The PPC Posting Board - Latest posts

There's a really cool thing that's been going on the last few months, which is that every two weeks on a Thursday, Novastorme posts a writing prompt, and whoever feels like it responds with a short scene. (I've been hitting about 1.5-2 pages, nothing huge; nothing I can't bang out in a couple of hours, and I'm slow.) It doesn't have to be about the PPC (Nova has made a point of making the prompts open enough for any setting), it's pretty informal, and it's a great way to develop characters and get some feedback. I'd recommend jumping in there.

It is polite to comment on other people's prompt pieces, especially if they comment on yours, but you shouldn't have to read any missions or backstories to be able to follow little one-shot character vignettes. Not saying it wouldn't help, of course, but it shouldn't be necessary. And hey, maybe reading some very short works will introduce you to some characters you like enough to follow in their spin-off, and you can get to know the PPC better that way. Each spin-off is pretty self-contained, so there's really no wrong place to start. There's a saying in comics: "Every issue is someone's first." I figure that can go for PPC stories, too.

If even that seems like too much, I don't know what else to tell you. I don't know what in your life is holding you back, but like anything else, you're only going to get out of the PPC community what you're willing and able to put into it. At some point, you gotta make an effort.

~Neshomeh

Ix knocked on the door of the bathroom before fiddling with her tie. "Our reservation's at seven, and we still have to make it down to New Cal."

"Gimme one more minute," Charlotte called.

Ix sighed and leaned against the wall, resisting the urge to run her fingers through her gelled hair. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and turned on the selfie camera, examining her face for what felt like the hundredth time that hour. Charlotte had done some phenomenal work with the concealer, and though her scars were still obviously visible, they weren't as angry and red and attention-drawing as normal. She had to resist the urge to touch her face, too.

Everything about her looked... different. Good different. She looked handsome. Her cheekbones were sharp, her eyebrows angular, and when she smiled, she could almost ignore the way her scars pulled down the corner of her mouth.

It was a strange feeling, but one she wouldn't mind getting to experience more often.

The door to the bathroom opened and Ix hastily stowed her phone in her suit's pocket, eyes going wide when she got a look at Charlotte. "Whoa."

Charlotte slowly turned around so Ix could properly see the backless evening gown, its purple silk draped elegantly over her frame. "You like?" She blinked slowly, pale lavender eye shadow visible behind her glasses.

"Very much," Ix said, swallowing. "Wow. Lottie, you look beautiful."

Charlotte stepped up to her, leaning on tiptoes to kiss Ix. "And you look absolutely dashing in that suit," she said, wrapping her arms around Ix's waist. "You should wear it more often. Go for that James Bond look."

Ix snorted. "If anything, I'm channeling Blofeld," she said.

"A really hot Blofeld, then," Charlotte said, kissing her again. "Or Alec Trevelyan. But we should get going; I already wasted enough time doing my makeup."

Ix offered her an arm and Charlotte looped hers through. "My lady," she said, and they headed to the door."

It's not like that. It's more like... you know, in a badfic? Where something is two colors at once?

I exist in a superposition of pale and bright red.

The verbosity of the whole thing is, indeed, very Catch-22 and I could imagine an entire segment of that book being dedicated to sandwiches and people who really really want them.
And then the next chapter is about how the sandwich-maker eventually was horrifically bombed to pieces and how, through a bureaucratic mishap, is never reported dead to his family or some such.

Anyhow, it's a very accurate representation of the theoretical alternate reality in which Larfen is a man who likes sandwiches. Also, in which he is tall.

I do not mind being paired with dudes.

Or genderbent.

Or if Skar finally gets my boots off. Seriously my clodhoppers are gigantic.

It's all in good fun, right?

At least one person has asked which Primarch I was with already. The answer is, if you want to know, you're more then welcome to write that fic yourself. I've suggested VI and XVth already, but I've also kept the wording open for any of the Primarchs.

If you want a list of primarchs, or to find out which number corresponds to what Primarch, you can find that information on your Friendly Neighborhood 40k Wiki of choice.

Honestly, this is the best place I have in terms of an active writing community. Others I've been to are too toxic, inactive, or just plain uninteresting to follow. I even think there was a group that only had one admin and a bunch of sock puppet accounts. I know the basic premise of the PPC, and I would love to follow it. But I can't do it right now. Like I said before, I'm having trouble just catching up on them, let alone dig through the wikia in search of plot points and references.

I feel like an attention whore right now. I really don't want to come across like that.

And as long as you didn't change any dialogue, it should - the challenge was, after all, to quotemine like crazy.

Calliope and Granz had long shared an RC, for reasons that were frankly blatantly obvious to anyone who had known then for any length of time. They were almost inseparable, and it had sometimes been theorized that they were, in fact, both one person - although if that was true, someone would probably have to start investigating the less likely link between Tomash and Thoth, Just In Case.

