#the kingston shatterpoint

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Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you’ve written, then pass on to at least five other writers (◠‿◠✿) (if you feel like it!!)

Hmm...well this has been in my drafts for ages! In my defence it's hard to pick! But here are the current favourites.

The War of the Ring, an epic-length rewrite of The Lord of the Rings with the Sons of Fëanor added in, which probably features some of the best writing I've ever done and certainly has the most involved plot.

The General and the Grand Admiral, a Star Wars/Lord of the Rings crossover which is the crackiest of crack, but treated seriously. This one is here mostly for the character dynamics, which I love.

Tome'tayl, one of my favourite pieces from my Cin Vhetin universe, which merges Clone Wars canon with the Republic Commando universe. More character dynamics; lots of brotherly bonding, and just a touch of snark and clone piles. I strongly recommend reading the earlier pieces in the series first, though, as it's set in an AU that might not make much sense if you don't!

A Brother is Born for Adversity, my fix-it rewrite of Beat to Quarters in the Horatio Hornblower series. This is part of the Kingston Shatterpoint series, which is made up of ways canon could have diverged from both the book and movie at the end of Lieutenant Hornblower. I actually enjoy rereading this almost as much as I enjoy reading the original, more in some places, because I used a lot of different POV characters where the original author stays in Hornblower's head.

The Return of the Legends, even purer Star Wars crack where the Legends versions of several characters cross into the Disney universe to smack sense into their canon counterparts. It's just as silly as it sounds, but man, it made me feel better to write it!

Thank you for sending me this question, I really enjoyed answering it!

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Please do, I love this idea! 

I have multiple WIPs right now so you get the choice of:

Hornblower (The Kingston Shatterpoint ‘verse), or

Lord of the Rings (War of the Ring deleted scenes)

no excuses writing meme, askbox version

(Nicked from iambickilometer):

drop one of these bad boys in my askbox and i will post, without editing

FIRST — the first two sentences of my current project

LAST — the most recently written two sentences of my current project

NEXT — the next line. meaning i will finish the sentence I’m on and write a new one, which you’ll get.

[insert prompt here] — you post a prompt, and i’ll write three sentences based on that prompt, set in the same time/setting as my current project

THE END — i’ll make up an ending, or post the ending if i’ve written it

BEFORE THE BEGINNING — three sentences (or more) about something that happened before the plot of my current project

POV — something that’s already happened, retold from another character’s perspective

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I’d love to hear more about the commodore fix/it WIP please!

The commodore fix-it is @musewrangler's and my ongoing rewrite of Commodore Hornblower, officially titled The Lion and the Bear. It takes place in the Kingston Shatterpoint fix-it AU, and is almost completely from the perspectives of Archie Kennedy and William Bush (because there's only so long you can spend in Horatio Hornblower's head without going batty). Have an in medias res snippet from a couple of chapters in the future (both musewrangler and I wrote bits of this):

They had reached the village itself, and Archie could see disorderly columns of the enemy pouring in through a breach. Even as they watched, one of the Russian officers was shot out of the saddle. Essen had disappeared into the chaos and Archie could only assume he was attempting to rally his troops up the center. 

He stuck close to his Commodore because the damn fool was drawing his sword and leading a charge. Where the hell were the Russian officers? There was nothing for it but to have his friend’s back. He drew his own sword and followed the admittedly inspiring figure of his friend as he led his ragged handful of Russians gathered from the flotsam and jetsam of the assault in a flank attack on the Prussian column.

The attackers clearly had not been expecting anything of the kind, and even the feeble volley from perhaps two hundred Russian muskets (plus two ramrods, Archie saw to his amusement, fired in their owners' hurry to join the volley before they had even loaded their weapons properly) was enough to throw them into confusion. Horatio was gesturing and bellowing at the men to charge, and though Archie doubted that a single man of them understood the word, in that moment his tone of command was irresistible.

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A gap filler fic about how exactly Hornblower’s cabin wound up with homemade curtains in it.

