Plucky British Heroine

Writer's Block: End of the World as We Know It

madwitch@livejournal.com — Fri, 01 May 2009 13:48:51 GMT

Robert Frost speculated about the world ending in fire or in ice. Which do you think is likely to end us all: meteorite, global warming, nuclear weapons, zombies, or the superflu?

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I refer you to this.

Keep the inane writer's block questions coming, LJ.

Writer's Block: Swine Times

madwitch@livejournal.com — Thu, 30 Apr 2009 14:50:33 GMT

Are you worried about catching the swine flu? Do you have a plan for avoiding contagion or dealing with quarantine?

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No, I'm British. It takes more than sniffles and a media panic to worry me. The whole thing is silly.

As long as the tea stocks don't dwindle, the remarkably unlikely quarantine will not bother me in the slightest. Especially not if I can get to Madagascar.

Also, the Falkirk Two (the couple who developed it on their return from their honeymoon in Mexico, and who are now FINE and out of hospital gosh it's so deadly) have apparently hooked up with Max Clifford to sell their story.

*facepalm.jpg*

Writer's Block: The Greenest Grass

madwitch@livejournal.com — Fri, 17 Apr 2009 15:39:09 GMT

Who has it easier—men or women? Why or why not?

Submitted By rona_emo

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I'm just going to get the tube home. Carry on. :-)

Also,
This is a stupid question and rona_emo should feel stupid for submitting it.

madwitch@livejournal.com — Sat, 21 Mar 2009 15:16:19 GMT

I am in love with London: The Biography already, and I've only read the introduction.

"London is so large and so wild that it contains no less than everything".

Bugger.

madwitch@livejournal.com — Thu, 05 Feb 2009 06:58:17 GMT

R.I.P, Lux Interior.

madwitch@livejournal.com — Sat, 22 Nov 2008 12:27:16 GMT

This is hilarious. Ganked from mark13

madwitch@livejournal.com — Mon, 27 Oct 2008 12:31:35 GMT

The most adorable thing you'll see today.

Distractions

madwitch@livejournal.com — Thu, 23 Oct 2008 12:43:44 GMT

Dear Australians, What? I was almost hoping you might be the last bastion of people not doing stuff like this. WOE. Will calling it "dryness" really make that much of a difference?

This is a dangerous news story. Now there is precedent. Do not let your children see this story.

Oh please, please let this be true. Please.

madwitch@livejournal.com — Fri, 17 Oct 2008 15:16:02 GMT

For nmdrkangl, because he's aces.

DarkAngelMetalWorks Says Visit ETSY TEAM MSIA AT: http://metalsmithsinaction.webs.com/index.htm

The light ship is coming

madwitch@livejournal.com — Tue, 14 Oct 2008 14:20:02 GMT

Watch the skies, kids. The truth is out there...

Or, people are crazy. You decide.

Daily Dragon

madwitch@livejournal.com — Sat, 11 Oct 2008 08:47:02 GMT

Daily Dragon

madwitch@livejournal.com — Thu, 09 Oct 2008 11:04:31 GMT

It was one thing with Dr Kangle and Mz Loco having dragons all over the place, but now even the Ditz has fallen to the dragon love, and it's all too much.

I GIVE IN.

This is possibly the most ridiculous question ever. Certainly in the top 5.

madwitch@livejournal.com — Sun, 05 Oct 2008 01:43:36 GMT

It’s the Day of German Unity, marking the 1990 reunification of East and West Germany. In our current period of global instability, do you ever feel nostalgic for the seeming simplicity of the Cold War?

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What drugs is the person that came up with this question on, and where can I get some?

madwitch@livejournal.com — Fri, 03 Oct 2008 21:10:36 GMT

I wrote this for numbedtoe's writing challenge, and now she has seen it I make it public.

Criteria were set for this challenge. Whatever was written had to incorporate some or all of the following:

A porn star turned vampire slayer
A vampire with a tooth ache
A mummy having problems with his HMO
A masked serial killer having a midlife crisis
A witch strangely attracted to a zombie
A zombie who moans arias
A furry hating wolfman (is he self loathing? you tell me)
A wizard who can't cast a proper love spell
A pumpkin who hungers for human flesh

Ahem.

Bambi took one last look out from her hiding place, checking to make sure the street was quiet before she made her move. 2 teenage boys passed on the other side of the road, likely drunk, and she retreated back into the shadow of the trees to let them pass. Once the sound of their tuneless singing had faded into silence, she moved over to the wall. Finding a foothold, she pulled herself up and over into the cemetery, ready for patrol.

Being a vampire slayer was tricky enough, she thought as she made her way through the graves, watching for the tell tale signs of vamp activity. There was always the danger of being interrupted by ordinary humans, or being stopped and questioned about why you were carrying weapons through the streets in the middle of the night. The fact that most of the people she might run in to would know her face, even if it was usually as the thing above the large and expensive breasts, made things a little more difficult when on patrol. Bambi Luscious could not be seen to be violent. Was it too late to switch to BDSM porn, she wondered?
A movement to one side startled her, and she spun around. From a new grave a figure pulled itself out of the earth. Suddenly she was all Slayer, hunting down the newly awoken vamp.

