Author Topic: The SSSS Scriptorium  (Read 778702 times)

wavewright62

  • Valkyrie
  • Admiral of a Sunken Ship
  • *
    • Tumblr
  • Preferred pronouns: she/her
  • Posts: 4985
Re: The SSSS Scriptorium
« Reply #3060 on: March 25, 2017, 05:33:57 AM »
I too have been writing.  I present my contribution for the letter F, "Fortune."
http://archiveofourown.org/works/10435884

Mikkel sits in the auction room in Rønne, waiting for the book auctions to begin.
Always a newbie at something
Native speaker: :us:
Acquired: :nz:
Grew up speaking but now very rusty: :ee:


Ruler of Queenstown Airport (Thanks Purple Wyrm, I will wear my wings with pride)
Admiral of the Sunken Rainbow Warrior

Lazy8

  • Admiral of a Sunken Ship
  • ******
    • DeviantArt
  • Preferred pronouns: Name only
  • Posts: 2999
Re: The SSSS Scriptorium
« Reply #3061 on: March 25, 2017, 09:27:45 PM »
That was one of those ones where you have to go back and read it again after the reveal, this time thinking 'Oooooooh, that's what that was.'
:usa: native
:spain: comes back in an emergency
:vaticancity: rusty
:china: can usually manage to order food
:norway: can hold a basic conversation

:chap5: | :book2: | :book3: | :chap17: :chap18:

LooNEY_DAC

  • Ruler of a Derelict Airport
  • *****
    • DeviantArt
  • Posts: 1247
Re: The SSSS Scriptorium
« Reply #3062 on: March 26, 2017, 12:05:35 AM »
I'm sorry this is so late.

Buteo

  • Ranger
  • ****
  • Posts: 755
Re: The SSSS Scriptorium
« Reply #3063 on: March 26, 2017, 01:16:55 AM »
Much better late than never, LooNEY!

Lazy8

  • Admiral of a Sunken Ship
  • ******
    • DeviantArt
  • Preferred pronouns: Name only
  • Posts: 2999
Re: The SSSS Scriptorium
« Reply #3064 on: March 26, 2017, 10:16:43 AM »
HiI'mbringingbacktransEmilbye

Step It Out Mary

(Please note that the song carries some warnings as well for forced marriage, suicide, and some extremely creepy dialogue of the father toward his daughter.)

:usa: native
:spain: comes back in an emergency
:vaticancity: rusty
:china: can usually manage to order food
:norway: can hold a basic conversation

:chap5: | :book2: | :book3: | :chap17: :chap18:

Grade E cat

  • Ranger
  • ****
  • Headcanon firing in 3... 2... 1...
  • Preferred pronouns: her
  • Posts: 903
Re: The SSSS Scriptorium
« Reply #3065 on: March 26, 2017, 10:26:11 AM »
Since I only gave you guys only a short prologue on Friday and I'm already on the thing's fifth chapter on the writing side, I think I can afford to post the first actual chapter now.

Three for the price of one: Chapter 1

For those who remember the original forum post: one of the ways the story diverged from LooNEY_DAC's initial idea will be quite visible, and the common ground doesn't really show up before the end of Chapter 2.
Native: :fr:
So much part of my life it might as well be native: :us:
Few and far between practice opportunities: :es:
A little learned during hardcore anime fan phase: :jp:
Only alternative to English in early junior high school: :de:

Do what cat. Lalli's way of life since age three.

Lazy8

  • Admiral of a Sunken Ship
  • ******
    • DeviantArt
  • Preferred pronouns: Name only
  • Posts: 2999
Re: The SSSS Scriptorium
« Reply #3066 on: March 28, 2017, 10:28:01 AM »
A Midwest AU? Why not?

Take It Easy

:usa: native
:spain: comes back in an emergency
:vaticancity: rusty
:china: can usually manage to order food
:norway: can hold a basic conversation

:chap5: | :book2: | :book3: | :chap17: :chap18:

LooNEY_DAC

  • Ruler of a Derelict Airport
  • *****
    • DeviantArt
  • Posts: 1247
Re: The SSSS Scriptorium
« Reply #3067 on: March 29, 2017, 02:39:26 AM »
And out of the depths of my LooNEY brain--another double update.

Alphabet Soup
A “Stand Still. Stay Silent” fanfic collection
Series 2, Part 5
Complete Links to Complete Links post
Spoiler: Entranced • show
The calico kitten pattered its way through the ash-filled battlefield to the thin figure of the quiet Finn. At least this human wouldn’t yell at her. She greeted him with a soft “Prh” before moving to rub herself against his legs.

At her greeting, Lalli grumbled, “...Stupid useless thing.” Then, moving like a tired old man, he reached down and picked the kitten up, holding her but a moment before plunging his face into her neck in silent weeping.

