fanfics?

[Wisemon]

Marine, if you've read my work, then you know that I've given warnings saying that I'm more of a poet than a novelist. A good poet tries to be concise. I get my morals, my humor, and my characterization across with as little fluff as possible, and that's my style. You have your own style, and certainly, some people prefer it. I have my reasons for not writing in your style. I have my reasons for disliking your style. You say that you've read every single chapter of mine, and I thank you for that, whether or not you like them. I, on the other hand, lack the patience to read all of your chapters. If it's terribly important to you, I'll pick apart the story you consider to be your best. For now, I'll just say that this is an awful way to start a Digimon fanfic series:

Shikran grimaced. His left leg still felt the fading pain from when the cement bulwark fell on top of it, bleeding from the walls sharpened edges that dug into his skin. Impressions from the metal grate that he was lying on became deeper, the steel bit through his delicate layer of skin into his raw muscle. Once again he tried to pry the bulwark off of his leg, his once clean and sharpened nails were broken, cracked beyond repair as he pushed with all of his strength. The weighed proved to be too heavy for him to lift, his arms collapsed back onto his ceremonial white robes in exhaustion.



Alone and nearly spent from trying to lift the bulwark, Shikran could only wait for his slow, painful death of time. Blood of his dead comrades in the military could be heard dripping from a nearby area, increasing his emotion of disconsolation. None of his brethren in the bridge survived the hellacious confrontation, only he remained alive because the bulwark had fallen on top of him at the right moment.

Herr Mullen, thanks for backing me up. You have one of the most unique styles of any writer. Despite my urges, I won't try to Americanize it.