10 January 2013 @ 10:30 am
[For those who know James well, this post is unwontedly casual. His hair is tied into a neat queue, but the camera hits at mid chest, low enough to make it clear that all he's wearing is his shirt. Which, while acceptable by modern standards, is hardly the normal standard of dress. No vest. No coat. No cravat. Randolph would be absolutely scandalized.

Except --]

It appears Professor Lyall has lost access to the community. He maintains all his memories of it, but is unable to view or post any messages, on any appropriate device.

[James seems very calm for someone making this announcement, but that might be because there's silk brocade curtains visible behind him.

They do not have silk brocade curtains on the Dutchman.]

Alexia, could we borrow your device to try? I doubt it would make a difference, but there's no call not to be thorough.
02 December 2012 @ 01:04 pm
I believe I owe the community an apology. Apparently, that... version of myself was born without any sort of filter. Or respect for basic etiquette. At any rate, some of the things I said were inexcusable, and I do apologize to those of you on the community who were subjected to them. Most especially Eames, Arthur, and Lady Maccon.

[Action for Randolph.] )
30 October 2012 @ 09:24 am
[Accidental text]  
[The following is a handwritten note, hastily penned on a scrap of parchment and clearly meant to be private. One might even think it was meant for Randolph, except that the note is very clearly addressed to Lady Alexia Maccon at the top.]


I think cranberry and champagne would be perfectly lovely colors for a wedding, and I'm sure you'll agree as they're both things one can eat. I've no doubt you have some objection or other, so I'll come by for tea and you may list them a length.

Yours always,

[The observant reader may notice a few errant crumbs, all that is left of James's brack.]
13 October 2012 @ 08:11 pm
Accidental Video;  
[The video opens, shaky, on the deck of the Dutchman. After a few seconds of flapping sails and crashing waves, there’s an indecipherable shout and two pairs of feet slam into view.

They pull away from the camera, and soon it becomes evident that it’s James and Will. Each of them has his sword drawn, and they’re circling each other cautiously, but not warily. It’s more as if they’re waiting, almost daring each other to make the next move.

After a few more beats, they engage, their swords clashing furiously. At first it seems like James has the advantage. He pushes William back, towards the steps of the forecastle, but rather than descend, Will grabs onto the rigging with one hand and hoists himself up, bracing his feet against the mast. Suspended there, almost entirely horizontal, he continues parrying James’s attack, until he jumps.

Suddenly, the fight turns in his favor. He pushes James back, to the Dutchman’s railing, and presses until James has no choice but to jump up. Will joins him, still pushing James back as they shuffle along the beam.

James makes a stand, refusing to retreat anymore, and for a while, it looks like they may be stuck. Then James slips -- falling into the ship, not off of it. He rolls, coming up quickly, but not quickly enough. Will’s sword is leveled at his throat.

James raises his eyebrow, tapping his sword lightly. At which point, Will notices that James’s sword is resting against the inside of his thigh, right above his femoral artery. Not as neat a death, but certain to kill him just the same. For a long moment, the two stare at eachother.

And then the video goes black.]
19 September 2012 @ 09:05 am
Really. An entire day dedicated to the speech of the lawless, the dissolute, the disease-ridden, and the ill-educated? I fail to see why this is necessary. Certainly there isn't 'international talk like an urchin day's or 'beggar day' as well. Hasn't the future wreaked enough havoc on the King's English as it is?
03 September 2012 @ 01:00 pm
[The video switches on in BUR offices -- and look, Randolph is there, sitting hunched over a desk. He looks up from his paperwork, obviously unaware he’s being recorded. And then he lets loose in glorious song

Well, not quite glorious. Actually, he’s a little off key. More than a little. And there’s a distinct note of howling when he hits the high notes. But that’s not important. What matters here is the music and heartfelt song.]

Picture perfect memories scattered all around the floor
Reachin' for the phone 'cause I can't fight it anymore

[Look! The video slides to the side, and a second fills the empty space -- It’s James! He’s moving around his cabin in the Dutchman, evidence of heavy drinking all around. Bottles of alcohol, two empty glasses on the table-- it’s an eighteenth century party! By contrast, his voice is a rich baritone, and unlike some people (ahem) he can actually stay on pitch.]

And I wonder if I ever cross your mind

For me it happens all the time.

It's a quarter after one, I'm all alone, and I need you now
Said I wouldn't call, but I lost all control and I need you now
And I don't know how I can do without,
I just need you now

[James moves through the cabin, neatening things up. He comes across the last of a bottle and, with a grim shrug, finishes it off in one swig.]

Another shot of whiskey, can't stop looking at the door
Wishing you'd come sweeping in the way you did before

And I wonder if I ever cross your mind

For me it happens all the time.

