The Tavern

Can we have a dedicated one, please?

Rules:
1- No rape.
2- Please revise the following:
http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/FanFic
3- No seriously, rape isn't funny.
4- No, this thread isn't serious.
5- If you can be a fan of it, you can write fiction about it (see rule #1).
6- Irreverence!
7-

"Oh, yes." Cerebov said diabolically, stroking his serpentine blade with consensual intimacy. "You Crawlers are certainly welcome to Shatter my private treasure hoard... but first you must taste my throbbing Fire Storm!"

Lamia slithered out of her barding gratefully, the cool rock of the Pits' walls soothing her sore muscles. How many orbs to kill a minotaur, these days? The Greater Naga Council had given her a respite from directing the clean-up, and in her private chambers below the Hall of the Caduceus she had dismissed the salamanders minding the coals under the stone floors. Now she could rest. Her armour followed, her venomous glaive already propped in the corner.

She had already drifted off to the cold damp sounds of the Pits rising above her when a flash of violet light on her eyelids brought her back to full awareness. She held her hands out, the pale swirling energy already gathering within its magical envelope.

"You wouldn't destroy your favorite pupil, would you my Queen?" said a voice Lamia hadn't heard in years. Its owner glided in accompanied by a puff of purple smoke, and Lamia let the energy dissipate with a fond grin. Vashnia had returned.

But who was this dangerous looking nagess? Lamia remembered guiding her to the lowest levels of the Dungeon, conducting the necessary transactions to reach Abyssal gateways safely, packing the meat rations and scrolls she would need to find her way through that confusing plane. That Vashnia had worn the gilded barding of her mothers, had kept her gorgeous hair up twisted around a wand of haste, a wand she had zapped at her mentor to goad her. At her lover to spur her to greater heights.

Lamia reached out her hand to brush Vashnia's cheek. Above the young warrior's eyes, a bandana held back wild tangles; below the smug smile, a snug dress made of some unidentifiable Abyssal creature's scales hugged her bosom. Lamia's hand wandered. "Your queen--"

"Lamia--"

The Queen of the Naga's hand found a fistful of hair. Lamia pulled Vashnia to her, drew her into a kiss, her body snaking around her subject's. "We do not intend," Lamia said against Vashnia's lips, "to listen to long tales of Abyssal training, of translocative lessons learned--"

"Lamia, list--"

"Of lessons learned by young marksnaga who should've been home--" Lamia felt a jolt in her stomach and gasped. She pulled back, her hands both falling away from Vashnia's neck to the crossbow in her pupil's hands, her lover's hands, her killer's.

"Lamia," Vashnia said, coiling herself around Lamia's back even as she fit another arrow against the crossbow's string. "As usual, too in a hurry to listen." Lamia coughed and Vashnia smiled at the spray of blood; her bandana's dye required constant attention. "Too in a hurry to notice your own dethroning."

Lamia could only take a halting breath in response. "Trog's Teat--" she managed.

"I did learn lessons, Lamia." The door to Lamia's chambers opened wider, a squad of marksnagas looking around the door. "Lessons at the hands of the ancient liches that built these halls. Do you know what they whispered in those dusty voices worn down by the ages?"

Lamia found herself searching Vashnia's hair, feeling for the wand that could save her, but she could hardly see the faces of the marksnagas gathering about her, couldn't feel their arrows sinking into her chest. That other Vashnia, such a pretty naga. With the bright knob of that quick wand flashing above her head.

The ruler's body slumped to the ground. Vashnia dropped her crossbow to adjust a strand of the golden hair framing her old lover's face. "The queen is dead," she said, moving the hair about. "Long live the queen."

>chilling in my house
>couple of friends come over
>bring weed and beer
>everyones having a good time
>notice one guy keeps staring at me
>I know he'd love to get his hands on me
>play it cool
>after a while he comes and sits next to me
>wonder what he'll say
>actually doesn't say much, just smiles
>after a few minutes he ends up taking me upstairs
>no one takes much notice
>we enter the bedroom
>closes door
>he sits on bed with me
>leans in towards my head
>but suddenly he grabs my neck
>get a bit scared and creeped out
>while he's grabbing my neck he slowly feels my body
>feels good as he strokes my curves
>next he bends me over his lap
>thought he was just being kinky so play along
>he lifts up my skirt
>plays with my g-string a bit
>but suddenly he goes to finger me without asking
>pretty scared but can't stop him
>doesn't feel good at first
>he's really rough
>after a bit of practice he stops hurting me
>starts to feel good
>so I start moaning
>I'm pretty loud
>he has to quieten me down
>suddenly hears a knock on door
>he jumps and drops me on the floor
>I bang my head
>another one of my friends enter
>he's wanted to get into me for a while
>I try to leave but he grabs me
>lays me on the bed
>they talk about who should go first
>then both take it in turns to finger me
>second friend is a lot better
>when they're finished I'm dripping in sweat
>wonder whats going to happen next
>someone shouts them from downstairs
>first guy picks me up and chucks me on floor
>hurts my body
>they leave
>I lay there for a while unable to move
>feel pretty upset
>an hour or two later I hear everyone leave
>then door opens
>another guy walks in
>picks me up and carrys me downstairs
>and puts me back in my stand
>for I am a guitar

