Author Topic: The SSSS Scriptorium  (Read 900979 times)

Lazy8

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Re: The SSSS Scriptorium
« Reply #3390 on: October 09, 2017, 07:07:10 AM »
Alphabet Soup
A “Stand Still. Stay Silent” fanfic collection
Series 2, Part 19

Oh dear. Extremes. Maybe we should introduce a character named "Happy Medium"?
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LooNEY_DAC

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Re: The SSSS Scriptorium
« Reply #3391 on: October 09, 2017, 07:26:05 AM »
Oh dear. Extremes. Maybe we should introduce a character named "Happy Medium"?
But then I couldn't beat him up--you know how difficult it is for anyone to strike a Happy Medium!

Besides, they're pretty thin on the ground: I don't know about you, but I like my Mediums rare.

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Róisín

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Re: The SSSS Scriptorium
« Reply #3392 on: October 09, 2017, 09:11:50 AM »
Not that rare! All you need is a bunch of psychics and a bottle of whiskey for each of them.
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Talimee

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Re: The SSSS Scriptorium
« Reply #3393 on: October 09, 2017, 07:12:31 PM »
I fancy the thought that writing anything in my current state of writer's block is like giving birth to twins. Please don't contradict me, I'll grow out of it on my own.

Since Plot-Bunnies and Prompts have equally failed me, I try my hand at Experimental Writing. Hope you enjoy. =)

Title: A Life with you in it can never be small
Summary: Three different situations, two different outcomes, one mutual beginning
Characters: Emil Västerström, Lalli Hotakainen
Relationships: Emil/Lalli, Emil & Lalli
Settings: post-Mission, on-Mission, AU – modern times
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death in chapter three
Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Emil's POV
[22:31] <@amity> And they care about only two things: Emil/Lalli fanfic, and chewing bubblegum.
[22:31] <@amity> And the word is, they're all out of bubblegum.

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wavewright62

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Re: The SSSS Scriptorium
« Reply #3394 on: October 09, 2017, 07:13:52 PM »
But then I couldn't beat him up--you know how difficult it is for anyone to strike a Happy Medium!

Besides, they're pretty thin on the ground: I don't know about you, but I like my Mediums rare.

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*giggles* 

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LooNEY_DAC

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Re: The SSSS Scriptorium
« Reply #3395 on: October 10, 2017, 04:02:45 AM »
The following is not a happy tale.

Alphabet Soup
A “Stand Still. Stay Silent” fanfic collection
Series 3, Part 19
Complete Links to Complete Links post
Spoiler: The Siv Incident • show
“I’m leaving for good! I’m going as far away from Mora as I can get—and I’m changing my name, too! I hate you all and I never want to see any of you again!”

Sune Västerström had always borne a pronounced resemblance to his cousin, the Icon, and as the years went on and the Icon grew ever more iconic, Sune had maintained the resemblance as best he could. He had also waited for some time to start a family, and was thus paying the price of dealing with a restive and angsty teenager while in the sixth decade of his life.

His siblings had been of no help, as neither of them had been blessed with children (officially—there were persistent rumors about Håkan, and there had been that time Anna had “gone north” for several months); so, Sune was on his own. Finally, matters came to a head.

Siv was the only daughter Sune had or would ever have, named in honor of his dead mother, and for most of her childhood, she had been most deceptively compliant. Nothing she’d done then compared to the antics Sune remembered Anna dragging him and Håkan into—or that was how he remembered it. Now, she was always blowing up at him about one thing or another, and neither he nor his wife had the least idea of how to handle her moods.

Siv never argued with her mother, as Sune’s wife Sara was one of those people with whom it is impossible to argue, as she immediately conceded any point which you cared to dispute with her; it was most trying at times for Sune. No, Siv’s arguments were always and exclusively with her father.

The upshot of her latest diatribe was that Siv, having had to “put up with” being cousin (and not particularly close) not only to the Icon and the Genius but to the Great Doctor and the Thespian as well for as long as she could remember, had finally decided that she’d had enough and more than enough of her famous family “dominating her life” and “keeping her from making her own name”, culminating in the vicious exit line above. While Siv had harped on these themes in an increasingly strident manner over the last year or so, this was the first time she’d actually walked out of the house Sune had inherited from his parents.

Both Anna and Håkan, having been drawn into the room by the intensity of the argument whereas Sara had fled, were stunned into silence by Siv’s exit for quite some time, but all four adult Västerströms agreed after the fact that Siv was bound to return after she’d had time to cool off. Wasn’t that what teenagers did?