It’s a quarter after one, I’m a little drunk, and I need you now
Said I wouldn’t call, but I’ve lost all control and I need you now
And I don't know how I can do without,
I just need you now.

[It’s amazing how, despite being in different worlds, they can actually harmonize. Sort of.]

Yes, I’d rather hurt than feel nothing at all

It’s a quarter after one, I’m all alone, and I need you now

And I said I wouldn’t call, but I’m a little drunk, and I need you now

And I don’t know how I can do without
I just need you now.

I just need need you now...

[Dramatic fade to black? You bet your ass.]

[OOC: James, Randolph, Both]
30 July 2012 @ 01:45 pm
I cannot seem to reach either Randolph Lyall or Lady Maccon via the community this week. I don't suppose anyone has spoken to their vampire associate?
15 July 2012 @ 10:43 am
Accidental Video: Post Canon move!  
[The video focuses on James, on-deck of a ship. He's wearing boots, a pair of white breeches, and (MNSFW) no shirt. It's a pretty nice view, except for the twisted knot of scar tissue on his left shoulder. Enjoy, community.

And he's seated before a bucket of soapy water. Spread out on the rail beside him is a dark blue coat, unadorned, and beside it is a small pile of white and gold trim. In his lap is a mess of white linen, tinged pink. He sighs, letting it heap on the deck as he glares at it. Finally, he speaks to someone off screen.]

I think I'll have to impose upon you for a shirt. I managed to salvage the coat, but this is barely fit for scrap.

[He balls it up, squeezing the water back into the bucket and shaking the shirt out. There's a faded red stain on the shoulder that seems to line up with the scar on his shoulder. With a disgusted look, he balls it up again and dumps it in the bucket. After a moment, he picks up the pile of trim and carries it over to the railing, giving one last look before he lets it fall into the ocean.]
17 June 2012 @ 03:29 pm
Accidental Video Canon Move  
[The video is of James, sitting in his cabin onboard the Dutchman. He's clearly deep in thought, staring at a slew of papers across is desk, but not really seeing them.

Finally, he rises, moving through the ship. It's dark out, clearly long past nightfall, and James moves as if he's afraid of discovery, looking over his shoulder and around corners before he turns them. He descends through the ship until he reaches the brig -- which is full of Singaporean sailors -- and, standing at the front, a woman some might recognize from her time on the community.

There's a rattle of keys as James opens the door.]

Come with me. [He glares when no one moves.] Quickly!

[The men rush for the door, but Elizabeth hangs back, wary.]

What are you doing?

Choosing a side.

cut not ic; text block, video, character death )

[OOC: James, Elizabeth, Bootstrap Bill, Davy Jones

James will be able to respond briefly to comments in the minutes before he dies -- for all the heart wrenching. Unfortunately, though, his world is closed to worldhops -- so no rescuing the admiral.]
10 June 2012 @ 09:03 pm
[This appears to be the most adorable virus post ever. James is in a sitting room that can only be Lord Akeldama's; it's pink with green trim. His arms are out in front of him, and resting the length of them, her head cradled in his palms, is Prudence. James is cooing at her, his cheeks puffed out -- when suddenly he stops. A look of pain and regret crosses his face, combined with the sudden desire to leave Eames for his own good -- all he ever does is hurt him. Which would make perfect sense, if he were with Eames. Clearly shaken, he sets the baby in her bassinet.]

That is certainly unsettling. Arthur, a word?

[This is going to be so awkward to for both of them.]
20 April 2012 @ 06:36 pm
Overall, when I think about the events of the past year, I believe what bothers me the most is that I don't actually mind the damn mermaid. Which is just patently ridiculous. I didn't even put it there, and it is totally inappropriate in every way, but I believe I've become almost fond of the thing.

Of course, my father always said that the urge to desecrate one's flesh is an indication of an undisciplined mind, but it's not as if I did this to myself. Besides, he was often apt to let his prejudices show, especially when he'd been skimming off rum rations. Hardly a shining beacon of morality, in the end.

Good god, why am I telling this to you lot?
13 January 2012 @ 08:16 am
Tell me, Community. How can it be that, even after making what was undeniably the correct decision, it is possible to mourn for something you never truly had? Something that you never could have, nor should you ever want. It's truly an amazing thing, how desire can take hold of even the most right-thinking individuals and destroy any sense of perspective... Amazing, but dangerous.

Perhaps the blame lies, not with me, then, but with the temptation. How is one meant to alleviate guilt for something they haven't done?

[ETA: Misposted, this was supposed to be anon, as are all replies. SORRY!]
21 December 2011 @ 02:23 pm
[A packet of paper hits a the desk and James, being held by midshipmen, drawls,]

I hope you don't mind. I took the liberty of filling in my name.