Clearly there are still those to whom no means yes:

and it's not even a fanfic wtf

Rape and bad fiction seems to be a sure fire way to
A: Rile people up
B: Get this thread locked right the fuck now

Irreverence is encouraged. Semi-serious rape scenes, not so much.

I wrote a fan-fic about the catholic church.
Inspired by the following:
viewtopic.php?f=17&t=13540

Here's the story(?)
http://pastebin.com/qGpCWMdM

It's guitar fan fiction.

1. thats the joke
2. how is that mockery

how was that even "semi-" serious

like did you actually read it to the end or did you just get halfway and decide that NOW was the opportunity for you to prove yourself as truly the Wettest of Blankets

Whoa, whoa dude, I was not in any way referring to Duvessa's post.

It was more a wink to that shit thread that happened earlier, but I should've been more clear. My bad.

I know. I wasn't replying to you, rather, the dude who thought duvessa's post was semi-serious rape. I like you, you're fine.

Oh, well good.
Also your story is a work of true art.

I read every line of it. But many would not be able to do that because it hits too close to home. If you read it from the perspective of someone who may have lived through that kind of confused degradation, and that one final line is not at all worth the trip. Not even a little bit. Maybe you should think about that. It accurately portrays a gang rape, in all but the last "Oh, but look at how clever I am!" line.

You being its author would explain why you're defending it, but it wouldn't explain why you're name-calling someone who doesn't find humor in deliberately inflicted rape imagery.

That fact that any of this needs explaining is truly frightening.

Irreverence was encouraged and irreverence was received. You can't have your sanctimonious cake and eat it too.

On a significantly lighter note, here's a fan-fiction

A Cautionary Tale for Crawl Let’s Players: A Fan Fiction

“Hey guys.” I murmur, hoping beyond hope my inanimate computer screen will come to life, patting me on the back.

“Today, we’re gonna try a troll. I read on the wiki…” My words blur into oblivion. Will anyone watch this? Do they even care? Hell, do I even care?

“So as a troll I have claws, but have to eat a lot of meat and stuff.” A pit opened in my stomach. It was two days after my decaying, widowed grandmother’s birthday. I had forgotten to call her. What do I care? I am let’s playing. Surely grandma Shirley would understand, this is my future after all.

“Originally I was going to run a centaur named Fluttershy, my favorite MLP pony, but then I decided that trolls are more like...” It’s been at least 53 hours since I’ve last seen the outdoors, maybe this will be my last one. No. All I need is right here. Family, Friends, Food, Fucking, all right here. On Youtube.

“Oh, so this is Jessica, she’s really tough. I lost my HoMo to he-“ For one second of hideous clarity feedback runs through my headphones, sending a jolt of reality straight into my brain. My god. Was that my voice? Are these my hands? What is this game? It’s not even animated…

“Uh, sorry, guys. So anyway, yeah, Fluttershy is my favorite pony because she’s not afraid of…” I should check my thread. It’s been three weeks, I’ve seen traffic from there. I know they’re watching. Why don’t they like me? I like crawl, don’t they like crawl?

“… Better luck next time I guess. That’s it for today. Bye, guys.”

This will be the one. I know it. I’m not like those other let’s players, surely they see that.

"This time through the dungeon,” I type, “rats! Bats! And… Zombiez?!”
Yeah, I snicker to myself. This is the one.

Authors notes:
I really tried to understand the mind of a let’s player. Capturing the ephemeral brevity that is all of our lives. Crawl exemplifies this and so I think a Crawl let’s player is the perfect subject.

Also, I’m just ‘avin a laugh. I’m taking the piss out ov ya.
ello gov. ello govenah.

Cocksureness doesn't care that irreverence is also subject to irreverence.

FWIW, I read yours first and liked it. It was the other one that left a bad taste in my mouth. Don't understand why on earth you'd defend it. There is nothing sanctimonious about calling it what it is. There is however something akin to sanctimony in the mock outrage you are wearing.

On with the irreverence.

Irreverence this, irreverence that! What is this? Louis C.K.'s diary? Oi!

i invoke clauses four and five of the official rules, name myself a fan of rape, and will proceed to write fan-fiction about it.

your move autists

ftfy

the rules superceed each other in ascending order, rule 1 trumps all above it etc...