Getting this fic out of my other post and into a new one. My history of Alternia City.
From Scraps to Struggles: Part 1
"SO GUYS WHAT DO YOU THINK?"
"w-what is this i don't even."
"H-how... how did you... make this so quickly?"
"I'm impressed, Vagabond... No, Vindicator"
It was a town. A small town, with only 4 houses, a town hall, and 3 storage buildings, but it was still a town. It was made with nothing but cans, but it was still a town. Pity that the Wayward Vagabond hadn't thought of using all the rubble that remained of the First Great Skaian War, but it was understandable. After all, they WERE thousands of miles away from either Prospit or Derse, with no equipment to use aside from military weapons.
"Regent, you will be tasked with the protection of the city. And maybe you can take part in developing the laws. If that is okay with you, of course." said the Windswept Questant, formerly known as the White Queen of Prospit.
"oh yes!... umm i mean thank you questant or whatever your title is now. umm, if you'll excuse me i'll go put away my armaments first." the Armaments Regent announced, obviously excited and maybe flustered. He ran off, into what he assumed was his house, forgetting what the town was made of. And crashed. But strangely, nothing came tumbling down.
"If it doesn't bother you, WV, I fixed up the town for you. Every city, whether it is a monarchy or not, deserves to be well-built. If not, it will only serve as trouble for its residents.""
"I- ERR, UMM, thanks WK, I GUESS," WV replied, with both gratitude and suspicion.
"Not to worry, WV. I'm not like your Black King. Prospit may have lost every battle, but we pride ourselves on being better than Derse in terms of kindness. In fact, that may be the reason we lost! But what's winning at the cost of losing lives, right?"
"I agree, WK."
"I GUESS. BUT I STILL GET THE FEELING THAT..."
"Hmm? What is it, WV?"
Before WV could say anything, there was a strange blinking light.
"SERENITY! I'VE BEEN LOOKING FOR YOU. WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?"
Serenity blinked in Morse code. Something along the lines of, "I found some stuff, but I ain't so sure what they are. But they're alive, and they're definitely NOT animals. They're really far away though. They're walking. They could walk for a year and not find us."
AR cut in. "what!? that's good news unless they're not friendly. that would be bad."
WV tried to reassure them while still keeping them on guard.
“WE'LL FIND OUT WHEN WE SEE THEM.”
Fanfic No. 1 of my From Humble Beginnings Series. Also split into parts. Yeah, no surprise there. Also, to help keep track of who's talking: Bold: WV Italics: AR Underline: PM
Normal: WQ All of the above: WK
EDIT: Changed typing/speaking styles because I felt like it.
Last edited by aspiringHelpfulness; 05-30-2011 at 05:08 AM.
Oh wow, I disappear for awhile only to come back to see new people adding amazing stuff here. This is awesome, need to get off my butt and continue the Karkat Gang fic I've got going and my collab with Frosted. I've been putting everything off recently and I want to apologize for that.
I found a quirk for Recki and will update her profile post. I also changed Rusty’s color and will update her profile post. I eventually will post how Recki interacts with various people in the course of a day, and the profile of her alter ego Lucid Somnambulist and a short Lucid story.
@Kayak I really like your take on that.
@Redbird, wow and I personally don't put much thought into how characters accents and mannerisms' would sound in real life.
@MannyWestside everybody's new once I hope you get the hang of this.
@aspiringHelpfulness I can't wait for more.
@Wigmund all of use have other things to do we just have to make the time. I personally can wait for your stuff because It's all good.
There’s a reason: Short Rusty fic.
There’s a reason only Wrecki and Trigger have seen Dew’s private sketch books. Besides her drawings of ships that straddle the line between PG-13 and R. Dew as one would say in the psychic business is a sensitive. She has little to no power but reacts to things with a psychic aura. Given the right stimuli she may become a medium or a clairvoyant; as her sketchbooks show she is predisposed to both.
Dew’s sketchbooks are filled with a lot of things friends and acquaintances being haunted by dead lussi. Sketches occupying it may be of the gruesome murders of ghosts from the distant past in the wars, more recently in the streets, and possible terrible futures that may affect this city.
It is quite disconcerting to go from a ship picture of Crowbro and Officer Pyrope making out in the rain, to a troll being burned by the Green Sun during the disaster and impaled on a pylon.
Even though she has little control of these train of thought sketches when visited by psychic impressions; somehow she manages to hide her Wrecki <3 Trig ship in her super-secret sketchbooks.
Echoes of Memories: A Ghost poem.
It’s happening again…
The city is slipping into darkness,
hate taints the waters that run through its gutters.
Yet technology has continued on.
Those who raise the torch and wear the crest are the ones who need protection most.
Yea, brave souls be the fire that lights the path out of the darkness.
May you never burn out or betray by releasing smoke to obscure the path.
For it becomes more treacherous as you do and we morn the loss of each of you.
One ghost asks another in a tomb of tin, who am I and where have we been?
Possible prompts for Fanfictions
They are both about someone doing someone the favor of helping out with an investigation.
Because If I’m the only one who writes about Wrecki it feels like I’m doing a Mary Sue fanfic, especially with her alter-ego. Feferi asks Recki in searching for a runaway starts along the lines of this:
Feferi Texts Wrecki: )(---EY! Shipwreck, I n---E---Ed you to do som------Ething for m---E!
