#charles orrock

[silverfoxstole]

An utterly pointless photoset of Bush looking smaller than other people. Which of course, he is.

[alorevwrites]

Favours

A little drabble with Charles Orrock from my rp blog @midshipmancharlesorrock and Decimus from @perpetuallyadrift inspired by the muns October prompts that you should def check out @severinadestrango . Based loosely off our changeling verse with Charles and Decimus.

The boy had danced nearly six hours before I had the chance to ease a little of his suffering. As much as the Midsummer and the thinned veil that brought him stumbling into our ring were to blame, he ought to have counted himself lucky the night would be short. He’d lasted this long, strong not to fall and have the pixies set on him. It hadn’t been easy to watch.

I had received permission from the Lady of these woods to approach him, wading carefully through the shards from wine glasses thrown at his feet. His hair had long since come loose from its queue, stark white and swaying as he danced. He was beautiful, skeletal and pale, almost fae-like. Like he was some sort of death omen descendent. The perfect entertainment for the rowdy fae.

I was careful with the wine glass, dribbling the minimum needed down his chin to make the act seem mocking. I’d spent too many years being raised by humans to find joy in this sort of entertainment. He watched me, eyes wide but cloudy with overwhelming magic.

I counted the minutes till sunrise after that, pulling the boy out of the glass and the ring as the Good Folk dispersed. The magic wore away from him slowly, bringing with it moans of pain perhaps sweet to trolls ears. I could do little but grimace as I tended to his feet.

“Who...?”

“My human name is Charles. What may I call you?”

“Decim-Deci. My nickname is Deci.”

“Deci. You must have someones favour or protection, few survive a fairy ring.” I did my best to soothe him, combing my fingers through his hair. “You’re owed a fae’s favour Deci now too.”

“A favour?” He struggled a little, I assumed his mind had begun to clear. 

“Ask what you desire.”

“C-companionship.”

There are always caveats to a fae’s favour. For Deci it would have meant friends but no lovers, physical companionship but never emotional. Perhaps it was his strength or his beauty that sought me to rectify it. The otherness he had that brought me to greet him on a ship full of iron as though we had never met.

“Midshipman Charles Orrock. Come aboard sir.”

“Deci...mus. Presidos. Midshipman.”

“Deci yes?”

“Yes. Pleasure to meet you Mr. Orrock.”

There is the smallest and softest of smiles on his face. I feel delighted to be the cause. Looking at him makes me feel of wanderlust, eager to experience him and the seas. His feet will not wander as they had before, not so long as I’m at his side. He’ll have his favour fufilled, perhaps a bit more.

[winterinhimring]

One of these things is not like the others...

"If you think it proper, you can tell the hands that we are at war!"

Orrock:

Bush:

Matthews:

Prowse:

Hammond:

[midshipmancharlesorrock]

“ exactly, why are you awake? ” //midshipmanhollom

Charles turned on his heel quickly, giving the approaching figure a rough smile. Midshipman Hollom if he remembered correctly. He must have just been coming off watch, Orrock hadn't quite gotten used to who was on what watch aboard the Surprise. "Ah, sorry Mr. Hollom. Different ship, different noises, different motions and all that. This was my watch aboard the Hotspur I couldn't sleep. I apologize if I'm in your way."It didn't help that the Surprise was bigger and louder and more cramped than the Hotspur. In fact that only made it worse and Charles hoped Hollom couldn't see the bags beneath his eyes from lack of sleep. He and the other officers of the Hotspur were guests and he didn't want to cause even the slightest offence.

[lesliewofford83-blog]

MORE CELEBRITIES THAT DIED BECAUSE OF WHAT HAPPENED TO LESLIE WOFFORD AND HER KIDS AND HER FAMILY AND WITH PAGAN’S DYING IT WILL TAKE OUT ANY DEMON THAT HATED OR CONSPRIRED AGAINST LUCIFER. APPLY’S TO DEVIL’S TOO, UNLESS LUCIFER WAS LESLIE’S RUINER, AND THOSE ONES WERE TRYING TO KILL HIM TO STOP HIM FROM HURTING LESLIE’S CHILDREN OR KILLING OFF HER FAMILY.

July 2002[edit source]

Unknown date - Catmando, 7, British Cat and Politician and joint Leader of the Monster Raving Looney Party

2 – Earle Brown, 75, American composer.

2 – Ray Brown, 75, American bassist.

3 – Michel Henry, 80, French philosopher.

4 – Kenneth Ross MacKenzie, 90, American physicist.

4 – Sir Jake Saunders, 84, British banker.

4 – Winnifred Van Tongerloo, 98, oldest living survivor of the Titanic.

4 – Benjamin O. Davis Jr., 89, African-American General.

5 – Ted Williams, 83, American baseball player (Boston Red Sox) and member of the MLB Hall of Fame.

5 – Katy Jurado, 68, Mexican actress.

6 – Dhirubhai Ambani, 69, Indian businessman.

6 – John Frankenheimer, 74, American film director.

6 – Kenneth Koch, 77, American poet and playwright.

6 – Stuart Shorter, 33, British homeless activist.

7 – Decherd Turner, 79, American librarian and book collector.

8 – Sir Robert Bellinger, 92, former Lord Mayor of London.

8 – Ward Kimball, 88, Disney animator.

8 – Patrick Rodger, 81, British Anglican prelate, former Bishop of Oxford.

9 – Laurence Janifer, 69, science fiction writer.

9 – William Robinson, 85, Canadian Anglican prelate, Bishop of Ottawa.

9 – Ron Scarlett, 91, New Zealand paleozoologist.

9 – Dave Sorenson, 54, former NBA and Ohio State University basketball player.

9 – Rod Steiger, 77, American actor, kidney failure.

10 – John Wallach, 59, journalist and philanthropist.

11 – Roy Orrock, 81, British World War II pilot.

12 – Edward Lee Howard, 51, American CIA agent who defected to the Soviet Union.

