k) - Silverflint use learning to sail as a coded way to flirt and talk about feelings (and eventually they kiss about it).

A Ship Is A Republic by Robotboy (~20k) A slow burn fic set during the inter-season sword training times. Love this dynamic, this author does power bottom Flint and sub Silver so fucking well.

deliverance is ours by the light of the stars by piratecaptainraven (3.1k) Flint sees Silver and Madi together, and doesn't stop watching when he should. They don't technically fuck in this, but its SO much pining, and the writing is poetic and gorgeous.

frail and fragile bars by ajaxthegreat (~21k) Possibly the hottest thing I've ever read, this rewrote my brain chemistry. Slow burn-ish. It captures that late season love and dependence and resentment and power struggle.

Cold, Dark, Depraved by notfelix (~10k) When fucking fixes absolutely nothing. This hurts in a way that feels, to me, similar to canon. I hate it (affectionate).

Opportunist by anonymous (~6.1k) This was part of the kinkmeme event (see below) and it fucking changed me. If I recommend one fic and only one fic to process the ending, it's this. It's awful. It's necrophilia and light cannibalism. It's the only thing I can imagine happening after, if Silver actually shoots Flint on that island. It makes me feel bad in the best way.

hand in unlovable hand by brinnanza, Jaynovz (~9.9k) Affectionately known as the worst ending AU, this is actually a great followup to the last one. How Silver copes, after Skeleton Island.

Bonus: AUs. I don't generally read AUs, but these two worked for me, in very different ways that still felt very silverflint.

did the twin flame bruise paint you blue by Jaynovz (138k) Novel length mod AU where silverflint broke up, and we see their relationship along two different timelines, before and after. Toxic fucked up goodness, lots of BDSM dynamics, bonus silvervane! All set in NYC.

holy ghost fire by ajaxthegreat (~52k) Appalachia horror au! The author clearly knows the area, and silverflint is already a ghost story, so it works really well. If you've ever been there you'll know how right it feels, if not, just trust me.

extra bonus: fic event collections and rec lists

kinkmeme

built on sand

beach blanket black sails

@jaynovz has also compiled a number of much more specific rec lists, which can be found at #jay's esoteric rec lists

[miwiheroes]

elmax fans: elmax is my fave thing ever but lumax is very cute

lumax fans: lumax’s love is beautiful but i can fw elmax

milkvan fans: but ours is literally canon they have kissed what have yours done?? i think will should die lol mike hates him

byler fans: oh okay um well *proceeds to give 5000 word thesis length studies on narrative structure and character arcs* haha

[withlove-xixi]

It's ok if not [he's on there a lot already & I'm so excited], but may I suggest Chilchuck for either spanking or oral? Mainly because I can def see him into that power dynamic with spanking and I take the succubus scene as a sign he might like the slop-top, LOL.

P.S Remember to take care of yourself and not to burn out! :)

— MINDLESS SELF-INDULGENCE: chilchuck x reader

KINKTOBER DAY TWENTY-NINE: ORAL SEX ᥫ cw: nsfw, oral sex (chilchuck receiving), sub!chilchuck if you squint ᥫ wc: 1167 ★ sloppy toppy gawk gawk 5000 on the silly old guy .... thank you so much for the suggestion anonon !!! i agree ... chilchuck would love getting head ... hawk tuah, as the kids these days say! cross posted on ao3 — MINORS DNI! —

— CHILCHUCK WAS OLD.

[♡]: there wasn’t much skirting around it, he was old. it was just fact. it wasn’t really a fact that bothered him as well, and even if it did there wasn’t much he could do about it anyway. he’s come to accept that he was old, old enough that all his daughters are grown, old enough that he gets a bit cranky if he doesn’t nap enough, old enough that he tries not to indulge in the fantasies of his youth.

EVERY MAN HAS THEIR VICES, HAS THEIR FANTASIES. But being twenty-nine was old for a half-foot, in tallman terms, he’d be the equivalent of maybe in his late forties. Chilchuck has long abandoned those thoughts in his youth, the various kinks and fantasies that would’ve had him rock hard the second the thought entered his mind. He wasn’t going to deny he was a bit dirty minded when he was younger, head filled with all sorts of things he wished he could do. Now, he’s grown, sex has become less of this addictive fuel and more of a scarcity. Given how busy he gets with work and his newfound standoffish nature towards relationships (all that and the divorce), Chilchuck hasn’t really gotten much action lately.

“Hm? You worked up just from kissing, pretty boy?”

Well, maybe not lately.