Recki replies: ~<D~ Is it something your boyfriend could do, or is it a girl thing Undine?
Feferi responds: It is som---Ething h---E could do if h---E had fr---E---Etim---E!
Recki retorts: ~<D~ Okay I have plenty of fr---E---Etim---E as you put it because I have no life. So what is it you need help with? Did the kids like the gifts I bought for them?
Feferi concludes: Well that’s just it one of them is missing! S---E---E m---E aft---Er work! 38(
Because March Eridan and Sollux Going undercover in drag made a bastard love child that my muse had to tell me about:
H3Y 3R1D4N DO YOU W4NT TO B3 US3FUL FOR ONC3 1N 4N 1NV3ST1G4T1ON?
[Insert plot here]
…And that’s how Eridan ended up fighting [Insert Criminal Faction] in a tube top, pigtails, and a kilt.
(Please have Kanaya pick out the outfit.)
Hi, TROLL!COPS forum! I'm new to the MSPAF, and the TROLL!COPS idea is one of the cheesiest, most awesome things I've laid eyes on yet. My mediocre writing skills are itching to write up a short story for this AU, so before I hop to, I must ask:
Are there rules or guidelines for contribution? (e.g. how tightly should I constrain the story to the backdrop in the OP?)
Are there any highly recommended fics to read to get a feel for how to treat these characters and what kind of mood the short should have?
There are basically no concrete rules.
However, the mostly-accepted canons would be Wigmund's fics and the deviantart RP.
The only character that acts different than they do in Homestuck would be Tavros/Mr.Pupa. And there's also the fan-character Maggie.
I would recommend constraining it to the characters keeping the jobs/roles they have, but you can pretty much do what you want with interpersonal stuff.
I would say that the most important fics to read are not the ones that offer their own interpretation of the character but the ones that explain the general workings of the city.
@Huanir- as CD said, there are not really any concrete canons. c: Just use the things you like, and add your own stuff into it, if you want to. (After all, that's what I did with Sisters. And I plan on adding more of my own idea's. That's the wonderful thing with this AU, you can give or take any canon you want. )
@Gingerale- Just... wow. The fact people like Sister's so much is amazing! Thank you so much guys! And I am hoping on finishing the 3rd part this week. So look forward to it. :3
Some advice for the blossoming phantom thief: if you plan on doing a top floor robbery, bring some rope. Or maybe a glider. But definitely some rope. Take it from someone who knows. I didn’t bring any rope, or a glider, or anything really, not even a plan. Sorta stupid, I guess, but I was sorta stupid back then.
There I was, falling, a bag full of loot in one hand, a dagger in the other. At the first sign of trouble I had jumped, only remembering that I was on the 50th floor when I saw how far away the artificial gardens were. I recall thinking how stupid this entire thing was on the way down. The irony didn’t escape me either, considering that my choice of name was “The Flying Fox”. More like “The Falling Fox”, or “The Idiot”. I’d soon after change the name to something more practical and cool, but that’s not what this tale is about.
Anyway, I was trying, and failing, to make peace with myself and whoever was listening when I felt something snag onto my belt. It was a gigantic recruiting poster for the military. You know the kind, all strength and honor and crap. Well, apparently not fabric strength, as that sucker started ripping pretty fast, slowing my fall. Eager to help I went spread-eagled, providing as much surface area as possible and slowing myself even more. When I finally landed, in a very leafy bush, I was going slow enough that I didn’t break any bones, although it still hurt.
The bush scratched me up pretty bad and my blue blood would provide a lot of evidence for the courts. Not that it mattered; the troll it belonged to was supposed to be dead. I picked myself up, glanced around the empty gardens, and ran. It wasn’t too long before I heard sirens in the background, and sped up. To my left I saw my chance to escape to the slums below, where I would be safe among the lowbloods, consorts, and other inhabitants. It was a humble trash can and one of the dirty secrets of the glass city. Instead of containing a bag, it instead was situated over a chute that led to one of several dumping areas. Quick as a flash I jumped in and started to slide down.
They never cleared out the dumping area unless it was absolutely necessary, so I had a nice soft pile of refuse to land on. The smell was unbearable, sure, and the undercity was by no means safe, there were plenty of small time gangs that roamed the dark streets, but I was safe from the cops and had a bag of loot that would keep me fed for a long while. And so it was with a whistle and few worries that I climbed down from the pile and started on my way.
That was when I heard it. The sound that would start the process that shaped me into who I am now. From an alleyway that I couldn’t hope to see into unaided I heard a scuffle, and a voice try to call out for help before being silenced. All I knew was that someone was in trouble, that someone needed help NOW. Apparently it was enough for me, as foolish as it seems. I dropped the bag, turned on my flashlight, and charged in. What I saw will be forever stuck in my mind as the moment my purpose changed. A troll, a big bloke with short, spikey horns and dressed in a stained shirt and loose pants, had pinned a rag-dressed human girl to the wall with one huge hand and was holding a knife to her throat with the other.
At this point you should know some things about me. The first is that I have always had a lot of respect for girls. Call it chivalry if you want, it’s just how my uncle raised me. The second is a little problem I have with anger. OK, a big problem. Most people describe things as getting blurry, but for me everything gets sharper, almost as if it’s more natural for me to be that way. I notice every little detail, like the fact that nobody in the vicinity had washed recently, or that the girl’s eyes were the exact same shade of blue as my blood.
