DSMP Comics Zine
In a city brimming with heroes, vigilantes, and villains, a mysterious organization known only as E.G.G. has stepped out of the shadows. Their goal? Total chaos. In their quest to overrun the city, they've developed a device that shuffles people's powers— and nobody is safe…
This collection was created to collect the works created for the DSMP Comics zine, but it is not restricted to this. You may submit any work so long as it is in some way inspired by the zine's universe! You can find the zine download here on our Carrd.
(Open, Unmoderated)
Recent works
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Summary
So this is the long and short of it:
Something happened. Powers got swapped. Everything’s fucked.
Everything’s fucked but Sapnap, co-founder of the Heroic Operatives Association, is fucked specifically. He can't contact either of his vigilante or villain fiances, he refuses to talk to his dad, and worst of all, now he’s got Warden’s nerdass technopath power. His head could crack open and nothing but trains and cellphones and coffeemakers and washing machines and electric toothbrushes and Karl’s novelty waffle maker and the entire city of Essempi would spill out.
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Summary
What Fundy really needed wasn’t a collection of drain flies he could possess. He needed something to cut himself free and let him spoof the locking mechanism, or alternatively attack the door hinges that some moron had put on the inside of the cell.
A screwdriver. A knife. He’d take a cheese grater at this point.
Plus, if some benevolent god decided to drop Fundy a knife, he could use it on the next henchman to come in. Stab them and make a break for it, slash their throat so they’d stop freaking hitting him, there was a wealth of options–
Clink.
Series
- Part 52 of dream smp fic my beloved
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Summary
“Facade,” says Tubbo, turning around at last. There’s Quackity, striding in through the doorway, a drink in each hand. Two whiskeys, neat, each a deep mahogany color. He holds himself, like he always does, as if he has something to prove. Tubbo wonders if anyone’s ever told him. No one actually self-assured walks around like that, Quackity. You give yourself away.
Quackity slides into the barstool next to Tubbo’s, giving him a nod. “Aegis. Good to see you back.”
Or: two men who can no longer rely on the sacrifice play reckon with their new circumstances. Also, they share a drink. No metaphor there. Nope.
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Summary
“That’s it,” Wilbur said. He smiled again. It was not a nice smile, this time, but something frankly horrible to look at for too long. He hesitated again before giving Schlatt an odd, wry look. “Feel any better?”
Schlatt bristled underneath Wilbur's gaze, but he considered it for a long moment. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say that Wilbur almost sounded as though he cared. “A little,” he said finally, his lips curving into a pleased grin. Will blinked at him. “Enough to try and fuckin’ wring your neck.
Written for the DSMP Comics Zine, available here.
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Summary
Another turn, pounding hard against the pavement, right on the heels of his raccoon– and the alley explodes into brilliant light. They've emerged into an abandoned side street, draped in the peeling remnants of old paint, backdoors hanging from their hinges. Its sole occupant is a familiar lanky figure, sitting at the top of a set of stairs leading to the back of some condemned building, rummaging gleefully through Wilbur's slim wallet.
Tommy doesn't hesitate. “Get fucked, bitch!” he shouts as he leaps from the alley’s mouth, propelling himself forward on spite alone. Antfrost's head snaps up from his prize, eyes wild, just in time for Tommy's knee to connect with his chin.
Or: on a brisk Tuesday morning, the famous vigilante Red Raccoon's life– and the lives of every other powered citizen in Essempi– gets promptly turned upside down.