Because recently he’s met you, some casual fling he’s honestly quite shocked he’s developed, even more shocked he’s able to maintain. It sounded like some cheesy romance cliche when he says it’s simply because you’re not like any other person he’s met, but it’s true. And on top of that, he’s never really had a relationship like this, he never really saw himself as the type to.

Yet here he was, his body rigid as he shakily and gingerly brushes stray locks of hair away from your face, mostly to get a better view of the way you kiss the tip of his cock.

A shudder runs down his spine as he unexpectedly bucks his hips forward, pressing his length towards you. There’s a satisfied noise that leaves your lips as you smile up at him, obviously pleased with his reaction. Not like you weren’t expecting it. Chilchuck had opened up to you in the past that he had really enjoyed getting his dick sucked, and judging by his usual reactions when you two had sex, which wasn’t often really, it was easy to put two in two together that you had him wrapped tightly around your little fingers. The same ones that run down the length of his cock, earning a shaky gasp from the half-foot.

You stick your tongue out, pressing the muscle against his cock, and he bucks his hips again. “H-hey, quit, teasin’” Chilchuck tries to be firm, to puff up his chest and gain some semblance of control, but his voice is shaky, betrays him and gives into the silly fantasies he’s grown to deny himself.

You hum as if in thought, going as far as to tap an index finger against your chin and shutting your eyes. When you finally open your mouth to speak, looking up at to meet his gaze from your place between his thighs, you find your words die in your throat, whatever snarky retort you had long forgotten at the sight of Chilchuck, an uptight, strict middle-aged man who was always maintaining his professionalism, looking so absolutely fucked out.

Want and lust cloud his hazel eyes, half-lidded and peeking through his lashes. His lips are parted, enough for him to pant hungrily and for him to slip his tongue between them in anticipation. His hair is already disheveled, you assume from when you kissed him earlier and with his habit of running a hand through it. You unintentionally stare, studying the way his chest rises and falls with each heavy breath, the way there’s a slight quiver to his lips. And if you stare long enough, you could see the cogs in his little head struggle to compose a coherent thought.

Right now, towering above you from where you kneel, is a Chilchuck you haven’t seen before. One that has quickly come undone from your delicate touch, one that is one sloppy kiss away from pleading with all his heart for you to give him more, one that looks like he’s about to cum just from the way you look at him.

You feel his thumb caress your cheek, the motion startling you and bringing you back to reality. You hum, amused. You like this new version of Chilchuck, and as much as you wanted to push him to his limits, you decide to be merciful, because you get a sense he’ll be gratefully returning the favor as soon as he can.

You keep your eyes on him, watching the way his face contorts as you open your mouth and take in the head of his cock. Chilchuck groans, his back straightening at the contact of your wet mouth against him. He visibly shivers as the hand on your cheek quickly, almost frantically, moves to the crown of your head, entangling itself in your hair, silently coaxing you to give him more. And you do, happily allowing him to guide you further and further down his cock until your nose brushes against the little auburn bush below his navel. 

Chilchuck cusses in a language in another tongue, one you don’t understand or recognize, but has you moaning around his length anyway because of the sheer lust-ridden, profane way it leaves his lips, like ancient prayer to some forgotten god. And before he even has time to cuss or groan or breathe, you hollow your cheeks, sucking around his member with gusto.

Electric shocks shoot up Chilchuck’s spine down to the tips of his fingers and toes. He whines, a pathetic sound he’d have had you sworn not to tell anyone of had he had half the sense to even speak. The noise motivates you, drives you to bob your head up and down his cock, your tongue occasionally pressing against the underside of it as you go.

Chilchuck’s grip on your hair tightens, his mind runs blank, filled only with the consciousness of his cock in your mouth and your tongue on his cock and the pretty way you peek up to look at his face. He’s certain he isn’t going to last any longer, hell, he’s surprised he’s made it this far. With the way you pull almost all the way and leave the tip in your mouth, the way your tongue circles and presses and laps against it, the way you immediately push back down this whole length, he is definitely not going to last any longer.

You speak around his cock, the vibration humming nicely against it, something he somehow convinces himself is you saying his name. Suddenly, he sees white, flashes of moments in and out of consciousness as he gradually comes down from his high. His chest heaves with labored breaths, coming out in little huffs from his drool coated lips.

When he’s somewhat recovered, he looks down, initially to check how you’re doing, but when he finds you with your mouth hanging slightly open, panting, and with strings of thick white stretching all over your face, his words melt into a sharp inhale. He pets your cheek affectionately, still trying to find what words are appropriate to say when you beat him to it, speaking teasingly with a lopsided grin.

