tgarnsl

[tgarnsl]

first base is ripping each other's throats out second base is fucking and then pretending it didn't happen after it's over. third base is falling unconscious from blood loss in the other's arms

[tgarnsl]

happy 249th birthday you miserable little man

[tgarnsl]

I'm trying to comprehend how Bush and Hornblower spent 100 pounds each over 2 days in Kingston.

[tgarnsl]

A little elaboration on that weird little girl concept ✨✨

I don’t honestly know what the historiographical trends were in this era regarding the Anglo-Spanish war but it’s funny to think of her as pointedly refusing to give England credit for that victory in typical self-deprecating fashion

The vicar’s wife thinks she has “musician’s hands” and tried to teach her the pianoforte 😀

[tgarnsl]

"You don't know me. I'm not the same person anymore."

"That's okay. I'll get to know you again."

[tgarnsl]

WIP Not Wednesday

Flight of the Heron, canon divergence AU where Ewen is executed at Carlisle and Keith and Alison are left to pick up the pieces. Inspired by @chiropteracupola reposting Heron art tonight. Sanguinity, you have seen this before.

—

When they reached the building that housed the cells at last, Alison pulled her earasaid closer around herself, recalling nightmares of Ewen trapped in some dank, crowded prison, slowly dying of neglect like the poor prisoners of Inverness.

“It is alright, my lady,” said Windham gently, turning to her. “You need not be frightened. Ardroy is in his own cell, and a surgeon has attended to him.” But his words did little to soothe her as they entered the prison.

Ewen did not stir when the gaoler drew back the bolt to allow Windham and Alison into his cell. He lay curled on his side facing away from the door, his dirty plaid drawn tight around his shoulders, and Alison pressed her hand to her mouth, scarcely able to look upon him in so pitiful a condition.

“Ardroy,” said Windham, kneeling beside the palliasse of straw to touch Ewen’s shoulder. He stirred a little at Windham’s voice and turned.

“Keith?” he murmured, and Alison wondered at all that had passed between them that he should use Windham’s Christian name so readily. “What is’t?” Keith turned to Alison and Ewen’s gaze followed. He gave a little cry as he saw her standing there, and struggled to sit upright, but she was at his side before he could get very far.

“Hush, mo chridhe, lay still,” she said, pressing a hand to his forehead and cheeks. He was warm to the touch, his eyes bright with fever, but he was alive… Alison bowed her head and thanked God that they had been reunited before it was too late.

“Oh, Alison,” said Ewen, and Alison saw that there were tears in his eyes. “I thought to never see you again on this earth, my heart’s darling.”

“Your friend wrote to me,” she said, for how could he and Major Windham be anything otherwise now? “Thank you,” she added, turning to Windham.

“I owe more to your husband than any small action on my part can repay,” said Keith, rising to his feet. “I will grant you some privacy, Lady Cameron. Should you have need of me, speak with the gaoler, and he will send for me.” He left, and with him went Alison’s strength. She stretched herself out beside Ewen, her head pillowed on his shoulder, and put her arms around him as though somehow she might shield him from all that was to come.

[tgarnsl]

Fanfic Writers: Director’s Cut

Reblog this if you want readers to come into your ask box and ask for the “director’s commentary” on a particular story, section of a story, or set of lines. 

Or, send in a ⭐star⭐  to have the author select a section they’ve been dying to talk about!

[tgarnsl]

West Indies apparently starring Captain von Thirst Trapp and a Barbara who looks like she’s straight out of Seven Brides for Seven Brothers…

Sure is. Something.

things that are not on archive.org as far as I can tell:

the 1950s hornblower movie I am trying to watch

things that are on archive.org:

a version of west indies with the worst cover art I've ever seen

a making-of book about the tv series that looks to be genuinely interesting

something from 'horatio nelson records' that includes part of the soundtrack from the movie (was unaware that lady barbara's theme comprises a 'hit from the silver screen' but apparently that is the case)

this*

*nsfw. headphones recommended and also I preemptively apologize for. uh. well.

[tgarnsl]

Vow of silence...

[tgarnsl]

Ask game for people who like to ramble about their obsessions. So.

SEND ME A FANDOM (+ number) AND I WILL TELL YOU...

...the moment in the story that I started shipping my OTP from this world.

