And here is the brand spankin' new MSPA fanfic thread, numero cinco. I am pretty much just copy/pasting the last thread starter since hell if I know all the relevant links and such.
The Writing Critique Thread. Caveats: critiques are still certainly accepted here, and you should feel no obligation to post in the critique thread. It is available as an extra resource if you want your work to be really seriously torn into, though.
Some stipulations:
Rules throughout the rest of the fora are still in force here! To that end, no excessively gory or sexual fics are welcome here.
Pedophilia is also a big no-no (the biggest, I would go so far as to say). Specific comment by forum moderator Lexxy here:
Originally Posted by Lexxy
For clarification! Ectobiological baby-making between kid and/or trolls is technically safe by forum standards, so long as all that is involved in the process is straight up genetic cloning without the accompaniment of any suggestive actions. The implication of or outright depiction or description of the underage characters becoming pregnant or being sexually active is very much against the rules, no matter how tastefully or humorously it is done. Aging up the characters does not excuse this. I would also avoid broaching the subject of hitting puberty and the details thereof out of courtesy, as that can easily flirt with inappropriateness and can make others uncomfortable.
And, most importantly:
Originally Posted by Lexxy
If you guys are ever concerned that a fic you have written might be too violent or too suggestive or otherwise potentially inappropriate, don't hesitate to PM me! I'll give it a read and let you know what's up :3
Also, as I understand it, while explicit stuff is outright banned, fics that are a bit over the line on gore or innuendo can be linked to instead. You should probably still check with Lexxy if you're worried, though.
God I can't stay mad at Noir.
He's just.
He's like when a tiny puppy murders a squirrel and brings the corpse into your house as a present to you and it's wagging its tail and is SO PROUD of itself.
Then it goes into your house, tears your couch apart, and shits on all of your carpets.
Re: MSPA Fanfiction V: We're Going to Need More Wands
Originally Posted by Metaflare
Yaaaay *flails*
[delurk]
*joins the flailosity*
[/delurk]
Originally Posted by HarMegidon
I just am asking why she is selling sausages at a funeral.
Originally Posted by inexpediency
Everyone is a hedgehog...on the inside.
Originally Posted by Tesseract
On a deadness scale of normal to doorknob I would rate her as double doorknob
Originally Posted by Jitka
fuck yeah sodium hexametaphosphate
that is my favorite hexametaphosphate
Malakin:because its actually the truman show just with ponys
crash826:that
crash826:makes
crash826:far too much sense
gingerale:xD
Malakin:think about it
Malakin:it all makes sense
Originally Posted by Catbread
Those sound like some pretty badass park rangers.
Originally Posted by ranasan
Wow... it's like if someone managed to manifest Missingno. from Pokemon Red and Blue into the real world, grind it up into a fine powder and then snort it.
18:21 Girard so I learned something at the barber:
18:22 Daniel ?
18:22 Girard The entirety of England, London in particular, is actually a stage for the biggest production of the musical Oliver ever made.
18:22 Girard England is a giant musical.
18:22 Girard This explains the small children with cockney accents and giant hats who dance in the streets.
18:23 Daniel ...DAMN YOU MARY POPPINS!
18:23 Daniel DAMN YOU TO HELL!
He doesn't like the way his heart is thumping in his chest, erratic and loud, the way he can't take in any breaths to hum, to sing, to scream, to do anything.
Tavros doesn't like the way all he can feel is pain, his own weapon through his chest, he doesn't like the feel of adrenaline still rushing through his veins (a lot of good that turned out to be, he wants to think).
He really really doesn't like the way that he can't ask why, the way he can't even attempt to stutter out a simple enquiry, and he definitely doesn't like the way that her laugh echoes in his head.
All he can hear is this horrifying symphony of his body just ending, of his life's work coming to fruition in a way that doesn't even make him want to scream. He doesn't want to scream, (except in pain, hahah, but that's a different story) he just wants to sing sing sing the highest note he can manage, the lowest he could possibly emit, and produce the most rhythmic, fast, and intense beat he could possibly create.
He wants to make this happen but he can't even move.
