May 2018 Archive, part c

Thanks to hS for renaming the draft.

The wiki page Badficcer linked to sections "I'm only twelve..." and "You don't have to be so hard on beginning writers. .." of the historic FAQ that don't have equivalents in the new FAQ: For Other People. Somebody may want to do something about that.

In case somebody wants to check whether the links still make sense in context:
What links to FAQ: For Other People
What links to FAQ: For Other People/historic
What links to FAQ: For Other People/Draft

HG

Someone should probably come up with a lede for the new version, actually; the 'no longer consists' note was just filler I put in until someone could concoct something better.

hS

And what's more, I'm absolutely sure I've learned a word for that in my poetry class. But as that was over a year ago the memories are not fresh, and of course now that I need them the textbooks are nowhere to be found.

But if I don't remember sometime today I'll consult with my poetry professor, because I'm sure he'd know and now it's bugging me.

Closest I was able to find was also haplology. :(

No clue what it is, though. Still, there must be something somewhere...

~Z

For some reason, I just love gibberish.

-Twistey

So I got Tomash to give me the archives so I could do fun stuff with the full contents of the stuff. But I was lazy, so instead of running it through a neural net, I ran it through a Markov Chain algorithm (aka Dissociated Press: the Computer Scientists's standard method of obtaining plausible nonsense). So here's some selected excerpts:

...have decided to assess whether cuttlefish would go about getting Official Permission to write when they try to keep it on missions - you have to kill her on fire might have been/could be...

...Hatred. She hates orcs. Hate hate hate. Thank God the Father and Son are not, in and have been allowed to take on multiple instances of Agents on holiday simultaneously, so it's SFW...

So then I upped the history, and got stuff like this:

I'm concerned he may be drifting closer to the Sue Event Horizon and shows few signs of stopping.This is beginning to worry me. He is a very spontaneous person and has minimal care for protocol and anti-badfic measures. At most, he gives it lip service. At worst, he might be completely ignoring it.

towards the 'able to name exactly what model of starship is seen at what time in what scene in what episode of what show' side. This means, for her, there are people who call characters Mary Sues are wrong.There's a logical fallicy in there I can't quite put my finger on.

Speaking of that RP, what did Copernicus have to say about sexism in humans?And one thing I'd like to add, mostly to get out there and learn how to write in general... and hey, I've been gone for a while and established a foundation from which to launch other sorts of stories,
inanimate objects. Most of the staff of Fanfic Land. I don't know how to politely turn someone down.

If Toinnninnnaneinneheeannion ever posts on the board, don't trust him.

Also, yark is now the god of the reptilian humanoids, and their greeting/goodbye is Bast chauble!

I'm suddenly reminded of the Harry Potter predictive keyboard chapter... and now I want to see something like that for a PPC mission.

I know we tried something like that a while back, but the itch is biting at me again. I blame you. :P

Also I am back from my trip, so that's good. =D

My favorite one was "Humanity - Humanity - Diverwing-twistedwindowpane,Thu Aug 31 9:58am".

this tale is basically the SONIC.EXE of the Thomas community.....in that it's not scary at all, is overrated as hell, and has been mocked mercilessly by the fandom's content creators.

i am indeed a member of the followers of the holy hometank, and in hindsight, I should've linked you guys to a fanwork that's actually terrible, like the "tragic" tale of Timothy

If you're not new, that sorry for not recognizing you. If you are, welcome to the PPC! We're glad to have you around.

What're your fandoms?

- Tomash

Took me a bit of time to figure out which section of Killed Badfic to look at (why didn't I just ask? I have no idea. Why did I start from the top and thus search almost every page before finding it? It seemed like a good idea at the time). Anyway, it seems you were in the Video Games section, looking at a mission by Ellipsis Flood...and I'm quite happy to tell you that the mission isn't lost forever! It's just using an older (or just different) link, apparently. This should be the mission you're looking for! (It won't link properly because it's an archived link that thus looks like two in one, so I'm just going to paste it in like so: https://web.archive.org/web/20150814155403/http://flooding-ellipses.net/template.php?src=mission1.ppc )

Ellipsis Flood, on her user page and agent pages, lists two (archived) sites (okay, there's also a third with "older missions" on it), neither of which, interestingly enough, match the link that isn't working. Probably what we ought to do is go through and make sure that the links work, replacing where necessary. In the meantime, I suggest going through her agent pages (all of which are linked on her user page here!)

Mind you, while we're on this topic: pretty much all of IndeMaat's mission links don't work, at least on the Killed Badfic page. I forget if there's a working link elsewhere; I do vaguely remember years ago thinking I was going to go around replacing the links. I'll...look into that again, hold on...

Right, yeah. The links exist, I believe for almost all the missions, if memory serves. I or someone else should replace those links as well. I think it's just on the Killed Badfic (TV Shows, DW/Torchwood and the A-Team, mainly) page where they don't work; I tried a couple on the agent pages, and they seem to be working fine.

Anyway: now we know! And thanks for drawing our attention to it!

~Z

...please excuse my typoes. *other than

What If? is a brilliant read from start to finish; I actually have the book, which includes even more fantastic articles. My favourite is 'what if you had a periodic table made up of the actual elements?'; the answer of course is 'boom', but at great length. (Which describes most of the content of the blog...)