The dude stank of alcohol and sopor, so I figured he wasn’t going to notice me any time soon. I could’ve just stabbed him in the back, but from what it looked like this guy was about to do, I figured he deserved worse. My first action was to disarm him, literally; cutting off the hand that was holding the knife to her throat. Then, as his alcohol and slime rusted think-pan tried to figure out what was wrong, I slugged him in the jaw. Now, I was never very strong, nor do I have much weight to me, but I was mad. The blow made him lose his grip on her entirely and she slumped down against the wall.
At the time I’d hoped that she’d run like a sensible person and not have to see what happened next, and I still wish she’d done that, but she just sat there, watching me. I didn’t have time to worry about her though: the man had collected himself -figuratively, of course, he hadn’t actually picked up his hand- and started towards me. I stood my ground as he charged, using the last moment to sidestep, hook his foot with mine, and grab his uninjured wrist. His own momentum pulled him down and slammed him into the dirty ground. I wrenched his shoulder from its socket with a pop, pinned the useless arm to his back with my foot, and leaned in, putting all of my weight on him.
He turned his head and looked at me from the corner of his eye. I stared back. For a second, all was still. I heard footsteps, maybe it was the cops, maybe it wasn’t, but I didn’t want to find out. I narrowed my eyes, He closed his. My grip on the knife tightened and I struck. It was over. I stared for a moment at the blood on the blade, finally noticing its color: purple. I studied the troll’s face a bit more and found his gills, abnormally small and far back. He had been a royal-blood.
“T|-|EY’RE /\LL T|-|E S/\|\/|E” I said with disgust. (I would ask that you not judge me too harshly for my... prejudice. The scars were still painful back then.)
His death, as it turned out, caused less of a stir than I had thought it would. He was proof of how things had changed. Despite being a purple-blood he had no family, no connections, nothing. All the detective could find, based on the testimony of a drunk crocodile consort and a man called “Crazy Tim”, was that he had something of a reputation for violence and didn’t have the cleanest of hands.
As I stood up I looked back at the girl. Her expression was blank, emotionless. I gathered up my sack, picked out some coinage, not too much so she wouldn’t become a target, and dropped it in her lap.
I absconded to my hideout, a place no-one would suspect, a large house in the middle of the Alternia Heights ward. The owners had been dead for fifteen years, and the house had been left as a memorial to them. Or perhaps the city just couldn’t be bothered. As I relaxed in the dust I reflected on the job. At the time I thought that it hadn’t gone too bad, I was alive after all, but I might have felt differently had I known what it would lead to.
I'm actually not too sure how well this turned out :/
I should mention that I really like how wigmund set up the different parts of the city.
Also, I'm planning to do more with this, maybe have him interact with some of the established factions, but I'm honestly not sure if I can do them justice.
Just to confirm, all characters in that fic are OCs, right? Besides that, I like it! The character is interesting, and I like the details you put in. I'll be waiting for more. And maybe I'll get back to writing some on my own, while I'm waiting.
Just to confirm, all characters in that fic are OCs, right? Besides that, I like it! The character is interesting, and I like the details you put in. I'll be waiting for more. And maybe I'll get back to writing some on my own, while I'm waiting.
I guess you could imagine if you wanted that sollux and terezi are involved because cops, but yeah, no canon characters where harmed in the making of this fic.
I'm just really worried that I'll get their voices wrong :(
The next one will establish the character a bit more, focusing on his backstory and situation. Maybe I could even work in some canon character cameos or something...
Here's another serious fic. Also my longest so far.
Out of the Loop
It's a harsh world outside of Alternia City. Ruins, be it of the former great kingdoms Prospit and Derse, the former settlements of the humans and trolls, or the great Frog Temples, were scattered about in all corners of the planet, known as Skaia. As well as these ruins, there were unexplored Lands. These Lands were not meant to be trodden upon in any way. For in these places were harsh environments, and creatures much worse. A small fraction of these creatures now dwell in Alternia City's sewers; a large amount still roam about, making Alternia City the only safe haven in Skaia. Even then, it was not completely safe. These conditions were perfect for sealing away the largest threat that was ever faced. Right now, he lies dormant in the center of the Rift, a giant... rift on the other side of the world that separated the Lands. Occasionally, he would lash out and try to escape, but would always fail. And no one would ever be the wiser...
"argh why wont this stupid glass break this thing gives me a headache i mean seriously how do they even build glass this durable anyway this is f***ing annoying"
Yes, this is our biggest threat.
"damn this stupid ectowhatever case i will keep stabbing and slashing and sh*t until i break out of this f***ing case!"
No, his attempts are not doing any damage to the case. He will be trapped in there forever. Unless I should intervene. But I will stay and watch his pathetic attempts to escape. I know it will eventually work. Then again, I know everything. Hmm hmm hmm... Ah, if I may. I wish to speak normally now. I hope you will be fine with this, because you don't have a choice. I was only speaking differently to aid you. May I speak normally now? Thank you. Now, he will then use his Fi-
"im going to use my f***ing first guardian powers to break out even if it costs me 10 weeks and 25 days of action if it doesnt work"
Exactly. He does this when he's really angry. Like now. But all his attempts were fruitless. Why should this be any different, you ask? It is different. Now then, it's about time I intervened. I will want all the pieces I can get. He waits, and I will not keep him any longer.