12 – Mani Krishnaswami, 72, Indian vocalist.

13 – Yousuf Karsh, 93, celebrity portrait photographer as "Karsh of Ottawa".

13 – Eric Price, 83, English cricketer.

14 – Joaquín Balaguer, 95, former President of the Dominican Republic.

15 – Gavin Muir, 50. British actor and musician.

15 – Camillus Perera, 64, Sri Lankan cricket umpire.

16 – Alan Charles Clark, 82, British Roman Catholic prelate.

16 – John Cocke, 77, American computer scientist, key figure in the development of RISC architecture.

16 – Cletus Madsen, 96, American Roman Catholic priest.

16 – Jack Olsen, 77, American "True crime" writer.

17 – Charles I. Krause, 90, American labor leader.

18 – Metin Toker, 78, Turkish journalist and one time politician

19 – Dave Carter, 49, American singer-songwriter.

19 – Alexander Ginzburg, 65, leading Soviet dissident.

19 – Alan Lomax, 87, American documenter of blues and folk songs.

21 – John Cunningham, 84, British World War II fighter pilot.

21 – Antti Koivumäki, 25, Finnish poet and keyboardist (Aavikko)

22 – Joyce Cooper, 93, British Olympic swimmer.

22 – Marion Montgomery, 67, American jazz singer.

22 – Giuseppe Corradi, 70, Italian footballer.

22 – Prince Ahmed bin Salman, member of the Saudi Arabian royal family.

22 – Chuck Traynor, 64, American pornographer.

23 – Bill Bell, 70, New Zealand cricketer.

23 – Alberto Castillo, 87, Argentine tango singer and actor.

23 – Leo McKern, 82, Australian actor.

23 – William Pierce, American neo-Nazi, author of The Turner Diaries.

23 – Chaim Potok, 73, American author.

24 – Maurice Denham, 92, British actor.

24 – Mike Clark, 61, former NFL kicker.

25 – Abdur Rahman Badawi, Egyptian existentialist philosopher.

27 – Krishan Kant, 75, Indian politician, Vice-President (1997–2002).

29 – Peter Bayliss, 80, British actor.

30 – Fred Jordan, 80, British folk singer.

31 – Pauline Chan Bo-Lin, 29, Hong Kong actress, suicide.

31 – Sir Maldwyn Thomas, 84, Welsh businessman and politician.

August 2002[edit source]

1 – Theo Bruce, 79, Australian long jumper.

1 – Jack Tighe, 88, American baseball coach.

3 – Kathleen Hughes-Hallett, 84, Canadian Olympic fencer.

3 – Peter Miles, 64, American actor.

3 – Carmen Silvera, 80, UK television and theatre actress (Dad's Army, 'Allo 'Allo!).

5 – Josh Ryan Evans, 20, American actor ("Timmy" on Passions).

5 – Chick Hearn, 85, television and radio announcer for the Los Angeles Lakers basketball team since 1960.

5 – Franco Lucentini, 82, Italian writer (The Sunday Woman).

5 – Darrell Porter, 50, American baseball player.

6 – Jim Crawford, 54, Scottish motor racing driver.

6 – Edsger Dijkstra, 72, computer scientist.

7 – Dominick Browne, 4th Baron Oranmore and Browne, 100, British aristocrat.

9 – George Alfred Barnard, 86, British statistician.

10 – Doris Wishman, 90, American film director, producer and screenwriter.

12 – Sir John Rennie, 85, British diplomat.

12 – Enos Slaughter, 86, American baseball player (St. Louis Cardinals) and member of the MLB Hall of Fame.

12 – Dame Marjorie Williamson, 89, British university administrator.

14 – Peter R. Hunt, 77, British film editor.

14 – Larry Rivers, 78, American painter.

14 – Dave Williams, 30, singer of Drowning Pool.

15 – Jesse Brown, 58, United States Secretary of Veterans Affairs.

15 – George Agbazika Innih, 63, Nigerian army general and politician.

15 – Haim Yosef Zadok, 88, Israeli jurist and politician.

16 – Abu Nidal, 65, terrorist.

16 – Ola Belle Reed, 85, American singer.

16 – Johnny Roseboro, 69, American baseball player.

18 – Dame Elizabeth Chesterton, 86, British architect and town planner.

18 – Edward Crew, 84, British air marshal.

18 – David Keynes Hill, 87, British biophysicist.

19 – Sunday Silence, 16, thoroughbred race horse, winner of the Kentucky Derby and the Preakness Stakes.

20 – Augustine Geve, Solomon Islands Cabinet Minister, assassinated.

22 – Allan George Bromley, 55, computer scientist, historian of computing.

22 – Bruce Duncan Guimaraens, 66, Portuguese wine maker.

23 – Emily Genauer, 91, American art critic.

23 – Hoyt Wilhelm, 80, American baseball player who played for nine different teams and a member of the MLB Hall of Fame.

24 – Wayne Simmons, 32, American Football player.

25 – Per Anger, 88, Swedish diplomat.

25 – Dorothy Hewett, 79, Australian poet, playwright and novelist.

27 – Edwin Sill Fussell, 80, American scholar of English literature.

27 – George Mitchell, 85, Scottish musician (The Black and White Minstrel Show).

27 – John S. Wilson, 89, American music critic.

29 – Elizabeth Forbes, 85, New Zealand athlete.

29 – Paul Tripp, 91, American musician and TV host.

30 – Thomas J. Anderson, 91, American publisher and politician.

30 – Maia Berzina, 91, Russian geographer, cartographer and ethnologer.

30 – Roy Wright, 73, Austrian rules football player.

31 – Lionel Hampton, 94, American jazz musician.

31 – Martin Kamen, 89, American scientist.

31 – George Porter, Baron Porter of Luddenham, 81, British Nobel Prize winner in chemistry.

September 2002[edit source]

1 – Peter Ramsden, 68, British rugby league player.

2 – Sir Robert Wilson, 75, British astronomer.

