I can has journal.

is peeved

2007-12-17T14:31:26Z

Okay, this lunchtime I was watching the news while munching my lunch. I had been enjoying my much-needed day off until this point. Usually the news is informative, lets you know what’s going on in the world, but today a large portion of it was about Diana having said something or other on a point that doesn’t really have any effect on the country whatsoever. Why the hell is this on the news?!

There are more Princess Diana stories popping up all over the place over here, and it’s sincerely getting on my nerves. More than that, in fact: it’s making me angry. Since her tragic and far too early death, there has been nothing but speculation and conspiracy theories. Sometimes I just think they speculate and print newspaper stories about her when there’s nothing else worth reporting and it’s a despicable thing to do. Who are we to believe that it is some sort of God-given right to know everything about her? Who really cares what her relationship with Dodi was? Why does it concern us at all? Because we’re a country full of ignorant busybodies who think it’s our duty to know everything about anyone who is remotely famous. I feel for her sons and anyone who knew the woman personally for all this pointless dirt that is being dug up about a person the country once loved. It’s disgusting and disrespectful.

And while I’m in mid-rant, the same applies for any sort of celebrity or famous person. Why do photographers follow them around, determined to catch them at their worst? Why do we need to know all about them, down to the toothpaste that they use? It’s an invasion of privacy more than anything else. Some would argue that once you become famous you forfeit your right to privacy, and this is simply not true. Yes, these people are well-known, wealthy and good at what they do (for the most part); but that does not mean that we can invade their lives like pests and parasites. If we are invited in to see what their lives are like (e.g. The Osbournes, Hogan Knows Best, etc), then fair enough, because we have been invited onto their home turf and we have permission to see how the other half live, but otherwise it’s just not right. I would be livid if people took random pictures of me and spattered stories about me all over the place. If I had given an interview or done a photo-shoot, then fair enough, but otherwise stay the hell out of my life, you bastards!

In the end, we are all just human, and those with super-human status eat, drink and shit like the rest of us. Hell, even the Pope does it! Slavery ended a good while ago, we don’t own anybody, and we certainly don’t have a basic human right to know every goddamn detail of the lives of famous faces.

*takes a breath, still fuming* Okay, I’m done.

Arrrrrrr breath rrrrrrrrrr!

2007-10-08T20:49:18Z

Chapter 3 of The Sparrow's Nest

P.S. Just a quick thanks to all the people who have put up with my whinging about this story and who have been my continual betas throughout this process (dang, this kinda sounds like an Oscar acceptance speech, don't it?) So thank you Mel, Niggsy and Colin for your tolerance and forebearance! This one's for you.

Where Charlie had felt anxiety and underlying excitement at seeing her father, Sam felt only anger and resentment. Sentiments fuelled by the way the man was sitting, leaning back on his chair, hat on the table, swigging rum as if he wasn’t tearing what was left of a family apart. Sam had been watching him for some time, hidden away in one of the dark corners of the inn. What was so special about this man? His appearance hardly matched the legends surrounding his name. Fight cursed pirates? Send the East India Company packing? This one? Sam doubted he could even stand up. Still, he wouldn’t take his sister away from him, of that he would make certain.

It had not taken long to seek him out, all one had to do was ask where to find Captain Jack Sparrow and people pointed in the direction. Sam knew he had to be on Nassau somewhere, otherwise why would Charlie have come straight to him for help? She had left the beginning of a trail of breadcrumbs that all Sam had to do was follow. Now he had to choose a course of action. Trying to run him through was probably a bad idea, seeing as the captain also had a blade, was a good deal older, and probably better with it drunk than sober. Also, Charlie would never forgive him for just killing him outright. He had to be clever about getting rid of him. Clever meaning getting rid of him without putting his head on a spike.

When he finally decided to move, he crossed the room with purposeful strides, knocking a couple of men out of the way in the process, and slammed his fists down on the captain’s table. Jack barely jumped, just blinking up at the boy in a sort of drunken haze. He blinked a few times, the expression on his face a blank mask.

“... And what can I do for you, lad?” he asked jovially, apparently not reading the anger on Sam’s face, nor the fact that he was almost spitting feathers. The younger Sparrow growled.

“You’re not taking her.”

Jack blinked. “Who?”

“My sister.”

“Ah. ... Which one’s that, then?”

“She’s somehow got it into her head that she wants to be a pirate and go gallivanting off into the sunset with you. I won’t have it.”

Jack paused for a moment, tapping his chin with his fingers and trying to recollect. His eyes lit up as he remembered. “Ah yes, young girl, dark hair, lovely bottom.”

Sam saw red as his sister was mentioned in such a way, and by such a man. Of course, had his rational head been on, he would have realised he was talking about Charlie like that because he was oblivious to her relation to him, but his anger far outweighed rationality. He leaned over the table, bringing his face closer to Sparrow’s. “She’s staying with me. You can find someone else to do your dirty work.”

Jack cocked his head to the side in an almost inquisitive manner. “That would be her choice, wouldn’t it?”

“Not anymore it isn’t.”

“Is that so?” Jack looked the boy straight in the eyes for a long while, all traces of joviality gone. The captain was looking for something, the drunken haze temporarily lifted for a few moments, and father and son stared at each other for a long time. Sam’s emotions were written clearly on his now ruddy face, but Jack’s look was unreadable. Suddenly a glimmer of expression flashed across the older man’s face and he got up, staggering a couple of paces sideways as he donned his hat. “She’s all yours, mate.”

Sam blinked, having not expected to have won that easily. He frowned now in confusion and turned around as the drunken captain swaggered past him. “What?”

“You win,” he said, heading for the door. “She’s yours. Not in the habit of stealing sisters. Well, not your sister, anyway.” He turned and glanced back at him as he opened the door. “Savvy?” And with that, he was gone.

Sam was left blinking at the closed door, wondering quite how he had managed to pull that off. It didn’t matter, anyway. His mission was accomplished and Jack Sparrow was out of their lives, where he belonged.

~*~*~*~*~

Charlie was dressed, groomed, and bolting through the streets at a rate of knots. Sam had left his brothel while she was being attended to by Rose, and she had a fair idea where he had wandered off to. The girls had told her that he had been in a fit of temper when he left, and that just confirmed her suspicions. Her brother had gone off to find Jack, and that did not bode well. She headed for the inn where she had left her father only hours before, regretting that she was already soiling her clothes with sweat.

