Had The English Won At Senlac, We Would Have Less Diverse Daleks.

[rionaleonhart]

Oh, dear. I keep wanting to update, partly because I am bored and partly because finding myself confronted by the twin stares of Derren Brown and his Jigglypuff every time I visit my journal is starting to seriously unnerve me, but my fandom of the moment is this ridiculous imaginary universe in which Derren Brown is the Doctor's companion, and I don't want to ramble about that too much for fear of giving away everything that happens in the fic.

Perhaps I could write a few snippets in which Derren and the Doctor pop into fandoms that aren't going to show up in the actual story? Yes, I believe I shall.




"I've worked it out!" the Doctor announces. "The cliff face on the left is allergic to feet!"

There is a pause.

"The cliff is allergic to feet," Derren says.

"I thought maybe it was sunglasses, but it's definitely feet. See, all the Zoombinis with feet are on the other side."

"The cliff," Derren says. "Is allergic. To feet."

"Humans," the Doctor says, rolling his eyes. "Show them a species that's born wearing rollerskates and they'll still have trouble with a little allergic cliff."

-
"I'm sure there are more interesting places to visit than contemporary New Mexico."

"Contemporary for you, maybe," the Doctor points out. "I haven't been in 2008 for aaaaaages."

"I see," Derren says. "And is there any particular reason we've come to a school?"

The Doctor grins. Somewhere inside the building, a bell rings.

Derren's mind goes suddenly blank, and the next thing of which he is aware is dancing in a huge group of brightly-clad teenagers, singing enthusiastically about the end of the school day. He is more than a little perturbed by this. The mildly worrying issue of involuntary singing and the embarrassment of being twice the age of his fellow dancers aside, Derren is not particularly enthusiastic about the end of the school day. The end of the school day means there are many more Channel Four watchers on the street to stop him, making any sort of journey five times longer. The song is a highly inaccurate representation of his feelings.

When whatever has induced this (hopefully) temporary insanity forces him to drop to one knee and serenade the Doctor, however, he decides that accuracy is overrated.

-
Derren has a vague feeling that bursting into giggles may not be the wisest thing to do, given the circumstances. The circumstances, of course, being 'Derren is at present concealed in the undergrowth, downwind from a vampire with incredible speed, strength and senses, who has recently ripped the head off a still-living deer and is probably entirely capable of doing the same thing to Derren'.

But there are only so many reponses possible when a deadly, terrifying predator stands in the sunlight and sparkles.




Speaking of giant mechanical spiders, I have been rewatching the first season of One Tree Hill with my housemates, and I find myself massively 'shipping Haley/Peyton this time around. They would be adorable! Please tell me that there is Haley/Peyton in the future, One Tree Hill watchers.

Comments

[kadrin.livejournal.com]

I blame you for me playing the Zoombinis and guiding Siobhan through a couple of playthroughs. Anyway, my current big fandoms are Warhammer 40,000 and Repo! The Genetic Opera, and I won't subject the Zoombinis to Repo Men. ("But you will to the grim darkness of the far future, where there is only war?" Shut up.)

* * *
Fabius Bile looked over his plan, as much as was possible with his face firmly buried in one heavily gloved hand. On the surface, it all seemed so simple, so elegant, so fittingly brilliant of the Primogenitor - and a perfect solution to a problem that would stymie so many. He'd gone through the path of trials with a full squad of Chosen (and when he had what he wanted from this land there would be a fitting Warp-spawned punishment for the entire pizza troll species, oh yes...) his native brilliance solving each puzzle within the minute, only to find that the fascinating genetic mismatches were guarded by a full detachment of Ultramarines. Hence this small army of auxilliaries, enough to break Calgar's men to fragments, that Bile had been sure he could lead through the puzzles with the greatest of ease.

What hadn't he considered? What had escaped the Clonelord's brilliant mind? What had gone wrong?

"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!" his Orks shouted, as they attempted - once more - to storm over the uppermost bridge, all together in a rush, waving sluggas and choppas in the air.

