Midshipman Ioanite Reporting
I'm new to both the community and to LJ, and I wanted to post here to a) declare undying love for the Hornblower Series and b) post a fic.
I wrote this one night when I was feeling rather silly and possibly hyperactive. Leave now if you expect a coherent plot. But if you want general silliness, then this is right up your alley.
Title: It's Official
Author:
ioanite
Rating: G
(References to slash)
Starring: The HTHS
Archie knew it was going to be a bad day when he heard his best mate, Horatio, shouting at the top of his lungs.
“NO! I AM WELSH, DAMMIT, NOT ENGLISH! IF YOU CALL ME ENGLISH ONE MORE TIME, I WILL REMOVE THAT RIDICULOUS HAT OF YOURS AND PLACE IT WHERE THE SUN DON’T SHINE!!!!”
“Oh, dear, someone spiked his coffee again.” Archie said, shaking his head. He wished he could figure out who was slipping caffeine pills into Horatio’s drinks. As if Horatio wasn’t jittery enough.
He passed by Bush, who was covering his ears at the outburst. “And I thought MY voice was loud and impressive.” He commented, “And by the way, the pink high heels are very fetching, Mr. Kennedy.”
“Pink high…” Archie looked down at the stilettos that clashed ridiculously with his gold buttons. “Oh, damn it all…STYLES!!!”
Styles came dashing to Archie’s side, overshot the mark by several feet, hit the mast, and rebounded, snapping instantly into a salute. “Yes, sir? What can I do for you?”
Archie pulled off one of the vivid pink shoes and brandished the pointy end at Styles accusingly. “What have I told you about swapping officer’s clothing? You’re not bloody Vogue magazine, Styles.”
“Well, considering my name, I thought it would be appropriate if I was more fashion-minded, sir. You should see the job I’ve done on Mr. Hornblower’s hat, sir.”
Bush was already striding down the deck to see what had happened. The moment Archie saw Bush clutching the railing for support, he ran over there at warp speed (meaning he arrived within .0000000000000000000000000001 seconds. Do not try this at home).
Unbeknownst to the hyperactive Horatio, his hat, already stupid looking to begin with, was now neon orange and covered with fake butterflies. He looked like he had an overlarge poppy on his head. Oblivious, Horatio continued to berate the young Midshipman before him who had stupidly taken a dare by his mates (“A fiver says you can’t tell Lieutenant Hornblower that he’s a damn fine Englishman”). “Listen carefully, boy. I am Welsh. Don’t forget it. Or I will personally throw all your clothing overboard and replace it with the ball gowns we found aboard the French ship Le Pouf. Do we understand each other?”
The midshipman nodded, squeaked, and ran away. He decided to spend his five pounds on therapy.
Bush finally felt brave enough to approach Horatio on a rather more silly subject. “Mr. Hornblower, as an art piece, your hat is lovely. As a functioning lieutenant’s hat…you will be laughed out of the Navy.”
Horatio snatched off the hat, took one look, and proceeded to tear the hat to shreds. “God…damn…these…bloody…seamen!”
“Oh, I think they’re already going to Hell, Horatio.” Archie said, biting back the laughter, “Considering what they’ve spray-painted on the back of Bush’s jacket.”
Bush took off the jacket and stared at the fluorescent yellow ‘Built-in Megaphone’ someone had put there. “What the devil…?”
Horatio, who was starting to have trouble focusing (Why had Archie suddenly multiplied into five people?), glanced at Archie’s jacket. “You’ve got one too, Archie.”
Archie pulled it off. There, in bright green, were the words ‘Cannon Fodder’. Archie was less amused than he’d been a moment before. “Ok, Horatio, off with the coat. What did they put on you?”
Off came the coat, to discover…nothing. There was absolutely nothing on the coat that shouldn’t have been there. “NO FAIR!!!” Archie yelled.
But Bush was squinting at Horatio. “Keep your eyes on his face, Bush.” Archie cautioned.
“No, Mr. Kennedy,” Bush said, calmly, “While Horatio’s jacket was unscathed, someone has been rather vicious to his pants.”
“WHAT???” Horatio had already removed his belt before he realized that he was about to moon the entire crew. He ran into his quarters, came out in a new pair of breeches, and spread his old pair on the deck. The three lieutenants regarded the numerous signs written on it with amusement (Well, Bush and Archie did. Horatio was wondering how they’d managed to put sharpie all over his pants without him noticing. Damn coffee…).
“‘Off limits.’” Bush read. “Hmm…isn’t this written right over your rear end?”
“‘Censored.’” Archie read, giggling, “Right over the crotch!”
“‘Sexy ankles’?” Horatio said, staring at the cuffs of the pants.
“Methinks this particular graffiti was done by a rabid fangirl, and not a scurvy crewman.” Archie said, “One who did not appreciate your shower scene”.
Bush was blown away. “A woman who didn’t like that scene? It must be a sign of the apocalypse!”
“No, a sign of the apocalypse is you eating turnips.”
“Or Horatio laughing.”
“Or me surviving for an entire miniseries.”
