Subject: Nope. Ran out of absolute power.
Author:
Posted on: 2014-05-20 13:09:00 UTC
Turns out, it was really expensive. We hand out a 50/50 mix of, the much less expensive, great power and great responsibility, now. We get it premixed by Uncle Ben's.
-Phobos
Ok, here goes with my Permission Request. Please be gentle with me.
* * *
Agent Sean Bellman
Department: DMS
Partner: Agent Hild (at first. I have a sort of story arc planned for my characters, so this will change. Email me if you want spoilers.)
RC: 4
Species: Human.
Home Continuum: World One.
Age: 27
Hair: Dark, curly, cropped short.
Eyes: Brown.
History: Sean worked as a reader for a small publishing company, vetting unsolicited manuscripts from the slush pile. As most of them were, to put it bluntly, rubbish, he tended to get very angry and work out a lot of his frustration in the gym afterwards. One day he finally snapped, ran through the offices screaming, beat up one of his colleagues, and locked himself in the company’s toilets yelling, “I’m a potato! I’m a potato!”
Finding a new job was hard, especially since his old employers refused to give him any references. Then he saw the advert in the paper. Someone was looking for employees who hated bad writing, were in good physical shape, and “complete sanity not required.” He applied and got the job.
Personality: Rather bitter and cynical. He'll always be the one to see the worst in a situation, especially in a fic. So naturally he gets teamed with more optimistic, easy-going partners - usually rookies who haven't been in the PPC long enough to lose their sense of wonder.
He still likes to work out to get rid of his stress, usually accompanied by loud heavy metal. (He doesn’t actually like heavy metal, but he finds it’s great for working out to.) His current partner, Hild, is one of the few people who doesn’t mind the smell of his sweat following a workout.
Likes: Working out, cheesy old thrillers, MST3K, dogs, pasta.
Dislikes: Being reminded of the potato incident, bland lager, raw tomatoes, people asking if he's Luxury's ex-boyfriend Sean, people asking if his name is anything to do with the Bellman in Jasper Fforde’s novels.
* * *
Agent Hild
Department: DMS
Partner: Sean Bellman (at first. This will change as my story arc goes on. Email me for spoilers.)
RC: 4
Race: Human (Dunlending, but with some Rohirrim ancestry)
Home Continuum: Arda.
Age: 21
Hair: Blonde, usually worn in a messy bun
Eyes: Dark grey
History: She's from a semi-fic blip, an unwritten Boromance in which she was a member of a group of Dunlending bandits who captured Boromir at Tharbad on his way to Imladris. Assigned to watch over Boromir while they planned to ransom him, Hild found herself getting to know him, and slowly starting to feel affection for him. She eventually helped him escape, giving her life to help him get away.
But since her fic was never written, she ended up slipping through a plothole, and ending up in HQ. She was cured of her borderline Sueness and trained as an agent. Her weapon skills from her bandit life meant she became an assassin in the DMS.
Personality: She's optimistic, full of excitement and wonder about this new life, not having been in the PPC long enough to start getting cynical about it. Despite this, she's still a hardened, experienced warrior, and won't hesitate to fight someone if necessary.
One aspect of modern life that she's having trouble getting used to is hygiene. Coming from a semi-nomadic bandit tribe who washed once every few days in the river, she sometimes forgets that she's supposed to wash herself every day now.
Likes: Boromir (although she strongly denies that he’s her lust object), trying new experiences, Baroque music, the smell of sweat.
Dislikes: Heavy metal, being called “Hilda”, spicy food, people assuming that she speaks Elvish languages just because she’s from Arda.
* * *
Control Prompt: One agent tells the other how they were recruited/We see both agents recruited.
“So, you’ve never told me, how did you come to join the PPC?”
Sean Bellman’s favourite way of distracting himself while walking to the Cafeteria was by talking to his companion: in this case his partner, Agent Hild.
“Oh, the usual way,” she replied. “I fell through a plothole and landed in one of the corridors.”
Sean grinned. “Only in this place could that be considered ‘the usual way’.”
“Well, my plothole was larger than most, if you want something unusual. My author had never actually written my story, and very little was fixed. I didn’t know at the time, of course, but she actually thought she was doing me a favour by keeping it unwritten and flexible.” Somehow Hild managed to giggle and sigh at the same time. “Have you ever heard anything so silly?”
“I guess not. So what happened?”
