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Please say so. If you don't like it, don't care about it, don't think people would care about it, please say so, and explain why. I might be missing something extremely important or simple here. I know I can be a little dim at times and if I've seriously missed something, just know that this idea is and was in earnest, with good intent. I am really just looking for any feedback at all on this.

In my quest for the obscure I came across this database of Ancient Roman graffiti found in the ruins of Pompeii:

http://www.pompeiana.org/Resources/Ancient/Graffiti%20from%20Pompeii.htm

It reminds me of the website Texts From Last Night, Texts From Nights Long Past, perhaps?

I'll add some badfic to the thread if I see anything. Hang on, do you guys spork Creepypastas? They seem to be a bit different from other fanfic in that the ones that are actually fanfic (Lost Episode pastas, Weird Things My Game Did pastas, etc.) tend to be less story-like (haphazard plots, not too much involvement of canons, etc.) I was going to search for some to see if I could find anything, but then I realized that about the nature of the genre. Any thoughts?

-Twistey

That's the point, the post didn't make any sense, thus I labeled it high-density ultraweirdness.

Thoth is another PPCer who is into Warhammer 40K. He's a pretty good dude, and is active frequently here. He also has a friend he recruited called Grundleplith The Dorf, but the latter doesn't seem to have been active lately.

Huh, you seem to have a good deal of stuff figured out. I'll leave this to you, then.

-Twistey

Oh dear. On second thought, I wonder if I should avoid the Discord server, just to keep my sanity...

-Twistey

(Thongs can be found even in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light.)

I don't really buy a lot of those "playing a sound like such and such turns it into messages/words/etc" things unless it's an Easter egg in a game (e.g. the one from Portal where the radio sounds can be run through an audio-to-visual program and it'll produce a picture of a Companion Cube on the moon.) Can you further explain?

-Twistey

"What do you mean you don't have any other clothes?"

Cass sighed and flopped onto the bed like a sack of studiously indifferent potatoes. "I don't need any other clothes, Em. That's what the Disguise Generator's for."

"Oh. My. God. You have not been wearing the same outfit for the past three months." Em clambered out of the armchair and folded her arms, her foot tapping indignantly on the floor. "Like, have you even been doing laundry?"

"... Spells count, right?"

"You are unbelievable."

"You're a weregerbil."

"Don't change the subject." Em twitched her nose. "We are taking you clothes shopping and don't even try to get out of it."

"Look, Emma, if you want to go clothes shopping, I won't stop you. Go. Take my purse if you want to, I know you blew threw your money for this month already. I just don't care about how I look. It doesn't matter to me."

"Huh." Emma stopped tapping her foot, deep in thought. "Damn. You hate it that much?"

"Hate implies I care about it."

"Huh."

The clock in the corner of the room ticked. Every one seemed louder than the last. The RC beeped the beep of the righteous. The bathroom mirror prophesied their inevitable doom, which told them it was a Tuesday.

"Can I ask a question, Cass?"

"You may."

"Pedant. Anyway, were you serious about me taking your purse shopping on El Worldo Uno? I know how you are with money."

"If it got me out of a shopping trip I would let you have my friggin' kidney."

"Wow. Uh. Okay. I mean, uh, I knew you didn't like it? But... yeah."

"I'm technically an adult, and adults get to decide what that means. In my case? Wear one set of clothing until it's basically a bunch of loosely connected holes, then buy the exact same outfit. Clothes shopping is an experience akin to having both my legs broken with a hammer and I never want to do it again."

"Fine! Jeez. Like, you made your point."

"Hey, I wouldn't make you go to LeakyCon-"

"Ugh. Gurl, for real, can you not with that name? I know what the history is, but it just sounds like a bunch of old folks packed into a convention centre talking about adult diapers."

"My point exactly."

"Dude, I said you already made your damn point. I get it, okay?"

"Yeah. I... yeah. Sorry."

"It's okay, Cass." Em sat down beside her and ruffled her hair. "You're okay. You don't have to do anything you don't want to ever again, okay?"

The clocks kept ticking. Louder and louder. Filling the silence until Cassie could speak again.

"Okay."

[REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE~]

"Ohfercryinoutloud. Cass, you wanna get that?"

"Sure. Um. Wow. Potterverse AU where all the magic is replaced with spy gadgets. This seems... dumb."

"Oh, jeez. At least it's your wheelhouse."