“Good boy.”

[yeah-thats-probably-it]

These are awesome thoughts and I've likewise been rotating them in my head for the past couple weeks (uh, closer to a month now). Gonna try to answer this point by point.

Very long post under the cut

How does fem!Bertie end up developing gender-nonconforming tendencies?

Does a fem!Bertie who is easily overpowered by more dominant people and predisposed to anxiety even end up developing a penchant for drinking, misdemeanour, and betting on horses if she would be more punished for it and have less opportunities for it than canon Bertie?

This I think is actually quite easy to resolve. There's a perfect solution ready made in canon and that solution's name is Aunt Dahlia. Aunt D doesn't give a shit whether Bertie ever gets married or how he spends his time as long as she can still strongarm him into performing the occasional spot of grand larceny for her. She isn’t especially proper or feminine herself; she’s brash, loud, and assertive. She drinks and steals and swears and bets on horses. Her motto in life is take no shit and listen to no reason. And from what we know of her younger days doing the British fox a bit of no good, it wouldn’t be unreasonable to think that she might feel a certain kinship with a free spirited, tomboyish young woman and take fem!Bertie under her wing. There’s one story where Tuppy and Angela are in an off-again stage and Tuppy falls for a country girl who Aunt Dahlia describes thusly:

“A dog-girl. One of these dashed open-air flappers in thick boots and tailor-made tweeds who infest the rural districts and go about the place followed by packs of assorted dogs. I used to be one of them myself in my younger days, so I know how dangerous they are.”

If we assume fem!Bertie grew up being passed around between various aunts after her parents died, Aunt Agatha is the one who kept her on a short leash and punished nonconforming behavior. This might have driven her closer to Aunt Dahlia, who served as both a model for less traditional femininity AND a safe haven who let Bertie do whatever. I don’t see Bertie going fox hunting or getting really into all the outdoorsy activities—she’s a city girl at heart—but I do think Aunt Dahlia was someone she looked up to and may have emulated to some extent.

What is her relationship to the stereotypically feminine activities she'd be expected to participate in?

This a bit tougher to answer-- in part because now that I think about it, what do the female characters in these books get up to? We know that Madeline likes to play the piano and sing old folk songs. Florence writes novels. Corky is an actress. Honoria plays tennis. Nobody ever really mentions needlepoint or... a second feminine activity that I'm blanking on right now, as far as I can remember. I'm not really sure how to google this.

[these next two paragraphs were originally written for the next section but I decided they fit better here so that's why I'm suddenly talking about schools] Google gave me a couple names of schools that would be the closest female equivalent to Eton: Cheltenham and Roedean. I found this rather interesting book with some wild tidbits. Apparently in the 1930s Roedean taught bridge and wine tasting? And by 1910 it also had compulsory sports, which is interesting. Upper class girls' schools emphasized charity work. There's a whole section about lesbian relationships between students, which were apparently very common. By the 1900s, many girls' schools were influenced by Cheltenham to adopt the philosophy that girls "should have the same standard and type of education as boys." "Free of the classics, [Cheltenham principal] Miss Beale at first put the emphasis on history and literature. But the curriculum rapidly widened to include all the main academic subjects."

However, "academic standards were much more vitiated by the knowledge that, in a more fundamental way, it was all a total waste of time. They were never going to use any of this knowledge, even if well taught, these rich middle and upper class girls. They were not going to have jobs but babies, husbands, houses. They would benefit a great deal more from needlework, domestic science, and dancing classes--and these were all taught." [ah, dancing, that's the second feminine activity]

Alright, so that's interesting! We've got a couple feminine activities here, and according to this source, at least, it does sound like even upper class girls would have learned some home ec type stuff. So it's possible that fem!Bertie might be slightly less incompetent around household tasks than m!Bertie. I personally don't see her being particularly good at domestic science stuff or needlepoint--too much ADHD, for one thing. Makes too many careless mistakes. Dancing (I assume they mean ballroom dancing) she's probably pretty good at, and m!Bertie took dancing classes as a child too, so that's universal.

Are there any historical figures or traditions she would see herself in or hold dear in the same way that the knightly tradition is vivid in the mind of a male Bertie?

What I was actually looking for when I looked up all that stuff about girls' schools was whether they would have taught the same literature as the boys' schools. Bertie's knightly traditions seem to mostly come from Tennyson's Idylls of the King and various other classics he would have learned in school--but especially Idylls, which Wodehouse was a fan of also and references pretty frequently throughout the series. Perhaps if it wasn't taught in girls' schools, it's still possible that fem!Bertie might have had a brother and might have read HIS books.