Lalli Pesky-Door blinked and shook himself. What on earth had that been? He looked at the others.

The bitter taste of failure filled Sigrun’s mouth, and in a futile attempt to spit it out, she let her tongue lash out at all nearby. Blasted mutinist medic had to keep reminding her how she’d failed to protect her own by letting herself be hobbled by her injuries; blasted little Swede had to be right about standing up to her when she tried to bluster her way into taking over his job; blasted cat had to run away from her leader!

Sigrun of the Folk of Haleth was staring at nothing; were she anyone else, Lalli would have thought her near tears.

Reynir felt grief clogging his throat until he nearly couldn’t breathe. It was all his fault: if he hadn’t hidden in the tuna crate, Sigrun wouldn’t have been injured, so the troll wouldn’t have gotten by her, and Tuuri would be alright. This basic truth--that he was useless at best, and the cause of someone’s death at worst--just kept gnawing at him during the endless stretches when he had time to think. Helplessness and a crushing regret filled the void the gnawing left in its wake.

He spent most of the last stretch almost upside-down against the bunks. He’d heard such a position could be fatal if held too long; he wasn’t sure if that was what he was hoping for from it or not.

Reynir knew what he was experiencing was an illusion, but down beneath the superficial means of his experiencing was a fundamental feeling of reality to the whole. It was as though what he was experiencing was in fact real, just not in the here-and-now; so more a vision than an illusion.

Mikkel scanned the roiling surface for any sign of a red head about to breach, the last few times it had and the sjødraug’s near-instant and smothering response replaying gloomily in his mind. Sigrun had sounded like she didn’t expect to prevail in this battle; had she been right, or was there any hope left?

Emil watched the forest burn from afar, the knowledge that his fellows thought him unworthy to join them eating at him like the acid in a fuse. He had expected to find an acceptance in the Cleansers that had been lacking in the public schools; instead, he had found more of the same snide put-downs, arcane social structures and judgmentalism that had been his lot to be on the receiving end of since his family’s fall from grace. It would never end, then; he had been summed up and comprehensively rejected by what was supposed to have been the most accepting group in Sweden, so what hope was there for him now?

Tuuri had never expected to feel quite like this about maybe being infected.

What was the most unexpected but truly unbearable part was the not actually knowing while having to expect the worst: it meant every little twinge, itch, cough or sneeze brought a stab of fear with it, as did every time her mind wandered. Any of these could be a sign of her swift and excruciating doom from the uncaring Illness.

Signs or no, there was no hope left for her.

The Wizard was nowhere to be seen.

Lalli reached down deep into himself and pulled out a prayer to the Valar, dragging to his lips and spewing it forth line by line through the clogging enchantment.

“Sweet Nienna,
Lift this burden!
Bring relief from griefs unearnéd!

“Now are found your children bound in
Heavy coils that spoil all joy-gifts

“Break us free from fiends and evils
And their shameful aims turn to naught!”

Lalli’s eyes were squeezed shut as he sent his entreaty into the True West...


Spoiler: Authorial Notes • show
And here’s some more Tolkien pastiche.

The whump will continue soon.


+
Alphabet Soup
A “Stand Still. Stay Silent” fanfic collection
Series 3, Part 5
Spoiler: The Easy Way • show
“Why does the so-called ‘easy way’ always involved me getting slugged?” Emil asked with a hint of justifiable petulance. Waking up with your head still ringing from being knocked out tends to annoy even the most affable.

“Your whining attracts too much trouble,” Lalli opined in his garbled Swedish. It had been a priority for the little band of survivors to start learning each others’ languages as they made their way towards Keuruu, but so far Lalli was only making progress in Swedish, Icelandic still eluding him. This put him ahead of the other monoglots, though; Reynir more or less only knew his name, while Emil could write (but not speak--he never managed more than one syllable before his mind went blank) basic Finnish sentences.

Sometimes, whether intentionally or not, someone will find the exact worst possible thing to say and say it. Lalli would later swear that he saw something break behind Emil’s eyes.

The Swede stiffened and quietly told Sigrun, “That will not be a problem henceforth.” Then, and without another word to anyone, he walked around behind their vehicle to check on the horses.

They had found some horses still alive in the debris of the camp, which had posed a bit of a quandary until Emil rather reluctantly let it be known that he was quite experienced in farriery and other equine care, and that the vehicle was slow enough that the horses would do just fine hitched to its rear bumper. Every so often, either Sigrun or more often Emil would unhitch one and gallop ahead and back until it tired, at which point the other would have its turn for exercising.

Unease filled Lalli, though he wasn’t quite sure why.

*

Two days later, Emil had not spoken one word unless directly addressed, and even then, he gave the briefest possible response. Mostly, he spent his time looking after the horses, letting Lalli and Sigrun take the patrols he’d formerly requested so eagerly.

