I need some new Hermione-centric fanfics.
My attention was directed to this post. It looks like a pretty good explanation of what’s going on over at Fanfiction.net. OP posted her FF.net account at the bottom if anyone has any questions, or send them to her Tumblr.
Hello. As most of you avid FF readers may have figured out by now, fanfiction.net has been doing a mass purge of the site and getting rid of a lot of stories that break the rules. When one of my own stories was deleted and my account was suspended for three days, I figured it was just the site moderators going through and doing some kind of routine check. However, when I found out that more and more people were having their work deleted - in some cases, just because the summary was “inappropriate” - something told me I had to look into this. The facts about what’s really going on may surprise you.
The people in charge of this mass deletion of stories are not site moderators. They are normal users of the site like anyone else. If you go to their profiles, you’ll see that they even have work of their own. They call themselves Critics United and they basically have nothing better to do except sit around and comb through the site for any story that has some kind of minor infraction. They then post it on their forum (most seem to be on either this thread or this thread, also here) so that other members of the group can go en masse to the story and not only report it for violating the guidelines, but also bully the author via review.
It’s one thing to quietly report a story that you think has broken the rules without saying a word to the author about it. However, what these people are doing is bullying. Earlier today I screenshotted some of the reviews that they’ve been leaving on the stories they go after, and some of what they say is truly sickening.
These are only a few examples. If you browse through their forum you’ll be able to see just how intense they get. As you can see from the reviews I posted above, these people aren’t just “critics” - they are bullies. The “constructive criticism” they supposedly dole out is anything but - something tells me that true constructive critics would not use words like “shitfic” or “toxic crap.” And by posting the links to these stories in their forums, it enables everyone else in the group to go and bully these authors as well.
(Funny thing is, they complain when the authors respond to them with less-than-pleasant words. I wonder why.)
Anyway, I think something needs to be done. Critics United prides itself on being strict followers of the rules and site guidelines; however, they fail to notice that they themselves are also breaking an important rule - no bullying or harassment. Unfortunately I don’t think there’s an easy solution to this problem, seeing as there’s no way to report specific users - only block them. However, I dothink it is important for everyone to know exactly what is going on. I know a lot of people were upset by what’s been happening, and they deserve to know the truth.
If you have any questions please feel free to message me on here or on my fanfiction.net account. That’s all.
This reblog of the original post has more comments that you may or may not find useful.
If you publish explicit writring on FF.net—go over there and save your stories and comments. Now.
Yes, they’re purging. Two of mine with explicit words in the title or description were deleted without warning three days ago. Rumor has it they’ll now begin deleting if they deem the content of the story explicit.
Go save your stories and comments. Tumblr will be waiting when you get back.
A head’s up to all our writers out there. Don’t know the all the details but it’s better to be safe than sorry!
Reblogging for those that this may apply to. As the person above me said, it’s better to be safe than sorry.
“I’m thirsty,” Penny whined. She was pretty sure it was because all the moisture in her body was migrating somewhere other than her mouth. If Sheldon could ignore this, she could too. They’d compromised, his back against the door and hers leaning against one of the rods holding his entire closet in place. Their feet were a little tangled, but it was a huge improvement considering it was kind of difficult not to keep rubbing herself against him deliberately. “How long has it been now?”
His closet was surprisingly tiny, probably because he had huge organizational racks, drawers, shelves, and stands so everything had a place and all was neat and tidy in the world. There wasn’t much room for standing. After her horror and amusement wore off, she realized that she was being poked and prodded in multiple directions from hooks and belt buckles and whatnot.
“Penny! I’m in the closet!” the muffled voice returned.
That one was far too easy. “Well that answers that question,” she shouted back, jiggling the doorknob to Sheldon’s room. But no, he didn’t want her in there, and even though there was a possibility he was really stuck in a closet and this was an emergency, Penny was never one to pass up an opportunity to aggravate him.
“The reason my voice is muffled and roughened by lack of fresh air? Yes, my location does explain that,” he said slightly impatiently.
“No. Whether you like guys or girls.”
