Jul 2011 Archive, part c

The bot thing happens every so often, though we get rather suspicious of the timing. It happened about this time last year, and the year before, which is a tad troubling, but generally we have a few days of trouble before the admins can work out how to block the bot and then we have fun playing with the debris (take a look at the wiki article on the Ypur invasion for an example).

You can feed Sues to LotR dragons if the fic they come from is Tolkienverse or at least crossed over with it - as said below, you can't just take them from one continumn to another at whim to feed your favourite monster. Fat monsters no good ;)

The horror that is cafeteria food is a mystery no one has yet been brave enough to investigate. That is, I've no idea. If no one else knows either, decide for yourself.

My agents wouldn't eat cafeteria food if their lives depended on it. Which they have. But other agents seem to survive the experience and even enjoy it, so it's probably the Laws of Narrative Comedy (or their ilk) having a laugh.

Go ahead and ask more as they occur to you. The request to keep things in one post is to avoid having the same person start four or five new threads in a row - if you think of something in a week, don't come and ask on this thread, because no one will see it. :)

http://web.archive.org/web/20080828013109/http://oddlots.digitalspace.net/PPC/PPC_TOS/thedarkelf.html

I think it's OK to feed sues to LotR dragons (IIRC, one got fed to Glaurung in TOS) but it's not OK to move Sues in between canons.

As for the spambot, we appear to have been the unfortunate victim of a test run hence the insane messages earlier. I don't know what's going on exactly there, but I suspect the old board may have to come out of retirement here for obvious reasons.

Well done, very entertaining. Nice to see someone else who knows Hogan's Heroes; I wrote my very first fanfic in that continuum.

I loved the Styrofoam Sue. That was a very cool effect. Those minis are still some of the cutest ever. I may have to adopt one of them.

There isn't a list of HH minis. You could make one yourself.

Shultz, isn't available though, I've given him away.

Sad that I don't know the Hogan's Heroes continuum, but hey, it was funny either way.

Keep up the good work! =D

are we able to post again now? since my posts don't seem to get through

It started again... *picks up frying pan angrily*

But that happened before, too. So we'll see what happens.

i'm having problem logging in. is that normal? so can't post a new topic at moment.

also, man, the spam is annoying.

...Is it over? I hope so, because I'm getting really tired of all the spam...

%$#*@%!$ Spambots....

Is it really over...?

*ducks back behind waist-height wall*

Shall we celebrate and throw a party?

*looks around for any spam*

Looks like they cleaned up the last influx.

*runs up dodging falling spam*
Oh, thank god! I thought I was the only one left.

*crawls out from underneath desk* Anyone know a way to get rid of this rain of spam? *crawls back under desk*

Well this is a bit inconvenient. I hate spam. Both kinds. Unless it's in sushi.

*wades through spam*

It was a relief to see that only one page had been flooded.

And unfortunately, I have no time to use the IRC. :(

*folds umbrella up"

I guess it's stopped.

Best wait for the Nameless Admin to do their thing. I'm sure they will be around before too much longer.

The spam on the secondary board has me baffled though. What are the odds that a random spam bot would hit both boards, when there is no direct link from this one to that, at least as far as I am aware.

But that too has been hit by spam.

Don't click on the links provided in the spam, or even the links to the bot threads. You're welcome to join the chatroom.

I wondered if this was coming. Does this strike anybody else as reeking of a deliberate disruption? Three years with this is pretty ridiculous. Did we piss somebody off during the summer at some point?

~Neshomeh

Tis the season. And then we should expect it to continue on and off until the end of September.

That's so cute! I was going to do one too, but real life got in the way. :D

Hehehehe. I almost want to take it home. x3

When I first saw it, though, it kind of looked like a two-headed robot with a SPAM T-shirt. Totally makes more sense as a head...

I kind of imagined the spam as flying (or raining) photos, so the spambot would be something that throws pictures around. I guess this works, except IT'S TOO CUTE TO BE EVIL!

Now I'm starting to feel sorry for the stupid thing...

That. Is. AWESOME. Now I almost feel sorry for it...

This was fun to read, but generally, an MST should focus less on pointing out each punctuation error, and more on making jokes about what's happening in the story. Obviously, sometimes the grammar can fuel such jokes, when they cause funny or unusual imagery, but just pointing out every missing period and misspelled word gets repetitive for the reader. For example, I found your running gag about the capitalized Father referring to God hilarious, as the MSTers got more and more flustered by it. So in future MSTs, try to make more of the stupid behavior in the fic, rather than the writing errors of the fic's author (except those that make for funny jokes).

It's a pretty good assessment of the fic. I actually laughed out loud when I read "Suedanese."

FYI, the original cast recording of Sweeney Todd is old enough for cassette ;)

I don't know the original fandom, but I liked the mission. This time around, it felt like the agents were in the world, not MSTing it.

And I loved the twist at the end. If this doesn't lead to a Full Life Consequences mission, I will be most crestfallen.

Hehe, interesting mission. Can't wait to see what's gonna happen next.

Though, it's odd, I could have sworn I already posted on this link....?

...

Oh, shit. Drew must've reanimated sometime after he got stabbed in the stomach. This... is going to get quite sticky...

Zombie blood? This is new. I would like to know what is going on. You should post a follow-up thingy soon.