In any case, I'm not super familiar with Arthurian legend, so I went to Google to try to dig up any information on whether there was a female character who might instill a comparable code to the code of the Woosters in fem!Bertie. From what I can find there doesn't really appear to be (if anybody with more expertise on the subject reads this, please correct me if I'm wrong). This article says that in some versions of the myths, there's a kind of "mutual chivalry" that emphasizes female agency and consent, where men and women help and support each other in the spirit of friendship, so there could be something in that. But I can't find any sort of general moral code for women directly equivalent to knightly chivalry for men.

Tangentially though, I did find a couple little interesting snippets on my travels. There was apparently one character, Nimue, who was sick of Merlin pursuing her despite her repeated rejections, so she got him to teach her magic and then trapped him in a tree. I could see fem!Bertie thinking about that story rather longingly. I also stumbled upon the fact that in Malory's version, Lancelot "states that he prefers to have no wife or paramours" because "sex with his wife would reduce his vigor in pursuing tournaments and combats." That's a sentiment I can imagine resonating with both m!Bertie AND fem!Bertie, though obviously relating to Lancelot would be more subversive in the latter.

So... in terms of the source of fem!Bertie's moral code, I'm still not really sure. One possibility I thought of just now was that there may be some female Bible characters she particularly looks up to? You might not know this, because he's very humble about it, but Bertie actually won the Scripture Knowledge Prize at his private school, and likes to sprinkle a lot of biblical allusions into his speech. There are a few prominent women in the Bible who are remembered for being kind and brave. Esther and Miriam, just to name the ones I used to LARP around my house as when I was five. Ruth is another-- actually, she might be a really good one. Blessed by God for her kindness AND had some highkey sapphic vibes (I was something of a Scripture Knowledge buff myself, in my day. If you can't tell. Not that my good friend Bertie or I would ever brag about it).

(this probably isn't an "instilling moral values" example, but canon!Bertie mentions Jael, the woman who drove a stake through that guy's head, a few times, and that might be a story that rises up in fem!Bertie's mind when a suitor is annoying her)

Would she have any strong feelings about being a Wooster if she wasn't the last of the Woosters in the patrilinear way?

This I'm not sure about. Seeing as neither version of Bertie wants to marry or have kids, maybe it doesn't really matter that much? The family name isn't getting passed down regardless of whether Bertie's a man or a woman.

Why does Bertie have some mild anxieties about appearing masculine/feminine?

m!Bertie's anxiety about appearing independent seems to me to be at least as much about the appearance of dignity as it is about gender roles. Perhaps fem!Bertie would be worried not just about about appearing traditionally feminine, but appearing feminine in a particular way. Rather than wanting to be seen as tough and commanding like m!Bertie does, maybe fem!Bertie wants to be perceived as elegant, poised, maybe even a little authoritative, a sort of grande dame "lady of the house" type figure with an air of mystique about her. Not aunt-like, but like, cool. You know. The 1920s equivalent of "cool girl." I figure a lady in "one of those historical novels" Bertie likes could just as easily laugh down from lazy eyelids and flick a speck of dust from from the irreproachable Mechlin lace at her wrists as a chap could, and that's a vibe any gender of Bertie would be enchanted with.

And it's also a vibe any gender of Bertie would struggle to cultivate because, I mean, we've met Bertie. S/he's a flailing awkward ADHD failwoman/man. fem!Bertie misses social cues and constantly forgets little details her finishing school would have taught as "proper" behavior. She speaks out of turn, not even really out of self-assuredness but because she's excited about whatever she has to say and forgets herself in the moment. That could lead to a lot of embarrassment.

I bet if we wanted, we could really ramp up the class-based conflict/subversion because of this, because an upper class woman's power primarily comes from being upper class. Short story and early novel Bertie occasionally has moments of "who does Jeeves think he is, bossing me around, I'm not going to be a serf to my valet." He more or less entirely drops this in later novels, but maybe fem!Bertie takes a bit more time getting over it.

Gender subversion in canon

Regarding canon gender subversion, I think you're quite right. On my reread of the books, I've noticed a lot more of that than I remembered. For example, I've noted a lot of jokes where the comedy is derived from Bertie being scandalized by a woman saying saying something he considers to be inappropriate for "mixed company," where the conventional expectation is that you'd find a woman being scandalized by a man making such comments. Here are some of them:

In the Inimitable Jeeves, Aunt A starts talking about how Bertie should be "breeding children" and Bertie complains that she "keeps forgetting she isn't in the smoking-room" of one of her women's clubs.