...my three favorite characters and why I love them so much.

...which scene I would like to erase from the universe and why.

...why you should choose to check out the world of this story and choose three gifs that should underline my point.

...the scene from it that lives in my head rent free.

...which is my favorite platonic or familial relationship in this world.

...how likely I am to follow the writers and directors from this project to their other ones and why.

...a quote from it that means a lot to me.

...which characters I think should have interacted more in canon.

...how many fics I've read that are set in it (approximately and making exaggerated guesstimates).

...what I think of the central character(s).

...what attracted me into checking it out.

...which canon or popular fanon relationship I can't stand or feel 'meh' about and why.

...if I think the largest majority of fics I crave for it are fix-its, nobody-dies-everybody-lives, fluffy fics of my OTP, pining fics for my OTP, or plot heavy Gen stories?

...which character I would choose for the chopping block if I knew the writers wanted to kill someone.

...which character's death would (or did) make me rage-quit.

...the world-building aspect of the story I have the greatest admiration for.

...the perfect number of books/seasons/movies needed to tell this story properly.

...one behind-the-scenes trivia fact I've learned somewhere and my thoughts on it.

...exactly how little or how much headspace this fandom takes up in my brain at any given point.

SEND ME A SHIP (+ number) AND I WILL TELL YOU...

...about my absolute favorite of their scenes and why I love it so much.

...why I do or don't ship them.

...if there's a scene involving them that makes me uncomfortable.

...how many other characters in my opinion see the chemistry of this couple before the couple itself does.

...the three most perfect OTP tags that I can come up with for them.

...what kind of AU fics I'm obsessed with reading about them (or would be if I could find one).

...the scene that I like to point to as proof that they're perfect for each other.

...if I'm most interested in fics about them that focus on fluff, angst, humor, smut or actual plot?

...what my ideal endgame for them is.

...rate the level of stupid they reach in their pining.

...how quickly I started shipping them when I got into the fandom.

...about three of the scenes that make me have feelings and (if available) find the gifs that underline my points.

...if I can watch them in relationships with other characters without feeling gutted.

...which tropes I think describe them the best.

...how I wish their story would go/would have gone.

...three of my fic recs for this ship. And (in the event that I've written something for them) one of my fics involving them that I'm most proud of.

...three of my favorite fanvids for this ship. And (in the event that I've created something for them) one of my videos involving them that I'm most proud of.

...three of my favorite fanart or edits for this ship. And (in the event that I've created something for them) one of my art or edits involving them that I'm most proud of.

...if this is a ship that's likely to take up room in my heart for years and decades to come or if they're the summer romance that will probably fade into the past with a fond memory.

...how and when they should get/should have gotten together.

SEND ME A CHARACTER (+ number) AND I WILL TELL YOU...

...why I love them, like them or hate them.

...how I would have chosen to change their story from canon.

...if I have an OTP for them.

...if I have NOTP for them.

...if I feel like the writers mistreat them or if the story would be better if they were taken down a peg.

...the scene that I think shows just how awesome they really are.

...the scene that I think adds depth to their character or the relationship this character has with someone.

...a headcanon I have about this character.

...which of their relationships I would have cultivated more if it were up to me (both romantic and platonic).

...if I liked them immediately or if took a while before I warmed up to their character. Alternatively, if I disliked them immediately or if they lost my trust as their story progressed.

...how well I actually understand them. Do they feel like a very vivid character to me or are they kind of bland and hard to get invested in?

...how likely I am to seek out (or write) fanfiction for them.

...how I'd do it if they had to be written out of the story.

...what I think they want more than anything else.

...what I think their role in the story is versus what I think it should be.

...my very shallowest of opinions on this character.

...how well they'd do if they got dropped in a horror movie.

...whether or not I would personally trust them to be my friend.

...a song that describes how I feel about this character.

...my queer headcanon for them. Unless they're canonically queer, in which case whether or not I think they're good representation or kinda badly explored.

