My first PPCing attempt!
The story goes like this. I was chatting with a few friends at Responsible Writers of Fandom, and we decided to do some PPCing. I selected to do this wonder of a fanfiction: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/3287941/1/
Elrond’s hands shook, making the paper he clutched crinkle loudly. He looked at the young mortal woman who stood at attention with her eyes cast down as though to say, “Slay not the messenger!”
“Who are your masters that send you on this errand?” He stooped to look into the young woman’s face. “Why do they call themselves the letters, Parma, Parma, Calma?”
“Sir- I mean, Lord, it is an acronym for Protectors of Plot and Continuum, Lord!”
“And when should I expect these guests?”
“Lord, momentarily. We’re suffering the introduction as we speak, Lord!” The messenger vanished, leaving a very angry Elven Lord clutching a piece of paper, watching his house turn into a vast city.
Another person of authority was clutching a piece of paper, muttering curses in black speech, except this was a woman. She was wearing her cosplay Arwen dress with muddy hiking boots. “Skai! Tell me, pushuruk, why did you send in the newbie to tell Elrond of the impending OOCness? You know she’s an Elrond Fangirl!”
The person quivering in terror before her was also dressed in a plain black uniform that could look like they were boring shades of green wool with mud stains up to the knees that let her slip into book or movie canon as a peasant without raising an eyebrow. “Sir! I thought it would be good for her to see Elrond at his most frightening, Sir!”
“You thought wrong. Sha!" She circled the offender, stomping her hiking boots. “Look at what I found on that girl’s DeviantART account. Look!”
The offender looked. A bad sketch on notepaper was strewn on the desk. It was of an amorous, nude Hugo Weaving lying on a velvet bed.
“Elrond Fanart! I had to report her to the Department of ‘Artistic’ Abominations! That girl’s life has been ruined. RUINED, you hear me?”
“Sir, yes, sir!”
“I would suspend you, Saewen, but we have an emergency on our hands, a Fic so full of pushuruk that we need to nip it off while it’s young.” The person of authority pointed at the consol. The screen read:
“Sacrifices by AnimeFreaks92
[LegolasxOC]Elenadae is a fairy elf.She's in love with a certain elf.But she has secrets of her own, and a few deadly ones too.Can Elendae get the return love from Legolas, or will she end up with a broke heart?NOTE:Takes place during the Fellowship movie”
“It’s a one day job. The story is only the prologue thus far, so the damage isn’t far spread, but the amount of crimes committed in that short space promises to wreak havoc on Eä. Can I trust you to go on assignment?”
Saewen saluted. “Sir, it’d be an honor, sir!”
“Good luck, soldier,” she muttered as Saewen the Poisoner frog marched off to enter another badfic.
Being an agent in a badfic is a very odd place to be. Not only did she see the world that the author wrote, but she heard the words of the story. Canon characters couldn’t notice her while in that limbo, and non-canon characters would have a hard time seeing her while her SEP (Somebody Else’s Problem) generator was on. It was this world that Saewen appeared in.
Saewen checked her belt. She didn’t actually have poisons with her, just a flask of wine and goblet infused with a canon concentrate. Harmless to agents (though it tended to make them a little heady) and canon characters, but deadly to original characters that didn’t fit into canon. Her chosen weapon. Besides that, she had the obligatory CAD (Canon Analysis Device), neuralyser, and Babelfish.
She flinched as the first words of the story echoed around her. Too bad there wasn’t a volume control here. At least she could pick her nose here and no one would know.
A valley spread out before her, filled to the brim with houses, towers, and markets. The story said this was supposed to be Rivendell. Strike one. She pulled out the little notebook and scribbled.
The story pushed her towards a water fountain in the middle of the metropolis. It was oddly devoid of activity, except for a small boy with feminine, blonde hair. He seemed unhappy,
probably because he had feminine hair, Saewen mused. Another strike.
Then she heard a young voice say something wholly uncouth and completely out of place as the voice itself: Grelvish, or Grey-Company Elvish. The Grey Company was a role-playing group that needed an Elven language for the world they created, so they made their own, and it was often mistaken for Tolkien’s. Another strike.
Then she saw the source of the Grelvish.
A delicate, beautiful, perfect, little girl with huge, glittering, pale blue butterfly wings on her back and large, purple eyes was hovering near by the boy with feminine hair. Saewen’s Suedar was going crazy. This was worth two strikes, at least. Cackling, she started scribbling on her notepad, but it was knocked from her hands by a very bad spelling error. That had to be worth another strike for annoyance, not to mention mangling the English language.
Suddenly her CAD started shrieking. What, already? she thought as she pulled it out. The little green screen flashed a name and a percentage. “Legolas Thranduilion, Elven male, canon, Out Of Character 98%.” Her mouth dropped open. This was bad. This meant that only two things about Legolas had been gotten right: his gender and his name.