In CotW, where Madeline starts expounding on Geoffrey Rudel, who was in love with the Lord of Tripoli's wife, and Bertie hopes she's going to keep it clean.

Also in CotW, Aunt Dahlia "fortunately" cuts herself off before using a verb which, "had she given it utterance, might have proved a bit too fruity for mixed company."

In Joy in the Morning, Nobby ticks Boko off using expressions Boko couldn't repeat "with gentlemen present. I suppose they learn them at their finishing schools."

This is one type of joke that definitely wouldn't work as well in a gender-flipped universe, because "not in front of the ladies" isn't subversive in the way that "not in front of the gentlemen" is, it's just the normal expectation.

Expanding on this, and calling back to previous musings about possibly genderbending other characters, I found something really interesting in an article by William Vesterman: x (this article draws some conclusions I find questionable, but also provides some bits of interesting historical context). Basically, Bertie's three most persistent fiancees are actually based on stereotypical male archetypes that were common in Wodehouse's areas of literature.

"The three fiancees here (the roster is very far from complete) present versions in female form of male types long known to public school and university fiction: what the British used to call the "hearty" (Honoria Glossop) and the two forms of the "aesthete"—the emotional (Madeline Bassett) and the intellectual (Florence Craye). Part of the comedy is their lack of any resemblance to the actual stock fictive females within such boys' books. Another aspect of the joke is the forced recollection of the equivalent male stereotypes who do appear in Wodehouse's stories. The main point is that by defining himself through distaste against a range of extreme personalities, male and female, Bertie maintains his own identity all the more fully as normal in his own eyes."

So it might actually be easier to flip Florence, Madeline, etc. than we think.

The point that Bertie considers his own identity to be "normal" is interesting and I think it checks out. We do find many cases of his insisting that he likes the way he is and resents others' attempts to change him. "Defining [her]self through distaste against a range of extreme personalities, male and female" is probably another trait we could just directly transfer to fem!Bertie.

Genderbending Jeeves

Fem!Jeeves would have to be gender non-conforming in a different manner than fem!Bertie, and the challenge in her genderbent characterisation, much like the Code poses a challenge for coming up with a genderbent Bertie, would be to maintain Jeeves's hidebound ways.

Alright, I think we can do this. Let's start by applying the same system as before.

These are what I would name as Jeeves's core character traits: high intelligence, class consciousness, "feudal spirit", desire for stability/uneasiness with change, emotional unexpressiveness, eclectic collection of intense interests, Weird About Clothes, and willingness to manipulate to obtain desired results

For Bertie, I said that the key core trait that makes most of fem!Bertie's personality fall into place is "fun-loving." For Jeeves, I think it's class consciousness. Let's look first at how this trait shapes the original Jeeves's personality, and then at the way it might interact with his/her gender and gender expression.

Jeeves's personality

Jeeves has been a walking anachronism since the moment he was created, something Wodehouse himself has readily admitted (preface to Joy in the Morning). He belongs to the era of big country houses staffed with dozens of servants, before post-WWI tax hikes and later post-WWII social revolution made the upper class' position much less secure. The Jeeves books (other than Ring for Jeeves, which is a topic for another day) take place take place in an idyllic, anodyne version of Edwardian England that never really existed and never changes. Wodehouse seems to find that static, picture-perfect setting comforting and, in my opinion, so too does Jeeves.

I go into this in depth in my WIP analysis of Ring for Jeeves, and for the sake of brevity I won't explain it all again here, but the long and short of it is that Jeeves believes in the class system and wants it to be maintained indefinitely. He finds stability and comfort in a hereditary hierarchy where he knows exactly who he is and where his place is, where he fits in society. If you scratched the stuffed-frog face, I suspect you'd find a surprising amount of anxiety. When he exerts control, it's mainly in order to maintain his stability and keep everything the way he likes it in statu quo, and he does it in a way that works within the framework of maintaining class status. Jeeves's primary identity is "servant." He takes great pride in it and has molded his entire life around excelling in his work.

"He does have a very keen sense for what he can get away with (unless the poetry-or-other-interest-infodumping overrules it), but there are very set rules on what is appropriate, and what isn’t, and he keeps to it, because that’s How Things Are Done"

—tumblr user @noandnooneelse

I don't think this investment in remaining below his employers on the social hierarchy means he thinks the upper classes are like... superior to him necessarily (intellectually, morally, w/e). He obviously doesn't think the rich people he works for are always right or should be deferred to in all matters. (This part is a bit hard for me to explain because it's difficult to get into the mindset of someone who thinks class hierarchy is a good thing). It seems odd for something that's clearly a deeply held and important belief of his to be so surface-level, but it's almost like it's the performance of class that really matters to him. The appearance of it.

