Riona (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
rionaleonhart) wrote2009-07-20 03:54 pm
rionaleonhart) wrote2009-07-20 03:54 pm
Have I Mentioned That You Are Amazing?
I received a fabulously creepy letter from Allegedly Derren Brown today! He expressed his deep disappointment at my failure to participate in Enigma, wished me a happy birthday and concluded with the following paragraph:
Many plans have been made and, without giving everything away, I and several of your friends would be very glad to see you at the side of the boating lake in Regent's Park at, shall we say, six o'clock tomorrow morning. You may want to bring a swimming costume. Everyone's looking forward towatching seeing you.
The postmark on the envelope is for the seventeenth of July, so I have probably missed the Regent's Park incident. I have a feeling that this may be for the best. (And I have no idea who is responsible for this letter (well, obviously Derren Brown is responsible for it, but I get the feeling that he had some help), but it amused me immensely, so thank you!)
SPEAKING OF DERREN BROWN AND CREEPINESS, I was looking through one of my notebooks last night and came across this snippet, which I do not remember in the slightest:
"You see," Derren says, "beyond a certain point, intense pain becomes almost indistinguishable from intense pleasure." He shrugs as best he can against the restraints. "Or at least that's how I experience it."
"And you would so love to think you were unique," the Master says. "No, I don't think you're alone. I, on the other hand, prefer to inflict."
What - what were you writing, Riona?
(Another inexplicable snippet in here: "Oh, dear," Derren says. "I appear to have dropped my Death Note." And then there's a bit of Derren using alchemy to control Edward Elric's mind. Is there any fandom into which Derren Brown cannot be thrown?)
Finally, I was going to wait until I'd completely sorted out my university accommodation for next year before I posted this, but sorting out housing is a miserable business and I've decided I'd like a distraction. So!
Because, whilst there are many wonderful women in my fandoms, I do not write nearly enough about them:
Give me a prompt, and I'll write you a ficsnippet. Your prompt must include at least one female character.
I'm a little nervous about doing this, because it is almost certainly going to result in my attempting to write for characters I have never written before, but I have to start somewhere. Request away!
Many plans have been made and, without giving everything away, I and several of your friends would be very glad to see you at the side of the boating lake in Regent's Park at, shall we say, six o'clock tomorrow morning. You may want to bring a swimming costume. Everyone's looking forward to
The postmark on the envelope is for the seventeenth of July, so I have probably missed the Regent's Park incident. I have a feeling that this may be for the best. (And I have no idea who is responsible for this letter (well, obviously Derren Brown is responsible for it, but I get the feeling that he had some help), but it amused me immensely, so thank you!)
SPEAKING OF DERREN BROWN AND CREEPINESS, I was looking through one of my notebooks last night and came across this snippet, which I do not remember in the slightest:
"You see," Derren says, "beyond a certain point, intense pain becomes almost indistinguishable from intense pleasure." He shrugs as best he can against the restraints. "Or at least that's how I experience it."
"And you would so love to think you were unique," the Master says. "No, I don't think you're alone. I, on the other hand, prefer to inflict."
What - what were you writing, Riona?
(Another inexplicable snippet in here: "Oh, dear," Derren says. "I appear to have dropped my Death Note." And then there's a bit of Derren using alchemy to control Edward Elric's mind. Is there any fandom into which Derren Brown cannot be thrown?)
Finally, I was going to wait until I'd completely sorted out my university accommodation for next year before I posted this, but sorting out housing is a miserable business and I've decided I'd like a distraction. So!
Because, whilst there are many wonderful women in my fandoms, I do not write nearly enough about them:
Give me a prompt, and I'll write you a ficsnippet. Your prompt must include at least one female character.
I'm a little nervous about doing this, because it is almost certainly going to result in my attempting to write for characters I have never written before, but I have to start somewhere. Request away!
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(Also, I haven't watched any third-series episodes for a long time, so I fear my Martha characterisation may be rather wobbly. Sorry.
This was a lot of fun to write, though.)
It's strange: one of her potential housemates (what was his name? Darren?) sees Martha off after the viewing with a hand on her arm and a smile, and she walks away knowing she wants to accept the room but unable to quite place why.
Martha hasn't been living with Piers and Derren for long before she decides that she's never going to trust her instincts again.
"Thank you so much; it's terribly kind of you," Derren says, drawing his leg up slightly.
"Well, tempting as it is just to let you bleed to death, I can't afford to cover your share of the rent," Martha says, pulling the bandages a little tighter than strictly medically necessary. "Have you considered not walking on glass in the living room?"
"Would you rather I didn't practise?"
"Well, yes. I'd rather you didn't prance about on broken glass at all. It's really not a good idea."
"Oh, for God's sake, is there going to be glass in the carpet again?" Piers asks, shuffling in. A strong smell of rot accompanies him. Martha has no idea how she managed to forget, when she was signing the tenancy agreement, that one of the men with whom she would be living was a walking corpse, but she is coming to suspect that it has something to do with the way Derren was speaking quietly and soothingly and constantly to her as she read through all the paperwork.
"We can hoover," Derren says, innocently.
"Derren," Piers says, "you can mutilate yourself all you like, but I'm dead. I can't heal. If you cut open my feet, they're going to stay open."
Martha doesn't know why she doesn't just leave, but somehow she always forgets what she was planning to do halfway through dialling the landlord.
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And hee, poor Martha! Subjected to Zombie Piers AND Derren and his influencing!
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Also, writing this led to my pondering whether living with Derren Brown or Zombie Piers Morgan would be more endurable. It says a lot about how alarming Derren Brown is that pondering was actually necessary.
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Hmm, provided that Zombie Piers isn't interested in my brain, he might be better. At least with zombies you know what you can expect.