As she scribbled this new affliction down another one took place: Melodrama in the first degree. The winged terror fell into the fountain, then ran off in a storm of tears, being chased after by the feminine hair boy. Damnit, now she would have to give chase. She hated running. Oh,
thisSue was going to get it.
Panting, she brought up the rear, quite glad that no one could see her dripping face and disheveled appearance. Her clammy fingers slipped on the pen she clutched as she scribbled notes. The Sue and “Legolas” were having a very melodramatic heart-to-heart conversation that made her sick to think about. The Sue wined about being a fairy that couldn’t fly, and Legolas whined about being the prince… of Lorien. No wonder the CAD had gone crazy.
Suddenly she was knocked to the side. The character that had done the knocking didn’t notice her because the SED generator was still on, leaving her to scramble after her notepad, pen, and CAD, which had started wailing again. She gathered it just in time to hear “Aragorn Arathornion, Human male, Canon, Out Of Character 90%” say the Sue’s name, “Princess Elenadae”. The name was so ridiculous that Saewen’s Babelfish stated ranting about the rape of Tolkien’s Elven languages, and she had to whack the side of her head several times in order to get it to shut up.
Finally, Aragorn and Legolas left the room. They passed by her, unable to see her use the Neuralyzer, and take advantage of their inert state to give them each a heavey-duty shot of canon. Legolas grew up instantly into a plain, blond Elf in unremarkable green and brown clothes, he vanished, obviously to Taur-nu-Fuin, where he belonged. Aragorn shrunk into a toddler, and ran away, yelling for his mommy. All alone with the Sue, she crept into the dimly-lit room, and turned off her SEP generator.
“Wh-who are you?” the Mary Sue sputtered.
Saewen smiled gently and unbuckled her goblets and flask of wine. “I’m Saewen. I heard you weeping from outside; it sounds like you need something to cheer you up.” She poured the wine into the goblets and set one on the bedside table for the Sue.
The Sue sniffled dramatically. “What is it?”
“It’s Miruvor, Elrond’s finest spiced wine! Don’t worry; I heated it so there’s no alcohol in it. Drink up!” She took a long draught, as though to prove to the Sue that there was nothing to be afraid of.
Cautiously, the Mary Sue took a drink. “Ugh! What was that?”
“Don’t worry; it’s not poisoned.” Saewen snatched up the Sue’s goblet and downed the rest of the wine. “Ah, now that is some good stuff. Lord Elrond is a fine cook, isn’t he?”
Flicking her shimmering wings impatiently, Princess Elenadae wrinkled her nose. “You’re weird.”
Saewen laughted. “I know. Now that I’m a little silly, I feel like I can ask you this question that’s been brewing in my head while I listened to your pathetic whining.”
The Sue leapt up, huffing. “What did you say?”
“What does it feel like?”
The Sue stared at her.
“I mean, what does it feel like to be loved and fawned over by everyone? To be a goddess?” Saewen’s face was lax and dreamy, but her eyes were ugly as an orc’s blade. “See, I rescued from a Mary Sue story myself, but I wasn’t the Mary Sue. I was the Anti-Sue, the evil character that the prim idiot had to fight to win over Legolas’ heart. Many of the other agents, they were Mary Sues first, so they have sympathy for characters like you, but not me.”
“Agents?” Princess Elenadae shouted, looking around frantically.
“Relax, they only sent me.” Saewen set her goblet down and fumbled toward the iridescent thing before her. “Do you know what your sins are?” she whispered, so the winged monstrosity could barely hear her.
The Sue shook her head, shaking madly.
The notebook opened. “Rivendell is a fortress, not a city. Mangling the English language. Elves use Sindarin, not Grelvish here. Those fragile wings couldn’t possibly support your weight. There are no fairies in Eä. Elenadae is not an Elven name, as my Babelfish told me repeatedly. Legolas Thranduilion is not a prince; he is not from Lorien, but from Mirkwood; and he didn’t grow up in Rivendell. Aragorn is hundreds of years younger than Arwen and Legolas. You annoy the heck out of me. Your melodrama fit made me run half a mile longer that I ever want to run for the rest of my life, and you are a blatant Mary Sue. Your sentence is expulsion from the story. What do you have to say for yourself?”
The Sue’s body had started to melt like the Wicked Witch of the West.
“You’re just jealous of me!” the Sue shrieked as her wings dripped into a pool of urple goo.
Saewen wrinkled her nose at the heavy, perfumed stench that drifted from the Sue’s skin. “Why would I envy someone dying a slow, painful death?”
The Sue tried to respond, but her perfect lips had melted off her face. Saewen sat there and watched till the urple and the city of Rivendell vanished into Imladris, a wild valley with steep sides. Everything was back to normal till the next Suethor came along.