"thats it youre really asking for it ya piece a sh*t well have some of th-"
Now, now, Jack Noir. There's no need to be angry.
*Jack glares at Scratch. Contempt fills his gaze. Such was natural for Jack Noir. His tone was filled with disdain.*
"yeah well f*** you scratch i dont need any of this bull****"
No need to be uncivilized. I know-
"i know that you know everything and i know that ill be stuck here for 10 weeks 25 days longer because my power wont break the case now will you shut up and just let me use my f***ing power so i can get this over with"
"after this ill talk just make it quick so i can burst out more anger and"
And think about Jade?
*Jack was flustered.*
"oh shut the f*** up and dont use her name to spite me it gives me a reason to kill you"
My apologies, then.
"right now its time to get this over with so that i can get you outta my sight quicker mr know it all"
So you acknowledge my omniscience? Well then, let me say that-
"fine! goddammit can you make this quick"
You will escape-
*Jack, in his anger, lets out a First Guardian explosion. The explosion manages to shake Rift and break the case. Jack looks blankly at the shards of glass that were once his prison*
Now, what was that about me lying, Jack? You know I don't lie. But then again, you only knew me by name.
*Jack is speechless. In the time it took him to regain composure, it seems he had also thought of a response, albeit not a very good one.*
"oh shut it scratch you wanted something from me"
You are right. I knew you would eventually break out at this moment. I also knew that you would come to me. So I figured, I might as well save you the trouble.
"well that's really f***ing thoughtful of you scratch so what was it you needed im just itching for some blood"
All in good time, Jack. All in good time.
"just tell me what you want or else i wont be helping you"
See, I know that you will help me regardless. But I digress.
"no sh*t youre digressing i mean its obvious"
Ahem. Now, as to why I want your help... I just do. I don't need you, but you will be useful in the future. So I took that hint from my limitless pool of knowledge and decided to enlist you as one of my arbitrary but beneficial "pieces" in my plan.
"wait a minute one of them as in theres more
Precisely. The Felt are some. Although it is only Snowman I care about.
"right that b*tch thats a clone of the black queen i killed"
Yes. She has a valuable ability. One that-
"yeah save it for later lets get outta here"
Ah, yes. Of course. We will discuss this on the moon.
*And so, they went. They teleported.*
"oh no. never thought i'd have to use THAT again, but i guess i have to. i'll also need some help. let's see..."
The onlooker ponders his options...
(Hmm, that witness... Well, no plan ever goes smoothly. Even if I dealt with him myself, it would only cause chaos. That man isn't one to take threats. No matter, this is still going according to plan. No matter what they do, they can't stop me. They can't stop my plan. This I know for a fact.
*Doc Scratch looks at a particular dot on Skaia.*
Alternia City... You are left out of the loop...
Yeah... Only thing I have to mention is that the narration is enclosed in asterisks. That is, after Doc Scratch's reveal.
Edit: Also I want some thoughts as to how I handled Doc Scratch and Jack. I feel like I've done something to derail their character.Thoughts?
Last edited by aspiringHelpfulness; 04-09-2011 at 01:17 AM.
Here's my first whack at writing fiction in a few years. Please praise and/or critique as you feel led by the quality/content of the work:
The Resplendent Assassin - Chapter 1
I knew that it was going to be a long night after the Chief's secretary dropped off her third stack of paperwork in my office. Usually the Chief himself would be the one working on the denial-of-liability forms for the deaths of those my partner and I pursued, but I think he was out of office with some sort of illness or something. Or maybe Officer Serket was using her quaint mind-control tricks on the Chief to get back at me for something, I don't know. It's so hard to keep track of the petty office politics when you're a super-busy detective always bringing lowlifes to justice like me. >:]
I sniffed towards my partner's desk. He hadn't come in yet, so he didn't know that we were to be under arrest today, held by the bondage of bureaucracy. Not that I really minded his absence at the moment. Don't get me wrong, the guy is great to have around in a pinch, but of the many things bipolar mood swings don't improve, filling out paperwork while blind features prominently.
That's why I was all alone (and in my office to begin with) when the perpetually down-on-his-luck detective Eridan burst into my office. "so you think youre pretty clevver, do you?" he asked sulkily while pretending not to sulk. By the smell of his appearance, I immediately deduced that he thought I had hit some sort of jackpot of a case. By the fact that I was in fact at that moment licking a paper form to read what it said, I deduced that he was wrong. Using the ancient logical art of the syllogism, I concluded that my long-standing presumption that he was a terrible detective needed no overhaul at this time.
Yeah, I really needed a case. >:[
That's why I decided to play it cool and pry whatever he was working on from his imminently pliably little brain. "H3H3H3... W3 BOTH KNOW HOW CL3V3R 1 4M. BUT 1 W4NT TO KNOW MOR3 4BOUT HOW CL3V3R *YOU* 4R3, D3T3CT1V3. WH4T CLU3 W4S 1T TH4T L3D YOU TO SOLV3 TH3 MYST3RY OF HOW CL3V3R T3R3Z1 TH1NKS SH3 1S?"