“Well, apparently she never quite decided whether the messengers with Boromir’s ransom demand would be sent to Imladris, Isengard, or direct to Minas Tirith, and what happened to them anyway. Not that I knew anything about that. The first I knew anything was wrong was on our flight from the bandit camp. We overtook the messengers to Imladris, who were flickering in and out of existence. I reached out to touch one, and fell into the space where he wasn’t.”
She gestured around at the corridor, and continued. “When I landed in HQ, I thought I’d died and gone to Mandos. I was disappointed that it wasn’t as grand as I’d expected. I wondered if maybe that was just for elves, and humans got the plainer end of the Halls. Then half a dozen or so agents ran in, grabbed me, and dragged me off. And after I’d been analysed and tested, they told me who I was. And that’s when I learned I was fictional.”
“Must’ve been a nasty shock.”
“Not really, it explained all the strange inconsistencies in my life. Everything seemed to make much more sense. Maybe it would’ve been different if I’d been from a written story. One that was complete and made sense” She shrugged, then continued. “Anyway, I decided to stick around because I had nowhere else to go. What about you?”
“Me?”
“Yes. How did you join?”
“Oh, the usual way.” Sean smiled. “Well, what would be the usual way in most places. Nothing as usual as yours, of course!”
“Very funny!” She shoved him playfully. “Come on, tell me more.”
“It’s really not that interesting.”
“Come on. You know I love learning about your world.”
“Well, after I lost that job with the publishers - I told you about that, right?”
“Yes.”
“OK, well, I was having trouble finding a new one. One day, there were a couple of ads that looked promising. It was either this, or be paid five pounds to move a piano from one room to another.”
Not surprisingly, she didn’t get the joke. “And you chose this one?”
“Yeah. The job ad was pretty vague, but I applied anyway. Went for an interview, at a small office in south London. I saw a pompous little guy named Rogers. He asked me all sorts of strange questions, but wouldn’t say what the job was about. And the really weird thing is, when I left, I could’ve sworn the building was a couple of blocks away from where it had been when I entered.”
“Knowing this lot, I’m not surprised. Probably a final test or something.”
“Yeah. Anyway, I must’ve passed. The next day, a portal appeared in my living room, and Rogers asked me to step through. I didn’t know what was going on, but went along with it anyway. Curiosity, I guess.”
“And when you found out, you decided to stay?”
“Yeah. They wanted to put me in Bad Het because of my experience rejecting romance manuscripts, but I’d had enough of that. And besides, I still don’t see why they need two departments. Bad romance is bad romance, no matter whether it just happens to be het or slash.”
“Ooooh! Did someone mention slash?” The new speaker was Agent Luxury. She jumped up from her table and bounced over to them excitedly. “That’s my fave subject ever.”
They’d finally reached the Cafeteria.
* * *
Random Prompt: One or both agents realise they are beginning to lose enthusiasm for their favourite canon due to all the badfic.
I still don’t believe it,” grumbled Sean, as the two agents stepped through the portal back into their RC. “Upstairs gave us an Observer/Bobo PWP.”
“Well, they were Replacement Sues, after all,” said Hild. “The Sorting Room probably thought assassins would deal with them better than badslashers. It’s like that Hunger Games/Crying Game crossover we had a couple of weeks ago. The one where she couldn’t’ve been the real Katniss because she had a —”
“No, it’s not that.” Sean slumped into his chair. “It’s just that fic. I mean, how could someone call herself an MST3K fan and still write that?”
Hild walked over to the fridge and took out a couple of Bleepbeers. “Want to tell me about it?”
“MST3K means a lot to me.” Sean accepted the proffered drink. “When I had that dead-end job with the publishers, sometime the only thing that got me through the day was imagining Mike and the Bots riffing the manuscripts.” He took a long drink of his Bleepbeer, then continued. “I still do it on missions sometimes, but I don’t think I can manage that after this.”
“Why not? You coped after that fic where the Sue tried to save Frank from Torgo.”
“This was worse. Much worse. Now every time I think of MST, I’ll imagine Bobo with that big heart shaved into his hairy back, and the words ‘Brain’ and ‘Guy’ tattooed on his bright red buttocks. No amount of Bleeprin’s gonna get an image like that out of my mind.”
“Could FicPsych help?”
“I’m not letting them mess around in my head! I had enough of that back on World One.”
“Well, is there anything I can do?”
Sean managed a little smile. “No, but thanks for offering anyway.” There was a brief, awkward pause, then Sean continued, “You’ll understand when it happens to you. Not the shrinks. Losing your love for your favourite canon after too much badfic.”