On this particular afternoon, Cal was leaning her injured arm against the console (normally, it would be in her brace, but unfortunately, said brace was being replaced after a remarkably unfortunate series of events involving Sue-blood, a carton of bananas, half a pack of ramen, a tire iron, some peanut butter, and one of Lore’s knives), waiting for Mikel to respond to a message she’d sent him. Granz was currently lying on his bed, fiddling with his phone, comfortably using Calliope’s fursuit as a pillow. Really, there should have been two consoles so Granz could have one to use, but DoSAT hadn’t gotten back to them, so they took turns on the one, and even that had a tendency to break down.

Which was why Calliope probably shouldn't have been quite so surprised when a spark jumped from the console to her wrist with a rather loud *BZZT* noise. The subsequent falling over, however, was an entirely appropriate reaction.

Granz jumped off the bed with exceptional speed, dashing the short distance almost instantly, speaking quite rapidly. “Are you hurt, did something happen, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” said Cal. She frowned, flexing her injured wrist. Which appeared to… not be, anymore. And her voice sounded... different.

“...um,” said Granz, having already realized what had happened. He turned a bright red.

“Darling...” The young man on the floor looked at Granz quizzically. He ran his fingers through his hair, frowning as it only went as far as his shoulders. Then, understanding dawned. “Ah,” she - or rather, he - said. “We should…”

“Yeah,” said Granz. He knew what Cal was talking about. He grabbed his phone and sent a call for repairs to DoSAT. He looked down at Cal. “You know… you’re beautiful.”

Cal looked down at himself. “I am aware of this… darling.” That last word, while not an uncommon phrase for Cal, had a different intonation than usual. It was more… excited.

Granz bent down over Cal. He was flushed, and he also showed some… other signs of excitement. “How far do you want this to go?” he murmured huskily, tracing a line along Cal’s chest.

Calliope gave the man atop him his best seductive look - well, he tried to: He really wasn’t used to this body. Nonetheless, Granz found the result plenty appealing. “However far we want,” Cal said, his voice dropping to a husky whisper similar to Granz’s. He moved his hands up, along Granz’s body, feeling the skin and the bones, the muscle and tissue, the softness and hardnesses, and finally coming to rest, gently caressing the nipples upon Granz’s chest, eliciting a gasp from the man. Calliope leaned forward for a kiss and Granz gladly reciprocated, each tasting the other’s mouth as their tongues dueled passionately. They did, after all, have plenty of time. DoSAT took ages to respond and a broken console wasn’t high on their priority list.

Unfortunately, they hadn’t taken the Ironic Overpower into account.

“DoSAT!” a voice squawked. “I have a report of a broken… ahhh…” The man who had just walked into the RC was of above average height, rather stocky - to put it charitably - and astonishingly pale. Mostly noticeably, he had head of an Ibis. This was rather fortunate for him: Ibises weren’t capable of becoming flushed. Not visibly, anyways.

Calliope and Granz looked up. One of them was clearly more embarrassed than the other. “...Thoth?” said Calliope slowly, “Why are you…?”

Thoth - for it was Thoth - waved his hand. “Ypsi. Accident. I don’t want to talk about it. Anyways, should I just… leave you to it?”

Calliope grinned mischievously. “...or…” he said, “we could make a little sandwich.” Granz seemed to squirm a bit.

Thoth, after taking a moment to thank every known deity for the wonders of loose-fitting pants, gave the both of them his best attempt at a level stare. Which wasn’t very good. “You’re a very twisted person, Cal.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Cal responded in a singsong voice.

Thoth sighed. “In any case, let me know when you want me to fix things.” He turned to go.

“Are you sure?” Cal asked.

“Why would I enjoy that?”

Cal gave him a level stare.

“B- T-THAT WAS DIFFERENT! AND ALSO A ONE TIME THING!” Thoth shouted - or rather tried to shout. It came out as more of a screech though the beak. The door closed behind him.

Cal and Granz began laughing as the door shut. “You’re so evil!” Granz said.

Cal smiled at him. “I’m an angel, I swear! The horns are only there to keep the halo straight.”

Granz leaned closer, pulling Calliope back into the kiss. Somewhere in HQ, Mikel finally tagged in, responding to Cal. But Cal was entirely too busy to care. And Thoth had just discovered that his RC was presently neighbors with the one Cal and Granz shared.

He had a creeping suspicion he wouldn’t be getting much sleep that night, ibis head or no…

--

This was actually written for a challenge from Calliope. Ages ago. It's been slightly cleaned up, but it still meets the terms of that challenge. I think. Anyways, it was always intended to be published as part of the Shipfest. So here it is! My first ship of two actual boarders.

Did I mix things up somehow?

- Tomash

I'm not... entirely sure what I just read, but it was sweet and funny. Nicely done!

...but I think this might, in some way, be accurate to me. Because while I may not flirt too much with people, or at least I don't think I do, I definitely tease my friends. And I would call you guys my friends.

On the other hand, you put me in a swimsuit in front of people and not in the water. How am I not running away screaming for my clothes back?

Regardless, it's a beautiful story. And I love it. So much.

That is glorious. And amazing. And really funny.

~Thoth, who is both pale, and EXTREMELY red. At the same time. Somehow.

