O' Allah, save EgyptThen you're obviously among the minority who do/can afford to read such kind of material. I more or less can't afford to do so, financially and time-wise speaking.
Ash-shaʻb yurīd isqāṭ ḥukm al-ʻaskar
I'm aware of that. But they're still just following rules that have been in place for years. It sucks for some people, but getting upset because the rules you agreed to of your own free will are being enforced is ridiculous. And while a personal warning would be nice, the warning in the guidelines should really be enough. And if anyone's confused over the ratings and the proper one that their fic falls under, they should probably backup their story before they ever post it just to be safe.
No logic can defeat our purpose! PM box is always open.
¿Viteh?The problem with FF.Net is it has a monopoly. Post your story anywhere else and it'll go unread and unreviewed. That's why people still resorts to posting lemons there even against the guidelines. FF.Net has basically become a three ton python strangling the development of fanfiction communities, because everything has to be there to be aknowledged. So in a way, they have basically reaped the 'good' (their position as the top fanfic site everywhere) along with the 'bad' (contents they theorically don't want there).
Haters gonna hate, apologists gonna make apologies up.
O' Allah, save EgyptReminds me of WH 40 K's Imperium and the major beef that the Inquisition's Recongregator faction has with its current incarnation.
Ash-shaʻb yurīd isqāṭ ḥukm al-ʻaskar
O' Allah, save EgyptWhoah. I am genuinely surprised. Over 14, 000 signatures?
Ash-shaʻb yurīd isqāṭ ḥukm al-ʻaskar
I signed it. I wrote a new Silent Hill fanfic, my first in over a year. D:
The Sonic Wiki CuratorWell, I still have two fanfics available to read over at FF.net. For the uninformed:
Wonderful to the GODDAMN future!!!
If you want, read and tell me what you think of them. Just... refrain from insulting me, alright?I promise nothing! Just Kidding.
edited 10th Jun '12 9:11:33 AM by HandsomeRob
I am become death, Destroyer of worldsI signed the petition, too. It's nearly 30, 000 signatures as of this writing. I also decided to move to Yourfanfiction.com
Holy crap, a fanfic archive that I've never heard of before, that has different features from The Pit?! I'm def going to check this out later. Okay, so it seems pretty small right now, but shows promise. There are a lot of features different from ff.net, such as:
edited 11th Jun '12 11:10:12 PM by BearyScary
I am become death, Destroyer of worldsNah, probably not. Considering that FF.net's explicit content policy was never enforced for 10 years and they just suddenly do it now, is really unacceptable and one of the main reasons people are petitioning them.
edited 12th Jun '12 11:06:19 AM by Demongodofchaos2
Yeah, why did they start enforcing it more all of a sudden? I mean, part of my original, highly dubious opinion on explicit fanfic came from some of the fics listed on the SBIH part of this site. Still glad we cut that one.
The Hardcore LegendsI gave Yourfanfiction.com a lookover, and despite the lack of volume, it's much more organized then ffnet is. So I signed up under a new penname, and sent in a few category requests. And I have to say, the admin is a crapload more efficient than over at ffnet, and a heck of a lot more amiable too. I'll probably do most of my new stuff over there instead of ffnet, although I'll continue old stuff where it is.
Cmdr. of His Supremacy's Armed ForcesI sent a invite request to AO 3 and I should get an account by 29th of September. Yeah, I'm not waiting that long. If anyone could send an invite, which I'm sure is possible, it'd be cool. I got a story that's slightly more explicit than anything I've done before, and I have a feeling FF.net won't like it. (Nothing graphic or pornographic, but there are frequent references to sexual activity as well as bloody violence.)
edited 16th Jun '12 4:45:52 AM by Steventheman
I think that YFF could be the Facebook to The Pit's MySpace. Why is FF.net referred to as "The Pit"? I think it refers to how huge it is and how hard it is to find something of interest.
