Mary Sue - SOS!

WTF? Fanfiction

Wed, 29 Nov 2006 16:51:15 GMT

Staff - please delete this if it is too off-topic.

WTF? Fanfiction

wtffanfiction is a new community dedicated to laughable fanfiction and the people who love it. It's a catharsis of laughter from fictions that include Bad Porn, Major OOCs, Crackfiction, and more, all with a healthy dose of snark.

The community is rated PG-13 at face value, but to see the higher rated stuff you must befriend. I do not plan on changing this as Livejournals can be potentially accessed through Google. I am currently looking for mods who would be interested in helping out. If you would like to become a mod, please contact me from the following contacts.

AIM me at Second Cerebus
MSN me at theaugurey@hotmail.com

Mon, 22 May 2006 12:15:26 GMT

Title: To the End of Night

Fandom: Lord of the Rings

A Link to the story: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/2846389/1/

Rating: T, for the moment.

Status: WIP

Summary: A night like any other brings together two unlikely companions: a vampire hunter chasing its latest query and an escaped prisoner whose situation suddenly goes from bad to worse. The aftermath sets in motion a chain of events neither of them expected, although as they unfold the prisoner’s greatest wish may yet be fulfilled.

Explanation: This is a crossover with the 'Blade' and 'BTVS' universe. It contains OCs and I would like to know if they are believable and if anyone in the original LOTR cast is behaving out of character. Of course, if a Mary Sue is present (which is a possibility), feel free to say so. Any tips to improve the quality of my writing would be deeply appreciated.

Considering how English is my second language, any helpful tips on how to improve my grammar, spelling and so on, would also be welcome.

The LOTR universe is somewhat AU, since I'm using a blend of book and movie cannon.