Seeing the swinging sign above the tavern door only made her speed up, and she burst through the door with such force that she nearly knocked another patron flying. Her eyes scanned the crowd for the captain, but his distinctive figure was nowhere to be seen. She did, however, spot her brother. He was propping up the bar, a mug of rum in hand, and looking distinctly pleased with himself. She was going to swing for him.

Sam swung around on his stool as he heard the door swing open with some force, and he clocked his sister standing in the doorway with a murderous look on her face. His eyebrows rose slowly. The only thing that had remained the same about her clothing was her boots. Otherwise her outfit was completely changed. A clean ivory shirt was worn beneath a brown, sleeveless jacket with a belt at her waist. Her legs sported matching brown breeches and her hair was pulled back out of her face in a messy bun. It was funny, he was sure he had a jacket just like that...

Charlie breathed out loudly through her nose and marched over to Sam, fuming. “What did you do?” she demanded as soon as she was within two yards of him. She surprised herself by grabbing hold of her brother’s shirt and yanking him closer. “What did you do, Samuel?”

“You’re not going with him, Charlie,” he said calmly, gripping her hand and making her release his shirt. Any other sensible man would have backed away at the look in her eyes, but Sam stayed put. “He’s gone.”

He hadn’t even seen the blow coming. Her hand struck his face with such force that it made his eyes water and nearly knocked his head right off his shoulders.

“How dare you?” she uttered, somewhat aware of the silence around them after the sound of the smack. “How dare you make decisions for me, as if you have a say?”

“I do have a say,” Sam growled, his cheek already reddening.

“No, you did have a say.” She backed away from him, shaking her head. “Not anymore. I hope for your sake he’s still here.”

“Charlie, he’ll just-”

“Don’t Sam,” she interrupted, holding up a hand, the anger slowly making way now for hurt. “Just don’t.”
She turned her back on him and ran out of the inn, leaving her brother staring after her, looking totally, utterly lost.

She headed straight for the docks, figuring that if he was still on the island, that that was the most likely place he would be. Her heart thumped in her chest as she searched for him, panicked. She had just found him, she couldn’t lose him now. It just wasn’t fair. She wished she had Rat with her; two pairs of eyes were undoubtedly better than one, but he had been... engaged when she had run out after her wayward twin. It would hardly have been fair to interrupt him.

She had the almost irresistible urge to shout the captain’s name, but she kept quiet for fear of drawing attention to herself. Instead, she searched with her eyes and kept her mouth firmly closed. She ran from jetty to jetty, looking desperately for him and feeling her heart reach her throat. As she came to the last of them, she was beginning to lose hope. She had lost him. She had spoken with him, met him, looked the man who had given her life right in the eyes, and now she would never get the chance to know him.

Charlie’s pace had slowed considerably as she rounded the corner around the back of a ship to reach the last jetty in the port, having little hope left of finding him. She barely had to look to see what her heart had been dreading: there was no one there. Her heart sank to her stomach as she walked along the empty jetty, her boots thunking gently against the wood. She reached the end and sank down onto the floor, her legs hanging off the side and over the gently lapping waters below. She slowly reached behind her head and roughly pulled the tie out of her hair that held it in the bun, causing her hair to flop down in messy ringlets about her face. So, he was gone, then; that was it. There would be no adventure on the high seas for her now, no opportunity to know the man she had spent months searching for. It was all over.

She squeezed her eyes shut and choked back a sob as tears slipped free, rolling down her cheeks. It had all been going so well. She would never forgive her brother for this. Not ever. She sniffed and wiped her cheeks with the back of her fist, easing her eyes open again. As she looked down at her lap, she caught the sight of a pair of boots standing beside her. She blinked.

“Don’t cry, love. It’s a most unattractive way of expressing emotion.”

Charlie looked up slowly, not altogether trusting the familiar voice. She had to take her time and check, just to make sure. First came the boots, the breeches, and the striped sash with all sort of strange things hanging off it, a compass, a sword, a pistol, and further up a hat with hair beneath it strewn with beads and other oddities. Yes, it was him. Jack was looking at her blubbing with something akin to disapproval. He flapped his hands at her, gesturing for her to shift over to give him room.

“Move.”

And move she did, sniffling slightly as she pushed herself along the edge. With a soft grunt the captain set himself down next to her, one leg hanging over the side and the other hitched up so he could rest his arm on it. He looked at her, an eyebrow cocked and his eyes lazily narrowed.

“What’s all this snivelling in aid of, then?” he asked. “Lose something?”

“Nearly,” she admitted, wiping her eyes a final time with the heels of her hands. She took a breath and calmed herself, enjoying the feeling of the cool night air blowing gently over her hot, puffy eyes. “You seem to have distaste for weeping. Don’t you ever cry?”

“Me? No.”He took his gaze from her and looked out across the bay, grinning slightly. “I either drink so much that I can’t remember what my own name is, or I shoot something. You should try it.”

“I would rather shoot my brother,” Charlie muttered, glowering at her hands. Jack surreptitiously moved his pistol from one hip to the other, effectively keeping it out of her reach.

“Ah yes, the brother,” Jack said softly, almost to himself. He remained quiet for a moment, seemingly mulling this over in his mind. “You can’t blame him for caring, love. Had I a sister, I might have reservations myself about letting her run off with a notorious scallywag. We pirates are not always the safest bunch of gentlemen to be around, especially for a woman.”

Charlie arched an eyebrow at him. “Trying to put me off, Captain?”

Jack smiled with one side of his mouth. “Just being honest with you, mate. Make the most of it while it lasts.”

“Oh yes? And what other dangers would you warn me of?”

“Oh, there’s a rather lengthy list, but I would know something first.” He looked at her, leaning back on his elbows and letting his other leg drop to hang over the side. “Would you be willing to forego your life here to take up a risky life out on the ocean? Are you certain this is what you want?” His eyes searched her face silently. “It’s not a quiet life, and not many pirates die of old age.”

“I’m not afraid of dying.”

“No?” Jack raised his eyebrows. “Ever been faced with death?”

“Well... I... not really...”

“Then how would you know if it frightens you?”

Charlie’s cheeks burned and she looked away, suddenly shamed by her rash statement. This man had probably faced death more times than she had had hot dinners, and here she was brashly stating that death didn’t frighten her. She looked down at her hands. “I don’t suppose I would.”

“How old are you, love?” Charlie raised her head again at the sudden question, blinking at him.

“Seventeen.”

“Your name?”

“Charlotte. Charlie, really.” Jack’s mouth twitched up in a smile again.

“Just Charlie?”

“Just Charlie. We bastards don’t tend to get the luxury of surnames.”