3 – Kenneth Hare, 83, Canadian scientist.

3 – Ted Ross, 68, American actor.

3 – Len Wilkinson, 85, British cricketer.

4 – Frankie Albert, 82, American National Football League star.

4 – Jerome Biffle, 74, American Olympic long jumper.

5 – Robert W. Brooks, 49, American mathematician.

5 – William Cooper, 92, English novelist.

5 – Cliff Gorman, 65, American actor.

5 – David Todd Wilkinson, 67, American cosmologist.

7 - Eugenio Coșeriu, 81, linguist specialized in Romance languages

7 – Uziel Gal, 78, designer of the Uzi submachine gun.

7 – Don Smith, 73, Canadian ice hockey player.

8 – Marco Siffredi, 23, French snowboarder (last seen on this date).

9 – Geoffrey Dummer, 92, British engineer.

11 – Johnny Unitas, 69, American football player (Baltimore Colts) and a member of the Pro Football Hall of Fame.

12 – Kim Hunter, 79, American stage, television and Oscar-winning film actress (played "Stella Kowalski" in the original Broadway and film versions of A Streetcar Named Desire).

13 – Charles Herbert Lowe, 82, American biologist.

13 – George Stanley, 95, Canadian historian and public servant.

14 – Paul Williams, 87, American saxophonist.

15 – Robert William Pope, 86, British Anglican prelate, Dean of Gibraltar.

16 – Archibald Hall, 78, British criminal.

16 – Nguyễn Văn Thuận, 74, Vietnamese Roman Catholic prelate.

17 – Denys Fisher, 84, British inventor of the Spirograph.

18 – Bob Hayes, 59, American football player Dallas Cowboys and a member of the Pro Football Hall of Fame.

19 – Sergei Bodrov Jr., 30, Russian movie star, Kolka-Karmadon rock ice slide.

19 – James Macdonald, 83, Scottish-born Australian ornithologist.

20 – Necdet Kent, 91, Turkish diplomat and humanitarian.

20 – Bob Wallace, 53, American computer scientist.

21 – Henry Pybus Bell-Irving, 89, Canadian Lieutenant Governor of British Columbia.

21 – Angelo Buono, Jr., 67, the "Hillside Strangler".

21 – Robert L. Forward, 70, physicist and science fiction author.

22 – Joseph Nathan Kane, 103, American historian and author.

22 – Jan de Hartog, 88, novelist and playwright.

22 – Anthony Milner, 77, British musician.

23 – Vernon Corea, 75, Sri Lankan-born British radio broadcaster.

24 – Mike Webster, 50, American football player (Pittsburgh Steelers) and a member of the Pro Football Hall of Fame).

24 – George Wilson, 86, British cricketer.

25 – Arnold Ross, 96, American mathematician.

26 – Thomas S. Smith, 84, American politician, member of the New Jersey General Assembly.

27 – David Granger, 99, American bobsledder.

27 – Bill Pearson, 80, New Zealand writer.

30 – Robert Battersby, 77, British soldier and politician.

30 – Arthur Hazlerigg, 2nd Baron Hazlerigg, 92, British cricketer and soldier.

30 – Meinhard Michael Moser, 78, Swiss mycologist.

30 – Ewart Oakeshott, 86, British illustrator.

30 – Sir Jock Taylor, 78, British diplomat.

October 2002[edit source]

1 – Walter Annenberg, 94, American publisher and philanthropist.

1 – Ted Serong, 86, Australian soldier.

2 – Norman O. Brown, 89, American classicist.

2 – Heinz von Foerster, 90, Austrian-born American physicist and philosopher, one of the founders of constructivism.

2 – Alexander Sinclair, 91, Canadian ice hockey player.

3 – John Erritt, 71, British civil servant.

3 – Bruce Paltrow, 58, American television and film producer.

4 – Alphonse Chapanis, a founder of ergonomics.

4 – Barbara Fawkes, 87, British nurse.

4 – Ahmad Mahmoud, 70, Iranian novelist.

5 – Sir Reginald Hibbert, 80, British diplomat.

5 – Morag Hood, 59, Scottish actress.

6 – Chuck Rayner, 82, Canadian ice hockey player.

6 – Claus von Amsberg, 76, Dutch diplomat; husband of Queen Beatrix of the Netherlands.

8 – Phyllis Calvert, 87, British actress.

9 – Jim Martin, 78, American football player.

9 – Aileen Wuornos, 46, convicted of killing six men, lethal injection.

10 – Joe Wood, 86, American baseball player.

11 – William J. Field, 93, British politician.

12 – Sir Desmond Fitzpatrick, 89. British general.

12 – Audrey Mestre, 28, French world record-setting free diver.

12 – Nozomi Momoi, 24, Japanese AV idol, murdered.

12 – Sidney W. Pink, 86, American movie director and producer.

13 – Stephen Ambrose, 66, historian and author of "Band of Brothers".

13 – Keene Curtis, 79, American actor.

13 – Jim Higgins, 71, British politician.

14 – S. William Green, 72, American politician.

15 – Jack Lee, 89, British film director.

15 – Ze'ev, 79, Israeli caricaturist and illustrator.

16 – William Macmillan, 75, Scottish minister, Moderator of the General Assembly of the Church of Scotland.

17 – Derek Bell, 66, member of The Chieftains, harpist.

17 – Henri Renaud, 67, French jazz pianist and record company executive.

18 – Sir Cecil Blacker, 86, British army general.

18 – Roman Tam, 52, Hong Kong canto-pop singer.

19 – Manuel Alvarez Bravo, 100, Mexican photographer.

20 – Barbara Berjer, 82, American actress.

20 – Elisabeth Furse, 92, German-born British war-time agent.

20 – Mel Harder, 93, American baseball player.

21 – Beatrice Serota, Baroness Serota, 83, British politician.

22 – Richard Helms, 89, American former CIA director.

23 – David Henry Lewis, 85, New Zealand sailor and adventurer.