Sample: (probably too long, sorry) A faint groan drew their attention and they both turned to see the orc begin to stir. He turned on his back suddenly and began to sit up. Kalista was above him in an instant and shoved at his chest with her foot forcefully, forcing the creature back down. He, at least Gwenneth guessed it was a he, took one look at them and cursed in a guttural, foul language. It was the tongue of Mordor and it hurt her ears to hear it spoken. Kalista did not seem bothered at all by it.
“I didn’t quite get that. Gwen, do you speak this language? We need to be able to communicate with him. Ask him where the exit is.”
The Lόrien elf shook her head, the very notion of speaking a syllable of the foul tongue making her almost physically ill. The orc spat on the ground and spoke again, this time in the Common tongue.
“I understand fine. A man-brat and a she-elf. Bugger me sideways! I ain’t tellin’ you whelps nothing.”
Gwenneth saw Kalista smile thinly at that and a shiver ran down her spine at the sight. She was a vampire after all and could be very frightening when she wished to be. Even the orc took note of it and tried to edge away from her. She just pressed at his chest harder and he stopped moving, wincing in pain.
“There are two ways to do this, the easy way and the hard way. Now, the hard way involves torture, pain and blood by the buckets.” She applied more pressure to the orc’s ribcage. “The easy way involves… less of the former. The end result is going to be the same. You are going to tell me what I want to know. So what do you say we skip the interrogation and get straight to the good bits? Before I get bored and do something… unpleasant.”
The orc sneered, showing a mouthful of rotting teeth.
“You ain’t got the guts for that girlie. I’d bet my last piece of man-flesh you’d faint at the first sight of blood. You sun lovin’ dogs don’t have the stomach for it. Snaga nar baj lufut. That goes double for you elf-Kurv…”
Paling at his talk of eating the flesh of men, Gwenneth closed her eyes, feeling nauseous. Before he could finish the sentence she heard Kalista punch him in the face. Something broke. She opened her eyes in time to see him spit out blood and a broken tooth, glaring at the half breed. She sighed theatrically and kicked him in the gut hard; he tried to curl into a ball. For an instant, the she-elf almost pitied the creature. Almost.
“That would be first blood. And look, I’m still standing.” Grabbing him by the throat suddenly, she hauled him to his feet and inched their faces closer together. Gwenneth marveled at how she didn’t even flinch when he tried to bite at her cheek, just slapped him away and continued talking. “Where are we? Where is the exit? How many of you inhabit this dank cave and how do I avoid running into you? Answer these and maybe, just maybe, I’ll let you keep your miserable life.”
To Gwenneth’s surprise, the orc laughed. The sound was as harsh as the creature that produced it. Kalista did not seem to be amused by it. Between fits of laugher he managed to choke out a few sentences.
“Ha! The man-brat doesn’t know where she is! You and the elf-bitch must ‘ave been blind, deaf and dumb to wind up in the Dark Pit without knowin’ it.”
The elf’s breath caught in her throat as he mentioned a name she was familiar with. Fear coursed through her.
“Moria! We are in the mines of Moria!”
The orc stared at Gwenneth and nodded mockingly. It was as close to a nod as he could manage with Kalista’s hand wrapped tightly around his throat.
“Aye, wench. Moria. And don’t think there ain’t many of us here. Soon, they’ll find you and then you’ll be begging for…” he choked as she tightened her hold on him, cutting off his air supply. Kalista watched him gasp for breath for what seemed like forever and then dropped him on the ground. Leaning over him, she placed a small knife at the base of his throat.
“You may be right. They may find us, but I don’t see how that will mean much to you, considering you’ll be maggot food by then. You get me? Where is the exit?”
He stubbornly remained silent. Almost casually, she reached for his hand and broke one of his fingers. The orc made a pained sound in the back of his throat but did not cry out. Gwenneth searched Kalista’s face for any sign she was enjoying the creature’s pain and was unnerved to see an almost delighted half smile playing on her lips.
“Where’s the exit?” she repeated. When more silence followed, she broke his second finger. This time the orc cried out and cursed loudly in the Black tongue.
“Afar Vadokanuk!”
The beast of Morgoth regarded Kalista with something akin to grudging respect. Gwenneth’s skin crawled at the sight. Truly, he and all of his kind were twisted, horrible creatures and suddenly, any pity she might have felt for him was gone. He looked around before speaking.
“You ‘ave some spunk in you for a tree-hugger girlie. Aye, I know where the exit be. But there ain’t no way you’d be getting’ to it just by my direction. I’d need to take you there.”
The elf froze at that, appalled. Traveling with a vampire, no matter how often she rescued her, was bad enough but walking in the company of that traitorous, foul creature was out of the question. He could not be trusted and would turn on them as the first opportunity presented itself. Kalista must have had thoughts along the same line because she laughed and shook her head at the orc’s suggestion, looking wildly amused.
“By all means, do feel free to lead us to our gruesome deaths. We would be happy to follow you around and gape stupidly as your friends come and slaughter us.” She punched him again and his head reeled back from the blow. Blood trickled from his nose. “How retarded do you think I am? Why would I agree to this?”
The orc laughed again and managed to duck his head before her foot made contact with his face. “Because you ain’t got no other choice. You think you and the whelp can find your way out on your own? Ha! This is the Dark Pit youngling and it’s called that for a reason. Even some of the Uruks get lost ‘ere. Take a chance on trustin’ me or die here in the dark. It’s up to you manling.”
To Gwenneth’s horror, she looked as if she was actually considering it. The elf drew closer, reaching for her arm and spoke.
“No! You can not allow this filth to guide our steps. He will betray us as surely as the sun will rise in the morn. He is not to be trusted.”
He eyed the Lόrien elf with disgust. “No one’s talking to you Lulgijak,” he spat and lunged at her, temporarily escaping the warrior’s grasp. Gwenneth drew back, terrified. Kalista pushed him back on the ground and punched him again as a warning. He stopped moving and eyed her warily. She pointed at the she-elf and spoke.
“My friend here has a point. Why should I trust you? And note I feel like an idiot just for saying that.”
The orc shrugged, glancing at Gwenneth darkly before answering. “The way I figure it, I’m dead either way. If I don’t show you to the exit, you kill me. If me mates catch up with us, they’ll kill me for bein’ stupid enough to get ambushed by a stinkin’ man-brat. For me to keep breathing, I neads to get you two out of the mines. You don’t kill me and we’ll be best mates till I shove you out of the Pit. Then you go your way and I go mine. How’s that work for you girlie?”
Kalista stared at the creature intently for quite some time with a strange look on her face before nodding reluctantly. Gwenneth’s stomach clenched in fear at the thought of an orc in her close proximity for an extended period of time but she realized they had no other choice. She did not doubt the creature was right when he said they had no chance of finding the way out on their own. She knew Moria to be vast.
Kalista released him and he stood up, stretching his limbs. “All right. Lead the way. I’ll be keeping both eyes on you. On the first sign of trouble, you’re a corpse. Got it?”
The orc smiled disturbingly, licking his lips.
“Aye, wench. I got it.”