“You’re still in Battlestar Galactica.”
“True nuff.”
“Word.”
“Am I the only one who finds this conversation incomprehensible?” said Horatio, starting to feel the effects of overcaffination now.
“Yes.” Bush and Archie said simultaneously. Horatio moaned and tried to gather his thoughts (not easy. They were spread out all over the deck. People kept tripping on them.) Meanwhile, Archie and Bush were comparing notes on character tics.
“Ok, so you hate turnips, can’t swim, and have a really impressive voice. I have fits and die mid-show. You have the better deal.”
“You also have the larger fanbase.”
“Point taken…” Archie watched Horatio pick up the thought ‘Do I have to take off my shirt again?’. “What about him?”
“Seasick, scared of heights, walks around like someone jammed a sword up his @$$, tone-deaf (at least in the books), no sense of humor, and has way more luck with women then you or I ever got in the entire series.”
“Think he’ll trade?”
“Not on your life.”
Horatio was trying to cram his thoughts back into his head. He seemed to be having trouble with the one that said ‘I am not getting involved in slash pairings’. Archie went over and jammed the thought into one of Horatio’s ears…where it promptly shot out on the other side.
“I think you might have to let that one go, Horatio.” Archie said gently.
“I will not do slash, Archie!” Horatio sounded desperate, “After that last story…”
“Look, that woman said she was sorry about the gerbils. You think I like it any better? I think we’re the most slashed couple in history.”
Bush, leaning against the railing, smirked. “Three words. Frodo and Sam.”
Horatio nodded. “Point taken. Not to mention Harry and Ron.”
“How about Arthur and Lancelot?” Archie said with a smirk.
Horatio blushed. “I’ll thank you to shut up about that one.”
“Well, you do seem to find yourself in a lot of films that lend themselves perfectly to slash pairings, Horatio. I’m just sayin’…”
“It’s not my fault!” Horatio said, almost near tears.
“Yeah, the depths of some people’s minds…” Bush said with a headshake.
Just then, Wellard ran up. “Sirs…I think someone slipped hallucinogens into Styles’ grog again.”
“What makes you say that?”
“He just jumped up on the bow and yelled ‘I’m the king of the world!’ Now he’s holding Matthews and talking about teaching him to fly.”
Archie, Bush, and Horatio all looked at each other. They realized now that the world they were in was completely insane, and there was nothing they could do about it. All they could manage was to survive until someone rescued them and put them in a more balanced fic. Finally, they all said the same thing.
“It’s official; I’m on crack.”
And they moved on to find Styles before he got his hands on a ‘Heart of the Ocean’.
I wrote this one night when I was feeling rather silly and possibly hyperactive. Leave now if you expect a coherent plot. But if you want general silliness, then this is right up your alley.
Title: It's Official
Author:
ioanite
Rating: G
(References to slash)
Starring: The HTHS
Archie knew it was going to be a bad day when he heard his best mate, Horatio, shouting at the top of his lungs.
“NO! I AM WELSH, DAMMIT, NOT ENGLISH! IF YOU CALL ME ENGLISH ONE MORE TIME, I WILL REMOVE THAT RIDICULOUS HAT OF YOURS AND PLACE IT WHERE THE SUN DON’T SHINE!!!!”
“Oh, dear, someone spiked his coffee again.” Archie said, shaking his head. He wished he could figure out who was slipping caffeine pills into Horatio’s drinks. As if Horatio wasn’t jittery enough.
He passed by Bush, who was covering his ears at the outburst. “And I thought MY voice was loud and impressive.” He commented, “And by the way, the pink high heels are very fetching, Mr. Kennedy.”
“Pink high…” Archie looked down at the stilettos that clashed ridiculously with his gold buttons. “Oh, damn it all…STYLES!!!”
Styles came dashing to Archie’s side, overshot the mark by several feet, hit the mast, and rebounded, snapping instantly into a salute. “Yes, sir? What can I do for you?”
Archie pulled off one of the vivid pink shoes and brandished the pointy end at Styles accusingly. “What have I told you about swapping officer’s clothing? You’re not bloody Vogue magazine, Styles.”
“Well, considering my name, I thought it would be appropriate if I was more fashion-minded, sir. You should see the job I’ve done on Mr. Hornblower’s hat, sir.”
Bush was already striding down the deck to see what had happened. The moment Archie saw Bush clutching the railing for support, he ran over there at warp speed (meaning he arrived within .0000000000000000000000000001 seconds. Do not try this at home).
Unbeknownst to the hyperactive Horatio, his hat, already stupid looking to begin with, was now neon orange and covered with fake butterflies. He looked like he had an overlarge poppy on his head. Oblivious, Horatio continued to berate the young Midshipman before him who had stupidly taken a dare by his mates (“A fiver says you can’t tell Lieutenant Hornblower that he’s a damn fine Englishman”). “Listen carefully, boy. I am Welsh. Don’t forget it. Or I will personally throw all your clothing overboard and replace it with the ball gowns we found aboard the French ship Le Pouf. Do we understand each other?”
