stopnagginme

Prologue "Pretend your life is interesting; you go outside, you make friends, and you're happy. Your life is anything and everything the stereotypical person wants; plenty and perfect of friends, top of the school, perfect guy. Whatever. If you really want, you can be a secret serial killer. But just know I won't touch those parts of your life; that's very private, and something you probably wouldn't share with me, your best friend. Or at least I am for this fanfiction- er, fantas- um... story. Yes, story. I'm your best friend in this story. We've been friends since kindergarten, remember? No, probably not." The girl sighs. "Jade. Writing a p

Prologue "Eat it!" my mother screeched at my brothers. Stanley reached for the blue ball, looking eagerly at it. "Don't!" Daniel's voice rang across the house. "But I'm hungry!" Stanley complained. I could tell there was something wrong with my mother. She ate the souls, enjoying them far too much. Even I, at age five, could know this. I had a vague memory of her brutally murdering and then eating the soul of my father, too. "See?" my mother sneered, slapping Daniel in the face. "Your brother is hungry. You are too..." "I'm hungry for candy!" Daniel whined. "Not for this!" "Stop it!" I yelled, running into the room. "Don't do it, Stan

Zer0 the Meister and Lyrics the Weapon! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Two girls approached the DWMA with slight caution. It was a school where some of the people could turn into weapons! They had no idea what to expect. All the weapons couldn't be as laid-back as Lyrics, right? "So..." Zer0 said, breaking the silence between friends. "Here we are..." "Indeed..." Lyrics replied. "I can't help but wonder what kind of stuff we're going to learn here!" "I know, right?" Zer0 smiled at her friend. "So... Want to go check around?" "Alright!" The girls walked into the mouth of a door in the academy. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "Who are those girls?!" Maka Albarn

ThE mAnSiON WHerE NoNE ShOULd ENtER (Pt1) This game re-enacts actual events that happened to real girls. Do you still want to continue? Yes No Alright... Well, I won't take responsibility if you don't like the violence, blood and/or gore. Do you understand? Yes No Finally, any pictures that I may make from this, you are not allowed to steal them in any way. Okay? Yes No Alright, well... We'll start at the beginning, okay? You control Pokey. She's the black-haired one. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "Well," I said to my friend, "it looks like this is the end for me..." "No!" she exclaimed. "I'll fix you right up! With my

Parody of: ↑The Game of Life↓ Name: ↑The Game of Time↓ Language: English ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ <Intro> The first time I was here, I was too innocent... The second time 'round, I was more cautious. The third time came And I spent it in depression The fourth time, I spent most time around the piano. <Instrumental> The fifth time around, I told you everything, The sixth time here, I spent it not doing anything! My seventh the time Where I nearly lost all hope. And my eighth was when I considered not going back in time at all! A game played by the Devious devil... Seeing so many lifetimes pass... All seem

Prologue "Eat it!" my mother screeched at my brothers. Stanley reached for the blue ball, looking eagerly at it. "Don't!" Daniel's voice rang across the house. "But I'm hungry!" Stanley complained. I could tell there was something wrong with my mother. She ate the souls, enjoying them far too much. Even I, at age five, could know this. I had a vague memory of her brutally murdering and then eating the soul of my father, too. "See?" my mother sneered, slapping Daniel in the face. "Your brother is hungry. You are too..." "I'm hungry for candy!" Daniel whined. "Not for this!" "Stop it!" I yelled, running into the room. "Don't do it, Stan

Chapter 1: Alone With a Friend in the Cold, Cruel World ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "Maple!" a British accent floated to her, while doing the dishes. "Bring me something to eat!" "Why not try making it yourself?" I grumbled under my breath. "I'll put the kettle on..." I did so. "Maple!" my other caretaker's French accent hit me like a stone. "Don't dawdle, now, what happens when your brothers get home?" I'll explain. When I was little, my parent's house burnt down, and then I was placed with these two. 'These two' being Arthur Kirkland and Francis Bonnefoy. They've mistreated me and abused me ever since I could toddle, and they both have their own