What's interesting for this article is that Randall didn't really address the big point that 'a fireman's pole from [orbiting satellite] to the moon' is pretty much a description of a space elevator. An odd omission.

hS

Specifically, the thread immediately above constitutes a claim that Zdimensia was not responsibile for the recent trolling which purported to be by her; thus, any comments addressed to her should be considered retracted.

[Per the direct request of the original poster, the text of this post has been redacted by the Nameless Admin.]

...just because you have some similarities with someone doesn't mean you should have to do the same things and/or be treated the same. I think there's at least one similarity with Zdimensia for each of us, maybe more, and look at how different we act from her.

It's just like any other fallacy of association to feel close to ZD because you have similarities - a fallacy. And man, that fallacy pops up a lot. To the point where it's even become a trope in fiction (hero/villain tells villain/hero that they're "not so different", anybody?) So always remember who you are and who you're not, and that your choices and actions are your own.

-Twistey

Someone purporting to be Zdimensia (variously 'z', 'zd', 'f', and 'you know who') has over the last few hours repeatedly posted in such a way as to cause the front page of the Board to replace itself with a gif and the text 'This is for ruining my life. -zd'. These posts were deleted on sight by the Nameless Admin, along with one from the same source saying 'I'm never going to go away.' The Board has also been secured against such attempts; the last three or four had no effect.

palindromordnilap is now claiming to have been the one making those posts, and by implication the ones earlier this month which attempted the same thing.

I've largely stayed out of this entire fiasco ever since the ban was enforced, but from what I've been seeing, mistakes have been made by literally everyone involved in all of this, including me - both my instance of yelling at her when we were trying to give her a chance, and doing nothing to make things better when she escalated the situation. She hasn't went after me since the ban, thank the gods, but the fact that she's resorting to ban evasion in a bid to try and bribe, bargain, and even threaten her way back to us is just sickening. I don't know how soon it'll be before she gives up if at all, but nothing anybody is doing now is solving anything, not leaving, not IP-hopping, not even ignoring her in the hopes that she'll stop being a nuisance.

What's even more upsetting, however, is that I'm not sure if ANYTHING can be done. The worst-case scenario may be that we're going to get backed into a lose-lose situation - either having to deal with her constant harrassment of us as a community or attempting to do something about her, being called out by some of our own members as bullying her, and losing the respect that these members have in us (which seems to be the case in this specific occasion). Here again, my lack of involvement is more of a curse than a blessing, since I literally, honestly have no clue how to go about all of this and I don't think I ever did. Is her behavior unique among the people who have proven troublesome to us over the years? I don't have answers to that, either, although perhaps people who've been around to see them come and go may know better than I do. But what I can say is that nothing we're doing now, not leaving, not chasing out other people for even indirect involvement in this disaster, not even singling her out when it seems as though her behavior is exceptional among other people we've had to ban in the past, is getting us anywhere quickly, let alone towards a solution to the issue of people taking umbrage at our measures because they think they're in the right.

I suppose I too am feeling bitter about this fiasco, but I've been through enough to actively discourage potentially toxic behavior of mine. It could just be that things have been consistently disastrous for this community ever since last year's mob-and-dox incident, and everything that happened then and since left a sour aftertaste that hasn't gone away completely. I understand that we're all striving to improve, but these improvements haven't been as quick or effective as I feel they could be.

With respect to this specific incident, though, I have and legitimately can find nothing else to say other than that towards both this community AND zdimensia - but especially her, if what she's doing really is tearing people away from the PPC - I am very disappointed. So, so very disappointed.

But I do have long, wavy, luxurious red hair. I've gotten a lot of compliments on it from random strangers. Also, neither of my parents are redheads (Okay, mom was a redhead, but her hair has since gone blonde, much to her frustration as now nobody can tell I got the gene from her).

Don't remember for how long, but part of a year in high school, at the very least. I assume it was mostly non-physical reasons that prompted it, mostly, so I won't go through those, but two things (one which makes for a good anecdote and the second that's just plain too classic not to share):

I never had braces, unlike a *lot* of my classmates (so many, in fact, that I have a fair idea of what living with braces is like anyway just from listening to them!)

I get along well pretty quickly with most animals, and always have. Often works with people, too--I make the acquaintance type of friend very easily if I get to the point of conversation.

That's not to say I'm perfect, and I spent probably a good few hours total trying to convince her that I wasn't a Sue, but there you have it. If I wrote myself as-is (ie, not as Dawn) into a story and didn't show the flaws, I could probably get a Sue pretty easily. It'd be the type of Sue who's relatively harmless but very, very obviously needs more balance. I'd like to think I do have that balance (despite the fact that almost-out-of-university!me has even more Sue traits, without really having lost most of the earlier ones), but, well, not quite the idea of this thread, is it?

(For more detail on how far from me Dawn is by now, and how far from me she was when I came up with her, go ahead and ask. Believe me, I'm more than willing to talk about this, and it'll probably make it into an a/n sometime even if no one asks me here--there actually already is something of the sort in an unfinished interlude wherein she visits her family. No idea when that's ever going to be finished, though.)