“Ah.” Jack breathed, regarding her for a long moment before pushing himself to his feet. “Well, Just Charlie, we had best get moving. Lots to do.”

Charlie blinked again and struggled to her feet herself, dusting off her backside as she did so. “Lots to do? You mean you’ll still have me even if I haven’t brought you a ship?”

“I’ll have you so long as you don’t start snivelling again,” he said, straightening his hat and beginning to walk back up the jetty to the dock. “Shoot one of the more expendable members of the crew next time. Much less hassle.”

“Yes, sir,” she smiled and shook her head, following him. “But aren’t I one of the more expendable crew members myself?”

“I wouldn’t call the first mate an expendable crew member.”

Charlie’s step faltered and she very nearly fell flat on her face. She? First mate? How on earth did that happen? One moment she thought herself abandoned and alone, and now Jack was back and she was given the highest position aboard a ship they didn’t even have without even trying. “What? Me? Why?”

“Because quite frankly I wouldn’t trust the rest of the crew I’ve hired with a wet herring, savvy?”

“And... you would trust me?” Charlie was quite touched by the fact, and it showed on her face as she jogged to catch up and walk beside him. Jack looked at her with a very shrewd expression.

“I’ve not had a lot of luck with first mates,” he admitted. “I trust you to be the exception.”

“I see,” she said quietly, following wherever he led. He had given her quite the responsibility. She wasn’t entirely sure how she was going to manage a crew full of potential ruffians in the captain’s stead. What man would listen to a woman barking orders? She was hardly an impressive woman either. Small, dark, and easily overlooked. She was no Anne Bonny by any stretch of the imagination.

Jack suddenly stopped halfway along the dock, whirling around to face the parade of ships and putting his hand on Charlie’s shoulder to steer her in the same direction.

“Pick one,” he said, gesturing grandly to the selection before them. Charlie blinked, looking first at him, then the ships, then back again.

“Any one?” she asked. Jack smiled benevolently, his hand still on her shoulder.

“Ladies’ choice.”

Charlie caught her bottom lip between her teeth and chewed on it thoughtfully as she surveyed the ships one by one. They would need something fast and armed to the teeth, and she knew enough about ships to be able to pick one of those out. She broke away from Jack’s gentle hold and went to take a closer look at one that had caught her eye. It was a pretty sloop, newly painted in tan and rich brown varnishes, but it was also sturdy and well-built. She cocked her head to the side and walked the length of it. Fourteen guns in all; yes, this would do nicely.

“This one,” she said decisively. Jack sauntered over at his own pace and gave the little boat a once over with his sharp eyes, his fingers lightly tugging at one of the braids of his beard. What exactly he was looking for, Charlie could only guess, but after a moment he nodded.

“A fine choice,” he said, his eyes sliding over to her. “We’ll make a scallywag of you yet.”

Charlie felt something inside her chest swell, and it brought a beaming smile to her face seemingly out of nowhere; it was a very good feeling. So this was what it felt like to have a parent’s praise. It was something she had never experienced before, and she would do what she had to, to get that feeling again. She had no real time to dwell on it, however, as the captain quickly turned and walked back the way he had come.

“Come along, now. Step to; we haven’t got all night.” Charlie blushed and said nothing, she just picked up her pace and jogged to catch up with him. “The proper response is, ‘Aye, Captain’,” he said after a moment. “Let’s practice that, shall we?”

Charlie just about managed to keep the smile off her face. “Aye, Captain.”

“Very good.” He stopped again and whirled around, nearly causing Charlie to crash into him. She had to lean back as he leaned forward, his very being exhibiting drunkenness but his eyes showing perfect clarity. “Before we execute this exquisite example of lawlessness, is there anything here you want to take with you?”

Charlie had to think for a moment, her lip going back between her teeth. She owned very little, save the clothes on her back and the few coins in her purse. She had no trinkets or keepsakes to fetch, no extra clothes. She shook her head, unable to think of anything that she couldn’t liberate from someone nearby.

“No, I don’t think...” she stopped as Jack cocked his head to the side and raised his eyebrows. Suddenly, she gasped. “Rat!” She inwardly cursed herself for being so forgetful of her friend. “I can’t leave him behind, he’d never forgive me.”

“Best go and fetch him, then.”

Charlie nodded curtly with an ‘Aye, Captain’ for good measure, and started down the street at a run. Abruptly, she skidded to a halt and turned, calling back to him: “Will you wait here for me?”

“If you’re not going to drink that...?” he pointed to the flask in her belt. She looked down, plucked it out and threw it to him. He caught it deftly and worked a wobbly bow into the movement. “Much obliged.”

She threw a final smile over her shoulder at him before disappearing down the dark alley leading from the dock, leaving Jack standing there with the little flask. A slow grin appeared on his features as he set his fingers on the cork, ready to pull it free and drink the sweet nectar inside, but he paused before he could loosen it, suddenly aware that he was being watched. His eyes slid down to the side before his head followed. Sitting beside him was a scruffy-looking mongrel, wagging its tail. It looked suspiciously like that dog with the keys.

“What do you want?” he asked it gruffly, eyeing the animal with some suspicion. The dog’s tongue just lolled happily out of the side of its mouth. Jack huffed and returned to his endeavour, tugging at the cork insistently. The bloody thing wouldn’t budge! The captain started to mutter incoherently, getting rather frustrated with the little round cork that was standing between him and his precious rum.

In a sudden flash of movement, the dog at his side leapt up and snatched the flask right out of his hands, then proceeded to bolt down the dock with it. Jack watched the scene unfold, his eyes wide with unmitigated horror.

“Oi! No! Stop!” He shouted, waving his hands in the air frantically. “Come back!” In his desperation, he nearly pulled his pistol on the dog, but it was too far ahead to be shot, so he gave chase instead, arms flailing, and cursing loudly for all of Nassau to hear.

Meep.

2007-10-01T11:10:20Z

Something interesting for you all. XD

What Be Your Nerd Type? Your Result: Literature Nerd Does sitting by a nice cozy fire, with a cup of hot tea/chocolate, and a book you can read for hours even when your eyes grow red and dry and you look sort of scary sitting there with your insomniac appearance? Then you fit this category perfectly! You love the power of the written word and it's eloquence; and you may like to read/write poetry or novels. You contribute to the smart people of today's society, however you can probably be overly-critical of works. It's okay. I understand.
Drama Nerd
Artistic Nerd
Gamer/Computer Nerd
Social Nerd
Anime Nerd
Science/Math Nerd
Musician
What Be Your Nerd Type? Quizzes for MySpace

Arrrr, matey!