Jeeves’s strict view of How Things Are Done applies as much to his employers as it does to himself. Rich people can Perform Class Wrong as much as anyone else, and when that happens, they need to be policed back into "correct" behavior. When Jeeves corrects an employer's performance of class, he will do so in an outwardly polite and deferential manner, because that's How Servants Behave. He'll do anything he thinks he can get away with that doesn’t break the veneer of "proper servant behavior" to keep everyone performing their roles the way he wants them to, but it's all just theater.

Jeeves just wants to live in a world where he gets to perform the same duties for the same types of people in household staffs that are structured the same way and everyone dresses the same way he's always known them to and the conventions of propriety vis-a-vis interacting with people above or below you on the hierarchy remain rigid and precise so he can continue relying on the same scripts forever and ever because he is extremely, extremely autistic.

2. Jeeves and gender

Now, this raises obvious questions about how Jeeves would then view other power structures, like gender roles. Does he care about maintaining the gender hierarchy the way he does about maintaining the class hierarchy? To me, it doesn't really feel like he does. Does he exhibit any gendered behaviors that he seems to be performing for the sake of being masculine? The way he takes control of situations would probably be considered traditionally masculine behavior, but I'd argue he mainly does that a) out of a feudal desire to help his employer or employer's friends or b) to uphold The Way Things Should Be. (Though, it's worth noting that even if an idea of manliness doesn't enter into the why of what he does, Jeeves's maleness certainly DOES make it easier for him to assert dominance like this and be taken seriously. Let's put a pin in that)

Among the core traits I listed, emotional unexpressiveness is the one that's the most stereotypically masculine, so it's worth examining in more detail. Inasmuch as this is something Jeeves does deliberately (and I think it IS at least in part a trained behavior—in "Bertie Changes His Mind" he has to make a conscious effort not to let his disapproval show, for example), it's my opinion that this has much more to do with behaving properly as a servant than it does with behaving properly as a man. There are many times throughout the book where Bertie takes note that Jeeves is silently holding back from expressing emotion out of a sense of feudal propriety. Examples from off the top of my head:

Joy in the Morning: "There was concern in his eyes, and if it hadn't been that his views are rigid in the matter of the correct etiquette between employee and employer, I have an idea that he would have patted me on the shoulder."

Jeeves and the Feudal Spirit: "During the late give-and-take he had been standing in the background with that detached, stuffed-frog look on his face which it always wears when he is present at a free-for-all in which his sense of what is fitting does not allow him to take part."

Much Obliged, Jeeves: "whereas I sang a good deal as we buzzed along, he maintained, as is his custom, the silent reserve of a stuffed frog, never joining in the chorus, though cordially invited to."

On the other hand, aforementioned tumblr user noandnooneelse and I have discussed this matter at some length, and he was more inclined to see it as an aspect of Jeeves's fundamental Jeeves-ness (we ultimately agreed that it’s a little of both). He pointed out that although sometimes strict emotional regulation is expected of servants as a kind of emotional labor, Jeeves's TOTAL lack of emotional responsiveness can also be a liability on the job. How many times have Bertie and Aunt Dahlia ticked him off for saying "most disturbing" when they wanted sympathy for their tales of woe? I think there’s absolutely a lot in that as well, and find it very plausible that in addition to active emotion suppression, Jeeves just naturally tends toward flat affect. And if he's being censured rather than rewarded for the stereotypically masculine behavior, it's probably not something that's been enforced on him as a gender norm. It's also going to be a big problem for fem!Jeeves later. Let's put another pin in that.

Moving on, we never see Jeeves police anyone else's masculinity, either. Or anyone's femininity, for that matter. His issue with Bobbie Wickham wasn't that she had tomboyish tendencies, even though she did, it was that her personality was a bad match for Bertie and also she was a woman Bertie was romantically interested in. His problem with Bertie's purple socks and pink ties is never that they're unmanly, it's that they're garish and in poor taste. And actually, his interest in fashion is something that would stereotypically be considered a feminine trait—and he neither displays any self-consciousness about it nor seems to be deliberately rebelling against gender norms. I just don't get the impression that he really thinks much about gender at all.