~Z, who also keeps being told she has a good singing voice despite a general lack of training. What a world we live in! Then again, Sues do have to come from somewhere, and I could see one part of it being​ just looking at people, especially celebrities and some classmates, and only seeing the best, most talented parts...

A term i like to use for sues' lack of brains is "sue-pidity"

Argument that I am in fact a Stu, and not a person, in a couple points.

1. I fit in everywhere I go.
(Or maybe I just feel like I do!)
I've studied acting and theatre for many, many years. I've also studied some psychology! I was an outcast through elementary and middle school, and I was horribly awkward and unsociable. Thus, I joined the local theatre programs near me, and I learned how people act like people. I also made a lot of good friends, and a lot of good tips on how to adapt to whatever situation I'm in, and how to make friends with (or mortal enemies with) near strangers, in about 10 minutes. I've fit in everywhere I've been to and made great friends, and haven't particularly stuck out like a sore thumb anywhere for the past couple of years.

2. I'm extraordinarily beautiful.
I'm very vain, wake up with great hair, and have never gotten acne.
(My ego talks here.)

3. Physical skills!
I'm strong, I'm fast, and I have a lot of endurance for being both strong and fast for long periods of times. I don't work out often either.
I'm tall and skinny, about 100 lbs. This is generally bad for people, but after long talks with my doctor making sure I'm getting the amount of nutrition I'm getting (I eat four meals a day when I can) it's just my fast metabolism, and not a major issue right now in my life.

Points against me being a Sue:
1. I make a lot of mistakes. I'm certainly not perfect at everything I do.
(2.?) I'm nonbinary. I don't think nb sues exist, and if they do, I have never seen one! (But if they do, please send proof! Also, what is the term for an nb Sue? Is there one?)

There's a particular radio in the Small Mammals building. If it's tuned in to a station and I walk too close, my body somehow reduces the transmission to static. It's only that radio, though.

I hadn't really considered this until I read Neshomeh's post, buuuuut I kind of can eat anything and stay thin. I'm maybe not super thin—130 pounds roundabouts—but the unavoidable physical activity of my job, coupled with a naturally high metabolism, mean that I eat and eat and eat and don't gain weight. While most of my coworkers bring one thing for lunch and spend the rest of lunch break talking or on their phones, I stuff a backpack full of foods and spend the whole break cramming stuff down my throat, because if I don't get enough food down, I wind up getting weak with hunger by the end of the shift. (And while I should hypothetically have a thirty-minute lunch with two fifteen-minute breaks during the rest of the day, the zookeepers in the past collectively decided to fold the whole hour's worth of break time into the lunch break so we can spend more time together. Which is a lovely sentiment, but it also means that if I get to lunch on time, I have no time left to eat later in the day.) The food I eat is mostly meats, cheeses, and carbohydrates. Oh, and actual junk food like gummy bears, Twizzlers and chocolate, because my metabolism is so fast, it basically doesn't matter. My pre-shift breakfasts are also ridiculous—either a big bowl of spaghetti with butter and parmesan, or a plate filled with tater tots—just to make sure I can make it to lunch break without losing steam due to hunger weakness. And I hate it. I hate that I have to spend so much time (and money, but mostly the time) on something so basic and meaningless as eating. I don't enjoy eating, I don't enjoy cooking or the taste. I would literally skip it all if I could, and just have more free time every day. But alas, my digestion rate won't allow it.

—doctorlit, whining about a first world problem most people would love to have

This may or may not count, but to the outside observer, I appear to have the ability to eat whatever I want and still be thin. I know because they tell me so: "Oh, you're skinny, you can eat anything!"

This is not actually true. While it is rare for me to turn down free chocolate or pastries or whatever if they're in the offing, the facts are that I'm usually sparing with portion sizes, I enjoy vegetables and salads sufficiently that outside observers also sometimes mistake me for a vegetarian, and I occasionally try to subsist solely on tea if I'm working on something and can't be bothered with solids. (Then Phobos scolds me and drags me out of the apartment to get a burger.)

I'm also not remotely fit, and I'm pretty sure my spine has an actual curve in it from my bad habit of leaning on my left elbow. I'm working on correcting this.

I'll cop to having a good singing voice, though, and have in fact used music in the process of wooing my love interest. ^_^

~Neshomeh

Does having (supposedly) brown hair that turns silver in certain lighting count? I also have that gray/green/blue color changing thing that Delta Juliette mentioned.

I definitely agree that stuff like this is fascinating to learn about on real people! Though, I'll admit that for me personally it's because I'm obsessed with mutation for comic-booky reasons. :P

My eyes do the color-changing thing too, between gray, green, and blue.

I also have the most tragic food allergy: I'm allergic to strawberries. A single slice of my particular forbidden fruit is all it takes to start my mouth itching, and an entire berry will leave me with breathing trouble for the evening.

If you want me to go all-out with the Suvian descriptions: I have jade green eyes and the pupil is ringed with gold.

That probably contributed to why that color combo is my favorite, come to think of it...

Also, my baby brother and I apparently have identical faces. My mom once took headshots of us and photoshopped them together, right down the middle. It was perfectly symmetrical.

So... yeah. TotalBiscuit died.