2007-09-30T14:18:17Z

And lo! There was chapter two. =D

Rat was hard pressed to keep up with his much smaller companion as she darted through the streets of Nassau. He had clearly not taken into account that one so petite could move so quickly. His long legs were having a bit of trouble matching the pace; so much so that he had to jog to make sure he didn’t lose her. Charlie’s strides were purposeful, lengthy and quick, and she turned corners with such speedy precision that Rat had to fight to stay close behind her. She had promised they were only going a few streets away, but already the young man was out of breath.

“Charlie! Can we slow down just a moment?” Rat took hold of her sleeve and pulled her to a stop, taking this moment to catch his breath. “Where, exactly, are we going? The dock is that way.” He jabbed his thumb over his shoulder. “I very much doubt we will find a suitable vessel docked directly in the middle of town.”

“Well, we’re going to need help in attaining that vessel, are we not?” Charlie plucked Rat’s hand off her sleeve. “We can’t hope to commandeer a vessel all by ourselves.”

Rat’s brow furrowed in confusion. She had neglected to mention that they were going to apply for help. He had assumed they were going to acquire materials, not aid. “I didn’t think you knew anyone in Nassau.”

“Only one,” she said enigmatically, taking hold of his wrist. “Come on, Ratty, we haven’t got all night.”

“Hold on,” said Rat, not budging despite her ceaseless tugging. “Who is this person, and how do we know we can trust him?” Charlie blinked at him, her eyebrows rising. She seemed to skim over the question completely, though whether this was purposefully or naturally done, Rat was not entirely sure.

“It’s funny how you automatically assume that this person is male.”

“Charlie.”

Charlie huffed and let her hands drop. “Jon, he’s just someone I know who lives in the area who has contacts. Trying to take a ship by ourselves is near enough suicide. Can’t you just trust me? Just this once?”

“Trust you?” There was almost amusement in his voice and a sort-of smile twisted his lips. “The last time I heard that, I got my hand stuck in a lobster trap – with the lobster still inside.”

“Well, you just weren’t trusting me the right way...”

“Charlie!”

“Alright, alright! Fine!” Charlie threw her hands up in surrender, sighing as Rat folded his arms across his slim chest. “His name is Samuel. He owns a brothel just around the corner from here, and don’t turn your nose up before you’ve even met him!” she added, seeing the look on her friend’s face. “He’s lovely. Sometimes.”

Rat sighed, raising his eyes to the heavens once more and shaking his head. He seemed to be doing that a lot recently. Whatever compelled him to join Charlie in her adventures, it certainly wasn’t accompanied by divine providence. “And we can trust him because… ?”

“Because he’s… uh…” Charlie scratched the back of her head, looking at the ground. This could only end badly. “He’s my brother.”

There was a long pause before Rat suddenly exploded angrily: “What?!”

“Shhhh!” Charlie took hold of his coat and pulled him into a nearby alley, out of the sight of anyone who may peer out of their windows. They were met with the acrid stench of the open air drains that ran between the houses, and Charlie was hard pressed not to step on any rodents. This was clearly not the most fashionable part of town. She made sure to check the coast was clear before releasing Rat and looking up at him. He was still glowering furiously at her, and it perforated even the darkness of the alley. “Do you want to tell all of Nassau our business?”

“You never mentioned a brother,” he said in a low voice laced with acid. Lying, or withholding the truth, never sat well with Jonathan; especially not between friends. Charlie bit her lip.

“I’m sorry... he just never came up...”

“Never came up?!” he snapped, his voice strained with the effort of keeping quiet. “Charlie, the figures have gone into the thousands, the amount of times I’ve asked you about your family. You talked about your mother, you talked about yourself, but never a brother!”

“Well, I...” Charlie was stuck. She knew why he was angry, any idiot could see that, but she could also see the hurt there. Why hadn’t she just told him? She’d had plenty of opportunity. It just never seemed to fit. Rat’s own family had been so small, and he had no one left. She thought it might have hurt more for him to learn that she had someone to go to in hard times while he had no one. In her slightly muddled brain, this seemed to make sense. She sighed softly and looked down at her feet just in time to watch a rat scuttle over her boot. “He’s my twin.”

Rat took a long breath through his nose, trying to calm himself down. “You lied to me, Charlie. You don’t lie to me.”

“I didn’t lie!” Charlie said defensively, a little louder than was prudent. She checked herself and lowered her voice. “You never asked me whether or not I had siblings.”

“That’s because it’s a question that people with siblings usually ask!” he glared. “What else have you kept from me?”

“Nothing! Rat, I promise...” She reached out to take his hand but it held it out of her reach, his look one of disappointment. His tongue nudged at the inside of his cheek as he fought to quell any nasty comments he might have made.

“Just... let’s get him, shall we? Before our window of opportunity closes.” He made a gesture for her to go ahead of him, his eyes steely. Charlie puffed out a breath, accepting that Rat was in no mood to be apologised to yet, and headed around the corner in front of him.

They had been only paces away from the establishment, and once they were standing in front of it, Rat frowned at the shabby facade of the building. Made of wood and brick, much of it in need of repair, it matched the rest of the area – dark, dull and lacking in any sort of refinery. The wooden shutters on the windows were closed and only muffled sounds of life could be heard through the cracks. Rat sighed, then muttered: “Only a Sparrow could run a brothel at the age of seventeen…”

Charlie ignored him, balling her fist and thumping on the heavy wooden door. The giggling from within stilled for a moment as someone released the bolt on the door and opened it a fraction. A woman was standing there, arrayed richly in jewels and dressed in a very vivid peacock-blue dress with the skirt hitched up to the thigh. She was a glimpse of the pearl that lay within the crusty shell of the building. The green eyes of the blond woman slowly raked over the pair of them, clearly not impressed with what she saw.

“Yes?” Her voice was soft and accented. French, possibly. Her eyebrow lifted sleekly.

“Er, yes…” Charlie began, rather thrown off by the beauty of the woman and brightness of the dress. “We’d like to speak with Mr. Crow, please…”

“Keeping with the bird theme, then…” Rat mumbled. Charlie nudged him. The whore opened the door more fully, leaning against the frame with a casual elegance that seemed to come naturally to her. Her narrowed eyes were fixed on Charlie’s.

“What would you be wanting with ‘im, cherie?” Definitely French, then.

“Can I just talk to him?” Charlie tone was reaching ‘impatient’ and her brow furrowed. She didn’t have time to bandy words with a whore while there was commandeering to be done. “Please?”