I really liked the mission, by the way. I don't know the fandom, but I got a fair grasp of it from the agents, and you've piqued my interest.

Welcome to the board! Personally, the atmosphere is the main reason I wanted to join the PPC so badly. That, and to write missions... And the Sue Souffle... yum... -u-

Anyway, hope you have a good time here! Have some goat milk!

Here's a box of chocolates! Welcome!

Here, have a DRAMATIC LONGCOAT! It flutters dramatically when you need it to, even if there's no wind.

Welcome to the PPC! Have a window covered in fern-shaped frost!

Have some Swiss chocolate and some Bleepka. They'll come in handy.

Welcome to the Board!

Have a slightly sentient homicidal frisbee. Don't worry, I think I've managed to train it to ignore non-Sues, although you might want to get a cage or something just in case.

Just don't ask about the mysterious sparkly stuff crusted on the tip. Trust me, ignorance is bliss.

And you seem to be doing it right so far. :) Don't be nervous; it's a good crowd here, if a bit off-kilter at times.

Hi, have some fudge!

Hi there. Welcome to the PPC . Have a PLushie of your choice.

Welcome to the Board! Here, have some chocolate, and enjoy your stay! So, out of curiosity, what fandoms are you into?

. . . and have some Glistening Oil to go with the plover and suchlike.

Welcome aboard.

Have some Mary Sue chocolate!

Just don't be too surprised if it explodes; I found it in a hallway somewhere and needed someone to test it figured it would be welcoming enough. :)

Welcome to our little corner of madess. Here's a cigar and a can of live bait. Enjoy!

Have a Capillary Towel, some boots, and a washing machine. And this little flag which says "Run For Your Life!"

:)

Hello! Have a seventeen foot long, multicolor, wool, knit scarf (curly wig not included), and a bag of jelly babies.

Please them use them IRresponsibly!

Have some Bleepka, you'll need it!

Hello!

Have a Holy Hand Grenade! (Warning: This product is never to be used in the presence of lagomorphs of any kind)

See the title, new friend!

Have a Holy Hand Grenade! (Not to be used near rabbits or lagomorphs of any kind)

Welcome, new friend! Help yourself to the sack of venomous arthropods. Don't worry; they don't bite!

Yup, you are. I'm new too! Have a couple thousand crates of Bleepka, you'll need them!

Welcome! Have a couple thousand crates of Bleepka. You'll need them. :)

Have some bleepka and chocolate.

This mission almost felt like a tour of Sanctuary fanfiction, highlighting different parts that show up frequently. I also like that it had a bit of an adventurous quality, with Miah and Cali exploring new, unknown fics as they wander the fandom. Also, I can't believe this is the first time the Titanic has ever shown up in a mission (to my knowledge). It's such a well-known, popular thing, you would think it would show up in different fandoms more often.

Really good mission, Miah. I really liked it.

Mini-Stenophelhabbilis or Mini-Stenos from the mission.

Big Guys
Cane,Helen
Helens
Way;Helen
You,Helen
Gym;John
It,John
John Dont (Adopted by RosieAzrael)
Johns

Lights Shawn was adopted by Bryn

Also Miah and Cali have Goa'uld crystals up for trade with other agents.

As she turned the corner, she ran slap bang into Agent Luxury.

"Val! Sweetie!" Lux cried, sounding very relieved. "How'd you know I was heading to Medical?"

"I didn't, I'm out here looking for Pompom," said Val. "Careful with the towel!"

"Eh? Why?" Lux promptly grabbed the towel and whipped it off Val's head, revealing that the nurse was now completely bald and suffering from a bright blue rash on her exposed scalp.

"Hey!" Val snatched the towel back and putting it back on. "I'm assuming you're heading to Medical because something randomly weird has happened to you as well?"

"Damn right!" Lux said miserably. "I woke up this morning and ... well, remember Alan Rickman in Dogma?"

Val did. "Ewww! Yeah, I'd say you need to get down to Medical right now - but in the meantime, have you seen Pompom?"

"Who?"

"Uzumaki Pompom. Three-year-old, black hair, big dark eyes, 'bout six inches tall, cat ears? Currently invisible?"

Anyone other than Lux would probably have pointed out that she couldn't have seen him if he was invisible. "No, sorry, I'll keep a lookout."

(ooc: wherein my new agent meets my boarder persona)

Sitting on the edge of her bed, Portia McSweeney went over some important new facts.

She had a beard.

Great. Just great.

She usually had enough trouble keeping herself all lined up on a normal day. She was in FicPsych once a week to try to tease out memories of where she'd come from before being found in the cafeteria; so far, the only triggers they'd found were the battle scenes from "The Last Samurai" and the better and/or rantier Harry/Hermione shipping fics from the Harry Potter fandom. Add to that the fact that she could barely hold a projectile weapon without blowing her own rear end off and Intelligence was the only place she could fit in at the moment when what she really wanted to do was to blast, slice, impale and generally murder some Mary Sues.

But now she was a wizard. With a pointy hat. And a beard you could hide a chicken in. And a staff.

Perhaps this was the wrath of Rowling upon her: she'd only skimmed the plot of the last two Potter books loosely, she subscribed to fringe conspiracy literature (that purported that Epilogue!Harry had 5 kids by 2 different women)and fanfic was her pretty much her last remaining link to that world.