The Hardcore LegendsNursing an idea for a Fire Emblem Judgral fic. Premise: Volon, a Villain Sue Evil Genius Bruiser with a penchant for Grand Theft Me, plans to become an Evil Overlord God Emperor. His method? Kidnap various people descended from the Twelve Gods, including a descendant of Loptousu. Then, over the course of several generations, implement what basically amounts to a cross between Wife Husbandry and selective breeding among them (with liberal amounts of Mind Control, Grand Theft Me, and inducing comas as needed), with the ultimate goal of one day creating the Ultimate Life Form, who will have fully inherited all Twelve Holy Bloodlines and the full power of Loptousu, essentially becoming the closest thing the setting has to a current Physical God. And then use Grand Theft Me on said Ultimate Life Form, and then proceeding to Take Over the World.... forever. Why? To see if it can even be done. There is no line he won't cross in the pursuit of his goals, although he does tend to prefer Pragmatic Villainy when possible.
Child of ChaosQuestion - are there any decent-sized sites that take both fanfics and original stories, and have about equal amounts of both? I'm not sure if a site like that exists, but it'd be nice if I could find one. I do write fanfics, and I would like to share some of them, but I don't feel like it right now. I'll probably post here again later.
OK, so, I've finally decided to post the first three chapters of my Animorphs fanfic. I'm kind of new at this whole writing fanfiction thing, let alone trying to get people to read my fanfictions, but here goes, I guess.
Be not afraid...
Normal? Unlikely.Okay, decided to offer up a selection of the first chapter from my Walls Trilogy, the full fic has a lot of NSFW in it, but this selection does not....(that's alright, right?) [quote]The boy ran down an alley, glancing every-so-often behind him, terrified out of his mind. In his arms sat a box, a small box, a music box. It was the only thing that mattered to him anymore. He ran quickly, his breath escaping in small hisses as he passed, running towards the trading district. He glanced behind him, terrified out of his mind. Of course, he had good reason for this behavior. Finally, he reached the trading district, and finally, his father's shop. Running in, he placed the box on the counter, smiling pleasantly. The only thing he had hoped for, all this time was his parents' approval. All his life, he'd believe that one day he'd escape that feeling. That feeling of being dad and mom's little disappointment. That was why he'd become a delivery boy. That's why he'd run out every morning, with his little music box, receiving oh-so-precious but oh-so-rare (not to mention illegal) materials within the confines of it, and running back to his father's store before he was killed. They all knew that all 'delivery boys' were targets for any sort of family in the area. That was why it was remarkable for any boy to volunteer to be one, or any girl, for that matter. The deliverers never cared about their lives. They only cared about getting their materials and returning them to their families, while keeping away from hired guns or other deliverers who'd be apt to take the materials. Sometimes, deliverers were even modified to have parts implanted into them from discarded robots. These were known as special deliverers, and for the most part, they were outlawed, and all officers, if they note anything out of the ordinary with a child, are suggested, no, ordered to shoot on site. With the incompetent law enforcement that District 876 employed, this lead to many accidental deaths – but there was always an excuse to cover it up. Just as there was an excuse for all of the families to still get away with this business. The Stotches were one of these families. Leopold 'Butters' Stotch was their delivery boy –notably, their WILLING delivery boy. He took pride in his job, although he was new to it, and the sheer fact that he'd lost his materials to others at different time periods – and there was always the threat that a hired gun (or as they like to be called, postmortem men) that could take him out. Notably, Little Red – the only name she was known by – the infamous assassin for the most prominent family in the area (being that their delivery boy was notable for always getting the job done), the Marshes, seemed to be particularly dangerous. That was another thing about the postmortem men – they went by fairytale names, just as the delivery boys went by nursery rhyme names. Butters' happened to be Little Boy Blue, and that was the only thing other delivery boys knew him by – unless they had established alliances, such as the Marshes and Broflovskis had ties - just as everyone seemed to not give any shits about the Stotches, considering Butters, so they had no real reason to hide their identities. He'd known since he started school that Kyle happened to be Little Jack Horner and that Stan