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Bush measured the distance to the armchair with his eyes, set his jaw, and let go of Hornblower's shoulder to steady himself against the wall. He would walk the whole distance this time, and he would not fall. His body had betrayed him more than once already, and he was tempted to swerve away from the problem, to rest and let Hornblower and Brown tinker with the wooden leg again, and try tomorrow, but in Bush's experience problems did not go away for being ignored. The jar of the wooden leg against the floor pained his still-tender stump with every step, but he kept on. It would probably have been less painful if the leg had been made for him to walk on his bent knee, but in the end he had decided that if he had to learn to walk again, he wanted the use of his knee while he was doing it. He could deal with a little pain along the way. He was dimly aware of Hornblower hovering anxiously just beyond arm's reach of him, but his whole self was concentrated into a single goal, and he had no thought to spare even for his captain. He had made it halfway, and was beginning to hope that his treacherous body would measure up to the task this time, when he swung the wooden leg a little too wide, and felt the tip of it begin to slip. The wall had nothing for him to hold on to, and he braced himself for the sharp pain that accompanied every fall, several oaths already coming to mind, ready for use, but the fall did not come. Long-fingered, powerful hands grasped his shoulders, steadying him, and he looked up into Hornblower's anxious face. There was helpless frustration in his captain's eyes. Hornblower hated to feel useless, and Bush knew with sudden certainty that he did feel helpless now, watching Bush grapple with a problem that only he could solve. As though communicated by touch, that same hopelessness washed over Bush in turn. He had always been able to rely on his own endurance and strength to face even the fiercest of trials. Only once before had they failed him, on the Renown, and even then his battle rage had borne him through the fight until Hornblower arrived to save the day. Now he could not walk, even supported. The feeling that the ground was rolling and pitching under him like a ship, which had so disconcerted him yesterday, returned tenfold, and he put his own hands on Hornblower's shoulders lest he tip over and take his slighter captain with him. He knew that his face was showing all his misery, just as Captain Sawyer had noticed so long ago, but could not bring himself to care. Hornblower looked at him intently for a moment, and then Bush found himself, to his shock, pulled into a tight embrace as Hornblower took more of his weight. He froze for an instant. Hornblower had always been shy of touch beyond handshakes. Even a comradely clasp of the shoulder seemed to discomfit him. But now it was unquestionably true that his captain's lean arms were around his shoulders, offering support and comfort, and suddenly he was desperate that the comfort of that embrace not be withdrawn. He put both his arms around Horatio in turn, and held on tightly, burying his face in his captain's shoulder. Horatio seemed to be the only still point in the whirling room, the only support in a flood of emotion he could not stem. If that support should be withdrawn Bush felt as though he would shatter, torn from his moorings and battered to pieces like their little rowboat in the Loire. He half-expected Hornblower to pull back from the vehemence of his emotion, but instead he felt himself pulled closer, and slowly the flood of misery receded and was replaced by determination. Hornblower, the monarch of the Sutherland under the King, had let go his dignity and the distance he kept, rightly, between himself and his officers, all for the sake of friendship. Bush could not repay that trust with anything less than his best efforts, and for now that meant learning to walk again. He drew back from the embrace, still wondering a little that it had been given at all, and Hornblower must have read his thoughts in his face once again, for he stepped around beside Bush and offered his shoulder as a prop. To refuse such help was impossible even if he had wished to. Leaning heavily on Hornblower's shoulder, Bush set out for the damnable chair again, and Hornblower matched him pace for pace. They reached the chair without further mishap, and Bush sank gratefully into it, his abused body protesting at the unaccustomed exercise. He caught Hornblower's hand when he would have pulled back, however, and caught his eyes before saying, "Thank you, sir," with all the earnestness he could muster. He could never put into words what that embrace had meant to him, any more than he could ever put what he felt into words, and so he trusted in his captain's keenness of mind to read his thought aright. He knew that Horatio must have seen at least some of what he meant, for he looked away, mortified, but with a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. They stayed like that, Bush content in his successful trip across the room but far more in the proof of his captain's affection, and Hornblower standing awkwardly by his chair, torn between embarrassment and pleasure, until Kennedy arrived with a book in French under his arm. Bush shut his eyes hurriedly lest his captain and second lieutenant conspire to try to teach him French again. Whist was an unavoidable penance in this household, for the Comte and his daughter-in-law were avid players, and they were too good as hosts to exclude any of their guests from the night's entertainment on a permanent basis, but Bush saw no need to torment himself with French and its changeable words and absurd spellings and complete lack of any ordinary-sounding words. He would happily leave that to Hornblower and Kennedy.

Alternate version of a scene from the latest chapter of Dead Reckoning, now up on AO3.

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And I’ve written something that falls into each category except for polite disagreements. I don’t really have those with books. It’s either love, hate, or love enough to hate the stuff that doesn’t work.

@musewrangler, I think this is relevant to your stuff too...

This seems pretty spot on 🤣

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Hornblower: (after the battle with the Natividad, seeing that everything on the ship has been repaired in less than 24 hours) "Bush, did you sleep last night?"

Bush: "I got a solid eight minutes. Not consecutively, but still. It's fine. You're not even that blurry."

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Tag Game

I was tagged by @oftincturedwords -- thank you for that, this is fun!

