quietcontrary | Entries tagged with drabble

10 drabbles, 100 words each. Prompts by

lorency.

1. Magic 2. Demon 3. Heritage 4. Powers 5. Psychic
6. Hero 7. Family 8. Immortal 9. Protection 10. Dreams

( Drabbles under here )

If you're interested, let me know the one drabble that you'd like to see expanded.

[Poll #1255868]

4 drabbles from prompts by

egorstandish and

lorency.

The ficathon fic, though? Not so much :(

( because I'm nothing if not contrary )

---

And today was just an odd, sad day for no reason at all. I think we all need days like today so the happy days seem happier, but I don't think that makes them any easier.

( Drabbles, etc, WB/HH, G-R )

(((((

iansmomesq)))))
♥♥♥

Current Mood: sympathetic

It was the strangest of ironies, Bush thought, that the captaincy he had dreamt of would come at the price of the life he had loved at sea.

The silence of his office echoed. Today, someone had left a pistol behind, perfectly balanced and primed and loaded. Bush picked it up and weighed it thoughtfully in his hand for a moment. A dark despair stole over him as he held it, considering – and then the thing was being flung across the room to clatter harmlessly in the fireplace. Bush hid his face in his hands and despised himself for days.

The tense unhappiness that had so consumed Hornblower of late had vanished as suddenly and completely as thunder after a storm. He often laughed now and joked easily with both the Comte and Marie – Bush listened to the endless flow of French which sounded strangely discordant to his ears. Ever thoughtful, the Comte had tried to include Bush in their conversations, but Bush knew that his halting French and awkward manners were out of place amongst their elegance.

Bush sat alone, stump throbbing and knee aching, and wondered that he should prefer the company of a boat to his captain.

Alone in the military hospital and held together by fifty-three stitches as he was, Bush had only his own thoughts for company. He was seldom spoken to and spoke even less, but he found an interest in observing the other patients and their visitors. This kept him occupied through the long, hot days, even as he was thankful that, unlike Hornblower, he had escaped the duty to make ready for the coming trial.

Sometimes the visitors brought brightly coloured baskets – Bush, who had never been partial to fruit in his life, found himself inexplicably yearning for some just the same.

It had been three weeks since Amiens and two weeks since Bush had returned to Chichester. The cottage was the same, the town had not changed. His sisters had welcomed him effusively. The food, though plain, was much better than what he might have expected aboard one of Her Majesty’s ships. There was no hard work to be done, no endless watches through endless nights. He ought to have been content – and he was, in a fashion – but he found it hard to summon much interest for each day.

It was another week before he realised that he was homesick.

Title: Sealonging
Words: 146
Pairing: HH/WB
Rating: R

For

phantomsangel, cos, y'know :)

( Not quite 1.5 drabbles... )

Current Mood: lazy

quietcontrary: Two months ago,

phantomsangel and I had the brilliant idea of writing the 132 LJ moods as drabbles in the Hornblower fandom. Then we realised that 132 drabbles is a lot and we're kind of out of breath after 42 of them *g*

phantomsangel: We wrote these mostly late at night (well, for me) and can neither confirm nor deny being under the influence of any substances whilst writing. Please be kind, as writing 143 (Whatever) odd drabbles does odd things to the mind.

So - we present drabbles Accomplished through to Ecstatic. Ratings G through to R; het, gen and slash.

(If you'd like to comment on an individual drabble, feel free to do so as a reply to the drabble itself. That way it keeps things nice and tidy and pretty!)

(Also, if you'd like to take up part of the A-Z of Hornblower drabbles, or are vaguely interested or something, leave a comment here!)

Current Mood: ambitious!

Title: Captain
Words: 100

___

Bush thinks of the Nonsuch more tenderly than any woman he has ever bedded. He knows each inch of her by touch, his calloused hands alternately gentle and strong. He knows her in each of her moods, has coaxed her through storms and felt her fury in battle.