The blond clicked her tongue agitatedly and pushed herself away from the doorframe. “’Oo shall I say is calling?”

“Tell him his sister wants a word.” That sent the girl’s pale eyebrows shooting upwards.

“Wait ‘ere,” she said, shutting the door again and locking it once more. Charlie looked at Rat and shrugged. Rat, however, was still not in the best of moods and it showed. He was scowling at the wall next to the door, apparently refusing to look at her. Charlie just sighed and let him sulk. Hopefully he would pull himself out of it soon.

The door suddenly swung open again and in place of the pretty blond whore stood a disgruntled-looking Samuel, who was undoubtedly dashing in his own right. His dark hair was pulled away from his face in a sort of scruffy half-ponytail, a spattering of facial hair was beginning to make a goatee, and his dark eyes were focused on his sister. It was only now that she had met her father that she saw just how much her twin resembled their sire.

“What the bloody hell do you want?” his eyes flicked over her, much as the whore’s had done. “You look bloody awful.”

“… Lovely to see you too, Sam.” Charlie could see that she had clearly interrupted something important. His shirt was ruffled and open to the waist and he looked less than composed. And slightly less than dressed. It would hardly take a great genius to figure out what he had been doing. Sam’s eyes flicked to Rat and an eyebrow rose. He nodded in his direction.

“Who’s your friend?”

Charlie silently brushed the question aside, not in the mood for introductions. “Sam, we need your help.”

“Ah, well, wouldn’t be the first time, would it?” Sam folded his arms and leaned against the doorframe nonchalantly. “What do you want? Money? Men? ... A bath?”

Cheeky bloody sod. Charlie was well aware that she was less than clean, but he didn’t have to point it out so bluntly. She scowled at him and drew herself up as high as she could. She still only came up to his nose. “I’d rather not discuss my business out here, if you don’t mind.” She pushed past him roughly, knocking him against the door in the process in her wake. Sam blinked, quite stunned.

“Oh please, come right in...” he muttered, scowling. He looked over at Rat, who had just the same expression. “You and me both, mate,” he said in agreement to an unspoken statement, then he moved forward and slung his arm around the taller man’s shoulders. “Come on, let’s see if one of my girls can’t put a smile on your face.”

Charlie had made her way inside, but now she was quite stuck. Her brother’s business was lushly furnished and bright, with silk probably all the way from China or something ridiculous, and all around were lounged prettily painted girls in various states of dress and undress, and they made Charlie feel like a weed in a rose garden. They were watching her like cats might watch a mouse; she could even see their tails flopping from side-to-side, ready to pounce.

“Mary!” Sam barked, making Charlie jump and clutch at her chest. A petite, dark-haired girl with the brightest blue eyes Charlie had ever seen trotted over to her employer and beamed at him. It was enough to make one sick. “Mary, my lovely, please take good care off...” he paused, blinked, and looked at his new friend. “What is your name, by the way?”

“It doesn’t matter,” the girl purred, immediately attaching herself to Rat, who seemed to be torn between happiness and terror at being accosted so. “Names can come later.” And she whisked him off before he even had a chance to voice objections, if he could indeed find any objections to voice at all.

“And Rose, darling, do please see to my sister. She’ll frighten the rats.”

Charlie turned on her brother, her scowl fierce. She neglected to notice the pale, redheaded girl who demurely approached her. “Look here, Samuel, we need to talk...”

“We will talk when you no longer offend my nostrils, sweet sister.”

Charlie probably would have given him a well-earned smack in the mouth if a gentle hand hadn’t wrapped itself around her arm and started to guide her away from her brother. She looked over at the young woman and tilted her head to the side, a quizzical frown in place. This one seemed a little different from the others. Her look was more sincere, her features not as striking, but it was her demureness that made her stand out. She had a gentle touch, and she guided Charlie up the stairs and into one of the rooms carefully.

It took time to fill the tub, but it took no time at all for Rose to get Sam’s sister into it. Charlie was left to her own devices (armed with soap, brushes and a cloth) as the girl looked at her clothes disapprovingly. They were so worn and soiled that there was no hope of restoring them to their original glory. She shook her head and set about trying to find her something more suitable. It wasn’t easy, since most of the clothing in the establishment consisted of big bejewelled dresses.

Charlie almost hated to admit it, but she was glad her brother had forced her into a bath. The hot water lifting the grime off her skin was a welcome feeling. Time was precious at that moment, but it almost didn’t matter as Rose emptied a jug of water over her head. She could feel the salt and sweat roll off her skin and it did her temper the world of good. She no longer felt like lumping Sam for delaying her plans. At least, she had felt that way until he decided to march right into the room without so much as a ‘by your leave’.

“What do you want, then?” he said shortly, apparently indifferent to his sister’s state of nakedness. His tone was curt and he was getting straight to the point. Obviously something was gnawing at him. Charlie just glowered at him, lifting her knees up to her chest and folding her arms over them to provide some sort of cover. “You disappear for months and then turn up again, asking for my help? What’s so urgent, Charlie, hmm?”

“I could have told you sooner,” Charlie said acidly, her glare burning a hole in his forehead, “if you hadn’t forced a bath on me.”

“Well, I’m here now,” he leaned back against an antique dresser, folding his arms across his chest and staring her down with a glare of his own. “I’m all ears, sister-dear.”

Charlie paused for a moment. The problem was: where to begin? Mentioning their father straight off the bat was probably not a good way of softening her brother up. She noticed that Rose had made a quiet exit while they conversed. It was probably wise, since this was likely to become a very heated conversation.

“I need help in commandeering a vessel,” she said at last, shifting slightly in the wooden bathtub. “Just a sloop, nothing too impressive, but I need manpower to take it. I thought you might know of some sailors who might be able to help.” Sam arched an eyebrow. “For payment, of course. Eventually.”

“And why would you want to commandeer a vessel?”

“... It’s something to do?”

“Charlotte.” Sam’s look reminded her just how bad a liar she was to people she cared for. Especially Sam. The disadvantage of being a twin was that you could automatically tell when the other was lying through his or her teeth, or at least trying to, in Charlie’s case. She sighed softly.

“Look, I just need a ship...”

“Why don’t you start with tell me where you’ve been these past months,” he said coldly. “And why you neglected to tell me, leaving me a scribbled note of farewell instead of taking the trouble to say goodbye.”

“Sam, I...”

“You could have died!” Sam suddenly shouted, propelling himself from the dresser and standing before her with fists clenched at his sides. “You could have drowned out on the sea and I wouldn’t have known! You could never have come back and I would have had to live with the fact that I never got to say goodbye to you!”