Latest line of my current WIP:

Bush woke reluctantly when Hornblower shook his shoulder. The hay-bale that Kennedy had dragged out for him to sit on while they waited for the gendarmes to go by had been more comfortable than he expected, and he still tired easily.

That’s 41 words and I definitely do not have that many people to tag, but here goes:

@musewrangler, @sanguinarysanguinity, @athoughtfox, @sweetteaanddragons, and @oldshrewsburyian.

Anyone else who wants to jump in, consider yourself tagged! Also, as usual, no pressure whatsoever if I tagged you.

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Satisfied in the knowledge that his captain was asleep, Bush had turned his full attention towards refitting the Lydia sufficiently to bring them safely to Panama, and fend off any trouble they might meet along the way. The Spanish might claim to have no more ships in the Pacific, and they might claim to be England's allies, but it was the business of a ship of his Majesty's navy to be ready for battle wherever and whenever she found it, and it was the business of her first lieutenant to keep her that way at all times, regardless of the current state of international politics. Under his direction most of the wreckage of battle had already been cleared away, the wounded sent below to the care of Laurie and McRae (for what that might be worth), and the dead laid aside where they would be out of the way until such time as they could be buried at sea. Gerard was bawling away hoarsely to starboard as the men used great tackles to lift dismounted guns back onto their carriages. It was a tricky business, especially with a crew so weary, but Bush considered the guns secondary in importance only to the sails and rigging, and was not willing that they be out of action any longer than was absolutely necessary. The men were exhausted, but they were doing their work admirably nonetheless. He spared a glance for Horatio, still asleep in his hammock chair, dead to the world despite the shouting and the noise of the repairs. When her captain was ready for action again, Bush was resolved that the Lydia would be as well. "Handsomely with that tackle now!" he roared at the weary group of seamen who were hauling away a little too fast as they lifted one of the guns. "Handsomely, you lubbers, unless you want to be chasing a loose cannon over the decks again!" Then his eye caught a glimpse of bright colour by the taffrail and he turned to see Lady Barbara standing by it, looking rather lost amid the bustling confusion. Untouched by the action and standing pale in the moonlight among so many men covered in smoke and sweat and blood, she looked like a wandering ghost bewildered by the world of the living. Bush shook his head to clear it, and then regretted it as the lump he had gotten off a falling block reminded him of its existence. The block must have rattled his brains more than he thought if he was thinking things like that. In his abstraction, he nearly hailed Lady Barbara as loudly as he had the erring crewmen. He checked himself just in time and walked over so that he could speak to her without raising his voice. "Your ladyship," he said, and was surprised at the hoarse rasp that his voice made — it had been some hours since he had had occasion to speak in a tone softer than a shout. "You should be below." "I'm sorry, Mr. Bush," she said, looking up to meet his eyes a little wildly. "But I had to come on deck for a little. I had to get away from...from down there." Bush knew what it was like belowdecks after a battle. The cable tier would be dark and damp and deadly quiet except for the moans and screams of the men in the cockpit, which was a horror all of its own. And there were men for whom the silence after a battle carried its own terrors, as the reality of what had happened sank in. Lady Barbara looked like plenty of young midshipmen he had seen after their first real taste of action. "Your first battle, ma'am?" he asked, before realising the absurdity of the question. "Yes, Mr. Bush," she replied, either too caught up in her thoughts to notice the oddity of the question or graciously choosing to ignore it. "It catches most men like that too, the first time or two." She shuddered, looking out over the sea where the Natividad had disappeared as though she knew by instinct where it had happened. "I think I'd be better off with something to do other than sit down there in the cold and the dark and listen to the..." She trailed off and Bush restrained himself from putting a steadying hand on her shoulder. Such liberties were not his to take. Privately he agreed that she would be better with something to keep her mind and hands busy, but there were no tasks fit for a lady on the deck of a warship. As though she had heard his thoughts, she looked back to his face again. "Isn't there anything I can do to help?" she asked. Bush became aware of a small and nervous but respectful presence by his elbow at this juncture, and looked down to see Longley. "What is it, Mr. Longley?" "Laurie sent to ask the captain what he ought to do about the wounded, sir." "Why the devil should he ask the captain?" Longley could not in fairness be expected to know this, but he answered anyway, and Bush put it down as a mark in his favour. "He hadn't had much training before Hankey died, sir. He can manage well enough with the simple things, but splinters and amputations…" "All right, Mr. Longley," Bush cut him off hurriedly, thinking of Lady Barbara still standing beside him. "Tell him to help those he can — at least he can bandage them and stop the bleeding — and give laudanum to those he can't. That's all the captain will tell him, and there's no call to go waking him yet just to worry him over what can't be helped." "Aye aye, sir." "I could help there," Lady Barbara said when Longley had gone, and Bush stared at her, stupefied. "That's not a matter of strength. Only of...of bearing it." Bush did put a hand on her arm this time before remembering himself and drawing it back hastily. "Your ladyship," he said haltingly, "it's no place for a woman down there. You'd be in the middle of…of all that you were hearing in the cable tier. I've known men who couldn't stand the cockpit and never held it to their shame." "I'll hear it no matter where I am when I go below again," she said. "At least if I help I'll know I'm doing something to ease all that pain. Please, Mr. Bush." Bush found himself embarrassed that a peeress should have to ever ask him for anything with that pleading note in her voice. "I can't stop you if you go down there, ma'am. I'll tell the surgeon's mate to take your orders if you like. But I'd never ask you to do it." "And you're not asking me, Mr. Bush. I shall go down directly." She had recovered all her poise with the prospect of a task before her, and stood as gracefully on the shot-furrowed and bloody quarterdeck as she had in the Spanish lugger that had brought her aboard. "All right, ma'am," he said, still reluctantly, but with the sense that if he refused her she would find a way to do what she wanted anyway. "Mr. Longley! Tell the surgeon's mate he's to take her Ladyship's orders as though they were mine, understood?" Longley was checked in his course for the cockpit, and, again to his credit, showed no more than a moment's confusion. "Aye aye, sir!" "And get her a jacket, or an apron, or something," he added, only just before the midshipman disappeared. "If you're to be down there in the middle of all that mess you ought to have something over that dress of yours," he added by way of explanation. "That's very thoughtful of you, Mr. Bush," she said, flashing him a brief smile, and then she was gone, following in Longley's wake. Bush decided then that he would never understand women.