There is still a wild, reckless joy in knowing that, against all odds and reason, she belongs to him.

But alone in the early hours of the dogwatches, Bush can be caught thinking wistfully of when he was First Lieutenant under a captain finer than what he’ll ever turn out to be.

Title: Body Language
Words: 100
Notes: worldlingo again. For

iansmomesq, who inspired this with her comment to my last drabble: "Poor suffering Bush. If Hornblower really loved him he would have taught him some French during their time on the Loire. :)"

__

The world was scented with sunshine and the grass they had crushed beneath their bodies.

“Dites-l'en français,” Hornblower instructed. “Aujourd'hui est vendredi.”

Bush only snorted and shifted to rest his head against Hornblower’s chest more comfortably.

“I will teach you French,” vowed Hornblower. “Mercredi nous verrons la mer.”

Bush sighed, his breath hot against Hornblower’s skin, and strangely, Hornblower shivered.

“Nous avons été à terre pendant cinq… cinq mois.”

Hornblower’s breath caught; Bush was demonstrating skill with his tongue that he had never displayed while speaking French.

“Je veux…” A soft moan was torn from his lips. “Holy god, Bush!”

___

( Translation )

Current Mood: happy

Title: French
Words: 100
Notes: I speak about as much French as Bush does. This drabble was brought to you by worldlingo online translator and much mangling of French grammar. My apologies!

___

Hornblower laid down another card, trying to ignore Bush’s restlessness.

“Une excellente stratégie, Capitaine Hornblower,” approved the Count.

“Malheureusement, ce n'est pas assez bon,” Hornblower admitted.

The nightly games of whist, the unfailing kindness of the Count, even his love affair with Marie; Hornblower had grown tired of it all.

“Vous êtes un homme de la logique, pas passion,” the Count observed.

“Oui, c'est une intelligence qui sépare l'homme de la bête,” Hornblower replied, and, because Bush’s uncomprehending gaze suddenly irritated him, he added, “Is that not so, Bush?”

Bush looked at him uncertainly. “Aye aye, sir,” he said, dutifully.

___

( Translation )

Current Mood: mellow

Title: A Question of Mathematics
Words: 100
Concrit: Very, very welcome

___

Hornblower had come to know Bush as intimately as he knew his ship. Two handspans from throat to navel, twelve slow breaths a minute. He knew the planes of his body, the angles of his smile. Had found himself, once, calculating the refraction from those blue-grey eyes.

What he could not comprehend – what frightened him – was how the pure arithmetic of the situation gave rise not to cold logic, but to heated emotion.

Hornblower’s mouth hardened for a moment. The answer was simple. Remove the variable, simplify the equation.

Bush would not understand. But then, Bush did not understand mathematics.

Current Mood: still

Title: A Winter's Night
Author:

quietcontrary
Word count: 100
Pairings or characters involved: Hornblower, Bush
Rum to: Bush

Hornblower woke from a fitful sleep in the frigid December darkness. He was shivering uncontrollably beneath the thin sheet and worn blanket that Mrs Mason had provided him with. He might as well have been naked for all the protection they provided from the icy stillness of the night around him, and he had been so cold for so long that he had forgotten what it was to be warm.

Beside him, his cot flush next to Hornblower’s in the tiny room, Bush stirred in his sleep and wrapped an arm around Hornblower’s chilled body without waking from his dreams.

Title: Désespoir
Rating: G
Word count: 100
Pairings or characters involved: Horatio, Archie
Character to give rum to: Bush

The madness of grief had driven him here, to this place, at this time.

The tide swirled around Horatio’s legs, gently pulling him towards the sea. It minded him of Archie’s embrace, gentle and strong and irresistible. Horatio took a step deeper. The colour of the waves were the blue of Archie’s eyes. They were a blue he could happily drown in.

To summon a selkie male: at the high tide, make your way to the shore and shed seven tears into the sea.

Horatio bowed his head and wept seven bitter tears, then cursed himself for not truly believing.