See the Demise of Shay Leigh Turner and the Seven Sues!
We're back! We'll givea full report on Trinidad as soon as we actually get out photographs back. For now, here's out latest PPCing job:
Thanks go to NenyaQuende for Agent Quen, PotCsues for Lady Contrivance, and Megan@Midnight for the use of Jira and Shmuckleigh, all of whom are used with permission. As always, Writer from Rivendell’s betaing is much appreciated.
Note: This chapter does contain some foul language above the PG-13 rating. This is due to a short but lovely author’s rant that “Irish-Pride” decided to put up instead of her story, which she removed once people berated her about her grammar issues. It’s quite amusing, but if you don’t wish to read it, stop here or just skip the words in bold near the end of the chapter. Thank you.
_________________________________________________________________
“Hi, Quen. You wanted to see me?”
Isaiah shuffled in, trying to look nonchalant about the fact that he had been called in to register more personal information with a rather pretty secretary, albeit a Generic Star Trek Alien one.
Quen nodded briskly, keeping up her own facade. She wished she didn’t have to do this, but it was absolutely mandatory for the PPC to have certain things on record. She’d start with the easy information first.
“Have you adopted any mini-Balrogs?”
Isaiah nodded mutely.
Quen typed the information in. “How many, and what misspelling?”
“Just one: Gordor,” Isaiah answered. “I’d guess it’s a misspelling of ‘Gondor’, but there’s also a chance that someone forgot that ‘Mordor’ began with an ‘m’.”
“Ah. Do you have any allergies to Bleeprin, Bleepka, or Anti-Lustin?”
“Not that I know of, although I’m not old enough for Bleepka.”
Quen nodded. The records stated that Isaiah was going to turn 18 in July.
She hesitated before throwing out the next question, then steeled herself and asked matter-of-factly, “Lust objects?”
Isaiah started. “Pardon me?” he asked in alarm.
Quen flushed a bluish green. “Your lust objects. The fictional characters that you love and admi--”
“I know that,” Isaiah interrupted. “But why do you--why does the PPC need to know that?”
“Well, quite simply, the PPC doesn’t want its agents fangirling--or, in your case, fanboying--their L.O.s,” Quen answered, her expression sympathetic. “We can open portals to fictional universes and be close to our lust objects, not to mention our neuralisers that blot out any memory of uncanonical events. It would be all too easy for a rogue agent to take advantage of that. That’s why the penalty for harassing or fangirling L.O.s is very harsh indeed.” Quen lowered her voice. “Femmeslash no-drool videos featuring Maeluiwen. Agent Nenya had to go through that ordeal when she drooled over Aragorn; I talked to her about it.” Quen shuddered. “I won’t forget that conversation in a hurry, Bleeprin or no Bleeprin.”
“Oh, well, that does make sense.” Isaiah suddenly found his shoes very interesting. “Well…couldn’t you use a nicer phrase, at least?” he asked, pained.
Quen laughed. “It’s not meant literally in all cases, you know. The term was coined because so many Suvians and Suethors only pay attention to physical attributes.”
“It’s not very dignified.” Isaiah shifted uncomfortably. “Particularly in the case of high-born ladies.”
“Such as?” Quen tried not to appear interested while she asked the question.
Isaiah bit his lip. He wished that there were more male agents in PPC Headquarters. To recite his rather long list of infatuations in front of anyone was bad enough, but did it have to be in front of Quen? He’d even rather do it in front of Mara; all she would do would be to make note of them composedly.
“In Lord of the Rings fandom, Lady Éowyn,” Isaiah began dejectedly. “In Pirates of the Caribbean, Elizabeth Swann. Star Trek, Seven of Nine and Ro Laren. Forgotten Realms, Cattie-brie. Tortall, Buri. Harry Potter, Nymphadora Tonks…” the list continued, but after Isaiah got to Elizabeth Bennet from Pride and Prejudice, Quen motioned for him to stop and opened up a drawer of photos.
They were obviously taken from the various official fanfiction universities--Lady Éowyn was wearing black leather and Nymphadora Tonks had a few residual Sue-splotches from a recent Vambiolaria outbreak. As Quen held up each one in front of his face, she jotted down his reactions. Mostly, his face went blank as he stared ahead stoically. Only twice did he flush.
Does not drool, faint, or kiss L.O. pictures, the secretary noted, more from gentlemanly restraint rather than lack of attraction, since his pupils dilate.
Quen nodded as she slipped the images back inside the filing cabinet. “Thank you, Agent. That’s all the interrogation for the moment.” She smiled. “One last thing.”
Isaiah braced himself.
“I need an updated agent photo.”
Isaiah sighed in relief and obediently stood with his back to a white projector screen.
Quen focused the computer lens and zoomed in on his face, adjusting the angle carefully so that she didn’t accidentally lop off any of his strawberry blond hair. Once he was in focus, she was about to press the button when she noticed a few light brown spots on his nose and cheeks.
