sheldrake

I just wrote a fic. It's a short fic. It's not a particularly good fic. But it is something. A something written by me with my own eyes and fingers and brain. I'm posting it straight away without much careful checking or editing, because it's really just me proving I can still write words, which apparently I can. And that deserves a glass of wine, don't you think?

Title: After the Glorious Revolution
Fandom: The Ridiculous Russell Brand
Pairing: Matt/Russell
Warnings: I haven't put a great deal of thought into this. And it is stupid.
Disclaimer: This hasn't happened. YET!
Summary: Why Russell really shouldn't be allowed to organise an actual revolution.

( Up the Revolution! Or not. )

I wasn't going to post anything at all about the bloody Ross/Brand debacle, but I cannot contain myself any longer. I'm sorry, guys.

Jonathan

Russell

Thank you for listening. Goodnight!

Title: Scenes from the End of the World, or The Last Kid on Earth (But One)
Pairing: Russell Brand/Noel Fielding
Summary: It's the end of the world; why not go on holiday?
Rating: R-ish
Warnings: Sex, violence, the end of the world and rude words.
Disclaimer: Harmless fiction. No claims made, no offence intended.
Notes: About time I got rid of this. I hear it's quite good if you actually post the stories when you've finished them.

( I can has apocalypse nao? )

I simply DO NOT HAVE TIME to go to work tomorrow! I've got TOO MUCH OTHER STUFF to do!

*throws huge tantrum*

ps. does anyone else want there to be russell brand/alan cumming? or is that just me?

Stop giving me fic ideas! Honestly, just look at this list of things I'm not going to write:

Russell and Noel are the last two people on Earth. (Written quite a lot of this, stalled due to lack of knowledge of Butlins-type holiday camps)
Russell is an eccentric Victorian detective living in an attic, Matt is his long-suffering servant, Julian is a client, Noel has fallen into the clutches of evil in a opium den (thought of this ages ago, never going to write it, why won't it go away??)
John Sheppard meets Neil Hannon somewhere implausible and they hang out together looking great in suits and talking about horses. I'm thinking kidnapped at a wedding.
Danny Hargreaves from the Doctor Who special effects team, er... I dunno, is involved in torrid affair with the stunt co-ordinator? In Sylvia's pink jumper? Where exactly is this going, lazlet?
Archers fic. Not involving Will Grundy, unless I can write the sort of shameless character-bashing fic that all fandoms ought to have at least one of before you can call them a proper fandom. ("What's that, Spearmint? Will's fallen into the bio-digester? Oh well, never mind. At least we won't have to listen to him whinging on about the bloody kite any more.")
Oh God, I'm kind of ashamed for some reason, but... I keep finding myself shipping, not Ten/Donna, but David Tennant/Catherine Tate.
These two come courtesy of Mark Gatiss in the DVD commentary to The Lazarus Thingy (that was the title, wasn't it?):
"The Space Baftas".
"Martha sitting her theory test". That's as in, the theory test you have to pass before you get to do the Companion practical test. 'You are in pain. Do you a)...'

Also. Colin Baker said something about the Sontarans being dead butch. That needs to be an icon.

Er. I think that's it for now.

Ok. So let me say first that absolutely none of this is my fault. It is entirely down to justwolf, and the fact that she is SICK. Ok, yes, I wrote it, but I used someone else's brain thoughout, thus ensuring that mine remains unsoiled.

Let us first get one thing clear. This fic is, hmm, 99% harmless fluff. The other one percent, however, is NOT FIT FOR HUMAN CONSUMPTION. Let us get another thing clear. This is a story featuring Russell Brand, Christopher Biggins, and the concept of sex. If, having read that, you are actively looking for somewhere to throw up, I suggest you move on, post haste! RUN AWAY WHILE YOU STILL CAN!

Right, have they gone? Welcome then, all three and a half of you, to my fic. Mind bleach will be required. :)

Title: Larger than Life
Pairing: Russell Brand/Christopher Biggins. Kind of
Rating (if you are justwolf): R for Really quite tame, actually, I'm afraid.
Rating (if you are other people): R for RUN AWAY RUN AWAY RUN AWAY!
Disclaimer: Oh, really. As if.
Warnings: SERIOUSLY DISTURBING IMAGERY, I'M NOT JOKING! Er... some senior members of the royal family may also be indirectly involved.
Less dramatic warnings: Come on, it's not that bad.
Summary: Christopher is a big fan of olive oil, you know.
Notes: Look, this only came about because of Russell's shameless flirting on The Big Fat Quiz of the Year 2007. It's all his own fault.
Are you sure about this: y/n?

( LAST CHANCE TO PREPARE THE MIND BLEACH! )

Title: Living With the Effects of Involuntary Temporal Slippage -- A Case History
Fandom: The Mighty Boosh RPS
Pairing: Noel Fielding/Julian Barratt
Rating: PG
Summary: Time is weird.
Disclaimer: None of this ever happened in any universe, and I wholeheartedly apologise.
Warnings: Contains little to no sense.

( What do you think time is, really? )

I think Russell Brand just tried to flirt with Jenni Murray on Woman's Hour. It... actually broke my brain slightly, so I'm going into town to try and buy some curtain hooks.

Seriously, brain = broken. It's full of little disconnected bits. You can shake it up like an Etch-a-Sketch.

*wanders off*

Title: Counting
Fandom: Sort of Goth Detectives RPS
Pairing: Noel Fielding/Russell Brand
Disclaimer: None of this happened, I made it up for a cheap laugh, please don't hurt me.
Summary: It was just a threesome without one of the ones, that was all.
Notes: Written for the 'Julian's fridge' challenge at goth_detectives.

( Counting )

Title: The Terrifyingly Mysterious Case of the Mysterious Phone Call of Mystery
Fandom: Goth Detectives
Pairing: Bob Skeleton (aka Noel Fielding)/Russell 'Can't Be Arsed to Think of a Goth Name' Brand
Raiting: PG, but only because of the HORROR of it all.
Warnings: Terrifyingly silly.
Summary: What is really going on at the end of Hell Lane? Who made that mysterious phone call of mystery? Why are Russell's trousers so tight? All good questions.
Disclaimer: This is quite obviously a complete load of rubbish. I own nothing.
Notes: Written for the 'Detectives' challenge on booshslashhaven, cheers to kitchencynic for the beta. This will mean nothing to anyone who didn't see the Big Fat Gay Quiz of the Year when it was on over Christmas. Also, some bats may have been recycled during the making of this fic.

( Click here for darkness, investigations and so on )