The midshipman nodded, squeaked, and ran away. He decided to spend his five pounds on therapy.
Bush finally felt brave enough to approach Horatio on a rather more silly subject. “Mr. Hornblower, as an art piece, your hat is lovely. As a functioning lieutenant’s hat…you will be laughed out of the Navy.”
Horatio snatched off the hat, took one look, and proceeded to tear the hat to shreds. “God…damn…these…bloody…seamen!”
“Oh, I think they’re already going to Hell, Horatio.” Archie said, biting back the laughter, “Considering what they’ve spray-painted on the back of Bush’s jacket.”
Bush took off the jacket and stared at the fluorescent yellow ‘Built-in Megaphone’ someone had put there. “What the devil…?”
Horatio, who was starting to have trouble focusing (Why had Archie suddenly multiplied into five people?), glanced at Archie’s jacket. “You’ve got one too, Archie.”
Archie pulled it off. There, in bright green, were the words ‘Cannon Fodder’. Archie was less amused than he’d been a moment before. “Ok, Horatio, off with the coat. What did they put on you?”
Off came the coat, to discover…nothing. There was absolutely nothing on the coat that shouldn’t have been there. “NO FAIR!!!” Archie yelled.
But Bush was squinting at Horatio. “Keep your eyes on his face, Bush.” Archie cautioned.
“No, Mr. Kennedy,” Bush said, calmly, “While Horatio’s jacket was unscathed, someone has been rather vicious to his pants.”
“WHAT???” Horatio had already removed his belt before he realized that he was about to moon the entire crew. He ran into his quarters, came out in a new pair of breeches, and spread his old pair on the deck. The three lieutenants regarded the numerous signs written on it with amusement (Well, Bush and Archie did. Horatio was wondering how they’d managed to put sharpie all over his pants without him noticing. Damn coffee…).
“‘Off limits.’” Bush read. “Hmm…isn’t this written right over your rear end?”
“‘Censored.’” Archie read, giggling, “Right over the crotch!”
“‘Sexy ankles’?” Horatio said, staring at the cuffs of the pants.
“Methinks this particular graffiti was done by a rabid fangirl, and not a scurvy crewman.” Archie said, “One who did not appreciate your shower scene”.
Bush was blown away. “A woman who didn’t like that scene? It must be a sign of the apocalypse!”
“No, a sign of the apocalypse is you eating turnips.”
“Or Horatio laughing.”
“Or me surviving for an entire miniseries.”
“You’re still in Battlestar Galactica.”
“True nuff.”
“Word.”
“Am I the only one who finds this conversation incomprehensible?” said Horatio, starting to feel the effects of overcaffination now.
“Yes.” Bush and Archie said simultaneously. Horatio moaned and tried to gather his thoughts (not easy. They were spread out all over the deck. People kept tripping on them.) Meanwhile, Archie and Bush were comparing notes on character tics.
“Ok, so you hate turnips, can’t swim, and have a really impressive voice. I have fits and die mid-show. You have the better deal.”
“You also have the larger fanbase.”
“Point taken…” Archie watched Horatio pick up the thought ‘Do I have to take off my shirt again?’. “What about him?”
“Seasick, scared of heights, walks around like someone jammed a sword up his @$$, tone-deaf (at least in the books), no sense of humor, and has way more luck with women then you or I ever got in the entire series.”
“Think he’ll trade?”
“Not on your life.”
Horatio was trying to cram his thoughts back into his head. He seemed to be having trouble with the one that said ‘I am not getting involved in slash pairings’. Archie went over and jammed the thought into one of Horatio’s ears…where it promptly shot out on the other side.
“I think you might have to let that one go, Horatio.” Archie said gently.
“I will not do slash, Archie!” Horatio sounded desperate, “After that last story…”
“Look, that woman said she was sorry about the gerbils. You think I like it any better? I think we’re the most slashed couple in history.”
Bush, leaning against the railing, smirked. “Three words. Frodo and Sam.”
Horatio nodded. “Point taken. Not to mention Harry and Ron.”
“How about Arthur and Lancelot?” Archie said with a smirk.
Horatio blushed. “I’ll thank you to shut up about that one.”
“Well, you do seem to find yourself in a lot of films that lend themselves perfectly to slash pairings, Horatio. I’m just sayin’…”
“It’s not my fault!” Horatio said, almost near tears.
“Yeah, the depths of some people’s minds…” Bush said with a headshake.
Just then, Wellard ran up. “Sirs…I think someone slipped hallucinogens into Styles’ grog again.”
“What makes you say that?”
“He just jumped up on the bow and yelled ‘I’m the king of the world!’ Now he’s holding Matthews and talking about teaching him to fly.”
Archie, Bush, and Horatio all looked at each other. They realized now that the world they were in was completely insane, and there was nothing they could do about it. All they could manage was to survive until someone rescued them and put them in a more balanced fic. Finally, they all said the same thing.
“It’s official; I’m on crack.”
And they moved on to find Styles before he got his hands on a ‘Heart of the Ocean’.