Ah, yes, Fabius reflected as the Orks flew backwards. He hadn't considered Orks.

"It is not difficult, Warboss," he explained to the biggest of the Orks, trying to keep his patience barely leashed as the Warboss looked down on him with a suspicious eye. "The living sculpture beneath the uppermost bridge has an adverse reaction to your shootas, twin-linked shootas, and big shootas. The living sculpture beneath the lower bridge has a similar adverse reaction to your big choppas and power klaws. You must simply split your army into two parts, in order to safely cross the chasm. In your case, for example..."

Fabius looked over the massive Ork, the vicious power klaw that finished his left arm, and the hefty twin-linked shoota over his back.

"Perhaps I could carry your gun," he suggested.

"You can haz my gun, Chaos-boy, when I'z dead," the Warboss said, before rethinking. "Wait. No you can't. Orkses don't split up. If Orks has a big Waaagh!, and splits it in half, then dere is... four Waaagh!s, all puny..."

"Two," Fabius insisted.

"We com-pro-mise, den, free. Free Waaagh!s dat is not as big as de one Waaagh! so it's like dere's no Waaagh! at all and den I's got no Orks, right?"

One of the army's Gretchin was stacking up the logs that had been blown down into something like a ramp. Fabius forced himself to watch it and wonder why it was doing that in place of trying to follow Ork logic, which he was sure was rotting his brilliant mind. When his research was finished, he decided, the New Man would be able to perform basic arithmetic at the age of two months. "But then you won't get across the bridges," he explained, "and there'll be no chance to fight the Space Marines."

"You tries, Bile, but you is stupid," the Warboss explained, making a gesture that would tousle Fabius's hair if he had any. Fabius stopped himself from filling the Ork with Xyclos needles only through the knowledge that the shots probably wouldn't kill it, and then it would rip his head off. "Orkses can always solve problems."

And with that, he unslung the shoota from his back, and covered the stone faces with heavy barrage fire. Solidly built, both remained completely unharmed, but... apparently, both were very, very allergic to bullets.

[kadrin.livejournal.com]

"While your solution has a certain simple Gordian elegance to it," Bile said, watching the bridges fall into the chasm, "it lacks that practical flair. Had you listened to me, Warboss... Warboss?"

Fabius looked left, and then right. Orks shouldn't disappear this easily, they had no understanding of stealth. Then, behind him, the sound of a very unhealthy engine firing and turning over...

The Orks, piled into the back of their trukk, waved weapons and rude gestures at Bile as they passed him. The trukk hit the ramp already travelling at near-top-speed, sending the logs flying all over the Allergic Cliffs, and giving the vehicle just enough height to carry it over the chasm...

"See yaz later, Chaos-boy!" the Warboss called out, as the trukk landed on the other side. "We'll bring yaz back a souvenir!"

Bile stared in disbelief as the trukk roared off towards the stone guardians, wondering briefly how he could have misjudged the situation so badly. Well, no more auxilliaries, he'd come back with a full force of Noise Marines and Thousand Sons, and he'd unleash the unending might of Chaos on any Ultramarine or Ork or pizza troll that got in his way...

...except that the bridges were down, and probably wouldn't be back up any time soon.

Fabius sat against the tree on his side, burying his face in his hands, and pledging three things to himself - that the New Man would be psychologically unable to drive a truck; that he would never work with Orks again; and that no matter how long he lived (forever, preferably), he would never mention his attempts to capture Zoombiniton to a soul.

[rionaleonhart]

You are amazing, and I feel this is clear proof that there is just not enough Logical Journey of the Zoombinis fanfiction in the world.

I rather like poor, longsuffering Fabius Bile. Even if he is trying to capture Zoombiniton. "While your solution has a certain simple Gordian elegance to it," Bile said, watching the bridges fall into the chasm, "it lacks that practical flair." Amazing!

Also, I love Ork logic.

[emmarrrrr.livejournal.com]

I won't subject the Zoombinis to Repo Men.

THERE CAN NEVER BEE TOO MUCH REPO.

...i feel compelled to write repo!fic now. again. *fail*