The SSSS Scriptorium

[wavewright62]

Back to the writing, now that InkTober is done.  I post my contribution for R in the Alphabet Challenge, although LooNEY_DAC and Lazy8 have long since left me in the dust, and in very grand style, too.  This one is called, "Rust."
http://archiveofourown.org/works/12625878

[Lazy8]

Here, have a creepy thing inspired by a creepy song.

The Voice and the Snake

[LooNEY_DAC]

And now, something I haven't touched since... um... January. Yeah... sorry about that.

Here it is anyway.

Sigrun’s Shenanigans
A “Stand Still. Stay Silent” fanfic
Part 4
Complete Links to Complete Links post
Prior part

Spoiler: The Chicken Outfit • show

I was posted to command the Chicken Outfit, once, to send a message to everybody that nobody gets away with bad stuff, no matter who they’re related to.

Now, you guys have to understand, Dalsnes has kind of a reputation in Norway, since we like putting our own spin on things instead of just doing it strictly by-the-book all the time. I mean, there’s a time for strict protocol, and there’s other times when you’ve just gotta wing it, y’know? Anyway, one of the things where we go our own way in Dalsnes is the Chicken Outfit.

The Chicken Outfit is where we send anybody that’s turned chicken—unless somebody outright died because of it: that’s when The Law steps in; but mostly our guys can get out of that kind of scrape without getting killed.

When you’re assigned to the Chicken Outfit, your ultimate aim is supposed to be to get out of it and back to your unit, and we have all sorts of things built into the Chicken Outfit to encourage that. Now, I know what all of you want to ask: how do I get out of this Chicken Outfit?

First, you have to earn the right not to wear the Chicken Outfit’s Chicken Outfit in the first place. So, to get out of the Chicken Outfit, you start by getting out of the Chicken Outfit. Now, if I were really pulling your chains, I’d try adding a third or even fourth level to that, but I have no clue how I’d pull it off, so you can rest assured I’m not. Not this time, anyway.

So, when you’re assigned to the Chicken Outfit, you’re issued a different uniform that is essentially a chicken costume, which you have to wear at all times, unless you’re bathing. Before you can go back to wearing a real uniform, you have to undergo a Trial of Bravery and not chicken out, while wearing the Chicken Outfit in the Chicken Outfit.

Anyway, once you’re out of the Chicken Outfit but in the Chicken Outfit, to get out of the Chicken Outfit, you need to stand not a few Outside Watches or take point on several raids, depending on what time of year it is. If you’re really unlucky, you could find yourself stuck in the Chicken Outfit all winter, which can get bad.

See, even when you’re… in normal uniform in the Chicken Outfit, you’re wearing a big ol’ insignia that everybody knows means you’re in the Chicken Outfit, which can make you a target for some people, though we have people on watchdog duty to make sure it doesn’t get out of hand. Unfortunately, we’ve had a few times that proved the wisdom of not letting anybody who actually caused somebody’s death into the Chicken Outfit, and that’s all I’ll say about that, thank you.

Now, commanding the Chicken Outfit is different from being in the Chicken Outfit; officers who turn chicken get busted back into the ranks and then dropped into the Chicken Outfit. But somebody has to lead an outfit, even the Chicken Outfit, and it’s considered a slap in the face to be that leader, but even there, I showed that I was the most best.

You see, the real purpose of the Chicken Outfit is to try to get the chicken out of them before it can do any harm, either to others or to themselves; that’s why we have the Trials and such set up like we do, so a young fool can’t get himself killed trying to get out.

Of course, some never get out, but we try to weed out that type before they ever get into a combat unit in the first place.

And speaking of weeding out, that reminds me of another story…

Spoiler: Authorial Notes • show

I don’t care if the Chicken Outfit puns don’t work in Norwegian. So there.

[Lazy8]

Here's a short thing, and relatively non-grim for once.

The Wayfarer

[LooNEY_DAC]

Tall Ships & Taller Tales
A “Stand Still. Stay Silent”/Pirate crossover fanfic
Part 6
Complete Links to Complete Links post
Prior part

Spoiler: By the Marque • show

Sigrun Eide, proud captain of the mighty pirate, erm, privateer ship Sea-Lynx, terror of the Caribbean and (more recently) of the Mediterranean, smiled as the flotilla deployed around the Sea-Lynx. This would be fun.

The Ottomans had laid their trap well, but they were up against the Sea-Lynx, with Tuuri Hotakainen at the helm, Emil Västerström at the guns, and Sigrun herself still firmly in command, despite a recently mauled arm. Sigrun wondered briefly if they should deliberately leave any of their foes free to flee and carry the tale of their epic defeat to the Grand Turk, but decided to let the chips fall where they may in that.

As Tuuri wheeled the ship in an impossible turn (despite the bulk of their Mediterranean loot weighing her down), Emil let off a barrage of his latest mix. Each shot was a hit that crippled its chosen target, wiping seven of their adversaries away at the outset.