Then again, perhaps this was the fault of someone within the PPC, in which case she would pry the truth out eventually, preferably slowly and with great pain.

Perhaps... perhaps she should venture out and see what was happening. It couldn't be any worse than in here.

And if anyone laughed... well, maybe the big stick would come in handy.

(My first RP participation in the whole of ever. Exhilarating)

He had no idea what time it was, but he felt well-rested, and the Console wasn’t beeping, and that meant it was time to read. There were only a few chapters left in The Cavalier in White, and Doc was itching to find out who had stolen the titular painting. As he fished around inside his pillowcase for the book, Doc had the weird impression that the walls looked different somehow. The generic surface was a bit…never mind. He opened the book, stuck the bookmark behind his ear and—

Couldn’t read. The pages were all blurry. Doc rubbed his eyes, trying to wake them up. It didn’t help; the letters were still a greyish smear on the page. Confused, Doc squinted, looking around the room.

He saw the lines on the refrigerator door. He read the titles of his books on the shelf. He made out individual buttons on the Console. And for one very brief moment, Doc grinned in excitement. He didn’t need glasses anymore! He could see every—

His grin melted away as he looked back at the novel. He held it away from his face. He retrieved his glasses from their case, hanging from the bed board above his head, and put them on. Nothing he tried changed anything. His glasses were supposed to fix his near-sightedness. And overnight, Doc had turned far-sighted.

Agent Vania was awakened by a shriek from the bunk above her. Having stayed up late the previous night playing video games, she was in no mood to wake up early, especially if it wasn’t for a mission. She got up and peeked over the top bunk.

Doc was swaddled in blankets, huddled against the back of the bed, staring forlornly at a book in the center of his mattress.

[What’s the matter?] Vania asked, immediately aware that something was wrong with her voice.

“The Precious…” A tear slid out of Doc’s eye. “We can’t—wait.” Doc’s Gollum-speak immediately ceased. “What’s with your voice?”

[I’m not…sure.] Whenever Vania spoke, although her mouth hadn’t moved, and she had produced no sound, both she and Doc observed a grey rectangle appear, floating in midair in their respective ranges of vision. The boxes contained her words in white letters. Once she finished her thought, the rectangle would disappear.

[I seem to be speaking in—text box,] Vania decided.

“And my vision is all screwed up,” Doc whined. “I can’t read. What is going on?”

Vania swung her legs out of the bed and stretched. [This is one of many bizarre things that happen in PPC HQ sometimes. You’re just going to have to get used to it.]

“But what do we do now? Are we stuck this way?”

[Well, something is causing this. I imagine we can head out into the corridors, find out what’s doing it, and stop it.]

[BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!]

[Or—]

“—not.”

to be continued…

The former Fallout Ghoul sighed. "I am now a talking chicken." He said to no one in particular. Gurgan looked around the empty RaE lab where he had been napping-er, studying dilligently to become a full-fledged member of the PPC, yessirree, no napping here-and took a deep breath. "I did not enter this room as a chicken. I entered it as a ghoul." He let that sink it for a while then came to a realization. "I have never needed a smoke so badly in my 285 years of living."
Gurgan reached for the pack of cigarettes he kept in his boot...only to touch the yellow, scaly legs and claws of his new form. "Where are my boots?" Then it hit him. "WHERE ARE MY CLOTHES?" Then it hit him again. "WHERE ARE MY $#()$%*)@#$(*$ CIGARETTES?!"
The angry ghoul-turned rooster bolted out of the lab. (Or, bolted as best a chicken could. More of a fast strut, really.) Someone was going to pay!

Pending either her assignment to an Agent pair or her approval to become a full Agent, Intern Ally Malet spent her time in an empty Response Center, reading guidebooks to the PPC, memorising possible charge lists and repeating the Sunflower Official's list of reasons as to why she was never going to be allowed back in her home continuum with pride. Considering her former life as a citizen of District Eight in the Hunger Games-verse, this was a much better life, even if she had nearly nothing to do.

Ally strongly reconsidered this view the moment she looked in the mirror, that morning.
Her eyes were purple. Her skin, normally tanned from years of working out of doors, was soft and white. Her plain features had become beautiful, her strong, muscular arms now resembled that of an eight-year-old's, and her hair, usually very short and carrot-red, had become long and a rather vivid shade of green. In short, she now resembled the two things she despised the most- citizens of the Capitol, and Mary Sues.

Her eyes narrowed. For a moment, she considered her new appearance, before speaking in a low, flat tone.
"Someone is going to die for this."
Unfortunately for her homicidal plans, Ally found that not only could she no longer lift her prized axe, just trying to grasp it made her hands hurt. Cursing, she found her long knife, and after slipping her urple arm band on, she walked into the corridors of PPC HQ, looking for answers.

----
Grace Leon, an intern of DoSAT, was awakened from her light doze at her workstation by a rather loud explosion. Shrugging it off as just another day in DoSAT, she reached for her glasses and knocked them aside, frowning at her apparent clumsiness. After a few tries, she managed to pick her glasses up and put them on. The moment her hand came into view, she froze. Her hands were now huge, her fingers thick and stubby. Her eyes widened in horror and she let out a small shriek, frantically looking around for any spilt potions or malfunctioning machinery that could have caused it. Finding none, she got up and made her way to the exit, holding her hands out in front of her. On the way, she caught a look at herself in a shiny, reflective piece of metal, and let out another scream before running straight out of DoSAT.