All he hears is the erratic slowing slowing oh god it's slowing heartbeat in his ears, her laugh (oh how he wanted the malice to just go away couldn't we just talk why couldn't she just laugh with him hahahaha funny isn't it)...
Tavros thinks he hears crying way way in the back of his head but he quickly dismisses it, because who would cry for him?
Through his racing mind all Tavros can think is how this is the worst song he's ever heard, and he's heard some pretty bad songs. Again, he's distracted by a feeling of tipping and he contemplates trying to catch his balance but he's too busy trying to fend off the numbness that's nipping at the edge of his consciousness and oooh this isn't good.
(Why won't she stop laughing please stop laughing why won't you stop laughing)
One two three four, two two three four, three two three four, four two three four.
Drip, thump, HAH HAH, drip thump, HAH, drip drip THUMP THUMP it's all wrong, the rhythm is all off and he knows it, something is wrong here.
As Tavros falls, his vision suddenly black and static and black, he remembers humming in his recuperacoon on the edge of night and day, thinking. Thinking about what games he and Tinkerbull will play the next day, perhaps, or thinking of something he'd like to try next time he FLARPs, or perhaps contemplating something he will talk to a friend about when the sun sets again.
He doesn't remember what he was thinking about, but that's alright.
The beat stops.
If anyone is interested, here's a sort of preview or something. ;o Also planning on making a happy ending and a sad one, if there's actually anyone reading this.
Page: Wake
Tavros can hear the music now.
He doesn't know what it means, and he doesn't care. The way it moves, the way the figures around him slide, the way he floats amongst them, he doesn't understand or care.
Re: MSPA Fanfiction V: We're Going to Need More Wands
So, just watched Nanny McPhee. Still reeling from Eridans betrayal and Kanaya's unfortunate demise. Still barely sane by clinical standards. You can probably see where this is going.
That's right. First fic in the new thread: Homestuck/NannyMcPhee crossover.
With Eridan.
This ought to be fucking GOLD.
Troll Nanny McPhee
The Person You Need...
OPEN PESTERLOG
CA: fuckin landwwellers
CA: alwways in my fuckin wway
CA: im fuckin royalty here movve aside
CC: Well maybe t) (ey're busy or somet) (ing, -Eridan.
CA: not as busy as i am i mean i got shit to do to you knoww that better than anyone fef
CC: Well I know t) (at
CC: But you can be a bit of a aggressive guppy!
CA: yeah sure thats my birthright isnt it i mean wwhat am i supposed to do step aside
NP: The person you need is Nanny McPhee
CA: the hell
CC: W) (OA!
CC: 38O
CA: this isnt a memo, is it
CC: NOP-----E!
CC: IT'S MAGIC!
CA: like fuckin hell it is
CA: magic is a pile of wwhale droppins and you knoww it
CC: You know -Eridan you s) (ould probably see w) (at t) (is is about!
CC: If somebody says see Nanny McP) (ee and t) (ey USE MAGIC to do it you s) (ould listen! 3
CA: you just wwant to see wwho this nanny is
CA: no you just wwant to see me get my ass kicked
CC: BY A GIRL! 3XD
CA: yeah sure fef wwhatevver you say
CC: Glub. 38|
CA: no fuckin wway
CC: 38(
CA: no dont make that face it wwont wwork anymore
CC: 38(
CA: comeon fef that isnt goin to
CC: 38(
CA: fine
CC: 38D
CA: wwomen
OPEN TYPELOG
So, you caught wind of the Sgrub players, I guess.
NP: I am a knowledgeable lady
I suppose.
Although I can't say I particularly enjoy what you are doing. It's going to take a significant amount of replanning to get the desired results out of a reformed Eridan Ampora.
NP: Terribly sorry
NP: It is my job
I suppose so.
NP: I suspect I shall have quite a time with this one
And his friends as well.
I think Miss Serket in particular will be a problem.
She will be loathe to have Eridan be anything but horrible.