He has freckles, she realized as she fussed with the camera angle. How neat! You can’t see them very well unless you get close to him, but they’re there.
FLASH!
“All set.” She waved him cheerily out of the office.
___________________________________________________
“Registration complete, then?” Mara asked briskly as Isaiah entered the room, looking a bit flushed.
The new agent narrowed his eyes. “Did you know that she was going to do that? Ask me about my lu--about my fictional obsessions?”
“I hadn’t an inkling,” Mara answered airily. She gave him an inquiring look. “What were they, anyway?”
Isaiah huffed, “Just so you won’t pester me later--” and he went through the whole list again.
“A woman in every port, eh?” Mara chuckled.
“Oh, yeah?” Isaiah shot back. “Well, what about you?”
Mara looked slightly smug. “I have none.”
“None?”
“That’s right. None. In any fandom.”
Isaiah’s eyes grew round. He blinked several times.
“You’re a freak, you know, Mara. Not even Captain Jack?”
“No,” Mara admitted. “He’s a splendid character, but he’s not for me. It’s a good thing, too. He features so prominently in all the Suefics--”
BEEEEEEP!
“I think you said a naughty word, Mara,” Isaiah joked. Mara started across the room, but Isaiah was closer. He leaned in towards the console and stared, perplexed at what was written there. “Well, he features so prominently in almost all the Suefics, at any rate. This seems to be focused on the Turner family. I think.”
Mara stared at him warily. “You think?”
“Well, not only are there several characters that don’t belong there and who are royally screwing up the story, but at least one canonical seems to be…er, disposed of.”
Mara squared her shoulders as she saddled her backpack. “Killed off.”
“You could say that. I’d really rather not elaborate, not while there are breakable objects in the room.”
Ignoring that, the female agent continued, “What’s the status of the story as far as technical errors are concerned?”
”Well, let’s just say there are many errors of omission--you know, periods. Correct usage. Logic.”
“How many uncanonicals?”
“Let me try and phrase this carefully…do you remember the five Sue fic that had Rosie up all night?”
“Yes, you mentioned i--oh, no, Isaiah, don’t tell me--augh. FIVE?”
“Well, at least four.”
Mara clapped her hand to her forehead. “Why meeeee?”
"Come, now. Agent Mara wouldn’t be melodramatic, would she?” Isaiah teased.
Mara scuffed her left boot on the floor. “She would, but she shouldn’t be. Sorry. Okay. I’m calm now. Angry, but calm, and very ready to kill."
Isaiah took his customary deep breath. “Chapter One…here we go!”
____________________________________________________________
Comments and criticism appreciated!
Thanks go to NenyaQuende for Agent Quen, PotCsues for Lady Contrivance, and Megan@Midnight for the use of Jira and Shmuckleigh, all of whom are used with permission. As always, Writer from Rivendell’s betaing is much appreciated.
Note: This chapter does contain some foul language above the PG-13 rating. This is due to a short but lovely author’s rant that “Irish-Pride” decided to put up instead of her story, which she removed once people berated her about her grammar issues. It’s quite amusing, but if you don’t wish to read it, stop here or just skip the words in bold near the end of the chapter. Thank you.
_________________________________________________________________
“Hi, Quen. You wanted to see me?”
Isaiah shuffled in, trying to look nonchalant about the fact that he had been called in to register more personal information with a rather pretty secretary, albeit a Generic Star Trek Alien one.
Quen nodded briskly, keeping up her own facade. She wished she didn’t have to do this, but it was absolutely mandatory for the PPC to have certain things on record. She’d start with the easy information first.
“Have you adopted any mini-Balrogs?”
Isaiah nodded mutely.
Quen typed the information in. “How many, and what misspelling?”
“Just one: Gordor,” Isaiah answered. “I’d guess it’s a misspelling of ‘Gondor’, but there’s also a chance that someone forgot that ‘Mordor’ began with an ‘m’.”
“Ah. Do you have any allergies to Bleeprin, Bleepka, or Anti-Lustin?”
“Not that I know of, although I’m not old enough for Bleepka.”
Quen nodded. The records stated that Isaiah was going to turn 18 in July.
She hesitated before throwing out the next question, then steeled herself and asked matter-of-factly, “Lust objects?”
Isaiah started. “Pardon me?” he asked in alarm.
Quen flushed a bluish green. “Your lust objects. The fictional characters that you love and admi--”
“I know that,” Isaiah interrupted. “But why do you--why does the PPC need to know that?”
“Well, quite simply, the PPC doesn’t want its agents fangirling--or, in your case, fanboying--their L.O.s,” Quen answered, her expression sympathetic. “We can open portals to fictional universes and be close to our lust objects, not to mention our neuralisers that blot out any memory of uncanonical events. It would be all too easy for a rogue agent to take advantage of that. That’s why the penalty for harassing or fangirling L.O.s is very harsh indeed.” Quen lowered her voice. “Femmeslash no-drool videos featuring Maeluiwen. Agent Nenya had to go through that ordeal when she drooled over Aragorn; I talked to her about it.” Quen shuddered. “I won’t forget that conversation in a hurry, Bleeprin or no Bleeprin.”
