879: Kirby One ShotsPosted: November 5, 2014
Greetings patrons. I’m still quite sick today, but thanks to a mixture of hardcore cold medication and soup, I’m well enough to handle a couple of short one shots today.
*Rhythmic thudding comes from beyond the chamber door*
I may also have locked Eliza and Swenia out in the hallway. Up first is a crossover of Kirby and the movie Frozen.
Frozen is quickly becoming the new Twilight of the crossover world. At last check there were nearly four thousand frozen crossover fics, and more are getting written every day. With that many out there, you’re bound to have a buffet of awful. But maybe we should let this fic speak for itself. First, as always, let’s check out the summary.
This is a celebratory Fanfiction that has mini-stories involved. Enjoy.
I… wha? That isn’t a summary! It doesn’t even make any damn sense!
Maybe the author’s note will help shed some light on what we’re supposed to be looking at here.
This is just kind of an experiment thing, so PLEASE tell me if this is against the rules.
Okay… yeah, that’s not helping. What else you got, author?
Also could someone answer this for me: Can you do mini-stories on your profile?
If only there was some kind of place on fanfiction.net where you could ask these kinds of questions! Nope, best to use an author’s note.
Besides that, enjoy this first chapter of Holidays for Us.
And that’s it. That’s the author’s note. I still have no idea what we’re in store for. Maybe the premise is one of those things that will be obvious once we start reading.
One day in Dreamland, two girls and a cat showed up from nowhere.
OH COME ON! At least give us a little lead-in before you have the SDQF barf up two girls and a cat.
The Cappies were scared, and started panicking like headless chickens.
Technically a headless chicken isn’t panicking, it’s just an autonomic reflex cascade that happens after death. The simile you wanted was “running around like a chicken with its head cut off.” There’s a not subtle difference between that idiom and what you typed, author.
“What are we going to do?” shouted Mayor Blustergas.
“I don’t know!” Chief Bookem replied.
I don’t know about all of you, but three people poofing in out of nowhere seems a perfect time to overreact. They have all their bases covered, really.
“We’re gonna die!” Samo screamed.
Sweet crap, author! Your fic is only 500 words long. Can you knock it off with the name drops?
Since it seems like the author is dead-set on name dropping every damn resident in Cappy Town, I’ll just toss you guys a link to the Wiki Page for Cappy Town. You can look up the Cappies if you want. But honestly, I have a feeling it’s not going to matter at all.
One of the girls stepped up.
“BE QUIET!” she shouted.
I find that screaming at the panicked masses usually has a calming effect. Especially when you’re the thing they’re scared of.
Everyone looked at her. She was wearing a crimson-red t-shirt and jeans. Her hair was midnight black, and her eyes were lime green.
Oh hell, don’t tell me-
“Who are you?” the mayor asked.
The other girl stepped forward. She was wearing a teal blue dress. Her auburn hair was being held back by a bow that matched her dress, and she stared at the crowd with blue eyes.
The fic is only 500 words long, this can’t possible be-
“I am Destiny,” the second girl said. “My friend here is Jasmine.”
For fuck’s sake it is. Less than 100 words into this fic fragment, and we’ve got a self-insert and a friend-insert.
And their cat, for whatever reason.
Jasmine looked slightly bored.
Well, it didn’t take long at all for this character to become unlikable. Still, not the fastest we’ve seen it happen here at the library.
“Just get all the people on this list and bring them down to the filming studio in Castle Dedede,” she called, throwing a list into the crowd.
Ba… dafuk? That’s it. You appear out of nowhere, cause a panic, tell everyone to shut up, and then chunk a list at them and order a bunch of the citizens rounded up without any explanation!? Is this supposed to sound like anything OTHER than that you’re having them rounded up for slaughter?
And who in their right mind would go along with this!
The Cappies are going to do it, aren’t they?
After she tossed the list, she started to walk away, but then Destiny grabbed Jasmine.
“You aren’t leaving!” she said, holding her friend back.
Because you didn’t explain yourselves or provide any coherent reason why the Cappies should follow your orders?
“Because I want to get there first!” Destiny ran ahead of Jasmine and started to sprint towards the castle.
I hope King DeDeDe eats both you idiots.
Yeah, this is just the prologue. BUT! Since yesterday was a friend’s birthday, I will continue on. Alright?
Are you fucking kidding me!? A full-line author’s note mid-chapter to tell the audience that you aren’t stopping there!?
Seriously, how could you possible have thought this travesty was a good idea!?
At the castle, Destiny and Jasmine were racing up and down the halls, looking for the filming roomand the throne room.