Sun, 02 Apr 2006 11:16:55 GMT

Title: MarySuing It

Fandom: Harry Potter

A Link To The Story: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/2867809/1/

Age Rating: M for coarse language and horror themes

Summary: It was an idea I got after reading so many self-insertion stories in which the writter would create an avatar of themselves to exist in the alternative universe. But rather than being realistic about it, they would instead grant themselves awesome powers and popularity in the other universe and disrupt/unbalance the fan-world in which they were narrating. It always annoyed me, so I wrote my own 'self-insertion' fan-fic. But instead of a character that was perfect/fantastic/loved by all, my avatar was a close resembance to myself (but not too close, of course!) with all the imperfections included.
The main character in this story doesn't get to meet the main heros in Harry Potter; really, there's no possible way you could! I'm going by the logic that anyone going from our universe into theirs would remain as muggle-like as they are here. Which means no enrolment into Hogwarts, no going on the Hogwarts Express and no meeting Harry and his pals.

Explanation: I haven't had any reveiws on the site where it's posted, so I've no idea if the lack of reviews is because the story is boring or just unread. I'm interested in knowing how well the story flows (or doesn't) and whether or not it keeps the attention of the reader.

Summary:

This is a piece from the first chapter, a few paragraphs in...

There was another flash of light among the screaming and my intuition pulled urgently at my consciousness from the depths of my mind. If I hadn’t been sore, cold and confused I probably would have heeded it. But in my bafflement I made the incredibly stupid mistake of moving closer towards the source of the light and screams, all the while crouching low in the shadows.

As I neared the mouth of the alleyway there was a loud boom and a rumble along the ground under my feet and smoke bellowed out from around the corner of the building when I stood, flooding into the alleyway and surrounding me. I coughed violently, my lungs tightening as my asthma kicked in, and scrambled backwards to get away from the smoke. Blinded now, and keeping my head low, I clung to the side of the alley wall as I moved further away from the city street into the shadows. My eyes stung and ran with tears and my sinuses burned from the acrid, chemical smell all around me. I slumped down onto the cold, concrete floor and tried to suck clean air into my lungs. I coughed and wheezed, my airway feeling tight in my chest and my vision blurring.

Then I heard movement in front of me. The steady sounds of footsteps under the cacophony of panicked yells and terrified wailing; and now the distant booms of explosions. The air around me cleared suddenly, as though the smoke had been blasted away by a sudden strong wind. And walking calmly down the alleyway, with what I first assumed was a torch in one hand, was a hooded figure.

Light shone directly into my face, blinding me and leaving bright spots in front of my eyes when it was finally moved away. Over the sound of my own wheezing I heard the figure chuckle to itself.

“What have we here?” asked an irritatingly teasing and thoroughly masculine voice. “What are you doing in here, little muggle? Why aren’t you out there, having fun with the rest of the muggles?”

I heard him moving closer and tried to stand up on my trembling legs, but found I couldn’t. I cursed my asthma is the privacy of my own head. The man was clearly insane! Muggles? What the hell! Maybe he was some sort of demented lunatic who was in some sort of Harry Potter cult? That explained the explosions; the son-of-a-bitch probably thought he was a freakin’ Deatheater, or some such nonsense. He and his group must have set something up, planted bombs and fireworks about the place to make themselves feel as though they were really in the Hogwarts’ Universe, while they marched around pretending to be dark-wizards. The mere idea set my teeth on edge. Stupid arseholes! Stupid fad-Nazis ruined everything! I could just see JK Rowlings getting the blame for this bastard’s actions, just like so many musicians and moviemakers copped the blame for any shit-head who went out and brutally murdered people and dedicated the killings to a song or movie.

