Silly Shipping- "Fanfic" competition

So, as some of you might have seen, I made a Liberty Force shipping table.

Why? Boredom.

This spawned an idea. A horrible, twisted idea.

So, without further ado, I propose a little friendly competition.

It's simple. I roll on the table for each person interested and send them their pairings. Then they have to write a fanfic about that pairing.

Why? Boredom. And maybe my slight disregard for my sanity and mental sanctity.

This will, of course, result in some very, very silly pairings (I believe Ravenhawk got paired up with -everyone- when I was rolling last night). That's the point. Les Yay, Ho Yay, Foe Yay, and sweet security drone love are possibilities. Cue massive character derailment, cheeseyness, and hopefully bad writing (because if you can write well about this, I'd be a bit worried/You got a too easy pairing).

There will be prizes for the best fan fic, the "best" fan fic, and...One other one.

Admissions should be posted on this thread, for later reference.

Anybody interested, reply so I we can get started! I think this has potential to be very amusing!

EDIT: Brightwel handily reminded me I need to state the restrictions. Entry's should be SFW- nothing explicit, but come on, we're all mature...*looks at Lani*...Most of us are mature people here. Only needs to be 500 words or so. More the better, of course.

Deadline- I'd prefer a lax one of "when everyone is done", but for now I'll say December 1st. This is negotiatible, of course.

EDIT 2: Anybody who wants to write a second entry, or more after (for whatever disturbed reason) is free to do so. Send me a PM (In game preferably) for another pairing.

I don't know WHY you would want to write a second one. Maybe just to sate your sick desire to ship teamates together. You dirty, dirty shipper.

"Massive Character Derailment" Given some of the characters we have to work with, that's a given, isn't it?

In a place seperate from our own universe, a lonesome demon dreams of a forbidden love

The demon gazed longingly into the clear surface of the orb.

Such a forbidden love, it was. If his master were to find out, he would certainly be dead. Or worse.

But he didn't care, because he had felt the stirrings of his non-existent-yet-somehow-fiery-heart and they would not be quelled.

Her features, so perfect. Her walk, so perfect. The way she stabbed an unsuspecting meta-human through the throat, so perfect. Perfect and oh .. so deadly.

It was almost too much for him to bare. He had lived so long without knowing TRUE pleasure.

It was not in the finery of a sword, or the engravings of a particularly deadly suit of armour, but in the hands of a woman who could not only please, but destroy. To have a being so beautiful, but so deadly.

He'd been longing for the perfect blade.

And maybe, just maybe ..

He found it.

He turned solemnly away from the orb and brooded.

Oh the things he could show her. The brilliance of the master's castle, the fine arms he could weave out of thin air. Fantastic, amazing things. All deadly. All beautiful.

He would create her a blade. A blade which was deadlier than all; like her. A blade that was more beautiful than her; like her. And maybe, if he was lucky, she would give him a silent nod of approval.

He had to do this. There was no choice in the matter. He would risk his very existence, if only to get her approval for one, joyous, fleeting moment before being uncreated. Or beheaded. Preferably the latter. By the woman of his wildest fantasies.

He brought to the forge and anvil only the best metals. With a rhythmic beat, following the pounding of his demonic not-heart, he forged a weapon so fine, so sleek, so sharp and yet .. so entrancing ..

He held it aloft, admiring its beauty. He could see it now .. her face reflected in the sword .. so close he could almost .. touch her ..

And then she was there! In front of him! He would have dropped dead had he possessed a heart, instead he simply froze.

With elegance only royalty can even dream of, she sauntered up to his colossal form. He yearned to reach out, to feel the soft touch of her skin against his metal glove.

He surrendered to his impulses, dropped to his knees and presented the weapon. The symbol of his love.

She picked it up and casually inspected it, like one would inspect a fine piece of jewelry.

He would sweat profusely if he had the ability, but the nervousness nearly had him onto the floor.

But then .. she snapped it! His symbol had been rejected! He was not worthy of her affections!

If only it were her ..

He took another glance, to find his master stood were she once stood, with a broken sword in his hands.