24 – Winton M. Blount, 81, last United States Postmaster General to have served in a Presidential Cabinet.

24 – Adolph Green, 87, American lyricist and playwright.

24 – Harry Hay, 90, American gay rights activist and Mattachine Society founder.

25 – Richard Harris, 72, Irish actor.

25 – René Thom, 79, French mathematician.

25 – Paul Wellstone, 58, United States Senator (D-MN).

28 – Margaret Booth, 104, Academy Award-winning film editor.

28 – Erling Persson, 85, Swedish businessman, founder of H&M.

28 – Sir Patrick Russell, 76, British jurist.

29 – Chang-Lin Tien, educator, 7th Chancellor of the University of California, Berkeley.

29 – Richard Jenkin, 77, Cornish nationalist politician.

29 – Glenn McQueen, 41, Canadian film animator.

30 – Jam Master Jay, 37, DJ of Run DMC, murdered.

30 – Sir William Mitchell, 77, British physicist.

31 – Yuri Ahronovitch, 70, Russian conductor.

31 – Sir Napier Crookenden, 87, British Army general.

31 – Baroness Hylton-Foster, 94, British peer.

November 2002[edit source]

1 – Edward Brooke, 85, Canadian Olympic fencer.

1 – Sir Charles Wilson, 93, British political scientist.

2 – Brian Behan, 75, Irish writer, younger brother of Brendan Behan.

2 – Robert Haslam, Baron Haslam, 79, British industrialist and life peer.

2 – Lo Lieh, 63, Hong King actor.

2 – Dame Felicity Peake, 89, British Director of the Women's Royal Air Force.

2 – Tonio Selwart, 106, Bavarian actor and Broadway performer.

2 – Charles Sheffield, 67, science fiction author and physicist.

3 – Lonnie Donegan, 71, British skiffle musician.

3 – Sir John Habakkuk, 87, British economic historian.

3 – Jonathan Harris, 87, American actor, TV's "Dr. Smith" on Lost in Space.

3 – William Packard, 69, American poet and author.

3 – Sir Rex Roe, 77, British air force officer.

4 – Antonio Margheriti, 72, Italian filmmaker, heart attack.

5 – Billy Guy, 66, American singer.

5 – Mushtaq Qadri, 35, Pakistani religious poet.

6 – Brian James, 61, English cricketer.

6 – Sid Sackson, 82, board game designer.

7 – Rudolf Augstein, 79, founder and chief editorialist of the German newsweekly Der Spiegel.

8 – Dorothy Mackie Low, 86, British novelist.

9 – Dick Johnson, 85, American test pilot.

9 – Merlin Santana, 26, actor.

9 – William Schutz, 76, American psychologist.

10 – Steve Durbano, 50, ice hockey player, lung cancer.

11 – Sir Michael Clapham, 90, British industrialist.

11 – David Steel, 92, Scottish minister.

13 – Kaloji Narayana Rao, 88, Indian poet and political activist.

13 – Irv Rubin, 57, Canadian chairman of the Jewish Defence League.

14 – Eddie Bracken, 87, actor.

14 – Mir Qazi, 38, Pakistani convicted criminal, executed by lethal injection in Virginia.

15 – Myra Hindley, 60, the Moors murderess.

15 – John Joseph Stewart,79, New Zealand rugby coach.

16 – Rupert E. Billingham, 81, British biologist.

16 – Sir George Gardiner, 67, British politician.

17 – Abba Eban, 88, Israeli foreign affair minister.

18 – James Coburn, 74, Oscar-winning actor, heart attack.

18 – Pasquale Vivolo, 74, Italian footballer.

19 – Prince Alexandre de Merode, 68, International Olympic Committee member, lung cancer.

19 – George Fullerton, 79, South African cricketer.

20 – George Guest, 78, British organist and choirmaster.

20 – Ben Webb, 45, Canadian journalist.

20 – Zhang Shuguang, 82, Chinese politician

21 – Prince Takamado, 47, Japanese prince

21 – Hadda Brooks, 86, American jazz singer, pianist and composer.

21 – Arturo Guzman Decena founder of Los Zetas

21 – J. Roger Pichette, 81, Canadian politician.

22 – Joan Barclay, 88, American actress.

22 – Christine Marion Fraser, 64, Scottish novelist.

23 – Roberto Matta, 91 Chilean artist.

24 – Philip B. Meggs, 60, American graphic designer.

24 – John Rawls, 81, political theorist.

25 – Gordon Davidson, 87, Australian politician.

25 – David Drummond, 8th Earl of Perth, 95, British politician and aristocrat.

26 – Verne Winchell, 87, founder of Winchell's Donuts (nicknamed "The Donut King").

27 – Stanley Black, 89, British musician.

27 – Ronald Gerard Connors, 87, American Roman Catholic bishop in the Dominican Republic.

28 – Billy Pearson, 82, American jockey.

29 – David Weiss, 93, American novelist.

30 – Tim Woods, 68, professional wrestler who wrestled as Mr. Wrestling, heart attack.

December 2002[edit source]

1 – Dave McNally, 60, American baseball player.

1 – José Chávez Morado, 93, Mexican artist.

1 – Michael Oliver, 65, British classical music broadcaster and writer.

2 – Jim Mitchell, 56, Irish politician.

2 – Vjenceslav Richter, 85, Croatian architect.

2 – Derek Robinson, 61, British nuclear physicist.

2 – Fay Gillis Wells, 94, American pioneer aviator.

3 – Glenn Quinn, 32, Irish actor (Roseanne, Angel).

5 – Roone Arledge, 71, American television producer and executive (Monday Night Football and Nightline).

5 – Ne Win, 91, Burmese dictator.

6 – Father Philip Berrigan, 79, American priest and political activist.

6 – Charles Rosen, 85, pioneer in artificial intelligence.

7 – Barbara Howard, 76, Canadian artist.

7 – Paddy Tunney, 81, Irish traditional artist.