"And I know you came from KP, so the spy stuff? Your wheelhouse. Come on, Em, let's get the DG out. Black cargo trousers and T-shirts ahoy."

"Sweet. Just... Cassie?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't forget your pants."

Quick key:
-Naergondir and Gurnirel are SIELU agents and Noldorin Elves of the First Age of Middle-earth (aka, Tolkien Elves of Dafydd's earlier days). Being Elves, they have a lot of names between them. Most do not appear here.
-Osellë=sworn sister (Quenya)
-Otorno=sworn brother (Quenya). Both are left untranslated even when they're presumably speaking Quenya because it gets very clunky.
-Aman and Valinor are the same place.

I'm not sure yet if this is or will be canon at some point, but...you never know! It's certainly something I could see happening...let's call it canon-adjacent for now. Feedback welcome. Thank you also to the people who gave me feedback on the last prompt I did; I really appreciate it, and mainly didn't reply due to getting tired and sick until after it made its way off the front page. ~Z


---


"You cannot leave." Naergondir moved nimbly to block the door. His one hand rested against the closest of the trees which, with a variety of other flora, filled their RC; his other he held out, as though to keep his partner at bay. "Osellë, our place is here now. It must be."

Gurnirel hefted the pack onto her shoulders with a sigh. "I will never be content to live out my years in this place, otorno," she said. Her voice was soft. "Never. You know this."

"Do you not think the Valar were clear?" Naergondir stayed where he was. "We are barred from Valinor, Gurnirel. This--this is what we are to do."

"Is it?" Gurnirel pulled her long golden braid out from under the pack, resettling it behind one shoulder. "How can you be certain? How can you know that we were not merely sent here as a warning, as a sign that we must remain with the others of our kindred who are barred from Aman?"

"Surely here we may work towards forgiveness." Naergondir's throat ached as he spoke; he forced the words out anyway. "We are protecting our kindred here, Saileldë, in a way that we never could before. Surely this will someday earn us a place in Valinor, if anything will. Surely--"

"I cannot believe that." Gurnirel began to walk toward him, skirting roots as she went. "I will not. I tried, Naergondir. I did. But this is not our home, my home. This is not even our world. How can I stay here, a stranger, when my son yet lives in Middle-earth? When he is forced to play servant to Sue after Sue? I cannot remain here." She came to a stop in front of him. Their eyes met. "Step aside, otorno. Come with me if you will; but do not attempt to stop me if you will not. For whether with you or alone, I am bound away."

"And if this, as all else, should turn to evil end?" Naergondir let his hand fall, but didn't step aside. "We are the Dispossessed, Gurnirel. Are you so eager to shed more tears?"

"I would shed them in my home world," Gurnirel said. "I would shed them where I can feel the eyes of the Valar on me." She reached out, clasping his shoulder. "I have already shed them here," she said quietly. "If I am to shed more--let it be in a land where I can see the sky and feel the ground."

For a time, they stood simply looking at one another. At last, Naergondir bowed his head and stepped aside.

"May you find peace," he said. "Bear my regards to your son, should he wish to hear them."

"I shall do so." Gurnirel offered her hand; when Naergondir reached out to take it, she gripped his forearm in a warrior's clasp. "May we meet again one day in Aman."

When she had gone, Naergondir stood among the tangle of trees and vines and stared at the door to the RC. The generic gray still appeared foreign to his eyes; even the flora that crowded their RC--his, now--was not entirely familiar.

"When will I see you again?" he murmured. "What will befall us now we have left each other's company?"

He half expected her to return, to open the door and explain that she had had a change of heart. That was not her way, though; it never had been. Once Gurnirel had made a decision, she did not easily alter it.

He turned away, running his fingers along bark and vines as he approached the console. Perhaps it would provide him with a mission; he was eager to return to protecting his kin.

(Perhaps she would be there now, the Vanyarin-blooded Noldo whose path had twisted with and diverged from his again and again throughout the First Age. She would no longer be able to see him if he didn't make his presence known--but that was the price to pay for protecting Arda from the disastrous effects of poor writing. And he had made his choice, just as she had now made hers.)

Please, he thought. It wasn't quite a prayer; he was too fearful what might come of prayers to use them easily now. Let this be the end. Let us earn forgiveness at last.

The Doom of Mandos rang in his ears, his only companion until--

[BEEEEEEP!]

Now I am.