First, the throne room is the central room of the castle, if you can’t find it, then you are powerfully stupid.
Second, there won’t be a filming room because it is a medieval-era themed castle.
“I’ll go into the throne room,” Destiny told her friend. “Hail!”
I thought you were still looking for it.
This fic appears to be happening in random chunks!
Her cat, Hail, came dashing in.
The cat is both lucky and unlucky that the author even remembered it even existed.
Hail was an American short-hair with a white pelt and light gray spots scattered across it.
Somebody is awfully proud of themselves that they know what an American Short Hair is. Granted, it’s a generic mutt breed of cat, so you may as well have left that information out. It’s like saying: “The cat looks like a cat.”
“Mrow?” she meowed.
While you girls are out there could you-
*A massive explosion rocks the bunker*
“Go find Snow, and look for any wandering people that could know the way to either the throne room or the filming studio.”
Hail nodded, and raced off to find Snow.
Oh goody, yet another OC.
So, just so we’re all on the same page: In the first 300 words of this fic the author has introduced four OCs and spent about a quarter of the fic with the inserts wandering aimlessly around a castle looking for rooms that may or may not exist.
Author, your experiment failed.
Jasmine turned to Destiny. “I’ll go look for the filming room.” Then, she ran off.
You guys were already looking for the filming room! Did you forget? It’s been like 3 sentences!
Alone in the hallway, Destiny sped up and down the halls, searching for the throne room.
For fuck’s sake! Is this all the fic is? OCs lost in a formless void castle?
Eventually, she found it.
Whew. Good to know. I was on the edge of my seat wondering if she’d ever find the throne room. And then she did!
When she put her ear against the wall, she heard a song going.
Oh no! No, no, NO! No song lyrics!
Knock knock kno-knock knock.
That’s a weird song.
She instantly knew what it was, and started singing along in her own version.
I’m surprised she knows the knocking song. I’ve never even heard of it.
“Hey King Dedede I’m comin. And I have a question,” she sang, pushing on the door.
Uh… what the hell kind of song is that? That’s also quite different lyrics from the knocking. It’s not even the same number of syllables. Are you sure you know this song?
The music paused, and she heard a scream of fear from the other side.
Shit! It’s a SI-Sue! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!
Destiny kicked the door down.
Holy crap, dude! You know you’re going to have to pay for that right?
Is this something that you normally do? Break into a castle and start wrecking the doors? You’re kind of a jerk, aren’t you?
“Boo,” she said.
That’s nice. That’ll be twelve-thousand dollars for restoration of the antique door. Those historic restorations aren’t cheap, missy.
Dedede promptly fainted.
I don’t blame him. Unconsciousness is far better than being subjected to a self-insert.
And that’s it. That’s the fic. Well, aside from an author’s note:
I’ll forgive you if you promise never to write anything like this again.
I have to split this up, or else the intro will be longer than the chapters…
Seriously? It’s like 500 words. SC writes rants on video game canon longer than that. If this is a long chapter, you may have more serious problems with your writing than you perhaps know about.
I don’t know, if you feel that you have to apologize profusely for writing something, maybe you should just not write it. Or at least write it without being insipidly apologetic for it.
To make up for that, I’m going to tell you who the first character on the list is.
What list? What the hell are you talking about? Was this going to be one of those “name drop every character that you can remember because you can” fics?
*Rereads the first 100 words*
It was, wasn’t it?
HANS’ EPIC HORSE!
I just don’t have the strength. You’re lucky I’m so sick author, otherwise I’d tear into you for this schlop. Instead, I’m just going to leave it at: this fic was bad, and you should feel bad. It is a mercy to the universe that it appears you have since abandoned this idea. Now, complete the circle by going back and deleting it.
So, what’s better than a Kirby / Frozen crossover that doesn’t have any Frozen in it and barely any Kirby? Well, that would be a Kirby / Karate Kid crossover. But, this isn’t the hokey 1984 classic starring Ralph Macchio we’re talking about here. Nope, this is Kirby crossed with the heavily mediocre 2010 remake featuring Jaden Smith and Jackie Chan.
A great game franchise crossed with a forgettable remake movie!? What could go wrong!?
Well, I think the summary can give us a few clues right off the bat.
“In the right corner…the star of fighting on Popstar…Knuckle Joe! And in the left corner…the best fighter in China *snicker*…Dre Parker!” How will this play out? Minor alchohal refrence.
What is it about authors and their inability to write a summary. Authors, for reference, a summary is a short summation of your work. If you can’t get your mind around that, you might need to go back and study the basics before doing any more writing.
Anyway the fic opens up with this staggering author’s note.
