Not My Fandom comment ficathon
Oct. 15th, 2010 10:03 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
beer_good_foamyThis is pretty awesome.
Welcome to the first ever Not My Fandom Fest! The fest will be running from tonight, Thursday, October 14 through the weekend until sometime on Monday, October 18! Pimp to your friends! Feel free to use the banner! Tell everyone you know! We're going to have fun, guys!
We all joke about "fannish osmosis," and this comment ficathon is going to put that to the test. The object is to write a ficlet for a fandom you're not a part of based solely on what you've learned from your friends list and fandom at large. Silly, serious, the tone and approach are up to you. The only rule is that you can't write for a fandom that you have actually seen the source material for. (So, if, for example, you've seen all of Criminal Minds but just haven't participated in the fandom, that doesn't count.)
Some almost completely uninformed attempts of doubtful quality under the cuts:
The ones they haven't made good movies of yet
"Excellent," said Doctor Doom, putting his fingers together Monty Burns-style. "All the heroes are too busy dealing with mundane day-to-day stuff and debating politics to notice my doomsday device. Just one more detail and my evil plan will be finished. Deadpool, hand me that... Deadpool?"
But Deadpool didn't hear him; he was over in a corner, breaking down the fourth wall with an unusually witty-looking sledgehammer. Just because. As the wall fell on Doctor Doom's namesakeday device, all the villains ran from the crumbling building and stood there glaring at each other.
Then Squirrel Girl beat everyone up.
Teenage Angst
"That's it, young man! Go to your room! You're grounded for a week!" Martha Kent yelled at her 30-year-old teenage son.
Clark sat forlorn in his room, angsting about his purpose. He briefly contemplated climbing out the window, but his room was on the second floor and he thought he might hurt himself.
Bruce is a lucky bastard, he thought.
To Spite the Devil
"You know," said Sam as they salted the bones of yet another demon, "this is really getting tiring. We've been doing this since we were kids now, and they just keep coming. I mean, at least one of us has been to hell at least once, for fuck's sake."
"Yeah," said Dean as he spilled some more salt. "It's like God hates us or something. I don't get it."
Sam sighed and poured out the rest of the salt. "Oh well. Nothing we can do about it, I guess."
On their way back to the parking lot where they'd left the Impala, they got into a fight with many homoerotic undertones. Castiel was waiting at the car.
"Hey guys," he said suggestively, leering over one or possibly both of them. "All taken care of?"
Dean or Sam nodded. "Yeah."
"Did you throw a pinch of salt over your left shoulder when you were done?"
Sam or Dean frowned. "No, why? Our Dad never said anything about that."
"Just curious."
"Maybe things will be better next week," Dean or Sam sighed.
Possibly, Castiel folded his wings, and then they all squeezed into the front seat of the Impala together. As they pulled out with the stereo blasting Iron Maiden's "The Rime Of The Ancient Mariner", they drove under a ladder, crossed the path of several black cats, and broke the rearview mirrors of 13 other cars.
Welcome to the first ever Not My Fandom Fest! The fest will be running from tonight, Thursday, October 14 through the weekend until sometime on Monday, October 18! Pimp to your friends! Feel free to use the banner! Tell everyone you know! We're going to have fun, guys!
We all joke about "fannish osmosis," and this comment ficathon is going to put that to the test. The object is to write a ficlet for a fandom you're not a part of based solely on what you've learned from your friends list and fandom at large. Silly, serious, the tone and approach are up to you. The only rule is that you can't write for a fandom that you have actually seen the source material for. (So, if, for example, you've seen all of Criminal Minds but just haven't participated in the fandom, that doesn't count.)
Some almost completely uninformed attempts of doubtful quality under the cuts:
The ones they haven't made good movies of yet
"Excellent," said Doctor Doom, putting his fingers together Monty Burns-style. "All the heroes are too busy dealing with mundane day-to-day stuff and debating politics to notice my doomsday device. Just one more detail and my evil plan will be finished. Deadpool, hand me that... Deadpool?"
But Deadpool didn't hear him; he was over in a corner, breaking down the fourth wall with an unusually witty-looking sledgehammer. Just because. As the wall fell on Doctor Doom's namesakeday device, all the villains ran from the crumbling building and stood there glaring at each other.
Then Squirrel Girl beat everyone up.
Teenage Angst
"That's it, young man! Go to your room! You're grounded for a week!" Martha Kent yelled at her 30-year-old teenage son.
Clark sat forlorn in his room, angsting about his purpose. He briefly contemplated climbing out the window, but his room was on the second floor and he thought he might hurt himself.
Bruce is a lucky bastard, he thought.
To Spite the Devil
"You know," said Sam as they salted the bones of yet another demon, "this is really getting tiring. We've been doing this since we were kids now, and they just keep coming. I mean, at least one of us has been to hell at least once, for fuck's sake."
"Yeah," said Dean as he spilled some more salt. "It's like God hates us or something. I don't get it."
Sam sighed and poured out the rest of the salt. "Oh well. Nothing we can do about it, I guess."
On their way back to the parking lot where they'd left the Impala, they got into a fight with many homoerotic undertones. Castiel was waiting at the car.
"Hey guys," he said suggestively, leering over one or possibly both of them. "All taken care of?"
Dean or Sam nodded. "Yeah."
"Did you throw a pinch of salt over your left shoulder when you were done?"
Sam or Dean frowned. "No, why? Our Dad never said anything about that."
"Just curious."
"Maybe things will be better next week," Dean or Sam sighed.
Possibly, Castiel folded his wings, and then they all squeezed into the front seat of the Impala together. As they pulled out with the stereo blasting Iron Maiden's "The Rime Of The Ancient Mariner", they drove under a ladder, crossed the path of several black cats, and broke the rearview mirrors of 13 other cars.
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Date: 2010-10-15 08:15 pm (UTC)Wonderful! :D
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