“F’k off.” I wheezed. He was probably going to kill me, but he wasn’t going to hear me beg first!

I heard him laughing and then suddenly I was in agony. Every nerve in my body was engulfed with pain. My skin felt like it was being paper-cut across every tiny inch of it, while at the same time being stabbed repetitively with needles. I could barely breathe; my lungs were seising-up like I had been winded, while the waves of excruciating agony hit me again and again. My back was against the cold concrete now, the muscles in my body contracting and squeezing involuntarily; the corse surface underneath me raking across any exposed skin as I spasm and twitched. And all I could think amidst the pain was: Tazer! He’s hit me with a fucking tazer! That cowardly shit!

The Fic

Tue, 10 Jan 2006 06:15:24 GMT

In all its glory. All two chapters of its glory. All two chapters in which, admittedly, not much has happened yet in the way of explaining what in tarnation is going on, but that's one of my many and awful weak points.

This is a post with dual purpose. One is to say:

Look! I have got off my lazy butt and actually written something! Actually, I wrote it while sitting on my butt, but it was not being lazy! What fun!

And, that done, my second reason is to get y'all to check it over. So, here we go:

Title: True Continuum Police: File One (Not snappy. Not fun. Not even filed correctly, as this should be under Thursday Next not Harry Potter)

Fandom: Sort-of Thursday Next but not really. The TCP are a sister-agency of Jurisfiction.

A Link To The Story: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/2736859/1/

Age Rating: Er, PG? The main character swears a bit, but then again so do most kids I know O.O

Explanation: I should write more. But I don't. So when I do, I go mad and try to tell everyone. Except people I actually know IRL, as that is embarrassing. Also, of course, so that as (fingers crossed) the story progresses, Janet doesn't sneakily get so freakin' awesome that Miss Janet pales beside her. Miss Janet comes in later. I haven't written her yet (except in my head. I expect she wants out by now).

It's Make-A-Sue Day*!

Thu, 22 Dec 2005 08:32:37 GMT

* Or week, or month. It's Make-A-Sue Indeterminate Period Of Time!

So, I'm writing a story where the main charcter gets sucked into a fan fiction. But I cannot for the life of me think of something bad enough to call this awful fic. I could probably wrangle up a decent (read: eye-poppingly terrible) Sue to stick in it, but I need help with the title and maybe a smidgen of a plot.

So, why wait? Forget about tweaking your own lovely characters and splurge out on a great fat Sue for me!

Uh... Help?

Sun, 22 May 2005 07:55:24 GMT

Story Title: Music In the Heart ( http://www.fanfiction.net/s/1794035/1/

Fandom: Lord of the Rings

Author: SaxiActingChick05

Rating: T Status:

WIP Summary: Summary: Once again, a girl has fallen into Middle-Earth, but this time she is a clueless musician from Kansas. You know, that state in the middle US. (*Giggles* Get it?!.. *looks around* nevermind....) And she gets more than she bargins for. *I am admiting it... She is a Mary Sue (me thinks)

Explanation: I think Shae is a sue.. But I kinda don't want her to be. I mean.. I wrote this.. when I was extermly bored and knew what a sue was but.. after reading horrible sue fics, I decided that I need help!

Tue, 19 Apr 2005 18:36:57 GMT

I don't have anything written out for this yet, but I wanted some advice before starting, please.

Title: The Omue Chronicles (Blade of the Moon, Fist of Vengeance, The Last Great Legion [possibly working title])

Fandom (If appropriate): Original fic (slightly steampunkish anime-inspired fantasy with a setting loosely based on the golden age of piracy, which I swear actually makes more sense than you’d think. O.0;; )

Link: None... none of the stories are finished. (That'll teach me to work on all three parts of a trilogy at once.) If you need any extracts I may be able to upload relevant bits to my LJ, but like I said, I need guidance with this bit before I write anything more. Also, since this only concerns two characters, rather than the entire story...