The master tossed the broken symbol to the ground.

"Stop daydreaming and get back to work."

And with that, the master was gone.

He looked down at the broken symbol ...

...

There love would never be ..

..

Solemnly, he picked the sword up and gazed longingly at it ..

.. It would've been perfect .. she was ..

Perfect ..

Dennis, slayer of giants, sworn foe of the mighty Thor, champion of a thousand battles and the strongest Jötunn hero who walks Midgard, was not about to lose to a mere human stripling. It mattered not if she used pistols, or the magics of her clan, or the strength of an infernal demon. Those weapons were nothing that the gruff Jötunn's training and power could not overcome. But perhaps, he acknowledged with grim resignation, it would be Incendria's tempestuous beauty that would fell him.

Their training session had begun with the usual frustrations. The puny humans always held back, and Carol was no exception. His mighty enchanted shield had deflected even her most powerful and precise shots, and although she flew swiftly to avoid his own blows, Dennis had settled down to wear her to exhaustion. Had he not the stamina of mountains? This candle might burn fierce, flitting about him like some spirit of bright fire, but briefly. Her small frame would not last.

"Don't talk much, do you?" came her mocking cry. "If you're just going to stand there like an idiot, you might as well say something."

The Jötunn's blood boiled, but his answer was only a grunt and a vicious swing of his mace that caught Incendria's crimson trenchcoat as it flew past him again, as if carried on a hot desert wind. So ensnared and entangled, she was his now to do with as he pleased. But his growl of triumph turned into a roar of rage as he saw that while her coat was his, wrapped around the head of his weapon, she was no longer in it.

"Is it getting hot in here?" she called and danced away, firing shots contemptuously. Too late, he realised that it was getting hot, and the rivulets of sweat that cascaded down the corded muscle of his naked back were hissing as they hit the ground. The very ground was ablaze!

"Just say a single word, Dennis," Carol crowed in sly smugness. "Just say 'please', to beg me to stop."

These taunts he could not abide. His charge was reckless, he would realise later, but Dennis could not help it. With powerful bounding strides that ate the distance between them and a smile of grim satisfaction at the fear and surprise in his opponent's eyes, he swung his great mace and the tiny pistols were knocked aside like the insolent toys they were. With momentum carrying his shield forward with the power and purpose of glaciers, he would press her to the wall and show her how a real warrior fights.

With a boom that shook the hall, cracks spidered through the wall and bulkheads buckled and overhead beams groaned in strain. Dennis mused that even if the Aquabase's formidable shields failed to hold back the weight of the oceans above, it would still not be enough to extinguish the flame of their passions in this fight.

For one shining moment, it was glorious.

But she was not there. Dennis' great shield had struck the wall without obstacle. And though his gaze and his mace flicked all around in alarm, a warm breathy voice tickled his ear from over his shoulder, "Too slow, sweetness."

And kissed him on the cheek.

Dennis would swear that the heat of those lips had scarred him more deeply than any wound by any weapon wielded by man or god. And it felt good.

A wrecked apartment in a classy building overlooking Silver Lake: A smashed window was letting in the sounds of Steel Canyon and the occupant of a bed, or more precisely a mattress torn in half, was finding birdsong and car horns a problem,

"Ngggnngngh!" His head reeled and he clutched his bare chest. He felt scratches. They felt like trenches.

Raising a bruised hand up to the light that streamed in from the broken window, the prone and virtually disrobed Tomb Guard tried to comprehend what had happened the night before. When it finally clicked that he was naked and in a strange bed, he instinctively reached for the covers and found...

It was thick, black, hard and long. Konrad gasped as the thing he placed his hand on began to writhe and pulsate. The wight rolled from the mattress, thudding onto an unyielding wooden floor. A muffled voice sounded from another room in the apartment. And another foreign sound: Was it... sizzling?

Then Konrad's sense of smell kicked in. Bacon. Definitely bacon. And maple syrup. And coffee. What was going on?