Thank you! It is quite nice to see Farilan slowly coming around under the influence of Ilraen's charm, such as it is. And to show just how far he's come as a mature, knowledgeable individual who might be writing a food blog in his spare time.

(Actually, next time someone wants to do a Multiverse Monitor again, I'll have to whip up something along those lines. Ought to be fun.)

Alas, Ilraen did not so much retrieve the MBoM as get chased down the corridor by it until he finally lost it in an Escher room or something. It is still very much at large in HQ, waiting to ambush the next unsuspecting passerby. {= )

~Neshomeh

I guess I would have enjoyed it even more if I had read Edgar Allen Poe’s version first.

Apparently Poe picked up some German words, but then he misremembered or he didn’t learn the construction rules for compound nouns. The alcoholic beverage distilled from cherries ("Kirschen", singular "Kirsche") is called "Kirschwasser" and the alcoholic beverage distilled from raspberries ("Himbeeren", singular "Himbeere") is called "Himbeergeist".

But if the spirit is distilled from pears ("Birnen", singular "Birne"), it is called "Birnengeist" or "Birnenschnaps", so we don’t always use the singular and drop a trailing "e"? German is a weird language.

And I just realized that "kirschwasser" would be an English word, too, although simply "kirsch" is more usual (and is not cherry brandy).

HG, not longing for a drink now

... for the reasons doctorlit already spelled out.

Two nitpicks:
... for a few days with with his family for Christmas.

... summed up by the photo she was looking at the moment.
Although it looks and sounds weird, you need two consecutive "at" here, one for the phrase "the photo she was looking at", and one for the phrase "at the moment".

HG

As Scapegrace says, the 'slightly less restricted' books are PPCers' NaNos. Kraken-Knights is mine, Magical Adventures is by BeautyID and is the best thing ever, and Glede is an Alec Troven book by kippur which had a cool, eye-catching title.

hS

A GOOD MISSION THE BEST MISSION
Ahem.

I've gotten peeks at this at various stages of its writing process. It really is a beautiful thing, seeing it all put together and fancy now. In no particular order:

The treatment of the original fic-as-legendary is unigue, but subtle; the pall of off-ness in the surroundings in part two gets across the idea that something is wrong with everything without being overly dramatic or giving air time to actual torture porn itself.

The choices of color and creature for the PPC Zords are so spot-on and wonderful, and I love that the mission essentially follows the format of a Mighty Morphin' episode. But I love that bringing giant robots into the mission wasn't enough on its own—that the agents needed a canon character, especially the one the fic was trying to attack, to put in the really decisive victory. Kimberley's speech against the dark ranger is perfect and wonderful, and I feel like the character deserved to give such a speech, both in this fic and in general. And I loved that Bulk and Skull got a cameo at the end, not only for the fun of it, but because the characters who were always the silliest part of the show make an excellent counter to the serious, angsty subject matter of "Agony in Pink." (And their theme song played in my head of its own volition.)

The cameos from veterans of legendary missions past are excellent. It makes for a great love letter to July's history with the PPC, and the teamwork aspect stands as a thematic contrast to the singling-out selfish wish fulfillment in the original badfic.

The goodbyes at the end, especially the one between Agent!July and Library feel so sad for me, but at the same time, July kept a note of hope in there, too. The parallel is clear: that the friendships between us are bigger than the PPC, and can continue even as people drift away from the community. Same goes for seaman!July using her PPC knowledge in her future career; I don't think any of us ever truly stop being PPC, and the knowledge and wisdom we gain in this community stick with us as we move forward and grow.

This mission is beautiful. This is the PPC, both in-universe, and the community. Thank you, July, for giving us this brilliant piece!

Go, go, Plot Protectors!

—doctorlit

It's been two weeks since the last prompt, although it may feel like longer to some people. This time, the prompt is:

"Don't forget your pants!"


Don't ask me why. It's a long story.

Novastorme

On your points about continuity flubs:-

This is indeed taking place before DMSE&R was merged into DAS. Agamemnon is sometime cameo-haver Algernon Wymbourne (of the DIA)'s teenage son - when this story's set, he's somewhere between fourteen and seventeen, because I am extremely uncomfortable about sending people under the age of majority on missions in which they might die. The PPC is a fun and happy place, and child soldiery and the implications thereof are not a subject I wish to cover in a proper spinoff.