Age Rating: I'm not 100% familiar with the American rating system, but for violence, I'd probably give the fic itself R. Since I’m not posting the fic at this stage, though… probably PG-13.

Explanation: I don't know if either the character or the scenario are badly clichéd or 'Sueish in any way, and since I've been striving to avoid 'Sueishness if at all possible, I wanted to find out at this stage.

I’m skipping over quite a lot of the story, because it doesn’t concern the character I’m asking about. You’ll have to let me know if I’ve skipped too much and it no longer makes sense, though!)

A rather naïve 16-year-old girl called Lorena Firenzé leaves home to go on an adventure. What she hasn’t bargained on is the fact that people no longer go on adventures (quite probably due, in part, to the war that’s been going on for the last several hundred years*).

* Lorena comes from a small outlying province that’s been pretty much left alone by the war, hence her almost complete lack of knowledge of the ‘big wide world’.

She’s soon conscripted into the army by a new friend (the army are really desperate for troops, so nobody asks any questions), where it soon becomes apparent that she has no talent whatsoever. Luckily she’s not alone; the army’s rabid recruitment drive means that the once-elite Aquila Division is now home to such pillars of society as a weapons-obsessed barmaid (Lorena’s newfound friend), a pair of itinerant necromancers, and a former samurai with a fear of puddings. (Don’t ask. Really.) And understandably, their commanding officer is not best pleased. Worst of all, there doesn’t seem to be any way of getting rid of them: the army’s too desperate for troops to discharge them, and having them executed would attract unnecessary attention. However, a rather unconventional solution presents itself: put all the ‘unwanted elements’ together in a unit of their own, give them the most incompetent leader possible, send them off to some obscure part of the front line, and wait for their inevitable deaths. And the perfect choice of leader would be... Lorena Firenzé.

When they resolutely fail to get themselves killed, their rather corrupt (like you hadn’t guessed) commander hires an assassin, who happens to come from the country they’re fighting against, to get rid of Lorena. And this is the part I need ‘Sue-checking. (Not Lorena, but the assassin.)

It’s to be assumed from the start that the assassin (a woman called Cassandra Marconia) is a bit mentally unstable, but she is still a professional. Well, initially. When Lorena (who doesn’t have a clue that someone’s trying to kill her) accidentally wounds her in self-defense, it suddenly becomes personal between them.

Cassandra declares herself Lorena’s ‘personal nemesis’, and follows her across the world, coming up with increasingly elaborate and sadistic plans for revenge, eventually killing Lorena’s best friend. (It’s not all bad though... remember the necromancers? Yes, I have a shameless loophole.) She also develops an unnerving semi-sexual obsession with Lorena...

And then... the war ends. Well, there’s more to it than that, but it’s not important to the Cassandra sub-plot. However, Lorena and her soldiers can’t keep out of trouble for long, and they soon find themselves at war with another country. (They have an alliance by this time, in case you were wondering how a little group of renegade soldiers could fight a war by themselves.) And, because- let’s face it- they’re still not very good at their job, Lorena manages to get captured after the first couple of days. To everyone’s surprise, before the rest of her soldiers can mount a rescue attempt, Cassandra turns up and saves her.

It transpires that Cassandra has started taking the ‘personal nemesis’ thing even more seriously than before, and is more unhinged than ever. Because now, not only is she planning to kill Lorena, but she won’t allow anyone else to try...

That’s about the point I’ve got up to with the Cassandra sub-plot. I’d also be grateful if you could tell me if this next bit is unredeemably bad/’Sueish/clichéd/whatever:
After saving Lorena, Cassandra sticks around. She never officially joins Lorena’s squad, but killing her gradually becomes less and less important in the face of staying alive herself, and she gradually develops a grudging respect for her former target/enemy.
In some bizarre way, she’s going to end up as a sort of Vegeta character- not a ‘good guy’ per se, and in it purely for themselves, but definitely no longer siding with the ‘villains’.

