I would take it very kindly if anyone were to punctuate the soul-crushing greyness of dissertating by comment-spamming. Bonus points for hot people or retarded .gifs.
I've watched Canada's Next Top Model for Tricia Helfer. CNTM! It is unbearably boring, because Canadians are all so nice and sane. Damn you, Tricia Helfer.
Re: From one crushed-souled dissertator to another
"No ceremony, Doctor, I beg," said the Admiral, smiling: the Leopard's hundred pounds were practically in his pocket, and this man of theirs did not look very dangerous. "Shall we begin?"
"By all means," said Stephen.
"You go down to the other end," murmured Jack, a chill coming over him in spite of the torrid sun.
"Should you like to be given a middle, sir?" called the umpire, when Stephen had walked down the pitch.
"Thank you, sir," said Stephen, hitching at his waistband and gazing round the field, "I already have one."
A rapacious grin ran round the Cumberlands: they moved much closer in, crouching, their huge crab-like hands spread wide. The Admiral held the ball to his nose for a long moment, fixing his adversary, and then delivered a lob that hummed as it flew. Stephen watched its course, danced out to take it as it touched teh ground, checked its bounce, dribbled the ball towards the astonished cover-point and running still he scooped it into the hollow of his hurly, raced on with twinkling steps to mid-off, there checked his run amidst the stark silent amazement, flicked the ball into his hand, tossed it high, and with a screech drove it straight at Jack's wicket, shattering the near stump and sending its upper half in a long, graceful trajectory that reached the ground just as the first of La Flêche's guns, saluting the flag, echoed across the field.
Stephen Maturin totally failing at cricket is vastly funnier than I would have expected it to be.
;sldkjflsa;skdjf YES YES YES. I think it is the fact that he does it so spectacularly - the combination of PWNING, and yet simultaneously FAILING UTTERLY.
Oh, Bean. I feel like I am missing out by not having read/seen Sharpe, but... I've read Cornwell, and his writing just doesn't do it for me. :( So sad.
(meep. I suck at Aubreyad language, so I am just avoiding it. Space, time and logic are... amusing.)
"He's – I'm sorry, Jack, but I'm sure he'd tell you himself. He's a pirate."
Jack was unnaturally motionless for a few seconds; remarkable in the man only because he so rarely stopped moving. His face was a stone. And then, abruptly, he stood.
"I see. Well, if he's still alive after the keelhauling, we'll hang whatever's left of the man—"
"No," Stephen broke in sternly. "That's exactly the problem. You see, I think that the pirate – he saved my life, Jack."
"You think," Jack repeated, glaring at him, already halfway to the makeshift cabin door.
"If one was to come completely clean about it, we saved each other's lives," Stephen admitted. "But sure as I'm standing here, Jack, if he hadn't been there then I certainly wouldn't be."
"Well," said Jack, deflating slightly. "There might be no help for it. But it's a bad business, Stephen, having a pirate captured and letting him live. Morale will take a dive after this, you mark my words. I suppose I should go and see the wretch myself now, though whether I should thank him formally or order his death I'm sure I won't know until I find him."
"Allow me to join you, at least," Stephen said, and stumbled hastily after the captain's retreating back.
The pirate had apparently seen the wisdom in not announcing his identity in order to avoid being made prisoner on a King's vessel. Instead he was making free of the quarterdeck, pacing around and looking out to sea with a proprietary air. The crew eyed him nervously, looking away when Jack came thundering up from below with Stephen only a few paces behind.
"Oh, there you are," said Jack Sparrow, before anyone else could speak. "I don't suppose you keep any rum aboard? For guests? All that running, you know; a man builds up a powerful thirst. Afternoon, Doctor," he added, nodding at Stephen's white-faced stare from behind a furious Jack Aubrey. "And of course," he added with a broad and utterly wicked smile, "there's the matter of my effects."
[I can not go any further without picturing a messy death for at least one of the Captain Jacks. XD]
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Patrick O'Brian: everywhere.
From one crushed-souled dissertator to another
Re: From one crushed-souled dissertator to another
I've watched Canada's Next Top Model for Tricia Helfer. CNTM! It is unbearably boring, because Canadians are all so nice and sane. Damn you, Tricia Helfer.
Re: From one crushed-souled dissertator to another
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*stares at it*
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EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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I'm just saying.
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Don't you wish you had a rabbit the size of a freakin' house?
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N: Think of the poop. And the carrots. The greengrocers' would start to think I was some sort of deviant.
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"By all means," said Stephen.
"You go down to the other end," murmured Jack, a chill coming over him in spite of the torrid sun.
"Should you like to be given a middle, sir?" called the umpire, when Stephen had walked down the pitch.
"Thank you, sir," said Stephen, hitching at his waistband and gazing round the field, "I already have one."
A rapacious grin ran round the Cumberlands: they moved much closer in, crouching, their huge crab-like hands spread wide. The Admiral held the ball to his nose for a long moment, fixing his adversary, and then delivered a lob that hummed as it flew. Stephen watched its course, danced out to take it as it touched teh ground, checked its bounce, dribbled the ball towards the astonished cover-point and running still he scooped it into the hollow of his hurly, raced on with twinkling steps to mid-off, there checked his run amidst the stark silent amazement, flicked the ball into his hand, tossed it high, and with a screech drove it straight at Jack's wicket, shattering the near stump and sending its upper half in a long, graceful trajectory that reached the ground just as the first of La Flêche's guns, saluting the flag, echoed across the field.
Stephen Maturin totally failing at cricket is vastly funnier than I would have expected it to be.
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Thanks to your icon/this comment:
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LKSDJFAL;SDKJFADSF
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"He's – I'm sorry, Jack, but I'm sure he'd tell you himself. He's a pirate."
Jack was unnaturally motionless for a few seconds; remarkable in the man only because he so rarely stopped moving. His face was a stone. And then, abruptly, he stood.
"I see. Well, if he's still alive after the keelhauling, we'll hang whatever's left of the man—"
"No," Stephen broke in sternly. "That's exactly the problem. You see, I think that the pirate – he saved my life, Jack."
"You think," Jack repeated, glaring at him, already halfway to the makeshift cabin door.
"If one was to come completely clean about it, we saved each other's lives," Stephen admitted. "But sure as I'm standing here, Jack, if he hadn't been there then I certainly wouldn't be."
"Well," said Jack, deflating slightly. "There might be no help for it. But it's a bad business, Stephen, having a pirate captured and letting him live. Morale will take a dive after this, you mark my words. I suppose I should go and see the wretch myself now, though whether I should thank him formally or order his death I'm sure I won't know until I find him."
"Allow me to join you, at least," Stephen said, and stumbled hastily after the captain's retreating back.
The pirate had apparently seen the wisdom in not announcing his identity in order to avoid being made prisoner on a King's vessel. Instead he was making free of the quarterdeck, pacing around and looking out to sea with a proprietary air. The crew eyed him nervously, looking away when Jack came thundering up from below with Stephen only a few paces behind.
"Oh, there you are," said Jack Sparrow, before anyone else could speak. "I don't suppose you keep any rum aboard? For guests? All that running, you know; a man builds up a powerful thirst. Afternoon, Doctor," he added, nodding at Stephen's white-faced stare from behind a furious Jack Aubrey. "And of course," he added with a broad and utterly wicked smile, "there's the matter of my effects."
[I can not go any further without picturing a messy death for at least one of the Captain Jacks. XD]
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"Oh, there you are," said Jack Sparrow, before anyone else could speak.
I think this is like my new favourite sentence in anything ever? It is like the COMPLETE DISTILLATION OF JACK SPARROW INTO 12 SMALL WORDS.
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