8 – Bobby Joe Hill, 59, American basketball player.

8 – Charles Rosen, 85, American computer scientist.

9 – Stan Rice, 60, painter, educator, poet, husband of author Anne Rice, cancer.

9 – To Huu, 82, Vietnamese poet and politician.

10 – Desmond Keith Carter, 35, convicted murderer, executed by lethal injection in North Carolina.

10 – Earl Henry, 85, American baseball player.

10 – Andres Küng, 57, Swedish journalist, writer, entrepreneur and politician of Estonian origin.

10 – Steve Llewellyn, 78, Welsh rugby league player.

10 – Ian MacNaughton, 76, director of most episodes of Monty Python's Flying Circus.

11 – Kay Rose, 80, American Oscar-winning sound editor.

12 – Dee Brown, 94, author (Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee).

12 – Edward Harrison, 92, English cricketer and squash player.

12 – Jay Wesley Neill, 37. convicted murderer, executed by lethal injection in Oklahoma.

13 – Ronald Butt, 82, British journalist.

13 – Zal Yanofsky, 57, Canadian member of The Lovin' Spoonful music group.

14 – Jack Bradley, 86, English footballer.

15 – Arthur Jeph Parker, 79, American set decorator.

15 – Dick Stuart, 70, American baseball player.

17 – John Aubrey Davis, Sr., 90, American civil rights activist.

17 – Hank Luisetti, 86, basketball star and innovator.

18 – Lucy Grealy, 39, Irish-born American poet and memoirist.

18 – Ramon John Hnatyshyn, 68, former Governor-General of Canada, pancreatitis.

18 – Sir Bert Millichip, 88, British football administrator.

18 – Wayne Owens, 65, U.S. Congressman (D-UT), heart attack.

19 – Guy Bordelon, 80, American Korean War flying ace.

19 – Stephen Fleck, 90, American psychiatrist.

19 – Jim Flower, 79, British admiral.

19 – Arthur Rowley, 76, English footballer, holder of the record for most career league goals scored.

19 – Lewis B. Smedes, 81, American theologian.

20 – Joanne Campbell, 38, British actress who starred in the comedy series, Me and My Girl (1980s).

20 – James Richard Ham, 91, American Roman Catholic prelate.

22 – Desmond Hoyte, 73, President of Guyana from 1985 to 1992.

22 – Joe Morgan, 57, New Zealand rugby union player.

22 – Joe Strummer, 50, former singer for The Clash.

22 – Kenneth Tobey, 85, prolific character actor (appeared in about 100 films including: Twelve O'Clock High, Gunfight at the O.K. Corral, The Thing from Another World and Airplane!).

23 – Jimmy Osborne, 94, Australian soccer player.

24 – James Ferman, 72, American film censor.

24 – Tita Merello, 98, Argentinian actress and singer.

24 – V.K. Ramasamy, 76, Indian actor.

24 – Jake Thackray, 64, English singer-songwriter, heart failure.

25 – Gabriel Almond, 91, American political scientist.

25 – William T. Orr, 85, television executive (brought Maverick, F-Troop and 77 Sunset Strip to TV).

25 – Davina Whitehouse, 90, British-born New Zealand actress.

26 – Herb Ritts, 50, celebrity photographer.

26 – Armand Zildjian, 81, cymbals manufacturer.

27 – George Roy Hill, 81, film director (Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, The Sting).

28 – Meri Wilson, 53, American singer.

29 – Don Clarke, 69, New Zealand rugby player.

29 – Sir Paul Hawkins, 90, British politician.

30 – Mary Wesley, 90, novelist, author of The Camomile Lawn.

31 – Billy Morris, 84, Welsh footballer.

31 – Kevin MacMichael, 51, Canadian guitarist and singer-songwriter (Cutting Crew).

[verecunda]

I appear to have a developing Midshipman Orrock situation.

[winterinhimring]

Midshipman Orrock is judging you.

Favorite Hornblower Screencaps (161/?) ——> Loyalty (x)

[silverfoxstole]

Listening to Dark Eyes, I wasn’t expecting Mr Orrock to turn up.

And did the Doctor just make a Bagpuss reference? I think he did.

[silverfoxstole]

Mr Bush and his ever-so-eloquent eyebrows, Loyalty and Duty.

[silverfoxstole]

The boys of HMS Hotspur (plus one treacherous Irish Napoleon wannabe).

Photos enhanced and watermarks removed by me.

[lacnunga]

#i like the idea of all the hotspurs bwing miniatures#and styles being ordered around by mini bush#but ALSO being fathered by mini matthews#i think it could be cute#the hotpsur is a little model in one glass box at the maritime museum and the tonnant#is one of those huge suspended models#every time pellew summons hornblower#horatio has to ascend a little rope up to the tonnant despite his fear of heights#but styles can just pick him up and put him up there!#meanwhile the british ships try to fight the french ones at night causing chaos

More NatM au thots:

Styles does actually offer to pick Horatio up to bring him to the Tonnant, but Horatio refuses despite his fear of heights because he doesn’t need help damn your eyes

Cotard is one of those life sized uniform-display dummies like they have at Greenwich (although one of his arms is missing) which means he’s approx the same height as Styles and spends his time alternatively irritating Styles, trying to flick Bush off of surfaces and generally annoying him, and trying to leave the museum to return to France.

I can’t remember if this is actually a thing in NatM but I think Barbara should be like a portrait painting that can’t leave her frame (which also represents the barriers that were between her and Horatio in the books). She’s inset in a deep frame though so Horatio clambers up to gingerly sit on the little edge of the frame.

Now I really want Maria to just be a bit of a wet nerd, who is not so much into maritime stuff as such but is a model builder and so she comes to the museum to study the little panoramas and ship models they have and she’s always a little obsessive about noticing when and how often the models are in slightly different positions and states of repair.

