The PPC Posting Board - Latest posts

I might have to go back again and check what usages of "PPC HQ" could be replaced with "PPC Headquarters" or "Headquarters" for better flow. I may need to check on whether the HQ abbreviation is used in other works but I don't see why it couldn't be.

The pronunciation I've seen on the Wiki is "[descriptor]-bang-[character]". I suppose we could roll with the punctuation mark being silent, i.e. Gem!Nami being pronounced as "Gem-Nami".

And the badfic the character who'd become Palmeira comes from made it clear that it was canon!Nami who was kidnapped, tortured, and polymorphed into her gem self from the fic. So that means aside from that grossness, she's largely canon-compliant and doesn't belong specifically because she's a being in the style of one continuum "converted" from a canon native to a different one to the point where she's no longer able to fit in either.

The mission Palmeira and Ripper are going to go into is definitely gonna rectify the relative humor drought, assuming we can actually get around to writing it! Although that's a matter that eatpraylove and I will decide together once we get around to actually writing the good stuff.

When the first parts originally went up, someone brought up linking it on TvTropes. I said no, because I don't like the website for a variety of reasons.

While I understand you might not have seen that request when it happened, you still went a step further by linking it on said website after I had been victimized and ran out of this community, which is still a serious point of contention for me.

The current corner of the internet I spend time in has former PPCers of all stripes and people who know about the PPC in it, and there have been moments of 'Oh aren't you y', which happens, especially if you've been using the same handle as long as I have (roughly sixteen years). Having it happen from someone who isn't a current or former PPCer except for reading things only off of TvTropes and is still under the assumption I am still part of your community is not great.

My posting this was not intended to set off drama or anything else. As a content creator I have the right to remove my works and expect requests to have them removed respected. I didn't want to quietly remove them only for them to go right back up.

I don't care if people keep their own private offline copies or share them via email, but I am still removing what I can online to further distance myself, since it's been shown that letting my PPC works just be is not the option I would prefer it to be.

That said, thank you for standing up and admitting you were the person who added it to the TvTropes website. It would have been very easy to not admit to anything at all.

I like that this wedding was so small and quiet and sweet. After everything Ix and Charlotte have been through, they deserve a moment like that. I also like that it leads with Ix seeing herself as beautiful. Very appropriate!

—doctorlit, sorry for short comments but very busy

I like seeing this much calmer version of Velociripper, compared to his original appearances: specifically that while he's no longer being aggressively tough and macho, he's still got elements of predatory dinosaur to him.

I do feel like Citrine accepts her status as a bootleg of a separate canon weirdly quickly, especially when she calls her weapon a copy and refers to the Hinata replacement, a person she has known a long time as "Gem!Hinata." On the other hand, I get that this is an intro piece, and the point wasn't to go through the entire long process of a character coming to terms with their created nature, so . . . yeah.

—doctorlit, catching up

When did this suddenly become focused on greek mythology?

I'm the Otaku Ninja over on Tv Tropes (I have multiple handles across the internet, I guess I just got into the habit.)

I'm surprised July doesn't want it on there, but if I need to, I will remove the offending section. I didn't realize it would be an issue. I apologize for any harm done.

~A very embarrassed Troper

Luckily, Dragonith on deviantArt has you covered.







For reference, Revolver is a fan ability that powers up multi-hit moves (Dual Chop, Double Hit, Spike Cannon, Tail Slap, &c)

July... Are you sure the person who created this link was a member of the PPC? I mean, editing a Tv Tropes page isn't something limited to the members of a community tied to the subject of the pages, Random Fan can happen, and I'd like to know how you have known it was a member of the community who posted this link? I tried to search for the pseudo (The Otaku Ninja) used by the troper, and I didn't see any signs linking this pseudo to someone here on the wiki, the Board or the Discord.

The link mentionned was on the Awesome page of the PPC, and I tried to remove it, explaining it was very much unwanted. We'll see if this holds.

Thanks

It came to my attention a few hours ago that against my desires one of my works was linked on TvTropes, which as this community historically knows makes it impossible to remove anything from once it's been added to their site.

Thanks for enforcing your claim to my existence against my will and continuing to force the connection to this community on me, especially considering this was posted to that site well after you as a group went out of your way to lead a witchhunt on me, dox me, and do your best to destroy my reputation and ruin my life in general.

I'm so displeased about this I don't even have the words to properly put it down via keyboard.

