Fanbase after Nine

by Stupid Satire or Serious Stuff

If one looked close enough at the moon of Skaa, past the neon and bright lights, one could see a sleazy city. Known for it's crime and bloodthirst, it is notorious for being a terrible part of every fandom. A young boy within this place must find the Core of Creativity, before all is lost within a paradox of void.

Fanbase after Nine.

Authors note: Just kicking off! Don't worry, I won't continually post 1 or 2 paragraphs. I will post larger parts of the story, but not take years on it.

If one looked close enough at the moon of Skaa, past the neon and bright lights, one could see a sleazy city. Filled to the brim with casinos, bars, and cheap motels, it is notorious for being the worst part of every fandom, ever. A distant cousin to Prospit and Derse, it is mostly a coal black color, besides the jade towers, holding the "Canons." Connected by a colossal metal wire, another smaller meteor is connected to it. Unlike it's counterpart, it is very sterile, filled with huge office buildings and printing presses. Between are peaceful ponds and small parks. Most fanfiction writers like to write here.

Somewhere on the largest of the two, along, winding boulevard, is a worn down apartment complex. A palm tree rose in one of the small open areas in the jumbled mess of small, claustrophobic housing. Many natives, neo-dersites and survivors of The Great Flamewar, live here. Cars fly past, never stopping for even a moments rest. Crows caw, and ruffle their feathers, sitting idly on a stoplight. Tepid water drips from roofs and hinges, aftershock of a recent storm.

A young man stands in his room.