Standing at a window in the Last Homely House, Lord Elrond let loose a sigh of relief, and forgot everything that had happened in the last few hours.
What do you think?
Elrond’s hands shook, making the paper he clutched crinkle loudly. He looked at the young mortal woman who stood at attention with her eyes cast down as though to say, “Slay not the messenger!”
“Who are your masters that send you on this errand?” He stooped to look into the young woman’s face. “Why do they call themselves the letters, Parma, Parma, Calma?”
“Sir- I mean, Lord, it is an acronym for Protectors of Plot and Continuum, Lord!”
“And when should I expect these guests?”
“Lord, momentarily. We’re suffering the introduction as we speak, Lord!” The messenger vanished, leaving a very angry Elven Lord clutching a piece of paper, watching his house turn into a vast city.
Another person of authority was clutching a piece of paper, muttering curses in black speech, except this was a woman. She was wearing her cosplay Arwen dress with muddy hiking boots. “Skai! Tell me, pushuruk, why did you send in the newbie to tell Elrond of the impending OOCness? You know she’s an Elrond Fangirl!”
The person quivering in terror before her was also dressed in a plain black uniform that could look like they were boring shades of green wool with mud stains up to the knees that let her slip into book or movie canon as a peasant without raising an eyebrow. “Sir! I thought it would be good for her to see Elrond at his most frightening, Sir!”
“You thought wrong. Sha!" She circled the offender, stomping her hiking boots. “Look at what I found on that girl’s DeviantART account. Look!”
The offender looked. A bad sketch on notepaper was strewn on the desk. It was of an amorous, nude Hugo Weaving lying on a velvet bed.
“Elrond Fanart! I had to report her to the Department of ‘Artistic’ Abominations! That girl’s life has been ruined. RUINED, you hear me?”
“Sir, yes, sir!”
“I would suspend you, Saewen, but we have an emergency on our hands, a Fic so full of pushuruk that we need to nip it off while it’s young.” The person of authority pointed at the consol. The screen read:
“Sacrifices by AnimeFreaks92
[LegolasxOC]Elenadae is a fairy elf.She's in love with a certain elf.But she has secrets of her own, and a few deadly ones too.Can Elendae get the return love from Legolas, or will she end up with a broke heart?NOTE:Takes place during the Fellowship movie”
“It’s a one day job. The story is only the prologue thus far, so the damage isn’t far spread, but the amount of crimes committed in that short space promises to wreak havoc on Eä. Can I trust you to go on assignment?”
Saewen saluted. “Sir, it’d be an honor, sir!”
“Good luck, soldier,” she muttered as Saewen the Poisoner frog marched off to enter another badfic.
Being an agent in a badfic is a very odd place to be. Not only did she see the world that the author wrote, but she heard the words of the story. Canon characters couldn’t notice her while in that limbo, and non-canon characters would have a hard time seeing her while her SEP (Somebody Else’s Problem) generator was on. It was this world that Saewen appeared in.
Saewen checked her belt. She didn’t actually have poisons with her, just a flask of wine and goblet infused with a canon concentrate. Harmless to agents (though it tended to make them a little heady) and canon characters, but deadly to original characters that didn’t fit into canon. Her chosen weapon. Besides that, she had the obligatory CAD (Canon Analysis Device), neuralyser, and Babelfish.
She flinched as the first words of the story echoed around her. Too bad there wasn’t a volume control here. At least she could pick her nose here and no one would know.
A valley spread out before her, filled to the brim with houses, towers, and markets. The story said this was supposed to be Rivendell. Strike one. She pulled out the little notebook and scribbled.
The story pushed her towards a water fountain in the middle of the metropolis. It was oddly devoid of activity, except for a small boy with feminine, blonde hair. He seemed unhappy,
probably because he had feminine hair, Saewen mused. Another strike.
Then she heard a young voice say something wholly uncouth and completely out of place as the voice itself: Grelvish, or Grey-Company Elvish. The Grey Company was a role-playing group that needed an Elven language for the world they created, so they made their own, and it was often mistaken for Tolkien’s. Another strike.
Then she saw the source of the Grelvish.
A delicate, beautiful, perfect, little girl with huge, glittering, pale blue butterfly wings on her back and large, purple eyes was hovering near by the boy with feminine hair. Saewen’s Suedar was going crazy. This was worth two strikes, at least. Cackling, she started scribbling on her notepad, but it was knocked from her hands by a very bad spelling error. That had to be worth another strike for annoyance, not to mention mangling the English language.
Suddenly her CAD started shrieking. What, already? she thought as she pulled it out. The little green screen flashed a name and a percentage. “Legolas Thranduilion, Elven male, canon, Out Of Character 98%.” Her mouth dropped open. This was bad. This meant that only two things about Legolas had been gotten right: his gender and his name.