I'm declaring all of my works out of continuity immediately, removing everything I can personally access, and expect all articles and links on the wiki and elsewhere to be appropriately purged.

Charlotte and Ix are so cute together! This was overall a good heartwarming interlude.

Olivine's officiating was also a well-put-together speech. I liked the "never officiated a wedding before" bit.

Now, how're you planning to throw a massive pile of angst on top of this? Because that's presumably what's coming next, no?

- Tomash

"So, how may I be of service?" Chef Matt leaned against the kitchen entrance. He wore a stained apron that seemed to hug his corpulent body a little too much, a bandana on his head, and his glasses had a few specks of flour on them. Strapped to his belt were a ladle, a spatula, and several spice bottles resting comfortably in small holsters.

Agent Jones was bouncing on the balls of her feet, gripping a small stack of photos so hard that there were already visible crumples on them. Her partner, Agent Grey, was standing in the back, fiddling with a pack of cigarettes, completely uninterested in the conversation.

"We need a cake," she stated, almost pressing the photos into the chef's hands. "A big one! Suitable for a wedding!"

Matt cocked an eyebrow as he looked over the photos. All of them showed wedding cakes of various shapes, sizes and colours. Some with overly excessive floral decorations, other with funny crown figurines of the bride and the groom. Some had the names on them, some didn't. Some were singular, some had many layers on them.

"And those are...?" Matt asked.

"References!" VJ beamed. "Lottie's getting married and I want to give her something to make this special day even sweeter!"

"You're just salty ya didn' get an invitation, ain't you, love?" asked William, breaking the seal on the new package. "Told ya, they must've their reasons."

VJ rolled her eyes and turned her head sharply. "I know that, Will! But if I can't be there, at least I can send them something, can't I? All I'm asking is that you magic the cake to them, when it's done!"

William shrugged, and VJ turned back to Matt. "So?"

"I don't need those." The chef dropped the photos into the nearest batch of Slop™. The paper started bubbling and quickly dissolved into a goop that matched the 'dish' in both colour and consistency.

"You want the Perfect Wedding Cake, you'll get the Perfect Wedding Cake. The softest, moistest, most refreshing, yet filling, cake your mind can think of." Matt clapped his hands, opening the kitchen door. Immediately, sounds of cooking, chopping, and gun shots could be heard. A cloud of something glittery escaped through the door.

The Chef turned his head to his customers. "Just give me a little over an hour. And no peeking."

Last time I checked they were friend-locked... I wouldn't mind some wayback links though.

These two have certainly earned this! Now let's raise a glass to the happy couple!

To your union and the hope that you provide, may you always be satisfied!

(Yes, that was a Hamilton reference. Couldn't resist.)

I still love Olivine's speech- it's sweet and to the point.

I'd been thinking of getting over that way this fall- October's a bit later than I'd planned, but it sounds like fun!

Yep, the time's finally come for Charlotte and Ix to tie the knot.

A huge thank you to Delta Juliette and Zingenmir—and their agents—for helping out with this one.

The price and distance aren't too prohibitive, but it would depend on what was going on with Kaitlyn's course. Trouble is, they're spectacularly bad at giving her information in advance... hence possibly maybe. :)

hS

Now I kinda wanna come up with a Pokemon that's an poke-fied WWII battleship...

I especially loved her cover of the first ending theme from Attack on Titan

After several "VR training missions" using The Fanfic Maker (found here: http://fanficmaker.com/), I plan to use "A new world a new life" for my first mission. It features a blatant disregard for grammar, a "prologe," and an overpowered "Master of Death" Harry Potter, who can kill ringwraiths with a wave of his hand.

It can be found here:
https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11321942/1/A-new-world-a-new-life

Here's my randomly selected creative prompt. I rolled "One agent tries to convince another to help with some kind of business venture."