----
Fingering the hilt of her knife, Ally was walking down the corridor for what seemed like the fifth time, until a screaming figure ran right into her, knocking her down.
"OW!" she exclaimed crossly, shoving the other figure off her and climbing to her feet. She looked around for her knife and saw it a few metres away. Once she'd grabbed it, she turned back to the person who'd run into her.

"My hair! My hands! My hair! Oh God, *my hair*!" the other woman gabbled.
Ally didn't see what was wrong. The woman, whose urple armband marked her as a fellow intern, had short white hair, nothing out of the ordinary. Her hands did seem grossly oversized, though.
Ally grimaced and tried to be comforting. "Er... calm down?"
"MY HANDS! MY HAIR!"
"What's so bad about your hair?" Ally asked, trying to make sense of it.
"It's just like hers..." the woman gasped.
Ally looked at her quizzically before deciding not to ask. "What's your name?"
"Grace. Grace Leon."
"Well, Grace, let's go see if we can find someone who can help. Maybe Doctor Fitz?"
"Sounds good," Grace nodded, managing to calm down. After a few seconds of walking, she said awkwardly, "I'm sorry I knocked you over."
"Eh, don't worry about it," Ally shrugged.
They kept walking, determined to find answers.

The Fisherman only realised that something was wrong when he woke up lying on the floor of his TARDIS. He went to speak, but found that his vocal cords didn’t want to work, or at least not in the way he expected.

“Whhhaat,” he managed to say in a gurgling voice after a few seconds. “Don’t tell me we crashed again.” As his head cleared and he stood up, he realised that something was very wrong. His skin felt very dry, as if he’d been walking in the desert for days, and Evie was nowhere to be seen. He activated the monitor, which showed that the TARDIS was parked in the Cafeteria at HQ.

“Hello?” a synthesized voice said. “Fish-face!”

The Fisherman looked down to see a round white ball with two handles and a pink eye looking up at him from the floor. He instantly recognised it as a Personality Core from the Portal continuum. Had Evie been… regressed somehow?

“What happened to you?” he asked. “How did you become a core?”

“You think my problems are bad,” Evie replied. “You’re a fish.”

“What.”

“Seriously. Take a look at yourself.”

The Fisherman flicked a switch on the monitor and gaped at what he saw. While he was still humanoid, his head was now distinctly fishy, with large eyes, blue scales, gills and a thin mouth and chin. He looked down at his hands. Still human-ish, but now scaly and webbed.

“What in the Worlds has happened to us?” he shouted.

“Maybe we should go outside, see if we can find any information?” Evie offered.

“Yeah, good point. Hang on though.” The Fisherman rushed off deeper into the TARDIS.

“That’s OK. Just leave me here!” Evie said once he was out of sight. “I’m fine with sitting on the floor. It’s sooo much fun.”

“That’s better,” the Fisherman declared when he returned a few minutes later. He had some sort of glass helmet on; it was open at the top and filled with water.

“Very fetching,” Evie said. “A fishbowl for fish-face.”

“Come on,” her partner replied, picking her up and heading out of the TARDIS.

Caleb was crouched in a ball in the corner of his OC, scowling murderously at nothing in particular. High, wailing sobs grated in his ears, doing little to improve his temper.

The connecting door to RC 273-B opened slowly, and Kestrel crept in with her forelimbs wrapped around her chest. For a moment she stood in front of the doorway, looking simultaneously enraged and humiliated.

"Yew too, then?" she growled.

Despite the lack of natural sunlight, the vampire was sparkling radiantly, and resembled a very irate, human-shaped diamond. "What do you mean, 'too?' you look fine."

With a scowl, Kestrel let her arms drop to her sides, revealing a pair of decidedly humanoid breasts.

"That's just wrong," Caleb remarked. "How about those rookies of yours?"

"Ash's stuck standin' on her--sorry, 'tis his right now-- head. Hope keeps requippin' mallets an' pies an' anvils, fings like that. Artie keeps talkin' in Parseltongue." Kestrel looked past him. "Where's Jack, an' who's that'un cryin' there in the corner?"

Caleb glanced at the pale, half-naked zombie crouched and sobbing on the other side of the room. "Jack got genderflipped."

Kestrel's eyes widened. "Wait, so Jack--"

"Is now a Witch."

Intern Kirill thought sourly as he looked down at his hand. The melted plastic and glass was fused to the bones in his right hand, and the remaining strings of charred flesh were starting to crack under the weight. He sighed, rolled his eyes, and stepped back through the SEP field in Gnat Alley and through the portal into PPC headquarters.

*POP*
Kirill quite suddenly felt different. One second he was a demon-worshipping sadomasochist with a coffee pot fused to the remains of his hand, and the next- he took stock. Still a demon-worshipping sadomasochist, he was sure, but the important part, the coffee pot part, had changed. His hand was suddenly whole again, with much lighter skin and fingers that were, in a word, more delicate than before. Ridiculously delicate. His entire body had a strange light feeling, as if he'd lost a lot of weight or become much strong stronger. The only exception was an odd strain in his lower back, and the strange sensation of his hair touching his ears (unusual in itself) far higher than his ears normally went.