Lilianna is indeed a Mary-Sue, and one of the worst type; one who Just Doesn't Care about the setting she's violating. The point of her badfic was to do a love story between the author's idealized self-insert her and Jonathan Strange, of & Mr Norrell fame. She treats her husband cruelly and barely thinks about her son because they were little more than set dressing except when they were obstacles to be overcome. In terms of PPC canon, Algie fell through one of the plot holes she created and (with a little help from the Guardsman) persuaded the DoI to pull everyone out, including all the manor's servants.

In many ways, Algie and Agamemnon are the polar opposites in terms of sentiment and style to Lilianna: stiff where she is informal, distant where she is approachable, that sort of thing. While these were traits assigned to them, it's continued into their tenure as PPC staffers. Algie is a good and principled man, who feels a duty of care to almost everyone he meets; Agamemnon is a dandy and a wit who uses manners and repartee to mask deep insecurities and unwarranted shame.

As to the decor of DMSE&R... well, that's a straight-up screwup on my part, I'm sorry to say. In my defence, I've never read any of Lily Winterwood's stuff, but that's a pretty rubbish defence, particularly when the wiki is a thing. I should have checked, and I should have done better. Of course, places with clean white walls and skylights can still have deeply oppressive atmospheres; the decor can only do so much to hide the sawbones and the screams. Still, it was a mistake and one which I shall not make again. =]

At least in the case of that last one, it's a NaNoWriMo project of hS's. Go read it on his LiveJournal before the KGB requisition it, it's pretty good. =]

As for the book, I'm gonna sort that out in a bit. =]

It's about giving, y'know? You get to keep the books. Maybe they're annotated by the giver. There's probably easier ways to do this. But it's an idea, is all. Might not be a good one - open for discussion.

(Disclaimer: This is not something that is implemented currently, nor do I think that this idea is fully fleshed out, but it is something that genuinely interests me and I think it might be interesting to you all, too.)

This is an idea that I've been throwing around, a little bit in the discord, and a little bit in my own head: What if there was a way people could just gift each other books in the PPC?

This is going to be a bit of a long post. So, bear with me, and please please please if you find anything wrong with this at all, or if you find any way the idea could be improved upon I would love to hear it!

The base idea is this, in a couple steps:
To have a database (perhaps a googledoc?) where people can share books that they own/want to donate, complete with titles, who'd be willing to donate it, and a review. (I'd personally like each book to have a review, and maybe even a tagging system, like "Sci-Fi" or "Fantasy". That'd be really cool, imo.)

So, after the database is there, the people who want books can just send whoever has the book a message, or somehow communicate with them that they'd like the book. Or maybe someone has a book that they really would like to give to someone else! (I have a lot of books which I know certain people would love!)

And once those two people have communicated enough, this is where I'd like to voice and possibly answer a concern. "Are people comfortable with sharing where they live/where their general location is?" And my answer, is that it really depends - some people are open, others aren't - I personally use drop locations, which aren't where I live, but around the general area where I can pick up packages and stuff. For the system to work and hopefully make people more comfortable, those who are interested in sharing books would talk to an established third party within the community. This third party would be the middleman - They would know and not share the information of where people receive books, and would also know where people are sending books from. They would be the only ones who know this information, aside from the sender and receiver, respectively. The sender would send the book to the third party, who would check and see that "yes, this is really the book, and nothing else (unless specified)" and the third party would send it off to the person who wanted the book.

That's probably a really long and convoluted way of explaining what I'd like to have, if this idea ever came to be. A database, a third party, and people willing to give general/specific locations of where they send and receive stuff to the third party.

A couple issues which I've already thought of, and can't really come up with good answers to.

1. Shipping.
That stuff is expensive. Who would be paying to send the books? How would that work out? Maybe determine between the two people?
2. Reliability of the third party.
How do we know that the third party isn't just going to take our books and just vanish disappear? We'd have to establish a person or two who are comfortable with doing this, and who are trusted members of the community.
3. What about people who've been offered books, want to receive them, but are unwilling to give a receiving location?
There's a lot of conditional and subjective stuff.

That's really all I've thought of for now, but if you have any questions, thoughts, or concerns, please let me know!

If you know 40k, you can understand/infer the rest of the reasons it might hurt. Erek either died long ago in peace, or was a casualty in The Burning of Prospero, which was the final straw that lead Thoth's legion to join Chaos (not exactly willingly... it's complicated). Not to mention all the repression Space Marines have of all sorts of emotional stuff, which means any meetings they may have had would have been painful.

I have nothing else to say. Just... Wow. This is amazing.