“Sexually,” she elaborated.
“I disdain both equally. I do not see the relevancy of that fact pertaining to present circumstances. Now let me out.”
“Now see, I would, Sheldon,” Penny said, widely smiling. “But your closet seems to be in your room, and people aren’t allowed in your room.”
Sheldon was silent and Penny could almost hear him gnashing his teeth. “I will make an exception this once.”
Yeah, Penny kind of loved April Fool’s day. Any day that gave her reason to be in Sheldon’s room without having to apply VapoRub to his scrawny chest was a good day. She had this thing for Sheldon’s room; it a perfect mixture of masculinity and proudly displayed collector’s items, a combination of man and boy, and part of her found it fascinating. She hadn’t been in a lot of men’s rooms, but she’d seen a fair number, and they rarely, rarely put their personalities out there for anyone to see.
Plus it smelled really, really clean.
She stood there for a moment, smiling slightly and turning in circles to take in as much as she could. He had some kind of sciencey-lego thing going on in one corner, a large hard-covered copy of A Song of Ice and Fire sat on his bedside table, and the glass of his window-pane was covered in wayward math scribbles.
“Penny!” Sheldon whined plaintively. “Asphyxiation is not a pleasant way to die.”
Her distracted state of snooping in his room was really the only explanation for what happened next, because of course it was a trap, otherwise why would Sheldon even be in his closet?
“Ok Sheldon,” she said, opening the door just as he said “and don’t forget to disengage the motorized—-“
That was all she heard, for the door snapped out of her grasp and with shocking force for wooden slats, slammed against her back and forced her into the closet. She landed against Sheldon’s chest, surprisingly solid for something that felt like delicate bird-bones beneath her hands when he was sick. Automatically, her arms came up around his shoulders to steady herself as her feet tangled in half the contents of his closet.
Shit. Crap. Shit. She should have known better. She opened her mouth to apologize, to ask him what they were going to do now, but all that came out was “Sheldon, why is the floor of your closet a mess? I expected better from you.”
“The floor of my closet is a mess,” he bit off with carefully emphasized words. Yeah, he was angry. “Because after the first hour in here I nested.”
“Well I’m soooorry, ok? I didn’t deliberately get myself trapped in here with you. That would give new meaning to the term April Fools’! I just didn’t see any traps, and you didn’t either or else you wouldn’t be in here either!”
“I wasn’t expecting there to be one. You, however, did not enter the situation blindly. You knew I was trapped in a closet, ergo, you should have been on the look-out for engineered booby traps.”
“I’m going to kill Howard,” Penny growled, turning to jerk at the doorknob. Every movement she made put her in contact with Sheldon, and jerking at doorknobs was kind of a full-body, all in the hips, motion. “Do you hear me you little sycophant sicko, I’m going to get my hands on your mock turtleneck, pull it up over your face, and smother you with it.”
“As delightful as your engagement with the English language usually is, I don’t believe he can hear us. I’m going to have to ask you to please desist from using up all the oxygen.”
“Sheldon, you’re not gonna die of lack of air. Your closet door has slats, it might be a little warm in here from our combined body heat, but we’re getting air.”
“Don’t compromise the air supply,” he hissed.
Penny took a deep breath.
She really shouldn’t.
It was too tempting. He was only bringing it on himself by throwing out terms like “air supply” and “blame” when none of this was her fault.
“I’m all out of love, I’m so lost without you
I know you were right believing for so long
I’m all out of love, what am I without yooooooooooou,” Penny warbled to a close, snickering too hard to continue.
Sheldon tensed, not finding that as amusing as she did.
That was pretty much the exact moment she realized he was looming behind her, her back was to his chest, and parts of her were fitted rather snugly against parts of him.
And yes, he was right, it was getting awfully hard to breathe. “Sheldon, how long have you been in here?”
“Three hours, twenty-four minutes, thirty-eight seconds and counting.”
He was right. They were both going to die.