The intern ran to the nearest bathroom and was worried when he found it quite quickly. If the Narrative Laws of Comedy were still in force, then finding the bathroom was inherently funnier than not finding the bathroom. This worried him. He stepped through the door, took a deep breath, and looked in the mirror.

He was an elf. Skin tone had gone from olive to milk-white, hair had turned blonde and added about eleven inches and- oh. He glanced down, realizing that the change was to more than race and species.

For a second, Kirill froze. His species, his mana alignment, his race, even his sex had been suddenly stolen by some catastrophic event, seemingly calculated to tear away at every facet of his physical identity. He was saved from total catatonia only by a single light of comfort: he now had breasts. This was going to require some examination.

"I'll be in my bunk," he said. No one was listening, but it seemed appropriate.

"I am not going out there."

"What, worried that somebody will see you with no clothes on?"

"No," Kay growled. "I'm worried that somebody will see me with no skin on and you know it." She folded her arm bones over her ribcage and did her best to glare at Emm, which was difficult without eyebrows or facial muscles.

"Personally I think it suits you," Emm said cheerfully. He patted the mass of flames his hair had turned into. "More traditional view of a Reaper, you know? Get you a black cloak, carry that scythe of yours and we could scare the hell out of a few people."

"Look. I am not wandering these halls as a walking skeleton, thankyou. I'm staying in here until I've-"

"Put your face on?"

"Ha. Ha. Ha."

"Tell you what. I've got a solution that should please everybody."

"And what would that be?"

Emm proceeded to yank Kay's skull from her spinal column.

"Hey! HEY! This does NOT please me! Put me back on my body this instant!"

"Well, this way you don't have to wander anything." Whistling, he tucked the skull under his arm as it... well, she... screamed dire imprecations at him, and went off to find whoever could have caused this mess.

I haven't yet asked for Permission, but could my agents play too?

Lee woke up feeling oddly claustrophobic. She fought free of the blankets tangled around her-- of which there seemed to be more of then usual --and tumbled to the ground. She lay there for a moment, trying to figure out why she was so winded. Her perspective didn't seem quite right; everything was about a foot higher than it usually was. Her ears flattened against her head as she looked up to see the console looming over her.

Something was wrong. Very wrong.

Lee padded over to the full-length mirror that hung between two of the bookcases and stopped dead when she caught sight of herself. She swore sharply, passing through several languages before she got a hold of herself. Right. Something had obviously happened while she and Ian were asleep, and-

Ian. Lee's eyes grew wide. What if whatever had happened had affected her partner as well? Lee turned away from the mirror, her own troubles forgotten in the face of the possible harm inflicted on her partner. The ladder up to Ian's bunk gave her a bit of trouble, but eventually Lee made it up. After a little bit of panting to catch her breath, Lee made her way carefully along the length of Ian's body, using her enhanced senses to search out any possible problems. She didn't find any until she reached his head; more specifically, his hair. One small, spotted paw darted out to touch it, and the changed texture confirmed her suspicions. It was time for Ian to wake up.

---

Ian. Ian, wake up, Glod-damn it. This is important.

Ian grunted softly and tried to roll over. A sharp Stop! and the feel of claws digging into the skin on his chest made him pause in his motions. He felt a slight weight pressing down on his chest, which made him open his eyes. His bleary gaze focused on a pair of bright green eyes.

“'Posa, get off,” he muttered, gently pushing at the cat sitting on his chest. She didn't budge.

I'm not Mariposa, Ian, the cat said, and Ian's sleep-fogged brain finally caught on to a few things that had been subconsciously bothering him. One, that the cat was speaking to him telepathically; Two, that the voice was Lee's; and three, that Lee now seemed to have regressed into the form of a mountain lion cub.

“What the hell happened to you?”

I have no idea, Lee replied, carefully getting off of Ian and sitting next to him on the bed. I woke up like this. I'm not the only one who's changed, either. Take a look at your hair.

Feeling rather apprehensive, Ian followed Lee's advice and looked closely at his dreadlocks in the mirror after getting out of bed. Lee followed after him, taking a more circuitous route to the floor, but getting there safely all the same.

“I have yarn for hair?!” Ian spluttered, running his hands over his altered hair. “I look like I'm wearing a Glodawful wig!”

I'm a kitten, Lee said in her best GlaDOS impression. With an agile leap, Lee hopped up onto a shelf and then onto the nearest of Ian's shoulders. Much better, she said, carefully balancing herself in a sitting position, her claws gently latching into the fabric of his shirt. At least this way I'm not liable to be stepped on.

“Comfortable?” Ian asked dryly.

Yes, Lee replied, purring a bit. Let's go and see if anyone else has been affected, or, at the very least, know what's going on.

“Good plan.”

With that, the two DMS agents left their RC and headed out into the labyrinthine halls of HQ.

((I got a little wordy with my reply. Sorry about that. Also, this is what Lee currently looks like. *grin*))

... the inhabitants of RC #88 were woken by a loud hammering on the door.

"FOXGLOOOOVE!" More loud hammering. "I know you had something to do with this! Get out here right now!"

"Mum, are you sure it was 'er?" asked Molly, who was leaning on Agent Skyfire as if about to fall over. She broke away and tried to take a step, and did indeed fall over. "Ow! I dunno 'ow she coulda done this."