This attitude, and many others Sune had maintained for most of his adult life, became harder and harder to sustain the longer Siv had been gone. Eventually, Sune hired some slightly shady characters to find his errant daughter; they found her in Iceland, married, happy, and successful in her chosen profession.

She had changed her name and claimed to be an orphan.

Sune was especially crushed by this last, but he exerted one final effort, placing an advertisement in a periodical Siv was known to read. It read: “SIV — I’m sorry. Sune”.

A few years later, another advertisement appeared in the periodical: “SIV — Sune is dying. Sara”.

Siv Västerström never returned to Sweden…

Spoiler: Authorial Notes • show
So, here’s a Västerström tragedy in brief.

LooNEY_DAC

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Re: The SSSS Scriptorium
« Reply #3396 on: October 10, 2017, 06:02:45 AM »
This is too soon after the prior post, but oh well.

Alphabet Soup
A “Stand Still. Stay Silent” fanfic collection
Series 1, Part 20
Complete Links to Complete Links post
Spoiler: A Time to Mourn • show
Lalli looked out at the ruins of the camp. The mangled bodies of his friends were smeared across the ground in a sickening mixture of blood and mud and bits of flesh and bone that was only just intact enough to be recognizable as who they had been. Again, the sight was sickening; but worse than that hideous sight was the smell.

After a long moment of internal struggle, Lalli forced himself to look over at the only other “living” thing left on the field. It was looking back at him, silent and motionless, waiting. His grief finally turning to anger, Lalli was suddenly struck by the notion that It was in fact taunting him by Its very motionlessness, as though It were saying outright, “What can you do against me now? You couldn’t keep me from slaughtering your friends!”

Lalli had indeed failed to save his friends, but the determination rising in him was pushing him to avenge them. He leapt to his feet…

…And woke up in the sleeping compartment of their vehicle. All was still; all was silent.

The room was far too quiet for any of the others to be in their bunks, so Lalli knew he would have to venture forth to find them. A tiny voice in the back of Lalli’s mind that sounded very much like Onni whispered at him not to go, cautioning him of what he might find and reminding of what he had found once before…

Lalli shook his head fiercely, trying to fling the memory away. He would not think of it. He would not.

Lalli moved to the door purposefully. He knew It was almost at hand, and so he needed to warn the others, so blissfully unaware of what It was capable of doing. And had done already…

No! He would not think of that! He reached for the handle to open the door…

“Lalli.”

He turned at the soft call. Tuuri and Onni stood about a meter to his left, serious looks on their faces.

As always, Tuuri did the talking. “I know it hurts, but you need to face the truth.”

Lalli’s eyes squeezed shut, but she continued, “You don’t need us now; not anymore. Keeping us around like this just brings shame on you and dishonors our memory.”

“How?” he choked out. “What honor is there in… in…”

“In how we died?” Onni finished for him. “None. The honor is in how we lived, and how we loved. Keeping us here like this makes a mockery of that life and love. You know this.”

Lalli turned away, but there they were in front of him again, a little closer now. Lalli shut his eyes again and admitted, “I can’t live without you two; I’m not strong enough to be alone.”

“But you’re not alone.” This voice, less well-known but still familiar, came from the doorway. When Lalli looked, there was Emil, looking unwontedly solemn. “You have us; and while we’re not the close cousins of your youth, we’re still your friends, like it or not, and we’ll be as close as you’ll let us.”

Emil had been speaking in Swedish, but Lalli had understood every last word. Briefly, Lalli wondered whether the whole conversation had been in Swedish, but before his mind could clamp on to the distraction from this all-too-painful topic, Tuuri spoke again.

“You need to let us go, Lalli.”

Onni added, “At the very least, you need to start to let us go. We can hang around until It has come and gone, but after that, you need to let us rest in peace.” Then they vanished.

Lalli turned back to the door to find Emil regarding him with an alarmed look. “Lalli, what’s ‘It’?”

Lalli sighed. “I was just going out to warn you about It, but the tale is long and full of sorrow.” He began to explain…

Spoiler: Authorial Notes • show
Oy vey.

Lazy8

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Re: The SSSS Scriptorium
« Reply #3397 on: October 10, 2017, 09:04:10 AM »
Another one in the gladiator AU, but without any gladiators this time.

...does that still make it a gladiator AU?

