Based off of a conversation happening online yesterday, I shared a photo of what I direct message to people when they decide to have Facebook fights with me about my opinions. Which, shockingly, I get into pretty often.
Realizing that it might have more of a purpose than just to be a snide remark to the douches that feel the need to annoy me online, I’ve spruced up the photo and here it is:
Use it in good health and when you find it necessary.
What a great way to start August – with a fan fiction of failure. This one truly speaks to the dickish nature of a smug Fred Jones. For your listening pleasure:
One is the Deadliest Number
VO by Joanna
story by You Life
art by the Law Offices of Van Noss²
Daphne’s hand tightened around the handle, the blade hidden behind her back.
“Jinkies!…you feeling alright?” Velma’s hesitant voice echoed down the hall.
She cleared her throat trying to sound calm, “Totally Velm. Just…just looking for that over-sized magnifying glass.”
“Oh okay. Shaggy and I are going to take Scoobs out for a walk. That might make you feel better.”
Damn that Fred! Everyone knew.
“Thanks, maybe later.”
She waited till Velma walked away. That cravat wearing mother fucker must have told everyone about them before she got up.
“I like you Daphne. It’s just that I need someone smarter than you.”
No one uses Daphne Danger and gets away with it. Who needs brains when you have a blade?
The poster of Tesla outside Fred’s door infuriated Daphne. She knocked her fist against the scientist’s judge-y face. Fred opened the door and Daphne greeted him with the business end of her knife.
Meaning she killed him.
Joanna is a vocal goddess
Van Noss is a grumpy mantalope
Office vending machines are the prime area to communicate with the future robot leaders of this world (see: this, this, this, this – honestly this blog is basically pizza, cats, and my fear of the robot apocalypse coupled with leaving notes on vending machines).
And on that note, here is a hilarious update on that front:
That’s what happens when you screw with the robots, duder.
IT’S A GRAND OL’ FLAG IT’S A BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH
It’s July, which means that, as Americans, we get to celebrate our Independence. And what could be more celebratory, American, and independent than a fan fiction of failure?
This magical and patriotic fan fiction comes from one of the brilliant minds at Emerson, the art from a creative innovator in London, and voice over work from the soulful vocals of a popular VO professional. Enjoy!
George Washington was sitting in his office scanning his bookshelf when his good friend, John Adams, came in to chat.
“Hello George,” John said, “how’s the government today?”
“It’s good,” replied George, “but my day is better now that you’re here.”
John smiled and sat down. “I’m so glad to be home from my trip. My days are so much longer without you here.”
George smiled and walked up to John. He cradled the curls of his wig and placed his hand on John’s cheek. “Oh John,” he said, “I would chop down a thousand cherry trees for you.”
John’s whole face lit up like a fireworks display on July 4 (George’s favorite holiday). “George,” he said, “how about we make sweet love by candlelight and afterwards I’ll read you the Declaration of Independence?”
George blushed and nodded happily. “There’s no one I’d rather celebrate freedom, liberation, and fireworks with.”
Kelsey Perkins is a student at Emerson College currently pursing her B.A. in Writing, Literature, and Publishing. She swears she is not a bad writer.
Dorothy Damage is a London-based feminist zinester rediscovering her love of drawing fanart and paper dolls. When not doodling, she can be found baking cakes, traversing space and time, and astounding those around her with feats of nerditude. Visit her poor neglected blog and follow her art portfolio, and she might send you a cookie! But probably not.
Chris R is a voice over artist that has been drinking coffee since the age of 2. He has his own studio where he narrates audiobooks and does TV and radio spots as well. And…..Did he mention he loves coffee?
Such an incredible fan fiction I can scarcely believe exists. Thanks to Caroline for contributing, Joanna for voicing, and Liz for art work so amazing that it even includes the script. Bravo, ladies! Sisters are doin’ it for themselves!
Caroline has been keeping herself very busy as an actress, improviser, teacher and Karaoke enthusiast for the past 4 years. When she isn’t working you can find her performing with Philly’s longest running comedy show : Comedy Sportz, or the musical stylings of Interrobang. Visit her website www.carolinerhoads.com for more info.
Joanna has the voice of a goddess and you’ll hear her dulcet tones throughout the wonderful city of Philadelphia. She and her husband were once on a talk show and that’s pretty cool.
Elizabeth Bergland is a Philadelphia artist, Star Trek enthusiast, Reed graduate, and breaker of hearts. She makes sock monsters along with art work, and when her Etsy pages are updated you can find more information about commissions there – You Life will keep you in the loop.
It’s a hostile world when the vending machines stop upholding their side of the bargain. I heard somewhere from something online that crazy scientists are creating smarter robots. But I’d venture to say that they’re already smart enough and that this is a rise of the proletariat sort of situation that we have on our hands.
Beware of the vending machine
I’d consider raising the vending machine’s salary and giving it benefits before it responds with greater prejudice.
Here is the newest installment of Fan Fiction of Failure. This one is written by your very own You Life. The ridiculously talented This Guy, Jim C, once again lends his talents for the illustrations. And, again, the amazing Anthony donates his lovely vocal cords for the voice over.
Harry pushed up the sleeves of his tattered cloak. The previous several years having been a dream, Harry was back to the grind – trying to destroy Voldemort, but more importantly trying to hide the true emotions slowing building inside him like a camp fire.
“Harry?” Snape emerged like a wounded panther. Sleek and dangerous. Harry’s heart quickened at the approaching visage, wise and grave. His voice was barely a squeak when it came out, a warmth was spreading throughout his belly, “Yes, Professor Snape?”
The professor closed the space between them. With trembling fingers he reached out and brushed a lock of Harry’s dark hair out his eyes. Harry quaked with the tension, as Snape’s body, only a breath away grazed his own. “You fought magnificently today,” he whispered lustily.
Harry tilted his chin up…