always go with suspenders

I’m sorry, I just keep on thinking about a Jeeves and Wooster modern AU and I need to share my feelings soooooooo…..


The millennial Drones would all have their livelihood/passions/income revolve around social media, since that’s the modern equivalent of the no-good-lazy-spoiled-kids-who-won’t-get-a-proper-job-like-their-parents trope. Like, Gussie Fink-Nottle has an instagram, tumblr and facebook account for every single one of his newts, Tuppy Glossop’s a food blogger etc. Gentlemens’ clubs aren’t really a thing for the younger set, so their meeting place is a pub NAMED The Drones, where they socialise and loaf about, sharing selfies and memes and other no-good-lazy-millenial stuff.

Bertie would be big on Youtube and Vine, known for quirky music, comedy and anecdotes, sort of a mix of Phil Lester and Jon Cozart. He’d perform the ludicrous pop songs of today as well as musical theatre - not only Lin-Manuel Miranda and Disney tunes but WELL LEGIT Gershwin and Berlin and`Porter. His friends would all ask him to sing Rat Pack standards at their weddings which he gladly does pro bono.

Jeeves would have gotten himself a scholarship to Cambridge (reading law and philosophy) and wound up as a solicitor, since his calling is basically solving other peoples’ problems and disputes. He would earn himself a reputation as the best of the best and be sought after by peers of the realm and CEOs of large companies for Delicate Matters. Unlike Bertie, who takes to this era like a thingummy to water, Jeeves is still something of an anachronism: impeccable old-fashioned manners, formal speech for all occasions (he even calls the cashier at Pret-A-Manger ‘madam’), and never goes out in public without wearing a button-up shirt & necktie. He has typical Generation Xer stand-offish cynicism, deftly packaged in dapper-as-fuck tactfulness.

I can imagine Bertie, having just gotten over his breakup with Ginger (the cad left him for Magnolia), would meet Jeeves whilst house-sitting for one of the Drones in some fashionable Zone 1 / 2 neighborhood (say Chelsea or Fulham). Jeeves has the flat across the hall and Bertie runs into him while trying to take out the rubbish bins (and failing). Jeeves, of course, effortlessly sets everything to rights, and perceiving how clueless Bertie is in day-to-day maintenance of a household, comes over every day to assist him (and not because Bertie is the most adorable wide-eyed cherub of a twink he’s ever seen - perish the thought!)

As Bertie is a magnet for drama, the neighbours in the building and his fellow Drones inevitably fall upon him with all of their problems - some involving romance, but others involving compromising photos going viral, public gaffes where politically incorrect remarks are uttered, etc. Jeeves and Bertie schlep around modern-day London having light-hearted adventures solving all of these problems. Bertie regales his subscribers with the stories of these adventures, going on and on about how wonderful Jeeves is. In the general on-line community, comparisons are drawn between Bertie’s vlog and the blog belong to the boyfriend of that ‘Hat Detective’ on Baker St.

When the time comes for Bertie to leave the flat he was caretaking, he coyly asks Jeeves if he would take Bertie on as a client at his practice. Jeeves refuses, stating that his principles forbid him to date anyone he’s professionally involved with. It takes Bertie half a day to figure out that Jeeves has asked him out.

From there it’s fluff and music and roses and bickering. They get their flat together in Mayfair and Jeeves feels no reserve about scolding Bertie for leaving bath towels on the floor and dirty dishes in the sink. His sweet otherwordly Bertram is a slovenly man-child who he manages to train. Somewhat. Eventually a kitten is adopted because REG HE’S SO CUTE HE FOLLOWED ME HOME LOOK AT HIS LITTLE FACE CAN WE GO DOWN TO BATTERSEA AND GET HIM A PLAYMATE OH PLEEEEASE I’LL PROMISE TO CLEAN THE LITTER TRAY AND GIVE YOU HEAD WHENEVER YOU WANT IT

Also he once tried to convince Jeeves to come with him to the Brinkley Court Halloween Party dressed in drag as Elphaba and Glinda, but Jeeves “mixed up “ the order to the online costume shop, so they went in Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff robes instead.

They spend rainy weekends playing the piano and cooking and exchanging bants and bargaining about fashion choices and having fantastic sex. To their friends they are ‘Bertie and Reg’ and they are like, omigod, the cutest couple eveerrrr, ikr

Aunt Dahlia is the P-Flag auntie, having been the first person that Bertie came out to. She has always hoped that her young blot will find a good man who can keep him in check (Jeeves is heaven sent to her), while Agatha is the homophbic aunt.