I really think Jeeves' concerns about propriety pretty much entirely come down to class propriety. I mean, we know that aside from gender, there are other sets of social norms that Jeeves is fine with ignoring, like, for instance, the LAW. Some might count coshing a policeman in the fucking head as an act of impropriety (not me obviously, ACAB), but Jeeves doesn't give a fuck. Then for the purposes of this AU we are, I assume, taking it as read that Jeeves has no issue with homosexuality. I find that believable. The class system can accommodate gay people and it can accommodate gender equality and gender-nonconformity; two men or two women can live together without any more radical restructuring of the social order needing to take place. Gay is ok provided you're being gay in correct evening costume. As long as the signifiers of class are all present and correct, who carre.

3. Jeeves and gender (female version)

So, like fem!Bertie, I don't picture fem!Jeeves caring all that much about gender rules for their own sake. Seeing as she's presumably uninterested in the kind of lifestyle conservative antifeminist women typically espouse—i.e. woman is protected and provided for by husband whom she serves and obeys—traditional gender roles aren't providing her with a sense of identity or purpose in the way the class hierarchy does. They're just making it more difficult for her to control and stabilize her environment. So I don't think she would oppose advances in women's rights, unless for some reason she thought some specific advancement could destabilize the class system somehow. An extremely cursed thought that just popped into my head is "she wants to vote so she can vote Tory." That’s the vibe here. I'm sorry, but Jeeves just IS a Tory voter. Yes, he is. Yes, he is. It gives me no pleasure to say it, but acceptance is the first step towards healing.

I think fem!Jeeves wouldn't care about whether Bertie's behavior is appropriate for a woman so much as whether it's appropriate for an upper class woman specifically (and even more specifically, an upper class woman from the golden age of class dynamics in the picture-perfect idyllic version of England that Jeeves holds up as the ideal). As long as the gender-nonconforming behavior in question isn't particularly associated with the lower classes, go with god.

4. Jeeves's personality (female version)

She's going to have a tougher time of it than m!Jeeves for a variety of reasons, not least of which is that it’s just harder to be a woman. Her situation is inherently less stable because women are expected to find stability through marriage primarily. She's paid less and taken less seriously. She might be more anxious than m!Jeeves about her job security and financial stability. Taking down our pin about Jeeves's maleness making it possible to assert dominance in a way a woman probably couldn't—we've discussed the potential ambiguity around m!Jeeves's supposed no-married-gentlemen policy, but fem!Jeeves DEFINITELY has a no-married-ladies policy. She cannot micromanage a household over which she doesn't have total control, and total control will be significantly more difficult to achieve in a household that has any men in it.

Now let's take down our other pin about emotional expressiveness. m!Jeeves's flat affect is received with annoyance sometimes, but ultimately tolerated because of his otherwise irreproachable performance at his job and ability to solve everyone's problems. I imagine it's a much bigger hindrance to fem!Jeeves, as seems very likely to me that a maid would have a higher expectation on her to be comforting and warm and sympathetic toward her employers' woes than a manservant would. Failure to do this would draw greater censure than an irritable "Could you say something other than 'most disturbing?'" even if she's otherwise outstanding at her job. Possibly when she's working for a single woman she can get away with it, but Jeeves is a lifelong career servant, and you don't get to be the sole servant to a rich gentleman or lady without making a good impression working in larger household staffs first.

I therefore think that unlike m!Jeeves, fem!Jeeves has at least a limited ability to smile and kind of emote and project the impression of warmth and sympathy. She neither likes nor is comfortable with it, but she wouldn't have risen through the ranks of servants without it. m!Jeeves already has a quiet, polite demeanor and an ability to melt into the background, but fem!Jeeves exaggerates this even more, cultivating a service persona that's not just polite and quiet but maybe even outright demure in an effort to come across as humble rather than cold (and in the hopes of simply being overlooked when the mistress needs a shoulder to cry on).

(It's worth noting, though, that manufacturing warmth isn't the same thing as manufacturing caring. Feudal spirit is a core character trait too, and there isn't time to get into all the things "feudal spirit" can mean right now, but my point here is that she wants to help! She likes helping! She's just going to be an autistic weirdo while doing it!)

5. Employers: management of

As a result of all this, fem!Jeeves is necessarily more covert in the way she operates than her canon counterpart, and leans even more on loopholes and subtle manipulation to work around the restrictions imposed on her. She definitely knows how to weaponize sexist stereotypes to make people underestimate her. She's better and more consistent about playing fake-deferential and working behind the curtain than m!Jeeves is. Most of the targets of her manipulation never find out what hit them.