Note: I don’t care- this story is kinda stupid. Oh well. XD
Oh yes, that bodes really well for this fic, doesn’t it. Well, at least that means the author won’t care that I savage this piece of fetid detritus.
Knuckle Joe waited in the back of the ring.
Knuckle Joe is in the back of that, naturally.
The kid he was facing next was good.
I love being told these things. Much better than building up the scene by showing the kid wining his matches.
Oh well, at least we were spared a literary montage.
But not better than him.
I love being treated like a gibbering invalid by fics. As if I wouldn’t understand this if I was shown the information in an entertaining way rather than just told with boring prose.
He would kill him…well not literally.
Narrative prose: you are doing it wrongest.
Joe grinned as the announcer stated his name.
The announcer said my name! Teehee!
He stepped up onto the ring, waiting for his next opponent.
Man I hope something happ-
“The next opponent has dropped out because of his fear!” The announcer announced. Joe grinned- he loved winning by default.
Yeah, screw the love of the sport, or the thrill of a victory well earned. Way better when you do jack shit and win because nobody worthwhile was there to challenge you! How exciting for the audience.
Fuck, when did this fic become about Buster!?
“But there is a kid- not from our world…” there were a few chuckles here and there, but Joe wasn’t surprised.
Given the kinds of shenanigans that go down in the Kirby universe, I doubt anyone would be surprised. Multiple worlds and alternate dimensions are just the surface of the freaky stuff that happens there on a daily basis.
I mean, look at Epic Yarn for crap’s sake!
“That has decided to take his place! Now presenting…Dre Parker from planet Earth!”
Author, you do know that karate tournaments don’t work like that, right? You don’t just get to sub in for somebody else when they lose their nerve. If Dre wants to fight, he needs to register and progress up through the brackets just like everyone else.
Joe’s grin faded. He had heard tales of this ‘Dre’.
It’s not important where, when, or how he’s learned of Dre, only that he totally knows about him.
Apparently he was one of the best karate fighters on Earth!
Yeah, no. Canonically, Dre was good for his age, but there is a world of difference between a 12 year old tournament winner, and a master who has spent decades perfecting their art. If you put Dre in the ring against Enes Erkanz, it would be a quick fight. And Dre wouldn’t be the one celebrating.
But the cocky smile returned to Joe’s face soon.
Not now, not tomorrow, but soon, and for the rest of his life.
Oh well, at least it wasn’t a smirk.
This kid was from Earth!
Dammit! Girls! The soup cannon!
[Scene redacted due to broth based violence]
Eliza’s right, leaving it in the can does a lot more damage.
He couldn’t be better than him!
*Taco falls out of his chair clutching his eyes*
The kid stepped up upon the stage, sweat trickling down his temples.
Stage? I thought we were at a Karate tournament near a sparring ring. When did we end up at this concert hall?
Joe smiled cockily at the kid and Dre smiled back confidently.
You boys are getting awfully close to smirking. Keep the fight clean or I’m gonna bust in there with Horatio to split you up.
This kid is almost cocky as me…Joe thought grinning to himself.
Swenia, load in the family sized can!
[Scene redacted due value sized violence]
Heating the contents to boiling before launching was just mean, Swenia.
But no matter…Joe was cockier.
Wait, is this a karate tournament or a smug jackass competition? I’ve kinda lost track.
Little hint, Joe, typically the cocky fighters aren’t the ones who win competitions.
And he was proud of it.
I guess that sorta tracks. Somebody prone to extreme arrogance might get to the point where they start taking pride in how conceited they can be.
The bell rang for the first part of the match and Dre immediately charged at Joe.
I see Dre still practices the “RAWR! GET HIM!” style of karate.
Joe neatly sidestepped and the kid stumbled to the floor.
Dre really is a true master of the art. Easily one of the best from Earth.
Joe punched Dre on the back, hard.
That’s excessive and probably a penalty against Joe.
The bell rang for the end of the first match. The announcer told the crowd that- during the finals only- that each opponent would get ten minutes to himself after each round.
Holy shit! Not even the Rocky movies padded the fights out that much!
Joe journeyed into the back, where he sat down and untied his bandana, letting his spiky hair fall into his face.
Woof, that’s a really terrible sentence. First off:
NO! Bad author, we leave the thesaurus alone!
Second: spiky hair, by its very nature, does not fall all over the place. Sure, anime hair can do what it wants, but this is a fic, not an anime.
*Snags the spare comma*
These are a precious commodity these days. Can’t let them go to waste like that.
This was easier than he had expected. But Dre was only human.