Speaking of repair, ‘Bush gets blown up at Le Havre’ actually an error - he gets real dinged up in one of the nightly battles and his little guy is shipped off to the model maker to be repainted. Horatio spends the whole time thinking Bush is dead until he gets dropped back into the display case.

I also want there to be a wall of ship figureheads like they have at Greenwich and they spend the whole night arguing with each other (bc they’re all from different nationality ships, and some were captured by the enemy and renamed etc) but they can’t detach from the wall, so they’re just shouting at each other all the time.

I don’t know if it would be funnier to have Charles Hammond or Captain Sawyer as the owner of the museum, but I do want Jack Hammond to end up on the night shift with Styles after a while, and Styles has to try and keep him from discovering that all the exhibits come alive (maybe to the ringing of a strange ship’s bell that was pulled form the ocean and stored at the museum?). 

Orrock is another uniform mannequin but despite the fact that he’s human sized, he recognises the authority of the tiny officers, so he’s often at odds with Styles regarding orders given by Horatio or Bush

In a night at the museum Hornblower au, who would be the museum guard? I feel like Bush would make sense but in my heart I feel like it's Styles

[silverfoxstole]

The last batch of those photos I was cleaning the other week, plus bonus behind the scenes:

There’s a rogue McGann loose somewhere...

That pic really needs a caption, I feel.

[silverfoxstole]

I’d intended to write something completely different this afternoon, but the Hornblower/Night at the Museum AU has apparently taken over my brain and I ended up with nearly 3500 words of that instead.

Thank you so much to @lacnunga for coming up with this wonderful idea in the first place, and to @amalthea9 for the fantastic additions I’ve used as well. I will just point out that I’ve never actually seen any of the NATM films, though I am of course vaguely aware of the set up. This is me riffing on the concept.

The gallery seemed subdued when Styles started his patrol.

It was strange; unlike most nights there was little apparent activity in the display cases, and it wasn’t until he’d made two rounds of the room that he realised there had been no small voice barking at him and demanding to know why he had turned up thirty seconds late for his shift again, chastising him for his terrible time-keeping. Frowning, he passed his torch over the Hotspur’s home only to find that the diorama was curiously low on figures; the ship was drastically undermanned, though he could see Matthews chivvying some of the hands that were milling about on deck. Prowse was there, too, waddling back and forth, but there was no sign of Bush or Hornblower and the whole model had an air of despondency that Styles had never seen before, as though something momentous had happened in his absence. When Matthews caught sight of him the bos’n just shook his grey head before Styles could ask and pointed towards another case, one that Styles had never really paid much attention to before because it didn’t really contain much of any interest.

It still didn’t, though this time not because its miniature landscape was devoid of ships and therefore much in the way of excitement. Styles shone a light into the case and blinked in astonishment: in place of village buildings that usually clustered around the mouth of a serpentine river, tiny people bustling back and forth on the quay, there was what could only be described as devastation. If he hadn’t known better he would have said that some kind of fire or explosion had taken place; the houses and offices had been flattened, what remained burnt-out husks of wood and paper, and the mirrored water was cracked, its surface peeling away and curling at the corners. Here and there a battered figure lay, though most of them had apparently already been removed. Belatedly Styles realised that the case itself was taped off, and a hastily-printed sign stuck to the glass that declared it was awaiting redisplay.

For a moment he thought of returning to Hotspur and asking Matthews what had happened, but then he spotted movement in Lady Barbara’s frame, illuminated by a spot lamp above, and heard a very distinct hiss from that direction; as he approached he could see that she was waving to him, and looking quite distressed, which was most unusual when she normally radiated an aura of serenity no matter what chaos erupted around her. When he got close his torch beam revealed the small figure sitting on the edge of the frame: Hornblower was hunched over, hat on his knees, and even in the horrible white light from the LED bulb Styles could see the strain on his face; he didn’t appear to be paying Lady Barbara much attention, an odd development when he only normally climbed all the way up there to moon over her.

“What’s going on?” Styles asked. “Where’s Mr Bush? He’s never been fighting those Frenchies in that wrecked case; looks like there’s been a right old battle.”

“It was only meant to be a quick sortie,” Hornblower said, though the words didn’t appear to be addressed to Styles; he was staring at his hat, apparently unaware of Styles’s presence, and Lady Barbara sighed.

“Something of a disaster has happened,” she explained sadly. “Mr Bush is - ”

“He’s dead.” Hornblower’s voice as he cut her off was flat. “I sent him. Sent him to his death.”

“No, you didn’t, Horatio,” Lady Barbara told him, glancing helplessly at Styles. “He wanted to go; you couldn’t have stopped him.”

“I should have refused permission. I’m his senior officer; I should have said no.”

Styles wasn’t sure what happened to models that were classed as dead; whatever had occurred some considerable damage had been afflicted, but there hadn’t been many obvious casualties, no remains, just the lack of hands aboard Hotspur. “Are you absolutely sure he’s dead?”

“Yes,” Hornblower replied, just as Lady Barbara answered in the negative.

“We don’t know that,” she said firmly.

“He hasn’t come back; he must be.” With an effort Hornblower sat up, squaring his shoulders. His face closed as though a shutter had come down on it and he set his hat back on his head. “I’ll have to inform the admiral, though he must have heard by now.”

“D’you want some help gettin’ there, sir?” Styles put out a hand with the intention of letting Hornblower step onto it but as usual the little captain just straightened, clasping his hands behind his back, and fixed him with a hard stare.

“No, thank you,” he said. “I need no assistance; I can manage perfectly well.”

“He can’t,” Lady Barbara remarked as she watched him slide awkwardly off the frame. “He’ll go to pieces without William to keep an eye on him, fret himself to ribbons.”

“Did you see what happened to the crew, ma’am?” Styles asked hopefully, but she shook her head.

“There were too many people about when they found the mess; Sawyer was down here, hopping mad. I didn’t dare move. “

“But you saw the explosion?” Though Styles couldn’t be sure that was what had caused the devastation in case thirty-three, it certainly looked as though some such accident had occurred.