So… yes. Sorry this was so long. If you’d like part of the story/ies in question, I can upload them to my LJ or something, but right now they’re sitting on my hard-drive in lots of little pieces...

Mon, 18 Apr 2005 16:47:33 GMT

Story Title: Wargs to Live By
Fandom: Lord of the Rings
Author: WargishBoromirFan
Rating: PG, currently
Status: WIP
Summary: Tenth walker AU, you know the drill. But is it possible to keep them in character? Plus, we have Wargs...
(I'm still experimenting with it.)
Explanation: Tasana is a Sue. She's one of the Sueiest Sues who ever Sued. However, I'd like to keep the rest of the cast believable, even if there's no help for Tasana. Is anyone OOC? Is there any way I can improve reactions? Is there any way to improve the backstory?
Sample:

When Boromir thought back to those first few days on the road, the main thing he remembered was the awkwardness. He, at least, was alone amongst strangers. The hobbits all knew one another, and the elf and the ranger appeared to have ties, if not such obvious ones as the familial bonds between the little Halflings. Gandalf was ever a mystery to the lord of Gondor. The old wizard had come to Minas Tirith occasionally during his youth, but Faramir had been the one that Gandalf had taken under his wing. Unlike his younger brother, Boromir had never had much patience for old legends.

Truth be told; he didn’t have much patience for a lot of things. This included his impatience for the journey back to his city. Thinking of Faramir only increased his anxiety. He had left home on the best of terms with either his brother or their father. Both worried about what might happen without his presence in the white city. Boromir knew how desperately his city needed him, but he was sure his family would be able to manage a short leave of absence. A small risk now would be worth a great weapon to use in the face of the enemy later. And who better to face that risk than Boromir? His father was past his prime, and Faramir, for all his strength, had little love for battle. Both more than made up for any deficiencies in war-craft with their canny minds. Better to leave those powerful intelligences to warding the city, and simply allow him to ride out and back as quickly as possible, enduring the hardships of the journey for the secret behind his troubled dreams. Or so the plan had been in theory.

In practice, it had not been so simple. Boromir had reservations about the council’s plans for the Ring. If the little hobbit could resist the temptations of it, it couldn’t be that hard to put to task. Still, all doubts aside, his pride insisted that he see this quest out to its end, if only to come to some resolution to his dream-inspired journey. He just wished it did not take so long. Boromir was becoming desperate for a familiar face.

Perhaps that was why he had been so accepting of the woman. Even if she had no connection to Gondor at all, the promise of someone with whom he could speak of his city had made him receptive to her pleas to join them. Better to pretend he knew her than suffer this loneliness any longer.

And yet, the loneliness was still there. She was so shy about him, about all of them, really, that it was difficult to get much out of her about her past. The woods woman who called herself Chev’yahna fully realized that she was under the constant scrutiny of her new companions, and seemed nervous about upsetting them, rightfully so, Boromir supposed, watching how Gimli clung to his axe. Even the dwarf had some distant connection to the wizard and the hobbits, the man had noted with a suppressed jealousy. Soon, he’d adapt to these new companions he reassured himself, but it felt so odd not to be recognized and respected by reputation alone. At least this Chev’yahna was kind enough to show a bit of reverence. Yet what if this woman was simply buttering him up in order to sell the company out? Boromir did not feel this was the case, but perhaps it was best to keep a close watch on her, just until he could get to know her better. Gods knew the ranger did that to them all.

Boromir didn’t know what to think of this Dunedain that the hobbits referred to as Strider. Aragorn certainly did not fit his mental image of the heir to the long-lost throne. To look at him now, scruffily attired in a ranger’s faded leathers; the steward’s son would not have expected him to show up in any court. The few times he had attempted to engage the older man in conversation, he had found himself subject to grunted monosyllabic answers and a piercing gray gaze. Even the elf didn’t appear to have any great discussions with him, as Aragorn preferred to keep to himself during the long days of walking.