was the infamously dangerous Jack A. Nory. It was an unstated truth that if Little Boy Blue, Little Jack Horner, Jack A. Nory, Peter Piper (that being Kenny) , and Doctor Foster (that being, of course, Cartman) were to ever meet during routes, they would pretend to fight, however, they would not kill each other, nor would they steal the others' materials. Only, if truly ordered to, they would truly fight. This agreement, of course, did not hold true for Little Jack Horner and Doctor Foster, although this was strictly towards each other – and otherwise, this agreement seemed to stay firmly in place, with encounters only leading to a few scratches to prove that they had found each boy – and if their families were to ever get on bad terms, the child would not be so lucky. Butters had about five of these scars already. His father took the package and nodded. Butters sighed, slumping down onto the floor, smiling weakly. Another job done. He could only hope that his parents would be proud of him for getting the materials this time. It was more or less something he hoped and dreamed for, but with their wreckless emotions and their equally as wrecked marriage, it was almost a hopeless dream. Thinking about this almost made him cry every time, but he sucked it up. Delivery boys don't cry. At least, he guessed so. If they did, he'd let his tears fall without abandon. But he couldn't. He had to be strong for those who couldn't be - those who'd died in his same line of work. Although those deep thoughts only came from Butters on a rare occasion, he blinked, sitting up straight, as a small albino girl walked into the shop. She looked somewhat dazed, but smiled, staring straight into Butters' eyes. "My name is Iris." She stated. "Is this the Stotch residence?" "Yes." Butters nodded, getting up. "This is Stotch's Weaponry. What may I do for you?" "My name is Iris Valmer, otherwise known as Lucy Lockett. I am here to offer my services to the Stotch family, as somewhat of a truce between the Stotch family and the Valmer family. I am a special deliverer, you see." She smiled sweetly as the key – the awkward, jilting, out-of-place key in her back that reminded you that, no, she was soulless, she was one of them, an abomination against the lord, a combination of child and machine, a special deliverer. "I will work to help both the Stotches and the Valmers collect materials, and make sure that both sides are satisfied with deliveries. However, if I turn up dead, the Valmer family will instantly attack the Stotch residence. If I come home empty-handed, but alive, I will be rewarded by Master Valmer and I will be able to go on with my deliveries as usual, however, you will get no benefit. Please, make a decision quickly." "U-Um….um….mom, dad!" Butters yelped, unsure what to do with this girl. Iris smiled, cracking her knuckles absent-mindedly, still with that overly interested, possessed, bizarre grin and that wind-up key in her back turning and turning as a sign of life in that soulless body that filled itself with mechanics of all sorts. Stephen Stotch, Butters' father, left his workshop room, and walked towards the counter, noticing the situation. He began to discuss matters with the small girl, and she spoke with the wording and manner of a dignified adult, with only a British accent undertone hinting that she, once, had origins in some place, had been a child once before she became a terrifying creature of gears and wires that she was now. Iris looked down at Butters, being about an inch taller than him, and smiled. "Your father has said that we will be working together from now on. I do so await our first joint delivery, and I will go tell Master Valmer that our alliance has been established. Thank you, Master Stotch, and I will see you later, Little Boy Blue." Iris ran off, her legs running faster than any human could dream of running, and her eyes turning a faint shade of red as she did. Butters glanced up at his father, who got down on his level. "Now, Butters, you'll be working with Iris now. Do not tell her anything unnecessary." Stephen stressed the word unnecessary in an unusual way. "Do not tell her our private business; only cooperate with her if necessary, or if I or your mother tell you so. Got it?" "Y-Yes sir." Butters nodded quickly, somewhat terrified by both the mechanical girl and his own father, who grounded him on a daily basis when in an agitated mood. "Good boy." Stephen patted him on the head, and walked off. Butters sighed, breath escaping from his lips and floating out as if to take all his worries away with it. He could only wish. He could only wish, and wait, and deliver as each day passed by. The point being, the Valmers were infamous for passing around alliances like candy. Iris was most likely working for, as well as the Stotches, the Marshes (but who wasn't), the Blacks, the Broflovskis, the Cartmans, and many many others that Jimmy'd established to save his own skin, just