Lady Barbara’s painted eyes met his. “I saw the fire,” she replied.

~

With no more information forthcoming Styles decided to use his rounds to make a few enquiries.

The figureheads at the other end of the hall could usually be relied upon to know the comings and goings of the museum, day or night, but on this occasion it seemed they’d taken their collective eyes off the ball. Even Hammond and Foster, the most vocal of the bunch, denied all knowledge of any action between the British and French contingents last night, though when Styles was about to leave Foster told him that if Hammond hadn’t been snoring he would have seen what happened as thirty-three was directly in his line of sight, a charge immediately refuted by the carved Irishman in the strongest terms. Inevitably the bickering soon escalated into a full-blown argument that had the rest of the heads calling for quiet, a request that of course was ignored and Styles slipped away, deciding that discretion was the better part of valour. He could still hear them as he made his way along to the uniform displays, throwing increasingly creative insults at each other.

He had half-thought that Cotard might have played one of his habitual pranks on Bush and stuffed him into a pocket or stuck a glass over him but incredibly the mannequin appeared to be genuinely insulted by such a suggestion, running off into a tide of incomprehensible French accompanied by some vociferous arm-waving when Styles dared to broach the subject. Orrock stepped in and explained gravely that they’d heard what had happened, adding in a low voice that Cotard had been quite despondent at the thought that his little adversary might be gone for good.

By the time he’d patrolled the rest of the building and returned to the first floor, unable to find any trace of Bush whatsoever, Styles was feeling much the same way. He’d even checked the rubbish bin where he’d discovered the broken remains of Kennedy, but it was empty, no sign of even a single battered deck hand or Imperial soldier.

He was still wondering whether he’d somehow missed something when morning rolled around and his shift came to an end; it was only when he was getting ready to go home that his eye was caught by the door leading to the offices occupied by the curatorial staff, and in particular the sign that pointed towards the display department. He’d sneaked into the model shop to pilfer a few bits and bobs with which to put Archie back together, and then it had been full of half-built dioramas and pieces that were no longer in use; if damaged miniatures were going to end up anywhere, it would have to be there. Deciding that breakfast and sleep could wait, Styles pushed through the door and headed down the corridor.

Annoyingly Wallis, the one in charge of fixing broken displays and building new ones, had a habit of starting early and was already there when Styles stuck his head in; Styles had been hoping to have a poke about without interference, something that was going to be impossible with glue, wood and paint spread all over the place and instructions not to touch shouted as soon as he went near anything.

Wallis glanced at him over his John Lennon specs for a second before returning to whatever it was he was intent on, paintbrush in hand. “Shouldn’t you be heading home, mate? It’s gone half past eight.”

“I’m on my way.  Saw the mess in thirty-three,” Styles added before it could be pointed out that the exit was in the opposite direction. “Have you got the survivors?”

For a moment the other man looked puzzled but then the question seemed to register and he nodded towards a plastic crate on the table. “In there. It’s a bit of a mess; not sure how much I’ll be able to fix.”

“D’you know what happened?” Styles sidled slowly towards the box, stopping to peer at a newly-rigged model of HMS Pickle on the way. “Looked like a fire, but that’s not possible, is it?”

“You’d think so, but sadly it’s true. Derek was covering for you last night and he thought he’d have a crafty fag.” Wallis’s lips pursed in annoyance. “Dropped the bloody thing, didn’t he? Right when the lid was off the case, too; Tim removed it so I could put these guys back this morning.” He gestured to the couple of French sailors and a rowboat that he’d been putting the finishing touches to. “Before he managed to put it out half the scenery was wrecked, and the rest copped it when the sprinklers kicked in. It’s going to take forever to put right; might have to start from scratch.”

Styles stared. “Bloody hell.”

“Quite. Of course, he’s out on his ear; Sawyer went barmy when he saw what’d happened. Practically turned purple; I really thought he was going to explode this time.”

Styles knew he wouldn’t have liked to be on the receiving end of that. James Sawyer in a temper was truly a sight to behold, especially if he’d forgotten to take his medication. “Have you...”  - he glanced around the room, trying to sound casual - “...have you seen a little lieutenant anywhere? About three inches high, dark hair, blue eyes? He’s usually with the Hotspur but I couldn’t find him anywhere last night.”

Wallis frowned. “Not to my knowledge, but you’re welcome to take a look. Though why he’d be in with that lot if he’s part of Hotspur’s crew I’ve no idea; the models don’t just get up and move around.”

That’s what you think, Styles retorted inwardly. Given permission now, he lifted the lid off the crate; inside was a jumble of twisted miniature figures, some melted, some snapped in half, almost all with their paint chipped and flaking. Trying to be gentle, he sifted carefully through, wondering if any of them could be properly repaired; most were missing limbs, even heads in some cases, and it was hard to tell which were meant to be French and which British.

“Why such an interest?” Wallis enquired, sounding amused as he watched Styles’s attempts to handle the remains without damaging them any further. “Are all these nights on your own starting to get to you, mate? You’re making friends with the displays?”

Styles muttered something appropriately filthy and the other man just chuckled, turning back to his work. Frustratingly, it seemed that the contents of the box was just what was left of the French peasants and possibly a couple of sailors, and eventually Styles had to admit defeat. Just as he was about to replace the lid, however, he spotted a splash of navy blue right at the bottom and his heart ridiculously skipped a beat. Wincing inwardly as he shifted a couple of dismembered townspeople out of the way, he slid a hand underneath the tiny figure and lifted it out. It appeared to have taken a considerable battering, as half the paint on the face had gone and the left leg was broken away below the knee, but what remained was recognisable: Bush’s face looked pained and in this light the one eye that was visible seemed to be closed, but it was definitely him and Styles nearly trembled with relief.

Without preamble he turned and presented what remained of Bush to Wallis. “Can you fix him?” he asked.