NP: That is not my problem
NP: If Miss Serket interferes, she underoges the same treatment
NP: You know that
Indeed
NP: By the way, William, have you been eating your vegetables
There are few substances, vegetable or otherwise, that I have consumed of late.
NP: Hmm
But
I have kept my intake at a acceptable balance, I am pleased to say
And you were correct, it has been helping with my strength.
NP: Might I suggest importing them
I do not think the Trolls would be delighted to find a god hidden away on their homeworlds moon.
NP: No
NP: They would not
NP: Very well
And, Nanny...
NP: Hmm
Do take care of my little girl, Her last name is Maryam.
I'd rather her not get the brunt of your disfavor.
NP: I would hope she would not do anything to deserve it
But if you harm Miss Serket, she will grow to dislike you. I cannot vouch for her temper when she is fighting for a friend.
NP: I will go easier on her
NP: To a point
I wouldn't expect any less Nanny
NP: Take care
I will
Doc Scratch sighed and scratched the back of his large head. That poor, poor sod.
Jack doesn't know why he bothered to spare the boy. In his heart of hearts, however, he suspects that it was the small spark of recognition he felt. Regicide as a defining act of violence, after all, is something he is perfectly familiar with. The little troll seems to be taking it badly, alternating between practising his wand skills, brow grimly furrowed, and weeping bitter indigo tears into his scarf. He's weeping more for the child he used to be than the child he killed.
What Eridan doesn't understand is that certain acts have the power to change who you are forever, to melt you down and bring you back reforged, tempered, adamant and impermeable. The machinations of Skaia made him kill the woman he loathed, and he will make himself into a weapon to rend space and time until he can avenge her. If taking on a whiny overpowered kid can help to fuck with the game's hierarchy, he's willing to give it a try.
Doesn't mean he doesn't want to strangle the boy every time he hears his goddamn sniffling though.
"You killed her dreamself," says the kid suddenly. They are resting on a meteor in the Veil, space-dust falling around them like ashes. These are the first words he has spoken all day.
"Did I?" says Jack, rolling his eyes, "Don't remember. Probably."
"She told me," he says, "W-well, she told that fuckin' duplicitous lowblood an' maybe I overheard. Oh god, I'm so pathetic."
"Don't make me cut you again," says Jack.
"You slaughtered her," says Eridan, "You murdered half of her. I w-would have kissed her. Like she did with- she would have come back. You're just as responsible as I am."
"Yeah, you keep tellin' yourself that, kid."
"She was terrified," he says, "He was- I wanted to be the one to comfort her. She could've - after everythin' I did for her - how can you be so fuckin' calm about it?" His voice is dull, the words tripping over each other as if he knows how inadequate they sound.
Jack shrugs. "You thought I was a nice guy? Least she didn't call me a friend."
"Fuck you," says Eridan, tears starting in his eyes again. His face is permanently stained with them now, blotches the colour of gall smeared down his cheeks.
"Pull yourself together before I snap that neck for you," Jack growls, "I thought you were some kinda special wizard."
"I am!" he says, sitting up and wiping his eyes, "Better fuckin' wizard than you know."
"Uhuh." Jack smirks.
"Better than that cold bitch Rose," says Eridan, turning his wand from hand to hand as though testing how far he can twist it before it breaks, "Like she knows fuckin' anythin'."
"Funny thing," says Jack, "You're payin' her a visit soon."
* * *
It had been easy enough for Scratch to arrange for Jack to send the boy after Rose. A brief flutter of lilac light at the edge of his vision, the faintest whisper of suggestion that it would be an interesting symmetry, and most appealing of all the idea that this would leave Jack free to pursue the Heir Transparent currently wreaking havoc with his plans.
A few explanatory messages to Rose and the streak of jade-green blood splashed across Eridan's scarf will do the rest.
* * *
Jack picks Eridan up by the scruff of his neck and drops him into the sea of the Land of Light and Rain, before teleporting away. The cold salt water stings and Eridan thrashes helplessly for a few moments, thinking I can't swim I can't swim before realising the ocean is still and shallow and the white-sand beach lies only a few feet away.
