Fan Fiction -

[Null]

Post fan fiction for lolcows here instead of main threads.

Here's an IRL email I got from Jan writing fanfiction about me or something.

(Open in a new tab or you won't be able to read this.)

 

[SpessCaptain]

Tiberius Broken Chapter One:
By Inheritor-Captain Valentine Valiant♥, (c) Future.
Originally Written for 1st Kiwi Writing Challange.​

Stryker was alone: No squad, no Ramirez or Jenkins – his ranking prefix was no longer suitable, no more was he the Commander; he was Stryker, the Stranger in the Darklands. His thousand-stare eyes spoke the volume of what he had seen as he perched apon

Stryker had been out in the Darklands for so long, he had forgotten what year it was, how old he was, how long it had been when Brianna Wu finally took over the world. The landscape of America was now dry, riddled with the mutated ideals of Wu manifested into creatures; the land was not fit for humans like Stryker but for the ever-marching and parading Stutters, a grotesque creature which prowled along and brought tribute to their queens. Like overgrown ants, Stryker thought, always going back to its nest… and to its queen.

Stryker knew that the Stutters were blind, locating each other with a repeating sound of Oy Gevalt in the breeze. Stryker knew they were close and held his position on a high rocky outcropping, whenever one of these strange undulating creatures got close Stryker praised himself for his silent footsteps, if he shot the Deagle he would have been locked on by all the stutters in the area. Softly padding around the pack of mutants, Stryker moved along a decrepit buildings rough stone wall, huddling into a corner until the calls became softer and more distant.

The pattering of rain awoke Stryker from his hateful nap, lurching up he surveyed the afternoon horizon. Stryker hunched up his shoulders from the stressful weight of his Deagle-Nation Approved backpack before trotting off into an aimless direction. Stryker had nowhere to go and nomadically approached each situation, stumbling onto outcrops of humans which often would feel the cold embrace of a deagle bullet. You couldn’t trust any man and his dog in this abyssal landscape.

In the light-deficient night, Jack Stryker felt the crunch of cutlery under his steel-capped boots, a small skeleton-patterned cup had fallen apart into a sharp curled shards, he looked around the area and noticed the stirring of life. Raising his Deagle in defence, Jack silently loaded his gun and scoured the area. In the pale moonlight Stryker saw the shimmering of a Katana and the flair of black hair in the bushes.

“Stop right there,” said welder, “Drop the Mark XIX Desert Eagle in .50 Action Express.”

Stryker was shocked, the katana-wielding person knew exactly what it was and he lowered his deagle in respect to the master. Silently, he paused and watched as the figure exited from the shadowy foliage. It was a woman. This woman was dressed in black military garb he could see that this woman was an elite special BLACKOPS commander, her face was gleaming with a strike of blood, obviously from a recent scuffle, when she lowered her own weapon Styrker appreciated how professional she looked.

With an grin she registered who the man was, “Commander Jack Stryker?”

Stryker nodded.

“I am Corporal Cena, Jane Cena,” I was there when you exterminated Al-Qaeda, “They thought you died.”

Jack was about to reply when suddenly the loud call of a Stutter pierced his ears, “Sssttoop making fun of my s-s-s-tutter!” it hissed as it pounced upon Stryker like a feral journalist. Corporal Cena launched afterwards with her katana and sliced the Stutter’s soft neck, the blood spraying all over Stryker as it curled up and groaned out its call in pathetic attempt. With a heavy breath Cena wiped away the blood from her cheek and looked down at Stryker who was prone on his back with exhaustion, Cena crouched down and gave him her hand, pulling him up with her strength before patting down the dust and blood, “What brings you out here, Commander?”

“Revenge,” he mutters.

 

[HG 400]

FORBIDDEN LOVE ; Part One

Null closed the door behind him. His heart had been wracked with fear and apprehension the entire night, but as he heard the latch click shut he realised he was no longer nervous.

"It is time."

Katsu nodded and trembled, his throat catching. They'd hoped for this moment so long, but neither dreamed it would someday happen. All those coy flirtations, those glances pregnant with lust, this forbidden love was their culmination.