Suddenly the door, half off its hinges, swung open and Konrad could not believe his eyes: Seeming to fill the whole room was a man of average height wearing a blue apron, his face concealed entirely by a tight, blue mask. He was carrying a tray full of breakfast and two hot, steaming mugs of coffee.

"I see you found the toy we played with last night. How did you sleep?"

Konrad scratched his head in mock bewilderment, then quickly rolled to his feet... only to fall over as his ankles were tied together with the same 'toy' he had touched moments earlier.

The man known as Pseudonym threw down the tray of Breakfast, bits of syrup and pancake splashing on his shiny PVC apron.

"I see you've still got the fire in you, wight!", he snarled, "Ready for round two? Let me hose you down!"

***

Bad person Echo is bad person

Sunrise appeared from above the clouded sky of Paragon City, whatever light could reach a sleeping giant eventually woke him, Dennis arose with a mighty yawn in the pitiful human sized bed and wondered "Why am I here?" That question could be answered by the unnatural amount of mead bottles laying about the room.

Dennis tried as best he could to crawl over to the door, his legs aching for unknown reasons and found a note taped to the room's door

"Wakey wakey sleeping Jötunn, The day is up, and we've had our fun, come downstairs for breakfast with me, your satisfied expression will be fun to see"

Dennis grunted at the riddle and did his best to leave the room and head downstairs, walking as if through knee high snow and found himself greeted by a receptionist

"Hello there Dennis, your missus is in the lounge, breakfast will be ready shortly"

Dennis looked clueless and proceeded to the lounge only to see a pink haired devil laying seductively across the couch, Gloranna and all her grace made the hero giant gulp.

"There you are, bright as day! I was wondering how long you'd lay"

Dennis looked at her with a troubled expression "How many bottles did I have last night?"

Gloranna giggled and with a proud smirk replied "34 bottles, quite a feat, I payed for most, it was my treat. I trust you slept well? I'd imagine so, it was a fun night, you can't say no."

Dennis looked furious but remained calm "You're telling me we that we both got drunk and enjoyed a night? fine, just don't expect me to stay around here much longer." Gloranna gasped and jumped at his leg holding onto it as he strides out the door "Don't leave yet, we haven't ate, stay here with me, please just wait!"

Dennis had no time to get rid of Gloranna, he had to escape quickly with or without his dignity, and with that thought in mind he sprang up with Gloranna hanging on "If you wont stay, I'll come too, it'll be fun together, just me and you!" Dennis considered the thought for a moment and simply nodded to her, her expression lighting up with a bright grin and a devilish look in her eye.

and into the sunset they went as start of a new and very perculiar relationship, will it last? who knows, only time could tell for the tale of the Jötunn and the Illusionist. The End(?)

Wow, I set too late a deadline for this. Forgot what I was going to write.

So, the rewardless prizes. Unfortunately the "Best" Prize is unavailable because you assholes didn't write anything horrible! So instead, the prizes are: Best Fanfic, Closest to Canon, and The "CANNOT UNSEE" Prize.

The "CANNOT UNSEE" Prize:
Okay, we all know who "won" this.

Congratulations, Prin. I will never look at Pseudonym or Tomb Guard the same way again.

I believe Transmission's comment was: "HOW IS THAT EVEN POSSIBLE?"

The "Closest to Canon" Prize:
This was rather more difficult to decide. I had to take into account who got what pairing's: These didn't factor into it. Just how close the characters were to their actual, IC selves.

So with that in mind, I'm going to have to go with...Tyrannical's Dennis x Glorianna fic.

(Seriously, good job on all of those rhymes. Even the tempo sounds like Glorrianna's.)

The Best Fanfic Prize:
And this was the absolute hardest to decide. In the end, a lot of this came down to writing technique, and a bit of believability and plot.

In the end, I had to decide between the two remaining fics (Damnit, I'd feel better if more of you had entered. Hint hint, Thund/Trans/Lani).

So 1st place will go tooo... Oreso. Just.


So, congratulations winners/mental scarrers. You win...nothing. Because I have no influence to distribute!

Next time I do something like this I'll set a shorter deadline. I have some ideas for another random competition...Stay tuned.

Wheee!