"dont play dumb wwith me, pyrope. wwe both knoww that im this beats big up-and-comer, wwhich is wwhy youre both afraid and jealous a me, so youre hidin the case that youre wworkin on in order to make sure i dont solvve it first."
I almost failed to resist feeling pity for the guy. "YOU 4R3 1ND33D CL3V3R, 3R1D4N, 4ND YOU KNOW W4Y MOR3 4BOUT TH1S C4S3 TH4N YOU SHOULD. 1'M 4CTU4LLY F1GHT1NG DOWN R3D F33L1NGS 4T TH1S 3X4CT MOM3NT." Always dangerous to play the flirty game with this guy. It never failed to work, but getting him to back off afterwards was a chore and a half. I was really desperate. "N3V3RTH3L3SS, 1 4M FULLY CONF1D3NT TH4T YOU KNOW NOTH1NG 3LS3 4BOUT MY TOP-S3CR3T-NO-3R1D4NS-4LLOW3D C4S3. YOU C4N L34V3 NOW."
At the mention of redrom, his gills perked up. Seriously, this guy was so easy. "wwait! you havvent evven scratched the surface a my knowwledge a your case! for example, i knoww that there wwas a murder." Nothing too strange about that, especially in this town. "i knoww that officer serket wwants the glory a solvvin this case to go to her." Run of the mill, though that did explain why the paperwork had all gone to me. "but the best part is that i personally knoww the only wwitness to the crime... me!" Another mystery solved! Detective Ampora had info on the case because of... dumb luck.
"G1V3 M3 4 MOM3NT TO COLL3CT MYS3LF, D3T3CT1V3... 1 SUDD3NLY C4N'T S33M TO STOP SWOON1NG."
"ahahaha! a course, i wwouldnt expect any different. noww that ivve had my big breakthrough, my bone bulge wwill become a hotly contested item. if you wwant a place in my reddest quadrant, youll wwant to get there early." Ugh. "but if you think youre impressed noww, wwait til i tell you about the murder itself. i wwas too far awway to see it clearly, but the murderer wwas not a normal troll. they wwere glowwin, and it looked like they wwere drinkin the vvictims blood!" Wait, what?
That sounded like one of those old Rainbow Drinker stories. Coming from anyone else, that would be absurd, but Detective Ampora was a notorious skeptic. This angle deserved a bit more probing, so I probed. "SUR3LY TH3 F4MOUS, CL3V3R, 4ND H4NDSOM3 3R1D4N - M4Y 1 C4LL YOU 3R1D4N? - H4S P13C3D TOG3TH3R TH3 R3ST OF TH3 TRUTH 4S W3LL. H4V3 YOU 4LR34DY F1GUR3D OUT TH4T TH3 MURD3R3R W4S 4 R41NBOW DR1NK3R?"
"nice try, pyrope! if thats the angler the force is usin, theres no wway you lot wwill solvve the case before me. as evveryone wwhos livved to reach their pupa stage knowws, rainboww drinkers are the most fakey fake fakery that evver had the audacity to not exist. no, i havvent solvved the case yet, but my keen detectivve gills wwill lead me inexorably and irretrievvably to the murderer, and im here to make sure you knoww that!"
He didn't think that the murderer was a Rainbow Drinker, so the unusual details of the case were probably not embellishments. What could this mean? This case smelled fishy, and not just because Detective Ampora was stenching up the office. I needed to get on it. But first, I had to ditch the romantically innervated detective.
"P3RH4PS YOU DON'T KNOW 4S MUCH 4BOUT TH3 C4S3 4S YOU THOUGHT YOU D1D, D3T3CT1V3. 1 C4N S4F3LY S4Y 4T TH1S PO1NT TH4T 4NY FLUSH3D F33L1NGS 1 M1GHT H4V3 F3LT 4R3 NOTH1NG BUT M3MOR13S. TOO B4D."
"but... but..." Was Ampora actually tearing up at that? "fine, play your mind games! im tellin you, though, i havve this case in the bag."
"NOT 4 CH4NC3, 3R1D4N. TH1S ON3 1S M1N3."
He smiled in his creepy I'm-your-friend-but-secretly-want-you kind of way. "wwell, maybe the reason youre denyin your obvvious feelings for me is that i havvent solvved the case yet. tell you wwhat, if i solvve the case before you, you gotta let me treat you to the reddest candlelight dinner youvve evver laid eyes... sorry, tongue on."
"4ND 1F 1 W1N, YOU H4V3 TO PROM1S3 TO N3V3R PROPOS1T1ON M3 4G41N." I knew it wasn't necessarily wise to burn the bridge like that, but I was starting to think that this guy wasn't worth the trouble, even when he occasionally did things right. Once I won (which I would), I'd be done with him, and I'd also have solved yet another case.
Eridan was trying to angle his glasses so that they did that thing with the light where you couldn't see his eyes, but it wasn't working for him. "its a date, then. and dont think youll be able to get any more information from the only wwitness to the crime, because that wwitness is on my side! ha ha ha ha!" He turned dramatically and stomped out of my office.
I looked at the mountains of paperwork in front of me. The Chief always said that papers didn't fill themselves out, but how could I know if he was lying unless I put it to the test? Besides, it wasn't time for filling out papers. It was time for justice.