He struggles to the shore, soaked to the bone with freezing water but glad there's nobody here to witness this embarrassing scene. His glasses are cracked from the impact and he doesn't even care. He imagines himself, a hard-bitten and powerful sorceror, rising from the waves to enact his revenge, wielding a wand of justice and-
- the white fire has a sharp explosive smell, and sparkles like ground glass, and it can punch through a teenager's chest like a blade ripping through canvas -
- if Rose had agreed to teach him instead of blowing up his fucking computer before she even got to know him, maybe he wouldn't be in this fix. If Karkat had actually paid him any attention instead of spending all his time tolerating his stupid blind girlfriend. If Gamzee had been a friend and ally like he was supposed to be instead of corrupting his unworthy indigo blood with slime and sugar - if Sollux hadn't rubbed it in his goddamn face, lying there in the middle of the room and secretly laughing at him - if Kanaya hadn't got in his fucking way -
God, but the loneliness is unbearable sometimes. Nothing but his own voice bouncing back off the inside of his skull. He wants to crumple to the ground and hold his face in his hands. Let the bitter waters wash over him and he will be absolved.
He remembers what Jack said - life fucks you over, you fuck it right back - and stands up straighter. He will be resilient and undaunted, like any great general. Wizard. Scientist. Pirate king. Whatever he is now. He will maintain his composure and leave the emotional theatrics to the helpless child who died on the meteor beside his true love.
"Excuse me," says a cool voice, "Who are you?"
A girl is floating in the air beside him. Her black dress flutters in the wind. Has she been spying on him, lying there weeping?
"My name's E-Eridan Ampora," he says, clutching his wand grimly.
"Oh," she says, casting her eyes to the sky, "You."
Another one who can't even get to know him before curling her lip in disgust. He supposes it's only what he deserves now.
"Yes, me, what's that supposed to fuckin' mean?"
"Without wishing to surrender my composure to melodramatic platitudes, I think it means that I'm going to kill you."
A/N
My god but Eridan is fun to write. This means I get to blame the over-dramatic style I apparently tend towards on him being a whiny little bastard.
PS ending on a cliffhanger because I am a terrible person
Last edited by Kassiopeia; 01-29-2011 at 08:38 PM.
Jack doesn't know why he bothered to spare the boy. In his heart of hearts, however, he suspects that it was the small spark of recognition he felt. Regicide as a defining act of violence, after all, is something he is perfectly familiar with. The little troll seems to be taking it badly, alternating between practising his wand skills, brow grimly furrowed, and weeping bitter indigo tears into his scarf. He's weeping more for the child he used to be than the child he killed.
What Eridan doesn't understand is that certain acts have the power to change who you are forever, to melt you down and bring you back reforged, tempered, adamant and impermeable. The machinations of Skaia made him kill the woman he loathed, and he will make himself into a weapon to rend space and time until he can avenge her. If taking on a whiny overpowered kid can help to fuck with the game's hierarchy, he's willing to give it a try.
Doesn't mean he doesn't want to strangle the boy every time he hears his goddamn sniffling though.
"You killed her dreamself," says the kid suddenly. They are resting on a meteor in the Veil, space-dust falling around them like ashes. These are the first words he has spoken all day.
"Did I?" says Jack, rolling his eyes, "Don't remember. Probably."
"She told me," he says, "W-well, she told that fuckin' duplicitous lowblood an' maybe I overheard. Oh god, I'm so pathetic."
"Don't make me cut you again," says Jack.
"You slaughtered her," says Eridan, "You murdered half of her. I w-would have kissed her. Like she did with- she would have come back. You're just as responsible as I am."
"Yeah, you keep tellin' yourself that, kid."
"She was terrified," he says, "He was- I wanted to be the one to comfort her. She could've - after everythin' I did for her - how can you be so fuckin' calm about it?" His voice is dull, the words tripping over each other as if he knows how inadequate they sound.
Jack shrugs. "You thought I was a nice guy? Least she didn't call me a friend."
"Fuck you," says Eridan, tears starting in his eyes again. His face is permanently stained with them now, blotches the colour of gall smeared down his cheeks.