Not to mention an unskilled hack if that was the extent of his Karate knowledge.
That’s the end of chapter 1 of this fic. Chapter 2 starts pretty much where it leaves off, making the chapter break entirely pointless.
Dude, your fic is only 500 words. You don’t have enough to make a single chapter let alone two!
The bell rang to start the second match. Joe balanced on the mat, his head throbbing.
Having random, contrived headaches can really throw off your game.
“Oooh…” Joe clasped his head in pain. He had a headache from that beer Sirica had given him.
Why the fuck would you drink a beer in the middle of your tournament!? And why would you offer a beer to a guy who was in the middle of a tournament!? And why would a single beer lead to an immediate headache!?
My only guess is that Sirica has a lot of money riding on Dre winning so she drugged Joe.
“Curse that blerry (1) Sirica-!” Joe muttered.
The heck is that about? Wait, there’s a footnote.
A/N: (1) Blerry- A minor African curse word.
*Rubs his forehead*
I really don’t have the strength for this.
So, so many problems with this. Joe isn’t African. Joe isn’t known to use African slang or curse words, dropping random African curse words into your fic just because you can is stupid. Not defining the meaning of the curse word, leaving the audience without context. Misspelling the curse word that you’re so proud of knowing. Using a swear word in a fic you rated K+, even if it is in another language. And on and on.
I just… author, nothing about this fic seems like a good idea, and the first thing you did in the body of the fic itself was admit that it sucks. So why the fuck did you write it in the first place? Not only that, but why did you go and post it after you finished writing it and saw that it was dreck?
AND WHY AM I STILL HERE READING IT!?
I’m getting close to the point where I’m just going to let the girls blast me with the soup cannon.
Dre seemed fine, aside from the fact that he had a bruise on his back. Dre hung back instead of charging at Joe.
I’ll give this kid one thing, at least he didn’t do the stupid thing twice in a row. Here, you can have the crumbs left over from the redemption cookie I gave Jedi421.
Joe stepped nervously towards Dre.
Armory Jesus give me strength. You spent the whole first chapter painting Joe as a conceited douchebag who thought he far outmatched Dre in any way AND he won the first Match. Why the hell would he be nervous here!?
Author, learn to character!
He was nervous only because of that stupid headache stupid Sirica had given him.
Nope, try again.
Dre stepped towards Joe nervously.
I’ll give this one to Dre. Joe rocked him hard the first match, so being nervous is understandable.
Even so, we’ve gone from a boring scene with two smug jerks squaring off against each other to a pair of nervous wrecks pussy-footing around the ring/stage/whatever. I wouldn’t really call this an improvement from a pacing standpoint.
Dre swept and knocked Joe over.
Bringing a broom to a Karate match is kind of a dick move, Dre.
Probably also worth a penalty point.
Joe thudded onto the floor, but sprang out of the way before Dre could land a punch onto Joe’s back.
So wait, is this a Karate tournament, or some kind of “hit people from behind” tournament? Is the only scorable location the middle of the back?
You know, I’m beginning to suspect that metasgirl might not know anything about Karate or Karate tournaments.
Joe aimed a punch at Dre’s head but he ducked out of the way. Joe sprung out of the way and Dre stepped forward.
We get it, poorly paced fighting. Can somebody just punch somebody else in the back so that we can be done?
He’s gotten better… Joe thought nervously.
Which is an observation based on the 4 seconds that comprised the first fight and the whole 10 minutes Dre had to improve his technique between the matches.
Are you even trying, author?
But I’m not worried…am I? Dre kicked the air a centimeter away from Joe’s chest.
Dre, you’re supposed to kick Joe, not the air around him.
Joe sprung back and kicked Dre’s face.
Well, there we go. Second match goes to J-
Or, at least, he meant to.
Are you fucking kidding me!? If anyone has to explain to you why this is shitty narration, don’t write anything.
Joe fell to the floor with a thud and Dre kicked his back swiftly.
The hell just happened? Did Dre just beat Joe with the clever use of parallel universes theory?
The bell rang for the end of the second match. Joe stayed on the floor of the mat while Dre walked away confidently.
Ho ho ho, the confidence is on the other jackass now, isn’t it, Joe?
Joe’s head spun at the thought of being beaten.
Actually that’s probably the drugs Sirica used to make sure she capitalizes on the 20:1 odds she got on Dre.
How could this have happened…? Joe needed to get his game together.
And, you know, stay away from the bar during this next break.
And with that, this fic comes to a close. Blech, that was a rank little splort of text.
Next week I’ll be finishing up my one-shot bonanza with something very special, so look forward to that. Until then, patrons!