Ok, although this contains a sliver of a chapter and primarily an Author's Note,

I MUST inform you of the status of this Story.

I have a Shitload of OCs, so be patient, and review, as it makes Me update faster.

As of now, Any OC submitted will be cannon Fodder.

And PesciVespucci, I must inform you, your OC will certainly become one of the primary antagonists, but remember, The End is such a random thing.

You could end with a conquered Happy Treeland and romance, You could see all the people dying, You could even see the Authors returning to save the day.

Pesci, just wait and see. deadliving's mind is as cruel as a bad Naziwank Story. You never know how it will end up.

I'm just a Seaplane. :P

The Man stood proud and tall in Philadelphia's rainy streets. Under an umbrella, he handed out the very bane of his existence: Comics about a Hellish World and characters living in it. Most refused the wet paper, but some gave him a measly $2 for the comics. He smiled, thanked them, and went on peddling his wears.

He shivered in the frigid breeze sweeping rain across the city.

The only things he knew were The Comic, His Artwork, and Music. He rarely strayed from those things, being the only things whimsical enough to fulfill his disturbed mind. Romance turned up only failure for the man of Mixed race, and had fallen by the wayside.

Fanfiction was that way as well. His FF personna was deadliving, as he shall be called from now on.

His worlds never had the intelligence, wit, or originality of other fanfics, he wove together a myriad of mnemes, and produced part of the Superorganism we knew as 'HTF Fanfiction'. It lost many a parts, but like a good toy, it kept on working hard for it's survival. But like the slowly eroding tape of Biological History, The Collaboration of ideas working together became a mismash of stories, having only a few precious moments in the sun before dying. The stories were also quite terrible, I mean look at what you're reading.

The Supperorganism finally fell, leaving a disarray of an HTF Fanfic. OCs became trapped in the world, unable to return to their authors for help or guidance. When the Tiger General's son lead a Coup overthrowing the minimal government, he set up a segregation of the races. OCs became downtrodden, as industry was built upon their backs.

Deadliving knew well he had abandoned the Superorganism when it needed his support most. He was nursing a personal life at the time. He failed to update, and many took advantage to be reviewed. He never returned.

His cellphone vibrates. He picks it up and answers.

A Flashing light sends William realling, he opens his eyes to see Matthew L Saunders descending from on high.

William was shocked, as Matt Saunders was believed to be dead by all FF writers.

"We need you to return, gather the Authors and return." He says. Matthew Cradled the HTF Fanfics since it's infancy, and watched the destruction in horror. He ascended to the ranks of professional cartoonist soon after. Matt stares at the man's inability to look up at him.

Oh, God 'You are not Worthy' and all that bullshit. Just look at me."

"All right, sir." the Mixed utters.

"Go forth and revive my son."

"PigeonJesus?"

"HTF FANFICTION!"

deadliving falls to the ground again, awakening in Philadelphia. He drops the Comics, and runs to his house. He must get the Authors back together.

What do you think of an Author's conference in a later chapter?

Just review.

deadliving will return.

We leave you to your loneliness, little spawnfish.