The Phoenix


: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

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Re: The SSSS Scriptorium
« Reply #3398 on: October 11, 2017, 07:16:24 AM »
Alphabet Soup
A “Stand Still. Stay Silent” fanfic collection
Series 2, Part 20
Complete Links to Complete Links post
Spoiler: Time and Tide • show
The House of Records was as old a building as any in the village; but for the number etched into the cornerstone, none might have realized that it was but the latest in a long line of such Houses. Seldom did anyone plumb the depths of its archive during this, the heyday of the Fourth Age; even the eldest of the elders hardly ever went there, for who wanted to read of the ancient arts when none now living could recreate them?

Dust swirled and glinted in the beams cast into the shadowed depths of the Far Room when the youth very nearly pushed the elder currently saddled with the job of Archivist and Caretaker of the House of Records inside. The elder made a point of moving to the relevant chest of records as slowly as he possibly could, but the youth didn’t notice the elder’s deliberate lack of haste.

The youth was practically vibrating with impatience as the stooped elder slowly leafed through the ancient papers with his gnarled fingers. Every time the elder paused, no matter how briefly, the youth immediately asked, “Is that it? Did you find it?”

At last the elder said in reply, “Yes, here it is.” Turning to get the papers more fully into one of the sunbeams still valiantly trying to lighten the room’s gloom, he continued, “Set down here is the record of how our village was saved by the pilgrims from the West so very long ago.”

“Read it!” the youth cried. Then, remembering his manners, the youth added, “…please.”

The elder adjusted the Archivist’s Loupe so that his weary eyes could make out the faded scrawls on the papers without undue effort, but before he commenced, he turned back to the youth and asked, “And why has the fire of inquiry ignited so passionately in you on this long-forgotten tale, young one?”

The youth bit his lip before confessing, “I went to Ngengomrang last month for the Festival, and there was a songster who mentioned it in one of his songs, but only in passing; it was a ‘don’t be like this idiot’ song with a verse about the Tyrant Ngemb.”

“Ah.” The elder turned back to the papers. “Bear in mind that this account will use the old names of Ngengomrang and the Tyrant who ruled it, as well as the old name of our village.”

“Which would be Kyankanamarakanan, Kyankan and Marambaraparatharamda respectively?” the youth asked.

The elder nodded sharply in grudging approval. “That is correct. Also, this account was set down in the decidedly prosaic form that was employed by all credible historians of the time; if you are expecting poetry, or magniloquent and breathless passages in this account, you are doomed to disappointment.”

The youth crossed his arms over his still scrawny chest. “I will be content to hear it as they wrote it,” he said, his tone belying his words.

The elder shrugged. “Very well. Let’s see, where does the story begin?” he mused, glancing over the paper anew…

Spoiler: Authorial Notes • show
Did I not say that ‘Time and Tide’ would tell?

Well, it hasn’t quite yet, but soon (kinda).

Róisín

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Re: The SSSS Scriptorium
« Reply #3399 on: October 11, 2017, 05:31:41 PM »
Good. Very curious!
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LooNEY_DAC

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Re: The SSSS Scriptorium
« Reply #3400 on: October 12, 2017, 07:21:18 AM »
Alphabet Soup
A “Stand Still. Stay Silent” fanfic collection
Series 3, Part 20
Complete Links to Complete Links post
Spoiler: The Task At Hand • show
Whatever Emil had expected to gain from this trip into the Silent World, a mortal enemy was pretty much at the bottom of the list. Miira’s snarky comments on the subject weren’t particularly helpful, either.

Miira was out of sorts for the same reason as Sigrun: the Icelander not being immune like the others had thrown a wrench and several marbles into the gears of the expedition; while they had brought along the already-packed protective gear meant for Tuuri, this untrained civilian with no useful skills and apparently no survival instincts required an extra level of protection that the crew simply weren’t used to including in their daily routine.

Well, at least Miira was as snarky, disdainful and altogether unpleasant to the redheaded stowaway as she was to all the others; probably none of them could have stood it if she’d taken a shine to him.

*

In over five decades of research, the Svensson Center had produced less than 700 test samples, which exemplified its most fundamental problem: there was too much work split among too few people working with too few subjects, and far too little time in which to do it. Tuuri was simply bursting with energy and ideas, but she was only one skald, and hobbled (at least for the moment) at that.

Where Tuuri really chafed was at how the others limited her hours in the Center. The pain and the lack of physical activity combined to cut her sleep time to practically nil, but they wouldn’t let her work! It really was most upsetting.

Every so often, Tuuri found her mind wandering to how the expedition was going. She’d been prohibited from using the radio when she was up late at night, and the usual check-in time was while she was at the Center, so she really didn’t get so many opportunities to chat with her cousin and her erstwhile colleagues.