My first step was to pay a visit to the medical examiner. >:]
In a dark, dreary, and stereotypically vampirey mansion, a sinister chuckle broke the foreboding silence. The Nefarious and Notorious Mr. Pupa watched with an ominous smirk as dozens of beings glided aimlessly around the room, pulsing with a light that stood in stark contrast to the darkness around them. "Everything is going according to plan," he mused portentously.
Well, one thing that strikes me right off the bat is that it's a little hard to read a fic made mostly of quirks. Just sayin'.
Anyways while I dislike completelyincompetent/pathetic!Eridan, I must admit that his attempt near the end to achieve Scary Shiny Glasses was hilarious.
Well, one thing that strikes me right off the bat is that it's a little hard to read a fic made mostly of quirks. Just sayin'.
Yeah, I figured it would be harder to read that way (although, amusingly, there was a spelling error I didn't catch until I quirkified the text). It's Terezi in first-person, and I want to capture her voice, but doing so at the expense of the reader is bad writing. How would you suggest I improve on my strategy here?
At least it's not Feferi or Gamzee in first-person, I guess. :P
Hmmm....maybe only using the quirk at/for specific points/phrases? Like when Terezi thinks something especially Terezi-ish. Wow this is really unspecific. This is just sort of going off how I have seen quirks used in non-pesterfics, specifically in A Hand In Holding Hands with the dialogue, where they generally talk normally but sometimes slip into color/quirk mode.
I think I'll read some more, and then edit as necessary. I do have the non-quirk version on hand, since that's what I wrote originally. In fact, I'll post it up there in addition to what I have. One sec...
-- EDIT --
Methods I'm considering:
Using quirks and color for dialogue only.
Using quirks for the whole thing and color for dialogue only
No quirks, no color
Color for the whole thing, quirks for dialogue only
-- EDIT --
In case this wasn't blindingly obvious by this point, lemme sum up what happened for those who are reading the thread archives.
I thought it would be a good idea to post an entire fic using quirks.
It turned out to not be that great an idea.
I added a non-quirk version.
I added a version with quirks in the dialogue but not anywhere else.
Well, usually the "no punctuation quirks" simply use line breaks as punctuation
(like I'm doing right now)
Which doesn't really work in dialogue format
Anyways I kinda had in my head something along the lines of quirks/color for dialogue as well as certain lines such as "a super-busy detective always bringing lowlifes to justice", "deduced", "logical art", "Once I won (which I would), I'd be done with him, and I'd also have solved yet another case"
Basically the kind of lines which characterize Terezi/she would attach importance to
But at this point I am micromanaging your fic so yeah go ahead and ignore me if you want
I am only draw, no write
I have no power over you
I am [__THIS__] close to animating a short episode of troll cops set to Nothing but Noir music. Already have a self contained idea and storyboard partially worked up. Just depends on how much time I'll have within the next month and what music I can find.
You may bet an overdraft of 100 extra tabs 'burrowed from the first interstellar bank of Galloglasses. Maximum borrow is 100 tabs. If you win by the bet you will owe Gallo the amount of tabs you burrowed. if you lose you still owe that same amount of tabs borrowed.
If you are in debt you may borrow again to attempt to bet your way out of debt.
Nothing can go wrong
Bets for Sam (and Rick) vrs Connie Cohen
25 on Connie (All-In)
10 on Sam
15 on Connie
25 on Sam, (All-In)
Fuade: -920 (gained 5 tab from sellng artwork.)
100 tab on CC, overdraft of 100
DS Piron: 10
No bets, Enslaved
115 on Sam, (All-In)
75 on Connie, (All-In, overdraft of 75)
Destruction Dragon 360: -59
No bets, Enslaved
No bets, Enslaved
No bets, Enslaved
15 on Sam CC (All-In)
Neopie: 215 (purchased item from fuade for 5 tab)
200 on Connie
Naesr Tazam: 25
All successful bets are doubled.
Unsuccessful bets are lost.
Overdrafts are owed to Gallo whether you win or lose
People who go ALL-IN stand to triple their winnings. And their losses.
I've modified it for quirked dialogue and non-quirked narration. This required a small overhaul of my code base, so I've posted that, too. Hopefully it's sufficiently non-crappy that someone else might opt to use it.
My (I think) biggest fic ever, and one of the few ones I actually feel good about.
It had been a long day for Eridan. He had just gotten dragged all over the city for a case, narrowly escaping from just about every two-bit crook in the city, and for what? Five hundred fucking boondollars. He sunk his head into his hands and sighed. At least he had been fortunate enough to get a free room at S.E.E.R. HQ. Why the hell that Rose girl was so interested in him was beyond him, something about those stupid Shards, but if it meant a hot shower and a bed to sleep in he was up for it. He stood up and began walking to his room, but a familiar, dreaded voice called him.
“Hey, Detectiwe, mail for you.”
He grunted and didn’t even face her as he addressed Maggie, “Howw many times do I havve to tell you, my name to stupid little kids like you is Mr. Ampora?”
Maggie scoffed and replied, “Whwhatewer, loser. You got mail.”
He hated how she imitated his accent when talking to it. If she was a troll, he would have taken her actions as a gesture of black romance, but alas, humans did not have the joys of the quadrant system. Also, that may have been considered pedophilia or child abuse, if judged by a troll or a human. Eridan snatched the letter out of Maggie’s hand and opened it to read. It was written in a flowery script, but it hooked Eridan as soon as he started reading.