AGATHA: Bertie. You must marry and have children.

BERTIE: For the thousandth time, Aunt Agatha, I’m gay. As much as you wish otherwise, that Lord Arran fellow assured the Empire’s assent of my sexual orientation while you were still in knee socks and fawning over Cliff Richard.

AGATHA: It is a childish phase. It will pass once I find a woman of good breeding who can mould you.

BERTIE: Aunt Agatha–

AGATHA: Mould. You.

She lives in Belgravia and despises smartphones.

Thankfully the 21st Century edition of The Code of The Woosters impels Bertie to tell any prospective female that being affianced to him is inadvisable for multiple reasons.

Also Lady Florence is an SJW hipster and political lesbian who lives in Shoreditch with her girlfriend Honoria. She takes every opportunity to criticise Bertie for drinking sugary Starbucks lattes and wearing T shirts with licensed cartoon characters on them. Bertie often wonders why the hell he’s friends with her.

Bertie’s other queer friends are Bingo (the ultimate panromantic), Catsmeat (just your average theatre geek with a libido the size of Soho) and cousin Eustace (not so much a friend as a tagalong, always getting suspended for hitting on his professors). They sometimes go to G-A-Y, where they are consistently ignored by all the cool clubbers, opting to drink and watch drag shows and throw beer nuts at each other. Marion Wardour is Bertie’s gal pal and sometimes she comes along too, with the aim of hooking up with bi guys (and occasionally bi girls). Otherwise, she’s off singing in fringe musicals.

Spode is a member of UKIP and his wife Madeleine writes awful Winnie the Pooh fanfiction.

tokiistheking  asked:

oop i have another headcanon for you, but this time for snakes n' barrels! pickles, bullets, and tony always going up to sammy and snapping his suspenders and running off laughing cause they know he can't do anything back. and sammy getting all upset, cause that shit hurts. i don't... know how interested you are in them but i thought i'd share anyway lol.

Pickles, you douchebag.

anonymous asked:

Valgrace headcanons?

Jason is always going on about how dorky Leo’s suspenders are but maybe kinda secretly adores them and is upset if Leo doesn’t wear them.

Leo getting stressed out about an invention of his not working right but always feels better after a pep talk from Jason and seeing his smile.

Jason just melting when he sees Leo give him a really smile for once.

Leo getting really injured and Jason never leaving his side the whole time.

Okay let’s be real….. Leo buying Jason a Captain America hoodie and then is always stealing it from his bf.

Leo’s nose accidentally lighting on fire when he sees Jason training shirtless. (Literally good for any pairing with Leo honestly)

Jason “tells you how cute Leo is every five seconds” Grace

Leo and Jason doing the chapstick challenge cause “It looks fun and it’s totally not a excuse to make out with my bf, seriously stop laughing Piper.”

These Things Never Go as Planned || Open RP

The rope was tight, Natasha could feel it burning into her skin as she hung there with her arms suspended above her head, feet dangling several inches above the floor. Work lately had gotten scarce for obvious reasons, but she was getting by. Unfortunately now when it came to tight situations there was no back up, no one she could call for help. Not that she couldn’t handle the situation she was in, but she wasn’t exactly in the best situation at current either. Still she’s pretty certain she’s been in worse.

Why do I always end up in these situations? Also really not binding my legs at all? Idiots.

A door opens and she listens to footsteps entering and drawing closer as she tries to ignore the strain in her muscles from being suspended as she was. The footsteps have a voice, spouting the usual that comes with this kind of territory. We know who you are, we’ve caught you, blah blah and so on. It makes Natasha’s eyes roll as she watches her captor.

Come on just a little closer.

This guy really likes the sound of his own voice, most of the time they tend to. Very rarely has she met a bad guy who doesn’t. He gets closer, but then moves back again before she can do anything. Silently she swears and waits, hands balled into tense fists. He steps in again and lingers long enough.

Without warning she swings her legs up and around the man’s neck. It startles him and he tries to escape, but she holds on tight and pulls him in. “Clearly you’ve never done this before.” She grunts out while working to loosen the rope tied about her wrists. “If you’re going to suspend someone, always tie their legs and weigh them down so they can’t use them.” Though her advice would be pointless. The second her hands were free she used them to put an end to the man, breaking his neck as she let go of him, letting his lifeless form fall to the floor.

“Now to find an exit.” Grabbing her weapons from a nearby table, the Black Widow moved to the door, checked down the hallway and then proceeded out into it decided to go left.