Everything’s probably going disgustingly smoothly for them, Tuuri thought in sudden annoyance.

*

The vehicle stopped dead, confronted by a wall of snow.

“The road is impassable; the little fool undoubtedly failed to scout a backup route.” Sigrun looked solemn at Miira’s gruff words but forbore to say anything just yet.

Miira turned back to Lalli, using the others’ ignorance of Finnish to tell him, “Congratulations. Your failure to do your job properly has brought us into a perfect ambush setup.”

That got the scout’s attention. “I don’t fail,” he snarled so viciously that even the others were taken aback. “There are other routes, and I’ll find them!”

Then, without another word, he was off into the snow.

*

“Onni!”

Tuuri had almost literally tripped over her brother on her way back from work, but fortunately, her crutches hadn’t done him any serious damage. A moment later, her crutches were abandoned as her big brother grabbed her in a huge bear hug. This time, they were both unashamedly crying.

The Finns chattered away for hours, for there was much for them to discuss. The fact that Reynir was a mage who had heretofore had no idea of it was one of the main points that they had to worry over, but there were several other matters of concern, like Tuuri’s replacement, Miira.

Something would have to be done about the increasingly acerbic woman; but how did you solve a problem like Miira?

*

The confrontation had been long in coming, but when it came, it exploded with an intensity no one had expected.

“One of these days, the idiocy you and the other fools flaunt in the faces of the gods will get me killed, and then I won’t be able to save you from your folly as I have so often already, so you’ll all die!” Miira’s voice had grown increasingly strident as her diatribe went on, until she was nearly shouting with the rage she’d been supposedly suppressing all this time.

By contrast, Sigrun’s voice was entirely calm and deadly serious as she told Miira, “Actually, the only reason you’re still alive is because your dying would hurt the team in the short run just slightly more than it would help—and it certainly would help, and especially in the long run. The minute I think your death would hurt us less, even in the short run, I will kill you myself.”

Then Sigrun turned away, leaving a speechless and disconcerted Miira on the receiving end of a curt dismissal for once…

Spoiler: Authorial Notes • show
Well, this got longer than I’d expected.

Lazy8

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Re: The SSSS Scriptorium
« Reply #3401 on: October 12, 2017, 07:35:06 AM »
Alphabet Soup
A “Stand Still. Stay Silent” fanfic collection
Series 3, Part 20
The Task At Hand

Not sure easygoing Sigrun would put her foot down quite that hard, but I still loved seeing her doing it.

(Also, whatever led to that confrontation?)
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:china: can usually manage to order food
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Róisín

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Re: The SSSS Scriptorium
« Reply #3402 on: October 12, 2017, 08:23:31 AM »
I could see her doing it to someone who bullied the young folk.
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Lazy8

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Re: The SSSS Scriptorium
« Reply #3403 on: October 12, 2017, 08:35:06 AM »
I could see her doing it to someone who bullied the young folk.

...and now I really want to see that confrontation.
: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

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Re: The SSSS Scriptorium
« Reply #3404 on: October 13, 2017, 06:45:41 AM »
...and now I really want to see that confrontation.
I'll write it up soon, but until then...

...have a double update!

Alphabet Soup
A “Stand Still. Stay Silent” fanfic collection
Series 1, Part 21
Complete Links to Complete Links post
Spoiler: An Untimely End • show
The island hadn’t exploded yet, but it was only a matter of time before it did, so all six of them were working like mad to rebuild the balloon.

The island was volcanic, and the volcano was waking up. What turned this from simply “dangerous” to “catastrophic” was that the sea had eaten away at the walls around the primary lava tube; when it broke through, the water would hit lava at around 2500 - 3000 degrees, making the tube a boiler without sufficient outlet for the resulting steam.

So the island was going to explode, and probably very soon, as the volcano had begun to smoke again.

Ordinarily, they might have built a boat instead, but these were warm waters, and the sea-beasts were highly active around the island, which made their original swim from the islet to the island even more miraculous in that they had crossed without incident. So, they were reconstructing the balloon for a journey that they couldn’t avoid, though they knew neither how long it would take nor where their destination was.

The submarine, though truly wondrous in her construction, was utterly useless for their purposes: first, if they tried to escape in her, the sea-beasts would reduce her to scrap in moments; second, all her fittings and parts were too heavy by far for the six to use them on the balloon, where weight had to be kept to a minimum. It was a crying shame, and Tuuri indeed shed a few tears over it when she thought the others weren’t looking; they were, but they pretended they hadn’t seen—even Lalli, not usually the most socially adept of them.