The Ottoman ships were trying to bring their own guns to bear, but the maneuver had put them all out of place, and the loss of a third of their ships in that first blow had shaken them badly, even as it stirred them to fierce anger. They were all still battle-hardened sailors in the service of the Grand Turk rather than mercenary rats merely fighting to line their own pockets, so the remaining Ottoman ships plunged gallantly into the developing maelstrom.

Ten minutes later, it was over. The only Ottoman ships remaining afloat had been reduced to battered hulks incapable of further combat. Perhaps there were survivors on them; Sigrun didn’t particularly care. The Sea-Lynx had taken only minor damage, and no casualties to speak of, and that was what mattered.

“Resume course to Water Island,” Sigrun told Tuuri before going below. Her arm was itching and aching again; she’d have to have her first mate, Mister Mikkel Madsen, who was also the ship’s doctor, look at it for her, and maybe change the dressing.

*

The message waiting for them in the usual drop-off spot requested their presence in Trinidad, the last of the Windward Islands and a known haven for smugglers, privateers and out-and-out pirates, on a certain day and in a certain place, so after adding the usual share of their Mediterranean loot to the stash, Sigrun had Tuuri make for that island, though the crew grumbled a bit at not being allowed to browse their usual watering holes in the Bahamas first.

The… spot where the Sea-Lynx found anchorage was not much more than a mud hut or two and a bunch of tents that periodically burst into activity like a blooming flower when a ship came to call; Sigrun could easily see why the locals wouldn’t ask too many questions about the source of the gold flowing their way. It bore the absurdly grand name of “the Port of Spain”, which contrasted sharply with its sorry state.

Almost before Sigrun had had the chance to form this despective opinion of the little fortlet, she was hit with a rather nasty surprise: Trond himself had come out to this backwater of backwaters to personally meet with her. Some intense consultation with Mister Mikkel followed; but the meeting could not be avoided, and so Sigrun went…

Spoiler: Authorial Notes • show

Tortuga wasn’t settled by the Brits & the French until 15ish years after this story takes place, so it more or less had to be Trinidad.

[Róisín]

Good one! I had been waiting for an update of this. And awww, I wanted to see your take on Tortuga!

[Windfighter]

I wrote a short story! It was written as an answer to an ask over at tumblr and I hope it's tame enough to be allowed to post here, otherwise just yell at me and I'll remove it again!

Spoiler: Talking to yourself means you are crazy • show

   If you die, I'm gonna kill you.
   Emil sighed at the voice in his head, stopped for a moment's rest and looked at the sky. It wasn't raining, so that was good. He glanced in Lalli's direction. The scout was still unconscious and he sat down next to him.
   ”I wish you were awake. So I could hear your voice for real. Instead of just as an echo in my imagination.”
   Stop being pathetic and get moving.
   ”I know I need to keep moving, but I just...”
   Emil didn't really know what he was going to say.
   ”I just really... I've never...”
   He looked at the sky again. The sun danced across his face. Spring, the most romantic season, and he was stuck out in the silent world with an unconscious scout. Not that he would have done anything special at home either.
   ”I've never really had to make decisions on my own before.”
   It's easy, you decide on something and stick to it.
   ”But how do I know it's the right thing?”
   You don't. Stop being stupid.
   ”How is that even remotely stupid?”
   No answer. Emil let out another sigh.
   ”You will wake up again, won't you? I don't want anyone else to die... I don't...”
   Emil took a shaky breath, clenched his hands and looked back towards the small town they had just come from.
   ”I don't want you to die.”
   Just be careful with my body.
   ”I'm doing my best.”
   Emil looked at Lalli again, at the sun dancing across his face. Lalli looked peaceful, at ease, relaxed. If only there was something he could do to make Lalli look like that when he was awake as well. He pulled his fingers through Lalli's hair, corrected the strands that had gotten ruffled by the wind and the movement from the rug.
   ”I...”
   He couldn't say it. Even though Lalli was sleeping and wouldn't hear him he couldn't say the words. It wasn't time for them now. It would never be.
   ”You're my best friend, you know. My only friend.”
   Emil sighed again, then got up from the ground and grabbed the improvised sled he had placed Lalli on. It was time to stop being pathetic, like Lalli's voice in his head told him, and get going to find the others.
   ”Please don't die, Lalli. If you die, I'm gonna kill you.”

[Grade E cat]

Don't worry, this looks perfectly acceptable for the normal board to me. And from checking on the other ff.net stories while waiting for my own stuff to go live, I can tell many of the stories in which you don't actually kill someone are, in case you're wondering.

[Róisín]

Nice one, Windy!