"What goes on here, Null... we can't let anybody know. If the forums found out... this is forbidden love"

Null nodded and gently stroked Katsu's cheek.

"Nobody will find out, my sweetest dove. This will stay between you and I."

Katsu nodded and melted into Null's chubby, yet dominant arms as he tenderly led him to the bed. A soft murmur was the only resistance as Null peeled his clothes away, gently, but confidently.

"Oh Katsu, my darling little sweety-nuggins. I'm going to make tender, gentle love to you all night, and... I want us to keep our eyes open for it."

Katsu nodded, overwhelmed by his love for Null. As he wrapped his arms around Null and melted back into the bed he whispered a single sentence...

"I love you..."

 

[Sanic]

Love Is Blind

One day, the entirety of the Kiwi was bored and had a hard anal piercing gay sex orgy. Katsu was always the bottom, Waifu was always the top.

The End

 

[voiceguy]

I'm going to make tender, gentle love to you all night

Null somehow struck me as someone who would like it rough and rowdy, so it's nice to see he has a softer side.

 

[HG 400]

FORBIDDEN LOVE ; Part Two

Katsu sighed happily as Null entered him gently and tenderly and began sliding slowly in and out, his thrusts timed perfectly to match the unpredictable and ravenous beating of his aspartame-fueled heart arrhythmia.

"Oh Null," gasped Katsu "Why can't we be doing this forever? Why can't we let our forbidden love run wild?"

"Shush, my sweetest dove," whispered Null "I'd be proud to be seen with you on my arm, anytime, anywhere..."

"Oh, Null!"

Katsu clutched him tightly, clinging hard as they climaxed together in ecstasy. They melted together sweatily into each other's arms, snuggling and petting, overwhelmed with love and affection and happy, eager thoughts of their future life together.

"All this lovemaking has left me starving, my love. Are you hungry, my beautiful boy?" asked Null, tracing a fingertip slowly across Katsu's full, pouting lips

"Oh, I wouldn't.. I wouldn't mind getting some Popeye's, but those places are always full of... well, you know..."

"African-Americans?" asked Null

"Yes, that."

 

[Tranhuviya]

Nobody saw the final shot that day. The muzzle flashes from both combatant's weapons were blinding. But one thing was sure: the final shot was deafening. The two fighters drew back from one another at the same time, both in pain.

Only Tyce fell. His knees hit the ground. His Beretta "Life Ruiner", years of craftsmanship and drug-induced modifications on his part, fell to the cold earth. Before he could fall to the ground totally, Jace caught him.

The brothers of Deagle Nation embraced. Wu's manipulation had been set aside for once, and only once. Summoning all his remaining strength, Tyce whispered in a pained voice:

"ef these- these peeple tell thes stery to theer cheldren before they sleep- meybe one dey, they'll see that an analchest is- is a men who knews he's free."

 

[John Titor]

A long time ago Null was sticking his thumb out of the road because he was hitchhiking because his car broke down. a car approached him and when Null opened the door...

Spoiler: Ending

A TRANNY POPPED OUT

 

[SuperFilter]

The sluthater walked down the street. He was shirtless, no longer needing to hide his body. He had blown housands of dollars on surgery, and anyone who saw would agree that he had achieved nothing short of perfection. He spotted two sluts off to the right, ripe for the slaying. The sluthater walked slowly towards them, making sure to use the perfect angle of approach to maximize desirability. The women looked at him, and he could see the lust in their eyes. Keeping his cool, he calmly grabbed a cola can one of them was holding and threw it at the other, wetting her hair and clothes with cola, humiliating her. The other looked dumbfounded, yet he could tell she was more focused on his masculinity and confidence than on her friend. He looked at her with disdain and said:

"Suck me off, bitch."

She immediately dropped to her knees and began undoing his belt. However, he noticed a 2/10 subhuman stomping angrily towards him. He adjusted his cuck glasses and asked what he was doing to his sisters. The sluthater sighed. It was time for a redpill.