Despite the quiet of the ranger and the woods woman, these walking days were not precisely silent. What conversation Legolas did not make with Strider was often made up for with catty comments between the elven archer and the dwarf. Although the elder two hobbits were wary of him, the younger ones would grill Boromir and the rest of the company for knowledge, trading stories of their mischievous past for what stories and songs the man of Gondor would be willing to share around a cook fire. Whilst their occasional rounds of complaints could wear upon his frayed temper, Boromir genuinely liked the littlest members of the fellowship. They reminded him of how Faramir had acted when he had been small. Perhaps, these little reminders of home would combine to stave off his loneliness, but it would take some time to do so. For Boromir, it could not be too soon.
* * *

Fri, 15 Apr 2005 22:11:55 GMT

Story Title: A Comedy About the Tragedy of Chaos
Author: S. A. Bonasi
Summary: When a new threat in the form of a rogue doom appears, it will take the combined forces of Good and Evil to defeat it. But Zankou has his own agenda... Is Kyle up the challenge? Set between "Carpe Demon" and "Show Ghouls." Please read and review.
Fandom: Charmed
Rating: T
Status: Complete
Explanation: The story contains an OC by the name of Deon Jekyll. Unfortunately, I'm afraid that he's a bit...um...speshul. Va-san - who critiques my work - also has stated that he's speshul. The only problem is, there's not a lot I can change about him without having the whole story fall apart. I tried oc_analysis, but they weren't able to help. So I come here. Does Deon come off as too speshul? What are some ways where I could make him seem less 'sueish?
Sample: The angel and the two demons soon found themselves in the Magic School Library. There, Professor Drake D'Mon was trying to calm down Deon, who was furiously flipping through books. Behind Drake stood his class and Mrs. Donovan. The teacher's assistant was keeping them back. After a nod from Zankou, Laygan weaved his way over to the group. Giving a weak smile to Mrs. Donovan, he helped to reassure the students. She eyed his bunny ears in interest, arranging her own crown of laurel leaves as she did so.

Kyle had only met Drake twice, but his overall impression was that the ex-demon was more than a little eccentric. Perhaps this was the reason why Drake seemed to be dressed as Helen of Troy. Props were strewn across the floor where Deon had interrupted the skit, half the class was wearing togas, and Drake was waving the Apple of Discord in the half-demon’s face.

"Look here," Drake was saying, "you can't just come barging in here. I'm in the middle of teaching a class. So if you'll just shimmer back out-"

"Not until I find the Grimoire!" Deon shouted. "If I find the Grimoire, I can become the Source of All Evil."

"You won't find the Grimoire here," Zankou said casually.

"But..." Deon protested. "You said that I would need the Grimoire to become the Source!"

"I did," Zankou agreed, "and you would."

"And you said that Magic School was a good place to start!" Deon shouted angrily, like a small child who has had his toy taken away.

"It is," Zankou grinned. "But I never said that the Grimoire was here." Kyle vowed to never miss something Zankou said again.

"Oh, so that's why he's here," Drake commented. Inspecting the Apple of Discord briefly, he bit into it. "Hey, Zankou. Hi, Kyle. This demon here is your responsibility?"

"Yes," Zankou answered with a bright smile. "Deon is our innocent. Kyle and I are going to save him."

"You know Drake?" Kyle hissed.

"Why yes," Zankou explained. "He once sold me the most excellent book on Whitelighters."

"Save me? You tricked me!" Deon screamed at Zankou. "This is all a trap, isn't it?" He threw a book in frustration. The book traveled through the air before clonking the hapless Laygan on the head. Ears askew, the demon stumbled before being steadied by Mrs. Donovan.

Just as a final note, I feel that I should point out that the story centers around Kyle and Zankou, not Deon. So I don't need the audience to like him, per say. But I don't want them wanting to spork their eyes out, either!

ETA: Thanks for all of the help, everyone! I took the advice you gave me and expanded upon the story. Not only am I now happier with my OC, but I feel that the entire story has improved.

Welcome to the community

Fri, 15 Apr 2005 04:31:39 GMT

I intend to make this first post a place to go for general information, links, and helpful tips and advice. Comment here with anything you'd like to add. Including links, general writing pointers, etc.

Hopefully it will grow into a useful resource over time. I look forward to hearing stories, and sharing help and advice.