Check it out... I'm TOTALLY hot!

[in_the_blue]

Are you ready, kids?

I think it's time. It's a new year, and that means it's time for a NEW WRITING CHALLENGE. So roll up your sleeves, crack your knuckles, and let's begin!

Your mission, should you decide to accept it, is to let one of your roleplay characters write THE WORST FANFICTION EVER. It can be fanfiction about their canon or about another canon, but it has to be written by one of your roleplay characters and has to be submitted by that RP journal. Got it? So, for instance, Jet Black could submit the Ed/Ein fantasy he's always wanted to write, or Hermione Granger could pen that little ditty about Neville and Mimbulus Mimbletonia in the Astronomy Tower, or... Jack Sparrow could weave a tale of intrigue about Axel and Demyx. Whatever, so long as it's submitted by a roleplay character and it's bad fanfiction: you get the picture.

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Rules:

Fandom: any fandom your RP character wants to write, either his/her own or a different one.

Word count: 1000 or less

Main theme: BAD FANFICTION.

Ratings: No restrictions, but for the love of God, don't violate the LJ TOS.

Duration: Challenge opens now (January 4) and closes at 11:59 p.m. in whatever time zone you inhabit on Friday, January 26. We give you lots and lots of time for this one.

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Come one, come all, and pimp this one far and wide. Let's get a lot of crack fanfiction for this challenge. I'd love to see the worst your characters can do... and honestly, so would they.

Rule clarification: if you don't have a roleplay journal for the character begging to write the WORST FANFIC EVER, submit it anonymously and let everyone know which character's writing it. You'll have to remember to check back for comments, but that ought to work. Or heck, write it with your own journal and just make it very clear which character authored your epic piece of nonsense.

Comments

[hooper-x.livejournal.com]

Heh. I can't do this one, because canon beat me to it. (http://joeguide.qktheatre.com/summaries/once_upon_a_joe/part2.shtml)

-hx

[skygiants]

. . . worst fanfiction ever = BEST WRITING CHALLENGE EVER.

I can't get to this until Monday or Tuesday, but I will SO be getting to it then. *giggling*

[kit-the-brave.livejournal.com]

Oh, man, I can't imagine doing this with any of my RP characters, but I can't wait to see what other people come up with. You think of the best challenges, honestly!

[kali921.livejournal.com]

How can my characters write the WORST FANFIC EVER when canon has already done that for them?

[erised1810.livejournal.com]

but but idon't have m yow nlivejournal
Susan

[slaversbane.livejournal.com]

IN LIKE FLYNN! Muhahahahaha...

[h311ybean]

Sorry, Hex, I must abide by the LJ TOS... :-p

This sounds interesting! I'll see if I any of us can come up with something.

It might be a hair long, but here goes..

[beth-newburg.livejournal.com]

I found these when I was cleaning up and thought you might get a chuckle out of them. Love, Mom

Beth was confused until she ripped the paper off the flat package. Then she chuckled. “Where on earth did you find these, Mom?” she asked aloud, fingering the edges of the black and white marbled composition notebooks. Walking into the living room, she dropped onto the couch and stared at the first notebook.

Beth’s Happy Endings. That’s what she’d titled the first notebook, oh so long ago. She smiled to herself as she remembered how it had all started. She’d been reading Little Women, and naturally, her favorite character had been Beth. When her namesake had died, she’d been very upset. When Amy married Laurie, that had been the last straw. She had thrown the book down in disgust, determined to never finish it. Her mom had suggested that she try writing her own ending, and given her a brand new notebook. Beth had loved the idea.

Present day Beth opened the cover and smoothed the first page flat. The handwriting was squiggly, nothing like the neat script she used today, but if you looked for similarities, there were some. The way she hooked her g’s, or the curve of her B’s. Beth sighed and began to read.

Beth didn’t die of fever. Instead, she got better and more beautiful. Amy (the little snot) drownded when she went to Europe instead of Jo. They all pretended to be sad, but weren’t. Except Beth. She was so good and kind that she couldn’t help and be sad. When Laurie finally came back from Europe, he saw how good and kind Beth was and fell in love. Laurie and Beth got married and lived happily ever after. They had three children. Beth insisted on naming her girl Amy, after her sister, but Beth’s Amy was much better behaved and everyone liked her. The two sons were named Benjamin and Jacob. The End.

Beth laughed. She remembered how much thought she’d put into the names, because she wanted them to seem realistic. Smiling softly, she glanced toward the room where her own Benjamin lay sleeping. It hardly seemed real, but her happy ending had come true.