"I don't know, but whenever something odd happens to us, it's usually something to do with those two, and I'm guessing Foxglove because, well ..." Skyfire pointed to her own fur, which had turned a particularly horrible shade of neon pink, spattered with blue spots. "She's the only agent I know who openly likes anything pink - Stormsong, for goodness' sake control him!"

Stormsong yanked on the leash to which Moses was attached. The four-year-old otter bobbed merrily against the ceiling, flapped his newly-acquired wings, and squeaked "I'm a bird!"

Is this one of those "pass the hatchet" games?

Oh. My. Aslan. Just reading the summaries makes me nauseous.

These need to die. I'm debating claiming one of them and being scarred forever, or leaving them to wreck the MLP canon. Hmm... I really do like my brain....

And did you see my request to adopt Carlose the mini-sparkle wolf? I think it got under all the spam we got last week, and I'm not sure if it's politer to edit the wiki page myself or ask you first. >_

That's... pretty awful, but hey, at least it's not 'Cupcakes'.

I've been looking for MSTs for ages.

Topless Robot and Masterpiece Fanfic Theatre are what eventually led me here! I have never heard of the other one's but I have a feeling they're going to contribute into the murder of this pitiful beast known as "my time".

I very much look forward to seeing a Millenarian try to cope with HQ. Very, very much. (I can't help but read Peregrin's line about the Real World as cynical to the nth degree. "Oooh, you're from the ~Real World~? Tell me more!" Especially given the theories put about in Anathem. Usually, we call it World One, since in the multiverse it's no more or less real than any other continuum.)

In short, your agents are interesting, your writing sample is intriguing, and permission is most definitely granted. Carry on!

Have a good August everyone!

"We can now publicly disclose we have been under a DDoS attack the last two days, which is causing the site issues. The traffic load has been immense, many times our normal load level, and the attack is still on-going. We are in constant contact with our providers to continue mitigating the attack. We again apologize for the disruption, and are working to get everything back to normal as soon as we can. Thank you!"

It's frustrating, but it's not their fault. They're doing what they can to fix everything. I'll keep checking in over the next few days, and hopefully everything will be resolved quickly.

Yeah. I take it from the last bit you're looking for suggestions, so I'll just work with that.

-The idea of the corrupting influence of the unicorn's power is good. I was going to say "no, this can never work" but saying that it's beauty and so on and suchlike a really a form of insidious mind control is very appropriate to the universe. It's less overt than almost everything else, but cosmic horror is under no obligation to be subtle.

-Sanity would take a hit from encountering it for two reasons. First, the contrast with reality: the incorruptible pure pureness that the unicorn embodies is as alien to normal human existence as any (other) eldritch abomination. Second, this thing wrecks your will. Given the nature of the CoC universe, once it sinks it's claws into you, that's a chunk of your self-determination you ain't getting back. Breaking away from it would probably induce profound feelings of loss and despair- if you've ever seen Angel, think what happened when people got severed from Jasmine, only make it permanent.

-The community you've outlined would have a growth rate that's far too high to be practical. Living in an edenic paradise with no birth control and minimal inhibitions would have the birth rate sky-high even without abductions. Also, frankly, there aren't enough downsides; considering what an absolute sea of frack living in the CoC universe is, people giving up their wills to this *thing* in exchange for corporeal paradise seems pretty reasonable. I'd expand the centrality of the unicorn in the whole thing. If exposure to it damages your mind, then if any of it's wild children become mentally separated from it, they should die.

-You could also make it a honey pot. According to folklore, unicorns only have an affinity for virgins. This could make the unicorn into something fairly nightmarish: it draws in children who are abused, hurt, and so on, raises them in eternal spring, slowly devouring their minds with it's own. Then, when they lose their virginity (which they have no reason not to do) it withdraws, leaving them lobotomized or dead.

Sorry, that rambled a bit. Just a few thoughts.

e_e

...and yet, I still find my mind has been scarred. Sigh. I didn't even read more than three words in a row AND MY EXPLETIVE IMAGINATION JUST FILLS IT IN.

There are times when I really envy Captain Carrot.

I don't even watch that show and I sensed extreme OOCness. There was some fail biology (I'm not saying where) in there too. Eww...

Could this be a thickly veiled trollfic?

...I just wanted to fit in.

You mean... Someone... There... Jersey Shore... And...

*I'm sorry, this person has experienced a real life BSoD. Please stand by.*

W... What? Why?

WHYYYYYYY?!?!?

Even just skimming it is painful..

I never found formatting missions time consuming. But then, I only use plain text and press ctrl+i before I paste in a clip from the badfic and press it again after.

I'm curious what a mission using your template would look like. Do you also have a sample of that? (I don't have any programmes that can work with dotx format, so fiddling around with the template myself is not an option.)

---

As for persons using LJ to post missions: I always first upload to ffnet. That puts the mission in html (and strips it of any styles used, I believe) then I copy-paste the html into the LJ window. Also not particularly time consuming.

You seem to have constructed this template with only one specific presentation framework in mind. That is, you fail to take into account that some people might not be posting their missions to a site that would allow for such formatting. I know quite a few people (myself included) use Facebook to post their missions. That usually involves some messing around with html codes in order to indicate things like italics or bolding or what have you. The template does not account for things like that.