“Oh, well, that does make sense.” Isaiah suddenly found his shoes very interesting. “Well…couldn’t you use a nicer phrase, at least?” he asked, pained.
Quen laughed. “It’s not meant literally in all cases, you know. The term was coined because so many Suvians and Suethors only pay attention to physical attributes.”
“It’s not very dignified.” Isaiah shifted uncomfortably. “Particularly in the case of high-born ladies.”
“Such as?” Quen tried not to appear interested while she asked the question.
Isaiah bit his lip. He wished that there were more male agents in PPC Headquarters. To recite his rather long list of infatuations in front of anyone was bad enough, but did it have to be in front of Quen? He’d even rather do it in front of Mara; all she would do would be to make note of them composedly.
“In Lord of the Rings fandom, Lady Éowyn,” Isaiah began dejectedly. “In Pirates of the Caribbean, Elizabeth Swann. Star Trek, Seven of Nine and Ro Laren. Forgotten Realms, Cattie-brie. Tortall, Buri. Harry Potter, Nymphadora Tonks…” the list continued, but after Isaiah got to Elizabeth Bennet from Pride and Prejudice, Quen motioned for him to stop and opened up a drawer of photos.
They were obviously taken from the various official fanfiction universities--Lady Éowyn was wearing black leather and Nymphadora Tonks had a few residual Sue-splotches from a recent Vambiolaria outbreak. As Quen held up each one in front of his face, she jotted down his reactions. Mostly, his face went blank as he stared ahead stoically. Only twice did he flush.
Does not drool, faint, or kiss L.O. pictures, the secretary noted, more from gentlemanly restraint rather than lack of attraction, since his pupils dilate.
Quen nodded as she slipped the images back inside the filing cabinet. “Thank you, Agent. That’s all the interrogation for the moment.” She smiled. “One last thing.”
Isaiah braced himself.
“I need an updated agent photo.”
Isaiah sighed in relief and obediently stood with his back to a white projector screen.
Quen focused the computer lens and zoomed in on his face, adjusting the angle carefully so that she didn’t accidentally lop off any of his strawberry blond hair. Once he was in focus, she was about to press the button when she noticed a few light brown spots on his nose and cheeks.
He has freckles, she realized as she fussed with the camera angle. How neat! You can’t see them very well unless you get close to him, but they’re there.
FLASH!
“All set.” She waved him cheerily out of the office.
___________________________________________________
“Registration complete, then?” Mara asked briskly as Isaiah entered the room, looking a bit flushed.
The new agent narrowed his eyes. “Did you know that she was going to do that? Ask me about my lu--about my fictional obsessions?”
“I hadn’t an inkling,” Mara answered airily. She gave him an inquiring look. “What were they, anyway?”
Isaiah huffed, “Just so you won’t pester me later--” and he went through the whole list again.
“A woman in every port, eh?” Mara chuckled.
“Oh, yeah?” Isaiah shot back. “Well, what about you?”
Mara looked slightly smug. “I have none.”
“None?”
“That’s right. None. In any fandom.”
Isaiah’s eyes grew round. He blinked several times.
“You’re a freak, you know, Mara. Not even Captain Jack?”
“No,” Mara admitted. “He’s a splendid character, but he’s not for me. It’s a good thing, too. He features so prominently in all the Suefics--”
BEEEEEEP!
“I think you said a naughty word, Mara,” Isaiah joked. Mara started across the room, but Isaiah was closer. He leaned in towards the console and stared, perplexed at what was written there. “Well, he features so prominently in almost all the Suefics, at any rate. This seems to be focused on the Turner family. I think.”
Mara stared at him warily. “You think?”
“Well, not only are there several characters that don’t belong there and who are royally screwing up the story, but at least one canonical seems to be…er, disposed of.”
Mara squared her shoulders as she saddled her backpack. “Killed off.”
“You could say that. I’d really rather not elaborate, not while there are breakable objects in the room.”
Ignoring that, the female agent continued, “What’s the status of the story as far as technical errors are concerned?”
”Well, let’s just say there are many errors of omission--you know, periods. Correct usage. Logic.”
“How many uncanonicals?”
“Let me try and phrase this carefully…do you remember the five Sue fic that had Rosie up all night?”
“Yes, you mentioned i--oh, no, Isaiah, don’t tell me--augh. FIVE?”
“Well, at least four.”
Mara clapped her hand to her forehead. “Why meeeee?”
"Come, now. Agent Mara wouldn’t be melodramatic, would she?” Isaiah teased.
Mara scuffed her left boot on the floor. “She would, but she shouldn’t be. Sorry. Okay. I’m calm now. Angry, but calm, and very ready to kill."
Isaiah took his customary deep breath. “Chapter One…here we go!”
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Comments and criticism appreciated!