This was a good one, guys,” Raj pointed out, cheese stringing from his mouth. “Less death all around. Adding Penny was a fantastic idea because she’s actually conditioned to do half this shit, and I feel like the next time I’m walking down a street and see some drunk lurching towards me and my heart skips a beat because I worry the zombie apocalypse is starting, it won’t be nearly as frightening.
Raj, chapter 11 of Apocalypse Week
(and possibly a follow)
wow. that Twilight fanfic is a nyt bestseller and scored more than a five mil movie deal.
wish my fanfiction would get game like that
For diewithstoriestotell who asked for:
Elevator, Yellow, and Muffins.
Apparently, I cannot write a drabble to save my life. This is more a fibble (fabble?).
She was balancing a bag full of muffins, the brown paper already soaked through with the cooking oil that did nothing to convince her there was anything remotely healthy in eating tiny individual cakes for breakfast. Of course, there wasn’t much real nutritional value in bacon or sausages either, so breakfast was kind of an evil meal. Health gurus said it was the most important, but have you ever tried to eat a fruit cup while on the go? No, it wasn’t happening.
Her other hand was laden with eight biodegradable cups of coffee, the weight of it pulling at her wrist, and making her edge carefully around the doors as they did an open/closed routine in front of her as she tried to get on the practically empty elevator. By the time she made it through, managing not to spill a single drop of coffee, she could see why. The douche in the elevator was holding the “close” button with his finger, but her foot being shoved in the way kept the sensors opening.
He scowled at her. She scowled at him.
“You’re the new science expert the writing department hired, aren’t you?” she asked, trying for bubbly and managing something that was more of a Chihuahua bark. He might not be full-time staff, but when you were an intern/aspiring actress, you never knew whether your next smile would be your last (before moving on up to a part-time writing position, or a role on the show) (or before being fired).
“Hired!” he snorted. “I was informed that my grant application would be revoked on my monopole research if I did not adhere to a few stipulations.”
“So you don’t want to be here,” Penny said, still smiling. Somehow. She practically had to murder her own grandmother for this position, and this douche couldn’t even appreciate what he was handed. “That’s unfortunate.”
“Community is not a science fiction,” he said with a delicate shudder. “There is no need for someone of my expertise. Clearly, any ninth grade physics teacher would have a good enough grasp on the subject matter to guide a room of chimpanzees masquerading as serious scriptwriters. It is no Doctor Who.”
Doctor who? she almost asked, but thought better of it. “Muffin?” she offered instead. “I have chocolate chip, blueberry, bran, and banana.”
“Bananas are good,” he chortled, as though he just said the funniest thing on the planet, but, surprise, surprise, he took the tower du cafe from her so she could rummage through the bag, and despite awkward limbs and thin arms, he didn’t seem to be having any trouble balancing them in his hand.
She also noticed… well, she did have a thing for forearms (and gentlemen who knew to take the heavy item and not go through greasy muffin bags themselves).
“Bananas are yellow,” she pointed out, unable to stop herself from smiling in return as she handed him one.
“They are also high in potassium and magnesium.”
“And they’re yummy,” Penny summed up.
“Indeed.” The doors opened, and she stepped out with a friendly (but automatic) ‘have a good day.’
Later, as Penny sat during her boring meeting, picking at the remains of her own banana muffin, she wondered how to time another two minute elevator ride with someone who seemed pretty keen on keeping the car completely to himself.
The next day she brought him his own muffin in a single-serving bag
The day after that she brought him banana bread.
On the fourth day she gave him a banana. Once he took it, she grinned and asked “Is that a banana in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?”
He responded with “I’m not unhappy to see you.”
She took that the only possible way it could be taken.
By day five she had his number. His phone number that is.
Penny was disappointed to find his building didn’t have a working elevator, only the rotting husk of one, and it air coming from it smelled a little stale and bitter. She knew because they made it as far as the second floor hallway before she had him pressed against it, back rigid against the metal door. He sniffed in distaste once at the barely discernible air quality, but otherwise had no complaints about his predicament.
It had to be love.
(I’m sorry about your shitty day D: )
Aw I love this! haha. This made me smile. Thank you!