as he kept good relationships with the deliverers at school as to establish this as well. He was 'trustworthy', and that was exactly why he WASN'T trustworthy. He was TOO honest, TOO off, TOO strange. It seemed to always work the opposite way in the world of deliverers. Cartman was trusted as he was rotten to the core and cowardly – if he made an alliance, he promised no backup, but it was honest if there was no option to reject it outright – and if it was presented at all, it was a good sign. Butters was the lowest pedal, leading to only beginner alliances – ones presented to insure that in the future, if there was potential, there'd be more presents in the future if the alliances weren't ruined. Naturally, of course, alliances were the easiest thing in the world to ruin, and there were many who knew this more than others – the Crabtrees, the Mephestos, the Barbradys – that one being particularly gruesome considering how the Barbradys had played both sides of the allegiance, being orchestrated by the Tuckers, and rumor had it that his daughter – a mentally-challenged overweight little girl of only 12 had been turned into a special deliverer FOR the Tuckers, and had her memories changed entirely, just as the same had happened to the mad scientist daughter of Mephesto – Antoinette – being turned into a special deliverer for the Tweaks. Neither of them were to know, and neither of them ended up knowing as of yet. Butters had been lucky that his family hadn't hired any postmortem men or special deliverers as forces, and they had no plans to – as of the last time he asked, at least. He could only hope that Stephen and Linda's plans hadn't changed – adding 'siblings' to his family would terrify him. The worst thing of all was his neverending fear that once he got 'siblings', he'd be forgotten altogether. Maybe even get his memories erased and turned into a special deliverer, himself. A shell of his former self, artificial happiness and all. As he walked up the stairs to his room, he sighed, realizing the morning would bring a entirely new show – Butters happened to also be 'Little Marjorine', a performer in cute acts (featuring singing and dancing) during the day on weekends, and that was how his parents got their money, besides selling hand weapons. At least, then, he could see him. It was a pity that the boy that he ended up loving played the cow. A black-haired boy with his hair cut short – a bit young, but really smart, sweet, kind, cute…he babbled on and on about him, although this had only come out towards Kenny, who'd been high at the time, and so he offered his theories. "Dude, what if the boy is a crossdressing girl? Just like you're a crossdressing boy. Then you'd have to crossdress as a boy crossdressing as a girl and she'd have to crossdress as a girl crossdressing like a boy and…." Kenny laughed. "It'd be fuckin' hilarious." "…I don't think that'll happen." Butters grinned weakly. Kenny merely laughed again and wrapped his arm around him. "My Butters is in looooveeee! So this means I can't offer you casual sex when you get older?" Kenny stared into Butter's eyes as if asking him an entirely serious question of great importance. "I mean, we're both probably natural blondes, we co—" "Sorry, Kenny." "Fuck. Well, you know where I am if you ever want a good lay." "…..Yeah. Thanks, Kenny." "No, thank you. Hey, why's there a crow pecking at your ear? And it's changing colors?" "It's because you're high, Kenny." "Oh. Right." It'd been forgotten since, but he still seemed to remember the part that Butters hoped would be forgotten – the part where he propositioned the boy for casual sex – and this offer was always rejected, causing Kenny to have mild disappointment. The only thing, however, that Butters could draw from anything was that Keith – was that his name? – Keith was someone he truly loved. Someone who he could relate to, someone who he could fall for, the first person to join the act and the first person to be truly enthusiastic about them, causing Butters to regain his spirit as well and dance all around as Marjorine, while Stephen and Linda hoped to god that one day, Little Marjorine could go perform for rich families – maybe in Denver, the capitol, the center of the whole state – and some place that some families only dream of going. Naturally, Butters kept his head held high and his dreams still existing, putting on a good show, always, always, and then switching immediately into delivery boy mode afterwards. There was no rest for those who had to be deliverers. No rest. Especially those, who, as best summed up, were unsuspecting heroes.[/quote]
"I could eat a knob at night." — Karl Pilkington -Otherwise known as Tsuruya-san or Spanky Ham-
Wonderful to the GODDAMN future!!!So... We have a Legend Of Korra Thread, but is there a thread for the original series? Got something I was considering bringing up, but I might be willing to due it here if there isn't a thread for it.