Hild thought about this for a moment. “Maybe one day. I don’t know. I don’t
think I’ve got a favourite yet,” she said. “I mean, I know quite a few canons from basic training, of course. But that’s about all. ”
“What about Middle-earth?”
“That’s different. That was my home. You don’t stop loving the land where you were born because of stuff that happened after you left.”
“Guess not.”
Another pause; the two agents continued drinking their Bleepbeers lost in thought.
“Hey, I have an idea.” Hild broke the silence and leaned forward in her chair, a grin spreading wide across her face. “Could we reopen the portal back into the beginning of the fic?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think anyone’s ever tried it before. But why go back there?”
“We get whatshisname, Cambot, on our side, get him to record everything, and play it back for Mike and friends to riff on afterwards. That should help, right? Now when think of it, you’ll think of their riffs instead.”
Sean paused for a moment or two then said, “It’s probably impossible, and even if it isn’t, it probably won’t work, and even if it does, it’ll probably be against every rule in the book. But what have we got to lose? Let’s give it a go.”
He sprang from his chair and dashed over to the console, with something of his old determination in his face again.
Congratulations on the permission request. Now I need to get mine, eventually.
Oh...you were waiting for another PG? Sorry about that, I've been in tech since Thursday. So, let's have a look.
I like the characters. You seem to have put a lot of thought into them, which is always a plus.
Now the prompts, yes?
The control prompt is good. I would like to point out that Bad Het is a division of Bad Slash, but that is a smallish thing. The rest is pretty good, though somewhat lacking in description, as others have pointed out.
The random prompt is definitely a different tone from the control, which is good. I like the solution they come up with in the end. Totally against regulation, I'm sure, but that's what makes it fun.
All in all, I like it. You don't have a badfic yet, but I'm not too worried about it since the writing is strong.
So, Permission Granted!
Congratulations.
-Phobos *Crawls back into a dark theatre*
*gives cookies*
Nice, Pippa! :D
It's dangerous to go alone. Take this: a brand-spanking new Silver Spork!
Have some banana chocolate chip coffee cake! (I got it from Starbucks via a time warp.)
(*dances around happily and showers the board with Wine Gums*)
Oh, and I have got a basic ready:
https://www.fanfiction.net/s/5757949/1/EveryFangirlsDream
Enjoy your newfound absolute power-- wait, do we still give that out with Permission? I forget.
hS
Turns out, it was really expensive. We hand out a 50/50 mix of, the much less expensive, great power and great responsibility, now. We get it premixed by Uncle Ben's.
-Phobos
What about the ability to become more powerful than you can possibly imagine (being struck down optional)? Or some POWAH! UNLIMITED POWWAHH!
Here's the Random Prompt re-done with extra added narration.
* * *
“I still don’t believe it,” grumbled Sean, as the two agents stepped through the portal back into their RC. “Upstairs gave us an Observer/Bobo PWP.”
“Well, they were Replacement Sues, after all,” said Hild. “The Sorting Room probably thought assassins would deal with them better than badslashers. It’s like that Hunger Games/Crying Game crossover we had a couple of weeks ago. The one where she couldn’t’ve been the real Katniss because she had a —”
“No, it’s not that.” Sean slumped into his chair. “It’s just that fic. I mean, how could someone call herself an MST3K fan and still write that?”
Hild had never seen Sean like that before. Normally after a particularly bad fic, he would take out his frustration on the punch bag hanging in the corner of the RC. But this, this was different.
She walked over to the fridge and took out a couple of Bleepbeers. “Want to tell me about it?”
“MST3K means a lot to me.” Sean accepted the proffered drink. “When I had that dead-end job with the publishers, sometime the only thing that got me through the day was imagining Mike and the Bots riffing the manuscripts.” He took a long drink of his Bleepbeer, then continued. “I still do it on missions sometimes, but I don’t think I can manage that after this.”
“Why not? You coped after that fic where the Sue tried to save Frank from Torgo.”
“This was worse. Much worse. Now every time I think of MST, I’ll imagine Bobo with that big heart shaved into his hairy back, and the words ‘Brain’ and ‘Guy’ tattooed on his bright red buttocks. No amount of Bleeprin’s gonna get an image like that out of my mind.”
“Could FicPsych help?”
“I’m not letting them mess around in my head! I had enough of that back on World One.”
“Well, is there anything I can do?”
Sean managed a little smile. “No, but thanks for offering anyway.” There was a brief, awkward pause, then Sean continued, “You’ll understand when it happens to you. Not the shrinks. Losing your love for your favourite canon after too much badfic.”
