The Olympic Peninsula University of Twilight Fanfiction
Author's Note and Disclaimer: Before I start, I think some bowing and scraping is in order. First of all, to the wonderful Miss Cam, who wrote the original and the best: OFUM. I realize that I, who have never written fanfic before, am about to embark on a journey through interfic. Oh dear.
But back to the acknowledgements: Twilight belongs to Stephenie Meyer, a writer whose shoes I am not fit to wipe; the PPC (when mentioned) belongs to Jay and Acacia; references to HFA belong to Meir Brin; references to the Lord of the Rings book and Lord of the Rings movie belong to the Tolkien Estate and Peter Jackson/New Line Cinema respectively; the Harry Potter universe and associated characters belong to J. K. Rowling and whoever else has sunk their teeth into the poor wizard by now; Naruto belongs to Masashi Kishimoto and he's welcome to it – I'm holding a lifelong grudge against anime; and any other characters you recognize belong to their respective authors or creators. I am far too lazy to list them all here.
My own characters belong to me and me alone (it's mine…my ownnn…my precioussssssss…) and anyone caught tampering with them – although I don't see why you'd want to – will be dunked in a combination of Urple, Blello, Wilver and Opreen paint and slow-roasted.
And lastly, many thanks to my lovely beta Charlotte for her suggestions and corrections. Your work is muchly appreciated.
Chapter 1: A Bipolar Teen and a Squeeing Fangirl
Two young girls stood squinting in the bright morning sun, blinking at a set of ornate steel gates with "OPUTF" emblazoned in gold at the top. One girl looked around 17, with brown hair and porcelain skin. The other, shorter, girl looked barely fourteen, though the expression of sadistic glee she wore seemed out of place on her childish features. She pushed her wild dark hair out of her face and turned to the older girl, whose shell-shocked expression had not changed.
"Good, innit?" She asked, in a broad Aussie accent. "They've just finished the main building. All we've got to do now is start protecting the staff quarters, get the classes organized and start enrolling." Her face became progressively more stressed as she listed the gargantuan tasks yet to be completed. Sure, it didn't sound like a whole lot, but running a university sounds a lot easier when it isn't you doing it.
The older girl had snapped out of her trance. "But, Vi…" she began in a soft voice, sounding vaguely worried. She didn't get to finish. The younger girl's eyes were blazing.
"Never call me "Vi"." The adolescent girl spat the name "Vi" out like it was something the dog had done.
"Call me Violet, Miss Violet, Miss Gawyn…but never call me Vi." Her face was furious, but her expression softened minutely as she saw the older edging away slowly.
"Sorry, Bella," she sighed, smiling apologetically. "But I do hate "Vi". And I am a little on edge."
Bella relaxed, returning Violet's tired smile. She began again.
"I understand completely. With a name like Isabella…" she grimaced. "How soon do you expect to open the school?"
"I was hoping a month would be sufficient. But the sooner we get this underway, the sooner we can torture the fangirls." Violet's manic smile was back with a vengeance, and her partner's eyes were bright with fervour.
In a galaxy far, far away, someone was typing. Actually, approximately 26, 000,000 people were typing, but they are not important. However, one girl, sitting in a small flat in Sydney, Australia, was typing a story that would change her life.
"…and so then edawrd went to featherbloom miststar and says, i luv u, will u b my wife adn bella was rilly jelos so she slapped featherbloom. so edwrad slappd her, then he went off wit feathrbloom an they gor marrid. teh end. a/n plz r&r!!!!! I luvd writin it, u no u luvd redin it n if u r sum stuk up person that talks lik a techer, u suk an fuk off!!1!1! cuz I luv edwud n he is my b/f 4eva!!1!!"
Sighing with pleasure, Sam posted the fic. Why did have so many forms you had to fill out before you could post, she wondered? They took up so much of the time that she could have spent writing more Edward/Featherbloom Miststar fics. Featherbloom Miststar, incidentally, was also her screen name, her reasoning being that no-one would read a fic written by someone called Samantha Haddey. You had to show you had imagination, and then before you knew it you would be absolutely bathing in good reviews.
The story that she had just posted was in fact part of a series called "Eddie's New Luv", a string of fanfics about Edward Cullen that involved him meeting Featherbloom, finding out that she was a vampire, finding out that she was the most beautiful vampire ever to roam the earth, dumping Bella and, lastly, marrying Featherbloom. This last instalment was the thirteenth story. Someone should have told Sam that 13 was unlucky.
Violet Gawyn was not a very patient person. Unfortunately, she was also not a very organized person, which meant that she spent approximately one third of the time cocking things up, one third of the time fixing up the cock-ups and one third of the time complaining about all the cock-ups.