Lalli knew that this had everything to do with what he’d seen in Emil’s eyes, and no one had to tell him what he had to to next; it being his fault, it necessarily fell to him to fix it.

So it was that on the third morning, once the decontamination was done and the report given, Lalli staved off the ravening fangs of the sleep-monster and circled around the vehicle to find Emil already checking over the horses before tying them to the rear bumper.

Lalli knew the moment Emil realized he was there, but the sparkly-haired Swede just kept working. “Emil...”

Without turning his head, Emil told Lalli pointedly, “You had best leave before the trouble my whining attracts comes down on you, too.”

“It was a joke,” Lalli protested feebly. Suddenly, he wasn’t sleepy anymore.

“You don’t make jokes. You say true but hurtful things and laugh at the hurt they cause.” Emil paused. “So laugh already.”

“I did not think that my words you would be hurting this many.” Something about Emil’s obvious pain clawed at Lalli.

“Do you know why I’m so good with horses?” Emil asked, as though Lalli hadn’t spoken. “That’s all they ever let me do, back in Sweden, outside of training. ‘Västerström, stay in camp with the horses! Maybe that way you’ll have time to get better at field-stripping your weapons!’” He paused. “I am very good at taking care of horses.” Another pause. “So, when they asked for volunteers to go to Finland, I thought that I’d finally have a chance to prove that I could be useful; that I could do something other than... take care of the horses.”

“You make good burn in last fight,” Lalli said. “You were very useful.”

Emil scoffed. “So useful you needed to club me.” He turned to face Lalli; his face was wreathed in gloom.

“Not my idea; not my doing. I just tried stupid joke; wish I hadn’t. Emil, I’m sorry.”

“It was me,” Sigrun said, making both boys jump. “You were so caught up in flaming the grosslings that I couldn’t get you to disengage and join the retreat, so I slugged you.” She scratched the back of her head. “I’ll try something different next time.” With an unwontedly solemn expression, she concluded, “You have the trust and respect of your captain when in battle, Emil. Never doubt that.”

“Mine also.” Lalli tried to put in his tone all the things he couldn’t find the words to say.

Ever so slowly, the gloom retreated from Emil’s countenance...


Spoiler: Authorial Notes • show
And more whump, though not in the same AU.

ETA: This is in the "Deus Ex Mikkeli" AU.
« Last Edit: April 01, 2017, 01:36:41 PM by LooNEY_DAC »

Grade E cat

  • Ranger
  • ****
  • Headcanon firing in 3... 2... 1...
  • Preferred pronouns: her
  • Posts: 903
Re: The SSSS Scriptorium
« Reply #3068 on: March 29, 2017, 04:19:20 PM »
And here's the second chapter of my trollified version of the dead and recreated Onni and Tuuri AU:

Three for the price of one: Chapter 2

Emil and Mikkel may have virtually zero time doubting the existence of magic in this one...
Native: :fr:
So much part of my life it might as well be native: :us:
Few and far between practice opportunities: :es:
A little learned during hardcore anime fan phase: :jp:
Only alternative to English in early junior high school: :de:

Do what cat. Lalli's way of life since age three.

Lazy8

  • Admiral of a Sunken Ship
  • ******
    • DeviantArt
  • Preferred pronouns: Name only
  • Posts: 2999
Re: The SSSS Scriptorium
« Reply #3069 on: March 30, 2017, 10:10:22 AM »
Yeah, this happened.

Undo It

:usa: native
:spain: comes back in an emergency
:vaticancity: rusty
:china: can usually manage to order food
:norway: can hold a basic conversation

:chap5: | :book2: | :book3: | :chap17: :chap18:

LooNEY_DAC

  • Ruler of a Derelict Airport
  • *****
    • DeviantArt
  • Posts: 1247
Re: The SSSS Scriptorium
« Reply #3070 on: March 30, 2017, 11:19:31 PM »
Alphabet Soup
A “Stand Still. Stay Silent” fanfic collection
Series 1, Part 6
Complete Links to Complete Links post
Spoiler: A Far-Off Light • show
On a clear enough day, if you looked hard enough, you could see it: the light of the automated beacon warning ships off from the dangerous shoals near where the Old Village was, still functioning somehow after the world that had brought it into being had ended. That was the worst part of it: that which had been lost was just so tantalizingly close at hand, and so the whisper echoed in every ear, “Why not?” Even those most stubbornly against yearning over what could not be had found themselves softening at the sight of Home-That-Was.

The beasties and the gnarlies never showed themselves to those wistfully gazing across the warding waves; perhaps even that reminder wouldn’t have dispelled the homeward yearning, though.

Eventually, when the babes born on the island had grown to youths, the longing grew too much for some of the men, and they went forth.

None of them returned, of course.