Hild thought about this for a moment. “Maybe one day. I don’t know. I don’t think I’ve got a favourite yet,” she said. “I mean, I know quite a few canons from basic training, of course. But that’s about all. ”
“What about Middle-earth?”
“That’s different. That was my home. You don’t stop loving the land where you were born because of stuff that happened after you left.”
“Guess not.”
Another pause; the two agents continued drinking their Bleepbeers lost in thought. Sean was staring down at the floor. Hild wanted to go over to him and give him a big hug, but she knew that wouldn't help much. Sean was not a touchy-feely person.
She turned her glance away from him, and found herself looking over towards the console. It's ridiculous, she thought. With all this magical technology at our disposal, there must be something we can do to change things. What if...
“Hey, I have an idea.” Hild broke the silence and leaned forward in her chair, a grin spreading wide across her face. “Could we reopen the portal back into the beginning of the fic?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think anyone’s ever tried it before. But why go back there?”
“We get whatshisname, Cambot, on our side, get him to record everything, and play it back for Mike and friends to riff on afterwards. That should help, right? Now when think of it, you’ll think of their riffs instead.”
Sean paused for a moment or two then said, “It’s probably impossible, and even if it isn’t, it probably won’t work, and even if it does, it’ll probably be against every rule in the book. But what have we got to lose? Let’s give it a go.”
He sprang from his chair and dashed over to the console, with something of his old determination in his face again.
He seems funny 8)
Solid, well-rounded agents, in my opinion; I like them a lot!
Everyone seems to like my characters, but no-one's deciding anything about Permission. :(
I'm sure the other PGs just haven't been on the board in the past day or so; they're sure to see it fairly soon. The fact that your characters are getting some positive feedback is probably indicative of the PG's possible decision!
To tackle those in reverse order: I'm not making a decision because I'm the resident Tolkien geek - as you've probably sussed - and I don't think I can objectively judge Hild. She's just way too far into my 'that's awesome' band. If I were in a decision-making frame of mind, I'd probably say yes - but I'll abdicate that responsibility to someone else.
And the comment: Kaitlyn's pointed out to me that your dialogue is superb, but your narration is virtually non-existent. And she made a suggestion:
Have you considered script format? You're practically writing in it anyway ('Another pause; the two agents continued drinking their Bleepbeers lost in thought' could be stuck into the present tense and square brackets or whatever and need no change at all), and it seems to be suited to your strengths while avoiding your confessed weaknesses/dislikes. And we've never had script-format missions before - the Playscriptes take place entirely in HQ.
There's also the fact that it's the most common format for MSTs and actual MST3K fanfic, which you're very much into - so it could be something of a homage.
And just to demonstrate how close you are to it already, the opening of your Control Prompt:
Interesting idea. I'm not sure how well that would work for a mission to a normal, non-script fic. It would have the side effect of putting a feeling of distance between the agents and the fic's narrated action, rather than placing them in the thick of events.
(Hmmm... Maybe a fic where the SPaG's so bad, the agents operate an emergency option on their RA to take them outside the narration, and they end up in script format as a result? I just have to find a suitable fic and hope it doesn't drive me flamethrower-crazy.)
Ironically, my most recent stalled project is a scriptfic: a Round the Horne/LOTR crossover. You've inspired me to go back and have another go at that.
(You may have noticed I'm frequently of the opinion that questions can best be answered through story)
For this exercise, I'll be taking an excerpt from early in Garden of Noncoty, Narto and Lou's first mission.
Maybe it would be prudent to say that your agents are in the Department of Technical Errors instead of Mary Sues. That is, if I understand that you speculate you could do the script-fic more than just once or twice.
I don't think my sanity could cope with more than just a couple of bad-SPaG fics. And I'll also try to use normal narrated missions to improve my narration and description.
OTOH I've already hinted that my agents are going to be assigned new partners at some point. Maybe one of them could be moved to DoTE then.
I think this is great! Hild came up with a really clever idea at the end of the second prompt, and the first one was pretty funny. You've clearly been perfecting these two for a while now. Nice work, Pippa! (Also, Sean and Hild play off each other very well. I find that important, that kind of banter between leads.)
Is the fic Hild came from one of your own or did you just make up something plausible? Either way, I might like to read that particular story. It sounds pretty good. =)
Glad you enjoyed it.
Yes, Hild's unwritten fic is one of my own. (And sorry, but I'd have to actually write it before you could read it, so you'll be in for a long wait.)