Alternate version of a scene from Chapter 5 of A Brother is Born For Adversity, my rewrite of Beat to Quarters in the Kingston Shatterpoint ‘verse.

[fyeahmeninroyalnavy]

Awwww, how adorable! 😍🥰

Just a little image from a WIP. Because we all know William is the favorite uncle for Hornblower’s kids 😃

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A bonus chapter of Bush & Archie angst, because the muse grabbed me and wouldn’t let go.

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We left Horatio and Barbara engaged at the end of A Brother Is Born For Adversity. Here, at the prompting of @musewrangler, is the wedding!

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The battle between the Lydia and the Natividad draws to its thunderous close.

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Thanks for the tag, @leias-left-hair-bun-again! I am always down to yell at people about my wips, so without further ado, here's the current list:

Kad'au (lightsabre)

Mando'ad Draar Digu (a Mandalorian never forgets)

Ca'chaab (night-fear, the closest I could get to nightmare in Mando'a)

Tegaanal (rescue)

The Time Travel Thing That Won't Leave Me Alone (needs no translation; this is a very demanding muse)

Commodore Fix-It (the only thing on this list that isn't Star Wars)

So...now to tag people (no pressure)! @musewrangler, @mathmusic8 (whoops looks like you're getting tagged from two directions, lol), @kanerallels, @accidental-spice, @trashcanmando (you're also getting tagged from two directions, sorry vod, but I am very curious about those fics we've been hearing about!), and...I'm out of ideas. Any followers of mine who write that I don't know about or have forgotten to list here, feel free to consider yourselves tagged!

WIP Game

Rules: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it! And then tag as many people as you have wips. (You can make your own post or reblog this one!)

thank you for tagging me @karlyanalora! 💕 alas, i have not checked much off since the last time i did one of these - i just keep adding to the pile instead XD

boba shop for boba fett

teatime with wolffey boi

then there were eight (shouldn’t there be 9?)

six of toast

pain. pain pain. pain pain pain pain pain PAIN

the CC boys

the uncle who came to dinner

tup and tiny girls

kyrimorut cousins in the kitchen now with chaos uncles

kal and reader now with extra baby time

niner and yet another horrible no good very bad day

not one but TWO baby showers

introducing VERSIE the CHAOS AUNT

also versie but Drama

The Grandfather

mird eats a snack (it’s not ulya)

………..someone save me from myself XD 

that is. a lot of tags lkjdsfs i’ll just do a few 💕 @winterinhimring @trashcanmando @cats-inthe-cradle @caerulea-divilu @lone-star-ranger @kanerallels @photogirl894 @mathmusic8 @bh-52 @horseluvr00-ff @authortobenamedlater

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Chapter 2 of the Beat to Quarters rewrite is here! In which Horatio is tremendously awkward, Archie is perceptive, Bush is patient, and Lady Barbara Wellesley has no idea what she has gotten herself into. 

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The next chapter of Dead Reckoning is here, covering the winter at Graçay and Horatio learning (or rather relearning) how to be friends with people.