Deimar the Magnificent (known to his friends as Derek, and to his mother as “my precious little pumpkin”) watched as Bambi darted forwards, stake at the ready, and then stopped holding his breath. For a moment there she had seemed to be looking straight at him, but no, the invisibility spell was holding. This spell, at least, he was good at. It gave him a chance to be near her, to collect the vital ingredients for the spell that would make her his. That was all it was. Yes, yes, he had dozens of her hairs in his lab now, several broken nails, dribbles of sweat carefully scraped from the walls that demons had thrown her against, blades of grass crushed under her lithe body as she wrestled the vamps to the ground…
This time. Yes, this time it would work. This time it would be perfect. This time that fuzzy freak would be the one left alone and dreaming of Bambi. The vampire had gone to dust, maybe now was the time? Trying not to make too much noise, just in case it broke the invisibility, he pulled a small jar of powder out of his pocket. He fumbled with the lid, finding it hard to get open, but finally managed to shake some of the contents into his palm. Muttering an incantation under his breath, he blew the powder towards Bambi. This time it would...accidentally hit the other vampire that had ambushed her whilst he’d not been paying attention. As the enchanted powder hit him, the vamp turned, eyes glazed over and dreamy, trying to find him. Deimar backed away slowly, trying not to panic as the vamp came closer. This was not in the plan. Nor was tripping on an old gravestone and falling backwards, arms flailing and praying the invisibility spell worked on vamps.
A growl came from behind him, and then a blur of arms and legs and claws ripped through the approaching vamp and bounded on, heading for Bambi. Deimar cursed under his breath as the fuzzy freak (also known as Pete, local wolfman and part time music teacher) dived in to help his Slayer girlfriend against the vamps surrounding her.

Watching the two of them fight and then celebrate victory, Deimar wondered what it was about Pete that attracted Bambi so. He wasn’t particularly brilliant, he couldn’t hold a conversation on political issues, complex technicalities of magic, or even the ramifications of the fall of the Mongol Empire, he was just 6’3” of muscle and raw, animalistic strength, topped off with a winning smile and an unexpected skill with the harpsichord. Suddenly, it struck him. It was the wolf thing. He’d heard of people having a thing for animals, of course, but it never occurred to him that Bambi could be one of them. Now that he thought about it, the clues were all there. Her name, her fuzzy boyfriend, that’s why the spell had never worked! It couldn’t succeed against such strong odds, he’d have to alter them in some way. Remembering a sign for a convention that was on in town, he ran home to prepare for his transformation. This time…this time, Bambi would be his.

*****

It was easy enough to find the convention, even though they'd been forced to move out of the bigger hall due to death threats (apparently, someone felt that f**king furries should stay the hell away from his town, unless they wanted to eat their fursuits). All he had to do was follow the crowds of people and watch for the ones who were trying to cover their tails under long coats. It was the work of a few moments to find the stall he wanted and make his purchase, the suit that would change his life. Tonight, tonight, his world would change tonight, tonight there would be no messing up. And once it was done, what a team they would make. Bambi the slayer and Deimar the Magnificent, greatest wizard the world had ever known. They'd gain a cult following, get their adventures filmed or written up as comic books, maybe do a book tour, some conventions, and all the while there would be the nights of boundless passion, of Bambi, all naked and glistening and...

The other thing about Pete was that he was often in unexpected places, and walking into him was somewhat akin to walking into a wall. Muttering a terrified apology and praying that werewolves couldn't read minds, Deimar clutched his precious parcel to him and walked quickly away, hoping he didn't look as terrified as he felt.

Pete watched the other man scurry away, for a moment wondering why the scent of fear coming from him was so strong. Then something, dislodged by the impact and the frenzied grab the little man had made at his parcel, came loose. Something that looked a lot like a fursuit paw.
Pete growled under his breath and started to head after him, but checked himself in time. The little man could wait, he had the scent, there were bigger sickos to deal with first.

*****
Later that evening, in his lab, Deimar twisted and turned, admiring himself in the mirror. The way the tail fell was expecially good, and the colour brought out his eyes. Bambi would love it.
Somewhere above him, a tv blared out the news of carnage at the convention, a wild dog had killed several people and injured many more, there was panic. Blessing his timing, Deimar gave himself one last appreciative glance, picked up the love powder and went hunting slayers.

They were in the graveyard, as he'd expected, sitting on an old tomb. Bambi was playing with a stake, twirling it round her long and delicate hands, head cocked to one side as she listened to her fuzzy lover tell her about finding some demon infestation in town this afternoon. Her hair shimmered in the moonlight as she flicked it back, and Deimar felt his knees go weak. But this was not the time to hesitate, this was the time to be bold, to step forward and claim his love. He stepped out from the trees, magic powder in his hand, the incantation on his tongue. Running towards his love he threw the powder at her, shouted the words of the spell. It was working, look, she'd jumped from the tomb and was running to him, stake in one hand, sword in the other...