If only that volcano would hold off long enough for them to take flight…

*

They had found the underground sea because of Reynir, of course. He’d had a vision of going down the well in Granite House and through a tunnel into that vast cavern where the submarine rested, and Sigrun had donned one of the wetsuits from the lock to Lake Grant and gone down to prove him right or prove him wrong.

Within the submarine were preserved all the wonders of Old World technology that had become only legends to the denizens of Year 90; Tuuri and Mikkel were in hog heaven going through it all, as Sigrun put it.

Despite the banks upon banks of computers, there were quite extensive written records within the submarine’s vaults; some of these amplified upon the account left by the last tenant of Granite House, detailing how a cult had created or acquired or flat-out stolen a sample of the Illness and prepared to unleash it on their world, how the author had found a way to inoculate himself and other susceptible organisms to the Illness, and how the author had finally broken with the cult and fled here with his notes and specimens.

So was solved the mystery of how the Illness had failed to gain a foothold on the island: everything on it was immune, and had been from the beginning.

Another thing set down in the accounts was a description of the problem that would ultimately doom the island, and, after a foray to see for themselves whether this assessment of their oncoming peril was accurate, the six had thrown themselves into making their escape.

The balloon was inflated and ready, but they were still loading the supplies they’d need when the ground began to heave…

Spoiler: Authorial Notes • show
This is scarily easy to write.


Alphabet Soup
A “Stand Still. Stay Silent” fanfic collection
Series 2, Part 21
Spoiler: Untitled Fantasy Project • show
Mikkel Madsen, author of “Mars on a C-Note a Day”, “Love and the Modern AI”, “Pearl-Blossoms Across the Sky (and Other Stories)”, and many more such hard sci-fi tales, watched the tall redhead mount the stage with an athletic leap and a manic grin as the MC concluded his hyperbolic introduction of her with, “…your Queen of the Troll Hunters, Sigrun Eide!”

Mikkel rolled his eyes. Well, he could only hope they wouldn’t be thrown together too much over the course of this convention; he hated loud noises at the best of times, and she gave off the decided impression that she was a loud noise.

The crowd at the opening ceremony did not seem to share this opinion of the b-movie actress, by all appearances: they were going wild with glee at her on-stage antics to demonstrate that she still did all her own stunts. Well, let them have their fun; the ceremonies would be over soon enough, and then Mikkel could plant himself in Autograph Row and endure the line of fans desirous of gushing over his oeuvre as long as his signing hand would hold up; hopefully, the panels he was on would provide enough of a respite that he would make it through the affair. Mikkel was not looking forward to the koffeeklatsches, though.

A flash of grey at the very back of the crowd caught Mikkel’s eye. Near the doors, a short, young and slightly pudgy girl (he thought—it was so hard to tell nowadays) was dragging a taller, thinner person of about the same age into the room. Both were cosplaying as “grunts” from Sigrun’s latest movie, “The First Rule”, though it had only been out for a week or two.

Near the stage, a gangly redhead almost as tall as Sigrun turned to wave at them, though how he’d heard them over the crowd was anyone’s guess. Perhaps, Mikkel mused, the elongated ears of his elf cosplay actually helped there, though they looked to be falling off if he moved his head too violently, or maybe his impressively long braid was acting as a sensory organ in some mysterious way. In any case, the crowd was too thick for the three of them to get together, so the short one contented herself by waving back.

Mikkel sighed and waited for the ceremony to end.

*

Emil gritted his teeth and waited for the opening ceremonies to end so that the DDR tournament could begin. Here he was, ready to school all comers, and he had to stand and wait for all the introductions and presentations of people he’d never heard of (and wouldn’t have cared about if he had heard of them) to be over so his erstwhile competitors could get out here and the tournament could begin.

Emil had been playing DDR almost as long as he could walk; while he’d had some pretty stiff competition in past tourneys, he still had yet to meet his equal, and was arrogant enough to assume that that day would never come. That was why he made a point of going last whenever they’d let him, so that the other contestants wouldn’t be crushed right at the outset. Let them try their best and have their fun; he would still win regardless.

Then the ceremonies finally ended, and people flooded the game room. A tall, thin figure moving with an almost unnatural grace caught Emil’s eye as it wandered over to the DDR area…

Spoiler: Authorial Notes • show
Wait, I’m starting another AU? And stealing it from someone else?

…Yes. Yes, I am, because Juniper abandoned the idea and deleted the story more than a year ago, so now it’s mine, and I’ll do it the way I want to see it done.