I should also point out that I am not a fan of applying templates to something like missions. That's fine for the wiki, but missions are rather more personal than wiki pages. I do not like the idea of having to adjust my style to fit the template. I know, I know! There's nothing that says this would be mandatory. The idea still makes me uncomfortable. I don't want to see every mission with the same exact format! I want to see the individual quirks that each writer possesses!

I can't seem to download this. I'm using Word 2007, so do you have any ideas why it's not going?

I take it that the author herself also came to the US as a teen, so this book would be a "How I tried to live the American dream" sort of thing?

I don't know whether there is a market for that in the US (I don't have any idea what the market for non-fiction is like in the US, i.e. what kind of books sell.), but if she wants to publish in any other way than self-publish, she has to think about who wants to buy such a book. Many publishers / agents request that you also say something about the possible market in the cover letter. By the way: want to buy is not the same group of people as "need to read". I've seen several application letters that pointed out who needed to read the book. (Usually everyone with a certain prejudice. Funny enough, those are the people least likely to actually buy the book.)

Her market could be people who want to know how immigrants become successful (or not). That may just be other immigrants and the odd sociologist studying the subject and looking for narrative experience.

90,000 isn't long for a novel. It would come out at about 260-280 pages. I'm sure she would be able to find a good editor if she was willing to pay for one. (She should look for one that also knows her native language, so the editor isn't too puzzled by some of the mistakes made.)

1. Not having a disclaimer is GOOD form. GOOD. Grr. I hate disclaimers. So pointless and stupid.
   No, not a charge.
   2. I'd deal with it myself, but someone more experienced will have to give their opinion on this.
   3. Umm, I don't think the fic will collapse. I think this happens too often for that. Once, Bag End was replaced by a Bad End, which manifested itself as an animal, and the fic was fine.

Hi! TV tropes, eh? Awesome.

Have a holy hand grenade! (Do not use near rabbits or lagomorphs of any kind)

Hello and welcome! Have this conical hat and some pastries!

The pastries are probably not stale, but I make no promises.

The conical hat is made of duct tape.

Looks like it. So, what's your fandom?

Hi, have some fudge!

Have a crate of Bleepka, as well as your two cents.

Have a... let's see... a miniature violin decorated with pictures of chess pieces! Okay, that was silly, but I tried.

I also found this site through Tv Tropes. Welcome to the board! Here is your complimentary cigar and a can of live bait!

Nice to have you a-board! I found this place through Tv Tropes too. ;D

Oh, and have some chocolate! *Throws chocolate at you*

Welcome, new friend! Have an army of pawns.

Welcome to the Board! Here, have some chocolate, and enjoy your stay!

So, what fandoms are you into?

Because everyone can enjoy a good exploding pie. :D

*pokes the newbie* D'aaawww!

Ahem ...

Welcome! Have a plot hole and a whiskey and cola (or a cola and cola, in case you don't drink).

Welcome! I bestow upon you a stone dragon statuette and a package of red pens.

Sweet! Now we have another functional musician of stringed instruments on the Board! =D

Here, have some Berg for the road:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UrfoyyreUbE

I give you the gift of e-compleation.

Now you are a boarder. Welcome aboard.

What date would work best for people?

As I will be unable to attend in person. Have fun, dudes!

And by this impassioned cry for Octopus, I mean: I'm not entirely sure yet what I'm doing but I know I'm not in Canada, so that's a plus. If it is at all feasible, I'm probably there. (In fact I'm probably there already. :P)

I'm afraid I'm going to be on the east coast bothering a certain boarder from August 20th through the 28th, but aside from that, I'll be there.

(And weekdays are problematic as well - yay full time jobs.)

You guys pick the ONE time I am on vacation. :/ Hahah, oh well. It's cool that there a quite a few PPCers around here.

Alas, Minnesota is far far away from the west coast. And I have neither a driver's license nor money for an airplane. *sniffle*

Too bad my attendance was just a one time thing. And I'm sure I have my pictures of the Shocktopus somewhere...

Just let me know when, so I can ask for that day off at work.

Sure! I'll be in Seattle for PAX from the 26th through the 28th, but I have other days off if need be...

It really depends on the badfic. Sometimes I like to read/watch the canon it was based on after I'm done reading it, but other times that makes the horror worse. In that case, I usually turn to other canons. Listening to Heart of Courage helps.

If I'm trying to get through a really terrible badfic, it sometimes helps to make an orderly, bullet-pointed charge list, organized by chapter if necessary. The illusion that I can do something about whatever travesties are being perpetrated by the fic helps out.

The first line of defense, of course, is my normal reaction to extreme pain: hysterical laughter.

My solution is to keep reading, but to read something else if the badfic is that bad. Badfics that aren't as scarring can provide a lot to laugh at. And sometimes I just retreat to good fanfics or read a real book.

I go read things from my good fic pile, or canon works that I find it easy to get lost in. The bad writing is replaced by the goodness.

First, I usually say "What" a lot. As in, five or six times in a row, pause, and then another series of them. Then I busy myself with a distraction. I'll go read a webcomic, or a book, or if it's really bad I'll find one of my cats for some quality petting time.

Seeing everyone act completely and utterly in character is like a soothing balm.

...That, or I put on the loudest, angriest song I have and bellow along with it until I'm too worn out to be angry. Then I go and read.

Nothing is better than Serious Sam or Ace Combat to vent off the anger and put the squicky things out of the head.

first place on the worst of the worst.

