| workin' all day for a mean little man |
[Mar. 21st, 2009|10:27 pm] |
The past five months, Phoebe had not flounced. This was a great blow to the entire world, as Phoebe's flounce-osity is what made the Earth's axis spin. Maybe that's why days seemed a bit darker than usual in London.
Not as if she could help it. It wasn't by choice, mind you. Five months of non-stop work at a hospital that was being overrun with injured witches and wizards, some of whom she recognized, ate away at a person's flounce-osity. It was bleak out there. Phoebe was scared.
It was nearly two in the morning when Phoebe made her rounds. She checked on old patients ("Mister Hornsburg, is your dragon bite still burning?") and new patients ("Hi Miss Finnegan, I'm Healer Gates, how are you feeling?"), some of whom were awake while others slept. She didn't confine herself to any one floor. Even if they didn't need her, she liked getting to know the people.
As Phoebe silently took a peek into the fourth floor of St. Mungo's, she took quick glances at each name on the list of patients admitted into the ward: Azlef, Belinda; Odgen, Harold; Prewett, Gideon; Treely, Winston.
She frowned and turned her head in the direction of bed three. The curtains were drawn but she could see movement inside. Maybe it was a sleeping form just shifting or an aware man readjusting, Phoebe had to make sure the face fit the name.
She walked over and whispered through the curtain quietly, so as not to wake anyone who did not wish to be disturbed.
"Mister Prewett? Do you need anything?" |
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[Sep. 7th, 2008|09:51 pm] |
OY. FAB-A-ROO!
What's up, mate? |
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[Aug. 6th, 2008|04:49 pm] |
Every single plant is dead. Not hibernating. Dead. Jeff and my joke of a mother used some sort of spray back in September to rid the plants of "bugs," and did they ask me? NO. Their spray KILLED MY PLANTS. My Muggle AND Magical plants are all dead. I've been growing them since I was six. And they're dead.
Mother still has not commented on the rock she has on her left ring ringer. Fuck fuck FUCK FUCK FUCK MY LIFE ALL OVER.
Why did I even come home? Why? I hate this and I hate home and I hate Jeff and I hate my mother and I hate Portia and I hate this I hate home I hate it I HATE IT. |
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| oo3 ;; all fall down |
[Jul. 4th, 2008|05:45 pm] |
Are the house-elves really striking? Really? Really? Or is that Pettigrew boy full of it?
[Hexed to Julia]
So I got a letter from my dad.
[Hexed to Gideon]
I'm sorry. About what I said a while ago about that Andromeda girl. I'm really sorry. Sorry. Really sorry. |
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| oo2 ;; foil with soil |
[Jun. 14th, 2008|09:09 pm] |
I was trimming the flutterby bushes today when I saw something a bit odd in the back of greenhouse four. There was a pot hidden in a corner, behind the Mandrake pots, was a large growth of Jequirity. For those of you who haven't studied Herbology seriously, Jequirity is one of the most deadly plants in the world. Worst off, the hard coating on the plant was stripped, leaving the toxins free to just mingle about with our lovely abundance of Oxygen.
I don't know who was responsible, but I buried the plant in soil and informed Professor Spout. Lucky for me, I touched the damn thing and my hand is burning like mad, but better than a first year getting curious and eating it, I suppose. Irresponsibility like that bothers me. Who's such a buggering idiot that they'd potentially let someone die? |
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| oo1 ;; thirsty, darlings? |
[Jun. 9th, 2008|09:27 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  horny | ] |
While mixing together some herbs and stolen newt blood other non-illegal items, I created the most delicious drink anyone's ever had. Sure, it makes you randy as sin and will probably lead to an inappropriate rise in snogging and shagging, but hells bells, children. Don't we deserve a bit of fun?
By the way, I am ignoring everyone who knew about this amazingly brilliant Strip Quidditch Game and didn't invite me. I'm looking at you, Julie-Bee. Unacceptable. I would have been all over that. Did you just not want to see me naked? You lot don't know what you're missing. |
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