But the rules say I can't do that anymore. ^_~

But it's sooooo tempting.

hS

"No, a bit closer… closer than that… come on, now, Badger, you're not even trying."

Badger421 tried yet again to straighten his glasses. "This really isn't necessary, you know-"

"Of course it is!" Neshomeh stamped one foot, scowling at the quintet. "Just look at yourselves! If you don't get some sunlight on those pale bodies of yours you're all going to die of Vitamin D deficiency!"

The Good Mod Addict mirrored the scowl. "I'm not pale," he said firmly. "I don't need to be here."

"Er…" Maxewell looked him up and down. "You kind of are, though."

The Good Mod Addict folded his arms across his chest, accidentally elbowing Calliope in the ribs. "You wouldn't say that if I was allowed to wear something other than a swimsuit."

"I'm not complaining," Calliope murmured, tugging on the strap of her own costume. "I mean," she went on, "I'm complaining about my own costume - it's cold! - but not about you lot wearing-"

"Are we really doing this?" Badger demanded. "We've been forced-"

"Speak for yourself," Maxewell chimed in.

Badger rolled his eyes. "Mostly forced to stand half-naked under a sunlamp; are we really going to start flirting with each other?"

"Are you asking for votes?" Calliope asked, grinning. "Because I am all for that."

"Um." Twistey held up a hand, accidentally knocked the sun-lamp, and winced. "Miss Neshomeh?"

Neshomeh, who had been muttering to herself while she adjusted the settings on the sunlamp, looked up with a warm smile. "It's just Neshomeh, sweetie."

"Sorry. Um. Sorry." Twistey chewed on her lip. "Sorry."

Neshomeh chuckled. "It's fine, sweetie. What's up?"

"I'm just wondering…" Twistey worked an arm out between the Good Mod Addict and Calliope and pointed across the room. "Who's that?"

Neshomeh glanced over at the hooded figure lurking in the shadows. "That's beyond our borders," she said in an ominous tone. "You must never go there, Twistey."

"Um." Twistey blinked repeatedly. "What?"

Maxewell reached across and ruffled her hair. "She's quoting The Lion King at you," they murmured. "Don't let it fluster you."

"Oh! Um… right." Twistey licked her lip nervously. "But seriously, who is it?"

"Oh, it's just hS, sweetie," Neshomeh said. "He likes to brood, you know? But he really should spend some time under the sunlamp too…!"

The last sentence was said in a raised voice, but there was no response from the shaded figure. Neshomeh rolled her eyes and turned back to the group. "Right! Let's try this one more time. Calliope, if you could just step in front of Maxewell, and Badger, if you could squeeze in a bit closer to Twistey…"

~

Well, she did say she was gonna.

hS is also pale, but wisely didn't say as much

There was knock at the door of ‘Plith’s RC. He went to open it.

Outside stood a man. A very large man. Inhumanly large. With a handsome face and long, flowing blond hair. He wore a dark green robe wrapped loosely around him, exposing the strength of his muscular chest. “Greetings.”

‘Plith gaped at the man. “But you’re…”

“Lion El’Jonson, Primarch of the Dark Angels, yes. I and my brothers heard tell of this ‘Shipfest’, and decided to participate.” The Lion ducked into the small RC, ignoring the awed noises ‘Plith was making. “You are my choice for tonight.”

‘Plith’s eyes widened. “Me? B-b-but… I’m not… interested in… I’m… you… I can’t…”

Lion laughed, “Oh?” He lifted ‘Plith, pressing the smaller man tight against him. “But do you not feel the desire within you? To feel my touch? To experience my body pressing against yours? To feel the touch of my lips? If so, let such desire be released unto me.”

‘Plith thought for a moment. Yes, this wasn’t his thing, but… well… it was a primarch. It was different. And the Lion was his favorite… “Yes,” he said, quietly. “I want… this.” He pulled himself closer to meet the Primarch’s lips with his own, and the two came together in a passionate kiss.

~~

Hours later, ‘Plith found himself a the bar, staring blankly into the distance with a glass of Bleepka, trying desperately not to think about what had happened. He turned to the side, still staring vacantly, when he realized that Thoth was sitting next to him, with a thousand-yard stare to match his own.

“Uh… hey,” said ‘Plith, dully. “How are you.”

“Primarch,” said Thoth, his tone matching. “You?”

“Same. So… VI or XVth? I can’t imagine it was any of the others...”

“I… don’t want to discuss it. At all.”

The two sat in silence for a moment.

“Thoth?”

“Yeah?”

“I think you know what I’m going to say…”

“Can I say it with you?”

“Sure.”

The two of them spoke in quiet, exhausted unison. “Let us never speak of this again.”

...Featuring the entire PPC as LARPers.

I'll start working on it after another fic that I'm working on.

*clears throat*

Would now be a bad time to declare Brigitte is my new main?

I definitely look better without elf ears.

Also lulz.

-Kaitlyn, now wondering about hs's "LARPing group"

...I am also willing to be plied with coffee. Or pretty much anything caffeinated to be honest, it's fueling me through my degree.

-Kaitlyn: this post brought to you by the letter caffeine