The conservator blinked in surprise, but he took Bush from Styles; Styles tried not to wince again when he was less than gentle. “He’s from one of the older scenes,” Wallis said, putting Bush down on the table and pulling over a magnifying glass on a stand to take a closer look. “Don’t think I’ve seen him before; must have been made well before my time.”

Styles huffed impatiently as the broken lieutenant was examined in minute detail. “Can you fix him?” he asked again.

Wallis sat back. “Possibly.” He jerked a thumb towards the bookshelves behind him. “There should be schematics and plans somewhere in amongst that lot. Might take me a while to find ‘em, though, and I’ve got a load of other work on. Thirty-three’s going to be a bugger to put right.”

“How about overtime?”

Wallis laughed. “I don’t get paid for that, mate.”

Styles had a sudden vision of the broken Bush being thrown into a box and shoved on a shelf to be forgotten until the next clear-out of the model store, when someone was likely to decide he was past saving, just like Kennedy. “What if I said I’d pay you?”

“What? Why the hell would you do that?” Wallis demanded in astonishment.

With a shrug that he hoped was appropriately nonchalant, Styles just replied, “Don’t want to see him chucked away, that’s all. The ship doesn’t look right without him.”

For a long moment Wallis stared at him as though he thought he’d run completely mad, but then he looked back at the little figure on the table and a gleam came into his eye. “OK,” he said. “Leave it with me. No promises, though.”

Styles grinned. “Brilliant.”

~

The next few weeks were filled with the usual kind of madness Styles had come to expect of his magical charges, but though he relished rugby-tackling Cotard to the floor when the mannequin made his next break for freedom in the direction of the Channel Tunnel he didn’t really derive the satisfaction he’d experienced in the past without Bush to congratulate him, no doubt smirking at Cotard’s voluble disgust as he was led back to his case for the umpteenth time.

He hadn’t dared sneak back to the model shop in case he discovered the worst: that Wallis wasn’t able to fix the lieutenant as he had hoped. Though he checked the bins periodically and found nothing that didn’t mean that Bush wasn’t already languishing somewhere on a top shelf along with all the other bits and pieces of miniatures that Wallis couldn’t be bothered to dispose of just yet. No more action had taken place in the gallery; both sides appeared to have agreed upon a ceasefire for now, given what had happened to the inhabitants of case thirty-three, and for that Styles was grateful. He had quite enough to do without ducking tiny cannonballs and having to rescue sailors that had become entangled in their own rigging.

It was a Friday evening and he had just come on shift (actually a minute early for once) when he finally saw Wallis again. The conservator was waiting for him in the Napoleonic gallery with a small box and a big smile. “Surprise!” he announced, adding when Styles just looked baffled, “Finished him this afternoon. Thought you might like to do the honours and return him to his ship.”

“You were really able to put him back together?” Styles asked as he took the box, making sure he wasn’t going to drop it.

Wallis shrugged. “Well, he’s so old I couldn’t find any appropriate replacement material so I had to give him a wooden leg, but I daresay he’ll cope. Not unusual for sailors, is it?”

Styles almost didn’t like to lift the lid, but when he did there was Bush, looking as good as new if not better, the eyes that glared up at him an even brighter blue than before thanks to their fresh coat of paint. It was hardly possible to see that he’d been damaged at all, but for the slightly different shape of that substitute leg. “Blimey,” he said, relieved and glad to see his tiny nemesis again. “You’ve done a great job.”

“Well, it turned into a bit of a side project; I’ve never looked through all that old stuff before. It was fascinating; found design drawings for him, so I was able to replicate the face pretty much as it was.” Wallis dug into his pocket and produced a ring of keys. “Want to put him back where he belongs? His shipmates are probably missing him.”

Reflecting that there was many a true word spoken in jest, Styles nodded, and Wallis unlocked Hotspur’s case. As the door swung open from the corner of his eye Styles saw Hornblower glance up in surprise, turning away from the quarterdeck rail, but when he looked properly all was still: the captain stood by the wheel, head high and hands behind his back, while Prowse consulted with the helmsman and in the waist below Matthews supervised the hands at work. With deliberate care Styles grasped Bush between finger and thumb and lifted him from the box, leaning into the case and setting him down on the deck beside Hornblower, who naturally didn’t react. He tried not to smile at the sight of them both there together once more as he stepped back and let Wallis secure the door; it was still a complete mystery to him how they managed to get out of a locked display cabinet but somehow they did, along with all the others who so enlivened his working hours.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it,” Wallis said, checking his watch. “I think I’m the last one; d’you want to lock up after me?”

When Styles returned to the gallery it was nearly ten minutes later and he wasn’t even remotely surprised to see that things had changed aboard Hotspur in his absence. As he approached Hornblower and Bush came to the rail to meet him, the captain doing his best to look stern and in control despite the smile that was apparently trying to break onto his face and Bush now with a slight limp thanks to his mismatched legs that thankfully didn’t seem to be hindering him too much.

“Well done, Styles,” Hornblower said after some considerable awkward throat-clearing, nodding in approval. “Thank you, for your efforts and for bringing Mr Bush back to us.”

Amazingly, Styles found himself blushing at the compliment; such things weren’t exactly a regular occurrence. “Weren’t nothing, sir.”

“Nevertheless, I’m grateful to you.” Hornblower exchanged a glance with his first lieutenant. “We both are. Aren’t we, William?”

“Indeed we are, sir,” Bush agreed. He looked up at Styles and his eyebrow lifted a fraction. “Late on duty again, eh?”

“Actually, sir - ” Styles began, but then he realised that newly-repaired face was smiling at him, ever so slightly.

“Carry on, Mr Styles,” Bush said, touching his hat in salute, and Styles just laughed, knuckling his forehead in reply.

“Aye aye, sir!”

[silverfoxstole]

“Capitaine! The Hotspur - she’s still there! Thank God for English inefficiency, eh?”

[silverfoxstole]

More Bush and co in the snow. Merry Christmas!

[silverfoxstole]