With a swift movement, he spun and slammed his foot right in the subhuman's face, applying extra pressure to the nose and jaw. Little did this LOLCOW realize the blessing he had been given. The kick had readjusted his maxilla and fixed his nose, upgrading him from a 2/10 to a 8/10. Another woman immediately came running and began undoing his own pants. He seemed shocked, but as he touched his face and saw the slut so eager to take his virginity, he gave the sluthater a thumbs up and began slaying his own pussy in the middle of the street.

But the sluthater was distracted by something else. He suddenly remembered: the President was visiting the town with his family. Spotting the presidential car coming up on the street, the sluthater did a triple aerial backflip through the window and immediately began having his way with the President's underaged daughter who was nevertheless a slut. The President, brought to tears at the sight of such a historic slaying, immediately lowered the age of consent to 14.

Days went by, and as more subhumans and sluts were redpilled, the world was quickly turned on its head, the old social norm replaced by a new one. One where the true men rule, all women live to serve them sexually and subhumans who refuse the redpill can choose between slavery and death. The sluthater looked at it all from atop a hill, and marveled at his work. He looked toward the skies, and there he saw Elliot Rodger himself, smiling at him from Heaven. He brofisted the hero, the martyr, and realized his own ascension was at hand. Floating toward the clouds, he took his seat as True God-Emperor of the Universe, slaying cosmic sluts for a million eternities before waking up and shitposting on the Kiwi Farms all afternoon.

 

[Rin]

I wrote fanfic for Holden of him and the Slaton sisters.

 

[Betachu]

For a while, I've had this idea stuck in my head. Basically, the idea for a parody continuation of Sonichu. The plots will be written like they were thought up by Chris, but the story itself will directly parody Sonichu's lack of plot, pointless characters, horrific writing and so on. Here's some concept art I've made (though keep in mind that this would be a fanfic and not a web comic):
View attachment 34474 View attachment 34475 View attachment 34476


Thoughts and/or Suggestions?

 

[EI 903]

For a while, I've had this idea stuck in my head. Basically, the idea for a parody continuation of Sonichu. The plots will be written like they were thought up by Chris, but the story itself will directly parody Sonichu's lack of plot, pointless characters, horrific writing and so on. Here's some concept art I've made (though keep in mind that this would be a fanfic and not a web comic):
View attachment 34474 View attachment 34475 View attachment 34476


Thoughts and/or Suggestions?

You already made a thread about this. Don't spam your idea on multiple threads. Also, it's better to do something and ask for feedback than seek attention before starting.

 

[Betachu]

You already made a thread about this. Don't spam your idea on multiple threads. Also, it's better to do something and ask for feedback than seek attention before starting.

I'm sorry, I was just following a request from someone. If you'd like, I could delete the post altogether.

 

[Tranhuviya]

Paladin Stryker gazed over the battlefield, occasionally ducking down to dodge stray Enclave fire. All clear. The quality of the average Enclave footsoldier was getting to be less "elite super-soldier" than "some fucktard we handed Power Armor", something he thanked whatever gods there may be a thousand times over as he lay at night with the Holy Handgun.

The city of Kandahar Flats, Virginia. Home to the Tiberius project, one of the most insidious plots ever hatched. At the center of it all, one Ivan Komarov. Stryker shivered a moment as he realized the danger that lay here. Truly, these villains were homosexual and unrealistic. Stryker let loose the Machine. Mercy had no place in war. And in war, rationality was for the weak- a shackle to be broken. The Enclave were a roadbump to Komarov. And he was about to drive over it. He raised the holy Handgun and signaled to Knights Ramirez and Jenkins. The time had come.

"They said that one man with determination and lot of bullets is a god, Paladin. If so, you must be a mighty god. Distance to thy foul target is 1.3 miles away."

"Forsooth, for the Elder said that one bullet can change the course of history. Now..."

Stryker calculated ballistic drop, distance to target and factored in the benoulli effect within seconds. The target: Captain Khadr. He had taken hostages: ten Knights in a daring raid. He was about to meet death at the hands of the almighty Machine.

Stryker fired.