I don't know how many of you watched his stuff, or even have the interest in videogames to know who he was. But he was sort of amazing. Not without flaws, but...

TotalBiscuit was a games critic. He did immeasurable amounts for numerous indie games (and helped get word out about a number of obscure games, including Warframe, back when nobody knew what that was). He helped defend numerous content creators from shady developers who tried to get their content taken down or otherwise censored.

But above all that, he was a relentless advocate for the consumer and unabashedly, relentlessly ethical in an industry and sector where that isn't necessarily normal. Even people who loathed the man were usually wiling to admit that.

RIP TB. We'll miss you.

The XYZZY awards (the annual awards for excellence in Interactive Fiction) have once again come around. Or at least, the finalists have been announced for this year: https://xyzzyawards.org/

So I'd like to take a moment to point to a few current finalists and previous winners, especially for those who don't play IF.

Firstly, a brief author highlight: Brendan Patrick Hennessy is amazing and so is all his stuff. Bell Park, Youth Detective is pretty good, but the star of the show is Birdland, which won six XYZZYs. I've played it, and it really is that good. It's funny and heartfelt and touching, and you should all just go play it right now if you haven't already. Don't worry: it's pretty short. His Known Unknowns is in the running this year, and it'll probably do well.

I didn't play a lot of last year's winners (you can go through them all on the site), but I did play 16 Ways to Kill a Vampire at McDonalds, which had a lot of fun puzzles and was pretty entertaining.

This year, we had Wizard Sniffer which is pretty funny, but it's also a more traditional bit of IF. True, it's not as Evil and Badly Designed as a lot of oldschool IF was (like Zork: oh man, that game actually WAS evil), but it still might be a bit intimidating.

Finally, Chandler Groover's stuff is almost always pretty good. But it can be kinda NSFW and weird.

In one of the bewilderingly long articles about Civ, they wrote this:

Since the end of World War II, the situation has been much different. While small wars have certainly continued to be fought, two proverbial “great powers” haven’t met one another directly on a battlefield since 1945: that’s 73 years as I write these words, a record for all of post-classical human history. As the political scientist Robert Jervis could write already in 1988, “the most striking characteristic of the postwar period is just that — it can be called ‘postwar’ because the major powers have not fought each other since 1945. Such a lengthy period of peace among the most powerful states is unprecedented.” The change is so marked that historians have come up with a name for the period stretching from 1945 to the present: “The Long Peace.”

Emphasis added. Say whaaaaat? Surely in 1500 years of history we've managed more than 70 years without two great powers directly fighting! More research was needed, clearly.

Well... I can't actually reach the Classical era. My understanding of power dynamics in pre-Norman Conquest Europe is severely limited. Actually I'm not too hot on the 500 years after that, but luckily there was this whole string of Crusades, which I figure count.

So I put together a spreadsheet, here. It's not complete. It focusses almost entirely on European wars, or wars between Europe and the Ottoman Empire/the Crusades. It's probably left out a lot of wars between countries that I don't know if they count as 'Great' (was Hungary a 'Great Power' in 1127 when they fought the Byzantines?) but it's enough to answer the question:

Between 1095 and 1945, the longest period of peace between Great Powers was 48 years, following the First Crusade. Between 1500 and 1871, we never went longer than 20 years of 'peace'.

War! What is it good for? Well, based on the data, apparently everyone loves it!

hS

Terry Pratchett was a massive fan of The Elder Scrolls, especially Oblivion (and perhaps later Skyrim). He was fascinated by the modding scenes of the games, and even made writing contributions to some mods he liked (namely, Vilja and her Skyrim varient).

Figured that was worth sharing.

And if I can find other stuff by him, I might read that too. I love Terry Pratchett's sense of humor, writing style, and ideas. Y'all have me hooked. Thanks, PPC.

-Twistey

Happy Glorious 25th!

And happy Towel Day while we're here! Don't panic. ;)

Sadly, I don't have any lilac, but I do have a copy of "Night Watch" (which I should really re-read...)

I picked up a copy of "Thud!" some years ago, and I found myself enjoying Pratchett's style, with it's interesting characters and concepts.

I should re-read my other Discworld books, come to think of it...

So that's not fun.

Sir Pterry was amazing and Discworld is brilliant. I know there are a few of you out there who haven't read it yet. If you, reading this, are one of those people, I urge you to do so. They're easily some of the best out there.

And while not all that many missions visited the Disc, Pterry's sense of humor and whimsy seem to have been fairly major influence on the early PPC. I can make a pretty strong case he influenced Jay and Acacia, at any rate.

alt.fan.pratchett is still around, although it's small. If you like, log onto Google Groups (or whoever your usenet provider is) and pay your respects.

...I do have another news item today, but I don't think it's appropriate for this thread. I'll post it beneath my Digital Antiquarian plug.

I use Duolingo, so that might be a great way to help them out. Let me see what ideas I can come up with.

-Twistey

Hello all. I would like to assure you first that your suspicions about zdimentia and myself being the same person are indeed false. She and I have been in discussion about this for the past two weeks, and I read the backlog.