The youths became adults, and had babes of their own; in time, their babes became youths, and some of the men ventured forth once more. Again, none returned.

Before the next youths could come to adulthood, though, the Norwegians came.

The Norwegians had come before, long, long ago, bringing fire and the sword and leaving death and squalor in their wake; the Norwegians who came now brought the light of hope instead, and the promise of fellowship and a new life in a new land.

The debate was long and bitter, even though the outcome was known as soon as the Norwegians had made their offer. Still, there was a debate, with not a few of the youths arguing that when they came to adulthood they would succeed where their fathers and grandfathers had failed.

The elders shook their heads at the folly of youth, and when the votes were tallied, the eldest, Old Man MacMurray by name, read out the result: the village was to go to Norway.

Before they left, though, every one of them walked over to try to see the light, if they could. A fog rose up, though, and none could catch even a glimpse of it.

Perhaps it was best that way.

The whole group fit on the one Norwegian ship that had come, but just barely. The sailors didn’t like the crowded deck, but the ship’s mage assured them that the wards would hold against the sea-beasts.

Some of the elders tried to cheer the youths by suggesting that this would be a quick sojourn in just another temporary resting stop, but Old Man MacMurray spoke from the bow of the ship.

“Let us be honest, if nothing else: none of us will ever see that place again.”

The rest of the trip to Norway was silent; the sailors were pleased about that, at least.

The island stayed clear of what the Norwegians called “grosslings”, as there was nothing left there that would attract them.

The beacon burned on. You could still see it, if the day was clear enough and you looked hard enough...


Spoiler: Authorial Notes • show
And there’s a tale of a few hardy Scots.

Buteo

  • Ranger
  • ****
  • Posts: 755
Re: The SSSS Scriptorium
« Reply #3071 on: March 30, 2017, 11:42:51 PM »
Cue 'Va, Pensiero,' with a braid Scots accent....

Nice, LooNEY.

Róisín

  • Elder of the Ruined Realm
  • ********
  • Posts: 8635
Re: The SSSS Scriptorium
« Reply #3072 on: March 31, 2017, 12:16:40 AM »
Nice one, LooNEY., subtly sad.
Avatar is courtesy of the amazing Haiz!

Grade E cat

  • Ranger
  • ****
  • Headcanon firing in 3... 2... 1...
  • Preferred pronouns: her
  • Posts: 903
Re: The SSSS Scriptorium
« Reply #3073 on: March 31, 2017, 02:17:39 PM »
Mikkel's efforts to feed Lalli, my knowledge of the existence of the How to give a pill to a cat piece and everyone's general tendency to treat Lalli as a cat came together and created a little writing piece. It's not quite fanfiction, but definitely SSSS-related writing.

Spoiler: How to feed a cookie to a scout • show

1. Be present when scout is about to go to sleep, wait for him to yawn, and put the cookie into his mouth.
2. Delicately untangle scout’s hand from confined stowaway’s braid. Calm stowaway down and realize that scout has fallen asleep while you were doing that.
3. Enlist help of mechanic while scout is sleeping. Once scout is awake, have her start a conversation with him. Let a few exchanges happen before trying to feed scout the cookie while he is talking.
4. Make sure that mechanic’s breathing mask isn’t damaged, then have her check the radio antenna once scout has climbed down from it.
5. “Accidentally” mess up cleanser’s hair while he is in scout’s field of vision. Wait for scout’s cleanser hair straightening instincts to kick in. Insert cookie during frustration sigh.
6. Reassure cleanser on the time it will take for that clump of hair to grow back. If cleanser notices that you deliberately gave a very low estimate, take the stowaway hair that ended up on your sleeve earlier and display its full length to cleanser to give him a little perspective.
7. Enlist captain’s help. Wait an hour after she has laughed at you, claimed she will have it done in five minutes and taken the cookie from you hand.
8. Locate captain, treat her bump and sew the sleeve back to the rest of her uniform jacket. Tell her she can’t eat the cookie, watch her do so anyway.
9. Fall asleep ten minutes before scout finally decides to come out from under the tank.
Native: :fr:
So much part of my life it might as well be native: :us:
Few and far between practice opportunities: :es:
A little learned during hardcore anime fan phase: :jp:
Only alternative to English in early junior high school: :de:

Do what cat. Lalli's way of life since age three.

Abprallen

  • Scout
  • ***
    • Tumblr
  • The Frenchiest of Fries
  • Posts: 426
Re: The SSSS Scriptorium
« Reply #3074 on: March 31, 2017, 04:57:05 PM »
Mikkel's efforts to feed Lalli, my knowledge of the existence of the How to give a pill to a cat piece and everyone's general tendency to treat Lalli as a cat came together and created a little writing piece. It's not quite fanfiction, but definitely SSSS-related writing.

Cute!