Tears pricked at Charlie’s eyes, whether from guilt or Sam’s screaming, not even she was sure. She averted her eyes, her breathing coming rapidly in an effort to stop herself from crying.

“Oh, don’t start that,” was the impatient response. At least he had stopped screaming for the time being. Charlie took a shaky breath and blinked rapidly.

“I’m sorry...”

Sam’s arms went back to being folded across his chest and he stared at his sister for a long time, willing his sense of relief at her being safe to overcome his anger for her leaving in the first place.

“Yes, well, I should think so, too,” he finally muttered, trying to hold on to his anger and indignation as long as possible. It didn’t last long as the first tear dripped onto his sister’s cheek. With a sigh, he crossed the small space between them and knelt beside the tub, putting himself back in her eye line. He pushed her hair out of her face and kissed her forehead. “Daft cow.”

Charlie sniffed loudly and wiped her cheeks, though it was quite fruitless, since her face was wet with bath water anyway. Sam smiled just a fraction, letting his hands drop from her head. “Get cleaned up, and then get some food down you. You’re as skinny as a scarecrow.” He braced his hands on his knees and pushed himself up to stand once again. He turned, as if to leave, but Charlie stopped him.

“Sam, that’s not everything.” She watched him turn and frown, and suddenly her stomach was in her feet. She felt like crying again simply because the worst of his temper was still to come. He folded his arms, silently waiting for her explanation. “I found him.”

Immediately his eyes narrowed to black slits and his arms unfolded, his hands ready to ball into fists. “Found who?”

“You know who, Sam,” she muttered, watching his eyes change from cold to hot in an instant. She braced herself, ready for another verbal onslaught of increased magnitude. She felt like gripping the sides of the tub for support.

“Let me see if I have this right,” Sam began, his voice like a glacier. “You ran off without so much as a ‘goodbye’ so you could flounce around the ocean looking for a man who couldn’t care if we were dead or alive?”

“You don’t know that...”

“Yes I do!” he exploded. The third explosion of the evening. Charlie seemed to have a knack with angering the men in her life at that moment. “We grew up in Tortuga, Charlie, and as I understand it he was a frequent visitor. How could it be that he never found us?”

“Tortuga is a big place, Sam, and I don’t think he goes there looking for potential bastard children!”

“No, clearly he goes there to make more!” That was a disquieting notion. He may not have gone there with that purpose in mind, but it may well have been the outcome of a few of his other conquests.

“You’re not being fair!”

“Fair?! I’ll tell you what’s not fair. Sitting on a dock, staring out at sea and waiting for a father that would never come.”

“I was there, Sam, I know! I’ve gone through it too, but the difference is that I’m willing to give him a chance.” She was clearly not backing down on this one. “Are you going to help me or not?”

“Help you? Now? Ha!” Bitterness laced Sam’s voice, and it hurt Charlie to hear it. “I’m close to drowning you in the bloody bath, you traitorous wench!”

“... Fine.” Charlie gripped the sides of the wooden tub and pulled herself out of the water, no longer concerned with any sort of modesty. She was far too irate for that. So furious, in fact, that she could no longer bring herself to shout. “This is why I left without a word,” she snatched the towel Rose had left for her and wrapped it around her. “I knew you would be like this. You won’t even help me with the one thing I want-”

“Oh, of course,” Sam drawled, his body tense with emotion. “It’s always about what Charlie wants. She has no care for who she may be injuring in the process.”

“It’s what pirates do, isn’t it?” she spat, just about ready to strangle him. “Act on selfish impulse?”

“Oh, so you’re a pirate now, are you? Did meeting dear Papa cause this sudden change in vocation?”

Charlie said nothing. She turned her back on him and resolutely stared at the wall, unwilling to respond to his accusation. Sam just bristled, and the air seemed to crackle with the energy. She could feel him glaring at her back, but she refused to turn.

“You know what?” he said at length, his voice back to its former chill. “I will help you, if only to get you out of my sight. If you’d rather be with him than me, then go, and don’t bother coming back.”

Charlie flinched as he slammed the door with a force that suggested it may just fall off its hinges next time someone tries to open it. This was not going well at all.

Pirates!

2007-09-26T20:46:48Z

I wrote something. Yes. Wanna see? Click linky. =D Chapter One of a story called "The Sparrow's Nest".

There he was. At last she had found him in this dimly lit, crowded inn. He sat alone at the table, leaning back in his chair with his booted feet up on the rough, wooden surface. He held a bottle of rum in hand and he looked at it like he was reacquainting himself with an old, beloved friend. Jack Sparrow’s love for rum was widely known, as was his history - sea turtles and all. The good Captain was a living legend, and Charlie was sure he was aware that many pairs of eyes were trained on him, as if he were some manner of mythical creature.

His hand moved as he brought the bottle neck to his lips, making Charlie start in her seat. She had been watching him so intently that the slightest movement made her clutch her own bottle as if it were a lifeline. He fascinated her as much as he frightened her. Was he anything like she had imagined he would be? Well, in all honesty, she could barely remember what she had imagined now that the man was before her. Where he had been a mere dream before, now he was a man of flesh and blood – a man who could very well send her on her way. It was very possible. He had come to Nassau to find a crew once more, since the one he had previously had picked a very inopportune moment to take off with his ship. Word was that Barbossa had possession of the Black Pearl for a second time and Charlie felt angry for Jack. There was a certain amount of honour among thieves and particular lines that one did not cross, and that mutinous git had crossed that line more than once.

“Well?” said a voice beside her, making her jump once more. “Aren’t you going to talk to him?”
The voice came from Jonathan Wright, otherwise known as ‘Rat’, and he was Charlie’s closest and only companion. He was watching her with a sort of exasperated impatience and his bottle of rum was already half empty where Charlie’s was as yet untouched. He was two years her senior, at least a foot taller, and for months he had scoured the Caribbean with Charlie in search of the elusive Captain Sparrow. Now that they had finally found him, it seemed to irritate Rat that it was taking her an eternity to stop staring, get off her backside and exchange words with him.

Charlie bit her lip apprehensively. “Come with me?”

“No.”

“… Why not?”

“He’s your father,” he replied shortly. “I’m not going to hold your hand.”
This did not make Charlie feel any better. In fact, it made her feel worse tenfold. She was once again reminded that this was not just a legendary captain, not just a man whose opinion she could acknowledge or discard as she chose – he was her father, her sire, and he was completely oblivious to it, so far as she knew. Charlie searched Rat’s long face for some sort of comfort or reassurance, but all she found was mild irritation. She started tugging at a thick lock of her near-black hair nervously.