[tgarnsl]

[DAZED FROM BLOOD LOSS] hey not to kill the vibe completely but i think i am in love with you

[tgarnsl]

older Hornblower/Bush my beloved,,

[tgarnsl]

Also hey look it's the lads! (Hornblower on the left? and Bush on the right? I think? It's them in some order according to the caption)

[tgarnsl]

important announcement!! based on this post by @werewolfetone

[tgarnsl]

well i want someone to talk to 24/7 to drag around and go places with me and maybe it’s codependency mixed with desire but i just want someone to stick with me for life

[tgarnsl]

hi! Fake Married for the wip game :)

This is for Flight of the Heron, where Keith saves Ewen's life after the Battle of Culloden by claiming they're married so Ewen can get medical treatment. Technically I also have another fake married (or fake engaged) story for Hornblower, but that's a whole modern au thing where Hornblower is the Prince of Wales.

—

It was pain that roused him. Bright, sharp pain, coursing through his body, drawing him to the surface, drawing him through its silver skin, and he cursed and raged and shook against the hands that held him down, but he could neither break free, nor retreat. Slowly, the world pieced itself together again, fragments fitting together like shattered pieces of a windowpane until at last he could see clearly. He lay in a bed, half propped up on pillows, gasping for air as a surgeon in a wiry grey wig tied off a bandage on his left thigh. Where was he? The white-washed room was small and warm, nothing like… His breath caught in his lungs and a great shudder rolled through him.

Presently — though he was not quite aware how presently — it was brought to his attention that the surgeon was speaking to someone. A redcoat officer stood before the fire, his back turned to where Ewen lay, but Ewen did not need to see the soldier’s face to recognise who it was. The man stood before him was none other than Keith Windham of the Royal Scots.

So he was to be interrogated then. There could be no other explanation for Windham’s presence in this room: the Elector’s generals sought to question Ewen, and believed that a man with whom he was already acquainted was the best one to conduct such an interrogation. His hands clutched at the bedsheets. He would not do it. No word would pass from his lips that he did not wish to give, not even if they flogged him, or put him back in that foetid cell with all the other wounded and dying. No, he would die before he broke faith. His lower lip was trembling and he bit it hard, shutting his eyes against the torrent of grief and despair that sought to drown him.

When he roused again, it was to an urgent voice in his ear calling his name and a rough hand on his cheek.

“Ardroy,” said the voice again. “Ewen!”

He groaned and opened his eyes. Keith Windham stood over him, peering at him with great concern.

“No,” he murmured through cracked lips. “Leave me be.”

“Ardroy, you must listen,” said Windham insistently, but Ewen ignored him, his eyes sliding shut as sleep drew him closer. “Ardroy, wake up!” A hand smacked his cheek lightly and he roused with a groan.

“Pòg mo thòin,” murmured Ewen, his head swimming from pain and thirst.

“I presume that was an insult,” said Windham sharply. “I may well deserve it, too. Ardroy, listen to me. I must know — did you wed Miss Grant?”

It was like being thrown from a carriage. “What?” asked Ewen, trying to clear his head. “Miss Grant — Alison?”

“Yes,” said Windham. “Did you wed her?”

Ewen shook his head. “No,” he said. “No, I — she left for France.” He could still see her standing proud at the side of the ship, one arm raised in farewell, as it took her away to safety. “I would not see her a widow before her time.”

Windham frowned. “Truly, Ardroy, I am sorry,” he said, glancing away. “I cannot tell if it makes what I say next better or worse.”

Fear gripped Ewen’s heart. “Alison, is she—” he gasped, struggling to sit up.

“No, no,” said Windham, laying a hand on Ewen’s shoulder. “I have no news of her, nor of anyone else. I…” He broke off, his frown deepening. “Do you recall how you came to be here? How I found you?”

Ewen bit his lip, struggling to recall. “The parade,” he said, and turned away. He could recall little in truth, ravaged as he had been by weakness and fever, but he remembered well enough the cruel laughter of the Hanoverian officers when he had fallen, unable to walk. “But how…?”

“I said you were my husband,” answered Keith Windham. His cheeks were flushed, and he would not meet Ewen’s eyes. “I am sorry. I could see no other way of saving your life.”

[tgarnsl]

may i ask about the hornblower fic?