If you intend to claim these, you must have something to trade. Do you have the compass?

Better. [James breaks from his captors and throws a messy sack onto the desk. It lands with a wet thud.] The heart of Davy Jones.
18 December 2011 @ 06:12 pm
⚔ 007 ⚔ Video ⚔  
[The view from the feed is...upside down. Though it seems to be slowly righting itself until there is suddenly a boot over it. Only for a second though as suddenly the feed clears and Will’s little tin mirror is tumbling again. There’s another boot and the tin tumbles out of where ever it was to land safely on a pile of grass.

Of course now that it’s stilled, there is a lovely view of what it had been trapped in. A giant paddle wheel. With three men fighting each other. On top of it.

Once the viewer pauses to see just who these three men are, the scene is not so bizarre. The who seems to be inside of the wheel is one Captain Jack Sparrow. The man at the top of the wheel is William Turner and the man he is dueling is Mr. James Norrington. The feed focuses for a moment as the wheel continues to move with said men still fighting on, in and around it.


((ooc: Replies will come from Jack, Will or Norry after they stop being little kids and are on their respective ways off the island. Will shall have a headache. Thanks Jack, you jerk))
16 November 2011 @ 09:17 pm
[Hey Ducks, look! It's a dimly lit bar!]

And what's your story?

My story? It's exactly the same as your story. I chased a man across the seven seas. The pursuit cost me my crew, my commission, and my life. [And James takes a swig of rum DIRECTLY FROM THE JUG. His wig isn't looking so good.]


No, not anymore, weren't you listening? I nearly had you all in Tripoli! I would have, if not for the hurricane.

Lord. You didn't try to sail through it?

So, do I make your crew or not? You haven't said where you're going. Somewhere nice? [C'mon, James, what did that table ever do to you?] Am I worthy to serve under Captain Jack Sparrow? Or should I just kill you now.

[Jack stops his daring Escape By Plant and grins cheerfully.] You're hired!

[And James cocks his pistol anyway.] Sorry. Old habits and all that.

[And the dimly lit and shady looking bar erupts into a massive brawl. No surprise. James is in the center of it, still chugging at his cask of rum, while Jack casually moseys his way on out, swapping hats as he goes. Over the din, the video picks up James's voice.]

Come on, then! Who wants some? Form an orderly line and I'll have you all one by one! Come on, who's first?!

[The video ends abruptly as a rather effeminate looking boy brings a wine bottle down on James's head, knocking him out cold.]

[OOC: Black is Gibbs, red is Jack, blue is James.

Or you could just watch it in French.]
15 August 2011 @ 05:02 pm
For some time now, I've been acting as if an immoral action, performed in the name of justice, is... acceptable. Allowable. Although I knew it not to be true, I allowed myself to believe for selfish reasons. I doubted what I knew to be right. It was a test, and I've failed. Things seem to have clarified.

Mr. Turner, your fiancee is no longer in Port Royal. She seems to have absconded with a possession of Lord Beckett's, though I was unable to ascertain what. It seemed imprudent to stay longer than necessary.
11 July 2011 @ 01:07 pm
[James obviously left his book somewhere on deck and has no idea that it's recording. The rain is sheeting down, making it almost impossible to see the people moving frantically across the deck. Men shout back and forth to each other, mostly indistinguishable, but there are brief snippets that broadcast clearly -- 'shifted course' and something about tangled sails.

There's the sudden sound of splintering wood and the shouting increases in volume. The last thing the Community broadcasts, before the video goes dead, is James throwing himself and another man out of the way as a heavy, polished column of yard -- previously the royal yard -- crashes to the deck.]

[OOC: James is a little busy right now, so replies will be forward dated a few hours later. And, if you haven't already, friend add cmdr_scruffy]
14 June 2011 @ 09:03 pm
I cannot escape the feeling that this is a mistake.
22 May 2011 @ 07:23 pm
[Accidental Audio;]  
[There is a crinkle of paper and a soft, clipped English accent begins to speak.]

I don't really want to know how this duck nonsense made its way into the requisition reports, Lieutenant. Remove it, if you would, and then see to it that the supply orders have been carried through to the Dauntless. We're sailing with the tide whether the fresh water makes it aboard or not. Sparrow certainly isn't waiting on us.

[There's a hastily muttered, 'Yes, sir,' and then another shuffle of paper before James lets out a pained sigh.]

Absolute rubbish.

[OOC: James is from the exact canon point as Jack and does not remember his previous time on the community. :D]
28 October 2008 @ 08:49 am
[Backdated to the end of the Musical Virus, and locked to Shuraiya]  

Mr. Bascùd...?
Current Mood: intensely uncomfortable