*****
"Are you sure they were demons, Pete? Only he seemed kinda weak for a demon."

"Bambi, babe, would I lie to you? They're just low level demons, but you know how it goes. Get enough of those in one place and they end up attracting something bigger. You've saved the world again."

"Oh. Good. Let's go get ice cream."

And they did.

madwitch@livejournal.com — Thu, 02 Oct 2008 15:15:31 GMT

Mr Astley thinks it's a wind up. One that he thinks his Mum is behind.

Mr Astley thinks he hasn't a hope in hell of winning. Dearest internet, what do we say to that?

VOTE RICK

madwitch@livejournal.com — Fri, 26 Sep 2008 15:54:46 GMT

Sod this, I'm going boot shopping.

madwitch@livejournal.com — Fri, 26 Sep 2008 13:58:38 GMT

WHAAAAAAAAAAT

Which drugs are these women on? Place your bets now.

madwitch@livejournal.com — Tue, 23 Sep 2008 13:13:56 GMT

Which circle of Hell do you reckon that people with ~*edgy*~ opinions should be sent to?

When foot in mouth disease gets bad

madwitch@livejournal.com — Sun, 21 Sep 2008 21:13:24 GMT

That, or the wine.

Picture the scene. Our flat in Battersea, medusa_nw and I are watching "Strictly Come Dancing" (Dancing with the Stars for you US types). Bette Midler is singing whilst some professionals dance. This seems like a reasonably low rent show for Bette Midler to be on.

Act 1, Scene 1.

Me: How on earth did they get Bette Midler to agree to perform on this?

medusa_nw: Apparently her and Brucie (Bruce Forsythe) are getting it on.

Me: o_O

M_nw: I MEANT THEY GET ON REALLY WELL...

Exit madwitch, pursued by ~~a bear~~ disturbing mental images.

madwitch@livejournal.com — Sun, 21 Sep 2008 17:03:14 GMT

I am making apple crumble.

It smells of yum. I should cook more often.

Possibly the best video ever.

madwitch@livejournal.com — Tue, 16 Sep 2008 21:35:31 GMT

Question!

madwitch@livejournal.com — Tue, 16 Sep 2008 10:59:47 GMT

How do you kill a cartoon mouse?

(I admit, I find it hard to argue with the idea of killing Mickey "most annoying cartoon ever" sodding Mouse)

(Also, a bit more WHAT related stuff for your Tuesday. His conviction doesn't shock me, his defence is hysterical WHAT factor, the whole case is dodgy as fuck.)

madwitch@livejournal.com — Fri, 05 Sep 2008 15:06:54 GMT

sassette726, was that you?

Oh dear god

madwitch@livejournal.com — Tue, 26 Aug 2008 10:25:07 GMT

BBC News 24 has an "Olympic countdown" thing.

It's currently standing at 1431:08:35:05.
This is just silly.

Ahahahahaha

madwitch@livejournal.com — Thu, 21 Aug 2008 18:30:42 GMT

So, remember when I mentioned the BBC news clip with the dead 'ard yoof gang members solving the gang problem for us by shoving cleavers down the front of their tracksuit bottoms? This was just as funny.

Tonight, on "Teenagers not actually as tough and scary as they like to think they are"...

The scene: An estate in Battersea, early evening. Our heroine is walking from the train station to her flat. Ahead of her are a group of 4 youths, one on a bicycle. They are dressed "street", one sports a baseball cap from which the tag still dangles, in an attempt to make him look harder because hey, he must have stolen it. Truthfully, our heroine knows he either asked the person in the shop to leave it on, or bought it from somewhere that sells hats with tags attached as a design feature. Regardless, she decides to slow down and follow them as they walk along, rather than trying to pass. They are taking up much of the pavement, the road is often full of unexpected mopeds (our heroine doesn't like mopeds), and squeezing past seems likely to cause some minor "see me, I'm hard me, I'm brave enough to make comments about people walking past me" issues. She's seen them do this to other passers-by, and they've already noted her presence. But it's maybe 100 yards to the door of the flats.

They slow down. Their conversation gets louder and more "see us, we're dangerous, don't mess with us" as the group gets closer to the flats and the courtyard.

Suddenly, the door to the block bursts open, and a man comes out carrying rubbish to the bins. The youths start to give him the "look", only to stop mid glance as they recoil in horror as what may be the least threatening dog in the world EVER comes out of the flats, stops, looks at its owner (the guy with the rubbish) and then bounds towards the youths, big dappy dog grin, looking like a bouncing ball of fur and as scary as a newborn kitten. It neither leaps up at them nor barks.

The youths squeal and run. The dog looks confused and runs to its owner, bouncing and happy.

Our heroine staggers into her block of flats, where she has to lean against the wall for a minute, as she is laughing too hard to breathe properly.

Finis.

I'm still giggling over this. I may not stop for a while.