For a change, however, things were going right. The construction of OPUTF (officially known as the Olympic Peninsula University of Twilight fanfiction) had finished, the canon characters/teachers were all on board and willing to contribute their powers and evil to sort out the fangirl menace, and enrolments were coming along just brilliantly. In short, life was good.
Violet stood proudly in the hallway of the university, her greatest achievement to date. Maybe it wasn't as big a building as OFUM or HFA, but then again Twilight was a much smaller fandom – only about a fiftieth the size of Harry Potter. For the canon characters, however, Twilight was quite well-known enough thank-you-very-much. If some of the more voracious fangirls were to sink their teeth into a book that was not only much easier to read than Lord of the Rings, but which had immortal, beautiful creatures as its main characters, Violet shuddered to imagine the consequences.
"How's the staff section coming along?" she enquired of a passing Cliché. They were curious things, these Clichés. When they'd popped up a few weeks back due to an influx of stories with the same plots, same "twists" and, dare she say it, same Sues, she'd been more than a touch worried. So far, though, they seemed to cause no trouble other than the occasional deus ex machina lying around; and, since they were very industrious workers, she was loath to send them away.
"Excellently, miss," the Cliché replied, bowing. "The charms that you borrowed from HFA are in place, and we have specially trained guards patrolling."
"Trained how, exactly?" Violet groaned inwardly. She was sure that the Clichés had trained well, but she often wished that, like OFUM or indeed every other fanfiction university to be created, they had been gifted with minis. Little blue chibi-like things patrolling were not going to scare a paranoid mouse.
The little Cliché leader seemed to feel the same way. Half-heartedly, he went on.
"Basic weapons training, martial arts…oh, and," his face lit up, "We also carry pepper spray laced with Opreen paint."
Opreen was a combination (in the worst way) of orange, green and purple. It had turned up at about the same time as the Clichés, and Violet wasn't entirely sure that they hadn't brought it themselves. Certainly, they were the only creatures that could look on it without their eyes bleeding. She was, for the minute, willing to overlook the colour's odiousness: if Opreen couldn't keep the fangirls away, nothing could. Talking of fangirls…she turned back to the Cliché.
"Oh, and by the way, send word up to Mike and Jessica at enrolment and tell them to look out for a Samantha Haddey. Apparently she's one of the worst we've seen so far. In fact," she continued, frowning slightly, "Ask them to notify me when they've located her. I want to do this one in person."
"Will do, miss." The little blue blob bobbed off into the crowd of maintenance men, other Clichés and canon and non-canon staff.
Sam logged on to her computer and checked her reviews. As she waited for the page to load, she absent-mindedly picked up a copy of Twilight and glanced at it. She had been given it for her birthday by her mother, who was trying to encourage her to read more "proper fiction". Apparently, two hours on gawping at Harry/Draco slash wasn't enough to constitute reading, and Sam's suggestion that reading print-offs of the fics was the same idea had been met with stony disapproval by her mother. As it happened, however, Twilight had been the best thing (in terms of fanfic) that had ever happened to her. Not, of course, that Sam had ever bothered to read the whole of the book: she had considered it, then decided that it would be bowing to her mother's will. She had looked at the blurb and flicked to the character descriptions and romance scenes, then begun to write her own fics. The rest of her knowledge she had picked up from the other fanfiction she had read, as well as a couple of reviews. Much easier than reading a whole 360ish-page book.
The page finally loaded and Sam grinned excitedly. Six new reviews! She had been right in imagining that this would be the most popular instalment yet. Sam scrolled down, squeeing at each new message.
"i luv u ur my favrit writa! Plz keep ritin – cant wait 4 teh nxt 1 !!"
"omg that wuz soooooo good!!1! I luv fethabloom n i wish she wuz me!"
There were one or two nasty ones of course, from some obnoxious people who talked like her English teacher. Still, she thought, that was to be expected. Not everyone could have a talent like hers, and some people were just jealous.
She blinked as the page refreshed and, after a few moments, turned her attention to the new message in the "Reviews" column. She froze. There, in large capital letters, was a chilling message.
"DEAREST SAMANTHA: TURN AROUND SLOWLY AND, PLEASE, TRY NOT TO SCREAM. YOURS, MISS VIOLET AND OPUTF."
Slowly, fearfully, Sam swivelled around in her chair. She choked on her scream as she caught sight of a young girl, dressed in black and carrying a large, evil-looking weapon: a morning star (that she recollected from her years as a Naruto fangirl), only with large and very sharp forks instead of studded balls. Beside the girl was a strange blue creature, only a few heads tall. Both were absolutely furious.
Sam attempted to scream for her mother, who would have been making dinner a few rooms away, but all that came out was a faint "Meep". Funny, she thought, how hard it is to avoid your mother's attention when you've racked up an $800 broadband bill, yet how difficult it is to get said attention when you're about to be decapitated with a morning star. Trembling, she squeezed her eyes tight shut and waited for the end. For a few moments, nothing happened.