While I don’t have a full understanding of your community or its rules admittedly, I have read the backlogs that are available, and have discussed things with her at pretty great lengths. I understand some of the group dynamics that were at play. Not all of them, but enough. This has obviously disturbed their life a great deal, and I do sympathize.

That being said, I have posted some of the messages she has written directly, and have one more to post, which is why some of the things I posted here were in her voice. I do have another message to post of hers, and I really do hope that you will be willing to consider it at least. There’s no way to force things, but if you would at least hear her out, this may be a resolvable matter without further heartache on either side:

Myth could explain how both the group and Bram misread the racism situation if you allow her to explain. For one thing, Bram didn't deliberately ignore the request to expand on an apology. She's upset that the group is exaggerating a misconception about what she did and won't hear the truth.

Hello everyone, this is the original poster. I would like to relay another message at the request of the Bramanditook. I appreciate your patience in all of this.

"Bramandintook on gmail wants a copy of the deleted messages."

It has come to my attention that Zdimensia has been posting directly to the Board. Looking at the IP evidence of 'Anonymous'' posts:

-The original post and the first reply come from the probable third party.

-All other posts come from Zdimensia's known vicinity, and three from the same IP address.

The most recent 2 posts have been deleted. The repeated IP has been blocked.

If you require evidence of this, reply with your email and I will provide it.

Phobos messed it up by pulling the same old stunts. This is not resolved.

Here is the original message that was supposed to be changed by the messenger... It got mistranslated.

I was approached by someone that you've hurt, and she's still in a lot of pain. I think that you should actually resolve the bad blood between you. There is a resolution that wouldn't necessarily mean that she becomes unbanned, but it will probably get rid of her.

(That means that you should give her something that she actually wants, and to figure that out you should talk to Mythcreant. )

For one thing, stop lying that the original ban was due process or that anything that happened since then was fair. This coincidence was not a conscious decision, she started getting upset without knowing about palindrome's actions.

However, I'm afraid your information about the situation between us and her is likely incomplete. I would invite you and any other interested party to please investigate the relevant archived discussions as linked from the individual's PPC Wiki user page and draw your own conclusions as to the usefulness of further discussion.

~Neshomeh

So not 'recently'.

If she is not asking for her ban to be lifted, there is no reason for the community as a whole to have any sort of discussion with her. The PPC community, and most of its members, consider the issue 'resolved' - she was determined by majority vote to have no place in this community, and that was the end of the matter. The only official business we have with her is 'is she allowed in this community?', and it appears we agree that the answer is 'no'.

If any individuals wish to communicate with her, by this proposed means or any other, they are and always have been free to do so.

Extended discussion on this matter would be increasingly disruptive; I propose that you, 'Anonymous', leave some method for off-Board communication with you or some other relevant party, and that there be no other replies to this thread.

If, of course, any members of the PPC community feels that we are in need of yet another extended debate on the subject, they are, as always, free to say as much. I am not a moderator, and my opinion is just that - my opinion.

hS

PS: If you would like to pass on a message, please tell her that I hope she has a wonderful life, and that she soon can get over this unhealthy fixation on a small internet community which has made it clear she is not welcome. ~hS

A brilliant mission finale - and some proper reactioning to canon events, too! Sometimes canon characters just don't take things lying down, you know?

Thank you, for continuing to share this story with us. ^^

(Disclaimer and warning: the Italian is swearing. So be prepared for that if you decide to translate it.)

Ce’rana of Borune yelped as another tense shift rocked the ground, throwing her out of the tree she’d been perched in. She didn’t quite land on her feet properly and lurched to the right, barely catching herself before she cracked her skull on the uneven ground.

Alexander Hawke had also been tossed to the ground, but he landed awkwardly when the shift sent him into the tree Ce’rana had been sitting in from his place near the roots. There was a clearly-audible crack when he connected, like the splintering of bark.

Ce’rana looked over, expecting to see the damaged bark crumbling off the tree and preparing herself to make sure it would be alright; instead, she discovered that Alex had gained a second elbow. In the opposite direction and in the middle of his forearm. How odd, she thought in the moments time seemed to slow to a crawl. It almost looks as though Alex is hurt. But he never gets hurt.

Alex looked at her, his eyes following the direction of her gaze until he spotted his double-bent arm. “Huh. I wonder why it doesn’t hurt?” He tried to move his arm, then doubled over as the break decided that now was the time to start hurting. Thanks ever so, IO. “Figlio di puttana!”

Ce’rana immediately bolted over to her partner, trying to grab the RA as she went and failing. “Alright, that is definitely a bad thing,” she muttered as she tried to look the break over without hurting him more.

“Cazzo! Of course it’s a bad thing. My arm’s broken.” Despite the swearing Alex seemed relatively calm.

“Yes, I know that. That would be why it’s bad,” Ce’rana snapped, glaring up at him for a moment for his lack of care. “Especially since I wasn’t sure that your bones even could break with how much pressure you seem to shrug off every other mission.”

Alex bit back a reply about enough things snapping already without her tone adding to the list, then looked down at his arm. “You don’t know how to do a splint, do you?”

The Dryad shook her head. “I was a scribe, not a doctor. Beyond that, I was the firstborn of a noble, and a female at that. Even further beyond, a Dryad. At no point was I given the chance to learn that, even if I had the inclination to do so.”