I understand if you do not know who I am. I only knew you when you were quite young, back when you still lived with your father. What a strange life cycle you trolls have, even after living with you folk for my whole life I am still not used to- I am getting off topic. I tend to do that a lot. I have quite the imagination, you see, and sometimes what I am thinking ends up being written on paper. I knew your father; in fact, I was one of his closest friends and I had the pleasure of calling him my business partner. I understand you are following your father’s footsteps in the private eye business. Good for you! Unfortunately, I have also heard slander of your name even from the isolated area I live in. Apparently your sleuthing skills are not quite as keen as your father’s. I would like to rectify this situation at once. What I am proposing, Mr. Ampora, is that you come to the address listed below and learn to become a true private eye like your father before you.
With regards, PI”
Eridan almost dropped the letter in astonishment. PI? The legendary Pickle Inspector, one of the three who had stopped DMK over seventy years ago? He was still alive? And he wanted to teach him? Unfortunately, his astonishment was ended by Maggie, who had been reading over his shoulder.
“PI? That’s practically ancient history.”
“Hey, you shut your mouth you ungrateful squirt. If it wwasn’t for PI your little doomed timeline wwouldn’t havve had the opportunity to split in the first place. This city’d still be controlled by MK.”
“Yeah, yeah, relax. I know all about that. Anyways, I’m coming with you.” She shouldered the bag in which she contained all of her Magpie equipment.
“Comin? Howw do you evven knoww wwhere he is?”
“Because I can read past his signature, idiot.”
Eridan looked down at the letter again, where he now noticed an address right beneath his signature. He gasped. He turned to Maggie and said, “Like hell you’re comin. This is in the Lost District. And I ain’t lettin a kid in there, no matter howw much of a bitch she is.”
That seemed to be the wrong thing to say. Eridan blinked and Maggie’s sword was at his throat. “You saying that I can’t take care of myself? Besides, what else am I gonna do? I went to future school, so no reason for me to go to this one, vigilante work gets boring after a while, and I sure as hell don't want to sit around here all day.”
He swallowed but didn’t panic. He’d been in the same situation with nearly every criminal in the city. At one point even Andrew had held a key at Eridan’s head shouting “WHWHAT KIND A FRIEND INDEED” in his face. Instead, Eridan calmly looked Maggie in the eye and replied, “You wwanna come and get yourself killed, fine by me. Just knoww I wwon’t be responsible wwhen they find your corpse.”
Maggie backed down and stomped off to the elevator. Eridan looked down at the letter again then followed her. He was going to do this. It was actually happening. He would be taught by one of the best Private Eyes ever.
An hour later and Eridan was confused as hell. The location he had been told to go to appeared to not exist at all. He had found the two buildings with numbers on either side of his, but that one specific address was unfindable. Even Maggie had given up on trying finding it. Again, Eridan looked down at the letter. Was this just some sort of cruel prank? At wit’s end, he stormed out of the car, Maggie following, and slammed open the door of the building with the number one higher than his. To say he was surprised when the door opened of its own accord would be an understatement. Puzzled, the two looked at each other and then back at the door, then continued.
The building they had entered was a house. There were no cars in the driveway, and it had been long abandoned, as most of the Lost District had been. It was two stories tall, and the staircase to the second story was directly in front of Eridan. Separating him from the stairs was a huge gap in the floor that broke into the basement. There were no doors except the one he had came through, and the rest of the house lay beyond the gap.
Eridan stepped into the hole.
Maggie pulled him back, shouting “I knew you were crazy but not that much! Did you not notice the giant hole in front of you?”
Eridan replied, “A course I did. I also noticed wwhat you didn’t.” He stepped forward again. Maggie gasped as Eridan walked on air. Then Eridan reached down and knocked on the “hole”. “Wwhat I noticed wwas that this is a paintin. A damn good one, I gotta say.” He stepped forward, then turned around and asked, “Wwhat, you lost your eagerness?” Maggie took a breath and then walked across the floor painting.
Now they could see into the doors. One led to a living room, another to a kitchen/dining room, and the final one opened into a bathroom. Eridan walked into the bathroom, raised his gun, and shot. Again Maggie shouted, “What is wrong with you?” She stepped to Eridan’s point and let out a quiet “Oh.”
“I think it’s time you stop questionin my logic. This is definitely PI’s place. “
Eridan continued into the bathroom, where his gunshot had knocked off a shampoo bottle. Maggie knelt down and noticed that shampoo was a recent brand, which had tipped off Eridan instantly. When the shampoo fell, the pressure plate it was on had deactivated, opening a secret passage. The passage led into the ground.
As they walked, Eridan began mentally thinking about their position relative to the surface. This corridor seemed to end right at the next-door house. Unfortunately, the door up was blocked by, of all things, a bust of Ben Stiller. Maggie walked up to it and said, “Oh let me guess, this is made of Styrofoam and we can lift it with a finger.”
She reached to pick it up but was quickly jerked back by Eridan. Seeing her annoyed glare, he explained, “You had the right idea, but the wwrong material. It’s metal. Electrified metal. You wwoulda been fried if you had touched it,” Before she could ask, he continued, “Part of the stone-colored paint is chipped off, right there,” he pointed to a spot on the top of Stiller’s head that Maggie couldn’t see.