As if on cue, a cry sounded over the monitor. Checking her watch, Beth rushed into the nursery, wondering what was wrong. Little Ben had been asleep for an hour already, but he was usually good for a two hour nap this time of day. Robert Edward Lee Dawson, however, took after his father—a light sleeper who never wanted to miss anything. If she wasn’t careful, she’d have two very cranky eight-month-olds on her hands.

Winding her way into the nursery, she saw that Bobby’s pacifier had slipped out. The little rascal wasn’t happy unless there was something in his mouth at all times. Just like his daddy, she thought fondly. She gently replaced the pacifier, and rubbed Bobby’s stomach gently until he dropped back off.

She tiptoed out and closed the door gently. She loved her boys, but as a harried mother of twins, she needed what time she could get to herself.

After pouring herself a drink, she began leafing through the notebooks again. Most of the stories were about books or movies she barely remembered. Only very occasionally had she tried writing original fiction, and she’d never finished anything.

Not wanting to waste too much time, she flipped quickly past most of the stories. Finally, she came to one story—the first one in the last notebook—that made her laugh out loud.

She’d first seen Star Wars when she was thirteen and a half. Always the contrary one, Beth thought it was rotten that Luke did all the hard work and got suckered out of the girl by Han. It was only later that she’d decided that Han and Leia belonged together.

[not_that_spike]

So... yeah. Once there was this specific challenge.

So... yeah. I did it. Here goes:

Spike woke up and wondered who the hell the chick was lying next to him with nothing but leopard print handcuffs on her wrist and red socks on her feet. The last thing he remembered, after all, was ordering that drink: he knew it had been a mistake the moment he tasted it. Something funny about it. He ran a finger through his hair -- what the fuck? why was it so nice and smooth? -- and, with a grimace at the pounding in his head, settled back down on the pillow.

The girl next to him turned as much as she could and gave him a sleepy toothy I used to be wearing lipstick but you kissed it all off grin. "I like the way you clapped me in these irons." Her handcuffed wrist rattled against the bed frame.

"Yeah? Well, I don't remember doing it, so don't get all excited over it or anything." Shit. His head was fucking pounding.

She ran a red-nailed finger down his chest. "Well, I never thought I'd ask for the clap, but you did it so nicely. In fact, it was so nice I was going to ask for it again."

Oh, my aching fucking head. He sat up and moved to the edge of the bed, head in hands. Last time I drink one of those damn mochachillos.

The Princess Bride as it should have been.

[wheneveriwant.livejournal.com]

*I always wondered what the deal was with this writing stuff. Shouldn’t be too hard you just take a character and put it with another character and some idea and bang you have a work of fiction for the ages. After careful consideration and hours of research I have discovered the ultimate combination of characters for fan fiction: a love story between Inigo Montoya , and Princess Buttercup from the Princess Bride. So here it is. Brandon said it needed fleshing out. So I shot his ass.

Enjoy!
-Harry MacDowell*


Our story begins upon the little boat carrying Vizzini, Fezzik and Princess Buttercup. Inigo Montoya is sailing it with the skill of a passionate lover. Careful glances over his shoulder at the thickening shadows filling in the moonlight faintly bathing the long sobering night reveal the silhouette of Princess Buttercup at the stern of the ship. She looks helpless, beautiful, enticing, demure and sweet. Fezzik the Giant is snoring loudly beside her creating a bass grinding to the staccato“Invconceivable!” muttered in Vizzini’s fitful dreams. Inigo is briefly inspired to dance. But he does not. For the sadness of the Princess unstrings the lute of sleeping comrades.

Inigo can sense that deep sorrow swimming in her pale water blue eyes. Normally he would ignore her pain in favor of his own, but not tonight. Toonight, her sorrow touches him in a place not touched for a long time; his broken bleeding misery laden heart. Since the loss of his father to the six fingered man’s callous stabbing, Inigo’s heart has been as hard and shriveled as a month old parsnip. Unable to love he found peace in the countless duels he fought and the brandy that unleashed his great rage. Something in the far away stare of this lady, a stare that dares to reach the very stars themselves, opens up the door of his heart. Like a key. A starry key glittering in the love lost reflected in her eyes. This key not only opens his heart, but his mouth as well. The pain inside is now slightly ajar heart makes his voice hoarse and sultry, like the purr of a tigress in heat when he speaks.