"Pull yourself together before I snap that neck for you," Jack growls, "I thought you were some kinda special wizard."
"I am!" he says, sitting up and wiping his eyes, "Better fuckin' wizard than you know."
"Uhuh." Jack smirks.
"Better than that cold bitch Rose," says Eridan, turning his wand from hand to hand as though testing how far he can twist it before it breaks, "Like she knows fuckin' anythin'."
"Funny thing," says Jack, "You're payin' her a visit soon."
* * *
It had been easy enough for Scratch to arrange for Jack to send the boy after Rose. A brief flutter of lilac light at the edge of his vision, the faintest whisper of suggestion that it would be an interesting symmetry, and most appealing of all the idea that this would leave Jack free to pursue the Heir Transparent currently wreaking havoc with his plans.
A few explanatory messages to Rose and the streak of jade-green blood splashed across Eridan's scarf will do the rest.
* * *
Jack picks Eridan up by the scruff of his neck and drops him into the sea of the Land of Light and Rain, before teleporting away. The cold salt water stings and Eridan thrashes helplessly for a few moments, thinking I can't swim I can't swim before realising the ocean is still and shallow and the white-sand beach lies only a few feet away.
He struggles to the shore, soaked to the bone with freezing water but glad there's nobody here to witness this embarrassing scene. His glasses are cracked from the impact and he doesn't even care. He imagines himself, a hard-bitten and powerful sorceror, rising from the waves to enact his revenge, wielding a wand of justice and-
- the white fire has a sharp explosive smell, and sparkles like ground glass, and it can punch through a teenager's chest like a blade ripping through canvas -
- if Rose had agreed to teach him instead of blowing up his fucking computer before she even got to know him, maybe he wouldn't be in this fix. If Karkat had actually paid him any attention instead of spending all his time tolerating his stupid blind girlfriend. If Gamzee had been a friend and ally like he was supposed to be instead of corrupting his unworthy indigo blood with slime and sugar - if Sollux hadn't rubbed it in his goddamn face, lying there in the middle of the room and secretly laughing at him - if Kanaya hadn't got in his fucking way -
God, but the loneliness is unbearable sometimes. Nothing but his own voice bouncing back off the inside of his skull. He wants to crumple to the ground and hold his face in his hands. Let the bitter waters wash over him and he will be absolved.
He remembers what Jack said - life fucks you over, you fuck it right back - and stands up straighter. He will be resilient and undaunted, like any great general. Wizard. Scientist. Pirate king. Whatever he is now. He will maintain his composure and leave the emotional theatrics to the helpless child who died on the meteor beside his true love.
"Excuse me," says a cool voice, "Who are you?"
A girl is floating in the air beside him. Her black dress flutters in the wind. Has she been spying on him, lying there weeping?
"My name's E-Eridan Ampora," he says, clutching his wand grimly.
"Oh," she says, casting her eyes to the sky, "You."
Another one who can't even get to know him before curling her lip in disgust. He supposes it's only what he deserves now.
"Yes, me, what's that supposed to fuckin' mean?"
"Without wishing to surrender my composure to melodramatic platitudes, I think it means that I'm going to kill you."
A/N
My god but Eridan is fun to write. This means I get to blame the over-dramatic style I apparently tend towards on him being a whiny little bastard.
PS ending on a cliffhanger because I am a terrible person
I love the bit where Rose curls her lip in disgust. The image is so vivid and wonderful.
FINISH IT! Unless you don't plan to, in which case I'll break the sacred oath I made against writing fanfiction three years ago and write my own continuation of it.
Re: MSPA Fanfiction V: We're Going to Need More Wands
I was just thinking: there are so many Jacks. The ones we've seen made out okay. What about the ones who ended up in more dire straits?
Well...
For The Queen:
Jack had removed the costume. If he was going to die, it would be as himself, with none of the trappings of potted plants or pirates or poodles or whatever else the little monsters chucked into the kernels.