“Rana… What part of ‘my arm is broken’ sounds like ‘give me a genealogy lesson?’ Because I don’t think this is the best time.”

She bit her lip and glanced away. “Of course. My apologies. The point is, no, I do not know how to make a splint.”

Alex frowned. “First, get a pair of relatively straight sticks…”

One impromptu lesson later, Alex’s arm was at least not in danger of breaking further. Ce’rana smiled ever-so-slightly at the fact that she’d managed to do something practical and useful, even if she’d needed to be talked through every single step, occasionally more than once. “Alright. Now, where did the RA go…”

Alex shook his head. “We still have a mission to do.”

She fixed him with a Look, now trying to find the RA in her bag by touch alone. “Alex, I am not going to allow you to continue without spending a few minutes in Medical to get that fixed. I have lasted on missions without you for longer, and there is nothing of particular danger coming up save for further tense shifts and timeskips, which we both know I can handle.” The tiny agent chose to ignore the fact that her stomach very much could not. “I will be fine, and you will go to Medical for a very short while, and we will continue our mission from there.”

He sighed. “I’m coming right back, you know that right?”

She smiled at him and patted his unbroken arm. “Of course you are. Just as soon as your arm is fixed.”

Alex shook his head and reached into her pack, trying to help her find the RA. “Not like this is the worst break I’ve ever had.”

Ce’rana blinked. “I suppose I should not be surprised at that,” she admitted as she turned back to the search in full, “but I am.”

He chuckled. “What about you?”

She shook her head. “No, I never broke anything. Not for lack of trying on my brothers’ parts, though - and Korus was the only one who ever came away with any serious injuries. Even then, it was… more than rare.”

“Sounds like you were lucky.” Alex pulled out the RA, then held it out to her. “Can’t really use it one handed.”

The tiny agent nodded, took it, and punched in the coordinates for Medical. “Dryads do not fall from trees easily,” she said with a small smile once the portal had opened, “and my brothers never did figure out how to hold onto me when I wanted to get away. Now go get your arm fixed. You know how to find me in this place.”

June 2010, joint mission, Agents Dawn McKenna and T'Zar (DOGA) with Agent Abaddon. Dawn is seventeen:


"You're joking," Abaddon said. "You've been an agent for how long, now?"

Dawn glared at him. She'd liked him well enough the first few times they'd met. Right now, though, she could only think sourly that she wished he'd stayed far away from T'Zar after the Vulcan was repartnered with her. "Three years."

"Three years, and you've never broken a bone!" Abaddon laughed. He even looked stupid, Dawn decided, with his stupid punk look and his stupid floppy hair and the stupid little braid in his floppy hair. "How does it feel?"

Forget everything: Dawn picked up the nearest object and threw it at him. "It hurts, you moron! What do you think?" She was tearing up again, half from frustration. Why wasn't T'Zar back yet? Abaddon had managed to find the regular strength painkillers, but neither of them knew how to set a broken bone in anything more than theory. Which left Dawn stuck leaning against the wall with a broken leg supported by their packs, and only a stupid, laughing nineteen-year-old boy for company.

"Sorry, sorry," Abaddon said. He'd managed to catch the notebook she'd thrown; now he set it aside and cautiously moved to sit next to her. "I'm a prat sometimes."

Dawn looked away, trying to blink back tears. It didn't work. "You are."

"I really am," Abaddon agreed. Quite awkwardly, he put an arm around her shoulders. "T'Zar should be back soon. She'll know what to do--and she's got the RA."

Dawn sniffled, and could barely bring herself to hate that she'd done it. "The painkillers aren't working."

Abaddon winced. "I'm sorry. And I'm sorry I laughed before--it's just, I broke my first bone before I even became an agent, so it's..." He glanced at her. "Not funny, not at all, just different--"

Dawn closed her eyes, and tried to pretend she wasn't leaning into him. She didn't even like him anymore: he was just T'Zar's annoying ex-partner, who looked and sometimes sounded a bit too much like the latest Doctor for his own good (which...made absolutely no sense, come to think of it. He'd said something about fancasting, when she'd idly commented that he was really kind of the new Doctor in blond and black, but had anyone even known Matt Smith before this role? Well, some people must have, she thought. Just because she hadn't heard of him didn't mean no one had.)

"Go on," she said dully. She needed a distraction from wondering how much longer T'Zar would be, and she now knew from experience that Abaddon could talk forever if no one stopped him. "What's the story there?"

"Oh, well." Abaddon shrugged and pulled one knee up, resting his free arm on it. "I was a kid--only about eleven, I think--and we were visiting my uncle. He's brilliant, my uncle--have I ever--? No? Another time. Anyway, my mum and dad were being boring with him, so I thought I'd go exploring. Clambered over everything, like some sort of ibex--or, you know, like a young idiot." He shifted, rolling his shoulder. "I fell, obviously. My balance wasn't as good as I thought it was back then." He glanced at Dawn. "Rolled down a hill, hit a tree, and then just lay there screaming for a bit. I thought I'd broken my neck, but it was really just my collarbone."