I wrote a well-known fan fiction called Travels through Azeroth and Outland. This story follows a Forsaken narrator as he explores every inch of pre-Cataclysm World of Warcraft. On the way, he meets people from all walks of life and learns about the different cultures in Azeroth and Outland. I stick as close to the lore as possible, but I do engage in a lot of speculation. Some of the strange or absurd elements of World of Warcraft are examined, and it goes into detail about things like aesthetics and geography that the game can't really explore. It has it's own TV Tropes page, and was twice features on Wo W Insider. Also, Alliance fans, don't dismiss it because of the Forsaken narrator; he eventually becomes extremely critical of the Horde. The travelogue is extremely long, but most of it can be read in any order. Check out a few zones that interest you and see if it's to your liking. However, the Northrend sections have a bit more narrative, particularly the Crystalsong Forest - A Point of No Return sections.
edited 27th Jun '12 12:04:55 PM by Destron
¿Viteh?More than Fifty Four Ways to Die
Saw Russell woke up in a dirty, smelly and dark closed room, feeling dizzy and nauseated. Then, however, terror overtook him as he realized he was chained to a wall by a leg! As much as he tried freeing himself, he couldn't! He was completely alone and trapped without even knowing why or how he was there, or where was there! Then a small TV set hanging from the ceiling turned itself on, and Mr. Pickles appeared in it. The tiny, monocle wearing pickle evilly gloated about his wicked plan to torture Russell to either self mutilation or death. He could walk out free... but only if he cut his own leg with a saw that was a hand, first! There were no keys for his chain, and no means to break the chain either; Mr. Pickles threatened to detonate the room if Russell tried to saw through the chain. Paralyzed by terror and repulsion, Russell stayed there, quiet, cringing and without touching the saw, for three straight days. Starving slowly, until he ached, withering himself in the darkness, slowly going insane, consumed by despair, hopes for a rescue growing more and more distant... Finally, with a frustrated yell, he grabbed the saw and quickly cut his leg off. Then, with tears flowing down his eye, he looked down at the severed leg on his hands... His severed wooden leg. He frowned, gave the camera one of Handy's patented scowls, got up, limped for the door, pushed it open and went out.
Haters gonna hate, apologists gonna make apologies up.
love lockdown, you lose.Posted chapter thirteen of my South Park fanfic The Ballad of Stoot and Argyle, and also made a works page for it, because I was bored.
¿Viteh?Part of a still untitled Ore no Imouto ga Konna ni Kawaii Wake ga Nai! anthology I'm preparing.
My Parents Can't Be This Idiotic "The good news are, " Daisuke announced, "You aren't blood siblings!" Kyosuke's face lit up. "Really?-! Alright!" Kirino drooped down. "Ehhhh! That takes a lot of the appeal away...!" "So, who's the adopted one?" Kyosuke asked. Daisuke pointed at Kirino and Yoshino pointed at Kyosuke, then both said at once, "You are!" The parents looked at each other, shocked, while their children stared on, stupified. "But, I thought you had said...!" Daisuke and his wife said in unison again. My Little Pony Can't Be This Cute Applejack and Big Mac looked at each other, looked at the title hanging over them, and then said in synchrony, "We ain't going there!"Tales Calculated to Drive you Batty
Final Riddle Batman woke up to find himself looking at a small note pinned on top of him, right above his face. It read, What is the only thing that can take you to Infinity, by taking you underground? A coffin, of course. Damn Nygma. It's Super-Effective! Joker cleared his throat and began solemnly for the assembled Yaoi-Con crowd, "So, Jack Sparrow, Edward Cullen, Legolas, Wolverine, InuYasha, Naruto, Harry Potter and Edward Elric all walk into a gay bar..." Later: "And you say they didn't die of laughter?" "No, Commissioner Gordon. Massive blood loss through their noses."
Haters gonna hate, apologists gonna make apologies up.
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