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20 years old, female, Australian. Mainly into writing fan fiction stuff, feel free to take a look at my user info page on fan fiction.net http://www.fanfiction.net/~snapeyboy Recently starting a new original fiction about Pirates. :) I shan't post any original fiction until they are copyright as I know many people will attempt to steal my work without seeking permission from me first.
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MY FAVORITE LINKS:
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MY RESIDENCE INFO:
City: Brisbane
State/Country: Australia
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BOOKS PUBLISHED:
Hook's Back. (A Peter Pan Fan Fiction as seen on FF.net. Just a Sample, just letting everyone know I don't own this and am not making any money, just displaying how I write)
He had fought for hours, scraping away at the inside of the Crocodile with his hook. His beautiful velvet coat was now covered in the beast’s mucus and some blood, as it had been for the last few days. Or was it months? He had no recollection for the time outside. Slowly, he smelt fresh air. A tiny hole now forming in the Crocodile’s side, and it began to fill with water. He cursed under his breath and tore his hook downward through the hole, the beast letting out a howl of pain as it was torn open from the inside. He broke through the skin, muscle and mucus, legs kicking profusely as he swam toward the surface, the beast’s blood swarming around him. He had a few minutes before the sharks came. It was lucky he had some strength left, for he made the shore in two minutes. He collapsed on his back, and closed his eyes, laughing madly. James Hook was back.
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Curse of Conquest (A Pirates of the Caribbean Fan Fiction seen on FF.net don't own this either, not making any money, and yeah.)
Captain Jack Sparrow regretted leaving his beloved ship behind as he sailed toward port in one of the Pearl’s lifeboats. He sailed alone, taking the opportune moment to enjoy life’s simplicities on his own accord without his crew watching. The port of Tortuga, known for its violence and constant housing of Pirates and wenches. Ah, this would be his holiday. As Jack tied a rope around a nearby post, he leapt onto the darkened jetty and started to wander aimlessly toward the city. He wasn’t greeted by any toll requests, and thankful that they didn’t cross his presence. Jack swaggered with a hint of near drunkenness, but he desired to be drunker than ever. Why? There was no reason to it. It had been a while since a good couple of drinks, the ones that linger in your mouth and cause you to sleep for the next couple of days. As Jack approached the town, he heard gunfire. Something that wasn’t uncommon for Tortuga, and Jack usually started most of the fights himself. He remembered bringing Will Turner here a few months earlier, the boy so cocky and determined to find his beloved Elizabeth. Not even a good-looking wench would change Will’s mind. Sighing relentlessly as Jack entered his usual bar – ducking as a chair flew over his head and knocked out an incoming patron, he looked briefly at the fallen man then back to the one who threw the chair.
“Good aim, mate”. Said Jack.
“Thanks”. The Pirate skulled a nearby bottle of rum most likely drunken by three other men before him.
Jack shook his head and waited for the opportune moment as the man sitting at his chosen seat for the night was shot through the side, and without pity, Jack threw the limp body onto the floor.
“Give me yer best rum”. Jack asked, throwing three shillings on the oak table stained with rum, spit and blood. The bartender was quick to oblige. Jack looked at the figure passed out on the table to his right. A small frame for a male and seemingly short although drunk all the same. He made a mental note to buy this fellow a drink when he awoke.
“So, how ye been, Jack?” The bartender asked, handing Jack his rum.
“Bloody terrible”. Replied Jack, downing his glass in two swigs. The bartender was quick to refill. “Damn women, you know. Sleep with em one night, they try to kill you the next”. He swallowed the next one whole. Still, the figure next to him did not move. “So who is this drunken sort, then?”
“No one knows his name, savvy”. Replied the bartender, quietly. “They say he’s the Captain of the most demonic ship since the Black Pearl”.
“Oh really?” Jack answered dryly, pointing to his glass. “What’s the ships name, then?”
The bartender opened his mouth to reply, but Jack heard the cocking of a pistol and the cold feel of a barrel against his cheek.
“Dead men tell no tales”. Smiled the Captain, a slight pretty-boy look about him, Jack noticed out of the corner of his eye. “Mention my ship once more and I’ll be finishing yer rum, got it?”
“One problem there, mate”. Jack answered without the hint of fear in his voice. “My rum is finished”.
The Captain tilted his head to the side, still keeping his pistol aimed high at Jack’s cheek. “Being the funny one, are we? Oh I love the humorous types. Their screams are more enjoyable while they die slowly compared to the ones that rely on the seriousness of life”.
“Like you, right?” Jack yawned. “I really don’t have time for verbal debates, savvy”.
“Consider yourself on my ‘to kill’ list”. And the Captain re holstered his pistol, picked up his drink and sat at a dark table in the corner.
“Charming fellow”. Jack said to the barman with a grin. “I should buy him a drink”.
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