the water's fine

*sigh* the things I do to avoid doing the dishes.



Heart of Earth, Heart of Sky: Alberto

Disclaimer: First real Supernatural fic. Not beta'd. Gen. Hopefully, nothing is too off from canon, but it just sort of came and demanded. I had an idea to do this last season, one story for every storm, but I never did. Perry, Florida is real. There is a bit more to it than I described, but well, it's Perry. It's located in Taylor County where Alberto is supposed to make landfall tomorrow morning, and I couldn't resist. Oh and not mine, just messing with the 'lore for fun and no profit.


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Also for your enjoyment: The Okefenokee Gator Forcast.

Soonish, but FIRST! I must share a bit of Monkey-That-Was via the song list of my OMG!Favorite!! mix tape circa 2001.

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I will leave it up to you, dear reader, to determine what it means. NIGHT!

Ahemmm...hmmm..

This is Soma, you might of heard of me before; I play such roles as Monkey's Friend Soma and Monkey's Neighbor Soma on the internet.

Well, tonight I have another role in mind, Monkey's Tormenter and Birthday-Spanking-Giver Soma. That's right- you heard me- I will deliver your Decanting Day Paddlings straight from my hand to Monkey's bum. And I will put the full fury of 28 years of punishment for devious deeds long, long overdue... mwah-ha-hah ha.. ha..

ha...

Seriously- you've got until midnight... post here, and I'll spank once for each person who requests it. And but hard, I tell you. If she can sit easy tomorrow, then we have failed.

Rally the forces, folks. Let Monkey know she's loved. <3

Here is the first bit of my Creative Writing project:

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And now we are off to 1850 St. Augustine.

22nd August 1804

Meriwether near poisoned himself today when proving the quality of minerals. Apparently he has been spending far too much time with one of the Canadian scouts, and now shares Fraser's need to taste anything in sight. While this does have certain advantages, which I truely do appreciate, it has also been known to lead individuals towards mortal ruin as evidanced by Meriwether believing it a wise choice to place a sample of cobalt in his mouth.

I advised him there would be no sharing of kisses this night as I have no wish to be poisoned as well.

In all honesty, I have considered taking up with Drewyer instead. He posses a solid knowledge of not only of the ways of the Indians we are likely to come in contact with, but also their sign language. He has a sanguine disposition, deadly accuracy with a rifle, and is hung like a buffalo.

Will consider.

This time for commodorified.

Title: A Drink at the Crossroads
Author: monkeypuzzle
Fandom: Pirates of the Caribbean and Horatio Hornblower movies
Pairing: sorta, kinda Norrington/Kennedy
Rating: PG-13
Length: 12.65 drabbles
Disclaimer: Characters belong to others.
Warnings: Ummm, every ending is a beginning?
Author's Notes: For commodorified who asked for: Hornblower. Wine or port or sherry, but not rum and not drunk. Archie--paired if you like or not, either. My first attempt at anyone from HH, and really not what I originally intended. I hope this is alright.


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Ok, remember this? I bet y'all thought I had forgotten. Nope. Just being slow and over thinking it all as usual.

Anyways, here be the first two. Let me know if you notice any weirdness as I initially typed them straight into the comments, and then only gave them a quick read through (for fear that if I took too long I would get obssesive).


Title: Impromptu
Author: monkeypuzzle
Fandom: Pirates of the Caribbean
Pairing: Commodore/Lieutenant x 2/Pirate
Rating: PG-13
Length: 3.11 Drabbles
Disclaimer: Characters belong to the Mouse
Author's Notes: For firesignwriter and lizzie_omalley. Sorry about the lack of snark, ladies.

Summery: "Kiss him, Andrew."

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Title: Time Was
Author: monkeypuzzle
Fandom: Pirates of the Caribbean
Pairing: Spawn
Rating: PG-13
Length: 3.47 Drabbles
Disclaimer: Characters belong to the Mouse
Author's Notes: For firesignwriter who asked Does Gov. Swann/Sparrow exist?

Summery: "Time was, luv, you were rather fond of my games."


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And the nothingness faded to black.
And the black faded to grey.
And the grey became a cold half-light that he'd not known since that last turn around the bottom of the world.

His sight was filled with odd planes and broken angles and shadows. Shadows that were almost shapes, but he couldn't tell for certain as they morphed in improbable ways. He wanted to raise his hands and press them against his eyes, to try and set his world to right, but the former seemed too heavy, and he wasn't certain the latter were still there. A murmur skittered through his ear as a shadow hovered and shifted above.

There was a pressure at the back of his skull. The scent of the sea sparkled in the murk.

Then they were gone.

The feeble light was blocked. A distant heat barely touched him, and then he tasted ocean as it slid over his tongue.

God help him, but he drank it down deep.

Gacked from circe_tigana who received it from cavalaxis. Circe described the Junque Drawer thusly:

...[it's] the place where you store the mess from your imagination.

Mine contains:

a small porcelain rabbit, brown and slightly chipped; a faded map of Nassau; a shrunken head, tattooed; an old radio, tuning-needle frozen, which receives nothing but Cuban radio stations; a piece of drift wood; a swatch cut from a bright red wedding sari; a daguerreotype of a woman holding a child, both round-faced and full of life; a scattering of broken record needles and sea-glass.

What does your Junque Drawer hold?