“What if he says no?” she asked, her voice hushed. Rat raised his eyes to the ceiling with a heavy, exaggerated sigh.

“Then he says no and you’ve lost nothing,” he said matter-of-factly. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, as if to ward off an oncoming headache, then lifted the hand up to run it through his long, ratty brown hair. With a sudden movement, he smacked his hand flat on the table and glowered at his friend. “Charlie, come on! You’ve more steel than at least half the men in this room. Where has it gone? Just go over there and tell him that you want to join his crew.”

“Easier said than done, Jonathan,” Charlie hissed, a scowl creasing her dark features. “You wouldn’t find it so easy meeting your father for the first time.”

“Therein the difference lies between us,” Rat said, his tone purposefully dispassionate. “You want to meet your father. I couldn’t care less if mine were alive or dead.”

“That’s bitter.”

“You expected something less?”

Charlie just sighed and turned her attention back to the seasoned pirate who had already moved onto his second bottle of rum. Her stomach was twisting uncomfortably and it made her feel nauseous, but she closed her eyes and dwelled on Rat’s words. More steel than half the men here? Ha! All of them, more like. She opened her eyes again and raised her rum bottle to her lips. She drained good deal of it before pushing herself unceremoniously to her feet and striding over to the Captain’s table. In her wake, Rat was smiling.

“Captain Sparrow.” Charlie stood before him, back straight and her face full of determination. Sparrow’s figure froze for a moment, as if he were waiting for a slap to the face, then his eyes flicked up to the face of the girl in front of him. Charlie allowed herself a quick intake of breath – they had the same eyes. Jack appeared not to notice this as his eyes drifted smoothly from head to toe and back again. He seemed to be admiring her, taking in her slim figure even through her fairly ill-fitting and dirty clothing. He grinned, gold teeth glinting in the dim light.

“Have we met before, love?”

Charlie opened her mouth to answer, but with alarming precision for a man who had ingested two bottles of rum, he curled an arm around her waist and pulled her down into his lap. She held her breath as his face came closer to hers than any face had ever come before. Her eyes crossed as she tried to focus on his nose, and she tried not to wrinkle her nose at the smell of his breath. Her heart was thumping hard in her chest, and it was not a pleasant feeling at all.

“I would be sure to remember a pretty little thing like you. Or at the very least… you would remember me.”
Jack moved closer to her, his mouth on a collision course with hers. Charlie had never moved so fast. She was out of his lap in the blink of an eye, standing two steps away and holding her hands up in a ‘stay away’ gesture. Jack stared at her, his expression a mixture of incredulity and… was that hurt? His brows knitted together and his appearance was akin to a dog that had just been kicked.

“Captain, you misunderstand my intentions…”

“Indeed?” Jack stood up, swaying slightly as if he were onboard a vessel instead of on solid ground. “I understand my intentions perfectly.” Once again the arm shot out and caught her waist, bringing her back against him. Ready for it this time, Charlie braced her hands against his chest, ready to push against him. This was not the first meeting she had imagined at all.

“I want to join your crew!” Charlie blurted out in mild panic, pressing firmly against his chest.
The change in Jack’s lusty expression was almost comical. His head jerked backwards as if he had suddenly come across an unpleasant smell and a frown conquered his features. His hands remained on her waist, but there was distance between them now, and Charlie finally permitted herself to breathe.

“… Is that so?” he said slowly, his eyes scanning her face. Instead of looking for pretty features, he was searching now for traces of deception. His dark eyes narrowed slightly and for a moment he was very still. “I’m not terribly fond of having women on my ship, savvy?”

“What?” Charlie could feel her face falling. “Why not?”

“Most of the women of my acquaintance either slap me, or try to kill me,” he let his hands drop from her waist and he sat back down in his chair, picking up his rum bottle once more and taking a deep swig. “One of them succeeded. I simply cannot found their logic.”

“But… ” Charlie was lost for words, what could she say to that? It was an incredible thing to say, but for unknown reasons she could well believe it. She let out a steady breath, trying to think of ways to convince him that she was not a pirate killer. “You can trust me, sir,” she finished lamely, then almost winced at her own words.

“On what grounds, young miss? You’ve given me no reason to trust you.”

“I’ve given you no reason to distrust me,” she countered, folding her arms. Jack arched an eyebrow, regarding her differently again.

“Touché.”

“I have been honest with you from the beginning of this awkward meeting, and I don’t appreciate you throwing it back in my face with the unfounded accusation that I can’t be trusted just because I’m a woman.” For someone who didn’t know what she was going to say to the captain, she was doing rather well. “Savvy?”

The way she threw his own coined phrase back at him with a good deal of sarcasm and scorn made Jack raise his other eyebrow, making them both disappear beneath his hat.

“I’m capable, able-bodied-“

“I’m sure you are, love.” The grin had returned. Charlie scowled. Lecherous git.

“And you have no good reason to decline the offer of my service.”

Jack blinked, looking rather surprised. “I do.”

“Oh yes? And what’s that?”

“It’s bad luck to have a woman aboard.”

Charlie was just astounded. She was very close to just walking away from the man. Was this the man who had escaped the Locker? Cheated death and defeated the East India Trading Company? Her only hope was that first impressions could be deceiving. The only thing stopping her was the irrational wish to know him, her father. There had to be something more to him than this. She took a deep breath to calm herself down before attempting to reply to the ridiculous statement.

“… Do you even have a ship, sir?”

Jack blinked again, thrown off by the swift change in subject. He got up once more, as if to make a firm objection, furrowed his brow and looked at the young girl as if she had just said something utterly ridiculous. “Of course I do. It just happened to be borrowed without my permission.”

Charlie paused, taking a breath and looking at the floor for a moment. She had little to barter with, and nothing that the captain would appreciate. Suddenly, she had an idea. It would be difficult, but she might just have the means to pull it off. “... If I could get you a temporary replacement, would you let me aboard?” It was a very good deal, in Charlie’s opinion, and Sparrow would be a fool to pass it up over flimsy superstition.

Jack leaned back slightly and cocked his head to the side. “And where would you acquire the coin for such a venture?”

“Who said anything about purchasing?” Charlie grinned a familiar grin, though hers was decidedly lacking in gold teeth.

Jack’s expression matched hers, and anyone who looked could see a certain resemblance. “Ah. So which ship do you intend to commandeer, then?”