“Lady. You have the look of a woman who suffers,” he ties off the rudder and walks slowly, deliberately to her, “I, too know what it means to suffer.”
His eyes gaze at the golden curl of her hair, and the finely crafted embroidery on her breasts. Her bosoms are far larger than he had expected them to be.

“Die pig, I have naught to say to you.”

She has no intention of accepting his obvious overtones of love. She will remain steadfast in the face of his undeniable passion. She grits her teeth against the lure of Inigo’s raw sexual heat.

Inigo sees the meaning behind her words with the pain in his heart. Her harshness masks a cry for help and a longing for his touch. She is really saying, “Help me. Love me.”

“Lady. I can feel the pain in your words. I know that the words that were thrown like daggers at my eyes, are truly cries for help and love.” He steps closer and gently touches her satin smooth skin, locking his dark and feral gaze with hers.

Buttercup is amazed and delighted at the insight this Spaniard possesses and the gentle caress of his sultry speech is too much for her fragile façade.

“You are right, dear Inigo. I love you. Take me away from all this pain.” The tears rolling down her cheeks tell the truth. Those little salty droplets tell the truth of her unrelenting need for his love.

Seizing the moment, Inigo deftly slices her bonds with the sword that killed his father, gathers her up into his arms and kisses her passionately. The power of their kiss melts away the shadows of the long dark night of their twin pain. Troubles, pointless, die in each other’s embrace. The burning heat of their lovemaking sets the very ship ablaze. Burning and fucking they sink into the sea having found true love.

*I love a good romance. Short sweet and to the point. Thanks for reading, now tell me you love it. - Harry MacDowell*

Jinx Johnson Meets the Dark Lord Pt. 1

[hex316.livejournal.com]

Jinx Johnson Meets the Dark Lord
By Hex Holmstrom
Fandom: Harry Potter
Word count: Exactly 1000 (for a reason)
Rating: PG-13

The battle was over. Hogwarts had lost.

Voldemort stood in the middle of the Great Hall, laughing maniacally and taunting the defeated defenders of Hogwarts with the body of Harry Potter, which lay pale and dead at his feet.

"Your only hope is dead!" he told his vanquished foes, his evil red eyes flashing in triumph. "The Dark side has won! Now bow down to the might of Lord Voldemort!" He turned to his Death Eaters, who were standing behind him like a goth chorus line, and pointed an ominous finger at Mavis Moonwalker, who was standing frozen, like an innocent fawn caught in the headlights, at the edge of the crowd.

"Get the girl," he hissed.

"You got it, boss," answered Walden MacNair, the biggest Death Eater in the lineup. He grabbed Mavis before she could flee and dragged her towards Voldemort. Mavis struggled bravely, but the Death Eater was too strong for her. He hauled her before Voldemort with ease and held her still as the Dark Lord conjured an ugly Rambo-type knife out of thin air and brought it slowly, slowly, down towards Mavis' pale, slender, vulnerably exposed neck.

"Not so fast!" a strong voice roared, and everyone gasped in awe as Jinx Johnson appeared out of nowhere, wearing nothing but ripped camouflage pants and big, bad army boots. Moving with catlike speed, Jinx flung Mavis away from Voldemort and the Death Eaters, and proceeded to stomp a mud hole in MacNair. Even though MacNair was bigger and stronger, that was nothing compared to Jinx’s speed, fighting heart and desire to win. He went down like a pole-axed ox after the first flying kick and tried to get back on his feet, but Jinx was all over him like white on rice in a glass of milk in a paper plate in a snowstorm.

Voldemort had been watching the fight, too, and recognized a worthy opponent in Jinx's masterful victory over the hulking Death Eater. "Who are you?" he asked.

"I'm Jinx Johnson," Jinx replied coolly, not at all intimidated by the presence of the Dark Lord, "and you're going down."

“I think not!” Voldemort retorted, bursting into laughter. He was so caught up in laughing at Jinx, ridiculing his brave words, that he didn't notice the exclamations of horror and surprise coming from the crowd, or that his laughter was growing higher and tinnier.

"Master!" one of his Death Eaters cried. The sound of the man's voice, and the oof he let out when he ran into a Shield Charm that suddenly appeared between him and Voldemort, broke into the Dark Lord's reverie. He stopped laughing and looked at his minions, and then he realized that they were very, very tall...and he was very, very small.

[kit-the-brave.livejournal.com]

I think I have reached the level of laughing that is an ab workout in itself. Jinx.... Inigo and Buttercup... the "better ending" Star Wars!