Scrounge

As bases of operations went, Response Center 9-unreadable-smudge wasn’t among the best. To be fair, it had floor space, but most of it was occupied. This occupying force was led by a vanguard of random trash with specialist support provided by the remains of shelves, and an armored division of broken machinery interspersed the ranks, as if to cow would-be cleaners into submission. On the edge of this cave of non-wonders was a small circle where the debris had been cleared, occupied by a human and a lizard-man. After a long silence, the human spoke:
“So.”
“So?” Replied the lizard-man.
“Yeah.”
“Yeah?”
“Are we just gonna keep talking in circles like a couple of parrots, or are we gonna do something?”
“What do you have in mind?”
“Alcohol. It’s the best bartering commodity we can feasibly get, and our key into this place’s informal power structure.”
“Hmm… Have you done this before, or are we going to poison our coworkers?”
“I learned how to do this years ago. We just need water, sugar, and yeast. I once did this with bread mold and ketchup.”
“That must be sheer murder on the humors.”
“Don’t worry, I’m never doing that again.”
“So how do we do this?”
“I think there’s a general store back there, you can probably get stuff there,” said the human. “I’ll try to find this alleged ‘console’ thing.”
“It’s your funeral.”
The lizard-man left, and several hours passed.
“I’m back!”
“Any luck?”
“Yeah, they had a very good deal on baking stuff. Also, I got a bottle of whiskey, ‘cause this seems like it’s gonna take a while.”

Here's my control prompt. I chose "we see both agents recruited." Once again thanks to hpoggie for being my beta.


Two Days

Colonel Caleb Bradbury, veteran of twenty years and uncounted battles, was having a very confusing day. He must have taken a wrong turn on the interstate, because now he was in some sort of idyllic countryside, and his preliminary scouting efforts had revealed a village home to what appeared to be well-dressed pygmies. Given that some of the houses appeared to be mostly underground, he did not discount the idea that he had landed in Matama, New Zealand, while the Fellowship Of the Ring was being filmed. Space-Time-and-The-Other tourism had taken him to stranger places, though the credibility of this as the destination of this particular detour was somewhat harmed by extreme realism of the area and the apparent lack of a camera crew.
But, of course, Bradbury had not risen through the ranks of the Argentine army by losing his head in unfamiliar situations. So, while he was confused, he didn’t show it. Instead, he occupied himself with concealing his vehicle. A television detector van, let alone one fitted with a Hydramatic drive, would cause some awkward questions in what could be a medieval society. This proved futile, as he had only the entrenching tool he had brought with him, and he was trying to hide a van. Instead, he unpacked his gear and made camp for the night. This consisted of hiding inside his overturned van and eating a protein bar. As both a soldier and a time tourist, he had gained the ability to sleep just about anywhere, so he quickly drifted off.
The next morning the Colonel awoke to a someone knocking on the door above him. He looked up to see one of the locals, and he unlocked the door. The humanoid quickly opened the door and climbed from the door frame into the van, using the seats as handholds. Bradbury thought briefly, unsure how to speak the locals, then said: “Hail and hello, kind sirrah. I bideth thee good tidings. Prithee, what bringest thou to mine cave of steel?” The creature pulled a notebook from one of his pockets, and began write. Bradbury could hear him mutter:
“Encountered extra-canonical humanoid… Seems to have caught sunstroke… In possession of high-value asset (currently damaged).”
“I assure you,” said Colonel Bradbury, “I am in full possession of all my faculties, except the faculty of the department of engineering, who could probably help me. But I digress. Perhaps you, in the absence of the faculty, could furnish aid?”
The man put away his notebook and looked at Bradbury as if he had just noticed him.
“Yes… I think we can come to some sort of deal. How about I take this wreck off your hands and get you out of here?”
“I accept this, but before we go, I have some questions. First: Where am I? Second: Why are you here? Third: How do we leave? And finally: Who are you?”
“Hobbiton; I was working on something unrelated; through a portal; and Allen I. Nirvana, department of Intelligence, PPC.”
“Excellent, let’s get out of here.”
“Tell me, are you interested in a job?”

Rasputin Gibbs lay in wait. Flashgun at the ready, he scanned the horizon for the shape of his target. Ever since the accident, this had been his life: the glitter-monsters were an affront to reality, so he killed them. It was simple, so it brought him comfort, and a creature in his situation needed a routine. As the thing came into view, he readied his weapon and prepared to make the kill. Then a teenager walked up to the thing that should not exist, and began to talk to it, getting in way of his shot. Gibbs held back. He didn’t kill people. As he waited, the kid finished talking, the monster said something, and then the kid killed it with a knife. Gibbs went to complement him on his work, but as Gibbs approached, the kid turned and spoke to him: “Rasputin Gibbs, you have been charged with making a nuisance and vigilante Sue killing. You are sentenced to conscription into the PPC. Look this way please.”
“Wait, wh-”