[Windfighter]

Most of those other stories are more than 1000 words though and therefore not allowed to be copied in here and I don't want to link them because if I do it's even easier to stumble over those of my fics that are not good for this board and I don't want any more people getting upset/hurt because I put links here

[Grade E cat]

I did notice you having issues with your stories a while back, but hadn't really caught onto the fact that one of them could be people reading the fairly innocent ones, then getting to the more adult one while looking for more of your work. I understand the situation a little more clearly now.

[Lazy8]

Not a whole lot to say here. Guilt. Lots and lots of guilt.

The X Aspect

[LooNEY_DAC]

And here's more updates of stuff nobody wanted to read!

Bits and Bots
A “Stand Still. Stay Silent”/“WALL-E” crossover fanfic
Part 3
Complete Links to Complete Links post
Prior part

Spoiler: Wascally Wobots • show

There had been no warning of what was about to happen, but LALL-E somehow had known anyway. Even as EM-L attempted to defend itself, it registered and recorded that fact for future analysis, assuming it survived to analyze anything.

)Opponent designation:
Gargantuan
Intermingled
Assembly of
Networked
Technology

The very sight of the GIANT was horrible to a bot like EM-L, even though EM-L was immune to the cRash virus that had created it. The GIANT was a hideous, seemingly purposeless amalgamation of bots and random junk thrown together as though by a WALL-R gone mad; but its randomness was only a charade, quickly cast aside once the GIANT turned its attention to potential prey. A GIANT was optimized for one purpose: destruction of any bots unwary enough to come within its range.

Now, EM-L and LALL-E were both in this GIANT’s range, and EM-L’s ammo was dangerously low again…

*

EM-L had logged into the comm system so that it could give a better, more comprehensive and conclusive report on the GREMLINs, and had decided to see if it could find out a little more about the additional facilities TUUR-E had implied that both LALL-E and REYN-R possessed.

}Available data on extended capacities of units designated REYN-R and LALL-E:
Program:
Military
Assistant
Generic
Improvement
Capability

Type I:
N - [CLASSIFIED]
O - [CLASSIFIED]
I - [CLASSIFIED]
T - [CLASSIFIED]
A - [CLASSIFIED]

Type II:
S - [CLASSIFIED]
E - [CLASSIFIED]
I - [CLASSIFIED]
D - [CLASSIFIED]
U - [CLASSIFIED]
R - [CLASSIFIED]

EM-L was confused. Was the system reacting to EM-L’s old level of access from when EM-L was a simple nursery bot? If not, why would the system still say EM-L’s access level was too low to unmask the data when EM-L obviously had a need to know at least the very basics of what this MAGIC was and how it would affect LALL-E and REYN-R?

]DON’T LET IT GET YOU DOWN, EM-L! EID-E’s “voice” was almost at OLS-N intensity. ]SO WHAT IF SOME DATA-PUSHER THINKS YOU DON’T HAVE THE STUFF? THEY NEVER DO, EVEN IF THE EVIDENCE IS SHOVED IN THEIR OPTICAL DETECTION ARRAY!

)Do you possess any relevant information on this… MAGIC stuff?

]NAAAAH. I’VE WORKED WITH A FEW UNITS IN THE PROGRAM, AND SEEN SOME INTERESTING STUFF, BUT ALL I KNOW IS WHAT MY SENSORS RECORDED AND WHAT I COULD DEDUCE FROM THAT. I SUGGEST THAT YOU KEEP YOUR SENSORS ACTIVE AND YOUR WRITE-PROTECT OFF.

The advice seemed sensible enough, though EM-L wasn’t sure it needed to remove the write-protect from all of its files.

*

EM-L was facing permanent cessation of function, and was most unhappy. It was also quite distressed at the thought that LALL-E would join it in permanent cessation of function as well. EM-L wondered briefly if shutting down its optical array would make the overall deactivation less unpleasant, but decided it would not; thus, EM-L witnessed what happened next.

LALL-E unfolded like an origami creation, exposing some oddly humped emitter that activated with a loud BUZZZZZZZ. EM-L’s sensors could detect no emissions, but the effect upon the GIANT was sudden and enormous. In almost no time (1.3751 +/-0.0107 x 10^27 planck units, according to EM-L’s internal clock), the GIANT lost all cohesion and interconnectivity, raining down on EM-L and LALL-E as disparate components which were deflected by a different emission from the emitter.

As soon as the shower of parts stopped, LALL-E folded itself back into a familiar form—but EM-L was horrified anew to realize that LALL-E was now in the form that it used when it needed to recharge…

Spoiler: Authorial Notes • show

So, after nine-ish months of being blocked on this, it’s back.

Hopefully, you’ll enjoy what’s coming.

[Róisín]

Excellent take on this. And great acronyms.

[Gaemmel]

Hey everyone, I managed to write something again! It was actually meant for Halloween, so it's a little spoopy story for the Song Challenge.
Congrats on the others (soon) crossing the finish line, by the way! I wish I had that much time and creativitiy on my hands to be that fast.

http://archiveofourown.org/works/9629999/chapters/28938363