I'm reminded of this story I found once (screenreader-friendly version here) when I wanted to find out more about Arthur Conan Doyle's views on women's rights (the answer is that they were mixed, if you were wondering). Basically, a woman has made up her mind to buy a new gray dress, but she wants to make her husband feel like she cares about his opinion on the matter, even though she doesn't. So she guides him through this whole back-and-forth where she asks him what color dress she should buy, and shoots down all his suggestions while saying stuff like "oh, you're so smart and full of good taste and impeccable opinions, it's just that..." They eventually agree that she should buy a gray dress, and it was ALL his idea!! Canon Jeeves does quite a bit of this sort of thing already, but fem!Jeeves is the master of it.

Or at least, she WAS the master of it until she met Bertie's special blend of stubbornness and cluelessness.

"What color would you like for your new dress, miss?" "Any color but gray. I can't bear gray." "What would you suggest, miss? I should like to provide the tailor with your exact specifications." "A cheerful pink, I should think. Say, that rhymed! I always say there's no color like a nice bright pink to herald in the spring with vim and vigor. What was that gag of yours? The rainbow comes and goes and lovely is the rose, what?" "What taste you have, miss. Of course it shall be pink if you wish it. Only, do you not suppose it may draw a little too much attention? One does not like to be so conspicuous." "I shouldn't worry about that, old thing! What’s the purpose of wearing a new dress if not to be noticed?" "..." "I say, Reg, do you suppose you could ask the tailor to sew the hemline a little higher this time? I saw a moving picture last night where the girl was wearing the most corking short skirt. Nobby says they're all the rage in Hollywood now, and I dare say she would know.” "...Very good, miss." "Rummy how the tailor keeps forgetting that part. Do you fancy I'd better write it down?"

I think this slightly altered dynamic might help with the problem of whether it would be as funny to see fem!Bertie, who already has to hide her independent streak, submit to her servant's whims and scheming. If we're looking at a Jeeves whose habitual methods of scheming are more covert and hidden, we'll probably see fewer head-to-head clashes and more cases of Jeeves grinding her teeth as Bertie blithely blows past multiple attempts to corral her behavior and forces Jeeves to resort to increasingly less subtle tactics than she would prefer.

sopping wet bertie wednesday

[joemomrgneissguy]

Reading a post about how scientists in ancient Alexandria calculated the Earth's circumference, one particular detail stood out to me:

His next course of action was to hire bematists, surveyors of the time whose professional specialty was to measure distance by walking with equal length steps. They measured a distance between Alexandria and Syene of about 5000 stadia. (Guess where the word stadium comes from.) Once he had that measurement, Eratosthenes did his math-y thing, and there you have it.

People conceive of science as Eratosthenes and his calculations, but the surveyors are doing science here. And, in my experience, a lot of scientific work is more their sort of domain: careful, methodical, repetition of measurements and procedures, without having a hand on the calculations yourself.

Imagine you have been hired to walk mile upon mile upon mile through the desert and count every step. You devise some system of keeping track (and maybe of going in a decently straight line), and you set off. It's hot, and dusty, and probably lonely at times. It isn't glamorous work. It isn't that fun or interesting even to you. But, with each footfall, you are forming our understanding of the world.

I've recently been doing hydrology work (and work with geophysical surveying has felt the same way), where I'm standing in a canal that is barely a foot deep making measurement after measurement wondering if it's all worth it when I get back to the office at the end of the day. And, thinking on those surveyors, I think it is.

After all, boring science makes the world go round.

[hellofriendhawke]

yes yes i know a chapter should end at wherever the author feels is appropriate of course or just however much they want to write, I'm asking how much are you, a reader, most comfortable reading for a single chapter. Like if I had a 250k fic fully written out would you prefer I divide it into five 50k word chapters or fifty chapters all about 5k in size?

[diminuel]

I did some doodling, now the plan is to get dressed, move the guinea pigs to their outside enclosure, make a cup of tea and write 1000 words of Lord of Amara.

After that I'll draw a Stinky Child comic page, then another 1000 words etc until I'm at hopefully 5000 words which I feel is an acceptable chapter length. I don't know how much story will happen but admittedly, we're in a bit of a "anything could happen" stretch of the LoA story. I know what happens but not exactly how I'm going to get there... Which is a bit scary >w<;

Edit 1: Got a bit carried away and did 2600 words. Half of the chapter done! (In terms of word count goal...)

Edit 2: Six pages of Stink Child comic done (since I wrote over 2000 words I allowed myself to draw 2 pages.) 5 more to go. But now it's fic writing time again. 1000 words. Let's go!

Edit 3: Got to 4000 words, then had dinner, now I'm drawing another comic page.