As she scribbled this new affliction down another one took place: Melodrama in the first degree. The winged terror fell into the fountain, then ran off in a storm of tears, being chased after by the feminine hair boy. Damnit, now she would have to give chase. She hated running. Oh,
thisSue was going to get it.
Panting, she brought up the rear, quite glad that no one could see her dripping face and disheveled appearance. Her clammy fingers slipped on the pen she clutched as she scribbled notes. The Sue and “Legolas” were having a very melodramatic heart-to-heart conversation that made her sick to think about. The Sue wined about being a fairy that couldn’t fly, and Legolas whined about being the prince… of Lorien. No wonder the CAD had gone crazy.
Suddenly she was knocked to the side. The character that had done the knocking didn’t notice her because the SED generator was still on, leaving her to scramble after her notepad, pen, and CAD, which had started wailing again. She gathered it just in time to hear “Aragorn Arathornion, Human male, Canon, Out Of Character 90%” say the Sue’s name, “Princess Elenadae”. The name was so ridiculous that Saewen’s Babelfish stated ranting about the rape of Tolkien’s Elven languages, and she had to whack the side of her head several times in order to get it to shut up.
Finally, Aragorn and Legolas left the room. They passed by her, unable to see her use the Neuralyzer, and take advantage of their inert state to give them each a heavey-duty shot of canon. Legolas grew up instantly into a plain, blond Elf in unremarkable green and brown clothes, he vanished, obviously to Taur-nu-Fuin, where he belonged. Aragorn shrunk into a toddler, and ran away, yelling for his mommy. All alone with the Sue, she crept into the dimly-lit room, and turned off her SEP generator.
“Wh-who are you?” the Mary Sue sputtered.
Saewen smiled gently and unbuckled her goblets and flask of wine. “I’m Saewen. I heard you weeping from outside; it sounds like you need something to cheer you up.” She poured the wine into the goblets and set one on the bedside table for the Sue.
The Sue sniffled dramatically. “What is it?”
“It’s Miruvor, Elrond’s finest spiced wine! Don’t worry; I heated it so there’s no alcohol in it. Drink up!” She took a long draught, as though to prove to the Sue that there was nothing to be afraid of.
Cautiously, the Mary Sue took a drink. “Ugh! What was that?”
“Don’t worry; it’s not poisoned.” Saewen snatched up the Sue’s goblet and downed the rest of the wine. “Ah, now that is some good stuff. Lord Elrond is a fine cook, isn’t he?”
Flicking her shimmering wings impatiently, Princess Elenadae wrinkled her nose. “You’re weird.”
Saewen laughted. “I know. Now that I’m a little silly, I feel like I can ask you this question that’s been brewing in my head while I listened to your pathetic whining.”
The Sue leapt up, huffing. “What did you say?”
“What does it feel like?”
The Sue stared at her.
“I mean, what does it feel like to be loved and fawned over by everyone? To be a goddess?” Saewen’s face was lax and dreamy, but her eyes were ugly as an orc’s blade. “See, I rescued from a Mary Sue story myself, but I wasn’t the Mary Sue. I was the Anti-Sue, the evil character that the prim idiot had to fight to win over Legolas’ heart. Many of the other agents, they were Mary Sues first, so they have sympathy for characters like you, but not me.”
“Agents?” Princess Elenadae shouted, looking around frantically.
“Relax, they only sent me.” Saewen set her goblet down and fumbled toward the iridescent thing before her. “Do you know what your sins are?” she whispered, so the winged monstrosity could barely hear her.
The Sue shook her head, shaking madly.
The notebook opened. “Rivendell is a fortress, not a city. Mangling the English language. Elves use Sindarin, not Grelvish here. Those fragile wings couldn’t possibly support your weight. There are no fairies in Eä. Elenadae is not an Elven name, as my Babelfish told me repeatedly. Legolas Thranduilion is not a prince; he is not from Lorien, but from Mirkwood; and he didn’t grow up in Rivendell. Aragorn is hundreds of years younger than Arwen and Legolas. You annoy the heck out of me. Your melodrama fit made me run half a mile longer that I ever want to run for the rest of my life, and you are a blatant Mary Sue. Your sentence is expulsion from the story. What do you have to say for yourself?”
The Sue’s body had started to melt like the Wicked Witch of the West.
“You’re just jealous of me!” the Sue shrieked as her wings dripped into a pool of urple goo.
Saewen wrinkled her nose at the heavy, perfumed stench that drifted from the Sue’s skin. “Why would I envy someone dying a slow, painful death?”
The Sue tried to respond, but her perfect lips had melted off her face. Saewen sat there and watched till the urple and the city of Rivendell vanished into Imladris, a wild valley with steep sides. Everything was back to normal till the next Suethor came along.
Standing at a window in the Last Homely House, Lord Elrond let loose a sigh of relief, and forgot everything that had happened in the last few hours.
What do you think?