Dawn made a face, eyes opening again. "That sounds awful." Uri had been eleven not too long ago; it was a little hard not to picture her little brother in Abaddon's place, especially since he did like to climb things when the family went camping. He'd never broken anything doing it, but there had been some close calls...

"Oh, it was," Abaddon said. "Dad found me, though. Always seems to, really...anyway, he and Mum and my uncle sorted me out. Never even reached a hospital. But I didn't get to climb anything for the rest of the trip." He paused. "I...I must've scared them, really. They didn't say it in that many words, but Dad barely let me out of his sight for the rest of the day--and he usually says he doesn't actually need his eyes to keep an eye on me."

There was a brief silence before Dawn spoke again. "What do your parents do, anyway? I told you about mine earlier, but you never--"

"Dawn?" T'Zar was back, a tiny frown creasing the skin between her eyebrows. "Why are you crying?"

"She broke her leg," Abaddon said quickly. "You know how to help with that, right? Neither of us have ever done it. Oh! I gave her painkillers, but they're too weak to do anything." He stood up, hovering while T'Zar put down her bags and knelt to examine Dawn's leg. When she finished, Dawn was crying outright.

"I will portal you to Medical," T'Zar told her. She hesitated, then put a hand on Dawn's shoulder. She'd told Dawn, on multiple occasions, that she did not understand both the human need for comfort and the idea that touch alone could give it, but here she was doing it anyway. Dawn wanted to hug her. "They will have stronger painkillers, and the ability to repair the broken bone. Abaddon and I will finish the mission and meet you there."

Dawn wiped her cheeks and nodded. "O-okay. Okay."

"Okay," T'Zar repeated, in the dry tone that Dawn was really starting to think meant she was teasing. "I have broken bones as well, Dawn. The statistical probability that you would--"

"Oh, stuff the statistical probability," Abaddon said cheerfully. "Your partner's in pain. Open a portal to Medical so she can get out of it, yeah?"

T'Zar raised an eyebrow, and pulled out the remote activator to input coordinates. "I was about to do so."

"'Course," Abaddon said. He leaned down to pat Dawn's shoulder. "You'll be alright. Hey, maybe we'll find you a souvenir from here! You like chips, right? They have a weirdly awful scene in a chip shop later--"

Dawn barely had time to say that, yes, she did like 'chips,' only they were called French fries where she was from, before the portal opened underneath her and deposited her on a bed in Medical with barely a centimetre's discrepancy. T'Zar followed via a second portal, and stayed long enough to catch the eye of one of the Medical staff and give strict instructions regarding Dawn before disappearing through a third portal.

The staff member in question smiled down at Dawn. "Don't worry, honey, we'll have you fixed up in no time. First broken bone? I don't remember seeing you in here for one before."

"Let me guess," Dawn said. She knew this woman, if not very well. With a bit of effort, she managed a strained smile. "Do you have a story about the first broken bone you ever got?"

The woman laughed. "Me? Oh, no." She smiled at Dawn, and turned to pick up the nearby scanner. "I've never broken a bone in my life!"

Agent Alleb stopped outside the door, preparing herself. Every time she came back to the RC, she always walked in on her partner in the midst of some unexplainable, and often embarrassing, shenanigan. Last time he had been dancing. The time before that, he'd been in a shouting match with the microwave. And the time before that, he'd somehow managed to stick himself to the ceiling using the "tape of ducks" one of the RC's previous occupants had left behind in a drawer.

Mithe, her fire-lizard, gave a questioning chirrup from her perch on Alleb's shoulders, the blue swirl in her eyes slowing slightly.

"Just wondering what unexpected happenstance I will find today, girl," Alleb said, reaching up to give the fire-lizard a scratch."Might as well get it over with." Taking a deep breath, she turned the handle and swung the door open, revealing--

Jesse McKines, sitting at the table, gazing thoughtfully into a half-full tumbler of whiskey.

"Oh," Alleb said, forgetting to come in. That certainly was unexpected.

"What?" Jesse asked, looking up. His brown eyes, beneath a thatch of blond hair (it was far too long and therefore far too unruly to be without a hat, Alleb decided) looked quiet and faraway. "Find what you were looking for?"

"What?" Alleb repeated, then looked down at the burlap sack in her hands. "Oh, yes. My apologies, Sir Jesse. I am used to finding in you in far--well, nevermind. Yes. I found the 'grocery store' Agent Yarwick spoke of, and also the 'hum-moose' that Lord Virneleski recommended," she said, pulling out a circular carton of beige paste.

"I think it's pronounced 'hummus,'" Jesse said. He looked back down at his drink, his eyes still seeing something she could not.

Frowning, Alleb thumped her grocery sack onto the kitchen counter, then walked over to the table and pulled up a chair beside her partner. "Sir Jesse," she began, "is something troubling you?" Mithe leapt off her shoulders and landed next to the sack, sniffing at the opening.

Jesse took a breath, coming back to himself a little. "Hm? Trouble? Aw, nah, Alleb. Just... thinkin'."

Alleb blinked. "Forgive me, Sir Jesse," she said, as gently as she could, "but you do not often do that."

It was Jesse's turn to blink. "Ouch."

Alleb gave him a look. "You do not often brood," she clarified. "What is it in your drink that you find so interesting?"