After a few moments, Sam's head was still firmly attached to her neck and Sam herself was beginning to convince herself that this was nothing but a particularly weird dream. She reminded herself to never again sit up all night eating jersey caramels.
Sam was snapped rudely out of her reverie by someone poking her none too gently on the shoulder. As she opened her eyes warily, she was greeted by the sight of the strange girl standing approximately one centimetre in front of her, still twirling the evil weapon threateningly. Backing away, she tripped over her chair and landed hard on her rump on the floor. Her antics elicited a brief smirk from her attacker, who then sat down on the chair Sam had just stacked it over and made herself at home. As Sam watched in terror and bewilderment, the girl took a sheet of paper from the blue blob standing to attention at her feet and began to read from it.
"Dear Miss Haddey,
You have been charged with thirteen counts of writing non-parody badfic, creating a Mary Sue, creating more mini-Vamps than anyone would have believed possible, rape of the English language and, in general, screwing over canon until it is beyond recognization or help. You are sentenced to spend a year at the Olympic Peninsula University of Twilight Fanfiction (commonly known as OPUTF) learning why badfic is evil. If you refuse to cooperate, you will be handed over to the Protectors of the Plot Continuum and," the girl looked over the paper and gave Sam a smile that would have sent a charging rhinoceros running for its mummy, "you really don't want that. Unless you'd like to know what your insides look like, which I rather think you don't…"
Sam had, by this time, pulled herself together somewhat and had noticed the fact that she was not dead or even very much hurt (apart from a sore bum from her fall). Some of her bravery had returned from its brief holiday, giving her the strength to do some talking of her own.
"Who are you and what the hell are you doing in my room?" she demanded. Her anger would have been a lot more impressive had her voice not cracked somewhere in the middle, giving away her panic. The other girl did not seem in the least fazed.
"Enrolling, dear."
Sam blinked, and the girl disappeared. In her place was a bunch of stapled sheets, a pen, and a whiff of brimstone.
Back at OPUTF, Miss Violet shuddered and rubbed her temples. Visiting fangirls was always hard: all the stupid began to hurt after a while. The Cliché at her side was taking notes on a small clipboard, muttering frantically as it did so.
"Suethor, grammar-killer, canon-rapist…" the little creature appeared to be having an aneurism.
"Calm down. She'll get her comeuppance soon enough, don't you worry."
Laying the morning-star-like weapon at her feet, she remembered with a grimace how it had come to exist: it was the "forks", created by the fangirls' inability to capitalise the small town's name.
Sam's hand shivered as she picked up the set of papers. Carefully, tentatively, she flipped over the cover page and began to read.
The first page was strangely normal – just the general come-to-our-school spiel thing, she thought, recalling the strange teenager's words as she scanned the page.
"Blah blah blah, recently developed…all new curriculum…blah…taught by Carlisle Cullen, Edward Cullen…WHAT?!"
That can't be right, she thought. Edward Cullen was a character in a book. A beautiful character…but no. Concentrate! She couldn't help herself drifting off into Cullen-filled dreams, even despite all that had happened today. It was instinct; for her, at least.
She was crazy; that explained it. Temporary insanity brought on by too many jersey caramels and cans of Red Bull. And if she was crazy, there was no harm in signing the papers, right? In addition, the tone of the strange girl's voice had nothing short of terrified her. She wasn't sure who the Protectors of the Plot Continuum were, but she was certain that she did not want to find out.
Slowly, she began to fill out the papers. The first questions were a little bizarre; but, in comparison with the rest of the evening's events, relatively tame.
"What is your name?
What is your species? Vampire/Human/Werewolf/Other (please specify)
What is the average wingspan of a swallow?"
Name? Smiling, Sam scribbled down "Featherbloom Miststar". Well, why not? If she was hallucinating, she may as well give herself the name she'd always wanted. Species? Human was way too dull, vampire was still a little ordinary, and who wanted to transform into a big dog at full moon? On a sudden inspiration, Sam circled both 'vampire' and 'human'; she could be immortal and beautiful, without any of that icky blood-sucking bit.
The rest of the questions passed like a blur: Sam vaguely remembered writing about her undying love for Edward Cullen, and then skipping through at least a page of small black text, thinking that she should probably read that fine print. Falling into bed exhausted, she fell asleep before she could register that the forms, and a semester's worth of her clothes, had disappeared into thin air.
One Last A/N: Phew…first chapter up! I am an extremely lazy and distractible writer (and I'm working on a few other fics at the same time) so it could be a while before I update again. In the meantime, please review and let me know if you want your name to be mentioned in upcoming chapters. I'll do my best to fit you in.
Yours, Miss Violet.