“A sloop. Something light and fast, not requiring many men to crew her.” Charlie scratched her cheek with her finger as she thought on the possibilities. “How many will we have? Crew, I mean.”

“Including you and I?” asked Jack. She nodded. “Two.”

“Three.” Rat had gotten out of his seat, apparently having been eavesdropping the entire time, and he loomed over the both of them. So much so, in fact, that Jack nearly fell over looking up at him. “Well, between a Captain and a woman…“ This earned a healthy glare from Charlie. “…you need someone to do the donkey work.”

“Your name, sir?” Jack seemed to be interested in who this tall youth was, or at least what the lad could do for him.

“Jonathan Wright.”

“Rat,” Charlie filled in helpfully. Jack frowned and leaned towards the girl conspiratorially, speaking out of the side of his mouth as if the boy couldn’t hear.

“Bit on the large side for a rodent.”

Charlie smiled. “It’s a long story.”

“Friend of yours, is he?”

“Yes.”

“… Fine. But if he starts chewing holes in things, he’s getting given to the cat.”

Rat blinked and looked at Charlie, an eyebrow raised. She was giving him much the same look in return. Their captain was ever so slightly mad. Charlie took a breath and clapped her hands together.

“Well! Best get started. Care to assist me, Rat?”

“So soon?” Jack’s smile was not exactly innocent as one of his hands wandered around to the small of her back and started to stray southwards. “Commandeering is more a… morning activity.”

“Uh… but my wiles work best in the evening.” Charlie moved away from the roaming hand, looking fairly uncomfortable. Rat looked close to pulling her away from him himself.

“Wiles, eh?” Jack leaned closer, his eyes all the darker for doing so. “Make sure to save some for me, love.”

“Will do, Captain,” Rat voice was crisp and sharp, and he had hold of Charlie’s arm. Arguing with the man would be fruitless, so agreeing and hoping he would forget by morning was the best course. “Come along, Charlotte. Let’s leave the captain to his rum.”

Before Charlie could even respond, she was tugged firmly away from the scene. She would have been grateful if it hadn’t looked like she was a bad child being dragged away for a firm walloping. As soon as they reached outside he let go of her, and flinched at the look she was giving him. It could have curdled milk.

“That was so dignified, Rat, thank you.” The sarcasm alone could have strangled him. Rat cleared his throat, his cheeks growing red.

“Well, uhm, we should get started,” he said briskly, obviously trying to brush of the embarrassment. “Wiles will work better if you’re not dressed like a boy wearing his father’s oversized clothing.”

“… Just keep talking, Jonathan, just keep talking.”

stickeh @ 2007-02-01T21:15:00

2007-02-01T21:16:18Z

Random:

George has a crush on meeeee!

2006-08-04T10:56:55Z

Social Life at Hogwarts

Your friends love you. You aren't well-known around the school, just within your house. You are very outgoing and love to have fun. You get decent marks in class and play quidditch.

Harry: Doesn't know you very well, but thinks your nice and funny.

Ron: Thinks your a good person and wishes he was as good in Quidditch as you.

Hermione: She thinks you should think more about your grades, but thinks you are still a good role-model.

Ginny: Thinks you are the perfect role-model and hopes she'll be like you, which means she wants to have guy friends like you.

Neville: Doesn't talk to you because you are older than him and are kind of intimidating.

Fred and George: Fred thinks you are a great prankster partner and George has a crush on you. They love that you always help them with their pranks.

Oliver Wood: Has a huge crush on you, probably because you are just as quidditch obsessed as he is.

Cedric Diggory: Thinks you were a great quidditch player and thanked you profusely (before he died) for setting him up with Cho.

Cho Chang: She is like your younger sister. You watch over her and you were the one who set her up with Cedric. She adores you and will miss you when you graduate.

Lavender Brown: Doesn't know you very well. Doesn't talk to you either.

Draco Malfoy: Only knows your name and hates you for always kicking his arse in quidditch.

Pansy: Doesn't know you.

Crabbe and Goyle: Same as Pansy

Dumbledore: Thinks you are a very bright witch.

McGonagall: You are the apple of her eye. You are excellent in Transfiguration.

Hagrid: Likes you because you are nice to him.

Snape: Hates you. You suck at potions and he doesn't let you forget it.

Voldemort: Doesn't think of you as a threat or possible ally. Doesn't care about you at all.

Reputation: The Quidditch Girl.
Take this quiz!

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Hey, Oliver Wood does too. Awesome. =D

In which Stick drew HALLADAN OMFG!!

2006-07-17T21:41:46Z

Chyeah. I actually managed a half decent piece of art. Specially for you, Boz. ^_^ Hope you like:

Complete with crappy attempt at Middle-earthy Tolkien writing. XD; Please click to enlarge. =D He's obviously at a fancy to-do, since he's shaved, put a comb through his hair, and put on clean clothes. XD

In other news, I finished the essay that's three (count 'em, three) weeks late and sent it off to the Tutor of DOOM. The job search continues. -_-;

Meh...

2005-12-09T17:44:03Z

Well, an update on my non-existant love-life. Screw him. And I don't mean in the literal, pleasurable kind of way. We passed each other in the corridor and he didn't even look at me. He knew I was there alright. He just blatantly ignored me.

Screw you, hor.

Meh, it's not like I was in love with the guy, so heartbroken isn't the right word. Disappointed *points to mood* would be a better description. Just another guy who at first seems really nice and gentlemanly and cute...then he goes cold on me. Git. *gives the two-fingered salute*

In other news, I got a nasty papercut today and I did absolutely no work at the office. I've been christened the Filing Elf by workmates of moi. Am quite pleased with that, as Elves are teh spiff. ^_^ I also treated myself to some lovely smelly bath things, which I shall be using later, and I am well on my way with the plotting of the humungous story (hopefully a book one day) that I'm planning for. I'll probably post about that soon. After the hot steamy bath of inspiration.

I'll just have to pretend that a certain Mr Bloom is sharing the tub. ^_~

Blargh!

2005-11-15T11:54:33Z

I actually have to do stuff today...isn't that awful? I have to walk three miles into town, pick up some stuff, and walk three miles back. So yes. Lots of walking.

On the plus side, when I get back I should have sufficient inspiration to start writing my fanfic that has been floating around my head for a little while. I'll pop into the bookstore and have a rummage around for any Tolkien books that I don't actually own...though I think I have them all. XD; Or, alternatively, I could get that book on Faeries I've wanted for ages and ages. That could help me with my original fiction. *huggles Lane*

Everybody loves Lane.

Lane: *smug*

Even if he is six inches tall. *snerkage*