Immediately, Eridan jutted off to the left and walked through the wall, which turned out to be a curtain. Behind it was the real door.
Maggie was confused and mad. How was Eridan doing so well in finding all these traps and secrets? How many times had he been the one to lead her on like she was a bumbling child? This was the guy who couldn’t outwit a sleeping Clubs Deuce. She confronted him.
“Hey, before we go any further, you have questions to answer.” Eridan stopped and sighed. “Wwhat is it noww?”
“How are you doing so well? You noticed that floor painting as soon as we walked through the door, you identified that bottle of shampoo in a second flat, you could tell that Ben was electrified metal, and you just walked through the wall as if it looked like an exit door. What the hell is up with you?”
“I’vve got a mission, that’s wwhy. If PI’s here, then I’vve gotta find him.”
“With the rate you’re speeding through these traps,” Eridan opened the door and pulled out a knife to break the barely visible string on the other side, causing a cinder block to drop from the ceiling through the floor, “Like that. Looks like you won’t even need PI.” They came out of the passage into the next-door douse.
Eridan turned to the staircase leading to the second story and began walking up. He scoffed and said, “As if. Truth is I’m a pretty shitty detectivve. The jobs I get usually end wwith me in some sorta trap or other bad situation.”
“Shitty dectiwe- I mean detective? Are you kidding me? Just look behind you for a second. I would have never figured out any of those traps! I would still be back at the car, trying to find the address if I had been in your spot!”
At this, Eridan stopped climbing and turned around. “You realize you just complimented me, right?”
“The truth deserves to be pointed out.”
Both of them turned to face the unknown voice.
He was an ancient Prospitian-looking man, though his mouth was much more defined than most carapaces. He was also very tall, even with his back bent by age. Despite his wrinkles and baldness, he radiated an almost childlike enthusiasm. Both Eridan and Maggie knew without a doubt that this was him.
Eridan spoke first, “Oh my god, you’re actually here.”
“Yes. An old man like me has not many places to be.” Pickle Inspector rose from his seated position, his bones audible cracking as he did so. Eridan rushed to his side, but PI swatted him off.
“Please, Mister Inspector, let me help you. It’s the least I can do to help repay you for teaching me.”
PI looked blankly at Eridan. “Teaching? My boy, who ever said anything about teaching?”
Maggie butted in, “You did! In that letter you sent! Look I have it right here!” She fumbled in her bag before producing the letter, which PI took.
“Ah, let me look here. Here it is. My proposal: ‘What I am proposing, Mr. Ampora, is that you come to the address listed below and learn to become a true private eye like your father before you.’ As you can see, no mention of teaching.”
Eridan started, “It says right there, ‘learn to become a true privvate eye’!”
PI smiled and interrupted him, “Ah yes, it does say learning, does it not? But learning does not require a teacher. In fact, the best learning is through experience.”
“Experience? Not to be rude, Mr. Inspector, but wwhat the hell does experience have to do wwith this?”
“Quite a bit.” PI waved his hand in the direction of the staircase, “You did extremely well in my tests. I was watching the entire time.” He turned to a monitor with various screens on it. “It seems what your detractors say about you is complete lies.”
“Wwhat are you kiddin? I’m a no good detectivve. Half my cases end up wwith me havving to run like a scared grub!”
Pickle Inspector laughed, “Then in that case, you have a better ratio than your father. No, Eridan, no. You are an extremely talented man. I have invited other private eyes all over the city to a test not unlike this one, and none of them were able to get even close to me. You, I knew, were something different.”
Eridan let the words sink in then began to swell with pride. Before he could respond, however, Maggie again entered the conversation, “Oh you’re kidding me. This whole setup just for a ‘The power is inside you’ lesson? If I wanted that, I could have just stayed home and watched kids’ cartoons!”
Again PI chuckled and replied, “There’s a reason those morals are taught early. They more often than not turn out to be true. You, too, have some learning to do, young one. Fortunately, you will have a more directly accessible mentor than me.” PI gestured to Eridan.
“Him? My… my mentor? Ugh! Like hell I’m gonna learn from him! I’m going home, now.” And with that, she stormed downstairs to leave. PI immediately stood up again.
“You might want to stop her. The front door is trapped as well, to stop anyone from taking the easy way to see me.”
Eridan laughed with PI, and then went to stop Maggie. Before he left, he turned and said, “Mr. Inspector. I just wwant to thank you so much.”
PI smiled and raised his hand as if rejecting the compliment, “No no, no need to thank me. It’s only my job. Inspecting pickles and then solving them.”
Sollux was bored. Today had been an uneventful day, and the fact he had deskwork didn’t help that fact at all. The door to the police office opened. Inside walked Eridan. Sollux rolled his eyes and asked, “What ii2 iit now? You get arre2ted for sayiing a baby wa2 loiiteriing?”
Eridan smirked and responded, “Actually no. You’ll knoww this criminal for sure.” He waved his hand to someone outside that Sollux couldn’t see. When the black carapace came into the light, Sollux’s jaw practically hit the floor.
“No fuckiing way.”
Spades Slick didn’t even bother to look at Sollux or Eridan as he walked in with handcuffs around his wrists and deck in Eridan’s hand. “So the kid got lucky. Big deal. I’ll be outta here in an hour.”