The sounds of battle were getting closer. He’d been able to hear the occasional burst of a cannon for half an hour, but now he could also make out the pained sounds of ionized air and the wet snicks of steel blades. Even with the entire population of Derse rushing the party, they could not be held off for long. Low-level grunts inflicted no damage at all. And anyone with the ability to make the heroes sweat was already in the room with Jack.
His group was the last line of defense. Jack looked over them again. Clerks and bureaucrats mostly, but Dersians one and all. Born to fight, to the death if necessary.
He explained the plan to the troops again. They weren’t fighting to win. Simple math dictated that they would all die, leaving their opponents free to face the Queen in the chambers beyond. Their job consisted of attrition: they had to make the enemy use up powerful one-shot items, reveal hidden abilities, and activate temporary bonuses. They had to exhaust and wound. If opportunity to kill one of the players presented itself, they were to take it, but it wasn’t a priority.
For a moment, Jack flirted with the idea of switching sides. Just start loping the Brutes’ heads off when the party broke in. Regretfully, he dismissed it. Most likely they would just see the situation as Jack trying to rob them of their grist. Perhaps if things had been different…then again, perhaps not. No matter how much he might hate it, Jack had always done his duty. He wasn’t going to stop at this point.
The door cracked and splintered, falling to pieces. The players strode in confidently. They wore frog costumes. Were they trying to mock them? Did they believe they would be afforded some advantage? Were they right? No matter. Jack lifted his sword to order the counterattack.
And got nailed by one of the players.
The next several seconds were a blur – which is to say everyone else turned into a blur, save for a few other Agents. The rest of his horde was a shifting, moving mass of black, shot through with streaks of green where the players had been. Four seconds was all it took for the green to sweep through the black, leaving nothing behind.
With a wrench, things returned to normal, and Jack found himself face-to-face with the party, all alone aside from five other black carapaces, still as stone. Presumably, their time was slowed as his own had been. They were trapped by their own perception – useless for anything.
The players did not realize he was free yet. That would cost them.
Jack’s movement was too swift for them. Let them see what a Archagent can do when not affected by the power of Time. The sword went through the nearest player – once, twice, three times. After the third, Jack found himself knocked away by a gust of wind. Looking up, he found all the surviving members pointing their legendary weapons straight at him.
Well, they could do their worst. He had done his duty.
Re: MSPA Fanfiction V: We're Going to Need More Wands
Oh wow, I didn't even notice how close to the end the last one was getting. So for this one is shaping up great guys!
Maybe I'll actually post some writing in this one sometime XD
Re: MSPA Fanfiction V: We're Going to Need More Wands
Good news on the progress of GENDERBENT.
All characters have been named.
And trolltags will be made when necessary, because fuck it all if they really matter more than reflecting their interests.
Expect stuff from me soon.
But what
is anyone's guess.
Re: MSPA Fanfiction V: We're Going to Need More Wands
Originally Posted by Portalboat
how do you guys get the ideas for your fanfics?
For me it usually comes from seeing various things.
Some stories have elements to them that are based on others.
Occasionally an idea is inspired by a single drawing, other times it is inspired by a single sentence.
It all depends on your imagination.
God I can't stay mad at Noir.
He's just.
He's like when a tiny puppy murders a squirrel and brings the corpse into your house as a present to you and it's wagging its tail and is SO PROUD of itself.
Then it goes into your house, tears your couch apart, and shits on all of your carpets.
Re: MSPA Fanfiction V: We're Going to Need More Wands
Mostly I am always thinking of things that would be funny, summarize those ideas, and starting tapping away. You'd be amazed at how much comedic mileage you can get out of "Karkat yelling at people".
Originally Posted by XFactorInfinity
I really, really hate the way you type. That's an impossibly mean thing to be honest about, but it's true, and I wanted you to know it. It's nothing against you, and I'm sure you're a pretty okay person, I think?
But the way you string sentences together sounds like a mad libs from a buffy factory took all of the worst parts of the nineties and internet culture and condensed it into an impossibly unpleasant grammatical structure. It's like what an intern at Game Bro Magazine writes like, probably. Before editing. It has so much bullshit, why I gotta read -Benedict try to form a coherent sentence dude