Jeeves & Wooster fic: Reggie and Wooster

Title: Reggie and Wooster
Fandom: PG Wodehouse's Jeeves and Wooster
Rating: PG
Word Count: 3,791
Notes: A while ago (a long while ago), tardis80 suggested an AU where Jeeves was the master and Bertie was the valet. It's just taken me a dreadfully long time to finish it. Thanks to phoebesmum for betaing and suggesting the word "hitherto". I need an excuse to write "hitherto" in more of my stories.
Summary: At first glance Wooster appears to be a reasonable Gentleman's gentleman. His collar is ironed, his dark suit simple but well-pressed, and a bowler hat sits upon his head, although the style does not suit him terribly well.

( Reggie and Wooster )

SGA Insta-rec: Until Love Can Find Me

There are certain stories I fall hard for. I love the ones that stretch over time, that start with the character feeling isolated and more than a little broken, and show them living and experiencing the thrill of attraction and the scared-excitement of letting someone new in and trying something different, and end all hopeful. It possibly says a bit about my personality but when I'm feeling upbeat, I love the hopefulness of these stories (and when I'm feeling down, I *completely* understand and personalise the touch of angst, and that eventually happy-ending is exactly what I need).

Now, okay, this is a long-winded lead-up, but I'm getting to the rec. It's Until Love Can Find Me by isagel (although I could now call her [Bad username or site: isagel title= @ livejournal.com] thanks to that new LJ code!). It's set in the Vegas-AU (episode 5.19) and it really is lovely.

The descriptions are gorgeous and very personal. They're clear and clean, and the phrasing makes you feel like you're right inside John's head, feeling the confusion, the slight disconnect from the world around him, the tenuous link to Rodney growing stronger and then the jittery, frightening excitement of something brand new starting.

His new apartment is small and dingy, the air stifling before he opens the window. He settles on the old wooden floor beneath it, his back against the wall, and looks at his empty bedroom. Outside, night-time rain is falling, finger-picking its chords on the window-ledge. The lights of passing cars sweep across his Johnny Cash poster, just pinned to the opposite wall.

It's the type of story I fall hard for -- feeling the character go through their life, living the slight shifts that add up to big important changes in the long run, tasting that optimistic hope for better things that the story ends with -- and it was a fantastic read.


"I didn't intend this," he says. "I pushed for something to break, but this wasn't what I wanted."

"Yeah," John says. His voice sounds choked to his own ears. He doesn't say, maybe that's where the fracture had to be, for the bone to be set right.