I break it down into small parts if it's long enough. I've managed to get through the first three chapters of C*l*br**n by reading one chapter at a time. Sometimes, I'm watching TV or videos at the same time, so that my attention is divided and can't get the full effect of the squick.

All else fails, I have a good brew in hand.

It takes a pretty high level to squick me these days, but if it really gets to me, I'll open a new text window and start writing myself. Everybody thinks "geez, I could write better than this," and I try to make the badfic a challenge to actually do it. Most of the time I don't produce anything worthwhile, but it sure helps. XD

I go to the social network sites I frequent and find something else to focus on. Failing that, I go read good stuff, like TVTropes or online stories. And I listen to music.

By which I mean, finding something in the bad fic to laugh at. Mentally riffing it as you go helps prevent harm from a lot of horrors, if you can summon the presence of mind (doesn't work on all fics, though, but it's worth a try).

Read good fanfiction. Like, legendary-status fanfiction. I actually read C*l*br**n the whole way through (seemed like a good idea at the time) and to cheer myself up I dove into an archive of awesome Good Omens fanfiction. Recently I broke my brain over Forbiden Fruit: The tempation of Edward Cullen, and revived after reading most of the contents on the Sherlock Fanfic Recommendations page on TV Tropes.

Or immerse myself in canon! I read Tamora Pierce or Redwall, or I watch Sherlock and NCIS and Firefly and it makes me happy.

Your short story there was excellent. And now that Magic folk have vouched for your agents, permission granted! Enjoy!

EEVEES ARE MY FAVORITE POKEMON EVER. EVER. It's sad Sues abuse them so much. I might borrow George if no one else is interested in him, though I probably won't because I already have a mini I'm quite happy with. *Hugs sparkle wolf* Hope he finds a good home however. c:

Oh, and lovely mission by the way! The only problem I'd have with it is what Doc said, but besides that, I can't wait to read more. :D

That was fun! I like your agents' personalities. One thing you might want to keep in mind for future missions: it's usually easier to read when the parts quoted from the badfic look different from the parts you wrote--italicized, underlined, whatever.

Could you please change the background or the text color so it's easier to read?

On second thoughts, I decided not to post it. I haven't written a second chapter and I might never do so, so posting the first chapter probably wouldn't work out well. And honestly, I don't think I'm brave enough to post it.

Yeah, I'll post it. Thanks for the feedback, guys.

Negative feedback that tells you "This isn't very good; you could've done better in X, Y, and Z" is feedback that's good and necessary. Negative feedback that says "This is a terrible story, and you should feel terrible" is pointless, only slightly more pointless than feedback that says "ZOMG THIS IS AWESOME RITE MORE PLZ."

I doubt you'll find a lot of good feedback of any calibre on the Pit, but it's worth a shot. Don't be afraid of reviews. They're good things!

I'd just upload it to the Pit. Crackfic isn't to anyone's taste, and you'll probably get some negative feedback, but it's not the end of the world. It might have some good advice.

I really liked these. :D
Write more, Caddy!

Sorry about forgetting...again...


Anyway, the minis available are:

Ronin Dex, who speaks in fanbrat Japanese.

He Scar, a gentleman looking lightning bolt scar, complete with top hat and monocle.

The Rope, I am keeping for myself. You never know when rope will be needed.

Are you kidding?! Cupcakes is amazing!

It's certainly "Legendary", but I don't think it qualifies as a badfic. It's decently written, and has very few plot-holes, and Pinkie acts surprisingly in-character (Which makes it oh so much worse).

Why does everyone think it's a badfic? I liked Cupcakes. I thought it was really well-written and creepy.

I think Cupcakes is a gore-version of the TYPE of legendary badfic as C*l*br**n. Both of them take a swan dive off of a canonical event (Cupcakes has the end of Party of One, C*l*br**n has the fact that Celebrian was attacked by orcs once) and into unimaginable disgusting depths.

I am almost 100 percent positive that Cupcakes is trollfic as C*l*br**n is.

Is it Legendary? I think so. At least in the MLP:FiM community. It's perhaps the most talked about fanfic there... similar to how My Immortal is frequently discussed. It has the fandom awareness to mark it Legendary.

Depends. Generally, the defining trait of a Legendary Badfic is that a huge number of people know about it - hence 'legendary'. I don't think we ever really decided whether that means legendary to people in general or legendary within that fandom. It sounds bad, though.

Now that I'm done with that, Cupcakes has to be legendary. It's just so... well-written.

Let me ask Trojie - I faintly remember that they once met in person, so she might know more than we do, though I very much doubt it.

I am also familiar with the fun/boring/frustrating wait times for chemical experiments (that's when I usually write).

Could you put the link up on the wiki?

Though honestly I can't tell one Flower or Agent from another... I haven't read your stuff in forever... so I'm kind of confused.

I love it! Awesome work, hS!

(Also, I may have nearly cried a bit. But that doesn't make it less awesome.)

*scurries off to read*

I don't have any serious critique, but in the end of Chapter Five, you've a minor typo: 'technicial' for 'technician,' unless I miss my guess.

Very well done, as always. I'll have to reread Reorganisation and Crashing Down, it's been far too long.

it's good. Congrats hS. I'm impressed. Nice story work there.

This is a prequel, I take it?