It started out years ago as a sequel to my fic Across the Line, but I realised recently that I want to make it a standalone fic set during Hornblower and the Crisis. tl;dr: after Hotspur sinks (conveniently for Forester to get Bush onto Temeraire for Trafalgar), Hornblower and Bush run into each other in London. Hornblower is getting ready to go on his little spy trip to Spain, while Bush is petitioning the Admiralty to please find him a post (and is unsuccessful). They end up lodging together (and there is Only One Bed) and end up catching feelings for each other, despite their best efforts.

tl;dr: Hornblower and the Crisis only the crisis is bisexuality

Snippet below:

—

It had rained some time in the afternoon while Bush had sat in the waiting room; the air was fresh, the sharp scent of London dampened by the rain, and Bush breathed it in deeply, relieved to be free from the stuffy confines of the Admiralty. The streets and buildings were glistening in the harsh light of the afternoon sun and he was forced to shield his eyes as he hurried across the forecourt to where Hornblower had promised to meet him.

It was strange how he could recognise Hornblower in a crowd: that gangling walk, the angular set of shoulders; there was no one else who moved like that. Bush smiled as Hornblower approached, but his smile quickly faded at the sight of Hornblower’s expression; his face bore that bleak, lonely look he so often wore in moments of great distress, and it grieved Bush to see it now.

“There you are,” said Hornblower, his tone brusque and cold. “Any news?”

“None, sir,” said Bush.

Hornblower snorted. “I suppose efficiency is too much to ask of them,” he said. “I thought that by today—” He shook his head. “Never mind that. You’ll find out soon enough, I’m sure.” He pulled off his cocked hat and ran a hand through his short curls.

“Your hair,” said Bush, startled into discourtesy. “Sir—”

Hornblower replaced his hat on his head. “I know,” he said. “It had to be done.”

Bush could only stare, as though the man standing before him was not one he recognised. British sailors wore their hair long, tied back in a queue: it had always been that way and as far as Bush was concerned it should always stay that way. Short hair was a touch too Republican for Bush’s liking; it put him in mind of the French, and he could not fathom wishing to look like the French. It was strange to see short hair on Hornblower; his hair had never been long, barely to the shoulders, but it had always had a wonderful softening effect on Hornblower’s angular features — without it the youthful boyishness was gone, his face older and harder. Here was a man who had spent all his adult years in war; the brightness that had once illuminated his face now vanished, and a strange sorrow stirred in Bush’s breast to see it gone.

“Sir,” he said again, and Hornblower grimaced.

“I know,” he said, seizing Bush by the elbow. “Come along, we should find somewhere to eat.”

Bush allowed himself to be guided out from beneath the gate of the Admiralty and onto Whitehall. This sudden change in Hornblower’s appearance brought to the surface half a dozen other odd details Bush had observed over the preceding weeks but not taken systematic notice of: the secrecy that surrounded Hornblower’s daily activities, the business with the French brig, Hornblower’s nightmares of Spain… Villeneuve was in Ferrol, Bush remembered suddenly: Ferrol, where Hornblower had been prisoner for two years. He swallowed hard, the magnitude of what he had stumbled upon suddenly revealing itself to him. He did not know the details, but he could piece together enough: Hornblower was going to Spain, perhaps to spy on Villeneuve and his fleet. Bush disliked espionage — to his mind, it was the sort of business better suited to unscrupulous Italian Papists than to honest Englishmen — but he also knew the cost of war. It was, perhaps, not unlike a cutting-out expedition: risking a small number of lives so that a more direct confrontation might be avoided. If Hornblower succeeded in whatever his mission might be, the lives of many good might be saved, perhaps even Bush’s.

“When do you leave, sir?” Bush asked, greatly daring.

Hornblower kept his surprise carefully guarded, but Bush could see he was startled. “Tomorrow,” he said.

Tomorrow! Bush did his best to appear unperturbed, but he struggled. Tomorrow was too soon — he was not ready to say farewell.

“I see, sir.”

Hornblower fixed him with a look. “Do you?” he asked, stopping in his tracks and releasing Bush’s elbow.

Bush nodded. “Let me buy your supper, sir,” he offered, before the opportunity slipped by. “I know of a chop-house not far from here that does a nice bit of beef.” He grasped Hornblower’s arm. “Allow me to do that, at least.”

He couldn’t really afford it, and it would mean he would go hungry for the rest of the week, but that didn’t matter, not where Hornblower was concerned.

Hornblower was fighting it — that much was obvious from his expression — but at last he cleared his throat awkwardly. “Very well, then,” he said, and nodded. “After you.”