Jesse stared down at his whiskey again, and Alleb suddenly wondered if he'd gotten some sort of ill news while she was away. "Mike Green, down the hall, told me it was some sorta holiday on World One today. At least, for how time moves for his folks. He called it 'Memorial Day.'"

Alleb frowned. "A rather somber name for a holiday. What does it celebrate?"

Jesse didn't answer for a moment. Alleb began to think he had not heard, but then he asked, "You're a soldier, ain't you?"

A few details clicked into place. "I fought in King Eliam's army, yes," she replied. "And you fought for the Union, during your country's Civil War, did you not?"

"Yep," Jesse said, nodding. "After the Civil War, we called it Decoration Day. Come May, some folks'd go out and put flowers on all the soldiers' graves. Wasn't made official till after one 'a them big 'World Wars' I keep hearin' about." He hadn't looked up from his whiskey the entire time he was talking.

And now it all made sense. Alleb laid a bone-colored hand on Jesse's shoulder, and gave it a hard squeeze. He winced, and she lessened the pressure slightly. "I have also lost comrades, Sir Jesse," she said. "It is good that your country sets aside a day to honor the fallen. Alleble does the same, in its own way. We who are left can only trust in King Eliam, and in His ultimate plan."

Jesse's mouth twitched, as if he wanted to give his usual half-smile, but didn't have the energy. "Yeah," he said. "Guess so."

"In the meantime," Alleb said, getting up and fetching another glass from the cabinet, "may I join you?"

This time, he did manage a small smile. "You bet," he said, unhooking his flask from his belt and pouring her a half-glass.

Alleb raised her tumbler. "To the honored dead. May their memories live on in glory."

Jesse raised his glass as well. "To the lost," he said.

They drank together, while Mithe crooned a lilting almost-song from the counter.

Harris had been drinking coffee, ever since it was invented. He goddamn loved coffee. Not for the flavor, no. For the sweet caffeine that did wonders to his permanently waking brain. He loved coffee so much so that when the first automatic coffee machines came into production, he bought one of every brand. He tested and tried each and every one of them, to find out what made the best coffee. As more and more machines were produced, he eventually settled into a particularly fancy dispenser. Every morning, he would place his #1 Dad mug underneath (despite his lack of children, partner, or desires for alternate progeny) and warm, dark roast coffee would be poured into his cup. Like magic.

Recently, his favorite coffee machine had been stuttering, spitting coffee, rather than pouring it. It came in bursts, rather than a smooth stream of caffeine water. He had been using this particular machine for centuries, and oh, it just might be nearing the end of its life. However, Harris routinely magically enchanted the hunk of junk to make sure this never was the case. So, if not the machine, it must be the power supply.

Harris was lazy and irresponsible. He very much did not like paying taxes or bills or reading whatever mail the government happened to send him. And so, he decided to switch off his water and electricity and open portals to other dimensions to supply his own needs. For his water, a portal at the bottom of an untouched ocean, completely devoid of life. For his gas stove, a portal to a brightly burning star. For his footstool trashcan, a portal to his local recycling plant.

For his energy, he'd went into a nightmare dimension full of eldritch abominations and monstrosities. He'd found the biggest baddie he could find, chained it up, and stabbed some cables into it, and ran them all the way back to the portal, to his house, to his coffee machine.

As Harris began strolling to his portal room, and as he passed through the endless void between dimensions, he wondered how much of that critter was left. Following the thick cables, some electrocuted entities lining the sides (thanks to a neat little charm he had learned in Pre-K) he approached the end of the cable. There was no hulking terror left, only a very, very small toothed worm. Like a leech, except smaller, and more vicious. He supposed that this was what remained of his cash cow, or as he put it, his voltage Varuh'tynyopai.

Harris pulled the cable out of the critter, and it seemingly faded into dust in his hands. He removed the magical bonds, and began his search anew, to find the second-biggest baddie that this dimension held. Harris just couldn't go without his coffee.

What would happen if the Internet gained sentience - and took the Oath?

Discuss.

(Anyone also familiar with Robert J. Sawyer's WWW Trilogy is very much welcome to chime in~)

Natural History

This is my report on what really happened at the London Gathering last year. Frankly, with four wizards more-or-less in attendance, it's pretty much what you'd expect (ie, hijinks).

hS

Password is the same as last time.

(That is, Party?)

Password is still Party?

(Yes, with the question mark.)

The Birthday CAH game begins!

Password is "Party?" without the quotation marks.

Though I expect the timing had nothing to do with that anyway. |D

And it's very plain how much effort the two teams are making on balancing themselves - trying to be aware of themselves and each other. And then still pushing the buttons that are just out of sight. (Also, Ix deserves hugs - on his terms - but we knew that already. ;) )

Also... oh gods, the robot biology in this fic. >.< There are just some lines! Slightly mitigated by Charlotte's rhyme, but still.

I also had no idea who Penny was, but I still felt near-crying after what happened to her in the fic, so that scene was sold quite well. So was Serendipity's moment during the first charge scene.

In short: I love this mission, despite not knowing much personally about either canon.

Did spot one thing, though: "Charlotte sighed and stood up, holding out her hands to pull Ix to her feet. “Less chance of dying, you mean.""